Nosebleed

Saturday I'm running wild,

All the lights are changing red to green,

Moving through the crowd I'm pushing,

Chemicals are rushing in my bloodstream ..

Today I had a nosebleed in my Core German class.

I feel my body deserves a medal for its timing, I mean it really went above and beyond.

It was just as we were going round the group to hear various responses to a presentation we'd just seen; the circle got to me and my nose conveniently started to bleed, meaning I got to skip the end of a fairly pointless seminar sneezing pintfuls of blood in the Parkinson Building toilets.

When that becomes an enjoyable alternative to education, you know you're ready to graduate.

If I could enhance this power, I could cut short all boring seminars by at least 20 minutes. If your nosebleed can be stopped with 2 minutes pinching and a quick dab here and there, then your nose is a fucking weakling.

If, or when, it reaches the point wherby I can summon nosebleeds at will, I'll be an unstoppable tour de force whenever I have lessons. The lecturer will look over in expectance of some valid contribution to our discussion, or wait for the answer to their question. And I'll calmly place my index finger firmly over one of my nostrils and go Mount St. Nosebleed all over the desk.

Noesbleed related success in future classes is paramount to the friends I'll probably lose as a result.

Y'all take it easy.

Chief

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend

Somewhere along in the bitterness,

And I would have stayed up with you all night,

Had I known how to save a life ..

Today I called someone "Chief".

This is a step up from 'mate', which I use for everything, from friends, strangers and inanimate objects round the house. It's also an improvement on 'boss', a word I picked up while working in the pub. That got used mostly for customers who seemed gruff and alcoholic, now I use it more often for helpful cashiers, gruff or not.

But chief?

Who calls people 'chief'?

It was in the garage down the road from my house. I bought a mobile top up voucher and a tasty drink, and I ended the transaction by saying "thanks chief" to the bloke behind the counter. And I kicked myself as I turned away, as I realised he was kind of asian-indian looking. Had I just nonchalantly insulted him by taking the Indian thing a step further? He either hadn't noticed or was too confused to call me on it.

Words like mate, boss and chief are a testament to my laziness. I see you, I know you, half of you I've known for the best part of four years, but I'm just too busy and too fucking lazy to call you by your name. I'm focusing on other, incredibly imprtant things. Too busy to think of your name, chief.

Anyway, how often do you use someone's name in a conversation anyway? Chief can be a way of mixing things up. Now you know.

And knowing is half the battle, chief.

Enthusiasm for dicks

Valley's deep and the mountains's so high,

If you want to see God you've got to move on the other side,

If you stand up there with your head in the clouds,

Don't try to fly, you know you might not come down ..

I feel that I've entered some sort of wormhole or some fortnight-long coma. Where has February gone? Last I checked it was about the 5th and I was struggling with a torrent of work. Then Rip van Dickhead suddenly looked up and realised it was the 23rd. This tends to happen every time at least three deadlines are all in the same week, its a bit like I've just got out of Shawshank and realised the world has become all fast and in a big hurry. Admittedly I'm a little more Red than I am Brooks.

More Shawshank references, anyone?

My French class was cancelled today, meaning a blissful 2 hours free and making dragging myself out of bed at half eleven somewhat redundant. I went up to the German department in my free period to talk to Ingrid, one of my module coordinators and had possibly one of the best, most awkward and most hilarious lecturer conversations of the last four years. Just to get it in some sort of context, my project for this module is based on the art of a bloke called Otto Dix, who I did a presentation on last week. Our conversation was as follows.

Me: "Ingrid, did you get my email with my presentation powerpoint and handout attached?"

Ingrid: "I did, thankyou very much. Did you get all my feedback?"

Me: "Yes, it was very helpful. I think it'll really help me focus the project a little more and make it a little less vague."

Ingrid: "Well, your presentation went very well, your enthusiasm for Dix really came through" (read this sentence out loud)

Silence.

Me: "My enthusiasm for Di .. oh, right. Yeah"

Ingrid: "I need to be more careful don't I? It can be a little tricky talking about Dix."

Me: "I'm uncomfortable"

The last line wasn't really there, but it was certainly running through my head. Both of us were laughing too much at this point to really form any kind of counterpoint, but when someone nonchalantly points out what they perceive to be your enthusiasm for dicks, there isn't really any going back.

We're seeing more of these presentations today actually. Without sounding like a twat, nobody really wants to sit and listen to other peoples presentations. If this module had an exam, it might be useful, but seeing as we've picked our own projects and done our own research, it seems a little redundant. I feel sorry for everyone who had to sit through mine and my overwhelming enthusiasm for dicks.

I start to zone out during presentations. They're never uninteresting, its just that stuff which isn't relevant to me doesn't exactly make me Curious George. This is occasionally the case in seminars, where I start to float away into a world of distraction, when all of a sudden I realise I've been asked a question. And I look up at the lecturer, the magic roundabout theme tune fizzles out, the monkey stops banging its cymbals, and I realise I've been listing my favourite cereals in the margin of my notepad in lieu of taking part in a discussion of the German Student Movement.

Other than the attention span, I am a wonderful student.

As an endnote, if anybody feels like using google to find this blog using the most obscure and interesting search terms possible, please do so. It'll break the monotony of people searching for Bioshock porn.

Donut

Like a bridge over troubled water,

I will ease your mind ..

Did you ever watch that film, The Passion of the Christ? Remember when Judas betrays Jesus (spoiler alert) and he's tormented by those demons, whcih are kinda like humans but with distorted and creepy exaggerated features? There's a guy in this computer cluster a little bit like that. I don't think he's a demon, but he still creeps me out.

I'm a little sad at uni today because the Krispy Kreme stall has gone from in front of the union. The last time it was here, I split a box of twelve with Emma which we ate during a screening of some German film. I walked by the stall the other day and was sorely tempted to buy some. They had all the good ones. One girl also at the stall was pointing them out to her friend.

"Oooh, thats the one with the chocolate icing and .. that stuff".

"Custard?"

"Yeah, with the custard in the middle"

[Me, inserting myself shrilly into the conversation] "They are NOT MEANT to have custard. DON'T eat the ones with custard centres."

I don't believe in custard donuts. YOU ARE A DONUT. You do not also need to be a puddding that's served in a bowl. We ask far too much of our food. Jam is good, or rather, that weird pseudo-jam which isn't like what you get in a jar but which is perfect for donuts. Seriously though, some of the latest Krispy Kreme designs, the icing to donut ratio is off the chart. Like a horse ate a tub of sprinkles and painstakingly shat each one.

What else has been happening recently?

I went to a house party. We found this guy, who nobody seemed to know. He passed out early on so we played pissed person Buckaroo (everybody won, essentially) and had a little photo shoot.

Yes We Dan

Don't stop, make it pop,

DJ blow my speakers up,

Tonight, I'mma fight

'Til we see the sunlight ..

What's that? You go to the university of Leeds? Great.

LUU Elections are just round the corner, so on that day, please give your vote to Daniel Brooks for Activites Officer. Can we improve our union?

The campaign don't start 'til he walks in.

And if you don't go to the University of Leeds, hell, come along on voting day and pretend you do.

Wrecking Ball Operator

And when you're out there, without care,

Yeah, I was out of touch,

But it wasn't because I didn't know enough,

I just knew too much ..

If my life goes to pot after university, I'd like to become one of those guys that knocks down buildings with a wrecking ball. I don't know if that even exists as a thing anymore; do they just blow it up with dynamite on each floor and collapse it 9/11 style, or take it apart piece by piece? Is there some kind of license involved, perhaps a permission slip?

I imagine there are classes. Like a driving test and theory test for cars, except instead of learning to indicate and brake properly, you're taught how to stop a building falling on you. If I ever make a great deal of money, I'll buy a wrecking ball, and some buildings, just to knock them down. I don't imagine there's anyone who wouldn't get at least a bit of a kick out of such an endeavour.

Maybe there are. There are probably people in the world who operate wrecking balls who are bored shitless of it. They spend long hours destroying buildings, pondering wistfully about playing Opus 10 by Chopin to a well dressed audience, or serving haute-cuisine in an up-market parisian restuarant. If only he knew there were people like me to which he could give his job.

That's pretty much all I have for you. I walked into town yesterday to deliver a hat and a pair of gloves to my sister for her to take home to my dad (sounds rather Dickensian in retrospect) and I stopped at McDonalds for the first time in ages. I had a big Mac. And I wasn't aware of this, but apparently big Mac's are now made out of cancer. The tastiest cancer there is, but fuck, my stomach was a wreck.

And walking back through Millenium square there was some sport playing on the big TV screen above the row of restaurants and bars, and the commentator said something to the effect of "whoever plays the best today and makes the fewest mistakes will win the game".

I don't know a great deal about sport, but I'm willing to bet that's some sharp analysis there.

More toilet etiquette and Imbolc

The camera won't let me go,

And the verdict doesn't love our soul,

The digital won't let me go ..

Saturday night was Imbolc, the Celtic festival of Spring. Armed with three 2 litre bottles of scrumpy cider, which for the record I could have refilled with my own piss and you wouldn't know the difference, I headed down to snowy snowy Marsden with Alex and Oli to get us some Pagan goodness. I maintain that one of the highlights of the night was our impromptu gathering of a motley crew of homeless people, broad yorkshiremen, football hooligans and some black guys to share our scrumpy with on the train back to town.

However, what I really took away from Imbolc is people's toilet etiquette. Or lack thereof. I lamented a few posts back about when people shut the bathroom door behind them when they leave, leading the next desperate person to hop around thinking its occupied. This example is more of a house thing, today's focuses more on public toilets. I'd like to take a minute to discuss this with you.

This one's for the guys. I think I've only ever used the women's toilet once, on an Otley Run, pissed as a fart in a homemade frog outfit. However, I am well versed in the protocol of the gents toilet.

Today we're gonna learn about urinal etiquette, following an experience at a pub at Imbolc. Let's imagine you're me, after a couple of pints. You need to pee something terrible. But, just as you're off to the loo, another bloke has the same idea as you. You go in first, hold the door for him, he follows. The cubicle is occupied. There are 3 empty urinals.

Let's approach this together, shall we. You both need to pee. There are three urinals. What do you do?

98% of men know the answer to this, instinctively. It's a base thing, like eating and breathing. If you're a guy, you will understand the etiquette involved: you keep at least one 'courtesy urinal' between you.

This is as much of a comfort thing than it is a practical thing. Maybe there's something in our subconscious thinking "this guy is gonna stare at/grab at my cock whilst I pee, so I'll keep him at a safe distance just to be sure".

If it's not that, then it's the old (but no less valid) worry of "this guy looks like one of those bizarre guys who nonchalantly looks up at the ceiling when he pees, ignoring his aim, whereby the piss splashback is maximised by the angle at which it hits the porcelain and I get a mini shower".

But, the bloke from the other night, who we'll call Sir Alan Sugar, was either unaware or unconcerned about such problems. I took the urinal on the left, fully expecting our hero to take the one on the far right, leaving a middle urinal buffer zone.

But no, Sir Alan takes the one in the middle, like an amateur.

And we pee together, shoulder to shoulder, while the guy in the cubicle farts to remind us that he's still there and we couldn't even have waited for him to finish in order to pee privately even if we'd wanted to.

I'd like to clarify, I have no real problem peeing next to somebody. I don't get stage fright, or my bladder doesn't pack up or anything like that. But I also believe that certain situations shouldn't have to be experienced by anyone, least of all anybody who may have been drunker than me and therefore more scared. This post is essentially an instruction. Pick the right urinal.

This was pretty much what was going through my head at the time. Sir Alan Sugar wasn't in my good books. And halfway through his pee, he coughed kind of loudly and distractingly. I took this as a means of conversation starter, so I took the only logical course of action: I grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and slamed him into the wall, like in Terminator.

That's a lie. No, I actually just turned to him and screamed "no talking!" and accidentally peed on his shoes in my moment of vitriol.

No, I actually just finished my wee and left. This post isn't to say that nothing interesting happened at Imbolc, but the fact that this remains one of the more memorable moments highlights the importance of weeing etiquette. Take note.

Capture the flag

Windmill windmill for the land,

Turn forever in your hand,

Take it all on in your stride,

It is sticking, falling down ..

Last night was certainly a contender for one of the best birthday nights out ever attended. In an awesome contrast to drinking and going out somewhere, 40-50 people turned up in leeds city centre to play real-life Capture The Flag, spanning from Park Row, the road leading up from the station, all the way to Vicar Lane where the market is, with a 'no man's land' by W H Smiths on Albion street. We divided into two teams, red and blue, all with respective headbands, placed our flags and played.

Apart from reminding me how unfit I am, it also made me realise, 1. the camaraderie aspect thing that makes people join gangs and, 2. these situations really do cultivate Lord-of-the-Flies style leadership struggles, where you see people really getting into it and emerging as the most charismatic or whatever. We scared and impressed a fair few bystanders while legging out through the streets in matching headbands screaming Spartan-esque war chants, but it was well worth it.

The only negative bits were when the fastest guy on blue team went full pelt into a lamppost and twatted his face on it right at the end of the last game, which was scary for 5 minutes but he turned out to to be ok (we called out an ambulance just to be sure) and about 45 minutes into the first game when some chavs nicked the red flag, which said a great deal about our defenders.

Nights results: 1 broken shoe, 1 knackered foot, 1 massive adrenaline rush.

All that, and we made it in time for last orders at the Union.

Fassblocked

Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away,

Beating like a drum and it's comin' your way ..

The right people will understand that.

I watched X Men: First Class yesterday and was rightfully impressed. We fancied ourselves a night in with a film, and Dan had just bought that one, so we picked up some strong strong cider and had a quiet tipsy one. I know for certain that it was a tipsy one because my memory of the film becomes hazier around the two-thirds mark. We had a laugh over the guy who can create whirlwinds (kind of like a shit version of Storm from the previous films) who we nicknamed 'Captain Wind', which I now realise is pretty crap when both typed and sober.

I also attribute the invention of other new phrases such as "Fassblocked" to the alcohol. 'Fassblocked' is again probably only best in the context of 10 seconds or so of First Class and is an amalgamation of 'cockblocked' and 'Michael Fassbender'. Cockblocked by Michael Fassbender: Fassblocked. Nobody likes being cockblocked, but if I were to be cockblocked, I'd let it slip if it were Michael Fassbender.

While on topic, Hollywood filmmakers should have a betting pool on who will be the first to make a film with a language that Michael Fassbender can't speak fluently.



"I was occupied jacking off while her camera perished"

You want me to come over, I got an excuse,

Might be holding your hand but I'm holding it loose,

Go to talk, then we choke, it's like our necks in a noose,

Avoid the obvious, we should be facing the truth ..

Just been perusing my traffic sources for the week and came across a great sounding website, dailystrength.org. As usual it has no link whatsoever to my blog per se, it's just a kind of 'referral' website. So, spam. This particular website was where people upload queries or just entries like this one for public viewing. I'd like to thank whichever spam programme linked the following page to my blog somehow. This is copied and pasted.

"Wifebucket

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Some help it become a Sunday habit to attend church, but mine is usually to watch my favourite pornstar site wifebucket. This is the sole time I can certainly appreciate my top pornstar gal because during the weekdays, I am typically tired from perform. On Saturdays, my friends go out at our location. Every Sunday my flatmates head over to their families that's why is it doesn't best time for me to do anything I want. I am the King from the TV that day which enable it to watch as a lot of pornstar clips as i want.

I love seeing girl to girl action that's why I managed to get a huge assortment of lesbian pornstar movies which features my personal top five lesbian pornstar Sunny Leone, Kimberly Kane, Stormy Daniels, Jana Cova as well as Aria Giovanni. Damn, these chicks really realize how to eat each other out and in addition they got some wild moves that will only be welcomed in a lesbian adult porn.

My friend also let me use his computer well, i get to include my cybersex immediately after my porn treatment. pornstar gall had a difficult time watching girls in cam that's why I went to a porn site. There was that pornstar gal that we chatted with and showed me the woman's best bits. I was occupied jacking off while her camera perished. She told me I want to put in our debit card details correctly to continue in order to verify my get older. Fuck, since I was so horny Used to do that right out then continued masturbating. She started eradicate her pussy whilst licking her tits. I was going to cum when her camera turned off again and won't wide open anymore. Oh fuck! I got cheated! They charged my own debit card devoid of me knowing it now I am penniless along with got blue projectiles. After, that incident I never did another cybersex with virtually any pornstar again. I'll just should find horny girls who'd give me a free show."

Wow.

I'm still trying to work out which bits are my favourites.

"that's why is it doesn't best time for me to do anything I want". I imagine this was grammatically correct in his head.

"She started eradicate her pussy". e·rad·i·cate [ih-rad-i-keyt] - 'to remove or destroy utterly'. I accept there's a lot of slang involved in porn and exaggeration can probably work if you do it right, but fucking hell, I don't think anyone's ever used "eradicate" in this context before.

"I am penniless along with blue projectiles". This has to be my favourite.

Underneath this there's a little box whereby one can rate whatever entry/query they've just read; options left to right are: "Inspirational - Moving - Helpful - Creative". If I were a member, I'd give it all four. "In order to verify my get older" is the most creative thing I've read all day. And it's pretty helpful in the sense that young people everywhere are now aware that porn sites aren't always honest. Even if you put in your credit card details, that webcam session might still "perish".

And boy, if an anecdote about skipping church to jack off to porn on your mate's laptop, only to be tricked into paying by the pussy-eradicating harlot isn't both moving and inspirational, I don't know what is.

Gay reality shows and cops who are secretly burglars

And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland,

Or sell love to another man,

It's too cold outside,

For angels to fly ..

I've still never actually listened to Ed Sheeran, despite his burgeoning gingery success. I also live with his cousin. Just sayin'.

There's a new reality show on E4 called Playing it Straight. The premise is that 11 guys and 1 girl live together in a house in Spain and all the guys do datey things and various challenges, potentially leading up to the girl choosing one of them. One guy is asked to leave every week. Now, the twist: Some of the guys are gay. But, neither we or the girl know exactly which of the guys prefer cock until she chooses to vote them off.

If she ultimately ends up with one of the straight guys, each of them win 25 grand. But, if she pulls one of the gays, he wins the entire 50,000. So if the gays want to win, they have to masculine the fuck up and pretend they like women, hence "playing it straight". We all agreed that any gay bloke worth his salt would live up to the sensitive stereotype and share the cash, if that were the case.

This programme pretty much confirms E4's rising status as a BBC3-esque trial area, where shows with the shittest premise are aired to just kinda test the water. My suggestion for this programme would have been to make all the guys gay, and the girl a lesbian. Then they could have marketed it as a "breaking down stereotypes and prejudices" programme, as opposed to the watchable crap it is at the moment. I can feasibly see it becoming a new monday night ritual.

Depressingly this has been a highlight of a pretty boring day. I handed in all my essays, which didn't actually incur as much "thank god thats out of the way" feeling that I'd hoped for, especially after the woman made me re-write all my hand-in slips because they were in pencil. She was probably just bitter that she'd been assigned to bitch-duty on essay deadline day. Then I went home, had a nap and drew a picture of my housemate shooting a zombie.

Me and Kellie also saw what looked like a bunch of cops loading up their van with stuff they'd just burgled from a house. It hardly looks like an investigation when the police are carrying out car seats and what looked like a washing machine and then driving off with them. They definitely saw us watching them, but they probably figured "fuck it, we're cops". The van also had a broken tail-light, which only added to our theory that something was amiss. We'll give them the benefit of the doubt for the time being, but if the house is reported as burgled in the next few days, and the police mysteriously have no leads, I'll be pretty certain that tonight we witnessed the perfect crime.

Upcoming films

Seagulls sing your hearts away

Cause while the sinners sin, the children play ..

I finished my essays!

And just for the sake of convenience, the university printer network has decided to go on the fritz the morning of the hand in day. Some among you would call this karma, that is, churning out essays in zero hour instead of spending meticulous time and care and then being unable to print it. What a pedantic little twat karma is.

I was talking to Dan earlier about upcoming films this year. I have a lot of confidence in 2012 as far as films go, but it still feels kinda weird that it's actually 2012 in that respect; I've watched so many trailers and read so much stuff about films that are gonna be released at some point this year, which at the time felt like ages away but now its actually here. Its a good feeling.

In no particular order:

• The Dark Knight Rises
• War Horse
• The Avengers
• The Hobbit
• Halo: Faith
• The Amazing Spider-Man
• Brave
• The Expendables 2
• The Dictator

What I will warn against, oddly, is watching too many trailers. A surprisingly retarded amount of major plot details are leaked, far more so I reckon than used to be. Even saying stuff like "and the surprise ending will really take you by surprise!" is stupid. If you tell me the ending is gonna be a surprise, I'm gonna spend the whole film trying to predict it, like in The Sixth Sense. "The kid is the only living one! No, wait .. everyone's dead! No, wrong again! Bruce Willis is dead! And that woman is actually a guy!"

The other annoying thing is biased critic reviews. Noit biased in the sense that they loved a film whereas I thought it was shit, rather the kind of semi-corrupt media ownership aspect. People like Roger Ebert, who got special favours like a one-on-one interview with George Lucas after Phantom Menace came out. I think he still gets paid off by Disney as well. See if you can find a negative review of a Disney film from Roger Ebert. His review of Up was basically just him wanking onto a balloon.

officially 2012

We two have run about the slopes,

And picked the daisies fine,

But we've wandered many a weary foot

Since Auld Lang Syne ..

2012 is the first year that I feel comfortable calling it "twenty ______". I've tried for the last two years but I think this is the year that we're finally breaking this century in, meaning I can now freely use the "twenty ______" format without it sounding odd or needlessly complicated, something that Jeremy Paxman never realised. Seriously, "twenty eleven"?

Whatever the case, it's officially 2012.

This is the best thing I've seen all year.

Happy New Year

The falling alcohol empire is here to hold you,

Rolling out and haunted til it sinks ..

So 2011 is nearly finished and done with, certainly a contender for being one of the best years so far. Went out for some pre-celebrations in Huddersfield last night, involving being let into Camel Club for free after bantering with the manager outside, fat cigars at the Parish and an 8 and a half mile walk home.

For the sake of what's expected, I'll throw down some New Years resolutions.

• Walk back from Huddersfield less
• Do Uni work in the daytime; be less nocturnal
• Make Kellie more tea first thing in the morning
• Teach the dog to speak German

Stay classy, 2012.

Pure laziness

Up on melancholy hill,

There's a plastic tree,

Are you here with me?

Just looking out on the day of another dream ..

Hello, how are you on this goodest of thursdays?

Uni work over christmas should be illegal. Granted, I'm not in the same position as other people who have January exams on top of essays and stuff, but seriously, it's still balls. The really annoying thing is comparing how fastidious I was at uni to how I am now. My good buddy Alex came round the other day to do some work. We averaged 40 words an hour. I used to work a lot and get stuff done, but now that the work output's lost its momentum, all I really want to do is put a bullet in its head because its broken its leg.

I think the second part of that sentence could be a decent rap lyric. Any young, black, fledgling rappers who might be reading, feel free to use that one. Just credit me on the back of the CD. Motherfucker.

I've gotten lazy on all fronts recently. Well, I was already lazy, so I don't know what that means I've become. I blame Leeds for this feeling of waking up post 10.30 am and not feeling like doing squat all day. I keep telling myself that these essays aren't gonna write themselves, but damn, you try writing 2000 words in German about the link between the German student movement and black power in America. Not gonna happen.

That said, home is forcing me to live with some semblance of reality, namely eating well and not taking the occasional piss in the sink because it's the closest thing with a drain.



Boxing day emails

But there's one thing I know,

The blues he sends to meet me won't defeat me,

It won't be long til happiness steps up to greet me ..

Happy boxing day everyone. Go on, go and pick at yesterdays leftovers. Pick at them good.

I just checked my old email account, the one that I haven't used or checked in about 6 months. It's the one we all have, the one we made when we were 14 with an email address that was so hilarious or relevant at the time which you look back on now and want to kick your childhod self. Anyway, the account was full of junk. My favourite ones were "Did asbestos cause bladder cancer? You may receive compensation" and "Would you be a good lawyer?"

I would be a crap lawyer. When I'm under pressure, I say ridiculous shit and then try and dig my way out, only most of the time I lose momentum or interest and don't really stick to my guns anymore. Then later, after I've given it a little thought, I can formulate some pretty good rational arguments. But that still wouldn't be great for a lawyer, because by that time my client would probably be getting raped in the prison shower.

I've nothing else really to say today, because vegging out, eating food and watching telly doesn't really conjure up noteworthy stories. I can't really think of anything further.

I love my lady lumps.

What an awesome line. I imagine that's a pretty inspiring line for women everywhere.

Christmas shopping couples

Birds singin' in the sycamore trees,

Dream a little dream of me ..

It's been brought to my attention that a fair few people read this occasionally and there are some things I say which apparently I should have held back on, lest people see me in a new, frightening light. Since freedom of speech is still a liberty in its own right, the only viable alternative would be to start a new, super secret blog with one of those "offensive material" disclaimers, in which to share all the things that people don't like here.

Couples can be incredibly annoying, right? Annoying couples seem to be far more abundant in Huddersfield than in Leeds. People who feel the need to do absurd couple stuff in public suck. I think we can make 3 distinct categories, most of which can be seen around McDonalds and Poundland in Huddersfield.

1. The "let's make out in public so people can learn from us" couple - probably the most annoying of the three, usually 16 year olds at Greenhead college. They kiss excessively, feeling each other up, to affirm just how in love they are. Please, cut out your tongues so I can put my cigarette out on them.

2. The "we replace each others names with 'baby' or 'sweety'" couple - "Baby, we bought the wrong one", "Well then baby, let's go and take it back" "Aw baby, but then I have to go back to the shop" "It's alright sweety, I'll come with you."

Baby, for the love of everyone who isn't you, shut the fuck up. Obsessive use of baby isn't cute, it's just irritating.

3. The "we're fighting in public but you're not meant to notice" couple - I'd just come out of waterstones in Huddersfield the other day and I heard the line "fuck you and that skanky bitch whore". Now call me Curious George, but hearing the words fuck, skanky, whore and bitch all in the same sentence does just pique my curiosity.

And I glanced at them as I walked past to try and catch a look at the happy pair, and the speaker, some scary looking chav-hag, politely asks if I want to "mind my own fucking business". Mind my own business? Listen up Peggy Sue, last I checked Jeremy Kyle wasn't staging a fucking drop-in session on Huddersfield high street. Do it in the privacy of your own insanity.

It's christmas eve tomorrow, so I'm gonna take this opportunity to wish everyone a happy christmas. I hope you get everything you asked for and wake up with a happy hangover.

Man crush.

She will always be the only thing

That comes between me and the awful sting,

That comes from living in a world that's so damn mean ..

Whaddup my African-Americans. Its 7am and I'm at uni. Word.

I feel it's been a while since I posted anything at all relevant or interesting on here for a while, unlike the old days when things were more fun, and I feel sad about that. It's not because I imagine anyone to be sitting there just mashing 'refresh' in the hope of something noteworthy (apart from Kellie, maybe) and sighing dramatically at anyone within earshot.* It's just because I know that uni won't finish for another 4 or 5 months, so this predicament isn't likely to be remedied anytime soon.

*I hate people that do this. Anyone else hate this? In public, when somethings wrong, and people try and make eye contact with you and draw you into their crazy. Aww, what's matter? Queue moving a bit slowly? Train delayed by 6 and a half minutes? I'm not thrilled about it either mate, but I'm not gonna make eye contact with you just so you can roll your eyes at me or do your dramatic sigh and make you think that we're in some little pissed-off club together.

Anyway, here I am, typing to keep the fires alive. You're important to me baby. Hows your week been so far? Mine's been fine.

I went to Hyde Park Picture House today to watch a film called 50/50. If you haven't seen it, do. It has Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen in it. How amazing a combination is that? The only thing it really proved is that Joseph Gordon-Levitt IS my man-crush. Remember this. If I stop fancying girls, JGL is the one I will go gay for. He is my man. It's a long shot, but jesus.

Disclaimer: open admittance of heterosexuality upon making a gay joke does not, in this case, make me gay by default.

That's another thing I like actually. Watching gay blokes pretend they're straight. Or, even funnier, watching straight guys affirm just how fucking not gay they are by emphasising it strenuously in front of everyone. Almost like I just did, but in real life; it's not as funny or effective in blog form. I'd never do it for real. Man, I'd rather be gay than straight and insecure.

I've just finished the first 1000 words of my dissertation, which I'm gonna email off tomorrow with fresh eyes. I know this is the first draft of first drafts, as it were (though a large part of me just says this to rationalise it somehow in my head), but these first 1000 words are probably shit.

leave the door open yeah?

I've been working on a cocktail called Grounds for Divorce,

WhhoooOOOOooooOOOOOoooooahhh ...

Doubt comes in on sticks but then he kicks like a horse,

WhhoooOOOOooooOOOOOoooooahhh ...

I like to think I've done that song justice with the way I typed the lyrics.

Are you one of those people who goes to other people's houses, or maybe even just at home, who goes for a pee and then shuts the door behind themself when they leave? If so, why do you do that? If someone else needs a wee, they're gonna come along, see that ol' closed door and assume its occupied. I understand if you'd just been for a dump, but just a pee? How bad can that smell?

If you are one of these people, do desperate toilet-goers a favour and stop it.

Gay Italian dads

When I wake up in the morning, love,

And the sunshine hurts my eyes,

And something without warning, love,

Bears heavy on my mind ..

I'm back in my favourite computer cluster again.

I was working earlier when two blokes and a little kid came in. This was a pretty odd sight at 8pm in a university computer cluster, but I didn't really question it. The blokes were maybe mature students and as far as I'm aware, gay and speaking Italian. The little kid spoke English and Italian and didn't seem to have a sexual preference.

One of the Italian guys, who we will call Luigi, is wearing this shirt with "God made weed. Figure that out!" written on it. Figure out how god made weed? I don't get it. The other one, who we'll call Mario, had a t-shirt with "AMSTERDAM" written on it. It gave me an idea for a sitcom called "My two gay Italian dads who like to get high". The kid, about 5, who we'll call Tony, thankfully wore a shirt without a stoner motif.

The guy they sat next to was British. He was alone in here, like me, with these thick black chunky glasses and a little mini-fro. He looked like he read Hemingway and had aspirations to be a poet or novelist.

Anyhow, they're all sitting there in the row in front. Luigi reaches into his bag and started taking out some food.

Now, I'm all for breaking the 'no food and drink' rules in computer clusters, but this was really untrue. Out of the bag came sandwiches, big bags of kettle chips, fruit, one of those tubs of mini-flapjacks, a flask, 2 cans of Relentless and other assorted bits. It was like the Mary Poppins bag; it could almost have been a stunt. Hemingway, unlike me and 10 or so other people in the cluster who are watching with our mouths slightly open at the sight of all this food (munchies joke, anyone?) continues to work, apparently oblivious.

Mario then takes a can of Relentless, and hands it to Tony. The thing had either been shaken up good and proper or Tony was shit at opening cans, because without warning the thing suddenly fizzes out and over and a jet of energy drink hits Hemingway squarely in the face. Upon seeing this, the kid goes "ooh" and drops the can, where it fizzes and spills round on the floor, meaning Hemingway has to jump up in full view of the cluster, dripping Relentless, to avoid it. This was where the humiliation factor kicked in.

I felt bad for the guy, but he took it pretty well. You can't really get mad at a cute little kid in a computer room, not least one with two mysterious high Italian dads. They're just unpredictable. And then Mario tried to laugh it off a bit, and Luigi joined in, which seemed a little too optimistic, but they were probably high, who can blame them?

The saddest part was that it happened to this guy. It could have happened to anyone else in that cluster. If it had been a group of guys, they'd have got a kick and more of a laugh out of it. If it was a girl, everyone would have rushed to her aid. But instead it was Hemingway, probably a Fresher, a little self-conscious, maybe the first time he's dared to venture out of his halls to a computer cluster, and the first thing that happens is he gets sprayed in the head by a kids can of energy drink, in front of a small crowd.

They say university can be tough but no-one deserves to be humiliated by an Italian kid with his two gay dads that are high.

Euthanasia and my new haircut

Like a bird on the wire,

Like a drunk in a midnight choir,

I have tried in my way to be free ..

So I got a haircut recently, months and months after I promised myself one. I had it done in Huddersfield, as always, purely because it's the same woman and we have crappy hairdresser conversations that amount to nothing but pass the time beautifully. It must've been the 5th or 6th time she's done it now and although I still haven't got to the point where I can stroll in and ask for "the usual", she still always asks "what are we having today then?" in a way which suggests she can sense the same-old answer.

One day I'll surprise her. I'll go back in about 4 or 5 months and she'll be all "What's it gonna be this time?" and I'll respond with "Hitler youth". Just for the reaction. Or challenge her; "Yeah, I'd like two donkeys fucking under a sunset shaved into the back".

The only thing I've really learnt is that my new shorter hair doesn't respond well to spending the day under a bobble hat.

Recent stats checks show a hit yesterday from getdentalimplantsinfo.com" and 3 hits for "80s crisps". These don't quite measure up to the current champion "european romantic mild porn" which came up a few months back, but they're the best ones of late.

When I was roaming round uni earlier, I caught the briefest of snippets of a conversation of two people walking by. All I heard was "yeah, but the worst thing that can happen is you'll die". I wanted to know what came before that, and after a lot of walking-home-deliberation, it strikes me that there aren't a great many scenarios where dying is the worst thing. I feel worse things would be stuff like paralysis, brain damage, becoming a vegetable trapped in your body or maybe a coma.

I feel I can't bring much to the euthanasia debate. In my opinion, we should pull the plug. I understand the family and friends holding out for a glimmer of hope; thats pretty much by-the-by. I don't really understand the religious angles on this sort of thing, which is that we shouldn't do it because only God can take a life. To these people I say: maybe God is saying "hey, can you pull the plug? I've been trying to take this person for 5 years but you keep feeding them."

Consider this my will. If that ever happens to me, I wouldn't like to be kept alive. I'd feel bad for my family having to take care of me. Unless Kellie or Dan offer to adopt me, then just pull the plug.

I have an idea for a sitcom about a guy in a coma and his carer, and whenever the carer's back's turned, the coma guy gets up to zany antics behind his back. But, you ask, how does he do zany stuff when he's in a coma? That's it! He's not really in a coma! The other guy just thinks he is! When his back's turned, zany shit goes down! "Zany" is how critics will describe this sitcom!

There will also be a neighbour, some sassy precocious black kid who knows the coma guy's secret. He'll be played by Jaden Smith. He'll walk in and go "What up, veg?" to which coma guy will respond "West-siiiiiiide" because thats how he imagines black kids talk. And inbetween the zany antics, there'll be life lessons about not judging people because of the colour of their skin, played out in the form of the banter between coma guy and the black kid, Tyrone.

Helmed by J.J.Abrams, this will be bold television.

Christmas

I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now,

But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singing to me now ..

That film Knowing was on telly the other night. What an anti-climax that was.

It started off well, with some great special effects and some half decent acting. And then somewhere down the line, somebody stole the film's plot, ate it, shat it out and wiped it all over the last third or so of the film. Not since Kubrick has there been such a poor attempt to meld science fiction, piss-poor science and a healthy religious undertone in a way which doesn't scream 'trying too hard'.

The only redeeming feature was watching the poorly-executed shebang of a last third being incinerated by a solar flare. Oh, and the fucking terrifying disaster scenes. Like, genuinely. That bit with the plane messed me up good and proper.

For the sake of clarity, here is my christmas list 2011.

• Modern Warfare 3. Yeah, I'm a slave to Call of Duty but come on. That shit is good.
• A new belt. My current knackered one is still clinging to life but it's got past the stage where I can pretend it's vintage.

That's actually it so far. I'll keep updating as things come to mind.

It's come round to that point on the eve of christmassy stuff being acceptable where the political correctness thing comes into play. I forget where I read it this time round, but somewhere, the debates been re-opened as to the use of the word 'christmas' as opposed to such religion-neutral phrases as "The Winter Festival" or "The festive season". Stuff like this comes around each year because some hardcore atheist or Shinto worshipper tries to sue their local council for wishing them a merry christmas.

I know the governments not supposed to endorse one religion over another, but really, who fucking cares? Christmas isn't a religious holiday any more, it is a celebration of consumerism, of our love for material goods, a statement of our belief in capitalism. Gifts are always nice. Gifts are a sign of how much we love people. True, the price tag probably doesn't always equate to the amount of love being given, but I imagine generally there's some correlation. In the words of cheapskates throughout history the world over, it's the thought that counts.

The one regret I always have at christmas is the whole santa complex. How great did that used to make christmas? As a child, I believed both of those lies: number 1, that santa exists and number 2, that he will bring you presents if you're good. This lie began to unravel when you went to school a week later and you compared with the kids who were complete gobshites and they'd always got the best stuff (no disrespect to my parents, who always did great at christmas).

The paradoxical opposite of most peoples paranoid fantasies of losing all their stuff: an overweight guy breaks into your house to give you things.

But in the days when santa was real, you often began to wonder what you'd done wrong, or what kind of a fat cruel bastard santa was to reward these kids better than you.

I just had a brainwave; is that meant to be the message to set kids up for later life? If you do good, you'll be rewarded accordingly? Wow, I never even considered that til I spelt everything out. But meh, the only thing reality really seems to preach is that the cirumstances of your birth are the only real factor that affects what you get in life.

Professors and Kellie

If I could, then I would,

I'll go wherever you will go,

Way up high or down low,

I'll go wherever you will go  ..

We just had a seminar with two of the staff from our German department who are professors. Paul Cooke and Stuart Taberner. They're googleable, their list of books is longer than my lifes achievements. It was actually a really awesome seminar with lots of debating and shit, although it did just reinforce just how depressingly clever people can be and made me feel like a spaz.

In the first half, we were looking at pictures of corpses being cleared up in Auschwitz and bodies piled up after the firebombing of Dresden, debating what it meant to be a victim and what defined a clear-cut perpetrator. We had an hour of being mindfucked in this way, mainly involving us saying stuff which we thought sounded clever, usually followed by Stuart handing out shovels for us to dig our way out with. In the end, after some pretty good debating, we'd got to the point that we were just shouting out agreements to his logical sounding arguments until he pointed out that we'd all pretty much just relativised the Holocaust and made it sound acceptable. Don't fuck with professors.

I also managed to work in that I didn't like Pearl Harbor. Not everyone was impressed with that.

And now I'm back in the Bragg cluster, which has probably absorbed a part of me into it's permanent memory, because Kellie's writing an essay on a film and is waiting for me to post stuff about my life to distract her at the end of every paragraph she writes. The best part is, she's trusting me to hand the essay in for her tomorrow because she's cavorting around in London ill.

DISCLAIMER: Contrary to popular belief, Kellie is not scouse.

People are ridiculous at 4am

It's gonn' rain down like black hell,

You don't know what it's like to be dead,

I'mma teach you now, teach you well,

It's gonn' rain down like black hell ..

Top story on BBC news: "Justin Timberlake has kept a promise he made to a member of the US Armed Forces by escorting her to a ball on Saturday night".

Thank goodness for that.

I'm back at uni because my sleeping patterns still buggered. It's been another corker so far.

As I was walking into uni about an hour ago, some bloke shouted "hey!" as I got on campus. I had the initial pang of 'shit I'm about to get mugged' feeling you get just because you're alone and it's dark. I turned round and there was a guy over the road wearing a bicycle helmet but without a bike. I looked at him and he shouted "D'you know if there's a shop open near here?" And I told him no, with the most condescending look I could muster, the facial equivalent of "why are you asking, its 3 in the fucking morning", and "where's your bicycle you helmet-wearing moron?"

Not 5 minutes into reaching the cluster and logging on, another guy walks in and slumps into the chair next to mine. Alarm bells are ringing again because there are 40 other free computers in a room half the size of a sports hall. Am I about to get mugged in a computer cluster? Then he goes "Man, I've had such a terrible night". I think he was moving along the lines of me to follow up with "Aw, y'wanna talk about it champ?", but when its 4am and I'm in the swing of working, I don't really give two shits about anything short of a buffet opening outside.

Anyway, I think I grunted, probably with my eyebrows raised a little too high. Our conversation went as follows.

Guy: Yeah, sorry to bother you, I've just had a really terrible night.

Me: Uh-huh.

Awkward silence

Guy: Yeah, it's just been really bad.

Me: Shit ... (Silence goes on too long) .. what happened?

Guy: Just about everything (I fucking hate this response)

Me: Just before you carry on, nobody's died right? I dunno how to handle stuff like that.

Awkward silence. Guy just stares off into space. I start thinking oh fucknuts, someones died.

Guy: No, no-ones died. I just had a big argument with my girlfriend .. (dramatic pause, big intake of breath) .. it turns out she's pregnant.

Me, expecting something more overwhelming: .. Uh-huh .. (Regain composure) .. Ahh shit.

Guy: Yeah ..

Awkward silence

Me: There's worse things could happen though, right?

Guy: .. I guess.

And then he left, leaving me with an all too brief feeling of 'am I a terrible person?' I feel bad for his predicament but jesus he was annoying. There are worse things in the world than a pregnant girlfriend. Unless it's not his. Or maybe she has a very angry conservative family who've been saving her for marriage. Or maybe she's not pregnant at all, she was just using it as blackmail in the heat of their argument. Man, I should write a sitcom for these people.

One thing I realised during the beginning of the conversation was that I carried the thing on. There's a technique apparently that high pressure salesman use when trying to make a sale: at the end of their pitch, the salesman says nothing, and if the customer feels the need to continue the conversation and say something, the guy is more likely to make a sale. Apparently I'd be crap at rebuffing sales.

Just to deviate before I finish up I had a dream the other week where me and my good buddy Dan were working together in an office somewhere, and on that particular day, Hitler started working at the office. All I remember is that me and Dan were standing in some generic office environment and Dan turns to me and says, perfectly seriously "So, do we just call him Hitler or what?". I'm pretty sure this is one of the best dreams I've ever had.

Last thing: I also have to walk past some student halls on the way to the computer room I use. There was just general fresher noise as I went by, but as I got to the end, somebody started blasting out christmas music. It's November 15th. The fucking 15th. I enjoy christmassy music; it makes me want to frolic and reminds me of childhood, but this is entirely too early for christmas music. It's like someone singing you happy birthday a month and a half early. It's out of control. This is the time when we actually need the Grinch to steal christmas, or at the very least borrow it and then give it us back in a month or so.

Until it's colder, and December, I'll endeavour to be that Grinch.

Bert

It was twenty years ago today,

Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play,

They've been going in and out of style,

But they're guaranteed to raise a smile ..

Hey there. I'm in the library at uni and holy crap its half past 3 in the morning. That's actually real-time typing surprise there, I thought it was earlier than that. In any case, the work's going fantastic. Five minutes ago I yawned and a bit of drool landed on the keyboard.

Apart from being distracted by the internet, there's a bloke here in this computer cluster over the other side of the room who is having a phone call in French and also looks just like Bert from Sesame Street. If I had a camera I'd take a picture for you because I keep glancing across at him and suppressing giggles.

I mean really, all this guy needs is a rubber duck and a funny voice and he's Bert.

Gym guys

Let me take you down, cos I'm going to

Strawberry fields ..

I'm writing between seminars to report something ridiculous. I want it to be known from the outset that this is absolutely truthful and I'm re-telling it to the best of my memory.

I was just hanging outside the union, when a bunch of very sweaty gym guys, wearing shorts and t-shirts, one with a towel round his neck came and stood near me, clearly having just finished a work out. They started chatting, and to cut a long story short, one of the guys was very into rowing and weightlifting, and after a really intense workout probably involving a lot of sweating and grunting and adrenaline, he'd take a modified form of GHB, or the date rape drug, to bring him back down a bit. A quick bit of research online tells me this technique isn't actually as far-fetched as it sounds. This is kinda what grabbed my attention.

Anyway, they started talking about how it could be used as a date rape drug. The first guys just kind of have a general debate, and the weight-lifter rowing guy suddenly pipes up with - no word of a lie -:

"I have no idea why anyone would use it. Whenever I take it, it just makes me knackered, I'd hardly be in the mood to rape anyone."

. . .

Libya is free, or something

Some people go to church just to signify,

Trying to make a date with the neighbours wife,

Brother let me tell you sure as you're born,

You better leave that woman alone ..

Gaddafi is dead. In response to my previous post in which I told you all to be pro-active and be doing something awesome when he was killed, I'll have to confess that mine wasn't that awesome myself. I was eating a pasty between two German grammar classes. No doubt it was a good pasty, but still not the tale I'd have hoped for.

   

I'm back in the library at the moment, evidently working hard. We have a 51 page document in German to read and make notes on for Monday, which doesn't exactly make me want to cheer but at least it's one less thing to do "in a group" as seems to be the current trend for 4th year German at the university of Leeds, even in the giant, unmissable face of overwhelming student unenthusiasm for the idea.

When I was walking into uni, I walked past two kind of punky girls. Well, punky for this day and age. Say, Avril Lavigne in the early days sort of punky. One of them was telling her friend something very demonstratively, with lots of hand gestures.

"And we were all like yo. What the fuck is up with Pancho?"

 

I really wish I knew the rest of that story.

Uni is not the real world

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at the doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Today is one of those days that I wish I was a heroin addict, purely because it would mean I wouldn't be sat in the library researching crap I'm not interested in, I'd be at home lying naked on the floor next to my messed up girlfriend wondering where our baby was.

I've managed to descend into that uni bubble after only 3 weeks, the one where you become so wrapped up in studying and reading and just having to think about stuff, that anything non-related seems weird and kind of liberating. Me and the housemates went to Morrisons the other day in the car, and the general unspoken concensus was that this was possibly the most exciting thing we've done since starting uni. It's not that Kirkstall Morrisons is any better than the others; rather, it just serves as a reminder that yes, there is a life outside of university which is wonderful and for real people, and yes, one day we'll be a part of it.

I've been drawing fire of late for going down the 'wishing away my days at university' path, to the tune of "ohh, some day in the future you'll be praying for the student lifestyle again". Undoubtedly I will, at least once in my life, but if I never have to sit through another 2 hour seminar of German grammar or do some needless group related task on something irrelevant in German, I will die in a good mood.

Have any of you ever experienced the awkward phenomenon of homeless people asking for the time? It happened to me yesterday when I was in town. Interacting with the homeless is one of those things which you try and avoid despite the rudimentary aspect of guilt, and I reckon we've become conditioned to the point that you shrug off their advances at the earliest opportunity or simply stride on while glancing at your phone.

But this homeless guy, the one that sits opposite HSBC down Park Row, managed to get the whole eye contact thing going on and comes out with "Do you have the time?" And then there's me, all caught up in the moment and I just say "sorry mate", because that is what you say unless you have change and/or aren't in a hurry. But then the question clicks and I give him the time, in case he has appointments to keep with other homeless guys, irregardless of the fact that if he were to sit 50m up or down the road, there'd be a big fuck-off clock for him to see. Who knows.

I'm sure there was more I wanted to say .. maybe I'll think of it later on. If you'll excuse me, I have work to go and hate.