Home is where the best day of your life is – case solved

I just wrote that headline, up there, at the head of this blog, that’s just a line of words, I wonder if that’s where that word comes from? Like it’s literal. I always thought it was because it came from someone’s head. Unlike most of the other lines that make up most newspaper columns, which come mostly from the moldy donut in the break room that has been typing furiously for 82 years, and ain’t no one is willing to even ask questions about it. ‘It’s doing the job, we ain’t messing with that’ is a very profound quote that I think would be the type of thing that the head editor of the newspaper where the donut writes would say. Although no one knows for sure, because no one bothered to write down the stuff he said.

Where was I? Oh yes, I wrote the headline for today’s blog without really thinking about what, if anything, it meant. The point is that this evening I went and saw a movie in the cinema where I used to see movies when I was at University. It was a bit of a homecoming, you might say. It put me in a reflective, nostalgic, and warm place. Which is weird because my university days were bleak, forgetful and cold.

Truth be told I chose not to dig deep into those wistful feelings this evening, I chose to instead just feel them, and not try to get any meaning or answers from them. This is rare for me; I normally overthink the fuck out of absolutely everything. I am currently even overthinking how to best express the sentiment that I way overthink, even though I know it’s something I have stated clearly in this very paragraph, and doesn’t need anymore stating, especially seeing as I genuinely don’t want to write about my overthinking issues, especially as one of the things about today that made it the best day of my life was the very absence of this overthinking in this one particular scenario. I just felt the feelings. I liked feeling them. Case solved. Or done. Or it wasn’t really a case, just, you know – that was it, because that was all it needed to be.

So I wrote tonight’s headline just from thinking ‘I might put the word “home” in there somewhere and see if it leads me anywhere’. Then without thinking anymore found myself typing ‘home is where the best day of your life is’ and then I stopped briefly. ‘Man, I could seriously unpack a line like that, the fact that it came out of my brain tonight is probably some sign that I need to do some serious thinking about where I am, where home is to me, what I want to do with the rest of my life, the immediate future, the rest of the evening, what do I want to do on Tuesday February 12^th 2039, do I want to get online and look up whether or not February 12^th 2039 is actually going to happen on a Tuesday, if it is and I just picked that date at random does that mean anything, what if that’s the day I end up dying and by some fluke these blogs are found and people start to look at as some sort of Nostradamus, only way more talented, and probably better looking, although I am basing that on likely grooming, showering and fashion trends of our respective times rather than any genuine thoughts that I am better looking than him, or anyone for that matter, and why do I say things like that, is it so bad to even think for a moment that I may be better looking than another human being, no one is going to judge me because of that, unless they do, and then that’s going to make me feel like shit isn’t it, unless they judge me favorably because of it, holy fuck I think out of six hundred million times I have felt like I am going to get judged because of something this, right now, is the first time it’s occurred to me that you can be judged favorably, wow, what does that mean?’

But then before I had the chance to write about what that headline may or may not mean, I got lost of a tangent or two, and remembered how nice it was to feel something nice and then not overthink it. So I choose not to think about what that headline means, or how it could be broken down and analyzed. I choose to feel warmth.

Ps. Some people say that newspapers are not written by a moldy donut at all and think anyone who thinks they are is nothing short of a moron, in fact you’ll often even hear them screaming out at night ‘it’s not a moldy donut that writes papers you fucking idiot, it’s a moldy bagel!’ But then who really can tell after all these many years of mold build up. It’s what’s in the middle of the mold that really identifies and represents the truth of what a person, or bakery item, you are. Oh fuck, if I was in the mood, I could totally overanalyze that.  

The Best of 2014: It’s my annual end of year list of best end of year lists of the year

Another year is almost over. This time it’s 2014 coming to an end, finishing almost an entire year after 2013, which would be an awful result in most sporting events. Although I think Lance Armstrong won by more than a year in the ‘tour de biggest cunt of a cheat in the world’ event a couple of years back. Also who could forget the Winnipeg 10k fun run two years ago when Welsh runner Kelvin Mohanny claimed he would attempt the ‘slow and steady’ tactic, and after a year of waiting officials finally began to take down the finish line paraphernalia so they could quickly set it up again for the following years race, starting that day, only to find ol’ Mohanny saunter over the finish line screaming ‘Did I win? Did I win?’ He did of course win, but only because all eight other runners that year had been sadly eaten by Sasquatch. 

With 2014 now coming to it’s own triumphant ending, two full years since 2012 itself was sadly eaten by a swarm of Amazonian Paranoia Wasps, there is one thing we all know for sure – unimaginative TV shows, magazines, websites, couch potatoes, cereal boxes, small town mayors, crazy street monologists, podcasters, radio broadcasters, and even some human beings, are coddling together a bunch of content we are all already bored sick of, and putting it on their ‘best of the year’ list. 

Well, not here. Not from me damn it. It’s now, once again, time for my exclusive, unique and fan adored – end of year list of the best end of year lists of the year:

5. ‘The Kid’s Party Clown, Magician and Super Hero Newsletter’ for their awesome list of most unique way to let out a swear after being punched in the balls by a stupid kid, without getting in trouble for swearing. Number one spot of course going to Zonno when he exclaimed ‘I may not be on top of my game, but I am FUCKtioning at the best of my ability’.

4. ‘Crap Life Hack Twitter Account’ for their list of crappiest life hacks. My personal favorite was ‘use an old DVD cover to put over a dead cockroach so your wife or housemate eventually has to pick it up, but let's face it. They probably won't, and in the end you'll have to do it, and now you have two things to pick up’.

3. ‘Tax Auditor Magazine’ for their truly hilarious, and profound list of favorite amounts people tried to illegally tax deduct. The top three of course being $12,674.98, $3.29, and $2,999.99. Really an awesome list, check it out if you haven’t already.

2. ‘Today’s Last Customer Podcast’ the podcast where people who work in retail call in and talk about the last customer they dealt with before finally quitting. And their list of top ‘we sure can tell why they quit’ callers. Top spot of the year went to Tom from Oxnard California, who quit after, and I quote ‘so this guy right, he’s like “what time do you close” and here’s the thing, the opening hours are on the door man, they’re like written right there!’

And, drumroll please, this years best, most unique, creative, and beautifully presented list of best things of 2014 list, goes to………

1. ‘Dance Studio TV’ the brand new cable channel with all dance all the time, like even if you’re not in the mood for dancing, or if the music sucks, and their brilliant list of the top ten accidental dances of the yeah. Number one spot, and who could forget it – guy trying not to fall into the volcano. Ha ha, man his hands a were swinging like a humming bird before he was burned alive in front of his entire research department, hilarious stuff. 

If I missed any great lists please feel free to let us know about them. And with 2015 here soon let’s hope for another year of great things to lead to great lists of great things all just waiting for next years list of best lists of the best of the year list. In the meantime I’ve off to do a gig as a clown at a kids party, if I get kicked in the nuts I have this one ready to go – look up at the stars, those groups are called CUNTellations!

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.