Interest: Plummeting Faster than The Stock Market

What happened here? Suddenly, everybody needs to be motivated? 

It's a fairly simple thing: either you wanna do something or you don't.

George Carlin

Looks like I'm part of the latter group: even though I live a life of fiscal, recreational and organisational ease and luxury, it's harder than ever for me to bring myself out of bed, even if I have somewhere to be. I missed a whole day's worth of classes simply because I got up too late and couldn't be bothered going anywhere, the twenty minute walk being just too much for me to handle—first world's a bitch like that :P  It's ridiculous how one negative thought can manifest into ten or fifteen which then combine like the Power Rangers, using their incredible force to obliterate the evil that is my hopes and dreams :P  I used to actually have hopes and dreams… there aren't many left. Everyone around me seems to have concrete goals, or at least goals they can plan for and progress towards in a measurable manner. What are my goals? …don't be miserable… that's the only one I can say for sure. There's heaps of other stuff I'd like to do—that I'd love to do—but that for me doesn't automatically constitute a 'goal'. I've always been told a goal is supposed to be achievable, and that's the definition I take; once I deem such a thing unachievable, it stops being a goal and becomes a pipe dream. So I have lots of pipe dreams… meaning my life's going down the wrong tube.

The most prevalent dream, by law, must always be to do with a girl: whether it be in the traditional sense of 'I have a dream', or the contemporary sense of 'I had a dream last night', it's always a woman. University is a smorgasbord; and with classes as long as two hours, there's always time to ogle at the one I choose to in silence as she looks at her notes or the tutor. It's almost too easy—she sits on the other side of the room, for fuck's sake! Such pleasure in hypothetical futures quickly dissipates, however, when my brain deems this to be an illogical desire, at least when my personality and habitual flaws are brought to light. Any rational person clearly understands that there is no justification in chasing something this unlikely—surely, no woman would want to go out with anyone who looks, talks, eats or thinks like me. I'm ugly, picky, whiny and disgusting: what a catch :P  But, what am I supposed to do? Not look? Not want? Not dream? As much as I'd like to stop dreaming, it's not possible! I'm heterosexual: I'm going to like women whether I want to or not. Being the paradoxical little fuck it is, reason also states that this shit simply isn't reasonable: neither love, nor lust, nor attraction is controllable like that. I want it to be, but it isn't. That's what's really illogical: to expect me to ditch desires inherent in my nature as a human being.

I've had heaps of dreams lately (the kind you have at night fast asleep, even though I'm usually half awake when doing so; kind of like a daydream at night time) that portray me being close with a woman, beyond mere sexual contact. Images of all sorts fill me with warmth, such as me with my arms wrapped around her in bed; or cuddling her with my back against a wall; at a café together, her laughing as we converse; or at a dance of some form where her head rests on my upper chest (the dictionary doesn't really give me the impression that I have a 'bosom' for her head to be resting on :P), my hand slowly stroking the back of her head, fingers flowing through her hair, her eyes closed, using me as her pillow so to speak. The problem is, having not seen the particular girl I'm attracted to for about a month now (due to the break, classes being cancelled/missed, etc.), and only really scratching the surface on said attraction anyway, she's fading from memory; this leads to my brain going back and picking anyone it can to fill the gap. In this state, this limbo of allure, the woman's identity is far from static—sometimes it's an old face, sometimes a new face—but the actions remain fairly consistent.

I think it's clear, from what I infer, that I want a fulfilling relationship, something beyond what I've already had; but my self esteem puts me beneath all that, leading me to believe I cannot possibly achieve that for there is no woman on this Earth willing to put herself in the complimentary position, a position so many seem to have temporarily filled in my mind. Until I know more about the university girl's personality, she will not become a true fixation. To give you an idea of how little I'm running off here, I actually got kind of excited when I heard the word 'Magikarp' come out of her mouth—all because this might mean she likes Pokémon, which means she might like video games, which means we might have something in common beyond our subjects. Slim pickin's, huh—not to mention what a perfect image that is: I practically am Magikarp, splashin' around in a puddle and expecting it to do something other than make a noise :P  In a way, I like this mindset, at least in that it tells me that I want to go off what's on the inside rather than what's on the outside when it comes to true desire for a woman, but it also leaves me with this wayward romantic desire that won't go away.

I really do have to go out and meet people :P

Second to that, of course, come intellectual pursuits: a 'career' (a job'll do just fine, thank you :P) and the development of my mind in terms of culture and booksmarts. Every time I watch a comedy festival, or see some comic on stage in front of a big crowd, and seeing the reaction they get from what they do, I want to be just like them. I want to go in front of rooms full of people and speak my mind like I do here to make people think and to make myself feel like I'm worth something :P  Ever since I experienced the incredible minds of Carlin, Bruce, Hicks (just to name a few), I've wanted to challenge my own mind and that of others on stage just as they did; but once again, cracks in the path quickly form.

First is my great fear of food and travel: two things any performer on the road kinda needs to be fine with :P  Travelling in a car or a train isn't so bad—that I could deal with easy—but boats and planes fuck with me. I get seasick really, really easy; but even if I didn't, the plane is what will take me to different countries (this is 2012 for fuck's sake—why am I going on about boats in the first place :P). When it comes to air travel, both my fear of dying in a plane crash (quite a few of which I've read about recently—thanks, Wikipedia :P) and my discomfort with food (do they serve Doritos on aeroplanes?) both trample the dream. I know that unless I'm in the middle of nowhere in a non-Western nation, there will be a store that sells some bag or box of processed nourishment to keep me somewhat alive... or do I? Surely, if I did know that, I wouldn't be so scared... the level of quality in what my mind classifies as 'knowledge' has done nothing but skyrocketed lately (especially since taking Philosophy :P). Thankfully, I know that I can always think and write no matter where I am, so I take some comfort that I can still get my ideas out there, if only in written form.

The other problem for me has been coming up more and more, not only in watching other comics, but in attending university as well: everything's been said. Every fucking thing, goddamnit! It seems like everyday, I lose an original idea; I might have thought of the idea on my own, but someone else presented it before I did; so even though my idea was of my own conclusions, an audience won't see it that way. What is there to make fun of that hasn't been made fun of? What ground is there that people haven't explored already? What conventions could I challenge? Does anything offend anyone anymore? Does discomfort exist anymore? Or will everyone be perfectly OK with whatever comes out of my mouth? I've said controversial shit before, yeah, but the 'PG-tolerant' world of high school (in what they'd allow anyone to put on stage publicly, anyway) is gone: that was what made stuff I said to those people back then 'controversial' in any sense of the word. I could joke about anything to a pack of uni students and get into no trouble whatsoever, and in recently watching the 2011 Montreal Comedy Festival on TV, politics and social issues were certainly on the agenda (although in a nature far less confronting than that of Carlin, Hicks, etc. :P). I don't want to just say outlandish shit for the sake of attention; I want to provoke thought through the verbal comic instilment of discomfort in what we accept in society. It's not just a matter of saying 'fuck' anymore; it's a matter of stating why we're fucked, how we got fucked, and (perhaps) what we need to do to stop being fucked.

I suppose if I really wanted a challenge, I could always learn Arabic, go to Saudi Arabia to perform, and open with 'Man, what's the deal with fundamentalist Islam? Jeez, it'd be easier for a dog to get a driver's license over here than a woman, 'ey!'

If I truly want to start dabbling in comedy, there's a bar at the uni (named 'The UniBar'... sigh :P) that I could apply to perform at. Looking at their website, there's no 'comedy night' or 'resident comedian' or anything of the sort, so perhaps this'd be something new for them... which is exactly what I fucking want, isn't it? ...why haven't I applied yet... :P  This little opening keeps my comedy dreams alive, and it has done for over a year. I actually originally wanted to go there every week and perform, talking about whatever came to my mind, sometimes testing new bits, sometimes going on improvised rants (a la Williams, Noble or Izzard) about current events and whatnot. I'd love to be someone who could get on stage with nothing in terms of a script and then go on to perform an hour long show, but that takes practice (a lot of practice :P), and I'm just happy to get on stage and perform whenever I can, so it's good to have a place I can do that. My dreams of women, on the other hand, while prevalent, are taken to be ridiculous in nature, because there's nothing concrete there. There's just one girl I have my eye on (out of how many? Selective much? O.O) that I know nothing about—what can my mind do with that? Nothing productive, that's for sure :P

What's really mind boggling, however, is not that I'm thinking this way at the moment, but that I'm still thinking this way after doing so for a year. I wrote an article about a year back describing my self-esteem as a pendulum, swinging back and forth, where thinking of a woman seemed to bring the pendulum down and thinking of comedy (and a somewhat-certain girl interest) brought it back up: this is the exact same thing. The exact same thing. Verbatim. Identical. Different in no way, shape or form! ...how am I still back here!? Surely, I should have learned about this last time and moved on! But no, it's the same old shit, day after day, week after week: the wheels on the bus go round and round, but the bus is still bogged in snow, the same snow it has been for a very long time. Without action, there can be no progress, short of a burst of incredible luck, unreliable at best.

The fact of the matter is: I'm not willing to take risks anymore. I don't want to talk to this girl for fear of embarrassment and rejection; I don't want to ask anyone to let me perform comedy for fear of social contact and disturbing the status quo (in terms of scheduling: you have no idea how much I hate interrupting people—I don't even make phone calls on that basis :P); I don't want to drive a car for fear of a collision; I don't want to drink or consume any party drug for fear of loss of self awareness and control, possible arrest and almost certain bodily harm. I'm simply no longer in favour of putting myself in any position where there's anything substantial to lose anymore... compared to, say, when I was sixteen, telling a room of twenty people the name of the girl I'd liked for two years, or waiting outside the classroom she was in to ask her out; or pulling another girl aside months later to do the same thing, this time successfully, or perhaps kissing her without warning at the lighthouse; or getting on stage alone to tell jokes for the first time; or getting up on assembly without permission to bitch about the fence... what happened? Did the prescription on my balls run out? I mean, I loved the rush I got from doing all those things even though I didn't always get the outcome I wanted, yet I seem to have retracted further into my little shell, unwilling to chase that which I appear to revel in!

It seems that those are my two options: either stay spinning in this little emotional circle, within my shell, waiting for Lady Luck to see me in my self-indulgent peril, for her to be fooled into granting me everything I want; or actually make my own moves, knowing I'm going to fall down, but also knowing that I can get back up. It sounds fucking retarded and cheesy—believe me, I know :P—but that's the way it is. I'm not sure if and when my balls will regrow, but I do believe, rather strongly, that if there's something in my life that I truly want, whether it be to know if some girl is interested in me, or to try and can pull off comic shenanigans like those of my idols—if I truly want something—I'll persevere and go for it eventually. The aforementioned evidence is what leads me to believe this, as procrastinative as it may seem; that's where my faith lies. That said, however... I've almost certainly got shit to do :P

You know what they could do, though? How about reporting on some plane landings, huh? Plane landings: you know, what's supposed to happen when a plane gets to the airport! I think we might think of pilots as a bit more competent if we were actually told that they can do their jobs correctly every once in a while, don't you!?

Mistakes: You're Reading about Some

NB: This is a very long entry, but I want to get everything off my chest and out of the way in one hit. These issues are all related, the end of one marking the beginning of the next. If you do choose to read, however, read everything—every topic, every paragraph, every word—otherwise, you will not be in any position to properly analyse what has been written.

Also, I will not be making the subject of this writing aware of this entry's existence. I do not know the extent to which she is aware of the content, nor do I have means of direct contact anyhow. If she does know of (and has read) what was written about her, hopefully she'll find this; if she doesn't know, I'd rather keep her blissfully ignorant. In either case, let me make this perfectly clear: it is your responsibility to spread, or not spread, this information around, and this decision should be based on whether or not you know if the subject knows about what's written below. If she catches wind of this due to your mismanagement of the information, that is your fault, not mine. If (and only if!) directed to this, contrary to what's written above, it is only important that she reads the final paragraph; as for the rest, it's up to her.

Picture this: you’re going on a week-long trip with nine other people.

One of these people was your crush, up until a few weeks ago.

Another is your ex-girlfriend; her new boyfriend will be there, too.

Does that sound like it’s going to be fun?

Me, introducing my vacation blog entries.

Now, let us take a different perspective: suppose you're going on the same week-long trip with nine other people. One of them had a crush on you until little less than a month ago; you knew all along, but after having conversations with him, thought you could just be good friends. Meeting with him and the others at the trip, you didn't sense anything to be amiss between you, so you felt no need to be any different to your usual self. You had your own shit going on in your own life, but you didn't let it get in the way of the trip. Three weeks after you get back, you're reading a blog entry by that same guy vividly describing how he sexually fantasised about you and wanted to fuck you.

Or, suppose your Year 12 Formal is coming up. You've got your clothes picked out, your lifts organised, and you're ready for a fun evening. Not long before the Formal, you hear about how some guy who had a crush on you years ago is after you again. You spend the entire evening dreading his unwanted arrival at your feet to talk to you, and after nothing really seems to happen, you end up reading about how he wanted to fuck you as well.

Doesn't sound like much fun either, does it :P

Not long after the trial HSC finished, I posted the first entry that seriously discussed my sexuality. Ten more concerning similar subject matter were posted subsequently; one was about my Year 12 Formal and after-party, and the other nine were about the aforementioned trip away, held after exams were finished. For me, people's discovery of these articles marked the end of a tirade of insanity and the beginning of a whirlpool of depression and guilt. Some consequences are still in question; this entry assumes the worst :P

I feel it important to attempt to rectify the situation. Over the two months that were practically taken over with thought regarding all the things discussed below, I have attempted to express my views verbally many, many times, only to crumble under the pressure, call myself a cunt, curl up on my bed and fall asleep, anxious to forget it all. This may have complimented some subconscious desire to wake up with all this bullshit having been just a horrible, horrible dream. Reality, however, begs to differ.

I also wish to highlight the fact that while I do take these matters seriously, I know that life goes on and that this is not the end of the world—many a motherfucker can't recognise hyperbole when they see it :P  To speak too lightly of the situation is to appear careless through inherent apathy; to speak too strongly is to appear untruthful through apparent façade. I want to express what's written here both to show my intent in resolving the situation and to get it out of the way so I can think about other things. I've felt like shit about this for far too long, and to what extent my guilt is deserved depends on the actual consequences of my actions.

I will be quoting myself from a number of aforementioned blog entries; these were unpublished upon the realisation of their nature towards the individuals mentioned within. I will only quote from these sources when absolutely necessary, but please note that these quotations are real and truthful in nature, not manifested nor manipulated in such a way as to distort the reality they deliver. The target audience has been forced to study literary analysis for six years; if you can deconstruct Shakespearean theatre, what fucking chance do I stand :P

In regards to quoting from the blog, most people didn't seem to read the thing at the top that says "Do you think too much? I do." Most of what's published here, especially evident in the quoted entries, is blown out of proportion intentionally, whether it be for comic effect or to highlight an underlying mood or feeling. Much of it was recognised to be fucked up when I published it, and its publication was highlighting this. I know I over think things; those things can be explored here in the ridiculous setting they call home.

We'll start with the events preceding the Formal and after-party, as this is where things began to go wrong. Wind the clock back to the start of the second semester: late July, the first week of Term Three. Returning from school holidays, I quickly began to experience severe depression. I had lost contact with a girl I'd had feelings for spanning a few months, and had nothing to look forward to other than exams. I was not going to the Formal at this point, nor the after-party, and I was quick to affirm this position to anyone who asked whether I was going. Having no girl to set my sights on (which, before losing contact, really did boost my mood a great deal), I grew more and more frustrated having to see my ex-girlfriend when I was hanging around with my friends, and decided to leave my friend group all together, seeking solace in the library for the next ten weeks' worth of recesses and lunches. Lest the library was closed, that's where I was, without fail. A friend of mine had made a similar move earlier in the year, so we hung out together in the library quite a lot. We became comfortable talking about pretty much anything, and I discussed quite a few issues I was going through with her.

My depression is by no means an excuse for anything I've done, but being depressed certainly doesn't leave you in any state where you can trust your mind to make good decisions :P  I'm not fucking with you, either; seeing as I went to a therapist several times (to discuss my discomfort around my ex, and unrelated family issues), I'm pretty sure I'm not making this up for the sake of sympathy :P

In the midst of exams and solitude, the looming deadline for Formal payment came to light. I had enough money to pay, but silently pondered the consequences of attendance to, and absence from, this event. I did not originally want to go to the Year 10 Formal, but upon going, I enjoyed it far more than I thought I would. Yes, some of this stemmed from the fact that I'd liked a girl (henceforth referred to as 'Sally') for two years at that point, and seeing her in that environ pushed me to actually speak to her (something I wouldn't otherwise have done); but, even if you remove that element from the situation entirely, I still enjoyed myself. Returning to the present, I was left with two options: I was either to attend and enjoy myself, or stay at home and wonder how much enjoyment I was missing out on. My mind changed on this basis, and I arranged to go.

It was around this time that I began to write material for what would become that stand-up show I performed just before the Formal. Seeing as I had so much time on my hands (and was in no mood to study :P), I wrote enough to span fifty minutes of stage time; ten of these went specifically to speaking about Sally and what happened leading up to me asking her out. It was initially nothing more than just a ridiculous story I could tell to get some laughs; its exploration in writing, however, meant that Sally was on my mind. Sally, coming into the library more frequently to study as exams encroached on the cohort, was there to be seen. I looked at her more and more, only to see what was right in front of me, and nothing more. This marked the beginning of objectification I remained oblivious to until I was informed by someone else.

It turned from simple physical attraction to regular coveting which started little more than a month before the Formal. Although she wasn't identified at the time, it later became clear the following blog extract was written in 'regards' to her:

I've recently been fantasising about this one girl who is absolutely, drop dead gorgeous; the perfect mix of beauty and sex appeal. Every trait that gets me going lies in this one girl; and although she might keep to herself in the real world, her imaginary counterpart is quite the vixen :P  ...The coitus itself is different every time, but it's passionate and seductive; slow and meaningful. Hands and arms go everywhere; legs wrap themselves around anything they can find. She moans my name, I moan hers, and then I return to reality... stupid fucking reality >.<

'Fantasy: Why Is My Imagination Hanging Out with My Crotch?', published 20/08/2011

At this point, the fantasising is regular enough that I can, in explicit detail, describe exactly what I want to do with her (said explicit detail described what I imagined would lead up to the sex itself). It's also evident that I'm aware that this is nothing more than a dream, and an unrealistic one of that; "as if she's ever going to want me" couldn't be more spot on, in terms of both its truth and my understanding of it at the time. This is also evident when I refer to the fantasy girl as Sally's "imaginary counterpart"—I knew she was nothing like this in real life, and admitted the falsity right up-front. This, however, faded from thought as coveting continued.

Also notice the last few lines: I'm using words like "passionate", "meaningful", etc. Believe me, the fantasies felt very passionate and meaningful, because the Sally I'd pictured in my head was basically in love with me, as was I with her. This became the focus more and more down the track as I discovered that I didn't just want sex; what I really wanted was to be in a relationship at the time of the Formal and to do all the things a couple does, finally culminating in physical intimacy. What I truly wanted was a date—more specifically, a foxy date willing to put out :P  Upon realising this, the fantasy developed beyond mere sexual attraction; it became a complete vision of exactly what I wanted the entire event to be like, and the idea of losing my virginity was just the icing on the cake. Think of the Enchantment Under the Sea dance at the end of Back to the Future: everything turns out perfect.

It felt incredibly good to visualise this course of events, and it felt even better to pretend I could/would get a date to experience all this with—I even started wanting to ask Sally to go with me! We can all recognise, however, that this is beyond ridiculous: how could I seriously have thought that I could have walked up to Sally, asked her for a dance, danced with her for half an hour, developed a close, romantic connection between us in that time, and made love with her, when I've already asked her out and been rejected? ...the fuck kind of plan is that!? Setting the bar a little high, don't you think? It was a strong sense of hope and happiness I hadn't felt in a very long time, albeit being felt for the wrong reasons; and in the end, it was nothing more than a placebo masking a deep pain and loss.

Meanwhile, enter: 'Lisa', the other girl mentioned. She was initially just a girl I thought to be pretty, and I didn't really know much about her, nor did I really feel strongly enough about her to try to talk to her. This, combined with the fact that I'd left my friend group (where she usually hung out), saw feelings for her drift in the wind. If she entered the room, it'd be nice to see her, but even though I wanted to say 'hi', I didn't—the balls just weren't there, folks :P

We now arrive at our feature presentation: the Year 12 Formal and after-party. I wrote an entire blog entry on these two specific events and the lead up towards them.  There were two purposes for its publication: the first being to state my opinion of the event as a whole, expressing my feelings towards the subjects of alcohol, drug use, the party atmosphere, all that mumbo-jumbo; the second being the discussion of my desire that evening to lose my virginity with one of the two aforementioned girls. This goal became prominent over others as, having no true date, I went "well, I can at least try to get laid". The undealt-with build-up of lust, combined with my own desire to make progress in my sex life and actually get with somebody, convinced me that I was behind everyone else in terms of sex and that the after-party would be a good opportunity to catch up. Well, I was certainly behind, but only in my mentality :P

The afternoon of the day of the Formal, right before leaving the house, I had a very clear, concise plan of action for the evening ahead, described early on in the blog entry:

PLAN A: In a moment of her solitude, ask Sally if she would like to dance. If the answer is "yes", proceed from that point as necessary, progressing towards coitus. If rejected early enough in the night, move on to:

PLAN B: In a moment of her solitude, ask Lisa if she would like to dance. If the answer is "yes", proceed from that point as necessary, progressing towards coitus. If rejected at any stage, suck it up and hang around with your friends.

See what I mean when I say I think too much? :P  Remember that "progressing towards coitus" means that although coitus is the ultimate destination, it need not occur for fun to be had; and if they don't want sex, they won't get sex, end of story (considering what I look like, that's a big ask :P).

'Expectations: Ditch the Motherfuckers', published 24/09/2011

Militaristic, animalistic thought process going on here. To have a plan even this specific for a social event is fucking ridiculous; bringing the context behind Sally in reveals an all new level of insanity :P  To plan so far as trying to see where things could have gone with Lisa (just talking to her and going with the flow from then on) would have been perfectly fine—it was (and turned out to be) a good opportunity for that—but the reasoning behind it was corrupt. Wanting sex with a girl is perfectly fine and natural; thinking you can have sex with A: a girl you've already asked out and been rejected by, or B: a girl you hardly know or talk to who has no record of promiscuity, and then only socialising with them for that reason alone, is just a little retarded :P  Bear in mind: what's written in the quotation was intentionally exaggerated for comic effect. Those words were not the exact ones that went through my head the night before—they only served to represent the inanity of the thoughts themselves—but it still stands that I had an agenda.

Whilst I didn't walk into The Lagoon with a hard-on, women were on the brain: the first person I remember looking at was Sally.

Sally looked incredible: a beautiful silver dress with silver shoes, and pretty little things in her hair*.

'Expectations: Ditch the Motherfuckers'

* To be honest, looking back, I can't really say for sure whether there were things in her hair or not, because I never got that close to the back of her head :P  But, she had evidently done something with it, and I liked what I saw.

Now, remembering that this was written after the Formal and after-party (evidently when I was a little less horny :P), this was not what I thought when I got there; that went more along the lines of "oooohh goodie! She's here! :O and she's not with a guy! :D". I was relatively distracted from my intentions with all the photography and whatnot, for quite a while in fact. Not helping was a good friend of mine holding my ex in his arms. Any guy who's been there know how fucking hard it is to sit there and watch that. My lucky friend had exactly what I'd wanted: it only served to remind me of what I was missing out on.  Once again, it serves as no justification for anything I've done, but it does fuck with one's head. Ironically, Lisa was talking to me unprovoked every now and again—but, of course, at this point, was I giving much of a fuck about Lisa? :P

After dinner, planning circuitry was reactivated, leading to this:

Each look at Sally makes me more and more nauseous, and I eventually saw my moment: she was sitting at her table by herself. The problem is, because I've eaten, I'm really nauseous now, and I know if I go up and ask her to dance, I'll throw up on her face. "Bathroom now, Sally right after" I thought, as I went to get the sickness out of my system, hoping Sally would still be there when I got back. After feeling better, I went back to see Sally gone. She was back in that same position not much later, but I could not pull myself out of my seat to talk to her; I did not have it in me, and left her alone.

'Expectations: Ditch the Motherfuckers'

I'm evidently wanting to kick this off, but I'm already starting to have second thoughts on Sally. Even if I wasn't sick, I probably wouldn't have budged anyhow: she didn't exactly look to enthralled, even though I couldn't see her face. I mean, sitting alone with a drink? On your Formal night? While music's blasting away, and your friends are dancing or having photos taken? "Maybe she's on her phone or something... doesn't matter, I can wait :D". I went on to the dance floor twice after that to look for her, to no avail.

We now move on to the after-party. If I remember correctly (my memory shouldn't be this bad—I didn't drink a fucking thing after the Formal o.O) I told the friend driving me there about my desire for Sally. It was in no explicit detail, but I'm sure he was aware that I was interested in her in some way. Upon arriving there:

Sally arrived not long after, and she'd changed in to plain casual clothes... The look on her face was unusually sterile -- she didn't look like she was anticipating much, almost as though she'd been forced or coaxed in to attending -- but the main thing was: she was there."

 'Expectations: Ditch the Motherfuckers'

I'm still evidently keeping an eye on Sally, but my first sight of her at the after-party was anything but inviting. It began to form in my mind, albeit only slightly, that perhaps this isn't the Sally I wanted in the first place—only now am I beginning to realise that Sally's imaginary "vixen counterpart"... is imaginary :P  I kept a passive eye on her for hours: not actively seeking her, but certainly taking a look at what she was doing whenever I saw her; not once do I remember anything even resembling a smile. Granted, I'm not Sally's friend (I wonder why :P), but I'm not completely ignorant as to her personality and I don't remember her being an unhappy person. It didn't make sense, but I was trying to ignore it as best I could to try and keep my spirits up. I went to the Formal and after-party in anticipation, even when ignoring the sexual aspects—"why isn't she like that too?", I wondered. I even remember the guy who drove me there seeing her and saying (in that voice that isn't quite loud but is still audible from quite a distance :P) "hey, look! It's Sally!" I looked at her as he said it; she didn't even turn her head. I don't know whether she didn't hear it or was ignoring it, but I nevertheless remained optimistic: "Doesn't matter—she'll be happy soon enough, and that's when we'll strike :D".

My first even remotely good decision occurred here:

[Sally] came around to the camp-fire I was practically glued to trying to get warm, and she had no seat -- offering to go get her one myself, she said she was OK, and promptly left. I went walking and talking for a while myself, and upon returning to the camp-fire, I saw her with a seat (one that wasn't there before) talking to someone else -- this told me Plan A would not be occurring, so I moved on to the far more plausible (and, in the end, far more desirable) Plan B.

 'Expectations: Ditch the Motherfuckers'

Finally! Some common sense! We're moving on—how lovely :P  Lisa then became the focal point for me that evening. This was a good thing because I hadn't had much contact with her and there was more chance of anything fruitful happening here; but, it was also a bad thing (from my own moral standpoint) because of the motive—right thing, wrong reasons. Off I went to hang with Lisa. We talked more and more, chatting every now and again. She was usually first to speak, continuing the 'unprovoked' trend—unusual, but helpful nonetheless.

Sally, however, was not yet out of the picture. I might have lost interest, so to speak, but there was still once final event yet to occur that would further serve to fuck with my head. Skip to about 3 am: I've just been dancing with Lisa and a few others, for only a short while—the ten minutes of this ten hour event that I actually enjoyed have just run their course. I headed back to the campfire to warm myself once again:

Unfortunately, after such a high point, things were only going to get worse from there on in, and mood took a major dive as I returned to the camp-fire to see Sally still warming herself. I took the (only) spare seat next to her, and looked at her. She looked down... really down...

"Hello, Sally. How are you?"

"I'm alright... how are you?"

"I'm OK... ... ...you don't look like you're having very much fun."

"That's because I'm not."

 'Expectations: Ditch the Motherfuckers'

There it was, straight out of her own fucking mouth: she wasn't enjoying herself. She wasn't having the fun I imagined her having, in any way, shape, or form. What she was doing was sitting there, freezing cold, bored, and unhappy.

Even now, I can assert I spoke to Sally out of genuine concern for how she was:

This cut deep, deep in to my heart and soul -- not because Sally wasn't dancing in my arms, or putting her hand down my pants, but because I knew exactly how she was feeling: she felt like shit. It was pure, unadulterated empathy: I knew how bad I felt, and both the look on her face and words out of her mouth framed perfectly that feeling.

Expectations: Ditch the Motherfuckers

-and by this stage, I seem to have come to most of my senses (even though I lost 'em all again within a month or two :P). I asked Sally how she was because I wanted to know how she was; there was no ulterior motive. Some may call bullshit (even I did for a while, reading over this and comparing this part to all the dodgy stuff :P), but it isn't. Not even someone as socially disconnected as me is dumb enough to try and worm his way into a girl's pants when she's evidently hardly in the mood to even be spoken to :P

That morning, having had no sleep (because I failed to bring a sleeping bag or warm clothes, even when I knew this was going to be an overnight event held in a rural area :P), I woke up wanting nothing more than to go to sleep in an actual bed. Impatiently waiting for my lift to decide to go home, I looked over one last time at the tent area to see Sally and her friends sitting around. Still, there was no smile—she probably wanted to go home just as badly as I did.

Looking back on the Formal and after-party, it's almost frightening to combine all my observations of Sally's mood that evening:

Even if I wasn't sick, I probably wouldn't have budged anyhow—she didn't exactly look to enthralled, even though I couldn't see her face. I mean, sitting alone with a drink? On your Formal night? While music's blasting away, and your friends are dancing or having photos taken?

The look on her face was unusually sterile -- she didn't look like she was anticipating much, almost as though she'd been forced or coaxed in to attending...

Sally walked past a number of times, as if she was aimlessly walking around looking for someone to talk to or something to do, still with that blank expression on her face... this wasn't the Sally I'd fantasised about; she wasn't in to it, at all.

I looked at her as he [said her name out loud within earshot]; she didn't even turn her head.

She looked down... really down... 

"...you don't look like you're having very much fun." 

"That's because I'm not."

Noticing a trend? :P  I didn't see Sally happy once; not once. Sure, she was smiling in the photos, but everyone smiles in photos :P  Besides, even if she did enjoy the Formal initially, it could have been each instance of seeing me or being around me that made her unhappy.

Remember that friend I hung out in the library with? She knew about my desire for Sally. My desire to ask her out, dance with her, fuck her—all of it—was confided in her. I can trust her to keep a secret, but this was discussed out loud, vocally. People overhear things like this; and I know the guy who drove me to the after-party knew 'cause I fucking told him! For all I know, Sally knew before she even got to the Formal that I wanted to hook up with her, and was uncomfortable at the very thought that, at any moment, I could come up to her and start making advances which she'd have had to deal with on the spot.

For all I know, my expressed desire is the only reason why Sally did not enjoy herself on an evening that should have been much, much better for her.

Now, you might not agree, but for me, that's a pretty overbearing thought right there :P  No, the Formal and after-party are not necessarily life-changing, socially important, critical moments or events in the lives of most people—most motherfuckers are going to attend a thousand identical parties :P—but, it's still the last time you spend with a bunch of people you've grown to know and befriend over six years. I'm fairly sure the goal is to enjoy it, not sit around worrying about some guy listening to his dick a little too hard :P  It's not exactly a comforting thought when you realise that you may have single-handedly ruined someone's evening by doing little more than saying you wanted to ask them to the Formal, be their date, and lose your virginity with them. You don't have to do much thinking to come to the conclusion that this is, quite clearly, one fucked up situation :P  I can't fathom exactly how she might have found out about this, and it could have been any combination of issues bugging her at the time, but my lone responsibility is far from implausible. For every inch of doubt in the theory's truth, there's an inch of fear of its potential truth right beside it. 

As for the blog entries themselves (the fantastical one and the Formal/after-party one), both entries were published before I got Facebook—my blog was under the radar in every sense of the word. A week later, this was no longer true; a link to this blog sat at the bottom of my newly created Facebook profile. I know at least one person had read it by the start of the HSC as they told me they'd read it. According to the data, at least 47 other people have read the Formal/after-party post and at least 28 have read the fantastical post. I can't be sure if those figures count those who simply visited the root domain, where the Formal/after-party post sat at the top for quite some time, the fantastical post not far below it (not to mention linked within the former :P). This wasn't such an issue when the blog wasn't linked to on Facebook, but I decided to add that link to my profile, putting it there intentionally, all the while knowing what was there to be read. That was an unenlightened decision that out-derps almost all the derpy shit I've done in my eighteen years on this planet :P

"This happened ages ago—just drop it."

Getting all this off my chest and out of the way is how I'm dropping it. I have better shit to do than ponder over how much of a cunt I am for any longer than I already have :P 

"You already risked making Sally uncomfortable by publishing this shit before; why would you do that again?" 

The information's already out there—there's little danger in republishing information that's already been made available to those it posed a danger to in the first place, especially when they probably already know :P  I needed the quotations from the original text to make my point clear, no matter how grotesque or discomforting.

The issue here is not that I talked about my own sexuality, my own desires, or my own thoughts of any nature—I can do that to my heart's content, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Don't cry foul because you were offended at the top and stopped reading at the bottom; that's your fault, not mine :P  The issue here is the way in which these thoughts were discussed; the fact that I published said thoughts and desires with clear indication as to who they were in relation to, in clear view to those people and those who know them. It breached people's personal space, and might have made them feel just a little uneasy :P  Added to this, of course, is the possibility that Sally could have known some, or all, of this stuff before the Formal arrived, due to my failure to properly conceal my thoughts—that goes beyond making someone feel 'uneasy' :P

Lisa, mentioned in the vacation entries, was apologised to little more than a month before the publishing of this entry. Having her number, I opted to make a phone call, seeing more integrity in a verbal apology as opposed to a written one, but she opted to talk via Facebook. I have no such luxury with Sally whatsoever: I don't have her phone number anymore, nor her email; we aren't friends on Facebook; and, even if I did have access to such contact details, I can't even be sure if I'm correct in saying that she's aware of any of this to any particular extent. Apologising may only serve to bring it to her attention, which is somewhat counter-productive :P  I don't know what she knew about my intentions before the Formal, I don't know what she's read that pertains to those intentions, and I'll probably never really know if she's read through this wall of text or not.

In all honesty, if Sally needs to read anything, it's only what's written below.

Sally, I apologise for leaving published the entries in which you were discussed, and for publicly expressing intentions to try and get involved with you, sexually or otherwise. It wasn't right of me to risk letting you think the entire time that I'd try to make a move on you, even if it only slipped out in a passive manner; nor was it right to give people close to you direct access to these thoughts when they could very well have made their way to you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or unhappy, but I very may well have with my actions, and I'm sorry if this is the case.

SOPA: New Legislation Takes the Slice out of Life!

Today, the Australian Parliament released details regarding new legislation that has everyone with an appetite talking.

Over the past few years, the Australian federal government has created and developed what was referred to at a press conference held this afternoon as the Stop Ordering Pizza Act, known as SOPA for short. This act, according to the documentation, has been created:

"...in response to the now overbearing issue of unhealthy dietary and lifestyle habits that have become far too prevalent in Australian society [today]."

The documentation claims that:

"...these habits are obviously due to the fact that Australians living almost anywhere can order pizza over the phone—and more recently, over the Internet—to have it delivered to their front door, without a scrape of effort on the consumer's part."

Federal investigators have pointed the finger squarely at the businesses who offer such pizza delivery services, claiming that they are the ones responsible for the outbreak in obesity and several other health issues over the last thirty years.

One investigator present today justified these findings by claiming that "...the ever-increasing availability of such services makes Australians more inclined to make use of them, rather than opting for a healthier alternative that may take more time or effort to prepare."

He spoke in favour of "…the ability of government to more strictly regulate participating businesses… [as this] is essential to ensuring a lower average weight, and a higher life expectancy and quality of life in general, for every Australian."

As for the regulations, at the top of the list sits the ability for police at federal, state, or even local level, to issue a legally enforceable 'cease and desist' order to any applicable business, effectively preventing the business from operating.

An 'applicable business' is, according to the documentation: 'any business involved in the manufacturing or distribution of foods, drinks, or other substances deemed extremely detrimental to the human condition'. It has been confirmed that pizza delivery businesses definitely fall under this category.

These orders can be issued if categorised businesses are so much as accused of contributing to the excessive weight-gain of any Australian citizen. No court procedure is required; one complaint could lead to the almost-immediate closure of any pizza restaurant in the country

It was also stated by officials today that the business definition means these new laws will pertain to all pizza restaurants, whether they offer home delivery services or not. 

Several lines of legislation further on give courts the ability to lay down heavy sentences on the employees of any accused pizza restaurant. If taken into custody, any manager, chef, cook, or janitor could be charged with wounding, injury, and/or inflicting grievous bodily harm. Should the victim be deceased, these extend as far as manslaughter and negligent homicide, all the way to first degree murder.

Whilst pizza restaurant employees have claimed these laws to be "extreme and vicious in nature", one official said today that "…although these new laws may seem outlandish in nature, with this legislation's enforcement will come measures that ensure justice for Australians on both sides of the proverbial scale."
 

Could this mean the end of the humble pizza pie in Australia?

Pizza restaurants aren't the only ones making their concern vocal. Snack food manufacturers (including Arnotts, Cadbury, Nestle, and Allens), along with other businesses, are also openly criticising the act.

Their primary focus is the lack of a clear definition of what businesses are affected by these new laws should they be enacted. Said a representative from one snack food manufacturer:

"What classifies as a 'substance deemed detrimental to the human condition'? We have no idea, and neither do they, it seems. If they're gonna take this on some kind of 'I know it when I see it' basis, we could be in big trouble, and we don't even do pizza."

Not far down the list also sit powers to the freeze bank accounts of both the accused business and its employees. Whilst these have been claimed to '…stop the business and its employees from funding further criminal activity', scrutiny from one affected businesses cited this power to be an example of the "overly interfering and intrusive nature [of the legislation]."

The proposed legislation is not, however, without supporters. Associations including Obesity Prevention Australia, Diabetes Australia, and The Heart Foundation strongly claim that the legislation is "vital to help Australians realise their full potential in leading healthy, active lifestyles."

It has been claimed that fruit and vegetable suppliers, as well as health food manufacturers, have been buying the support of these groups to promote their own agenda and eliminate competition in the marketplace. Representatives from all three of the organisations listed above stated that these claims are "wild", "ludicrous", "anticompetitive" and "without evidence."

In response to claims of the "formation of a police state" from one journalist, one official defended the government plans by stating that "giving police these new powers is extremely necessary, as our research has concluded that Australians are too stupid and irresponsible to be held liable for their poor dietary and lifestyle habits any longer."

Leaks from whistleblowers around the country have assisted in the circulation of rumours claiming that similar legislation pertaining to other industries is also under development.

The most popular theories claim there to be legislation that will:

• make car manufacturers legally responsible for all automobile accidents. 
• make alcohol manufacturers responsible for all incidents of intoxication
• make firearms (no, not firearm manufacturers, the guns themselves) legally responsible for all incidents of ballistic trauma.

One anonymous tipster, a member of Hillsong Church, claims there to be evidence for the development legislation that would give authorities the ability to make God Himself responsible for any and all legal and ethical breaches across the country, seeing as He is responsible for the creation of absolutely everything (according to Christian scripture).

God, when asked about this matter, did not offer to comment.

by Liam McCann

YouTube Update: Stuff You; I'd Rather Not Do What You Tell Me.

Fuck you! I won't do what you tell me, motherfucker!

Zack de la Rocha, Rage Against the Machine

Ah, that's more like it :)

Having said that, however, I'm going to ask that you do not interpret the following entry as being disregarding of your opinions and desires as far as my YouTube channel goes. I have an audience, and if I wish to maintain that audience (which I do), then it is my duty to appease them -- that's just how it works with being a content creator. The thing with my YouTube channel, however, is that it does not revolve around the audience. I don't create content solely because other people enjoy it; I produce it because I like producing it, and because (hypothetically) you like watching it. I don't produce content that isn't enjoyable to produce -- forcing yourself to do something you don't want to do just because someone else wants you to (when it comes to producing content, at least) is inane. This is why there is no schedule, no plan, no structure, and no consistency: I make videos when I want and how I want, and I make them about whatever I want. The userbase seems to like what I put out, so it's a win for both parties; but content is never made with me thinking "ooohh! They'll just love this!" Don't bullshit yourself; I don't think like that. Yes, I make stuff my audience will presumably like (hence why I mainly publish LBP videos: because that's why most subscribers subscribed in the first place :P) but I will not go out of my way to suck dicks and fondle balls just because people ask.

When it comes to people making demands, it pisses me off to no end. Requests are fine, demands are not; and there is a clear-cut difference. A request is polite, reasonable, and optional; a demand is (in this context) rude, ridiculous, and seemingly mandatory, at least to the demander. I can deal with people requesting levels and ideas (hence why the facets that allow you to do so are made available), but when I get comments like this:



-followed by comments like this:





-it annoys me that both parties ask for the same thing, yet to appease the polite one is to appease both. People who ask for things as impolitely as that don't deserve what they want as far as I'm concerned, especially when they're getting it for free, on my time. It's just ungrateful. I know not everyone is greedy like that, and that those people may not even be like that all the time; but when they are, it's clear cut in my mind that they're being completely unreasonable.

When it comes to what content goes on my channel, here's how things work:

Someone suggests a quality, original level?
If I have the time, I record and upload it.

I have issues I want to get off my chest, and don't want to type?
I record a random game, and throw my thoughts over the top.

I'm going to perform a new stand-up segment somewhere?
I try to get someone to film it for me, and I upload it.

I think of an idea for a video that doesn't fit the above three criteria?
If I have the time and resources, I try it out.

That's it.

That is the extent to which my YouTube channel operates in terms of planning and development. It doesn't stretch an inch beyond what's written above, and it probably never will.

LittleBigShow, which I began making episodes for about a year and a half ago, was the result of that last item in the itinerary. It began well enough, with positive reception being received due to the combining of my voice (which people like for some reason >.>) and the gaming content: three level previews combined in to one video, rather than a single level playthrough. Sure, there was a "Previews" and "Reviews" section, but when you get right down to it, it was just three levels being showcased, with their qualities highlighted for all to see. There haven't been any episodes since April this year, with the latest episode being featured on my channel since its release, giving the false hope of more episodes to come. There are two reasons why there haven't been more episodes; they are:

1: I haven't had the time to work on the show.

Now, however, my schedule is far less busy, and probably won't be as busy as it was before for a long time. "Why, then, are there still no episodes?", you may ask.

2: I don't like making the show.

I used to like making the show -- I loved the recording, the writing, the editing, all of it -- but it soon became a tedium, one I grew tired of very quickly. I had to adhere to a schedule of one episode a month (which was originally going to be one a week -- get fuckin' real :P), which just became annoying, as I hate working for deadlines. I had to go through a whole slew of levels just to get the good ones (this was before LBP.me, however, whose reviews and comments sections would have reduce the workload significantly). The most prevalent dislike I have for the show, however, is its inefficency in doing its job, which was to highlight hidden gems in the LBP community. Yes, it did do its job, but with no efficiency boost on my end. Sure, it would be quicker for you guys, because you get three levels in one video; but for me came the tasks of gathering and organising suggestions, writing scripts and dot points, recording voice-overs (which took multiple takes due to their scripted nature), and an arduous editing process for something that only ended up running for five minutes. The effort simply isn't worth the return.

Put it this way: it would be far quicker for me to simply record three levels, edit them separately (a process which involves nothing more than importing, clipping, and a few nips and tucks), encode them separately, and upload them over a period of time, than it would for me to make LBS. It's just quicker! If you want my opinion of the level, I leave a snippet in the description -- always have, always will. That's another thing I disliked about the show: I told you what I thought of the level. Who gives a flying fuck what I think of the level? It's your opinion of the level that matters, not mine! If you think it looks good, you'll go and play it, regardless of what I think or say! There isn't even a point to the voice-over -- as I said (and I'm not being conceited; people have said this to me on YouTube, more than just a few times) people just liked listening to me speak. If there's no substance or worth in the words, there's no point in speaking them.

-but I liked LittleBigShow!

Your prayers have been answered (for a number of months now, in fact :P).

LittleBigPicks has been operating since June of this year, and they've already produced nine episodes of their program, in the form of both levels in LittleBigPlanet 2, and YouTube videos (which are essentially recordings of the levels they make for their show). I am not affiliated with the group behind the content -- I actually hadn't really investigated them until earlier this week -- but, from watching their work, it's presented beautifully and professionally, and has voice work, if you just have to hear someone talk :P  It's done by a team of at least two players (the hosts of the show), and the format is similar to LBS, but different in ways that make their show more engaging and engrossing. Their show is longer, and the hosts build their own set to use in-game -- it's essentially machinima. They not only feature levels, but do other cool stuff as well from time to time -- they recently had an interview with steve_big_guns, so they're evidently being noted for their talents, and getting attention they wholeheartedly deserve. These guys are doing great work, and are featuring incredible levels, so if you want something like LittleBigShow, this is where you should go. It will make LBS seem like child's play :P

As for what I'll be doing on my channel, I've been watching a few Let's Play channels (namely NintendoCapriSun), and thought I could give that a shot once my computer's fixed. Before really watching an LP, I was like "man, what the fuck is the point of watching someone play an entire game, start to finish!? Would that not be the most boring shit ever!?" Well, no, it's not the most boring shit ever, provided you've got a good commentator at the helm; a bad one fucking ruins it (I'll probably do an entry on the LP 'culture', because finding a good LPer is like finding a needle in a haystack coated in shit :P). I'm not saying I could do any better (hence why I'd only be willing to try it out without making any commitments), but if people like watching me play games, and listening to me talk, this is the fastest way I can provide you with a video combining those elements.

I'm not sure what game I'll do though. I am not doing LittleBigPlanet (the acing videos are practically an LP if you string them all together :P), nor do I want to do any game that's been done a million times (Super Mario 64, Ocarina of Time, etc). I'd love to do Donkey Kong 64, as I love that game and know my way around it fairly well, but I only have an emulated version, which is a little glitchy -- I'd rather do it on a real Nintendo 64 (which I will be buying :D). I could do Ratchet and Clank as well, and for now, that seems to be what I'll be doing if I decide to try it out. It's a short enough game to do, but isn't so short that it'll be over before you know it. DK64 is a damn long game, so it'd be better to do if I know it'll be worth doing; I don't want to quit halfway through (hate leaving projects unfinished).

As for my computer, I've found a place that might be able to diagnose (or better yet, fix) the machine, but as it's the Christmas break, the place won't be available for a few days, and I also have to find transport for the box to the place and back (I don't have a license, and I sure as fuck can't walk 30 minutes in to/back from town with this mammoth under my shoulder :P). I can't tell you when it'll be fixed (I may have to purchase replacement parts, which I don't have money for at the moment), but progress has been made to some extent.

Don't jump to dumb conclusions either -- I won't stop making LBP 2 videos, and I'll resume recording levels once my PC is back up and running. For the meantime, I've got another couple of levels in the vaults that (with any luck :P) I can encode and upload (provided the machine doesn't explode).

You're free to leave your thoughts on the subject here, or on my YouTube channel, or any one of my videos. I read and appreciate all feedback :)

Sick: I'm Sick of Being It (Sick, That is)

"Have you ever been sick for such a long time that you've actually forgotten what it feels like not to be sick? Sick is your default; 'tis your norm. You are sick."

Me

Quoting myself? You bet! I'm just that arrogant ;D

I am also, however, sick as a very sick dog. I'm not just "sick as a dog", because your average dog is almost completely healthy -- I'm waysicker than your average fuckin' dog :P

It always plays out the same for me:

Day 1: Abnormally high amount of phlegm in my throat. Day continues as normal.
Night 1: As I try to sleep (the gunk in my throat prevents this from actually happening), I feel my throat getting progressively sorer and more irritable.

Day 2: I wake up to feel my throat being gang-raped by every liquid in my body -- it burns like a Nazi bonfire.
Night 2: Due to the gunk invasion, sleep is nigh impossible until I completely run out of energy.

Day 3: Throat no longer burns, but sinuses are completely blocked -- I feel as though I'm lucky not to be drowning in a river of mucus.
Night 3: Sleep is a little easier, but the headache caused by the blocked sinuses (and not aided by the hours of Crash Bandicoot and Perfect Dark >.<) prevents true slumber comfort.

Everyday after that for the next two weeks sees the disease slowly remove itself from my body -- evacuation time is cut in half with some antibiotics. As much as I hate relying on them, I suppose I have to -- my natural immune system is probably some guy standing at the tip of my oesophagus armed with nothing but a garden shovel (a cheap one, too), perpetually scared out of his weak little mind.

I hate getting sick, though! I hate hate hate it! All day long, I have this burning desire to rip my own head off, get a toothpick, and rummage around every nook and cranny to remove any trace of goo and icky stuff. I don't like feeling as though my head is trapped in a fucking vice! At least if my balls are in a vice, they're never there for long -- this lasts days, and days, and days... not to mention I still have to live life as though nothing is wrong! Where's the quilt nestled tightly against my tummy to keep me warm? Where's my chocolate ice-cream and Demazin to keep me alive? Where's my Daria box-set to keep me entertained (I don't actually have that anyway... I want it though!)? Nowhere: that's where. Nowhere. Every morning, I have to wake up, accept the fact I'm an adult, and go to school, so I can give this bug to everyone in my fucking cohort, wanting to kill anyone who speaks louder than a whisper.

What pisses me off the most is that, as a performer, me getting sick = me getting a chainsaw and amputating all my limbs (it's possible if you plan it right). You simply can't perform very well, if at all, when you're sick. A little honey might kill the frog in the throat, and some painkillers relieve temporarily the headache, but the gunk ain't goin' nowhere no time soon, so you look and sound sick anyway! Thankfully, I don't have to perform for two weeks, but if I'm still sick when that day comes, I am sweet outta luck and jolly well fucked. Can you imagine doing ten minutes of non-stop talking and moving with a cold? You can? OK... try *thirty-five* minutes. That's what I'm up against in just over two weeks time: a half-an-hour extravaganza of potential comedy; and doing that with a cold simply ain't gonna be cool.

I've always wondered: "what would happen if I simply took all the antibiotics here and now? All twenty-four of 'em, down my gob in a jiffy... surely, the disease wouldn't stand a chance!" Well, I don't study biology (or any science, for that matter), but I'm pretty sure that'd fuck you up even worse than before :P  The antibiotics would eradicate the disease pretty damn quick, but all the antibiotics that didn't die in the epic battle would still be all pent up -- they didn't get to kill anything! They'd go ape-shit on my innards, releasing their rage by bashing and stabbing any organ or tissue they could find! You think having your throat gang-raped sucks? How about having your liver gang-raped; or your stomach; or your skin; or your brain!? That doesn't sound too good to me! Fuck that shit, man!

Ideas: The Crazy, Albiet Reasonable Things You Wanna Do, and Therefore Should Do

"I got a lot of good ideas -- trouble is, most of 'em suck."

George Carlin

Do you sometimes have ideas that you think are really out there and perhaps even beyond realisation, but just might fuckin' work? I got a few... like not putting all your end-of-year exams at the end of the goddamned year! Maybe we'd like some space in there to... study! System wants me to do well? System can be reasonable for once, and maybe System will get what System wants! And what's up with testing me on shit I've already been tested on? That's what most end-of-year tests are: all-encompassing tests that examine you on everything you learned that year... do you even remember half the shit you learned this year? Well, I suppose you've managed to remember everything you've learned this year -- if you haven't remembered it, you haven't learned it :P  The thing is, I can't understand what the topic test was for if I'm just gonna get examined again on that very same topic in a few months time! If I really need that knowledge for anything I do in the future, I'll take in on myself to learn it in preparation, rather than getting it all back in my head for the sake of repeated analysis by the State.

I got a sorta messed up idea too; it's disgusting, but it's got potential! See, my eating habits are fucked up, and I mean fucked up. I have no allergies and no medical conditions to worry about; my habits are pure, 100% choice. If you think you've seen a fussy eater, you ain't seen shit, son :P  Ladies, would you go out with a guy who eats crackers and custard for dinner? Methinks not :P  This idea would need me a stroke of luck to find a more-than-willing participant, but it would eliminate the need for me to ask that question ever again. First, I'd have to meet a girl whose answer to that question is something along the lines of "of course!" or "why not?" The problem is that any girl would change their answer to that question pretty quickly upon experiencing my eating habits and the self-imposed restrictions that come with them. This is where the second part comes in: I call it "The Transitional Stage." Basically, we get the relationship to a point where we're happy to make out ("lips and tongue" is one of my all-time favourite dishes :P). At this point, I tell her my idea in full. What happens is: she gets something to eat that I haven't tried before, she takes a bite, chews it up a bit... then we let our tongues dance together for a good ten, maybe fifteen seconds, at least until a good portion of the food is in my mouth, so I can taste it! It's win-win: she gets a boyfriend who isn't a total pain in the arse to go out with, and I get to make out! How isn't this an awesome idea!?

In all seriousness though, I actually have an idea I'd like to see brought to life; and I've already got pretty much everything I need. You know how at the mall, and in other public places, you've got kids walking around with iPods, DS's, PSP's, mobile phones; all that shit? I'm old school; I need me some split-screen action! Here's what I want to do: I have a small 21" (~50cm) LCD TV that will fit in a bag, an old laptop with a bunch of emulators on it (NES, SNES, N64, PS1, etc), and two PS3 controllers that will work on the laptop with special drivers. I take the TV and the laptop in to a public place (most likely a mall), set the TV and laptop up near a power-point (and out of people's way), get friend(s) to donate another two controllers, and set up a small 4-player retro rig for anyone who wants to join in! If you saw Mario Kart 64 and a spare controller at the mall, wouldn't you stop by and play a bit? And how awesome would some Goldeneye be!? It'd be a blast! We might get kicked out, but so long as we're not too loud, and we keep out of people's way, what's the fuckin' problem with this? Stealing their power, am I? This equipment wouldn't suck up anymore than $1 worth of juice in the space of an hour, if that. I'll chuck 'em a coin and tell 'em to lighten up :P

Security is a bit of an issue, although not so much with the TV and laptop, as they're both heaps of shit that only serve to get the job done, not to mention their weight -- you'd be better off robbing one of the surrounding department stores :P  It's the PS3 controllers I'm worried about, as they don't have the cable attached at the controller end. Someone could simply yank the micro-USB out and run off with $100 worth of equipment; three people do that, and I'm $300 in the hole (and at least one of those controllers wouldn't have been mine :P). If I got PS2 controllers and a few USB adapters, I could simply tie the cables around a table leg or something to make it virtually impossible to surreptitiously steal the equipment intact -- you'd have to cut the cable to get the controller (and who steals PS2 controllers anyway? Yeesh :P) It might cost me some money, but I think it'd totally be worth it; and if I can find somewhere to do it, I'll fuckin' do it :P

...hopefully, this future girlfriend of mine is a bit kinky; that way, her mouth won't be the only place I could eat out :P

Grace: It Would Never Have Perished if It Weren't for You Meddling Kids!

"Children: can't live with 'em, can't live with 'em! Can't you see that!?" 

Robin Williams (or whoever he stole the material from >.>)

Truer words were never spoken. Ever. :P

I have never been a fan of anyone between the ages of 7 and 13 with access to the internet. The demographic carries with it the misfortune of being represented, at least in part, by verbally impotent, intellectually deficient loudmouths with no sign of respect and no thought to spare. I'm well aware of the fact that kids need to learn that it's polite not to be a total douchebag when talking to someone -- that's just part of growing up -- but doesn't that shit happen when they're, like, 5? 6, maybe? I know I was taught that shit way before I got my hands on a keyboard and mouse, and I was roughly the same age when internet access first came in to our house. Of course, everyone outside of the demo is slightly to blame, with kids being exposed to this and being led to believe it's a totally appropriate way to talk to someone you just met; but sometimes, you just know the kid's a total dick, and I've had one of those incidents recently.

Keep in mind that I used to be a pretty hot-headed person, and would go off at the first sight of idiocy or ignorance, irrespective of the guilty party's age. I soon realised that this was a rather extreme way to act, and while I still cringe and curse when I see people asking dumbarse questions in YouTube comments or personal messages that Google could answer in a godforsaken millisecond, the cursing is only heard by the walls in my house -- now, I simply tell them to "look it up" without going apeshit. There was this one kid this week who sent me 4 or 5 PM's on YouTube asking "where do you get [sticker]", "where do you get the tool bag for create mode", "where do you get the clank level i have the game of the year edition and i cant find it". It's not the absence of spelling or grammar that gets me; it's the fact that research skills are seemingly lacking in today's young. I doubt it was this bad before computers -- I betcha anything that kids back then weren't this empty up top. They knew: wanna know what a word means? Dictionary. Wanna know other words for that word? Thesaurus. Wanna know the capital of the Dominican Republic? Atlas. Wanna speed this shit up and get with the times? Google. That, however, is pretty excusable; what I'm about to recite is not :P

Somebody sent me a friend request on the PSN: "I want to be your friend" or something to that effect was in the message. Absolutely nothing wrong with that, I get those from time to time, but I don't add anyone on the PSN. I don't really care if he knew or not, and there's nothing to be angry about, so I just tell him what I tell everyone else who sends me a friend request on the PSN:

"I don't add anyone on the PSN, sorry."

That is word for word what I send as a reply to anyone who sends me a friend request and is nice enough to write something in the message space (empty friend requests are just sad -- at this point, the kid is in my good books). His reply:

"i'm ur fan and you say this to me"

...yes, I do say this to him, and to everyone else who sends me a request. I don't owe him anything -- I have fun making videos and getting some attention, he gets free entertainment. It's a more-than-reasonable exchange. No need to bring that shit up with him though; I'll just explain my response:

"i say this to everyone who wants to add me -- i can't add everyone who asks, and i don't have the time to play with you, so there's no point in me adding you"

Seriously: there isn't. I'm on rarely as it is, and when I am online, I opt to play alone more often than not. His reply:

"then why did you add luisbravo1?"

Perfectly reasonable question, deserving of an answer:

"that was years ago back when I wasn't busy, and it was to make a video with him"

His reply:

"please add me Bludgaboy i want a friend that is cool. just plz add me i'm begging u :("

...a-a-a-and here's where it all starts going downhill :P  This implies that any existing friends this kid has are, in his eyes, not cool. How rude is that, man!? Kids say shit like this all the time, but wow! Gotta end this quickly:

"why should i add you and no one else that asks? that's not fair. please just accept the fact"

This is part of my reasoning behind my decision not to add anyone, regardless of who they are: one stranger gets rejected because there's no point in me adding them, so does everyone else. If I pick and choose which random friend requests to accept and reject, it'll just serve to piss the rejected ones off. This way, it's nothing personal.

He left me alone for about a week, then sent me this cavalcade of irritation:

"Plz add me Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz Plz"

For those of you too lazy to count: 32 instances of the abbreviation collaborated on that project. What does copy/pasting "plz" go to show (they wouldn't all be capital P's if he didn't copy/paste... or at least tried to cover his tracks :P)? It's just silly, right?

"you can beg all you like, it's only making you look immature"

Harsh, but true. His reply:

"its not fair to be friends with venemo X luisbravo1 and everyone else"

1st: I am not friends with "everyone else" -- way to exaggerate :P

2nd: How is it not fair to be friends with Persons A and B, and not Person C? Maybe I don't like Person C! I am under no obligation to be friends with everyone who talks to me! If this is true, then one of two things is true: either I have to be friends with everyone, or have no friends at all!

3rd: Much like Luis, I added VenemoX a while back, and we knew each other on YouTube ever farther back. We were actual friends, so I added him (or him me, whatever :P). I've said this before, and I'll say it again: someone you know being in a "friends list" does not mean they are your friend. Also, I'm not friends with Luis; more of an acquaintance. We never speak to each other; how does that constitute friendship?

Kids think a "friend" is just someone they know, and I'm not gonna fuck with the kid's head for the sake of a label correction, so once again, I just tried to get this over with once and for all:

"i added those people *years* ago, before i stopped adding people. i have hardly any other people on the PSN i'm friends with. please, *please* stop this, or i'll just block you"

A-a-a-and now, the moment you've all been waiting for:

"f*** u"

WOAH WOAH WOAH Woah woah! F*** me? F*** me!? Hot diggity damn -- someone's gonna f*** me! Come on, people -- if you're gonna get down and dirty with the English language, at least have the balls to say the word rather than letting a bunch of asterisks do the work for ya :P

"calm down, grow up, and get over it, dude. i wouldn't want someone so rude and immature in my friends list even if i *did* add people"

Note how I'm yet to crack? No need to: he already has :P

"shut up u fuckin ass hole ADD ME!"

No "f*** me"? Is that girl still up for it? I know I am... *drools*. Anyways, enough perversion. Apart from the fact that "ass hole" is one word and not two, do you notice anything else wrong with this message? Anything at all? I sorta noticed something, might not actually be something, but, um... see how he called me a "fuckin ass hole"... then, right next to that, he demands that I add him? Do you get that? I don't.

I don't add people because I don't want to be obliged to add every single person who asks; I also don't add people so I can avoid future contact with anyone like this :P

EDIT:

"i dont want to be in your vids i just want to add u"

-and I just want this kid to get the message, but it would appear no-one's getting what they want. I don't think there's any hope with this kid. Just send his resume to Taco Bell and get him the fuck away from the PlayStation :P

EDIT 2:

More kids sending me friend requests? Yes, more kids sending me friend requests.

Some other kid kept asking me to be his friend and sent me a friend request every time I rejected the previous one. Eventually, he asked me to give him DLC; all became crystal clear from that point onwards :P  Go buy your own DLC, stingy prick.

I had another kid send me a friend request just saying "add me", which I responded to in the same way I always do. Logged on this morning to find another "please please please please please" marathon. Kudos for using the full word rather than the contracted version, but it doesn't give you that much credit :P