R.I.P. (Romance in Pieces) [Valentine’s Day Special]

With one more capitalist holiday amongst us I thought I’d delve into yet another unprovoked rant about this one. Having done the exact same thing last year (Who Wants VD?), I thought I may as well carry on the tradition. Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day, the time of year that shops deck out their windows with so much red and black streamers and shit that it looks as if a Nazi rally is about to ensure, it’s just that the swastikas have been replaced with love hearts. Although to me, a big huge love heart carries the same cogitations of fascism that the swastika does. Valentine’s Day is the most ‘romantic’ of all the other schemes to make people buy each other gifts to ‘prove’ their love one more time with materialism.

But I’ve noticed something and I'm not sure when it happened, but it did. Romance died, and that's putting it nicely. The actual truth is women killed Romance. And "killed" is an understatement. Let me explain how it all happens now;

If a male goes out and decides to buy something for his female counterpart there's a few responses he gets depending on what he buys.

If he buys Chocolates: "Chocolates? Chocolates? You know I'm on a diet! Do you want me to get fat? Oh my god, you think I AM FAT? Are you saying I'm a fat bitch!! Fuck you!!"

If he buys Flowers: "Fuck you, you cheap bastard! Buying my something that’s just going to die in a couple of days! I hope you fucking die!"

If he buys Clothes: "What is this? What is this piece of shit? You know this isn't my colour, I'm an Autumn, this is a Spring, you don't know my colour scheme is at all, this doesn't complement my skins or eyes at all. Are you stupid? And it’s the wrong fucking size!"

If he buys Sexy Underwear: "What the fuck.... Do I look like a slag? Do you expect me to wear this shit!?! I'm glad I'm sleeping with your brother and all your mates, you small-dick-having, premature-ejaculating, one-ball-bigger-than-the-other having, piece of shit!!"

If he buys jewellery: “What’s this shit? Did you get this from Argos? This is pathetic; Julie’s man got her something a million times better than this! You’re such a fucking waste.”

You see how complex this whole situation is. Any of the ‘original’ ideas just get shot down, so much for originality. There’s always the option for taking a girlfriend/wife out for Valentine’s Day, but who would want to do that?

Almost all of the restaurants will be filled up with couples celebrating this ‘materialistic cash-in on the fact people are in love’ day. Nobody wants to be in a restaurant with 30 other couples, because when seeing how other couples interact with each other it just makes you and your loved one jealous; “Why aren’t we like them?” Because face it; everybody else looks happier than you. You two just sit there quietly, deeply ashamed and embarrassed over the fact that your relationship is clearly not up to the standards of those around you. You struggle to find anything to talk about, you push your food around your plate because you can’t eat it seeing as you feel sick to your stomach and deep down you know this was the worst idea ever. Getting her a bag full of dog shit would have been better than this. At least with the dog shit, she would have just shouted at you at home, instead of being stranded here in the middle of a fancy restaurant with the happy couples gazing directly at you, thinking; “Look at those pathetic bastards, what are they even doing here?” The worst thing is, the time spent in a restaurant is dragged out, you can’t bail half way through, because that’ll really make a scene. It’s a slow execution, that only ends once the waiter brings the bill, and it dawns on you that you have to pay top dollar for this kind of nightmare-ish hell!

You see, Valentine’s Day seems as if it is geared towards the woman; it’s not a day of love or romance, as some would have you believe. If you look closer it seems to be one more day for women to get something. All those big, heart shaped balloons and cuddly teddy bears in shop windows aren’t for the men, they’re for the women. A man doesn’t want this hassle, but it’s a part we have to play, much better than the other option; being alone. No man wants that, that’s why we fold to this pressure every year; we have to go all out because arguments over the shitty gifts we get our counterparts or depressing meals in restaurants are both a damn sight better than sitting at home alone eating cold beans straight from the tin. Valentine’s Day doesn’t prey on the love between a man and a woman (or a woman and a woman, or a man and a man); it preys on men’s insecurities. That’s what Valentine’s Day really is, a celebration of men’s insecurities and constant fear that they’ll be alone, so they’re forced to worship women by bringing them gifts as if the woman is a type of ancient queen, only to have it thrown back in their faces. The queen is not amused with your pathetic attempts to keep her happy. And in this process of neediness and desperation Romance became a casualty in the on going war for men not to be alone. Decades ago Romance was the only weapon men had to combat loneliness, now we’re left with nothing and destined to die alone.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Our House ...

I just so happen to live in a seven bedroom house, with five other housemates (notice the term; ‘housemates’, not ‘friends’). When first deciding to move into this house we all deluded ourselves into thinking that this year at University would be great, sadly we couldn’t have been more wrong. The phrase “the more, the merrier” came to mind when we decided to live with each other, I have since come to the conclusion that this phrase is complete tosh, and would like to request that this phrases be exiled from the English language indefinitely.

Let me first give you an incite into the house I live in. It’s big, really big. It has seven bedrooms, the spare one we use as a laundry room (to dry clothes) or a chill out room (to watch DVDs). It’s drafty, really drafty. A breeze constantly runs through the house, often carrying the smell of marijuana with it, it’s like sitting opposite Katie Price with her legs open and a copious amount of cannabis stuck up her snatch. It’s cold, really cold. My house is so cold a Polar Bear could freeze to death here. Being students, we have a limited amount of funds, so in order to keep the gas bill down we don’t have the heating on that much and even if we do it doesn’t make much of a difference. Our boiler is so small, it looks as if it has been torn out of a one berth caravan and poorly slapped up in our bathroom. Speaking of bathrooms, we have two, one with a shower and one with a bath. The shower is terrible; it’s akin to a fat man dribbling on you. Water barely trickles out of the fucking thing. I get wetter from the splash back out of the basin of the toilet when I flush it, than I do standing under the shower for three days straight. So therefore I have completely given up on using that shower and I know opt for the bath (which also has a shower attached to it) instead. This shower is better, due to the fact it fucking works as a shower should; dispensing large amounts of water, powerfully, but there is still a drawback. Once I climb out of the bath/shower I’m in the freezing cold air that fills the house. It’s excruciatingly painful as icicles form around my penis... told you it was cold.

Now you have an understanding of the house, I’ll move on to its inhabitants. Seeing as this could produce plenty of hate towards myself, I’m going to be general and not mention names so feelings don’t get hurt.

Of course in a house with this many people living in it there’s bound to be tension from time to time, but for as long as I can remember there has now been constant tension. There’s always an eerie atmosphere around the house, which I can only relate to the ambience that featured in my childhood home when my parents decided to get a divorce because they couldn’t stand each other. I keep thinking that housemate #2 is going to be waiting for me outside University one day, with a mover’s truck full of our belongings, telling me that we’re “never going to see housemate #4 again, after everything they’ve put us through”. Then I’ll be thrown in the midst of a custody battle between housemate #2 and housemate #4, with both of them telling me they love me more and the other one is evil.

The problem is people seem to think that they are doing more than the other housemates, everyone has this opinion. Of course, they’re wrong, because nobody does more around the house than me. And any attempt to voice opinions on what someone else has or hasn’t done results in primary school disputes about who really is the biggest dickhead and which one of our dads could knock the other dads out. I sometimes feel as if I’ve accidently wondering into a nursery and I’m the only responsible adult in existence. It seems as if people no longer do jobs around the house because they need to be done; instead people do the jobs so they can add them to a list to be used in the next heated argument. For example;
Housemate #1: “You never wash your pots!”
Housemate #3: “Actually, I cleaned all the leaves out of the gutter! So what if I leave my pots, nobody else does the guttering!”
Housework is then used as a type of arsenal to shoot down accusations of laziness. The bigger or more important the job you do, the better you see yourself compared to the rest of the house. But this leaves the little jobs undone. For example, vegetables are left to rot on the side in the kitchen, because throwing them away is not a “big enough job” for when the next argument comes around. I know I’m moaning about this now, but seeing as none of those vegetables are mine I don’t see why I should do it, because if I did throw them away, I know what would happen;
Housemate #5: “Where are my parsnips? They were on the side, that’s were I left them two months ago, now they’re gone! You can’t leave anything lying around in this house!”
Me: “I threw them away because they were all gross and maggots were slowly feasting on them, I thought seeing as this is a FUCKING KITCHEN, it’d be better if they were in the bin.”
Housemate #5: “You have no right to touch my stuff!”

I attempt to unease these common situations by trying to put together house meetings so we can air out our differences and put down some guidelines for us all to follow, but getting six people into one room for at least ten minutes seems to be next to impossible, I’d have more luck building my own house out of larger cans at the bottom of my garden – with running water and central heating. I’m only attempting to put forward some sort of democracy, so we can all have input. But I’m fed up with trying to get people to work together as a democracy; life would be easier if I imposed a dictatorship over my housemates. Now, I don’t want to get Hitlerish on people, but if I’m the only one that cares, I might have to. Imposing my oppressive regime on my very own housemates may seem a little harsh to some, but I just want to live in a house that abides to rules and regulations I lay down. I have good ideas and if everyone towed the line and followed them this house would be a much better place to live. The house would become a sort of totalitarian utopia, in which housework gets done and if it doesn’t people get taken outside and executed... for the greater good.

President Obama should be put on Trail for the Death of Dr. Lawrence Kutner

As the world worships the ground that Barack Obama walks on, many people have overlooked one extremely important fact; that the election of this man lead to the death of one of the greatest television characters of the past decade.

Dr. Lawrence Kutner was bought onboard the television show House. For those unfamiliar with this show, I pity you. House, although made by evil American television company; FOX (owned by Satan himself; Rupert Murdoch), is the best show on television. Now, some demented couch potatoes out there might be willing to disagree, maybe stating that LOST or Heroes are perhaps better. Well demented couch potatoes: YOU’RE WRONG. I too once had plenty of love for these television series’, but after Heroes took a massive nose dive after the first season and proceeded to not supply its audience with a decent fight scene between Sylar and Peter Petrelli, which we’ve all been waiting for and the writers keep building up to, I lost all faith. As for LOST, it’s kind of turned into a slutty girl that just leads you along, making you believe you’re going to get somewhere but you never do. It’s a prick-tease of a show. And to be honest prick-teasers aren’t my thing. For every question that gets answered, ten more questions need to be asked, it’s getting to the point were it’s mentally and physically exhausting to watch. (It’s also worth mentioning that both LOST and Heroes pale in comparison to The Wire – heroin in the medium of a television show)

Anyway, back to the best show on television; House is a drama based around a brilliant diagnostic doctor (Dr. Gregory House). While other drama’s about doctors or hospitals suck more cock than a crackhead in desperate need of a fix, House shines through and stands out amongst the other shit as if it was a piece of luminous, gold sweetcorn. With lovable characters, extravagant diseases/medical conditions, medical jargon for days, witty lines and the Holmes/Watson style friendship Dr. Gregory House and his best friend; Dr. Robert Wilson share it makes the likes of other medical dramas such as Grey’s Anatomy, ER or Private Practice about as much fun as dying in a NHS hospital hallway while you wait for a bed.

Dr. Gregory House, employs a team to help him with his work, this is how we get on to Dr. Lawrence Kutner.

After House sacked his original team, he began to put together another one. Enter Kutner. Even in the early stages, when House had about 40 interns fighting for only three jobs, Kutner was standing out. Maybe it’s because he was ultra cool, maybe it’s because he set a patient on fire (using a defibrillator in a hyperbaric chamber) or maybe it’s because he was brown. Either way, Kutner stood out. Finally Kutner made it down to the final three and won himself (a well deserved) place on House’s team alongside the Jew and the lesbian.

But how does Barack Obama fit into all of this?

Well, the delightful Dr. Lawrence Kutner was portrayed by Kal Penn. During the run up to the last American election, Penn was a member of Obama’s National Arts Policy Committee. Upon Obama’s election, Penn was offered the position of Associate Director of the White House Office of Public Engagement in the Obama administration. Which he accepted. This then lead to his character committing suicide for an unknown reason.

If I’d have known that the election of Barack Obama would have bought about such an action I’d have been against him from the get go. I now actually wish McCain had have won so Kal Penn would have never been offered a job in the White House and Kutner would still be alive. Yes, with McCain in office the world would be in a much more terrible place. McCain wouldn’t have the skills to get America and the rest of the world out of this economical gloom, he looks as if he struggles to get himself out of bed every morning, so a whole getting a whole country out of a recession would have been impossible. Plus, McCain would have probably sent American troops to go to war with Vietnam, just because he still holds a grudge. But now I’m the one with the grudge, against the “most powerful man in the world”.

I can’t believe Obama was awarded a Nobel Peace Prize, when he has the blood of Dr. Lawrence Kutner on his hands. It makes me sick. When Bush was President, there was plenty of blood on his hands too. Bush’s actions resulted in the death of innocent Iraqis, innocent Afghans, American troops and British troops, but to be fair to him, nobody on House died as a result of his actions in power, so I’m starting to see a more positive side to him, too bad he’s gone now, probably skipping around Texas trying to catch butterflies in a net or something.

To be honest, it doesn’t matter what Barack Obama does; gets the world out of the recession, brings peace in the Middle East, ends World Poverty, cures AIDs or comes around to my house with a bag of money for me! None of these will make up for being the reason behind the death of Kutner. This is why President Barack Obama should be put on trail for the death of Dr. Lawrence Kutner. Then, when he’s found guilty by a jury of his peers he should be forced to build a time machine and go back in time to before the election and tell the 2008 Obama to lose the election to John McCain, or he could go further back and lose the Democrat election to Bill Clinton’s wife, or go further back and just murder his mother and father to stop his own conception taking place. I don’t care how he fucking does it; I just want Dr. Lawrence Kutner back on House.

Something NEW, Just For YOU

Well I’m back, not that I ever left, but anyway, I’m here again, I suppose.

A handful of people have been asking when I’m going to write something new so I thought I would. Not that I have anything to write about, but hey, you probably have nothing better to read, that’s why you’re here.

I’d like to respond to some recent allegations made about me, so that’s what I’m going to do;

“I’ve got nothing to write about.”
Although this is sometimes true, seeing as I just stated that myself a couple of milliseconds ago, it’s not always the case. There’s always something to write about, it’s just that I can’t be bothered sometimes. I do have a life; a job, university, a girlfriend (sorry ladies ... and a couple of blokes) and a severe drinking problem. These things do take up a lot of my personal time, so there’s not always hours in the day to sit at my shitty PC (that’s inching ever-so-fucking-close to me kicking 50 Gigabytes of shit out of it) and come up with ideas and funny little things to rant about. Plus people only ever want to talk to me about my Blog when I haven’t done anything for a while, example; “You haven’t written anything in a while.” Fuck you! Where’s your fucking Blog? I never get positive feedback, I never hear; “Really liked your last Blog.” Instead I get; “You haven’t done much recently, and what I have read wasn’t that good.” Ins-fucking-piring moral building technique there! Let me just clarify that I’m not a fucking dancing monkey you flick peanuts at! I’m a fucking person, that has a hobby in writing, you don’t tell me when to write or what to write. All you do is sit on your fucking arse and read what I write and maybe chuckle if you find something funny.

“I’m not as funny because I’m happy.”
This little comment started to rear its ugly face about four months ago when I started going out with my girlfriend, because heaven forbid I get myself into a normal relationship. People say that misery loves company, they’re wrong, misery inspires comedy. I’ll be the first to admit that misery does make me a funnier person, but just because there’s no misery in my love life (yet), doesn’t mean I’m a happy go lucky person all of a sudden. I’m a miserable person, there’s always something that will bring misery to me. If I was ever to reach a point in my life were I was truly happy, I’d climb a high building and declare it to the world then jump to my death. Because happiness is a fleeting thing, a bit like diarrhoea, one day you have it, the next day you don’t. Gone in a flush. So if I was to ever be truly happy with my life, I’d end it, because unlike that song, things could only get worse. Happiness could only turn back into misery, so you may as well go out on top like a drug addled prostitute doing the reverse cowgirl position on a client as her heart stops.

Anyway, it’s nice to be back. And it’s nice to be able to post something for all you guys to be critical about. I’m looking forward to the feedback. I understand it’s not much, but it’s just something new for you. And while it not measure up to previous Blogs, soon enough this dancing monkey will be entertaining you again, so next time bring some fucking peanuts.