Tales of nonsense and items of little interest, sometimes true, always poorly thought through. Less sophisticated than most newspapers and magazines.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Israeli's, Tennis Balls and Fake Cripples

I'm a bit annoyed this morning, mostly with myself.

Last night someone, an Israeli, wanted to make a bet with me that Israel would beat England today. Hesitantly, because England have been a bit shit lately, I agreed and as is the Israeli way we began to talk money. He started off at $1000 and I told him to fuck right off because a) I don't have $1000 and b) even if I did I would not be putting it in the hands of Steve McLaren. I suggested something a little more reasonable like $50. He would not do it!!!

What the fuck is wrong with these lads? If I had agreed to the grand he probably would have taken it and I would have theoretically been $1000 richer this morning. I say theoretically because there is no way the fucker would have paid up without, shall we say, a little pressure. I just don't get them. Their perceived value of things is way off. I see them all the time at the club, they will happily drop $500 on a bottle of vodka but will go to extraordinary lengths to get a $5 discount on admission. They will show up dressed in expensive designer threads and stand around outside for a hour or even two, waiting for someone they know who works there to get them in for free. It's all fuckin' flash and talk with fuckers from that region of the world, big fuckin' talkers. They want to argue, get in your face, push buttons but then play the race/religion card quicker than anyone when things go south. Like I said though, I'm more annoyed with myself that I didn't grab his hand and shake it as soon as he said "put your money where your mouth is."

Tennis Balls
I've been working hard on a creating a new image for tennis balls, or at least finding a new use for them. After doing some research I have concluded that there are only three main purchasers of tennis balls. Tennis players, dogs (or dog owners) and people who use zimmer frames. You don't ever see a tennis player using a walking frame and you never see a walking frame user playing tennis. Similarly, it is extremely rare to see a dog doing either and the thought of a dog doing both at the same time is just silly as they are really only interested in chasing the tennis ball. You could argue that a dog owner might be either a tennis player or the user of a walking frame who gets extended use out of their old tennis balls by throwing them for their dog but I would say the you were stretching things a bit.
Apparently you can also use tennis balls for breaking into some older model cars but I'm not sure the industry would want that particular activity to be the focus of an advertising campaign. So I'm struggling with this. If anyone has any ideas please share them.

Mister Waring! Can We Have Our Balls Back?

Absolutely No Use For Tennis Balls

Fake Cripples
One of the few things that annoys me more than a fake cripple is getting stuck behind a real cripple in a narrow aisle at the supermarket. This isn't about real ones though, it's about fake ones, people who do it for either financial gain or because they are just lazy twats and in some cases, both.
I see this lad last night in a wheelchair, he's obviously not right as he is having a loud argument with himself about religion. Anyway, this lad is wheeling himself along in the wheelchair using his legs and feet. If he can use his legs and feet to such a degree why does he need a wheelchair? Is it his back? Can he just not stand up straight? Am I judging him too harshly?
I once saw some bloke on crutches standing at the bottom of the freeway exit holding bit of cardboard which said "Cripled(sic) Please help". Later that day I swear I saw him running for a bus.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

A Very Sweaty Arse Crack


It's been two fuckin' weeks since my last post. What the fuck has happened to me? I was turning out regular posts 3 or 4 months ago. Okay, they weren't much cop but at least I was making the effort. I need to sort my shit out and get back to the matters at hand. The stuff that nobody else seems to concern themselves with, that few are interested in and that make absolutely no fuckin' difference to the lives of the majority of the population. The stuff that (my) dreams are made of.

I took last week off from the day job, time to relax, to sleep in until at least 7am or just to lie around spread eagled across the sofa pumping my fist to the morning weather girls on telly.
Actually, I took time off to try being a Dad for a week seeing as it was the younger Waring's last week off from school and to hopefully get some shit done that I never seem to have time for, like blogging. Turns out that it was the hottest week of the fuckin' year here in LA and to be honest, it was fuckin' miserable round at the noticeably non-air conditioned Waring house. We got out and did a couple of things like see a film or two and went down to the Aquarium of The Pacific in Long Beach but other than that, it was a week spent sparring with the missus and just trying to stay cool. It was too fuckin' warm to blog and my mood did not suit anyway, so I purposely left it alone. Enough said.

Speaking of the heat, it's cooled off considerably and could be described as "quite a nice evening" in these parts. A cool breeze and a celebratory bottle of wine (my first for some time) conspire to make life tolerable again.

Speaking of the heat, last Saturday lunchtime I took the sprog to the pictures to see "Underdog", a festering turd of a movie - avoid at all costs, it has Jim Fucking Belushi in it for Bogs sake. Anyway, we go over to Alhambra, where at noon on the corner of Atlantic & Main it is 104 fuckin' degrees hot and some poor cunt is out dressed in a Spongebob costume holding a sign that says "HONK IF YOU WANT TO SAY HELLO"......

Don't Do Drugs......

I don't know why, maybe it was a bet, a dare or maybe someone was desperate to lose weight or something but I can think of no good reason to do this to myself. They were not advertising anything but were stood outside a car dealership so maybe they were just trying to attract attention to it. I got there at noon, entered the cinema at 12:15 and came out at 2:00 and they were still there. There was also someone in a Garfield costume (although they were gone at 2:00pm) a Genie (from Aladdin) and someone in a neon green dinosaur costume all holding the same sign. As usual, I was left with only questions....no answers.

Speaking of losing weight, I am on a diet stroke healthy eating stroke exercise binge once again. I need to lose a pound or fifty and get myself into some kind of shape if I am to ditch the wife and attract a quality replacement. That said, I did not need the added, unexpected bonus workout that I got last night. It was the first night back at school after taking the summer off, I enrolled in a Human Relations class which should be a fuckin' breeze and keep my 4.0 GPA intact, thank you very much.
I may have mentioned before that parking at Glendale College is a fuckin' nightmare, traumatising to say the least. You buy a parking permit but yet there is nowhere to park, fucking racketeers is what they are. Anyway, they sorted it out by building a shiny new multi-storey and advertised the benefits to no end. So I show up and fuck yeah! No problem, I pull into a space on the sparsely populated 5th floor of the garage....very nice! I follow the signs for the lift and notice with little surprise that the lift shaft seems to be lacking doors and indeed, a lift. The bastards have rushed to complete the parking structure in time for term so that they can sell more fucking parking permits but have not yet added the necessary accessories that would actually make it conveniently accessible.

Normally, 5 flights of stairs are no big deal but the location of the parking structure, atop a very steep grade indeed, adds a good 100 (steep) steps from the college itself up to first floor of the garage. The journey down is a treat but the return is a right bugger. I had to stop half way up to almost throw up and my legs were like jelly. Imagine my delight as I practically crawled, wheezing and spluttering to the top just a the free shuttle bus pulled up......bastards!

Also, as a result of the diet/excercise/arse sweat lifestyle change, I have made a radical choice to change my underwear of preference. More later....