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!

Mirror in the Bathroom

Do you ever look out the window and think "I wish I wasn't working, the weather is absolutely amazing today"? Or, in my case, have you ever thought "The weather is really nice today, but I can't think of do other than piss about on the laptop/tv"? Yeah. This weekend, however, I received a phone call from a friend asking if I wanted to go to the park for a 'picnic'. Which sounded pretty awful. When I think of picnics, I think of an English gentlemen and his upper class friends in straw boating hats eating cress sandwiches before a splendid game of cricket. But getting drunk with friends in hot weather under a large tree actually turned out to be a very pleasant experience. We also unsuccessfully climbed trees, pulled an absolutely wasted friend away from a fight from some junkies, had a slightly surreal experience with a drug dealer, and almost threw up after an experience with marijuana.

The poor bugger didn't know what hit him

So the day provided me with a lot of bloggy sort of thoughts. You know, the case for marijuana legalisation, the consequences of drinking, generic stuff like that. But today I'd like to praise bathrooms. I spent a lot of time in there after my brush with 'weed', either standing over the toilet or lying in the bath, giggling and hugging a bottle of shampoo. Thanks to the fact that I live in a developed country, almost every building I go in has a room with a sink and a toilet at the very least. A hundred years ago of course, bathrooms were virtually non existent. And for many people, they didn't properly feature in the home until the early sixties. But I love everything about them. During a party, before a job interview, after an exam, it's a place of sanctuary. Sitting on the shitter, thinking about life and all that. The lock on the door (that's usually there) means that you are completely separated from the world and it's perceptions of you, as you contemplate morality or attempt to squeeze out last nights fajitas. And after your 10th can of lager, you can sing your heart out without any fear, ignoring the nagging thought in your mind that someone is behind the door sniggering. And it's the same for the shower and the sink - they are designed to cleanse. The whole bathroom experience is one of detox, poison, in the body, or in the mind, gets washed away. That's why I love bathrooms. Or maybe it's because I can walk about naked and not get funny looks for a change. Ahem.

The university term ends soon, and I have my work cut out. I really can't make a website. Help. Aside from that, everything is peachy I guess, thanks for reading!

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!