As a child, I wanted to be an astronaut. There is nothing too unusual about this! The heavens are a huge mystery which we won’t learn much more about in my lifetime. Therefore, every valentines day, I would send valentines cards to all the women that had been in space hoping to find someone I could share my love with.

Luckily, the local newspapers actually show you a list. So many women every week of varying ages, that I spent a fortune on cards once a year hoping this was the way to find the woman of my dreams. So with eager, I would turn to page 38 and look at my favourite weekly list.

Announcments: Obituaries.

See, I always thought it was announcements of people who had just been to space. I thought it meant “ORbituaries” and was a spelling mistake or something. I blame the government for my schooling errors and the lady at the post office for never actually telling me what I was doing wrong.

So every year I would get letters back saying how rude I am or how I have no shame from people other to who I sent the card to. Others just wouldnt reply back at all. I spent years not knowing how to speak to women due to my abject failure with the cards and thinking I was a social outcast destined to spend my life alone.

My advice to you. If you are planning on a special gift for a “valentine” this year, do yourself a favour:

Check their pulse first. There are 2 heavens. You don’t want to send a card to the wrong one.

If you liked this, you will probably enjoy

If you liked this, you will probably enjoy

I know that this blog isnt about posting videos and is supposed to be about stuff I see etc…but when a nugget like this comes along, it is rude to not share! Perhaps I should have posted it under my shhhh…I See Stupid People post.

Yeah I know you shouldn’t laugh at other peoples misfortune, but what was the guy expecting?

“Lets do a shot under this tree full of birds. Whats the worst that can happen?”

***Super Update***

It seems that this is actually a hoax. Well, not a hoax, but if you search hard enough, you can find a “making of” video. OK, fine. Here is the link. Let me know if you need me to wipe your behind too.

http://www.superdeluxe.com/sd/contentDetail.do?id=D81F2344BF5AC7BB24155D331F029BE88737D5316E5760DD

According to a recent report I made up in my head, for every day that passes, I am one day closer to being removed from this mortal coil we call life. According to the same report it is the same for everybody; including you. Scary isn’t it!

Although, for some of us it comes sooner then others. It has been like this since day 1. We have absolutely no control over it.

Or DO we?

For instance, I will give you a few observations showing how easily this ratio can be changed for the better. It involves getting rid of stupid people. I don’t mean kill them, but at least put them on an island somewhere and let them deal with themselves and leave us “normal” people alone.

The BBC News scroller tells me “Man who escaped from prison van says it was a big mistake”. Gee. You really think so genius? Because generally escaping is seen as a good thing and leads to a reduction in your sentence should they catch you.

I saw a very bad excuse for a human being in a car with wings (although it may have been an incredibly stupid looking spoiler which was bigger then the car) driving like a complete idiot. On pulling out on someone who was doing 50mph (it was a 60 limit) and almost writing them off, leading to the universal sign language of “any particular reason you did that old chap?” to engage between them before he speeds off. Not even a mile later, someone pulls out and cuts him up. He is livid. Tailing right behind the car that cut him up, he is flashing and swearing at the guy. It seems irony is lost on stupid people.

The following day I observed a slim petite woman “jogging”. Well, when I say jogging, I walked past her. We were going in the same direction. But hey, why run fast when it means you will sweat and ruin the £1500 worth of clothes you bought for the “workout”. She was more concerned with vanity then anything else (judging by the fact she had done her makeup and hair). I want to say she jogged, but the word gives off an illusion of movement, which is something she wasn’t doing. So she “existed” past some workmen.

One guy practically fell off of his ladder gawping so hard. It was very much a scene from the exorcist. His head turned right round. He was on a ladder holding some bricks. Had he fallen, the guy holding the ladder would have been toast. Not sure who to send to the island on this one. Miss Vanity because geeeeezzz…or the Builder dude ready to top his workmate with a ton of bricks.

But what if we are not subjected to trying to survive another day without some jackass in a car who shouldn’t have a licence driving me off of the road, or someone not dropping bricks on my head.

Well, you are left with the likes of those who hate their job and moan about it all day and yet never leave. Or those that park in 2 spaces because either they don’t know how to park or think their car is too important to be in just 1 space. Or the parents who let their kids run riot not thinking other people in the restaurant just might not like your kid eating off of their plate and crawling under your table.

Ah screw it. We are gonna need a bigger island.

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I get a lot of spare time on my hands. Therefore, on top of the awesome story that is my life, sometimes I have to lower myself to menial chores.

Today’s menial chore was to look at Google Trends. See who people are searching for most that day. Here are the top 5:

1. mike birbiglia
2. christopher allport
3. sean young
4. sag awards
5. emily rose

Who? What? Where?

SAG Awards??? And the award for the woman with nipples by her knees is…*drum roll*

I think I might just walk outside, arch my back and wave a stick at some teenagers while telling them that when I was a boy there was more respect and then walk back in to the house muttering about something completely random.

When did I lose touch with what is “popular” in the world? I shall ask my wife later. I know the answer though. She will look at me with total disdain and say “When you got a life hunny”. I might have to become a closet showbiz reader.

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During the makings of a very impressive dinner last night, I got the leg of lamb out of the fridge, removed it from the packaging and turned the oven on. Hmmm…what to put it on. Let me check the packaging.

Ohhh…ummm…hmmmm…that’s pretty much ruined dinner for me. How the hell do I get my oven to heat up to 1900 degrees celcius? I just cant do it. 230 maybe, but 1900?

I felt bad about making my guests have to eat at a crematorium, but I cant really make the meal without the main attraction can I?

So off we strolled. Typical. Someone else is cooking their lamb today. Big box…must be feeding a lot of people! Would they let me put it in to the oven with their’s? Nope. How out of order is that!

In the end, I just put it in the oven at home until it was ready. What a wasted night.

***Update*** I decided to send the label to Sainsburys and ask them what I can use to cook it. If they respond, I will let you know what they say.

***Sexy update*** Sainsbury’s it seems just cant be bothered to reply to customer comments and questions. Tesco, it seems could be the way forward in the food market stakes!

“It is not very good is it. Now we are stranded here and I don’t know when we will take off. What are we supposed to do?”

There is a conspiracy going on in the food world. I don’t know what it is but I think it needs investigating. It might be subliminal messaging in the ads, or they are putting out shows to the susceptical people in the world and I am one of the weak minded fools being dragged in. But there are a whole load of shows telling me why I shouldn’t eat certain foods, and all it does is make me want it more.

I don’t watch much TV. I am lucky enough to be married to someone where we always have something to talk about, or just put music on and talk BS until it is time to hit the sack. But during my bi-fortnightly wander through the TV channels, I stumbled across an annoying idiot whinging about the next thing on his agenda of how to wind the UK public up. I don’t want to say his name as I don’t actually like him so don’t want to advertise him. (Hint: If you are a Brit or watch Brit TV…he says “Pukka” too much.)

He is a chef that has told us how adding things to food makes it taste so much better, and now he is complaining about the food available because things are added to it. He is also giving mass grief about a supermarket chain that pay him a lot of money each year to advertise their goods. Talk about biting the hand you hump.

The whole hot topic is salt. Frankly, I like salt. It is the perfect flavour enhancer and makes even my cooking taste less like boiled rabid rat and more like what I am making. Which is often sauteed rabid rat. (it has to be rabid as the foaming at the mouth adds to presentation)

All I have wanted since watching the 90 or so seconds of that show is something salty as all hell. I was tempted to pour salt on to my salty snacks as I just felt I was missing out because they were reduced salt snacks. But you shouldn’t have too much salt as it makes you unattractive to the opposite sex as you grow horns, or so the medical people tell us.

I believe in free will. I believe in the fact that I should be able to decide what I feel I want in life. Eating a very salty snack is not, the last time I looked, illegal.

So why cant I have my salty snack with extra added salt rather then “less then 0.00000000064% less salt compared to 1854!” as the wrapper tells me in a way I am supposed to find exciting. All it did was ruin the flavour for me as I didnt feel the need to drink a gallon of water after it and I missed out on the cool heart palpitations.

Then there is the film “Super Size Me”. I hate McDonald’s and almost completely refuse to eat there. The exception is the odd chicken burger. But the chicken burger is a last resort and comes just before the falafel van on the list I label “Avoid at all costs. Danger lives here”.

What the bloody hell is a falafel anyway? It sounds like it is made from the left overs of child birth. “Oh hunny…it’s a little girl! Oh, and here comes the falafel! *Splat* mmmmm salty!”

But since watching Super Size Me, my insides are practically pleading for a Big Mac. How is this happening? I generally relate eating McDonalds to the less then exciting turbo bowel movement 20 minutes after ingesting the advanced polymer they use for an egg in the breakfasts or the poor excuse for meat they use for the burgers.

If you know why I am suddenly getting these feelings, please send me a note attached to a salty snack or a voucher for a fast food restaurant. If you don’t know why, just send the snacks and vouchers!

Sorry, I couldnt resist the photo. Salt ‘n Pepper. Pure 80’s cheese!