Category Archives: Confession

Hello. And we’re back to our unregularly unscheduled program – “Blogging One Year On – Part 3 of 7″ or “where our hero’s heart get’s broken”


Well you can’t have a story without some romantic angle, cause apparently according to 83% of statistics about statistics, 64% of women like that stuff.

Kill me if you will, but the truth shall make you fret!

So romance… *chirrups of crickets echo in the background*

Right… give me a second….

Aha!

This being a postmodern tale, the happiness and well being of the character is not to be expected nor wanted by the audience. And a happy, untroubled love life? Fuggedaboutit. Which really only goes to say that post-modern audiences like to be dicks to their literary characters. But one must go with the times.

So in the middle of the training montage as Eye of the Tiger blares in the background. There she walks in, already bad news you can tell, as a slew of ninja lemmings throw themselves off a handy cliff in their efforts to gain her attention. But being ninja’s they merely, bounced off the pointy rocks below the cliff face and clambered up it, to once again gaze longingly at her as she sashayed past them. So to those who would sic the animal rights people on me, back! Back! Back, I say!

Glimmering blue eyes, something about having a pretty face, insert your own description of a killer bod, throw in some wit and a sense of humour, mix generously with some sexy, sexy brains, and thus you have the recipe for a vixen which I have little to no defense against. What straight male human being could withstand such weapons of mass attraction?

And thus I was bombed clear out of my skull, the blast throwing me into the morbidly obese arms of Cupid.

But alas, the beautiful lass was a spy for the samurai mole rats, and was only seducing me, with her mixture of intelligence, charm, wit, beauty and some sort of pheromone based perfume, to lead me and my comrade in arms in to a trap, wherein flaming meatballs would shower us with death.

The hussy.

Now let us exit the world of truth, stylised violence and in appropriately short attire for women (yes that is a very, very obscure reference to Suckerpunch), and enter the world of insanity, self-discovery and reality.

Things I learnt from blogging – Part 4.

I’m odd. Weird. Strange. Quirky. Eccentric. Actually, scratch eccentric, I’m no where rich enough to be eccentric. Now I know some of you, in your misguided way, are thinking that weird can be kinda cool. But as me and Girl 1 discovered after some debate on the matter, there are various kinds of weirdness. What you’re thinking about is the first type, the alpha, or “cool-weird”. The person who probably best defines this, is this man:

cool-weird /ko͞ol-wee-rd/
Adjective: strange, but hypnotically and alluringly so.

That’s cool-weird.

Then there’s my type. The betas. Or “awkward-weird”. Now there are of course as with everything various levels of being awkward-weird. At one end of the spectrum you have the mouth-breathers at one end, the end farthest from humanity. You know the type, loud heavy breathing and an unblinking stare , and uncomfortable (for you) movements of the hand in his trouser pocket, as he stares at a point directly 2 inches above or below your navel, depending on his mood.

Ahhh Milton. How much do I adore thee?

And at the other end, those who have accepted their strangeness, but just don’t have the panache (or desire) to be lovingly accepted for their oddity, but they are cool in their own non-socially acceptable way. The Steve Buscemi’s of the world in fact.

awk·ward-weird/ˈôkwərd-wee-rd/
Adjective: see picture above.

I fall somewhere in the middle. Quirky enough that if I act exactly how I wanted all the time, I’d probably be in a nut house, but not fully embracing my weirdness so I don’t act exactly how I want to all the time. I walk the tight rope of normal appearances and my true oddball behaviour. Releasing soft puffs of strangeness when I feel safe enough that the people around me won’t burn me at the stake for those comments and/or actions. Kinda like when you let our those silent farts in meetings that you aren’t able to just get out of (you’ve done them I know you have! haven’t you? aahh crap… am I the only one??).

********

Final Note: Is it a coincidence that all these weird people are wearing glasses? Wait…. Steve Buscemi isn’t wearing glasses… he just looks like he is. Ignore this comment.

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Hello, these aren’t the droids you’re looking for – “Blogging One Year On – Part 2 of 7”


Wait, I hear you say, pondering, as we sit side by side on the couch, cups of coffee in hand. You made mine a little too sweet, and its making my teeth ache, but what the hell. A caffeine AND a sugar rush.

“Wasn’t this story about ninja lemmings and samurai mole rats? How did droids get into this? They’re in a completely different time line and genre…”

I scoff at your attempts at making my tale consistent.

PFFT! <– *me scoffing at you*

And as with any story so ridiculously implausible that it HAS to be the truth, there’s an answer to your question.

Time travelling droids. Well not on purpose, but they got caught in a wormhole after they used an escape pod after their ship was boarded by these dudes in completely impractical white uniforms. Seriously, white? On soldier dudes? As if there wouldn’t be a penis drawn on the back of someones helmet the minute they were issued…

If a male robot likes to love another male robot who am I to judge? The short one is a smart arse though…

Anyway, those droids joined me on the unicorn, but they weren’t the droids we were looking for so we tossed them off the side just as the guitar solo came on.They ended up on some desert world and did some stuff. I think there was a movie. Which goes to show you that this must be the truth since, the droids contributed nothing to the story, and one of the lessons we learn growing up, is that just because you want someone to play a particular part in your story doesn’t mean that they will.

And now for the version of events that happened for those of you still stuck in the Matrix.

Things I learnt after a year of blogging – Relationships.

Reading through my disastrous attempts at relationshipping the past year, I have come to one conclusion which I’ve probably have come to before, and if so then please change that previous line to “I have reinforced a previous conclusion”. And that is I suck at relationships. Friendships are fine, hell I’m awesome at those. Don’t ask me why I suck at romantic relationships, I haven’t delved that deeply into that broken and shattered aspect of my personality, sparkling like an insane disco ball in the nether regions of my soul. I just suck.

But I’m fine with that.

Because another thing I’ve discovered from reading a years worth of angst ridden yearnings (well okay there’s not THAT many) is that I’m a helluva lot happier when I’m happy being single than when I’m happy being a couple. It’s like being in a relationship (and being happy within that relationship) is like having pizza. BUT! being single AND being happy about being single is like having pizza, beer, a lazy Sunday afternoon and the entire series of Firefly on a big TV screen.

Shiny.

Hello, this is the tragic part of my tale when my ninja lemming trainer is killed or “Blogging – One Year On. Part 4 of 7”


I see you pondering there.

You read that right. This is part 4. Which has come right after part 1. I’m doing this to show to you that time is a construct (I only have the vaguest notion of what this means because my tutor at University who used it constantly was incredibly attractive) and this blog is avant garde like that.

So, no I am not hiding posts from you. Okay, another lie, I am. But with a relative definition for the term “you”. This entire series has been hidden from one specific person, and instead for reading about ninja lemmings they are being treated to the etymological history of the word “booby” and “tit” as it evolved from bird names to synonyms for a much loved part of the female anatomy. And why it is that when Sir David Attenborough says such words it makes me chuckle.

But you don’t want to hear about that…

So for the story,

…. Shashimi my ninja lemming trainer, throws himself in the path of runaway meatball covered in flaming tobasco sauce in order to save me. I cried. I cried like a baby. An angry, angry baby. I then used the skills imparted by my late great trainer, and using the Spaghetti-Noodles-of-Mayhem-&-Chaos and the colour mauve as my weapons, I assaulted the meatball catapult and killed the samurai mole-rats mole-ratting it (since they weren’t “manning” it obviously) to the last one.

Deadlier than you could possibly fathom. Unless you can fathom stuff like “Does wobble of the spinning top at the end of Inception mean that that it’s going to fall and therefore everything in a movie filled with actors and special effects can be thought of as “real” rather than a “dream”?” If you can do that, death dealing meatballs should be no problem.

Stay tuned, for the next installment! Whichever part of the story I feel like telling you after this bit anyway!

Now for those who are dismissive of this story as the schizophrenic ramblings of a poor deranged soul, I offer you this self-indulgent and self-involved realisation.

One of the things I learnt from a year of blogging is that my moods are mercurial to say the least. Looking back on posts written in almost euphoric highs and then comparing those posts to the ones written which are downright Hamlet-ly melancholic. A doctor I was dating once supposed that I could possibly be hypomanic/cyclothymic (essentially a much more tame version of bi-polar disorder), but I got too weird and she left before she could finish her diagnosis.

She was probably onto something, but the highs are just so much fun that I kinda think I don’t want to be fixed. But of course the lows taste like the fetid remains of a 7 day old skunk, after being left out in the summer sun. So maybe I should look into it…

Hello and greetings from Nerdvana


20120628-161456.jpg

Ahoy muchachorino’s.

I have returned. Captain-er and Sweatpantsier than ever.

True story.

Let’s be honest the last few posts before I took that little break were a mite depressing. Gone were the shameful and ridiculous references to boobs, pole dancing rabbits, puppies and all other things awesome. Instead you were lambasted with self-pitying prose (badly written self-pitying prose I might add) and annoying complaints of my inability to string words into a sentence.

But to that I say “nooooooooooo!” smashes glass and model ships with his phaser I will not sacrifice this blog. We’ve made too many compromises already; too many retreats. Depression invades this space and we fall back. Depression takes over our entire world and we fall back. Not again. The line must be drawn here! This far, no further!”

*ahem*

Sorry about that I’ve been getting nerdier over the past couple of weeks and that quote basically reinforces that (special brownie points to the uber-nerd who can ntell me where that paraphrased quotes from, and we’re on the honour system here folks. No google cheating.)

As you probably have surmised my disappearance and my lack of meaningful post was due to a bout of depression. I really thought I had that whole issue licked, but I guess not. It took me a couple of weeks to realise that I had fallen into that trap again, but once I did, I drew on 10 years of managing depression to snap myself out it. And it worked, I’m not sure if it was merely acknowledging that I had depression again, or the weird and whacky ways I did to snap myself out of that funk, but snap I did.

This little Stella got his groove back (giggity) and ready to once again make your mind seem a little less crazy in comparison to mine.

Fer instance.

I mentioned that I’ve been nerding it up the past couple of weeks. That doesn’t even begin to cover it. I am now so far up the Nerd God’s butt I can see sunlight. My nerdhood has become so all mighty and powerful that frankly that might be the last nail in the coffin that holds the corpse of the hope that I will have intercourse with a female ever again. The aura of nerdity surrounds me like a miasma of girl repellant. I am now so nerdy that I actually believe that my virginity has been restored. That’s right folks, you heard right. I have been re-hymenated. 😉

Now what could I possibly have done to get so über-nerd? Simply, I bought an iPad. Pssshaw I hear you scoff, how is that nerdy? Well, because of the number of apps available, the cheapness of said apps and the ease of being able to search and download anything I want, I am now able to gloriously wallow in all the nerdiest of hobbies that I secretly love, behind a thin veneer of socially acceptable Apple geek hood.

Magic: The Gathering : deal me in

Dungeons & Dragons Character Sheet : roll the dice

Nerdcode: nerdgasm!

Star Trek PADD : make it so

IamaDalek : EXTERMINATE!

And god there are so much more, the only thing really stopping me is not the time to actually search for more, because I’m too busy playing around with the ones I already have.

Gah!

So if anyone has any more suggestions on how I can further nerdify and re-hymenate myself with iPad apps please feel free to do so!

Until next time muchachorino’s!

Excelsior!

Hello Stupid things I did as a Kid Sunday: I created a sport.


Do you remember how invincible you felt as a kid? Of course we were too stupid to put a phrase to our belief of our nigh immortality, but we were too busy having fun with our belief of our indestuctibleness for it to really matter.

Case in point, during a sleepover at my friend house, we decided to create a sport. Stairwell Suicide Luge*.

What you needed to play the game:

1. A sleeping bag that could be zipped ALL the way around.

Something like this...

2. A long flight of stairs.

Plus something like this...

3. Lots of pillows and/or throw cushions.

A dash of that.

4. The belief that you will never ever ever die.

And despite the fact we wore stone washed jeans, yes we thought we were cool.

Basically you put yourself in the sleeping bag, and then filled it with as many cushions as possible. Then you fell down the stairs. Pillows count as two points, small cushions as 1 point.

The next competitor would then take his place, BUT he must either take away at LEAST one cushion (one point) from the number of cushions the first competitor had in his sleeping bag, or forfeit. There is no limit as to how many points a competitor can remove from his run.

A run is a only counted if the body does not stay airborne for more than 0.5 seconds, and has to go the full length of the stairs. If the run falters at any point (say gets caught halfway down the stairs) the competitor is allowed a retry, or he may forfeit.

The person who wins is the last person who goes down the stairs with the least amount of points (like golf really).

Apparently I am far stupider than any of my friend because I am the undisputed, undefeated world champion of Stairwell Suicide Luge. The final event, had me rolling down the stairs with only 2 points (a pillow I wrapped around my head as I tumbled down the stairs). A narrow victory over the 4 point run that my best friend at the time succeeded in doing.

I’m not really sure why we stopped Stairwell Suicide Luge, maybe they grew up. Maybe the thought of breaking their necks finally entered their heads. Maybe it just got all too childish for them.

Me?

I think I’m going for  comeback *grin*.

*NOTE: I do not recommend anyone to attempt the sport of Stairwell Suicide Luge. I repeat do not try this at home kids. Unless you’re willing to fly me over to your house so that I can defend my title against you young whippersnappers.**

** 2nd NOTE: I’m kidding of course. Step away from the sleeping bag and put those cushions down kids. Don’t do it, don’t even think about doing it, don’t even think about thinking about doing it.

I’ve got a championship to protect 😉

Stupid Things I Did As A Kid Sunday: The Pictorial Edition.


This:

Nom Nom Nom... Get in mah belly

Which of course is no longer possible in this day and age.  Most parents will scream bloody murder if they see their baby being eaten by that thing. They’ll take it to the vet straight away. Back when I was a kid, if it could fit in your mouth it was meant to go into your mouth. From the stories my parents have told me these included: remote controls, car keys, money, other peoples tooth brushes, some buttons, wallets, and a cockroach.

This:

And we called old people "guv'nor" as we rode our penny farthings...

Okay maybe it wasn’t war torn Britain, but damnit we still played on the street! Will kids these days ever understand that the youthful shout of “CAR!” meant that the game was paused and everyone moved to the side to let it through. Then the returning shout of “GAME ON!” meant that you go back to your positions. *sigh* I will only have children once time travel has been perfected.

And best of all… this:

Yes. Yes it was.

Hello random stuff Tuesday – on second thought…


Futurama Fry FTW!

“On second thought…”

That phrase has always worried me.

It’s because I’m not restricted to just having second thoughts. I have third, fourth, fifth, ad nauseum thoughts. And I’m never sure which voice is the real me or which one is the voice that comes from my upbringing or which is the one that just trolls the other voices or which is the one that thinks what “society” (whatever that means) tells me I should think or which is the one that I think I should think, but I don’t really.

Confused?

Welcome to my world.

Case in point. My life as it stands now. I think the best way to explain it would be to show the thoughts that ran through my head this lazy Sunday just past.

Original Cap’n: Laundry: done. Shopping: done. Clean up of house: Meh, it can wait. Plan for rest of the day: Watch a few episodes of Top Gear, play around on the PS3, waste some time on the internet, eat a whole bag of popcorn ALL by myself, go for a run or maybe the gym, cook dinner. Repeat 1,2 and 3 until bedtime, then read till I fall asleep. My life is awesome.

Second thought Cap’n: No. Your life is sad.

Original Cap’n: What? Nah man, it’s awesome. I do what I want, when I want. I’m not wasting money any more and I’m paying off my debt. I finally have a job that I like going to AND I’m good at. A woman at this point would just mess things up.

Second thought Cap’n: Ha! See! I didn’t mention women at all, but you had to justify your lonely existence by mentioning them. QED.

Original Cap’n: I only mentioned it cause I know that’s why you piped up. Hellloooo you’re inside my head. I know why you think these things!

Just-Wants-To-Chill Cap’n: *sigh*

Troll Cap’n: Leave him alone, he’s justifying being alone because he’s a social retard.

Second thought Cap’n (to Troll Cap’n): Pfft! He WISHES he was socially retarded. At least that would give him an excuse as to why he’ll be alone for the rest of his life, but he’s not! Well he’s not socially retarded, when he chooses not to be anyways.

Original Cap’n: Hmmmm. Maybe my distinct lack of motivation to socialise is a form of social retardation…

Second thought Cap’n: So you’re agreeing with the douche bag now???

Troll Cap’n: (starts humming We Are The Champion by Queen)

Original Cap’n: Well, doesn’t the fact that everything I have planned for my spare time in the forseeable future involves absolutely no significant social interaction with another human being, and I am glad of that fact, denote some sort of social ineptness?

Party Hard Cap’n: But how about the farewell for Collette? You had two girls ALL over you! You literally charmed the actual top of the dress off one of them. Not as good as charming her pants off, but you were pretty close.

Just-Wants-To-Chill Cap’n: *even louder sigh*

Second thought Cap’n: See. If you really don’t want to be with anyone why were you flirting with that girl at the party huh?

Original Cap’n: But I flirt with everyone! That doesn’t mean I want to go home with them!

Party Hard Cap’n: I call “bullshit”.

Original Cap’n: Okay maybe I did like one, but I don’t want a relationship!

Second thought Cap’n: Yes you do.

Party Hard Cap’n: Who said anything about a relationship? I’m sure she was open for a shag and a fond farewell.

Original Cap’n: Naaaahhhhh… wait a second. Really???

Troll Cap’n: LOL. What an idiot! How could you not tell?

Party Hard Cap’n: I agree with the douche-bag. How the hell could you not tell???

Original Cap’n: Maybe she was just being friendly!

Second thought Cap’n: Look dude, I don’t usually agree with these two, but in this case, yeah, I’m sure she was up for some love-em and leave-em action.

Troll Cap’n: Loooooooosssserrrrrrr!

Just-Wants-To-Chill Cap’n: Will all of you just shut up??? I’m trying to watch some television here!

Original Cap’n (to Blogger Cap’n): What do you think???

Blogger Cap’n: Me? I don’t think. I just post all these embarrassing thoughts you have in your head in a blog, so not only do the women you meet out in the real world think you’re odd, but all women on the internet will also think you’re odd.

Original Cap’n: Fuck.