Three & Easy

I was going to write another post but I got tagged so even though I don't respond to taggings I decided that this was easier than the post I had in mind. So without further ado let me begin.....

Three things that scare me:

The human race....every last one of you is a
scary bugger. Do you know what you are capable of? No? Don't find out, I don't ever want to know.

Flying in an aircraft with only one pilot. Think about it, people die all the time, you don't want to be up in the air when the only person that knows how to get you safely on land again has just croaked.

Karma. I should be a better person, but I can't help it, its so much more fun being bad.

Three people who make me laugh:

John Cleese.

Billy Connolly.

Random people, and the stupid things they say and do.

Three things I love:

Standing on the top of a mountain, feeling like just a small part of the universe. God I'm such a hippy, I don't know why I don't just grow my hair long and surrender to it fully.

Orgasms. Hers, mine, I'm not fussy. Oh, you were paying attention?

That smile that says she likes me, nay, she loves me. It's been a while.

Three things I hate:

"You have been placed in a queue but your call is important to us...."

Stupid, racist, close-minded, cunts. I think that say it all.

Sigur Ros CD's.

Three things I don't understand:

People who regularly go to to tanning salons. You're Scottish, you aren't supposed to tan. Deal with the fact that you aren't meant to look like a walking, talking orange.

Why women wear the most uncomfortable shoes they can find, and love them. Don't get me wrong I like what a five inch heel does to the shape of a woman's calf muscle but there is no good reason that I can think of if I had been born a woman that I would want to wear and walk in such a contraption.

The difference between the people who hear God speak to them and spend their time in a mental institution and others who hear God but who get their own slot on television complete with premium rate phone number and access to the life savings of old people who have more money than sense.

Three things on my desk:

Food.

Books.

CD's.

Three things I'm doing now:

Listening to music. No change there then

Eating lunch.

Duh! Writing this.

Three things I want to do before I die:

Travel the world in a hot air balloon. Preferably without getting shot down whilst flying over a warzone. But if it adds excitement......

Ride a Harley. Without killing anyone or get beaten up by a beer bellied, hairy arsed biker.

Go into a book shop with buying half the store. It might sound simple to you but you have no idea......

Three things I can do:

Make a mean Spaghetti Bolognese. But then its not really hard. Shut up.

Procrastinate Now that, I'm an expert at.

Fuck off, that will do you are making me think too hard.

Three things I can't do:

Dance. I have no rhythm.

Sing. But it's OK, I know this and never wanted to anyway.

Lick my own elbow. If you can do this you aren't human, you are a freak.


Three things I think you should listen to:

Birds singing in the morning and late evening. Forget the pointless stress of modern living, listen, chill, find your zen.

My mother. Even if it's only to say afterwards "I told you I shouldn't have listened to you!"

Aqueous Transmission by Incubus. Just don't listen to it whilst driving at 5 am. You have been warned.

Three things you should never listen to:

Politicians. They are either boring or down right dangerous, or both. Ignore them all.

Advice from people who are even more messed up than I am. Enough said.

Back seat drivers. Especially those who have never sat behind the steering wheel in their life.

Three things I'd like to learn:

To dance the salsa or tango with a beautiful woman. Not just any beautiful woman, my beautiful woman, not some dance teacher that I am paying too much of my hard earned money too. I'm greedy dammit, I want it all.

Why I learnt algebra at school for over 2 years only to never use when I left. I can't think of one instance since then where I have said "Let X = ......"

Why the nutter's on the bus or train always sit beside me. Second thoughts, I don't want to know.

Three favourite foods:

Shellfish. Not a big fish eater but I like my prawns, crab, lobsters etc. I don't understand it either.

My mothers homemade soup. It's good!

Pasta. It could be macaroni or Spaghetti, I don't care just give me some.

Three beverages I regularly drink:

Irn Bru. Betraying my West of Scotland roots.

Pineapple Juice. I like pineapples for no good reason

Milk. Only semi-skimmed. Full fat cream makes me sick. Don't know why.

.....

Three television programs I watched as a child:

The Incredible Hulk - It was the theme tune. I would watch the whole program on a weekly basis just for theme tune at the beginning and end of the show. I was a weird child.

The Littliest Hobo. Again it was the theme tune and the fact that I was a sucker for lost dogs that helped random strangers for no good reason other than it was the right thing to do.

Speedy Gonzales. Now how could you not like the fastest mouse in all of Mexico? I mean really! "Arriba! Arriba!

I'm not mean enough to nominate anyone for a tagging, besides with my irregular posts over the last 11 weeks or so, it's likely I only have 2 readers left.

Music Is My Hot, Hot Sex

I'm finally home to stay after 11 weeks away and despite the fact that I have over 11000 songs on my computer I feel the need for new music so I thought we could play a game. I'll tell you what I'm listening to and you share what you are listening to and maybe we'll both benefit. Just play the game!

Vashti Bunyan - British folk singer that brings out a new album every 35 years, next album is due out in 2040. Until then you can enjoy two albums, the lyrics may be a little sickly sweet but it doesn't seem to matter when her voice is so hauntingly beautiful.

The Good, The Bad, And The Queen - Damon Albarn of Blur & the Gorillaz must be the hardest working man in the industry.

Jo Mango - Seen her live in Glasgow once, aching to go back see her again if only to listen to My Lung.

The Hedrons - Also from Glasgow, all female rock band.

Cansei De Ser Sexy - Gotta love a band with a name that translates to English as Tired Of Being Sexy. Anyway its a Brazilian electro pop band and its rumoured that they are going to move from Sao Paulo to Glasgow to enable them to crack the European market. Now I love Glasgow and Glasgow does have a good music scene but if I were Brazilian I think I would prefer to spend my days on warm Brazilian beaches, but what do I know....

The Fratellis - I'm sure I've mentioned them before, but i'm still listening so I'm not apologising for mentioning them again.

Shitdisco - Weird name but it works.

Uffie - Looks a little bit like Kate Moss, sounds a little like Peaches if she did electro bubblegum pop.

Beirut - Strange song titles that could sound a little pretentious if the music didn't work so well.

Willy Mason - Can't help playing Oxygen and All You Can Do over and over again. He's like a modern day Bob Dylan with a better singing voice.

Jack Penate - Looks like he belongs to the 50s era but has a more modern sound.

New Young Pony Club - Thanks to the Intel advert I keep playing this band.

Anyway it's late, I've played the game now its your turn.

I was going to add more like The Hazey Janes, The Cinematics, The Draymin, Mr Hudson & The Library, & The Maccabees but that would have made it an odd number of bands so I got lazy and didn't.

Forgive Me Reader It Has Been A Month Since My Last Posting.....

....Push Me Over A Chair And Spank Me.

Damn, did I really just type that?

Anyway moving on, I do have a good excuse for not updating this blog or reading and commenting on others and that is I've only been home 2 days over the past month with this being the second day.

A lot has happened in the past month and quite frankly I don't have the time to address it all so instead I'll just give you a teaser of my oh-so-exciting life by sharing with you just a couple of the more shameful and embarrassing incidents.

First of all let me address the shameful, I, whom you know as Scotsman, has discovered in the last few weeks that I HATE the music of the Icelandic band Sigur Ros. That's hate with a capital H A T E. Up until now I've prided myself on the fact that I haven't really hated anything or anyone. Sure there were moments in my life that I disliked someone with an intense passion but most of the time I'm an easy going kind of guy and so I hadn't really reached a stage where hate was part of my emotional make up. Sadly that is no longer true, in these times of hate and pain I must confess that I too am a hater. The confusing thing is I used to quite like Sigur Ros, granted I did have to be in a certain mood to feel the urge to play it but nonetheless it was music that I used to enjoy. That was until I was forced to live and work with someone who thought that their music was the best thing since sliced bread, and would play the music 20 hours a day every day for 8 (very long) weeks. I even tried going to sleep early to escape the noise, to no avail - you can't escape music when it played as loud as the volume dial will go. The hating of the music got to such extremes over the past few weeks that at my last count I had thought of 37 different ways of destroying the Sigur Ros cd. In truth if I was logical human being I would not have hated the band but the person who inconsiderately selfishly played the band but with hate being an ugly and irrational emotion, its easier to hate when you neither know or understand what you are hating, both of which apply to Sigur Ros. Even when I did like Sigur Ros I couldn't say I understood what they were about.

Now for the embarrassing, for the past three weeks I've been having problems with my derrière, namely its been farting - alot. Now we all release gas from time to time (even those who don't admit to it) but lately my backside seems determined to destroy the ozone layer all on its own. Normally I would admit to my farts and maybe even apologise for them but for the past few weeks the farting has been so frequent and the stench so powerful that I haven't wanted to admit to such behaviour. Luckily for me the farting has been silent and I have been able to walk away from the fart before anyone I was working with at the time was able to put two and two together and point the fingers of blame in my direction. Shameful I know, but don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same.

Anyway after over 3 weeks of seemingly uncontrollable farting I decided I needed to see someone about it so I broke the habit of a lifetime and went to see a doctor, where I heard in an Irish accent "Let me break it to you, your shit's fucked up."
My initial reaction 'My shit's fucked up?', 'Did he just say that?', 'Surely he didn't just say that', 'What happened to the vocabulary and bedside manner of doctors?'

When he then made noises about examining my colon, if after reducing my intake of fruit and vegetables in the next few weeks didn't make any difference to my excessive flatulence, I decided it might well be another while before I set foot in a doctors practice again. What can I say I feel too young to be prodded and poked and well it can only be a matter of time before everything returns to normal, I hope.

Anyway I'm done now, I've confessed my sins - I'm a hater and a serial farter, its time for me to sign out. A week from now I should be back home for good which should mean no more of me being subjected to Sigur Ros and hopefully the flatulence will have ended by then too but even if it hasn't I should at least become a semi regular blog once again.

Romance and Passion and all that

Valentines Day is fast approaching but I won't be here to write a post on the day so instead I'm going to leave you with a task. I've never been that fond of the day, perhaps because I always seem to be single on that day but its more likely down to the fact that I think there is enough room for romance in every day and not just one dictated to us by hallmark. So anyway your task is to highlight a poem, a book, a song, a film or anything really that speaks to you of romance or passion more than chocolates, flowers or a Valentines day card ever could. You can either choose to do so here or in your own blog.

Strawberries by Edwin Morgan

There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air

in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you

let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills

let the storm wash the plates

Sticking With The News Theme

I had hoped that whilst I was living and working in the wilderness that Tony Blair might have done the decent thing and retired by now. But he is clinging on to power and continues to bring the British Government into disrepute. The latest attempt to ingratiate his party with the moral majority is to have offenders serving a community sentence wear recognisable uniforms. Mr Blair last week applauded this idea from the Home Office as "perfectly sensible".

There is no detail yet on the uniform but the chain-gang look would be appropriate. Having to wear one of those big stripy suits would certainly deter some people from doing crime if they actually had to work in the same community in which they did the crime. Manacles would be good, although they might get in the way of cutting grass or sweeping streets or whatever tasks are allotted. Rifle-toting guards, a retired colonel or two, should definitely be on hand to ensure there is no slacking. 6 year old kids should be permitted, nay encouraged, to shout abuse or even throw the occasional piece of rotten fruit or veg at the folk in the stripy suits.

Perhaps the chain-gang theme is just too last-century. Something a bit more subtle, but still instantly recognisable, is required. Something along the lines of a yellow star or a pink triangle. Or even a tattoo as a memento to the offenders for their transgressions.

The concept of recognisable uniforms could be extended to those yet to face trial for their crimes. Presidents and prime ministers who embark on bloody wars that make the world infinitly more unsafe spring to mind. I am sure there are a couple of those bright orange Guantanamo jump-suits which would fit Bush and Blair just dandy. Better yet, scrap the uniforms, if they believe in their war so much send them off to fight it and bring the 19 year old's currently doing the fighting back home. Although I must admit I would like to see the day that Bush or Blair, or both, had egg on their face.

I'm back for the weekend & I brought some sarcasm with me

It has occurred to me that this blog has been wallowing in negativity over the past few postings.

For this, I apologise. In real life I can assure you that I am not a negative and miserable person other than on those occasions when I leave the house and interact with other people or when I stay in the house and read newspapers or watch television. The problem is the world, which appears to be heading toward oblivion faster than I can type supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (it took me three attempts - shut up!)

First there is - global warming. Winter arrived here in Scotland this week, only 3 months later than it should have. This would normally be a good thing except i'm feeling sorry for all the birds that have just woken up to the fact that they are still in Scotland when they should in fact have been 9000 miles south feeding and breeding like the randy feathered freaks that they are or whatever it is that they do down there. However even my sympathetic nature is stretched to the limit by the million or so soft english folk who couldn't handle a couple of inches of snow and felt the need to recover from the horrible experience by taking a day off work. Why is it other countries can survive snowfall without it causing mayhem, but Britain and especially England falls apart?

Then there is - Terrorism. Pop Idol. Where will it all end? In one giant waterlogged karaoke contest between the leaders of Hamas and the Al-Qaeda wannabes, with Simon Cowell as the judge, that's where.

My problem, well one of many, is I care too much. I want a better world, a world where man can live in peace, safe in the knowledge that he will never have to listen to George Bush and Osama bin Laden dueting on I Got You Babe. I want to live long enough to see my beloved son Niall or daughter Nigella (neither yet born, and yes those were the only names I could think of at this moment in time) grow up and marry a 7ft supermodel (yes Nigella can do that too) with a 75-year-old mother who looks like Audrey Hepburn and has a spare apartment on a beach in Trinidad which she absolutely insists on giving to her father-in-law rent free for three months every winter. I want to be there in the Stade de France when Celtic lift the European Cup. Is it any wonder I feel adrift in a sea of hopelessness? Fortunately, whilst fighting this cold, I've had some 6 weeks now (can it still officially be a cold after refusing to budge for 6 weeks?), I have some of the week's papers sitting on my lap to read, so seeing as I have nothing better to do with my time I thought I'd spend an hour looking for positive news stories.

It's either that or I could spend the time watching America's Next Top Model on cable tv - my life is so exciting!

To my immense surprise it appears things aren't as bad as they look, and, to prove it, here are three heartening pieces of news that can surely give us all hope. Okay, two.

First, Britain leads the world league in usage of toilet paper. There's a world toilet paper league?, I hear you ask. Not exactly. But according to an organisation called the European Tissue Symposium (again there really is an organisation with that name, they even have a website - I checked and its boring (I sh*t you not), I think I should have switched on America's Next Top Model), each of us in this country uses 39lbs of toilet paper ever year. This is 110 loo rolls - two-and-a-half times the European average and 20% more than Americans. Personally, I am fed up of people running this country down and I am especially fed up of people from other countries running us down. In my admittedly limited experience of European travelling, French people are the worst. But the next time I am travelling in the south of France and hear some Frenchman slagging off Britain I will be able to look him straight in the eye and ask: "Comment propre est votre derriere?" Of course they might come back at me and say that their smelly backside isn't contributing to global warming, only they'd say so in French and my language skills are limited so i'll refrain from trying that sentence.

Anyway the next positive thing of the week is Kylie Minogue. Has there ever been a more inspiring Australian dwarf with enormous teeth than Kylie? To see her step out into the public spotlight after being 34-timed by her oily French boyfriend (there's a man whose derriere won't be very propre, I bet, although to be fair to him whilst fighting cancer scare she probably wasn't in the mood) was truly an uplifting sight. Good luck Kylie. We love you. Just don't make any more records. Please.

The third and final uplifting news of the week isn't uplifting at all to me, but I'm getting desperate now and if I hurry up with my typing I might just be able to watch ANTM on the one hour delayed feed of the cable channel whose name escapes me.

Mulberry is opening a shop in Glasgow. For those of you who have never heard of Mulberry, where have you been? It is a luxury leather goods shop selling wallets and trinkets and handbags for as much as £4000. Scarlett Johansson and Cat Deeley never shop anywhere else, apparently, apart from when they are looking to buy toilet roll.


Just what Glasgow needs; a luxury leather goods shop selling handbags for as much a £4000 a time - the sign of a truly civilised city. History isn't my strongest subject but I believe Gibbon's main point in the The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire was that everything would have been fine if only Mark Antony had given planning permission to knock down the Colosseum and build a Mulberry's in its place.

Oops. Did that sound negative and miserable? Sorry. It wasn't meant to be. I blame my cold and running out of tissue paper and having to resort to toilet roll.

(note to self must use less brackets)