Why do headphones hate me?

Why? Why do headphones hate me? Why do they always break on me? What did i ever do to them? If anything i’ve only ever treated them with nothing but respect and dignity, and what do they do to repay me? They break! All the fucking time! I go through them like you wouldn’t believe. Argh! They’re’s nothing more annoying than being out and about listening to your musack when suddenly your goddamn headphones decide its time to pack it in….

Take today for instance. Its a bright, sunny day. I’ve just finished college and it’s the end of a marvelous week, so I bounce out the gates ready to stroll home and enjoy the magical sounds of the Jackson 5. Well, no sooner had a young Michael began to explain that ABC is as easy as you and me (or as the case may be, him and some one else) then my headphones (who i’m certain are fully aware of what they are up to) decide to have a sonic-spasm. And most annoyingly they of course just don’t decide to pack it in, but one of the ear-phones has to go on the blink, thus treating me to some wonderful aural shitfestery. Thus, I have to abandon Michael and his brothers and enjoy the walk home with only the constant hum of Toyota Corollas to entertain me.

If I had a penny for everytime my headphones broke on me…well, I probably wouldn’t have enough for a new pair, but i would have a fistful of pennys which i’d take round to the Sony shop and throw at the sales assitant. Sony, of course, being the people who sent me my only Valentines Day card this year, which wasn’t even a card and was actually try to hawk me some of their dodgy gear. Speaking of Sony, their whoring mp3 player annoys me no end too.

ARRGHH.. My hands are shaking with rage. Fuck this. Im off for a scoop!

Do ru-bots dream of electric sheep?

Yes, the unseen over fiend who regular readers will know I blame and or congratulate for the mis-fortune and fortune I enjoy seems to have tired of my recent good luck and subsequent blabbing about it and decided my run was to come to an end. They have sent the clouds of despair to piss on me just as the week was drawing to a close. . Now of course nothing has actually happened at all, and I’m merely feeling sorry for myself, but nevertheless my cock-of-the-walk swagger has deteriorated into a mopey bastard crawl. Sigh.

Coincidentally my sister, for one, is tiring of my theory that the universe revolves around me and all world events are an attempt to please or disappoint me. I think it’s the feeling that she doesn’t really have freewill and is merely a pawn in a giant astral game designed entirely around myself that annoys her. Selfish? She’s also decided to inform me she believes that I am “more witty and charming in print than I am in person”. >:(. So, with that in mind I have decided to retire to the cold electronic confines of the interweb where I am more clearly more appreciated. Utilizing an ingenious device of my own crafting (a USB cable sellotaped to my wardrobe and powered entirely by the sounds of Eddie Van Halen’s solo in “Beat It”) I will be hopefully transporting myself into the world wide web shortly, wherein I will be treated like a God. Having consolidated my power in the electronic world, I will gain control over the US’s nuclear weapons systems and launch a giant simultaneous missile strike on my enemies (namely Drogheda United football club, Bono and of course my sister). Sadly, this will mean death for many of you. The survivors though, will have the pleasure of fighting for survival in a hellish post-apocalyptic war zone, although one thankfully devoid of Bono. Pro’s and Cons, eh?

In other news, my mother believes that “George Michael shouldn’t be on stage…he should be behind bars”.

Finale!

What? Arsenal? Champions League Final? Are you mad? Are you quite mad? Are you madder than the bastard offspring of Jens Lehmann and Charles Manson?

OH YES!.

I was certain the cosmos, having let me away with so much, for so long, were ready to play the most devious game of all and shatter me right at the dizzy heights of my good fortune. But alas, it was not to be and the legends that are Arsenal have marched UNBEATEN to the Champions League final.

And before you HALFWITS come at me with your petty, lame comments let me confirm the following:
YES, ARSENAL WHERE SHIT TONIGHT.
YES, VILLAREAL SHOULD HAVE SCORED

BUT, REMEMBER THIS:

TRUE champions grind out ugly results
TRUE champions get lucky
TRUE champions SCORE when they HAVE to.

OH YES….oh fucking good god yes. So, petty humanoids, know this, and know it well. Arsenal are in the champions league final. Prepare for two weeks of me having a big stupid grin.

I had to miss the second half due to another commitment, so I taped it then went about the process of skillfully avoiding hearing the result, rushing home to my quarentine cocoon to endure the most painful 45 minutes of my life. But thankfully Jens Lehmann is a LEGEND and Arsenal just about scraped their way to the promised land. The balance of misfortune swings ever further from me….when will I get my come-uppance?

Mission Impossible

So The Mission(tm) (that is the mission to try and not get legless drunk and forget doing anything and doing silly things) is still semi-successful. By no means have I managed to lower my level of pint-intake, BUT I am enjoying a good rate of memory retention and lack of mis-adventures! Hooray. Hangovers, alas, have returned with a furious vengence. Today, I felt like a small nuclear device had gone off in my brain, and thanks to a weekend of scoopage I am now experiencing the dreaded booze blues. Still, it was a weekend of unplanned sessions, which are the best types of sessions. All manner of magical things happen when you don’t plan to have a session. I managed to come last in a pub quiz and still win a bottle of wine and 8 cans of beer, I came first in a game of Trivial Pursuit (but only won scorn from my opponents) and I saw a baby being exorcised.

So, I suppose the moral is its not wether you win or lose, its how you play the game. And I play it drunk.

What ever happened to SARS?

Remember SARS? Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome? Remember that stuff was going to spread all over the world and make our lungs leap out of our nostrils and attack our neighbours? What ever happend to SARS? Hmmm.. I remember reading all these massive headlines about “DEADLY VIRUS KILLS ELDERLY WOMAN IN REMOTE VILLAGE IN TIBET” and we were all being warned of an impending apoclypse. We were being told not to look at Asian people, and little Chinese kids were being turned away from the Special Olympics and people travelling to Singapore had to wrap themeselves in cling-film….then it….went away…..

Fast forward 2 years and all of a sudden its BIRD-FLU! Run from the pigeons! We can’t play with decaying chicken heads anymore! (spoil sports) and its now headline news when a Swan in Bognor Regis dies……well…..you’ll excuse me for not being in the slightest worried. Sure, before SARS it was EBOLA – Now that was a scary fucking disease! It made your insides melt. FUCKING MELT! It seems like these diseases are getting more hyped the less scary they become…I mean….first of all Ebola makes you poo your melted guts out, then SARS makes your lungs explode, and now…..a bird flu?

Sure, i’m not even a bird….

Last year, during World AIDS day, a woman came up to me and offered me a free condom. I declined saying “Thanks, but I don’t have AIDS……”.

Cruise vows to eat baby’s placenta

Tom Cruise makes stomachs turn around the globe revealing his plans to eat his baby’s placenta, GQ reports.

The Mission: Impossible III star allegedly told GQ magazine (US): “I’m gonna eat the placenta. I thought that would be good. Very nutritious. I’m gonna eat the cord and the placenta right there.”

Yes, Tom Cruise IS bat-shit crazy.

Like a fart in the wind.

It’s all wrong. U2 are voted “the Nations Favourite Lyric” for One, a song which features the following pile of pretentious vomit:

Have you come here for forgiveness?
Have you come to raise the dead?
Have you come here to play Jesus?
To the lepers in your head

Lepers in your head? Was this written by a depressed secondary school student? Then again, the Nation in question is the UK. But, if it was Ireland we’d probably have voted for the Jumbo Breakfast Roll song or something equally shite. Then, i’m pointed towards the fact Bob Geldof has been voted “Best Celebrity Dad“. WHAT? What does that even mean? Is he the best celebrity who is also a Dad? Or the best Dad who is a celebrity? And how would we even know? Maybe after Bob saves the starving children he goes home and makes his kids make charity wristbands into the wee hours of the night. Or write lyrics for his bum-chum Bono. Nonsense. Then again we live in a world where according to “Celebrity Jigs and Reels“, the Costume Designer for Riverdance is a Celebrity. Huh? The man who talks to empty seats on the buses round our way is a bigger celebrity. Soon we’ll all be celebritys and Ireland will be renamed “Celebrity Republic of Ireland” and the public will vote us out one by one into the sea whilst Ant and Dec laugh at us from their hovering space-pod.

Maybe.

Also, I havn’t had a drop of Coca-Cola in over 8 days, the longest period without Coke in my adult life! And my dear mother just randomly placed a can of it in my hands……..I stared at it, but i really wasn’t looking at the can of Coke, I was looking into my soul. And with the will power normally associated with Buddhist Monks and/or Ninja’s I handed her back the can, and walked away…..

I think it’s going to be ok.

Good Friday, Vietnam

Happy Good Friday to you all. I like Good Friday, I don’t know why. What I don’t like however is the man telling us we can’t purchase pints today. Not that i’m a compulsive drinker that needs to drink all the time…… but it seems a bit strange that a secular government feel the need to impose a religious edict that in itself has no basis in church logic or law or whatever. I like Jesus, seemed like a cool fella, and I believe in God but all this no eating chicken-burgers on the second Tuesday of the last month of the full moon is a bit of nonsense. A better way to worship God would be, oh I don’t know, being nice to people, leading a good life and being thankful. Not having a pint on one day of the year? I’d like to think that God in his infinite wisdom and power doesn’t require the little people he made to go around following rules made by other little people in order to feel good?

So to celebrate this wonderful world that God made, then sent his son to clean up (who we then murdered of course) i’m going to drink some cans and play Buzz with my friends. If God has a problem with that, he knows where I am.

The tragic paradox of the waferless KitKat

Ah, its a rare but special occurance. You pick up a seemingly normal KitKat and bite into it only to discover that by some mishap at the Nestle factory they have neglected to include the very thing that gives a KitKat its reson detre, the wafer. But usually this discovery is met with a curious delight, as despite the fact that if a solid chocolate bar was what you really wanted you could have purchased one, by some cosmic occurance fate has delivered you not what you wanted, but something else, equally if not more enjoyable. Now, you are faced with a dilemma. If you were to stop eating it, carefully seal and package it and return it to the manufacturer you could well find yourself showered with all manner of goods to make up for this unfortuante incident. But, the tantalising prospect of consumning this rarest of treats becomes to much, and you scoff the lot.

This one time I purchased a six-pack of that fine brew Dutch Gold (hey, I was poor and it was 6-for-a-fiver). When I got them home, I discovered that one of them was empty. No hole, no puncture, no open top, just a sealed shut empty can of beer. (well, technically it wasn’t even a can of beer at this stage, but that’s a whole semantic mess we’d be getting into there). This was intriguing to us, and of course brought with it the tantalising prospect of returning it to the brewery in the hope of being rewarded with a bounty of cheap, nasty lager. In the end, for reasons I cannot recall, I never did and the empty can remains in my possession. I sometimes wonder what wonderful things I may have recieved had I complained. …..

So, what is the moral of the waferless KitKat? The Rolling Stones once sang “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you get what you need” No doubt Mick Jagger was singing about how hard it is in this world it is to find happiness. But, he may also have been talking about the waferless KitKat. In many ways the discovery of a waferless KitKat is alot like life itself… or it could just be a malformed chocolate bar. Who knows?

Oh and here’s a great link for you…there are some geniuses out there.
Titanic 2! Jack’s Back!

Jordan gave me a pink-lazer induced brain-ache…..

So, late Wednesday evening apon returning from the local tavern where I watched the mighty, mighty Arsenal march ever forward in the League of Champions, I found myself watching the Jordan and Peter Andre reality TV thingy. I wearily glanced up from my laptop occasionally to see what shite they were getting up to now and again. Little did I know that I was about to have my retina’s assualted.

The narrator announced that following the exchanging of the marraige vows, Jordan and Peter were entering the reception area to dine with their guests. Innocently I glanced up, and to my surprise found that the decor chosen for the event was so vividly powerful it formed a giant pink lazor beam that shot from the television across my living room and directly into my eyeballs. Not only was she dressed from head to toe in pink, but she had chosen to bathe the entire room in a flueresant pink glow that burned brightly, like a militant Barbie doll had set of a nuclear device. I sat transfixed as a seering pain welled up inside my eyeballs, and I felt my optical nerves begin to vibrate wildly. I’m also pretty sure that my TV began to emit some kind of low-frequency throbbing sound.

Eventually I was able to break my glare and shield my eyes, but the damage had been done. A deep, cutting migraine had been burned into my cranium, and I could do little but crawl to bed.

In the film “Pi” the lead character stared into the Sun as a child, and the effect was so strong it made him into a mathematical genius. The next morning I awoke, and struggled to even put on my trousers. In a zombie like fashion I then wandered to the local shop to purchase Heat! magazine, which I sluggishly drooled over whilst clawing at pictures of Chantelle and Preston, a sorrowful moan was all i could muster. Everything I see now has a slight pink tone to it…..

Postscript: Whilst I stumbled about the previous night, following the optical assualt, I did however manage to hear that they had their first dance as a couple to “A Whole New World” from Alladin, and whilst Peter in his speech nobly thanked Jordan for giving him the ability to be a father, she could only muster thanks for OK magazine for “putting her bank balance through the roof”. Fucking scumbags.