Some would say that since I haven't been posting blogs lately the internet hasn't quite been the same. These people are clearly deluded, but I fucking love them for it. I'm not going to speculate on the rumours surrounding my recent hiatus, for a couple of reasons, the main one being there's been no rumours. Turns out I'm not as popular as I and other deluded people think I am. But that's fine by me, popularity is a difficult to achieve and even harder to keep up – I can barely sustain an erection, so I'm definitely not ready to take on a burden of popularity. Plus to be popular, you have to keep on the cusp of fashion and recent events, I'm fair to busy cruising YouTube and Facebook stalking for that shit.
Anyhow, I will tell you readers [if there's any of you left] why I have been away. You see, what I've done here is mention that I haven't been writing lately to get you wondering why and now I've drawn you in, you want to continue reading, that's the sign of a good writer - while pointing it out is the sign of a unpopular blogger stroking his own ego and only mentioning it to pad out the whole blog [62 extra words, POW!!]. The fact of the matter is I've been away because something spectacular has happened to me. I'm sure it's happened to plenty of other people lately, maybe some people you know. I haven't had my phone hacked by News of the World [or any other News Corp publication] if that's what you're wondering. This is probably because I have no voice-mail, plus if I did, I trust the people with my phone number to not say anything incriminating in a message, that's just common sense. But the reason for my hiatus is phone related. Addicted to phone sex lines? No. Obsessed with prank calling elderly relatives? No. Did I set my phone to vibrate, lube it up and slide it into my sphincter? No.
I got myself a new phone; an iPhone!
Now I've never had much love for Apple products or apples in general unless they're Granny Smith's [shout out to Granny Smith – I'm trying to get corporate funding or at least so free apples], I have an iPod [but c'mon, who doesn't?], I detest Macs and I could never see myself owning an iPad. I don't know what it is about them, I'm sure the products work perfectly well and are built to an extremely excellent standard, but I get the impression that anyone that owns an iPhone/iPad/Mac is a pompous, pretentious prick.
Right about now I'd like to say; I'm the exception that proves the rule, but I'm not. I can slowly feel the cuntishness iPhone owner traits creeping into my everyday life. Such things as calling my phone an iPhone in conversations, so instead of saying; “Yeah, you can borrow my phone.” I say; “You can't touch my iPhone with your grubby little mitts, you cock!” I've gone app crazy; Lotto app to check my numbers, Hay-fever app to check the pollen count, WordPress app so I can blog on the move – but guess what I've got no time to write because I'm too busy playing on my iPhone … Yeah, iPhone, not phone; iPhone! I get it out of my pocket at least once every ten minutes to unlock it, scroll through the menu, just to lock it again – I don't know why, there's no justification in it, it's just a natural reaction now. And the games... oh the games. I initially told myself, I wouldn't get Angry Birds, let alone become addicted to it, but guess what, I did and I have. So far my friends have hosted three interventions for my Angry Bird addiction and although they've all explained in massive detail how playing Angry Birds is slowly eroding what's left of our dying relationships/friendships, I still don't give a flying fuck. Some apps are only 59p, that is a fucking bargain, don't Mars bars cost more than that now and they last about a minute, a good app could keep you entertained for days on end.
Having owned a BlackBerry and now an iPhone, I feel comfortable wading in on the classic debate; BlackBerry vs iPhone. Going from a BlackBerry to an iPhone is like going from a hand job from a ugly crackhead to shagging Miss World. Don't get me wrong, the BlackBerry is a good phone (crackheads can also give good hand jobs – so I'm told) but the iPhone is an experience, it ceases being a phone, it becomes a friend, and as you begin to favour it over mates, family members and loved ones, it becomes your only friend and as time goes on it becomes your only reason to live.
I struggled to stay focussed on this because I kept playing on my iPhone, sorry it wasn't better.
Friday 15 July 2011
Sunday 10 July 2011
Life, Living and Nike's 'Just Do It' Mini Backpacks
Hi haters, sorry about the hiatus … I've been high ages.
So, what's been happening? The answer; nothing.
It's abruptly come to my attention that while I happen to just about manage to live day to day without dying or getting 'sparked out' by unnamed battler rappers, I don't really have much of a life to speak of. And while that's always been remotely true to some degree, I at least had the determination to be opinionated and passionate about subjects, to the point I would attempt to air my frustrations while hunched over my PC puffing away on a constant supply of cigarettes.
Yet those days seem a distant memory now, as I feel I've given up on giving a fuck. Don't get me wrong, things do slightly annoy me. The most recent thing being the overwhelming popularity of Nike's “Just Do It” Mini Backpacks amongst teenage boys.
They [the teenage boys] look even more like fucking adolescent pricks than they already are with those ridiculous miniature backpacks on. Seriously what is the point of these bags? They're tiny, a two month premature baby has a bigger sack. I see them as an easy way to spot out which members of a teenage group are still virgins. I was going to take it upon myself to punch anyone under fifteen [years of age] in the face if I saw them wearing one [I have no shame in beating up minors, I pick my fights and I pick the ones I'll win], and as they lay on the floor crying [and probably bleeding – cos I'm hard as fuck, mate], I'd rip the bag off their back, unzip it and proceed to shit into it. After a few minutes of deliberation, I obviously opted against this plan for two reasons; one; these bags are so small, if I was to take a dump in one the shit would probably overflow [like a toilet backing up after a Christmas Dinner Shit], two; at the end of the day I don't actually hate them enough to go to the trouble of inflicting violence on a child no matter how idiotic the latest fad makes them look, plus I'm Ben Broughton, I should be saving my faeces for better things, like; freezing them to throw at stray cats or probably medical research, cos the other day I took one the size of my forearm, no word of a lie.
Anyway, less shit talk [get it? shit talk, I was talking about shit – whoo, still got it bitches!], what the fuck am I going to do about my life? I've got to start living it, I'm not going to be around much longer. I'm 24 now, I had a mid-life crisis at 13, so I reckon I have about two good years ahead of me.
Maybe I have some sort of post-Graduation depression, I'm no longer a student and I can't adapt to 'normal society' [I use that term loosely when describing life in Derby]. I'm a bit like a prisoner released back into the community only knowing prison life. It's not as if my life has changed that much; I still hang around the same small select group of friends, any extra money goes on intoxicants, I don't do University assignments … Hey! Look at that! It's exactly the same! [Pointing out my own shitty downfalls is the only way I can cope with coming at the bottom of my class].
Now to prove I'm lacking focus and drive; THE END.
So, what's been happening? The answer; nothing.
It's abruptly come to my attention that while I happen to just about manage to live day to day without dying or getting 'sparked out' by unnamed battler rappers, I don't really have much of a life to speak of. And while that's always been remotely true to some degree, I at least had the determination to be opinionated and passionate about subjects, to the point I would attempt to air my frustrations while hunched over my PC puffing away on a constant supply of cigarettes.
Yet those days seem a distant memory now, as I feel I've given up on giving a fuck. Don't get me wrong, things do slightly annoy me. The most recent thing being the overwhelming popularity of Nike's “Just Do It” Mini Backpacks amongst teenage boys.
They [the teenage boys] look even more like fucking adolescent pricks than they already are with those ridiculous miniature backpacks on. Seriously what is the point of these bags? They're tiny, a two month premature baby has a bigger sack. I see them as an easy way to spot out which members of a teenage group are still virgins. I was going to take it upon myself to punch anyone under fifteen [years of age] in the face if I saw them wearing one [I have no shame in beating up minors, I pick my fights and I pick the ones I'll win], and as they lay on the floor crying [and probably bleeding – cos I'm hard as fuck, mate], I'd rip the bag off their back, unzip it and proceed to shit into it. After a few minutes of deliberation, I obviously opted against this plan for two reasons; one; these bags are so small, if I was to take a dump in one the shit would probably overflow [like a toilet backing up after a Christmas Dinner Shit], two; at the end of the day I don't actually hate them enough to go to the trouble of inflicting violence on a child no matter how idiotic the latest fad makes them look, plus I'm Ben Broughton, I should be saving my faeces for better things, like; freezing them to throw at stray cats or probably medical research, cos the other day I took one the size of my forearm, no word of a lie.
Anyway, less shit talk [get it? shit talk, I was talking about shit – whoo, still got it bitches!], what the fuck am I going to do about my life? I've got to start living it, I'm not going to be around much longer. I'm 24 now, I had a mid-life crisis at 13, so I reckon I have about two good years ahead of me.
Maybe I have some sort of post-Graduation depression, I'm no longer a student and I can't adapt to 'normal society' [I use that term loosely when describing life in Derby]. I'm a bit like a prisoner released back into the community only knowing prison life. It's not as if my life has changed that much; I still hang around the same small select group of friends, any extra money goes on intoxicants, I don't do University assignments … Hey! Look at that! It's exactly the same! [Pointing out my own shitty downfalls is the only way I can cope with coming at the bottom of my class].
Now to prove I'm lacking focus and drive; THE END.
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