I need to whinge. Why? Because it makes me feel special, wanted and gives me a fuzzy sensation that I otherwise only get from…well, you have a think about it and put your ideas on the comments section below. The winner gets the honour of being right.

So. My whinge.

Warplanes bomb Kurdish rebels…British diplomat held hostage by Russia…Britney spears loses rights to see her children…anti-whaling activists arrested by Chinese

Woah there horsey…Hang on a minute. Go back a bit…Britney loses rights to see children?

In between serious journalistic important news? This is just not important to me, you and the soft toy on the other side of the room…is it?!

I once lost my virginity, and I never got it back. Was that reported on the TV news or national papers? It damn well should have been. It was a very important moment in my life. With the appropriate news coverage, life could have been so different for me.

So why her and not me?

I do understand that people have an interest in lower life forms begging to be loved. They even get there own special group to be in. It is called being a “celeb”. I just don’t understand why people feel a need to live vicariously through them.

Work Friend: “What did you do last night?”

Vicarious Puppy: “ooohh…I went for a few drinks to the trendy place where I queue jump because I am so famous and then I lost my kids in a custody battle. What about you?”

Work Friend: “Stayed in and watched soaps on the telly and had spaghetti bolognaise for dinner.”

Vicarious Puppy: “Shame. My life is so exciting!”

Now don’t get me wrong. A lot of people want that little “extra” in their life. I myself live vicariously. Not through “celebs” but through our cat and parrot. It’s a double bonus of alternative life goodness.

Some days I am the cat. She goes and spends all night out doing whatever it is that cats do at night. And I have always wanted to stalk a mouse, catch it, bat it about a bit and then eat it raw. Or leave it next to my wife’s head to show how clever I was. And if you don’t praise me for the gift I brought you, next time you are getting a duck.

Other days I am the parrot. He has the ability to talk complete and utter rubbish (I have a strange feeling of deja vu) and yet people look at you and say “awwww…he is so cool”. I also get to break things and attack my toys without fear of reprisal. The art of destruction is looked on as a sign I am not bored or angry, but am actually enjoying myself and happy.

So there you have it. Stuff the “celebs”, live your life through something way more interesting.
But if the strings of your heart are tugged on by these attention seeking idiots, I hope it plays the same noise mine do. The strings, when pulled, currently make a “groan” noise.

Dammit. This blog is practically turning into a “How to diet” blog, but this news story was just too hard to pass by.

——————-

DISCLAIMER. It is not gonna be a pretty post. If you have a quite vivid imagination, it is not going to be without it’s downsides. Also not recommended while enjoying a hearty meal, or just before a meal.

——————-

According to “The Nannying state’s next piece of journalistic bull” (also known as “The British Medical Journal”), eating sugar free gum leads to severe weight loss, and gives you bad diarrhoea.

If I was a teenager with a little extra around the waist, or an anorexic who thinks they are fat, this is awesome news. Not only do you lose weight, but it pretty much gives you colonic irrigation. Why the hell do they deliver this “report” in January when almost every single damn person on the planet is thinking “hmmm…lets google quick weight loss diets”.

I dunno about you, but I am thinking of never giving this a go. Although, I feel I should also offer you the “Sy Diet“* if you do feel that you want to try something. If you want to feel like you are in a living hell (which is pretty much what any diet must feel like), then this is maybe the one for you.

What you do is:
Jam a water tight cork in your behind and then get a stupidly strong curry every night for five days and stuff as much of that as you can in your gullet. And I mean stuff it in. It is a diet remember…this is going to be practically your last meal. (Although when you think what it is doing to you, it may well be your last meal! Dead man pooping…)

Once that is done, it is time to remove the cork. Bear in mind there is 5 days of curry begging to get out along with anything that was in your body before you started, so can I recommend maybe an area easy to clean.

Probably not good to go removing it in the toilet at work, or at a friends house. Do it in a place where you have a good quantity of alone time…if not for you, for the person you live with. I just cant see how it is going to be pretty.

After removal…well, I think you can do the math. If you don’t lose weight within a few days, then I dunno…there is no hope for you. Start the gum.

I should also give one warning. This diet could lead you to start believing in God. If you aren’t praying in the first two hours after removing the cork, then you are probably a stronger man then me.

* – I have never actually tried this, and will never try this, so if you have any side effects, go cry to someone else. Actually, please don’t try this at home…

Is it me, or are they assuming that we don’t know that bread is the perfect thing for making sandwiches and toast? I have been using CD cases until now as it held the filling in, but maybe this is the miracle I have been waiting for!

I am sure that it is on there to stop some idiot suing them because they used it to wash up plates with and it kept falling apart in the water instead.

OK, I give up. What am I doing wrong? I have never been in a strike and I want to be. Everyone else seems to be able to.

Every time I open up a news site, someone else is going on strike.

We have the police wanting to go on strike over having to arrest people.

The Indian cricket team want to go on strike over the fact they lost…or something like that. Even the Spanish are going on strike. The clinics that deal with 90% of the legal abortions are going on strike over the fact the cant take a siesta during an operation. Or over wanting better legal protection. I don’t know, I got bored reading it.

Then there is the post office who are striking over the fact they have to deal with letters and it isn’t in there contract to deliver the post.

Even Virgin Airlines cabin crew want to strike over being paid the amount they accepted when they took the job.

The company I work for even voted for some strikes, but because I am not a member of the union, I couldn’t even take part.

So we have the police, sportsmen, doctors, postmen, airlines and the people I work with all looking at or having a strike, and I am not invited.

In fact, through all of it, I stand to lose out quite a bit. What if the postman doesn’t deliver the bill for my satellite TV so I cant pay it and they cancel my subscription which means I cant watch the cricket which gives me high blood pressure but my Dr isn’t there. So I book a holiday but cant get there as Virgin Airlines are striking. So I go on a rampage, but there are no police to stop me.

If that isn’t bad enough, now my cat has gone on strike. She wont go out because of the rain and is having a sit in protest until it is dry outside.

It all started 2 days ago. It was a quiet day. Not much going on. I was on my laptop surfing respectable websites, and she jumps on the table and asks where her barbie jacket is. I tell her it is wherever she left it, so she huffs and wanders off. Shortly after, she returns wearing her pink barbie jacket and army boots and tells me she is off to meet some friends. She goes to the window and then just stops.

“It’s raining. Make it stop.” she meows to me.

I explain that I cant do that, and she stamps her feet (which is loud when there are four of them, all in army boots!) and leaves the room. She comes back later asking if I made it stop raining yet and again I explain I cant do it.

She is now having a sit in protest at it. I have no problem with that in principle as it means she wont come in soaking wet and decide that my clothes need paw prints on them. But she has invited all her pussycat friends round. Now, whatever I do in my own home, I have a group of cats all dressed up and resembling the “Pink Ladies” from the film Grease mocking me and holding up banners saying how bad a Dad I am and demanding equal rights for cats.

That’s it, I have had enough. I am not going to feed her anymore.

I am officially on strike!

The power of advertising and marketing is an impressive thing. You can get a complete waste of space ex-reality TV “star” (I use the term so loosely it could fall off of the planet) or someone of equal uber un-intelligence plastered in front of your face making you spend your hard earned money.

I am talking about these videos which come out every January, and by February, you will get them for £0.99p in the bargain bucket.

Every year, a load people I have never heard of release there “Bunny Bounce Workout!” or some other such stupidly titled rubbish.
“You too can get a figure like mine by jumping up and down like a bunny on acid for only 3 minutes a day while waving your hands in the air like you just don’t care!”. They forget to tell you that the hunger built up by doing said workout should not be filled by a trip to the Krispy Kreme donut shop, and that the workout reeeeeeally wont work unless you drastically change your way of life.

Why do people buy them? OK, so I know why…because it is a new year and you have your resolutions to uphold which is to get the figure like sticky the stick insect.

But what does having the sticky the stick insect body bring you? Is it because people think they are ugly and unattractive? And what happens if after 3 days of doing the bouncy wavey workout, you don’t have that figure?

Generally people at this stage give up.

Does this mean that people think they (if single) will be left on the shelf forever?
Well don’t worry if your workout doesn’t go completely to plan…because…

*drum roll*

According to someone with too much spare time and a lacking interest in real research, by 2050 you will be able to hump a robot. Legally. Not that I guess it would be illegal now, but the robots built by 2050 will be designed to let you get your end away rather then those of today which mean attaching yourself to the exhaust of a robot and depending on the heat, getting blistered on the end of your fun department. But again, if that’s your “thing”, then your time has already come my friend! (excuse the pun).

It is also said that you will be able to marry them. Come on…that cant be serious. For some people it is hard enough to come out of the closet and show their parents there new “best friend”, but how the hell do you ever walk up to your parents and say “Mum. Dad. This is CXZ-42D. I love her, and we are getting married!”.

You are basically showing your parents your new automated hand shandy machine.

And over time, you are going to become old, yet lil ol‘ CXZ is going to stay looking the same. So if you want to hide your little secret, you are going to have to blind everyone who knows you…or move to Thailand.

What happens if you want to divorce CXZ? You know that some “Robots Rights” bunch of numpties will rise from the ashes of broken relationships where the wife finds her husband cheating with dolly the robot and suddenly the robot is getting 50% of the cash!

It was also said that the market for these machines would be more then likely filled by those too ugly to be able to get it anywhere else. Now I know that this is not true. Ugly people get it too. I know this as I have hard facts. “What facts?” you may be thinking.
Well, my wife is pregnant. She had sex with an ugly bloke. That is about the end of my research on this matter as I believe I have fully investigated it.

The ugly dude can get the hot girl…then impregnate her and keep her forever.

The endless whining. Begging. Pleading. The confusion. The crying. The “why is it happening to me?” and the “What did I do to deserve this?” noises.

Does that sound familiar? Should it? Because I am talking about a cat.

If it somehow relates to your life, move along. This post will be of no use at all to you.

My poor kitty has come in to season for the first time. This has caused a LOT of confusion in her little mind, which is understandable. There is also a very pretty ginger dude meowing at the front door all damn night. He wont shut up, or go away. A couple of nights ago it was raining pretty hard. That ginger dude sat at the front door begging to come in so he can take advantage of my little girl. And he thinks this is a good idea? He thinks I am going to let him in so he can get his end away?

So I let him in.

I dried him with a towel and kicked him out again, just for him to sit back at the door making the infernal meowing noise. Meanwhile, in the front room behind a closed door my little girl is making noises like a horse having his family jewels chopped off by a blind rhino armed only with a jar of tomato ketchup. It is not a pretty noise. The noise will apparently last for 2 weeks. My advice is this. If you get a cat, get it sorted before it comes in to season unless you want kittens…coz damn…the noise they make? I am expecting the RSPCC around anytime soon because they think I am abusing a child.

What also doesn’t help is that my cat now regularly walks up to me, wiggles her backside, moves her tail to the left and presents herself to me while making a noise which I guess is inviting to a male cat, but to me is just not going to happen. So when I stroke my cat now, is she enjoying it in the way she usually does, or does she now get off on it? Infact, why am I even thinking about this stuff, let alone writing it on here!

I have been told that I cant have her sorted out until April. How many more times am I going to hear the weird meowing noises?

So here is the question:

Should I let the ginger dude in the house to let them both have what they want…and sell the proceeds? The end result will be a mix of a long haired fluffy all ginger thing mixed with a short haired all black dudette.

Interested? Bidding starts at £50. Payment accepted in the form of whisky. Don’t be shy!

My body is a temple. Unfortunately for me, it is the temple of doom.

Indiana Jones wouldn’t be able to sort this mess out! I don’t have anything resembling a 6 pack. I have a small(ish) brewery for a stomach.

Before my wife got pregnant, I had been known to have a drink a couple of times a week. By a couple, I mean every night. So every night I would have a few drinks. By a few I mean a lot. The obvious side effect of the quantity of beer/wine/whisky/brandy/paint stripper and engine oil being consumed is the amount of weight put on.

Of course, the food side of things also helped this matter a little, but alcoholic drinks were always the winner.

Now, with the advent of the fruit of my loins being on the way, I have given up the juice.

From seeing the odd episode of that TV show where that annoying idiot looks at peoples crap and then lectures them on not chewing food properly (no one tells her she needs plastic surgery to make her look like a real human, so what right does she have to call people fat?) and telling them to give up drinking, therefore making them lose weight, I figured that the same rules should apply to me.

So the juice has stopped for about 9 weeks now and we don’t really have a proper dinner per say anymore as my dearest has been a little off the food with the pregnancy and lives on strawberry nesquik milkshakes.

A quick jump on the scales and it tells me I have put on 4lbs (or about 2KG’s if you are of the American inclined). Maybe it was that horse sized turkey I ate over Christmas? How do you put ON weight when you stop eating and drinking as much? The scales lie. And they are in cahoots with my clothes who are sucking it in when I put them on thus making them tighter on me.

So what to do! There are a couple of things.

1 is to get back down the gym, which seems like a lot of hard work. Another is to turn vegan and eat everything I hate and nothing else. mmmm…lentils for dinner again?! What did I do to deserve such luxury! So no. Never going to happen.

The answer to this little conundrum?

The Norovirus.

According to the news, this naughty little virus is causing a whole manor of trouble here. It is like a 4 day crash diet (and a great reason to not go to work after Christmas!). Honk your guts up and clear out your bowels and not eat a thing for a few days. By then, I will be so empty and not wanting food that I will automatically cut down on the amount of food I do actually eat. I have just one down side to this. With over 1 million people currently doing the toilet jig
through having it…I haven’t seen a single person with it. If anyone knows someone with it, please get them to cough in my general direction.
Think of it as doing a needy fat bloke a favour!

“You mark my words young man!” and “You’ll eat your words!”.
How many people have heard those lines. OK, so you might be female, so it might be “young
lady” instead of “young man”, but you get the gist. Don’t make it difficult for difficults sake!

I have finally found the two statements will indeed come true. I bought “Edible Scrabble” which is “Made from Real Belgium chocolate!” as the box excitedly tells me. Am I to assume that the statement is to tell me that the chocolate is the best you will get? Because frankly, “Real Cadbury chocolate” will taste like a pair of my sweaty socks were they to not make it properly, so surely the Belgium’s make the same mistake in the Chocolatiering process once in a while?! I am sure I will find out when I pick up the letters “s, r, d, w, o” and cant make a word with it, thus I will just eat the letters instead.

Then you have the following problem. Who do you play chocolate scrabble with? It is going to need to be a carefully selected few. Lets look at the possible participants:

There is the bad loser. You cant pick someone with a history of going off on one as they lost the game as they will get annoyed, pick up enough letters to write “Jigglybits” (coz I am sure that would be a good score) and scoff them down in one go. Game over.

Then there is the chocolate fan who “will just have one more as they are so nice!”. Their score will be in minus figures and will eat the letter “Z” as hey…what words have that in it! (does the German version of scrabble have more then 1 Z in it?)

I will pause this here for a second and mention an observation. I am on the PC but in front of me is Sky News. There is a bloke with blonde shaved hair at the side, then a green mohican and the top part is red and goes in to a pony tail. WHY!!!! I would say he looks stupid, and I will…but only because this blog is a Rated Universal. But you know what I REALLY want to say!

Aaaaaaanyway. Back to the chocolate munching participants.

You then have the intelligent one. They wipe you out by scoring 300 points more then you do. This can have 1 of 2 effects. “Screw this…I am eating the letters! or “I am now not even hungry after that humiliation”.

There is the other issue of whose letters do you eat? As a friend told me: “I will lick them all before I put them on the board”. This may be the most unsanitary game I will ever play!

There is no easy way of saying “I might just play with myself then” as there are so many connotations when someone reads that. What I indeed mean is that I will play scrabble on my own. Or with my wife who is starting to need chocolate fixes since she fell pregnant. Depending on pregnant mood swings at time of playing, she could be all of the above! She is generally the one that humiliates me though…

So another year has started. I guess that means about the same as this time last year. Nothing. Nada. Nout. I do have just one resolution this year. I have decided that I will just make broken promises to myself all year and that way I don’t have to feel bad about messing anything up by mid January! I cant fail this one!

This Christmas was also a landmark. It was the last Christmas and New Year as a family of 2 in my house. Next year there will be a small 5 month old mini me demanding our time. It will then be the same for many years to come. I can imagine a lot of people would see this as a daunting time. Frankly, I can’t wait! I live with who I regard as my soul mate, and only good things will come from a little us bounding about the house breaking stuff! Wont it?!