I'm sensing a double-standard, here.

Sexism's a funny thing. Late last night I received 3 drunken phone calls (more calls from drunk friends...am I, like, a magnet or something for this kind of thing?) from two friends. Two from Conail McMullan and one from Michael Goldring. Immediately I hung up Conail's first call because it sounded as if he had ass-dialled me. The second one I also hung up pretty sharpish because when I answered the phone all I heard was

HAAAAAAIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!
And if there's one thing I hate, it's things that annoy me. And shouting in my ear THAT'S annoying. But me being rude is excusable as Conail's a bastard i.e. he'll get over it.

I gave Michael's a chance because his call was more tolerant. Anyway his call was mainly nothing more than

James I'm just calling to say I've met a guy here who's going steady with a girl from our primary school

That's great Michael

You don't care do you

No, not really

I'M NOT DRUNK. I'M TIPSY JAMES! I'M TIPSY!

What a guy. Needless to say, my respect-o-meter took a significant dip.

This made me realise something. You might remember that I got a similar call on New Years Eve from Niamh Canavan. If you haven't, go look it up. There's a story there about my severe misfortune that terrible people (AKA my friends) seem to find hilarious

Anyway I realised that when I get a call like this from the guys in my year, it's annoying. But when its from the girls, it's hilarious. Mainly because you wouldn't expect it from the girls. I expect it from the guys. Well Conail at least....what an ass.

You wouldn't expect a girl to ring people drunk as they are usually so much more mature... Caoimhe McManus probably won't let me live that down but it's true. I mean I get excited at colourful socks, I feel the need to see most cartoon movies and giggle in history every time I hear the name Manteuffel. On top of that I spend my time half listening to conversations and building more interesting stories around those.

Example: I once heard my mum giving off to my sister because she could only find one sock. Immediately, my mind jumped to "a tiny man who hides in your food, and after you ingest him, travels through your blood until he gets to the feet and eats the sock from the inside"

.....At this point I feel I may have divulged too much

Dear God, why the hell are my posts getting worse? Maybe I need help.

OK new rule. You guys, my readers (all three of you) are encouraged to post ideas for posts in the comment section. I guess it's time for Posting a comment on James' Blog - For Idiots...serious idiots. Idiots with medical conditions that affect the mind

To post a comment on a given post you can either click on the name of the post in the blog archive and scroll to the bottom of the post or you click on the thing that says "0 comments" or however many comments it has at that point and it should bring you to the post with a comment box at the bottom.

Try not to write any lewd comments...lewd...what a word.

Anyway this goes for any and all future posts

Gotta leave your name or I'll just ignore you.

And I can here you saying how lazy I am and you are right sir!

Audience?!?

Audience? What are you doing reading my insane ramblings from around the world, audience?
They could make you go crazy. Or become more like me. Some would argue that to be a bad thing. Something to be terrified of. Does that make this blog an act of terrorism?
Anyway that's pointless and irrelevant. The point of this blog is....
...um
......oh oh oh I got it. I have two modules to do this week and that depresses me. So what cheers me up? Tricking people into reading the absurdity, the delirium, and any other four syllable words that are synonymous with insanity that resides in this blog.

Although, on the subject of pointlessness, irrelevance and randomosity (the point has spiralled wildly out of control and at this point, I'm just riffing) watch these videos. They are hilarious if you have that kind of sense of humour. You will not, however, enjoy it if you like order, well planned jokes, satirical comedy or wear a suit. That last part isn't exactly integral but a business man wears a suit and I have never met a business man who could have been a comedian. Of course if you are a boring person like that, then what the hell are you reading this for.

Go plan a spreadsheet for your businesses annual sales revenue or something

Anyway, here are the links to the videos http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKB4h9gvmm0
                                                             http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oY6tCnu-1Do

Moving on, I just wanted to profess my excitement at the multitude of countries I've reached even though chances were they didn't actually read anything.
There's:

• The UK
• The US
• Slovenia
• Germany
• Austrailia
• France
• Serbia
• Taiwan
• South Africa
• Croatia
• Singapore
• Denmark
• Russia (In soviet Russia, Blog reads YOU....I had to say it. Don't judge me)
• Austria
• India
• Sweden
• And the one that started it all, Malaysia.

How the hell did I wind up in Croatia. I couldn't point to Croatia on a map! Or Serbia for that matter. Or Slovenia. OK the point is: Geography? Not my forte.

Which, like one big circle-y, object thing that leads me all the way back to school.

The bane of my existence. A necessary evil. Although I'm inclined to think that nothing this evil is necessary. Modules destroy my brain and if I concentrate, I can actually feel a constant pressure headachey thing at all times. I've come to the conclusion that this is either something living in my head trying to break its way out, oooooor a serious mental condition yeno whatever.

Regardless, I shall stumble my way through the dark tunnel of horrible horrors that is my A-levels until I reach the light at the end of the tunnel. No that isn't a death threat of heading toward the light. The light is a metaphor, silly!

The light is when everything I've dreamt of comes true. Successful journalist, no tests, Monies and the destruction of the Disney channel. Hopefully that last one comes about at my own hands. But dreams don't always come true.

With my luck, Disney Channel will be around until the end of time.

Oh how I despise it.

Weirdest New Years Ever!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
It's 2011 and to reign it in there obviously has to be a situation in which I believe myself to be hallucinating. During the evening/night/morning I opened my front door to find a guy dressed as woody outside. He was carrying twin pistols and a sword. These pistols were around 240 years old and he had just come from a fancy dress party...who the hell brings antique pistols worth a couple of grand to a fancy dress party??

This further enhances my belief that my life is one big dream.

Of course in a dream there's nothing awkward. A guy who lives near me and will not be named was at my house at my parents invitation. At one point he struck up conversation with me and as soon as he opened his mouth 2 things became apparent to me.

1. This man was completely wasted. I knew this because he was slurring his words so bad i thought there might have been something medically wrong with him
2. This was going to be the most awkward/embarrassing conversation in the history of my life.

He started talking about his son, whom I knew when i was younger but never really got along with. Mainly because his son was mean and hit me a lot. I was 4 or 5 tops so this was enough to steer me clear of him forevermore. The drunk man said to me in these exact words:

Yeah, see my son's not like you, he doesn't talk much to people he doesn't know...He's a bit of a boring *C-word* (My family reads this blog I'm hardly going to write that out. Use your imagination)

I'm standing there, shell shocked to say the least, watching a middle aged inebriated man laugh his heart out. He then continued (to my horror) to say:

Nah, nah he's a nice kid...Could do with a shag though

There has never been a point in my life where I contemplated tearing my own ears off and burning them until he said those words. My parents, sympathetic as they are, just laughed and laughed and laughed when I told them about the...encounter.

Wonderful people to have around when your brain is about to melt.

However the night went on with events that didn't cause cringing.

I received a call from Niamh Canavan who may or may not have been drinking. More may than may not I have to say. The conversation was pretty much one sided and at some points she was just giggling away to herself because I was able to tell who was calling me. Finally she got to the point and asked me to put her into the blog because, in her exact words

Because everyone thinks it's really funny and if I'm in it I'll be so popular.

So here you are you drunken eejit.

Happy New Year

I think they do it on purpose. Just for Kicks, Yeno?

You may have realised by now that sometimes, once every so often, I get a little...peeved at things. If you enjoyed rants of rage then this is your lucky day. If you don't you are seriously in the wrong place. Have the Care Bears write a blog. It would be more up your alley.

Straight to the point. Have you ever had to call your network provider for your mobile? If you haven't, NEVER GET A CONTRACT because then you might want to retrieve your old number. It is the biggest hassle in existence. I had to make 4 phone calls to 2 service providers because the first guy at, well let's call them O3. The guy at O3 gave me the wrong code to do it so I had to call them a second time. The second guy sounded like a broken, talking Ken doll. Every time I read out a section of my mobile number said "Yeah" with the exact same inflection each time.

Now you could be reading that and thinking that that is normal and we all do that when writing down something called out over the phone. But at this point, the guy got it into his head that I was getting pissed off at him. Literally out of no where he said "I'm not trying to have a go at you" This made me want to kill this man. And so when he said "yeah" all those times in that inflection I was annoyed and so got the idea he felt he was winning by hearing the phone number correctly. No, I am not insane and paranoid so get those thoughts out of your head.

It's his fault for choosing that profession where anger is born. It's the kind of job that creates serial killers on both side of the phone line.

For that matter, who the hell chooses to work there. I mean what kind of broken lifeless 6 year old stands up in class and says "I want to be a phone line operator for O3 when I'm older" A 6 year old who was given an abacus and a book on Accounting for his birthday that's who.

However the other network operator was perfectly helpful and made no mistakes whilst explaining the process. After a bit of chat with Dan (oh yeah. He was so helpful, I remembered his name) I hung up with the sickly mixture of regret at having rang in the first place, accomplishment and annoyance at the Ken doll operator.

Moral of the story, If you ever befriend somebody who works as a network service operator, WALK AWAY FROM THEM. Quickly. Because if you need to ring your operator and they pick up, you will hang up hating them. True Story

MILESTONE 2.0

BOOOOOOOM!!!!

That, ladies and gentlemen, was my blog breaking the quadruple digit views barrier. I wish i could say it was shattered but, as I look at it now, it only has 1,001 views. But hey its more than a thousand and I would just like to say thank you to all of you out there who wish to peer into the inner recesses of my mind. You obviously have a mental disorder of your own if you want to go in there.

Hell, thinking about it, I barely want to go in there.

In fact, I'm starting to think the only reason I broke a thousand is due to the fact that it was christmas 2 days ago.

IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!

A post on Christmas day? What, has he got nothing better to do?

Now, last post you may or may not have noticed that it was eeeeeever so slightly weighted toward the negative aspects of my tolerance i.e. things that make me insane. And so, as it's Christmas, I'm going to balance that out with a post of the things I love most in this world. If Padraig Conlon is reading this, I know exactly what your mind has jumped to and you should know that if it is voiced I'm going to have to bury you in the snow. Moving on to the actual point of this post.

Now, Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens and brown paper packages tied up with string are all well and good. But sadly they are not a few of my favourite things.

Some of you may know that I am a greedy S.O.B. am slightly enthusiastic about my food. Family members will know that I do not enjoy groups inter-mixing. I'm all for old-fashioned food segregation. Mash potatoes + baked beans = the worst edible catastrophe in existence. Corn and mash potatoes aren't exactly meal time friendly to me either.

Mash Potatoes - Natures minefield.

One of the greatest edible pleasures in existence is the Barbecued Ribs from an American restaurant in Belfast. The ribs look like they've been taken from a giant cow. A giant cow on steroids. A fat Giant cow on steroids. A fat giant cow on steroids that drank BBQ sauce its entire life. A fat giant cow on - well you get the point. Ribs = Goodliness on a platter.

Well, now that I've finished talking about food, I find there's actually very little else to talk about. That either makes me fat or a cynic....or both. Both is more likely.

Books. I'm a bit of a book worm, myself. So much so that I may be addicted to walking into Waterstones and buying anything that looks even vaguely good. One time a new book I wanted came out and so I went in to buy it.

There was a "3 for 2" sale on. I left with 3 books. I'm going broke but it's for a good cause. I used to try and get my little sister Anna to read some of my books because, let's face it, I have amazing taste in books. She read them and gave them back to me...then she realised I was a crazy person. I'm pretty surprised it took her 14/15 years to figure it out. You could call me insane because I'm somewhat protective of my books. The covers can't get creased, you can't bend the corners of pages to mark your page (use a bookmark god-dammit) and you most certainly DO NOT just throw it about. Stupid Anna. Not knowing the rules before I tell her them.

Ahh Sleep. Sleep can shield you from all misfortunes. You don't feel the pain of a broken limb when you are asleep (a pain I have felt awake 3 times...OK so I'm a bit clumsy). If you're hungry before going to sleep you'll wake up without that feeling for about an hour. Without sleep I'm not the lovable guy who spends his time writing down his genius thoughts that you have come to know and love.

But, as this is a "Christmas special" (which it really isn't) I feel obliged to tell you that Christmas trumps all of these things. What's not to like about it? The food, the presents, being with family... OK well the food and the presents anyway. Doctor Who Christmas special is on today which I WILL NOT MISS, turkey is cooked to perfection today, multitudes of cans of coke are bought for this day and, above all, I get super colourful socks today.

So screw modules, screw school, screw stress for at least one day. Imma sit my ass down, watch some Doctor Who, eat until I burst and spend all day tomorrow in my new Teenage mutant Ninja Turtles PJ's that I got. I didn't ask for them but I am sooo not complaining.

Merry Christmas
Happy Kwanzaa (Starting tomorrow anyway)
And have a great 2011. I'd be surprised if 60% of you actually remember the event after all the drink I'm certain you will consume.

But, yeno, it's as good a start as any. And let's hope this stupid snows melts and goes straight to hell (or underworld of your choosing)

Grumpy Old Men - Lone Teen Edition

So tonight, I'm a little bored. All the TVs are being used, the book I'm reading at the mo isn't very enticing and I have next to no money on my phone. And so I'm going to entertain all three of you who read this. And how am I going to do that? By doing what I do best...Complaining about things that I don't like.

Number one (but not necessarily top) on that list is Fred. One of the most subscribed YouTubers, Fred has now got his own movie....what has the world come to? I mean when I talk complete crap in a high pitched, Elmo-esque voice people call me weird, they don't give me movie deals and the chance to call Pixie Lott my girl-friend. Life's not that good.

Next is something I am well versed in complaining about. It's friggen rave/beat/dance/techno music (if you can call it that) that they play in clubs and bars. I have a theory about the creation of this crap. One day a young songwriter came to his/her manager and gave him his/her CD. The manager then gave it to the DJ to mess with the vocals and the like. But the DJ, well he was an idiot. Doped up to his eyes and downing shots of whiskey like it was water he just put in the CD and thrashed every button on his head. The manager, equally stocious thought

Oh that has a recognisable beat, we're sweet

And thus the brain tumour of the music industry was born, nay, spawned and the world got a little more stupid

THE DISNEY CHANNEL!!!!! My god whatever idiot that writes the script for 98% of those shows needs to be shot. Really. In the face. Whilst a cat shreds their private area. After having a Chinese burn administered (the gravest of all pains). Then again I do enjoy Phineas and Ferb. Faaaaar too much. So much so that I know the words to the title sequence and sing-a-long to the Perry the Platypus song.....and I maaaaay have considered downloading one of the songs they sing each episode.

The Snow. Oh how I loathe it. Its a wet, slushy, dirty, weapon. It causes the whole of the western European world to grind to a halt, flights grounded, trains breaking down and yet somehow, SOMEHOW my sister still managed to get home. Orla, my sister who goes to school in Glasgow returns home at any excuse. Well she's home for Christmas now and within 15 minutes of her return, the floor in the back room almost gets set on fire. You read that right. OK so, she had nothing to do with it and it was technically my dads doing but still.
I'm pretty sure she thinks of me as some sort of Ken doll because she keeps trying to dress me in new clothes she sees in random shops. So to sum up, snow has brought this torture upon me. I don't think I will ever recover.

This list has gone on for long enough so I'm going to leave you with the last one on the list (for now) and that is people from Ballymena below 30. As a general law they are arrogant, extremely chavvy, rude and they think they are the greatest thing since the bacon sandwich. Which they aren't because, let's face it, what's better than a bacon sandwich. In the words of Russell Howard

It is essentially two slices of bread giving a dead pig a hug.

And they just- Yeno what, yeno what I'm just going to stop because I would rant and rave about them forever.

So I'll just leave you with a road enraged cat. Enjoy