Hold onto your knuts

Here's a book that you probably can
 judge from the cover 

I was pondering blog topics a little while back, and I settled on doing a topic that I knew inside out. But I've done bands I like to death as a topic. And I was a little stunted for subjects, since I've got the whole jack of all trades, master of none thing going on. I study journalism, but there's not too much you can say about that unless you want to sound like an Andrew Marr wet dream. But as I was squatting over that toilet, unable to sit because the seat burnt my arse cheeks, holding on for dear life, trying not to splash shit on my trainers as I jolted back and forth, I realised something. I knew what I was on like the back of my hand. Not toilets. But the finest transportation service to grace planet earth - Megabus. Because friends and family are spread out between Aberdeen, Dundee, Glasgow, and even Birmingham, I've had to make heavy use of this budget service which has given me an uncountable number of experiences.

Stagecoach Group began Megabus in 2003 for the United Kingdom, and 2006 in the USA. Scouring the US wikipedia page has been interesting, because there appears to be a long list of Megabus drivers that have been caught drink driving, and generally crashing into things. But funnily enough, my search for out of control Megabus UK drivers turned out to be fruitless. Which is actually fair enough. I'm maybe being a little sceptical here, since I've never had any problems with their drivers. The service you get from Megabus is exactly what it says on the tin - low cost travel, and it isn't really so bad. As long as they maintain their toilets properly. Which isn't very common actually. Right away you can tell there is something a little iffy about Megabus before even using their service. You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. But Megabus is a a bus service, not a library, so let us indulge in some prejudice as we look at their mascot in the picture just below.

...

Picture a sane person. Completely sane. Can you imagine them designing that with good intentions? I'm thinking this. It's late 2002. Stagecoach Group are on the verge of creating a fine, low cost service all can enjoy. They hire a designer to come up with a lovable mascot for this blossoming idea. The designer forgets his project and gets drunk on the very last day. Memories flood back to him, something has to be submitted. In a blind panic, he finishes his bottle of gin, grabs some crayons and paper from the Early Learning Centre, and hops on his bike. But there's a storm. He does the best he can on this creaking little bicycle with the wind swaying him back and forth. It's shite, but it's something. It's submitted, and Stagecoach Group are so pleased with their low cost bus idea that they love the drawing. The mascot has a melted face, resembling a perverted gnome thinking about molesting something innocent with his tangerine slice penis. But hey, maybe some people think it's wonderful.

The mascot is the tip of the iceberg. The toilets, as you may have guessed, are not desirable places to be. On one of my first ever Megabus experiences, the toilet was full, and had a broken flush. A mountain of faeces almost rose above the seat, competing with the thick vomit stain near the door handle that hung in the limbo between solid and liquid. Another visit saw a solitary trainer lying on the floor. The hand-dryer coughed and gave me a small piece of chewing gum, but didn't actually dry my hands. The sink doesn't usually work, and when it does, it takes the skills of a maverick jet pilot to avoid the jet of boiling water it shoots into your chest. And there's also the usual assortment of screaming children, drunks, hambeasts, and people playing their tinny custom ringtones for all to hear.

CHEESE SALAD SIR?

Sometimes I go on the 'Gold' service, which costs a little more, but can be well worth the luxury. These journeys have more comfortable seats, and are generally populated with a small number of polite, elderly folk, rather than a full bus of junkies and thieves. You also get a little sandwich, a drink, and a piece of shortbread, which is fantastic. These journeys are interesting in their own right, mainly for the steward that serves you. Sometimes the steward is sane, but I always hope for psychotically nice man. Psychotically nice man offers you shortbread in a threateningly nice way. His girder-like arms bulge underneath his tiny shirt, threatening to crush his basket of pancakes and jam (and your skull) at the first sign of refusal. His wide smile is particularly impressive, and his hollow eyes that have probably seen countless kneecaps broken stare into your soul and remove any desire to deny a tuna crunch on wholemeal bread. There's also trauma lady, who simply melts into an abyss of mental torment if you refuse her offers, occasionally looking back with a guilt-tripping stare. It's all fun.

Megabus doesn't have a twitter, and it's clear to see why. There are often various problems that would mean that they constantly get harassed for providing a questionable service in some cases. But I'm going to continue using it. It isn't particularly expensive and well...yeah. It's cheap. God bless Megabus.

What I'm currently listening to > \Drokk - Geoff Barrow/

Thanks for reading!

Someone's pinched me winkles

When I went to Belgium a few years back, my family and I went to a brewery, and had a tour around the place. I remember the guide describing 3 ways of storing alcohol. The glass bottle. The keg/barrel. And the can, where he winced a little and described it as a "sorry excuse for storing beer". He probably would have fainted if he'd seen the dirt cheap 2 litre plastic bottles I usually purchase when guzzling cider. It's not the most attractive thing to drink, and some would say that isn't exactly milk from an angel's tit, but it goes down easy and fucking hell it's cheap. So naturally, cider has become a good friend in my student years. But sometimes I like to treat myself. The treat is still cider, but the taste is a little more refined. The other day I noticed that my local supermarket was selling some toffee apple cider, my favourite alcoholic beverage. When I went today however, it was out of stock. So instead I came home with three different quirky ciders, all brewed by Magners.

They look lovely, but quite frankly, they
don't kill enough brain cells

Right here I have a 'Spiced Apple and Rhubarb' one, a 'Pear and Ginger' one, and a 'Spiced Apple and Honey' one. And tonight, I'm going finish them off and give each a review whilst playing some outdated but nevertheless fun PS2 games. If you are expecting a proper review, turn away now. I won't be 'detecting any hints of blueberry and pinewood', and nor will I be swilling the stuff around in my mouth pulling quizzical faces. I have no idea how to properly review booze, so we'll just see how this goes.

First up; Spiced Apple and Rhubarb accompanied by some 'smart price' chocolate digestives and Max Payne. I can't find my proper PS2 controller, so I have to use the tiny substitute that the last person in the room gets if I'm playing multiplayer. Bit of an awkward start trying to get the cap off, but what a lovely smell. A bit like a combination of mulled wine and rhubarb & custard sweets. The taste isn't very strong at all. Like a weak mulled wine. But it's nice to not be overpowered. It ain't too sickly. I could probably drink this all night. Max Payne's voice actor is as monotonous and shitty as always. And seriously, how did anyone ever think these graphics were cutting edge? His face looks like it was drawn while riding a bicycle, with the resulting artwork being stapled onto a head by a one eyed gorilla. Cider verdict - pleasant, but not outstanding. 7.5/10

Looks like he's holding in a particularly awful shit.
Which is probably why they got Mark Wahlberg
to play him in the film.

Pear and ginger now. I hate pears generally. They're pretty much like skanky, shitty apples. The cider they produce is generally alright, but not quite in the same league as apples. Let's see what going posh does for it. Ohhhh, what a lovely ginger fragrance. Nice one, the ginger overtakes the pear, rendering it pointless. I'm not complaining. Max is running through some medical lab that's about to blow up. Save a scientist, shoot a roomful of people in the face, rinse and repeat. I'm having fun for now, but I may put on a new game soon. Alright, what the fuck you piece of shit. I think the game has glitched. I'm stuck on top of a poorly rendered lift with a metal grate floating above my head, with no means of escape. Right. Timesplitters 2. Again this cider is nice, but inoffensive, so I suppose it's the Michael McIntyre of drink. It's pretty great, but there's that little voice in the back of your head that wants a little kick, maybe the occasional dead baby joke. Another 7.5. Surprise me, Spiced Apple and Honey.

First impressions of the last bottle aren't great, because I spilled some of it and cut my hand trying to open the fucker. I taste a little bit of the spices, but where the fuck is the honey? Ahhh, there's a tiny, tiny little aftertaste of it. Same as the others in terms of inoffensiveness. It's still nice, and because it isn't sickly I can down it at a fair rate. Moved onto Timesplitters: Future Perfect now because TS2 is insane. Really. I've never tried cocaine before, but I imagine that it gets you a little bit close to the pace of that game. Future Perfect is essentially a slightly dumbed down version (but still just as fun) so it's the better option in my current state. So yeah, the cider. Nice, but lacking in punch. Same as the others. Won't be wasting £7 on that garbage again.

What I'm currently playing > \Timesplitters: Future Perfect - Gladiator mode/

Thanks for reading!

Spirits in the Material World

Why hello there! This paragraph here? It's usually filled with things going on in my life. But I don't really have a clue what is happening really. I'm back in Aberdeen but I don't know how long I'll be staying for. The job I was hoping to get was given to someone else but "they'll keep my name on file" and that "there are other positions coming up soon". And my parents want me down at theirs to look after my brother and do some humdrum tasks. At the same time I'm trying to get work experience. And I'm also trying to do things like visit people I like and have a good time in the summer. As soon as I do one thing, it's more or less guaranteed that something else will pop up. Groovy times! On the other hand I've done quite well with my exam results and I haven't probably treated myself. So fuck everything else, I'm drinking tonight (probably by myself, lol).

I've always wondered how Thomas would deal with
 a bunch of rowdy drunks inside him. 

If you've been following my blog for a good while, you might remember a lazy post I did about bus journeys. Well, when I was at my parents in the West of Scotland, to get anywhere that might have something as sophisticated as shops that don't just sell bread, milk, and newspapers, I had to travel by train. Which is a similar experience to riding a bus. But it has a lot more space for drunks to dance, shout loudly, and pee. And much like the bus you overhear some usually dull, but sometimes interesting conversations. One conversation in particular that I remember was conducted by a seller. That may sound vague, but every 50 people or so, you'll meet a 'seller'. Now, this person might not even work in sales (although they generally do) but you can never trust them, because normal conversation just sounds like they want something from you. In this particular conversation the 'seller' had got tickets for an event at the London 2012 Olympics. By the sounds of things, the friend had entrusted the 'seller' with money for the tickets, but the 'seller' had got more expensive tickets the friend didn't necessarily want. "Yeah, I just got premium xtra sooper dooper wow tickets that only cost £100* more, but I think it's so much better in the long run? I mean, we only have to wait in a 5 minute queue? I mean, we don't have to wait about all day, it won't be that big, but it means we get seats almost right at the front? It's actually pretty good value, I mean, we get cup holders in the seats, and we see all the action SO MUCH CLOSER and it's not worth ruining our experience right? And you know..." I'll stop there, I think you get the idea.

Do you have any friends like this? I don't. If you've read this blog for any period of time you'll know I hate a lot of things. But 'sellers' have to be in my top 3 pet hates somewhere. They'll rub your back and kiss your arse, they'll guilt trip you, and they'll fire 'advantages' and 'perks' at you like semen fires out of a paedophiles' penis whilst watching Lazytown. All to get you to do something they want. I suppose you could argue that for a career, I'll be doing exactly the same thing, but I'll want information and stories as opposed to money. To those people I say shush. If you have been forced to work in sales because you haven't got any money and you can't afford to be fussy, I really don't envy you. My sympathies go out to you. Unless you try to sell me something. 

Thanks for reading!

*I can't remember exactly what he said here, I just made stuff up to give you the general idea

The Kids Don't Like It but the Folks Approve

My mother, bless her, despite never reading this blog, gave me some excellent words of wisdom. "How the hell can you get inspiration for your blog if you never step outside your flat?". A slight exaggeration, but nevertheless, in there lies a dirty little truth. As you've seen from my past blogs I sometimes get a little lazy. So I go out during the day often, for a little run into town even if it amounts to nothing. But aside from playing with a cat when I was drunk, and walking along a street with a squirrel following on the wall beside (yes, I actually regard those as highlights in my increasingly boring weeks), the irony is that most of the noteworthy things in my life have happened at the flat. I stood on my headphones and broke them, I broke my mobile phone, and I broke the dishwasher. And my parents came up.

Derrick the racist dung beetle;
only included in a deleted scene 

Now yes, it's nice to see my folks. But this weekend was like an extended version of the recent phone calls I've been having from my mother (nagging, nagging, nagging), complete with disappointed facial expressions and the folding of arms. But perhaps worse than this is looking at a parent as they tap their hand impatiently in a particular way that reminds you - you did that exact same thing the night before. Whether we like to admit it or not, we pick up a lot from the folks. I'm told that I have my mother's eyes and my father's temper. My mother's ability to see the worst in people, and my father's love for the band Queen. And like how I'm glad that folks came up, but I also get a little tired of their presence, I'm glad I inherited a few traits, and relieved that my views are also a little different. My dad is one of those 'traditionally racist' sorts of people. He'll say "Oh typical, it's a bunch of fucking wogs blocking the road" or "Those slanty eyed bastards in the Chinese are fucking ripping us off again", but without having any desire to clear them off the face of the earth. So I'm pretty glad I'm not a carbon copy of my dad. And not just because of the hair-loss (which hopefully won't be happening anytime soon). Despite the general feeling that better technology is making us lazier, I'd like to think that in some respects, we are actually evolving. For example the way we view others. Thinking about it, aren't we just taking ages to reach normality? I haven't ever heard of racist dung beetles or homophobic chimpanzees. Maybe I haven't been watching David Attenborough's documentaries close enough.

Life updates - not much. There's something I'd like to complain about, but I'm not sure if that person reads this blog or not. It could be you!!!!!11111. Have a few essays and stuff, which I'm not panicking about (even though I really should be). Also if the 'A Beer from the Shower' people are reading this, I had a dream about you guys telling me I was cool. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Another drunk blog tm. Thanks for reading!

Ladies and gentlemen, it's too much for Mr Incredible!

Do you ever watch the film credits and see someone like the 'set production assistant' or the 'secondary grip' and think of them smiling somewhere, thinking about their 1.2 seconds of fame? No? Just wondered. Besides, not everyone wants to be in front of the camera. There's always good honest, blood, sweat and tears that work behind the scenes, and many are happy to stay like that. I'm of the belief that there's a job for everyone. Even for those that literally clean up other people's shit. I mean, once you've got used to the smell I can imagine it's a relaxing routine, with plenty of time to think about stuff. As long as you don't drop your watch.

My reaction upon finding out his sexuality

Talking of careers, I have to start thinking about continuing my driving lessons in order to have any hope of getting a career in Journalism. According to my lecturers anywhere decent won't employ you if you are without a license. I've been putting it off for quite a while, partly because of money, and partly because of my previous driving instructor. I'm a slow learner, and if someone shouts at me when I get something wrong, I'm not going to improve, I'm going to get nervous and bugger up even worse. So needless to say, we didn't get on so well and I only got about halfway there. He was a bit odd though. You know that clear sticker you get on watch faces and laptop screens that you are supposed to peel off? He kept them on everything. His watch, his satnav, his phone. They had been on for years and they were all grubby so that you could barely see the screen. One time he accidentally touched my hand when he was correcting the steering wheel. He immediately threw his hands up in the air and said "I'M SORRY I DID NOT MEAN TO DO THAT, THAT WAS YOUR PERSONAL SPACE AND I'M SORRY". And he said he hated Queen, I've never met anyone that's hated Queen. But I am an overly sensitive person, and he was a pretty decent guy that taught me a lot. I think it's time I manned up and thought about getting lessons sorted. If I have enough money after I've paid for all my summer shenanigans.

If you're wondering about my post title, it's because The Incredibles is on while I'm typing this. I'm not a massive fan of Pixar or Disney productions, but I love this film. The animation, the time period, the plot, the concept, the characters and the humour is all great. And it's very highly quotable. I hope they don't make a terrible sequel after that slightly lazy ending.

For anyone that cares I had a great new year. I went out and got talking to some guy I'd never met, who was really sound. On the table next to us some girls left two massive pitchers of some pink cocktail, and so that helped get us a bit more drunk for free. After a few laughs and some terrible dancing on my part we got separated at one point. Which was shame because he was a cool guy. It's a shame he was straight. I hope he had some fun with those girls we met that night.

Resolution 909

There seems to be some unsaid problem with drinking alone. I personally don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as you mostly drink socially, and as long as you don't get so emotionally involved with scrubs that you throw yourself out of the window. It's new years eve, and so far, I am drinking alone. Most of my friends are all out in some other city, having a ball, and I'm not with them because of my terrible planning skills. But at some point I do plan on getting up, having a cup of coffee, hastily putting on something more presentable than an old Deftones t-shirt and socialising with strangers.

Not socialising material for some odd reason

Alcohol is a bit odd. Do you remember that whole fiasco with the government, when that advisor on drug policy was fired because he said that you were more likely to die from horse riding than from taking an ecstasy tablet? There have been quite a few things done by 'drug experts' that claim that alcohol is much worse than most illegal drugs. And most of us would probably agree in those moments where your mouth tastes like cigarettes (even worse if you are a non smoker that has a couple when drunk) and stale vodka, as you drift in and out of consciousness, wishing a glass of water was right beside your bed. Perhaps worse is the regret. Wishing you hadn't said all those very personal things to that all too sober fellow. All that goes out the window when you've had a few and you are enjoying yourself. With other drugs like heroin or ecstacy (I'm not implying that I've actually had them!) you have one pill/line/shot and you are there. But with alcohol, there's something quite relaxing about sipping a lukewarm glass of piss coloured liquid every so often. Sometimes I think about what being drunk is like. I've come to the conclusion that it's like looking down the wrong end of a pair of binoculars while underwater. And when talking about people who don't thank you when you hold the door open seems like a very philosophical subject. I also love the fact that I can talk absolute shit, as I normally do, but for a change I can actually get away with it.

I did say that I would do another blog drunk, and it only took another four days to do so. Of course it is new year's eve, and I would like to make up some resolutions. Normally, this is a chance for people to make a huge list of things they'll give up within the first week. But this is my first ever list of resolutions, and I'm only going to do a few.

1.Continue writing this blog.
2. Keep practising bass.
3. Get some journalism work experience.

That should be okay, they are at least within reason. I hope my blog is better than it was yesterday, I thought it was pretty mediocre. We'll see. Bye for now, and a happy new year for everyone reading this!