Chucking The Best Day of my Life – I better put those on

Today was best day of my life. This is in spite of the fact that I have procured myself a huge steaming bag of the reality of having earned myself a very minor wrist injury. I got it punching a boxing bag. I punched it light, with naked fists, and then I noticed the boxing gloves sitting next to the bag and thought 'I better put those on or else I might hurt myself' then I put them on and hurt myself with my next punch. How awesome is irony???

And now here is things you learn while having a very, very minor wrist injury:

1. You can have the best day of your life even on a day you have to go easy on high fives.

- Like sure, if someone raises their hand and says something like 'right on bro' you’re gonna hit that hand, to not would make you an outcast, but it'll be at 50% of possible velocity at best.

- Ok, yeah, if he adds a 'am I right bro' you might get up to 65%.

- Yes, no, you're right; if it turns out that he was right bro then 75%. But you'll regret it. Wish he hadn't been right even.

- Unless he's a real good bro, in which case you'd instead wish your wrist didn't hurt.

- Unless your bro is sometimes a dick in which case you'd instead wish his wrist was hurt.

- Then again if he's sometimes a dick then you probably never agreed that he was right bro, at best you'd have thought 'you may be right bro... Unless your being a dick'

- This of course is all assuming that your bro isn't you're actual bro, as in your brother, biologically speaking, or emotionally, I'm not here to judge your definition of a brother, or your relationship with them, that's your business, but if it's your actual brother, let's face it, you’re probably not going to high five them. I mean you shared a bath with him for Christ's sake. How are you not scarred for life? (Or brought forever into a hugging relationship, again I'm not here to judge how you relate with your brothers).

- I have a great relationship with MY brothers, just to be clear.

- But I’m not talking about that kind of bro, I am talking about a bro who isn’t a literal bro, you know?

- And situations when you high five them.

- With a slightly injured wrist.

2. I don't like the term 'bro'. Actually I really hate it. That’s it, I am never using it ever again.

3. I have no idea what having a sister is like.

4. ‘In spite’ of the fact? Was that right way up there near the top of this blog? Or should it have been ‘despite the fact’? It’s hard to use correct language when your wrist is hurting so you need to keep your writing brief, to the point, and to end it swiftly and distinctly.

5. Hey I just noticed that ‘wrist’ and ‘write’ share a lot of similarities. I wonder if that’s a coincidence? I am starting to think back in the 1900s when half the population wrote with hands, and the other half with feet, that the wristy people had a vested interest in the word ‘writing’ becoming the norm, when it so easily could have been instead called ‘toeing’.

6. Am I right bro?

The Best Day of My Life celebration - my Xmas morning

Best day of my life celebration - my xmas morning 

I had an amazing xmas morning. Here is my live commentary as it happened: 

- I just woke up - it's Xmas morning!! 

- I heard talking in my living room this morning. Do you think Santa was here? 

- Or do you think the ghost parrot I keep locked in my laundry finally realized it can fly through doors? 

- Ok, I think Santa WAS here. Because someone who's been eating milk and cookies got sick in my wok! 

- Oh, yuck, it turns out someone got milk and cookie sick in my guitar holes too - the F holes. That takes precision!

- Oh crap, there's sick in my jacuzzi too! Although based on the bikinis left here it may have been groupies skinny dipping. 

- There's a reindeer passed out on my porch, someone's drawn a dick on his face, although looks more like a donkey dick than a reindeer one.

- Starting to think Santa had a party in my house! 

- My trees missing but someone left a note saying 'headed for an emergency X-ray, I'll return the tree tomorrow' 

- There's white pubes all over my toilet bowl, in my kitchen sink, and for some reason all over my honey jar. 

- There's blood in the bag of baby spinach in my fridge. Red and green, very festive. 

- Looks like the booby trap knife attacker and hiding bandaids in the salad has worked out to be as in the spirit as I hoped.

- My xmas stocking is gone, and in its place a used condom has been staple gunned to the mantel.

- I just remembered I don't own a staple gun, me thinks I've figured out what my first present is! 

- Fuck, there's a kid in the laundry screaming 'yaaayy, Santa brought me a ghost parrot'.

- Screw it, I don't need my place enough to deal with this kid, I'm off to the family snowdrift tent city.

- Christmas stands for a mass for Christ, this year I'm trying mass gravitas, gotta be better than last years mass hysteria. 

Have a nice day everyone. And remember to enjoy it, you can hose down the reindeer poop tomorrow! 

The Best Day of my Life currency – Like the fishies

Today was the best day of my life I do so declare. Something awesome happened to me today. I was at the shops, and it was Christmas Eve. I wasn’t Christmas shopping though; I was just there because I like to be anonymous in big crowds. Actually you can scruff the word anonymous right from that sentence, I like crowds period. I don’t know why. I don’t like lots of people per-se. I don’t dislike people either. I like to people watch. I like it when lots of people are going in one direction and I am going in another. I like eating in food courts and reading a paper or a book. I like shit, shut up, okay.

So I was at the crowded shops and just walking around, listening to the awesome and epically underrated Chinese Democracy by Guns n Roses, to drown out the awful xmas music. And I found myself by chance passing the sock section.

Now, over the past couple of weeks I have several times thought to myself - ‘I need to get some new socks, next time I am at the shops and near the socks section I should grab them, socks that is, not the shops, and by grab I mean purchase, I am not a criminal I am not going to fucking steal them, why do you even have to bring that up, you were thinking of stealing them weren’t you, no I was fucking not, I haven’t stolen a thing in over twenty years, at least intentionally, ok what the fuck does that mean, intentionally? Have you been stealing stuff and blaming it on me, your sub-conscious, wait I’m not your sub-conscious I’m your regular conscious, your above water conscious? Is that what sub means? Underwater? Submarines are underwater, well not always, sometimes they are above water, or at least floating on it, wait nothing ever really floats ON water, because there is always at least some part of the floating thing submerged, there’s that word again, sub, and it’s underwater again, holy fuck, I think I just figured out why the sub-conscious hides all the dark, messed up, twisted, forgot, blocked, and filthy parts of my existence, some cunt has tried to drown my memory!!!! But who??? I better write a list of suspects!’ – you know, just your average thought process.

Then today I was in the very same sock section that I had foreseen, and I realized now was my chance, I could buy the socks that I so desired to complete my mission of new sock purchase, allowing me way more time to one by one track down and interrogate the six hundred and forty eight main suspects I have listed as most likely to have tried to drown my memory. But then I thought ‘nah it’s the day before Christmas, the person that sells them to you will think that you are buying them as a present for someone, which would be a lame present, and then the check out person will think I am lame, and what happens if they end up being someone who I run into on a future day when I have just been stabbed in the leg, leaving me a lame duck, down for the count, and in desperate need of help, and then I will call out to this person, and they’ll say “you’re a lame duck, and a lame gift giver, don’t drag me down into your lame spiral of shame”, and then I will have to explain to them the realities of probability, and how the rule of threes when it comes to bad things is probably a myth as spread by the Chinese Triad, who have a vested interest in the number three being feared, and this explanation will take a considerable amount of time, and during this I may well lose a lot of blood’.

But then I thought ‘screw it’ and bought the socks anyway. And as I made the purchase the lady behind the counter remarked ‘buying yourself socks’, having correctly made the very intelligent assumption that someone that looks as beautiful and as sound of mind as I, would be perfectly comfortable buying something for myself, even on this day usually dedicated to the buying of products for others.  

Then I made a terrible joke about needing to freshen up my sock collection, that in hindsight was not so much a joke, but a false declaration of my feet being stinky, which embarrassed everyone involved, and made the lady behind the counter add me to her list of suspects most likely to be the cause of her future brain hemorrhaging, and I went home proud of my achievement. In sock purchasing that is, not killing that lady, unless it turns out she was the one who tried to drown my memory! Holy shit, it makes sense, cause if she was on my list, then sold me socks, then was the one who dunked my memory underwater that would be THREE times I’d encountered her.

Holy fuck, I think the triads might be about to steal Christmas – RRRUUUUNNN!

The Best Day Of my Life Steeliness - epitome and exemplification

Today was the best day of my life, and for really clear reasons. Today I missed a train! Yay.

Well ok, that’s not that unusual. And actually when I think about it I didn’t miss the train. I got on a train. It wasn’t the first train I saw. It was the third in fact.

Holy shit a huge cockroach just crawled onto by desk as I am writing this. At first I thought it was a big ass spider, in which case I would currently be dead, from jumping so high I smacked my head on the ceiling till I was DEAD! Which makes no sense because I didn’t jump when I actually saw it, and at the time I thought that I had seen a spider, and proceeded investigated to see what it actually was, thinking it was probably a spider. The point is I am a goddamn hero, brave beyond belief, possibly should be given some form of cape. Back to the train.

Cockroach update:  When I had discovered that it was actually a cockroach I decided to jump back on this computer right away, instead of catching and killing the motherfucker. And then I wrote that line – back to the train – which in it’s own way was a quite brilliant sentence, informative, retrained in it’s poetry, i

HOLY FUCK!!!!!!

Ok, ok, ok…

So I was writing the above thing, about the sentence and all that shit, and I was going off on a tangent, because I do things like that from time to time, and I didn’t quite get to the point I was trying to make, which was that because I decided to instantly write about the cockroach instead of catching the fucker and killing it, I had now lost it. I wrote that beautiful line about the train, knew where I was heading next, and thought I can write that bit after I catch it, but couldn’t find it anywhere. I think I just said the same thing twice in a row in slightly different ways, neither completely clear, but I can’t fix it right now because my adrenalin is running too fast, and now that I have mentioned that I can’t fix it, I can now never fix it or else that line won’t make sense, and I can’t get rid off that too, or else I will have written this whole paragraph for nothing.

So I was writing the above thing, about the sentence and all that shit, then I wrote ‘retrained in it’s poetry, i’ and chose that moment, of all moments, during a adorable soliloquy on the beautify to be found in the spaces left blank, the poetry not said, but implied. At least that was my intent, but instead I wrote the letter ‘i’ and took a sip of my mostly empty can of soda, and as it reached it’s almost upside down trajectory so I could pour the last droplets of deliciousness into my mouth, the fucking cockroach crawled from the bottom of the can straight towards my face!!@!!

HOLY FUCK!!!!!!

I jumped like a fucking little bitch. I should not be called a hero. No fucking way. I am but a scared little bug with the tip of a big ass frog tongue about to snatch its face right off it’s little body. Adding a bug metaphor here was stupid, as it may confuse the issue more. But I can’t fix it now, or I will have written that for nothing. So I jumped an inhumane amount. Almost like I had the power of flight. Oh wait? Only superheroes can move like that. I am once again a hero. Thank fuck.

Please note: The fucking cockroach is now as dead as anything on this earth. It’s deader than a dinosaur fossilized, then carved out of the stone, then mashed into a powder, then snorted by some weird psychedelic scientists. Which then killed them. Because it turns out snorting dinosaur bones is dumb. And the dead scientist’s bodies were donated to scientist. Where they were cut up into little pieces and spread to medical schools and research labs across the country. Where small-minded future PHD’s used them to play ‘oh fuck my eye just fell in my salad’ practical jokes in front of their unsuspecting parents, causing at least several to have heart attacks. And when the ambulances arrive they realize the severity of the situation and race towards the hospital as fast as humanly possible, only to lose control and crash off a bridge into a river, where it explodes like a nuclear bomb due to the extremely high levels of chemical pollution which had recently been illegally dumped into the drainage that flows into this river, and will eventually be blamed for a new outbreak of leprosy which will kill 14,987 people over the course of many ‘does this water taste funny to you’ years.

Ok, brrrraaagghhheewww. I still feel dirty, it was looking at me! I think it ran at me! Why do my pubes now feel itchy, it didn’t go anywhere near there!

So the train story has kind of been lost. Fucking cockroach. But anyway, I just missed a train, then had to wait twenty minutes for the next, and instead of getting pissed off I decided to use the time to my advantage, and I made a phone call which I had been putting off due to a severe phone call phobia I suffer from, and even though there was no answer I felt good about my positivity, fear facing and time usage. I knew right as I eventually got on the train that the time had become the epitome and exemplification of why today was the best of my life. And decided then and there that this would be what my blog today would be about. Just that. No tangents. No distractions.

All ruined by a cockroach.

I could fix it, but then I would have nearly been brutally murdered by a cockroach for nothing. Sometimes things happen for a reason I guess.

Ps. Hey garbage person, sorry for leaving the many parts of a dead cockroach in the bin, I hope none of it falls out on you. But if it does and you jump an inhumane height, then you’re a goddamn superhero.

Here's some Xmas cheer

The Best Day Of My Life Hierarchy - correct names

I love class systems, cause you really know where you stand. In class. 

Get it. Cause you're in class standing and that's a system. Like if that was the system I was referring to before. Which I was. 

We interrupt this brilliant comedic display of humor that really is relatable but also crafty and poetic to bring you this: 

There once was a small wand. It was magic. As all wands are. That's what makes them a wand. Otherwise they're just a bloody stick. And if you call a stick a wand you may as well just re-label everything. Oh see that receptacle for garbage, it's called a meteorite, and that moving vehicle with a person driving it, that's called a  parrot, and that liquid that man is sucking into his face with a straw, that's called an airplane. 

Fucking hell, you see what happened here - now there is chaos, someone asks you:

'Can I consume my airplane in your parrot or should I put it in a meteorite' and you don't know what the fucks going on. You'd be all like:

'Um, meteorite please, last time you had an airplane in my parrot you spilled it and made the console sticky!'

Some fucking people. 

Where as if someone asks: 

'Can I consume my airplane in your parrot or should I put it in a meteorite' before all these things we're renamed and then, wow, your going to have a fucking awesome day no matter what you choose. 

A guy putting an airplane in a meteorite would be bad ass. But I'd choose for the guy to eat an airplane while inside a parrot! Brilliant fun. 

So it was a wand, and it WAS magical okay. I think we've proven that's more fun. But it was small. At least as far as wands go. So it felt bad. 

And that's why I hate class systems, this thing is magical and feels bad just cause it's small? That's bullshit. 

So yeah, I had an awesome day. I got a sleep in and pizza! Or as they are called now a harpoon and jugglers. And if you're day is all harpoons and jugglers then someone is bound to eventually have a hilarious accident. 

Renaming stuff kicks ass. 

The Best Day of My life Brilliance – Oh my

It’s 4:37am as I begin to write this. I’ve been working non-stop since I woke up at the crack of 12:45pm. I am utterly exhausted and yet I am not going to bed quite yet, because my day has been so wonderful, brilliant even, that I can’t go to bed without writing about it here. I just can’t.

Wait. Did you just look at me like wryly? As if you think I am being sarcastic? Like you doubt the sincerity of that above statement?

Well don’t look at me like that please. I really am not being sarcastic. Why would you think that? Plus isn’t ‘wryness’ more of a tone or mouth style, rather than a way of looking at someone? Why would YOU defy the very meaning of a word, possibly, I am not really sure to be honest, and I am too tired to look it up, but why would you do that and then accuse me of being sarcastic?

Oh fuck, I almost think I am talking myself into thinking that I was being sarcastic, by protesting too much. And I don’t really care for protesting. Unless it’s for something you really super believe in. And I don’t really care for doing anything too much, because by definition ‘too much’ means ‘too’ much. Although I am too tired to look that definition up. Also if I use the word ‘too’ too many more times I will feel I will have used ‘too’ too much. Which by definition I think would mean that I’d used it ‘too’ much. Oh my.

The point is today was brilliant. The best day of my life even. Lots n lots n lots of work on our webseries. Just the right amount of work. Not too much work at all.

No, I’m not being sarcastic. Ok, no, ok I’ll accept that. But only because you didn’t look at me wryly.

Um, yeah, they CAN both exist at once

Still need a perfect Xmas present to show all your friends and family how much you love them?

Get - Ok, Intriguing: Hell Yeah! Awesomenessous

Or do you need something to distract you from how much you secretly hate all your friends and family?

Get - Ok, Intriguing: Hell Yeah! Awesomenessous

Super Awesome Funny Superstar Michael Ian Black calls it a

'Very Funny Book'.

I didn't even make that up, it's true! And yes I know that just because I didn't make something up doesn't mean that it's necessarily true. Obviously. I mean I didn't make up Caveman Styled Stove-Top Battery Powered Sponges. How could someone make that up? It's almost impossible. Anyone who could conjure the mere thought of putting those words together, let alone in that order, would have to be a mad genius. Yet, there they are. And also the above quote is true, and is about this book. And is an accurate and truthful quote. I think I have just finally proven that you can pretty much trust anything you hear. That's got to make life a bit better right? You're welcome.

You can buy 'Ok, Intriguing: Hell Yeah! Awesomenessous' at all these awesome places: 









Amazon 

Amazon UK

Barnes And Noble

iUniverse

indigo

booktopia

And other places. Or order it through your local bookstore.

Oh while we're at it. Why not add in an awesomenessous copy of:

The Embarrassing Memory Murderer

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00AZK8VII/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img

And

Losing My Virginity 52 Times

http://www.amazon.com/Losing-My-Virginity-Times-ebook/dp/B003VYBREA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1337029904&sr=8-2

Don't you owe it to/ hate your friends and family enough?

The Best Day of my Life unfurling - casual record movements

The best day of my life unfurling - casual record movements 

When it's the best day of your life as frequently as my days are, in fact I think I'm probably fast approaching a world record for the most consecutive best days that have been better than the last. 

Which I think will give me a world record for most world records when added to, among tons of other titles, these impressive feats: 

- the person in the world least distraught by the word 'drudgery'. In fact I find it charming. 

- most times crimes crying during one episode of Two and a Half Men - two!! (The little one didn't know what a Fallopian Tube was, awww). 

- Most hours smelling my own forearm 74,467 hours (beat the old record by seven minutes!)

- Most times riding in a submarine while simultaneously being at one of the highest points in the world (once, totally in my imagination. I didn't care for it). 

Wait I got sidetracked, the point is the best day of your life can happen in all sorts of ways. Today's went like this: 

- I watched some cricket, got lots of webseries file organization done, went for a walk on the beach by myself, broke seven or eight world records, including seeing the most ever grains of sand that at first I thought were car wheels - 6743 (in my defense they are both roundish). And then I wrote a blog on my phone, this one. If I post this while levitating over a puddle made up exclusively of the condensation scraped off an ice cold bottle of apple, pineapple and sad clown tear juice, it'll be my forth time and a new world record!