Reporting in

Seeing as everyone enjoyed the photos of me in my last blog, here's another one.Hello friends, how goes it with you? This is me, the ginger bastard reporting in on his much neglected blog. Well let's see what's in the news... I see a song about Ribean is currently number one in the charts, good on Kanye for rapping about that marvelous drink, think I might pop down the shops and buy myself some.

I handed in my dissertation today, guess that means my uni life is nearly over! Oh shit. Guess I'm gonna have to be a responsible adult soon. That means I can't get away with five days without shaving, which I deemed as being a waste of time the last five days what with having a dissertation to finish.

I'm out of material, I'll end with a quote;

'Ribena, I know what you're drinking' Kanye West.

I meant to cram in more jokes into this, but sadly this twaddle I've produced is just 'bare jokes' instead. That's slang for sumamt.

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Now playing: Estelle - American Boy (Radio Edit w/ Kanye)
via FoxyTunes

Sympathy time (I'm almost wrote symphony time).

I got a man cut today.

Just thought you might like to know.

No, I'm not writing the dissertation with the ever looming deadline.

Yes, this is a pointless blog post.

And yes, I do love you.

How are you today?

I've had it, with the motherfucking length of my hair on my motherfucking head.

Dilema of the day

If I answer my phone which for some reason happens to ring just after I've come out the shower and my hair is dripping wet, will I some how conduct an electric current by answering the phone, what with my hair being girlishly long and covering my ear in which I use to listen to the person speaking to me on the telephone? Would I fry my golden locks? Would they literally be golden for a few second whilst they were alight, then just be ashes? Isn't electric blue? Wouldn't my hair go all punk then?

Shouldn't I be wondering why the person is calling instead of wondering if I will kill myself through too much electric? Aren't these thoughts further delaying me answering the telephone?

This is why I don't do telephone calls. Now I'm off to do the thing I was phoned about, turns out I didn't electrocute myself, which made my morning!

What I've been upto

I'm still in denial and think February has just begun, when of course it hasn't. Fuck. Well this is what I've been upto since I last blogged, bad news I'm afriad, this blog is going to be a weep peice, my face got stuck in the below expression for two weeks.My mum has always wanted me to pull normal expressions in photos, unfortunately I am a rebel, and rebelled against my mother's photo system and continued to pollute photos of me (count the 451 polluted photos of me on social networking phenomena feecesbook) and sadly my face froze for two weeks in the above photo. At the time it was fun, but it quickly became a chore, for a start my speech became incredibly restricted, and couldn't really say words, just mutter everything, which became incredibly annoying when your pub quizzing and you just know that The Former Yuogslavian Republic's David Brent in their version of the golden globe winning triumph The Office is called Midge Ure, but they can't make out what you're saying and they end up writing down 'measure' because they think it could be a name of someone from the former Yugoslavian republic (of Massive Donna) because for some reason they think the name Reg is Latvian for feces and that's justification enough. Fools!

And the women, well let me tell you no longer could I accidentally stare at a pair of lady bollocks, no, I was permanently staring in the ceiling doing a face that can be mistaken for "Phwoar". The amount of slaps I got was ridiculous, but on the plus side it did push back my acne infection. Thanks gals!

No one takes you seriously with my new facial expression, which was hard because I had to inform a friend of mine that their favourite uncle had exploded out of eating too much Haribo and drinking too much Carling at the same time (harling he calls, the harlot), try saying that with my face, it's impossible, particularly as that favourite uncle kept his harling addiciton a secret from his friend's and family. She just giggled herself silly, she probably still thinks that their favourite uncle is around to fulfill a meaningful facebook friend relationship.

So basically life is a bit of a shitter at the moment, my face hasn't gone back to it's usual position, fortunately my mouth has slight shifted half way back to its usual position, but my eyes are still starring up, so I got a friend to put up a mirror on the ceiling and I'm typing the blog staring up. Just as well I can touch type, but I have to proof read!

So please, next time you pull a stupid mug into a camera lens, do me a favour and don't, unless you want your face permanently fixed in the position. Ruining photos should be a crime, just treat every photo like a photo you'd want Grandma to see, please!

Do me a favour and try and have a nice valentines day, there's not been a charity set up for my condition, but I'll get back to you if there is one, go out, have fun and use your facial expressions responsibly, thank you.

Tip: Don't watch Lily Allen and Friend's on BBC3, because that'll force your face to do all manner of disgusted facial expressions.

I hate it when...

walking abouts, in a building, in a shop, on the streets, somewhere and I happen to be walking along the same planned path as someone walking the other way. We both notice that a collision in our pre-determined walking paths are imminent so shift to the left to avoid each other, but then I feel bad for making them shift to the left on their planned path and shift to the right, but they shift to right because I'm walking to the left, then we shift to the left and right back and forth unsure on the other persons walking path, sometimes I manage to save myself in this kind of loop by shifting extreme left, but sometimes I've just walked into the other person, I once almost crashed into a woman in W H Smiths, it's awful. My neurosis is getting in the way of my everyday walking! I've tried just staying in to avoid walking neurotic crash syndrome, but I just bored. I apologise after the crash, but I don't think I need to say sorry for my illness of walking neurotic crash syndrome. I think I just need to be a large penis and just stick with my walk path regardless of what people are in my way! Life is such a bitch sometimes. Of course I can't be the only person with this illness, at least I hope not, comfort me and tell me I'm not alone!