Archive for January, 2011

I spent the early hours of Saturday morning reading every single post on this blog to someone who doesn’t currently have access to the internet. It was good to read stuff I’d written that I’d forgotten about. I actually made myself laugh a few times. Anyway, I also got very frustrated at myself every time I came across a typing error. There are no spelling mistakes but on at least half a dozen occasions I came across instances where I wrote the wrong word or the same word twice or missed out a word completely. I do proof read everything I write before I publish it but I’m obviously a crap proof reader.

What I’d like for you, the reader, to do is highlight any and every mistake you spot so I can correct it. I’m pedantic myself so I won’t be at all miffed if you point out my errors. On the contrary, I’d be extremely grateful.

The mistakes I spotted myself are still there at the moment. I spotted them when reading from my phone and as good as the WordPress app is, it’s just a little too time consuming to do editing via those means. I’m at my laptop now so I could correct myself here but that isn’t going to happen at this moment in time. It would mean I’d have to read all my previous posts again so I can re-spot the mistakes and edit them. Nothing I’ve written has been so good that it warrants being read twice within one week.

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Fat people annoy me. Right, now that I’ve got that off my chest I’ll explain why.

The first reason is completely superficial. I don’t like to look at fat people. Fat people aren’t attractive. Occasionally you do get fat people (or ‘fatties’ as I’m going to refer to them as for the rest of this article) who have potentially good looks (i.e. a nice face) but unfortunately they ruin it with a bulging gut and an obscenely vast bum-mass. Their skin forms many layers and proceeds to fold more and more with every cake and kebab. They eventually reach a point in which, unless they’re standing completely still, their flesh emerges from their clothing. A roll of tummy here, a crack of arse there… It’s actually disgusting.

The second reason I’m annoyed by fatties is because of their attitude. They criticise (in most cases) girls for being “too thin” when the truth is that only very rarely is that the case. “Too thin” actually tends to mean “much healthier and prettier than me”. Captain Subtext does all the translation for us you see. You very rarely hear a fatty female refer to herself as ‘fat‘. Even though she’s often surrounded by slim or curvy girls complaining about how much weight they’ve put on recently, she’ll never turn around and say “if you think you’re fat look at me! I’m a big fat pig of a woman!”. Instead what you get is an awkward silence and an eagerness to change the topic of conversation quickly.

It’s also deemed unkind to ridicule fatties. Why? You see, there are forms of ridicule that are unkind and unwarranted. Ridiculing someone because of their race or ethnic group is completely out of order. Taking the piss out of someone because of their sexual-orientation is out of order. Now being Black or Asian or homosexual or whatever is not a lifestyle choice, it’s what they are when they’re born. Nothing can be done about it. It’s involuntary. However, if you’re a greedy, lazy human hoover-pig then that’s your choice. Nobody else is responsible for you resembling George from ‘Rainbow’. You look horrible but seriously – and more importantly – you’re extremely unhealthy. If getting a hard time from your peers inspires you to lose some lbs then I think that’s a good thing.

Naturally this could have the opposite effect and cause the “victim” to comfort eat. Bollocks. “Comfort eating” is just an excuse used by the individual to explain why they’re not losing weight. Low self-esteem isn’t the reason to eat a whole box of Malteasers in one sitting. The reason is greed.

Fatties eat and watch TV and apparently not much else. When they do leave the house their outing usually consists of fast-food or cakes and cookies (or the whole lot combined) saddled by a bus journey to and from. They’ll go on a night out and dance the night away. Good exercise (despite repulsing half of the people in the club, hence the “look at the state of that” and “I hope no one gets trodden on by the Heffalump” murmurs surrounding the dance floor). But upon leaving the venue they’ll head straight for the kebab shop and order the biggest mother-fucker on sale. Of course they go for the extra salad and copious amount of mayonnaise on top and what do they have to drink? Diet fucking Coke.

I realise that the majority of my criticism has been aimed primarily at girls. If this is sexist then it’s inadvertently so. To prove this point I wish to add that when I see a fat, sweaty man I often assume he sits at home wanking over S-Club-7 music videos whilst eating pork-scratchings and drinking cheap canned lager. They repulse me equally as much. More-so sometimes because they tend to smell worse.

I don’t think it helps when the likes of Beth Ditto and James Corden expose their flubber with such pride. Ok James Corden doesn’t do it to show off, he does it for comedy. But it shouldn’t be fucking funny. It’s not okay to be fat.

So what’s the solution? I mean, surely fatties don’t really like the way they look, right? That would be insane. A solution is definitely needed. Here’s some suggestions;

• Put all the really fatty foods on the bottom shelf in shops and supermarkets as people who are too fat can’t bend down that far without having to call the emergency services (or the national tug-o-war champions) to hoist them back up again.

• Put all sweets, cakes and other fatty foods down really narrow isles in supermarkets. That way only the people who fit through the gap can have a nice chocolate muffin.

• Bully the little fat kids in school by stealing their lunch money and running off with it. That way little fatty should – in theory – chase after you resulting in him getting some much needed exercise.

• Burn off more calories than you consume – simple science.

• How about some self-respect? I mean, aside from the weirdo men that appear on Channel 4 documentaries claiming to have a fetish for “larger ladies”, nobody sees fat people as physically attractive beings. That’s not shallow, that’s the truth. I have never in my life heard anyone in a bar turn around and say “look at that stunning girl at the bar… She reminds me of Mandy Dingle”.

So what would you rather be? Attractive/healthy or a fetish/Mandy Dingle?

I don’t think I’m being harsh. I’d like to clarify that when I use the term ‘fat’ I mean FAT. Not someone who’s curvy with “love handles”. Not someone who’s put on 3 stones and now weighs 10 stones. I mean FAT. Someone who resembles the bastard love-child of Ditto and Corden.

I understand that these views are likely to offend some people. I’ve been confronted by individuals wanting to defend fat people and the most common argument is always the weakest… “Some people can’t help it”. That just infuriates me more because of course they can. I know really fat people who have been determined to lose weight and they have done and now they look great. Contrastly, I’ve listened to fatties spew rubbish excuses in an attempt to justify the way they are. If they’re really happy then good for them but I’m not believing it at all. Big will never truly be perceived as beautiful and big people know it. They may be thick but they’re not thick (that’s a homophone).

I have a real problem with sleeping. I don’t have a problem with sleep itself but sleeping I find hard to do. I fail to grasp the simple art of sleeping. It’s not even an art. It should be natural. However, the more I try to go to sleep the longer I stay awake. I have to fall asleep. I have to reach that point where my body literally gives in and I pass out.

This is such a problem is because I can be awake for a long time before I fall asleep. Days sometimes. A good pattern for me is grabbing around four hours sleep every thirty-six hours. That’s just a pattern though. I don’t usually have any pattern at all. Sometimes I can sleep for twelve to fourteen hours without much interruption but then I won’t be sleeping again for a long time after that.

The issue I have with trying to go to sleep like a normal person is I find it really boring. All that happens when I lie down is my mind goes into frenzied activity and every single part of me wants to get up again. The more I try to settle, the more agitated I get. I have to sit up and do something. I have to. I’ll start reading or writing or watching or playing and before I realise it the night has passed and I’m still not in the slightest bit tired.

Eventually, after many, many, many hours awake, I’ll gradually find myself drifting off. When that begins to happen, I have fifteen to thirty minutes to get myself into bed and off to sleep. If for any reason I miss that window of opportunity – for example, I’m about to eat my tea – then more often than not I’m not going to feel tired enough to sleep again for at least another twelve hours.

This has pretty much been me for the last three years. It’s really not healthy and it’s been hugely disruptive to my whole life. I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been to see doctors and they’ve given me leaflets full of advice I’d already been given my mouth and I’ve tried my best to follow that advice but nothing’s worked. I have a compulsion to stay awake. I’m addicted to seeing as much of every day as possible. Simply lying down, closing my eyes and falling asleep just isn’t an option.

I think the biggest contributing factor is that I sleep alone. I don’t like sleeping alone. Sleeping alone isn’t very nice. Being alone isn’t very nice. In my case it very much equates to loneliness. There’s a gap I need to fill and I fill it by reading books or watching television or playing video games or writing down my often misanthropic thoughts on unimportant blogs. It’s okay though. These things keep me happy. At least I think they do. They certainly keep me going.

It’s definitely true in my case that sleeping beside someone is much easier than sleeping alone. When I’m sleeping beside someone then I’m not feeling that urge to get up and do something because lying next to that person feels like something.  Be it love, sex or just good company, sharing your night with someone consumes all your thoughts and you’re immersed in the experience. And sleeping beside each other or in each other’s arms is a part of that experience.  You might be reaching for the sick bucket but I’m particularly ashamed to say it’s true.

I’m not going to be sleeping beside anyone anytime soon (not with any regularity anyway) so I’m pretty much stuck in my current state. I could turn to alcohol every night but that would be properly pathetic. Even more pathetic than admitting I’m lonely and unable to sleep on a blog I want people to read.

According to Wikipedia – which is about as reliable as a one-legged Cancan dancer with a dodgy knee –  only 12% of people who make New Year resolutions actually achieve their goal. I think this is probably because people give themselves unrealistic targets. Really fat fuckers aren’t suddenly going to get thin because they’re too greedy. That’s just an example.

I’ve given up drinking coke for about six years in a row now but not once have I managed to get to the 2nd of January without at least having a cheeky sip of some. It’s never going to happen. I’m more likely to drown in coke than I am to go even one week without drinking it. It’s bad for me but I like it so as far as I’m concerned the pros outweigh the cons.

If I were to ask all of my friends to suggest something for me to give up for New Year then I’m fairly sure that the vast majority of them would say smoking. That’s not going to happen either. I like smoking. I really enjoy it. If I didn’t like smoking then I wouldn’t fucking smoke. “It gives you cancer”. Yeah? So does sunshine and happiness but even non-smokers indulge in those things from time to time. I’m not going to give up smoking.

One of the most common New Year resolutions is to go to the gym and lose weight. I can’t really do that as I’d probably evaporate. Even if I wanted just to get fit then I would waste any time and money on going to the gym. I’d start going jogging or something. A lot of people do set out to get fit in the New Year but I can’t be bothered so cross that one off the list. I used to be really physically active what with playing football, sprinting and masturbation but I no longer do two of those and the remaining activity doesn’t take a great deal of energy anymore.

Some New Year resolutions are just about improving one’s self. Be more optimistic. Be less grumpy. Be more organised. Be less of a cunt. These are all great ideas but they’re also impossible to maintain. If you are a pessimistic, disorganised, grumpy cunt then one number being different on the calendar isn’t going to change anything. You will still be all of those things.

I think the best kind of New Year’s resolution is one where you set a realistic target and aim to hit it by this time next year. This is the kind of area I’m operating in regarding my New Year’s resolution. My aim is to move away from Somerset. I don’t want to live abroad but London, Manchester or Cardiff would suit me fine. Things happen there. I’d also like to think that instead of lying in bed wearing boxer shorts that suffocate my cock and balls whilst writing this on a broken laptop hooked up to an old PC monitor that I have balancing on a chair that swivels, I’ll have slightly more professional surroundings to work in. A chair I can sit on and some clothes would be progress.

New year, new start. That’s what so many people say. The new year part is irrelevant obviously but the new start bit is always a good mentality to have so if changing the ‘0’ to a ‘1’ makes you feel happier about making such decisions then good on you. I sincerely wish you all the best.