Rabbit rabbit rabbit.

I've been living in blissful ignorance. Happily walking around like the village idiot under the impression I had good social skills. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a total loony. I'm not the type of person that will stand and talk a little too loud about the modern miracle of the combustion engine while drinking some strange brew of beer with a not so funny comic name. No, I'm the kind of person that finds it hard to just start a conversation that will sustain a good converse. I try to plan what to say, but as I've mentioned before I can't plan anything. If I was to plan a freak out I would be late, forget the bullets and buy the wrong pattern thong. Now if I know the person I'm ok, but as for meeting new people I fail like a chocolate fire guard. I fear that I might come across as a, well to put it straight, a twat. And this is why I'm not good, I'm worrying about what impression I am making to in fact make a good impression. This is the same in a new job. I try so hard to be out going and nice, but with the worry I come across moody. I don't want to be that knob head that talks way to loud and makes smutty remarks towards anything with boobs (including the fat guy) not on the first day anyway. But it would be nice to skip about 2 weeks into the job when I have settled in and know everyone. I suppose its the same for everyone. But still I'm not fond of the way I come across, so if you have met me before, please think back and don't judge me as a dribbling zombie with less of a sense of humour then a over ripe orange. I don't dribble that much. With the way of the world this is becoming less of a problem. Why stand in the corner of a stale party talking about X-factor in the desperate attempt to meet new people. No, now you don't even have to get dressed, you can meet all the people you want over the marvellous god like internet. With Faceache, My-spaz and the hundreds of chat rooms fall of naked pig ugly people, why throw on a coat and take your life in you own hands on public transport. Just sit there and press the on button, grab a bag of cheesy balls, a cup of tea and reach out and touch someone.

gizza job...I can do that

 

Tis the season to be jolly and for a number of people, tis the season to start looking forward to the next year and more importantly the prospect of yet again another round of mind numbing spirit crushing job hunting. Yes for us 'temps' its back to the job pages and to be honest the thought of job search makes me feel sick. I'm not the most organised person you'll meet. Fact is I can't plan how to get to the bottom of a packet of crisps when I first open them. So I should be hot on the internet looking and applying for jobs but I get distracted so easy (this is one). Tying to get a job has become a nightmare, gone are the days when you could have a drunken word with a mate on Friday and be working on the Monday. Now just to get an interview is a whole to do, its the equivalent of having to make your way across a greased pole to retrieve a crystal from the ass of a bent over clown, like some kind of crystal maze twat. I could take the Yozza Hughes approach to job hunting, but I'm not a scouser and I couldn't grow a fine peace of face furniture like that if I tried, and as much as I like the idea of going around nutting anyone who even looks at me in a funny way I would probably knock myself out more the other person. So I will do as I always do, stumble around the real world and the internet looking for work until something comes along and hits me. This is how I have found most of my jobs, well this and the fact most of my jobs seem to bleed into one another, people wise. So sometimes it is the people you know. Maybe its time for a change of vocation. I've been in retail for a good few years and it's a love/hate thing. Everyone who's worked in shops will tell you the same. On one hand you get to meet and work with some of the nicest people, but on the other there are some real arse holes out there, but this is true with every job and place of work. One thing about retail that really busts my balls to the point of trouser replacement is the working hours, but again its good and bad all the way. So what to do? I'm buggered if I know, I'm still trying to get to the bottom of those crisps.

I love the dead?

 

I love the dead. Not in the highly illegal pants around you ankles in a morgue kind of way, More of a Friday night zombie movie-fest....with chips and dip kind of way.

I don't know what fascinates us when it comes to the newly reanimated, maybe its the fact that they are us. Zombies are often over looked in the monster stakes. They're slow, look like shit and have a really impolite habit of falling apart at your new years party. Nobody likes to be in mid conversation when suddenly the persons nose falls into his appletini. But I don't agree, zombies are the ultimate monster, OK so most of the other nasties can easily kick zom-ass but they all have major drew backs. Vampires can't go out in the daylight, can't look at cross's and hate garlic, unless its a 'vampire' from the Twilight novels which ignore all the above rules so in my eyes are not vampires but moody tree climbing emo teens. Werewolf's only have any powers when its a full moon...rubbish. The rest of the time its just some guy with a taste for dog food. Mummies f**k off. So it comes down to the good old zombie, no fear, no feelings just a unstoppable hunger for the white meat. Now we all sit there in our soft arm chairs drinking tea, maybe dunking the odd Hobnob shouting at the screen 'that's not the way you take down a zombie'. But how many of us have really thought about the survival methods when it comes down to a zombie apocalypse. Weapons should be top of the list, but first up forget chainsaws, yeah they look cool but have you tried to get one started, yes, well picture that with a whole shit load of zom's coming at you. You get it started and its all limbs a flying and your having a right gay old time till....bang you cut off your own leg. So pick your killing tool well. Hold up in a safe place and try not to go crazy. You too can learn all this by just watching a few good zombie movies, but a word of warning there are a LOT of crap movies out there that claim to be zombie movies, when they are in fact piles of horse vomit, trying to live of the true greats of the genre, Night of the living dead and two movies that followed. So I say long live the zombie, or long un-live the zombie.

Talk the Talk

 

I've lived in the second city all my life and for a good few years I have been working in the Bullring, one of Europe’s top shopping centres. So it is safe to say I am never ten feet away from an idiot. Couple this with the fact that I commute on public transport and I'm neck deep in the kind of idiocy that makes your teeth inch before the clock hits twelve noon. If there's one thing that will stick a neon Vegas style sign above your head with the word moron written on it, its the words you use when you talk. I remember back a few years ago when 'the kids' (which at the time probably included me) would replace the word 'Good' with the 'bad'. At the time this seems the norm to me.

As of late a certain word that when it is used has a similar effect as a cheese grater across the nad sack the word is 'sick', used as a replacement for 'good'. I'm not a Shakespearian linguistic by any means so this shouldn't bother me but it does. I can say that it is not communally used within my work place, until now. One of the Christmas temps used it in conversation much to the bemusement of everyone around. It seems it's a youth thing and for once I am very glad to be getting older. As I travelled home last night I pondered on this and suddenly it came to me that maybe this is not such a vomit inducing fad as I first thought. In Orwell's novel Nineteen Eighty-Four set in a dystopia future they are cutting a lot of the words out of the dictionary on a daily basis to make life less complicated for the proles. Maybe this is the same thing, using one word to describe two compliantly different things, maybe this is the way forward. If so I'm looking forward to the day I can call anyone 'bastard' because its used instead of 'people' in street talk and I won't get a punch in the fizzog. Happy days, or should I say 'sick days'.