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Still processing this…

They say confession is good for the soul but bad for the reputation.

I wrote here about things I am not good at.  Mostly to do with towels.

Anyway, turns out I dont know one superfood from the other either.

It is school holidays at the moment so I’m mostly spending time with the boys, not doing a lot but enjoying it nonetheless.  So we sit down and we are watching something on netflix and for whatever reason they serve up a serving of quinoa.  I believe it is pronounced Keen-wah.

Well I believe it now but until yesterday I had no bloody idea that is the same as that quinoa (Kwinoah?) stuff I force down my face when I am feeling particularly fat.

I honestly had no idea.  I mean one look at me abnd you’ll understand that I am don’t have a heavy keenwah intake but for whatever reason the fact just avoided me and I thought they were seperate things.

I told the family and they all laughed their arses off at me.  Even the 14 year old who’s brain only works between 11 and 2 each day and who is currently obsessed with knives and fire.

They then reminded me that until perhaps 8 years ago I had no idea that the spike in the end of an ointment cap is used to pierce the film lid.  Up until then I tended to use the outer prong of a fork though this did often result in something of a premature ointment explosion.

I reminded them that they were all garbage human beings and the 11 year old blonde one, fond of his facts and a bit of a know it all, ceased laughing most heartlily when I reminded him that he still couldn’t ride a bike and he better hope his hair darkens before he gets older because blonde haired male adults are just weird and creepy.

I wanted to say he would look like like a kiddy fiddler but showed some restraint when Mrs Afterwards gave me the look.

The even came to an abrupt end and we all had an early night after I suggested they eat my backside.  I know, wrong on so many levels and I know I ought to be ashamed of myself.

I blame it on the lack of keenwah in my diet…

 

 

 

 

Things I cannot do

We’re all shit in our own unique way.

There are things that I am good at which I am comfortable with.  I do a decent limerick, I”m shit hot with spreadsheets , and I make a bakewell tart so good that you’d likely let me touch you inappropriately just for a slice.  I think there are others but thise are the ones that spring to mind.

This though is not about my ability to make Microsoft Excel talk to you and tell you it wants to watch you take a pee.

This is about my inability to fold towels.

Well I can fold them but for the life of me I cannot get any of them the same bastard size.  It’s never been something I thought about much, intent as I was in the past to stack them in such a way as to make a pretty pyramid akin to the sort you get if you get a bundle as a gift.

God that’s a depressing thought in itself isn’t it.  A gift of towels.  Reminds me of the Christmas I found myself disappointed I never got any socks.  I died a bit inside that day I tell you.

I am also not talking making towels of vastly differing sizes fold to a similar footprint.  That would be stupid.  Hmm.  I think I’m still pretty crabby about it.

No, thing is Mrs Afterwards has this knack of folding all the varied towels and they all end up beign of a similar size and stack wonderfully and whilst she doesn’t admit it I know she is smug as fuck about it.  Well I would be if I had achieved such a feat.

Today I decided I would do the same and it did not go well.

Within ten minutes I happened to call a particularly tricky black bath sheet a bastard in front of the youngest, and followed that up by telling all the fluffy white ones to go screw themselves because even the ones of the same size refused to allow themselves to be folded to the same dimensions.

Eventually I rolled them all up instead like in a hotel but they didn’t fit on the stand in the bathroom so redid them just like one of those lovely stacks you get as a gift from your sister when you move into a new home.

Anyway, I imagine it is something passed down from mother to daughter but there is no way I am asking the missus.  I’d rather air dry.

That reminds me, does anyone know how to change a duvet cover.  Last time I did one I ended up with a prolapsed sphincter and a dislocated shoulder.

 

 

 

 

 

Grumpy old bastards

The picture has no relation to anything.

Thsi is one I sent to Linda for Guest in Jest.  Please head over to her site and take a look.


I am not sure that we ever truly feel our age, I know I certainly don’t though I am fast approaching fifty.  I am perhaps a little slower, broader and less inclined to carrying unfeasibly heavy things unaided than I once was but mostly still feel somewhere in my early thirties.  My eldest was just born and energy was in abundance and I was perhaps a touch more excitable than I am now.

I did however feel my age somewhat on Friday evening.  For 12 years now the same half a dozen chaps from work have been coming over each month (with some periods of inactivity) to play poker.  We all worked together once but have since moved on so it is great to eat, drink and be merry.

It was much to my horror though that a few of the lads seem to be exhibiting classic old man syndrome (which I will refer to as OMS for the remainder of this piece).  One chap, I shall call him Paul, because that is his name, expressed the sort of fear of gadgetry that only someone with OMS can display.  As we discussed the merits of the commected home he was covinced that the risk of wifi enabled light bulbs far outweighed any benefit they might offer.

Apparenly they can be hacked and people can then take over your computer and your life and all manner of beastly things can happen.  I am pretty certain that he was convinced that my Roomba (you know those automated vacuum cleaner things) was eying him up and that should he perhaps trip and fall and bang his head he would come to only to find that the Roomba had taken off his trousers and was rubbing itself against his exposed anus in a most sexual manner.

Simon was next to exhibit symptoms.  Simon is a bright lad, a great coder and hardly someone that should be fearful of technology.  I have seen him impliment some quite fantastic data solutions over the years but when it came to my Amazon Alexa it was beyond him.  He could not simply shout across the room for her to play a selection of songs from the nineties.  No.  He had to leave the table, wander across in the nervous way one might approach an attractive woman in a pub, and with all of the confidence of that man who knows full wel that she is out of league mumbled something about Oasis.

Alexa ignored him.

To complicate matters the Alexa is connected to a Sonos speaker…

I eventually had to step in when he was shouting at the top of his voice insisting that Alexa was a dick head with ‘Dont look back in anger’ blaring out of the Sonos and the Alexa playing ‘Wonder Wall’ equally loud.  Apparently he also managed to  play ‘Champagne Supernova’ in my youngest’s bedroom at full volume which nearly made him shit the bed.

Oh and two of them were drinking Becks Blue non alcoholic beer because they had to be up to play golf in the morning.

Next stop the nursing home and pissing myself as I watch Diagnosis Murder reruns.

NOT for the kiddies

Immature and inappropriate

The Haunted Wordsmith posted earlier and it tickled my fancy so I figured I would give it a crack.  The idea is to come up with the best lies to the questions below.  My lies are in BOLD.  Or are they lies?  Maybe they’re the truth and the truth is all just lies.

Deep eh 😉

Everyone thinks they know the story of Jack and Jill, but why did they really go up the hill?

Weed.  Jack was a serious toker and the hill gave him a great viewpoint in case the cops came by.  Jill brought snacks.  Be like Jill.

 

What was humpty dumpty sitting on and why?

A haemerroid ring.  Did you not know that he has serious piles from sitting on that cold fucking wall all day long.  They look like a freaking bunch of grapes just dangling from his little eggy anus.

 

What did Rapunzel let down?

Oh she let her hair down alright, that is why she was locked in that tower.  She was completely out of control when it came to princes and was secretly desperate to get a piece of any prince that was passing by.  Her parents locked her up there for her own good because she was getting a rep as a right little tease.  On and that wasn’t the hair from her head that she let down, she was famously hirsuite, if you know what I mean.  😉

 

What was Little Miss Muffet eating and what happened when the spider came down beside her?

Miss muffet had spend the afternoon with Jack and Jill so she was bloody starving and was eating porridge but she had already polished a ham, two chickens and a yard of sausage.  She was still tripping balls when the spider came down so she spent an hour talking existential shit before falling asleep and pissing herself.

 

Why was Hansel and Gretel sent into the woods?

To get some shrooms for Jack because Gretel had a bit of a thing for him and they were all going to get wasted together and see what happened.  Jill is a bit of a prude but you’d be amazed what people will do when they’re off their tits dancing with leprechauns.

 

Who really ate Grandma?

Everyone ate grandma when she was younger.  She would do just about anything for a picnic basket.  She makes Yogi Bear look vegetarian.

What did the Three Little Pigs build their houses out of?

Actually they rented as they were struggling to get a mortgage with the economy being in the state it was.  it wasn’t like they had a job or a deposit.  Unfortunately they had a pretty sketchy landlord who was just in it for the money and really didn’t look after the place which is why they came down so quickly.

What did Little Jack Horner pull out of the pie?

Himself.  Come on you know he did.  Times were harsh but they still ate it because it would be a good waste of pie and with the plague and everything you don’t know when the end will come so you really cannot be too picky about whether it has his special sauce in it or not.

 

What is the true story behind Cinderella?

She had to be gone by 12 because she was on probation for prostitution.  If she got caught cruising the palaces once more it was the stocks for her.

Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t his name…what was it?

Rumpledforeskin.  You’d have thought he’d have gone for something way different like Kyle or Luke maybe but he didn’t want to upset his mother.

 

Now off to bed with me to read stories to the kiddies

Don’t go touching my chicken!

I like to just keep my hand in now and again…

My most black sorrow

Like pitch it sticks to my insides

Lungs fill with it’s acrid darkness and I choke

Spitting and cursing your name as it cooks me from within

And so serves me up on a platter of regret and guilt

As the crows feast on my eyes, devouring my soft pink tongue

And the rats feast and rutt in my rancid entrails


 

Whoah….that’s all a bit much isn’t it.

Sometimes I like to see if I can write like other people and come up with some twisted dark shit but mostly I prefer stick figures being filthy.  Guess it takes all sorts right…

asfasfasfasfasf

 

You know this might be my first attempt at a political cartoon though to be honest I think the symbolism is far too obvious.  Plus my eagle looks like a big chicken and I was a bit wary of actually drawing pictures of men having sex with gigantic birds then I thought the kids might see it and…well..so mostly the whole thing just gets a bit weird but hey, perhaps there is still a cause to be fought for out there.   Some sort of anti  American chicken fuckers alliance.  Hmm.

 Perhaps I should just go to bed.

Balls to you October

See ya later!

 As Blogging months go I really didn’t enjoy October one bit.  It was filled with excuses and distractions and I found very little joy in the whole experience and got myself into a bit of a hole with it all.

I’ve been doing this since last July and I was certainly at my least inspired and uncreative but I wont go as far as to call it writer’s block because there would be the presumption that I am a writer and that is something I just cant really come to terms with.  It was more a matter of not being able to quite find the time to do it properly.

I started a new job a short while ago so am actually having to work for my money which is a real pain in the arse I tell you and at night I was finding myself far too weary when I eventually sat in front of the keyboard so mostly I just went to sleep instead or sulked a bit. 

Now the urges and ideas were still there that wasn’t the problem.  My head is always full of dirty limericks and images of stick people finger banging each other and I am never short of an idea for a bit of a story but time just seemed to conspire against me.  Or at least I let it.

Interestingly my diet also suffered during the month which I wrote about here and I think maybe that was part of the problem.  My discipline in general had gone to pot and across the board I was finding myself unproductive and rather jaded and allowing myself to find excuses wherever they presented themselves.

Anyway, as November loomed I decided bollocks to the excuses and given that I was off today planted my arse in front of the laptop for the day and forced myself to get back on the horse I have so enjoyed riding this last year.  I forced myself to write whatever old bollocks I could muster and you know what, I have enjoyed it immensely.  It’s hardly great stuff but it’s my stuff and I cracked a smile when I did it and I felt rather relaxed by it all which is great because It has caused me some stress at times  which is just ridiculous.

Ive managed maybe ten pieces today which is great but mostly I have enjoyed feeling creative again.  Yes I didn’t feed the kids and absolutely I should have made them do something productive instead of leaving them to do whatever it is they got up to all day, but it was more important for me to do what I needed to do because I far less grumpy and dickish when I am being creative.  I never received any notifications that I had been charged for anything so I think I got away lightly.

I think November will be better.   

This mostly resulted in me gagging a lot…

The one where I take the freezer to the tip…

Okay so this involves a freezer, a trip to the tip and my weak constitution.  There are a few photos and videos too…you can make sense of it I am sure.

 

 

 

 

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Up yours Alanis Morisette

In 1995 Alanis Morisette went on and on about things that aren’t ironic being very much so. 

In 1995 Alanis Morisette went on and on about things that aren’t ironic being very much so.  All that nonsense about rain on your wedding day and a free ride when you’ve already paid.  That’s not ironic, it’s just poor weather – something she could quite well have foreseen by checking a weather forecast and bad timing.  I actually don’t think the woman has a clue what irony actually is.

I will tell you what irony is though shall I.  Irony is when you write a post about backing up and then install a WordPress widget as part of the process and that widget causes a major issue with your WordPress site which in due course necessitates the use of that back up to fix the issues the back up process caused.

It even caused my blog to lose the ability to have people follow it which the WordPress folk explained was should have been expected when installing a widget or downloading a non WordPress theme on my plan and they also very kindly acknowledged that yes, they probably ought to point this out.  Good of them I thought.

5 days later, a reset of my site to the 9th of April and an ongoing hassle with trying to get things back to normal and hopefully I will soon be able to get back to some writing again.  Lessons learned I guess…Not really sure what they are yet though maybe Alanis has a song about it.

3 months later…

So, seems there are a number of milestones I have almost hit with my blog after some experimentation this month.

So, seems there are a number of milestones I have almost hit with my blog after some experimentation this month.  I upped my outputs, introducing a couple of daily themed limericks and haiku and then looked to do at least one fiction piece and one challenge piece each day also and it has certainly kept me busy and given me the chance to write some different pieces.

I fiddled around with timings to see how and when they would get the best coverage and when I had a look today it seems I’ve doubled or tripled the views, likes, visitors and comments from month 1 to month 3.

I don’t think I like it though.

All seemed rather planned and thought out and it became something of a burden so I won’t be doing that anymore.  I think I shall simply return to writing whenever I can and publishing it in the evening.  Nice and simple, no compulsion to have to produce anything for any when.

I think I might write a little less too.  Not that I don’t enjoy it I do – very much – but I think I need a bit more balance.  This last month I have churned out a stack of stuff on all manner of things as I have really been enjoying the writing but it has got in the way of life and that just won’t do.

Looking back at some of the stuff I have written I think perhaps I might try focus a little more on a few of the pieces I’ve started but never finished and to try and be a bit more disciplined when it comes to finishing things before I head off on another tangent.  I am certain I have quite a  few ‘Part 1’ pieces on the blog somewhere that deserve a little attention.

On the plus side, I’m rather chuffed that I have done nearly 200 pieces and had more than 2000 visitors. who have liked my work plenty.  Feels great to be able to connect with people who follow my stuff regularly and next week I am guest blogger for someone that’s been following me from early doors which I am looking forward to immensely.

I had always said to myself that I would give it a couple of months to see whether I could write a bit and whether I liked blogging and I think on the whole I do, so I think I will keep doing it.

I still have too many limericks about Donald Trump inside to stop now, and thanks for all of your support!

Michael

 

 

 

 

 

 

I set myself a challenge this week…

Just how much could I do in one week?

If my wife sees this then she might remark, “Not a lot”, and that would probably be fair.

At the outset of the week I set myself a challenge of getting onto WordPress a lot of the ideas I had stored up and to just see what I was capable of spewing out over 7 days.  In addition to writing I also set myself the challenge of reading as much as I could too.  A kind of total immersive experience.

As a bit of context, I have a job and a family and other commitments so it was very much a case of seeing what I could fit in where.  I do a typical 8-4 in a large bank running a team of programmers, the boys have rugby Wednesday and Thursday evenings, it was my nephew’s birthday on Wednesday and I didn’t get out of work until well after 6 on Friday.  Oh, most of Saturday and Sundays are spent doing something rugby related somewhere in Yorkshire too – so time is at a premium.

So how did it go?

Well by the time this is published I think I will have managed in the region of 27 posts during the week and have read somewhere in the ball park of 300 other peoples articles.

When it comes to reading it was simply a case of getting up one hour early each day (at least) and spending from 5.30 am to 6.30 am reading, liking, commenting or sometimes skipping over other peoples work.  A week or two ago I actually read every single post in The Daily Prompt.  Over 200.  I think it was on flavour.

There was some great stuff that I have taken inspiration from, new people I am now following and I seem to have picked up new followers on the way.  If I had something constructive or really enjoyed a piece I said so, I didn’t just constantly like, I tried very much to engage in what I was doing and with the author.

As for writing, it was very much a case of being disciplined and creative with my time.

I planned the week, did a spreadsheet of what I wanted to do each day and tracked it day by day.  Many of my pieces were related to weekly challenges from other bloggers so knowing what came out when was key.

So after a week I seem to have produced :

  • 7 Daily limericks plus one Sunday Limerick piece
  • 10 Pieces of flash fiction or micro fiction stories
  • 5 Haiku posts, some in response to other peoples challenges
  • half a dozen commentary type pieces, often based on what’s been going on in the world.

Each night I would try grab an hour or more after the kids were in bed, and if I was helping them with their homework I would perhaps write when I was doing that – either in my note book or on my tablet.  I’ve watched less TV too.  Something had to give.

At work I was more disciplined about taking a lunch break and would use 30 to 40 minutes writing.  I will also admit to writing a fair few limericks on some of the more tedious calls I have to attend from time to time.

One morning I took the youngest to tutoring which is 45 minutes, and in that time as I waited I managed to write the outline for 3 more short stories, so waste not want not.

I then proceeded to post 3 or 4 a day.  Was it necessary?  Could I have stored them up? I simply wanted to write, I wasn’t really bothered by those sort of thoughts.  I may post nothing this next week, and if that’s the case then so be it.

As for the numbers, not something I spend a lot of time worrying about, but it was by far my best week ever.  I do know I had more likes, comments, views and visitors than any other week, and I don’t think my quality was greatly diminished – I still tried to do my best with the things I tackled.

I did think I might have been short of inspiration for so many pieces but I was surprised by just how much I still had left by the end of the week – I think I now have more ideas that I started with.  It feels to me like the creative process, once stimulated, really can run away with itself.

That’s just my experience though, I have only been doing this for a few months so don’t claim to know much about this lark – I only know I enjoy doing it.

Michael