Equality and Understanding

Right, it has been brought to my attention that a few elements of my conversation and dialogue, on and off the internet, are apparently slightly politically correct. The seems stupid, since I'm so far from being politically incorrect that if I made my own country, I would immediately create a racist term to use in reference to the people who lived there. Therefore I am probably the least politically correct person alive.

Jokes are insincere comments made to entertain. They are only intended to make political statements if made in a situation which lends itself to political argument. Sometimes words like "White", "Black" and "Yellow" are just colour choices. Men and women are just gender labels. Equality is more present now than ever before. If you have beef with something, I'm a vegetarian - I mean to say I want no part of your issues. I, personally, cannot change the world and it is unlikely I will be able to do so in the near future or at your convenience. Repeating to me that women are paid less, or that society is racist, or whatever, is not going to achieve much besides the passage of sarcasm from my lips pertaining to your choice of audience.

I personally do not seriously judge people on inherited traits or appearance. I joke about it doing so a lot however.

I would just like to clarify certain instances of this non-pc attitude. When I use a derisive discrimination term, it is either in jest or because I hate whoever I am aiming it at. Usually the former, but on occasion the latter causes my obtuseness.

The use of the term 'midget' in a previous post was intended as an insult. I do not like the short person in question. My best friend at home, and one of my new friends here, are both 'vertically challenged' or whatever the term is and I have no problem with them. Quite the contrary, I enjoy spending time with them immensely. I do not insult them because short people because they are short, I insult them because I do not like them.

Similarly my room mate is Chinese. Guess what he gets called in jest? He copes. People need to loosen up. Yes, I make black jokes too. Black people are not stupid or inferior. That's just insane. However, it is funny when someone pretends to be racist as a joke. I'm sure you've all borne witness to something along these lines. If you haven't tell me where you live and I'll come entertain you for awhile.

I'm sure I'll get a tirade of criticism from people who think the phrase "racism can be funny" is sinful and I deserve banishment to the further reaches of hell, but let's face it everyone has made a comment like that at some stage. "White boy", "Snow", "Jesus-Freak", "Infidel", "Heathen" and "French" can all be used, and have been used, in a derisive manner, which means that its discrimination (racist). To be honest, I'm not offended when people call me a white British upper-class bastard, because I AM white, I AM British, I am certain I was, in fact, born within wedlock and while I'm not upper-class its hardly an insult really.

Just because someone calls you "Black" or "Muslim" doesn't mean they're being racist; even if they're wrong how are they supposed to know that you're Afro-Caribbean or Tanzanian or what religion you come from? And you certainly shouldn't get offended if they call you black and you are. I mean, that just sounds like you're the one with discriminatory views, right?

Stereotyping is not exactly right or polite, but everyone does it and its kind of accepted by most people. However, for some reason certain stereotypes have become known as "racist". Why is racist to insult some one because they're black, but it's fine to insult someone because they're white? Don't talk about slavery. Just don't; white people are living with that stigma now more than black people. I personally never held slaves, nor have been involved in their trade, and so I don't know why I should suffer derision for something someone else did. Go spit on THEIR grave, insult THEIR mother. Hell, I don't think my family ever had slaves so I can hardly be held responsible even by proxy.

Equality and understanding isn't the absence of terminology, its the acceptance. We can't make it illegal to say certain words, because that countermands our right of free speech. Learn to deal with history, because it's already happened and we can't change it. If I call someone a stupid Indian and they are Indian then the only insult there is that they are stupid.

Alternatively if someone calls me a racist white chauvinist pig, then the only insult there is that I'm a pig. Still, it could have been worse; they could have called me a woman.

Pros and Cons

I'll start this with the statement; None and birth. If you don't understand, I'll explain later.

The problem with advertising my blog on facebook is that everyone who knows me might read it. To be honest, I wouldn't be that worried but sarcasm - my primary form of communication - doesn't translate that well over the ether.

So I went out last night. I had a lot of fun, made some new friends. Got in trouble with one of them, but hopefully she'll forgive me. Either that or she'll come after my blood, which would be a little scary.

Met up with a few of them today around lunch and chatted for a while, was entertaining.

Yes, this entry's turning a little diary-esque. I'm sorry people, what can you do? I've pretty much exhausted my opinion on the 'evils' of alcohol. The girl I was interested in has blown me off for about a fortnight now, if anyone cares, but I'm fine. It's not like she promised me the world is it?

you'll all have to cope with this mediocrity for now, I'm going to go entertain myself. Toodle pip.

Here we go again

So last night was pretty good until I got back, than a particular midget ruined it all for me. In fact, she ruined for me at the house party by stopping her pseudo-boyfriend from being my wingman on the basis that he wasn't allowed to talk to other women. At all. Oh, and then she told me I shouldn't be chatting up girls anyway because I had a girlfriend.

Epic.
Fail.

I came back early and rekindled a couple of old acquaintances which improved my mood somewhat. And then the midget ruined it again. I'm not exactly ready to go out and do the whole party thing just yet, but I'm trying. It's just a shame that one of my friends out here has a limpet attached to him that won't let him enjoy anything at all.

Thursday was entertaining though; I got accused of being pro-dictatorship - which to be honest I am, if the dictator is competent. Autocracy is not necessarily evil. However, I then got accused almost in the same breath of being pro-slavery, because I was pro-dictatorship. Pointing out that the United States had been a pro-slavery democracy for around a third of its existence won that argument, but predictably alienated me from the rest of the class. Fantastic. It's good that students can keep their emotions out of intellectual arguments.

I'm coming to the conclusion that, pending a freak midget-death or divine intervention, I'm not going to find anyone out here. Maybe I'm just not ready to make a real attempt at finding or seducing someone, but I don't know, Maybe it's not worth my time.

I just feel more useless than jelly in a blender right now. Let's face it, blogging is the refuge of the socially crippled so my being here might suggest that I'm so far from being ready to go out I may as well be on the moon.

Frustration abounds.

So life is kind of rubbish again tonight. I recently discovered someone had read and bothered to comment on one of my posts, which elated me somewhat.

Unfortunately I'm still single and have no one immediately present who is interested in me while my ex is probably telling the guy she left me for that he's the most incredible thing ever and enjoying the consequences of her choices. More unfortunately I cannot realise to her the bad choices of her decisions. I'm not even real to her, apparently, because I'm not there.

I know she doesn't sound like the grreatest person on Earth, nor one that someone looking for commitment and loyalty, example moi, would look for. But she was once. I don't really want her back, I'm still dealing with the emotional crap she left me with. Joy.

I could write more. I could moan and bitch and whine about what happened but I don't want to.

I just want to be back in England. Now.

Sunday night live!

Yeah, that's right. Exactly what it says on the box. A cheap attempt to make something amazing based on something already successful.

It didn't work. I have a four day weekend. Most people would consider that immense, but I have nothing to do. All day. Four days in a row. Of nothing. This comes of actually doing my work on the day I get set it, like you're always told in school. But guess what people, they were wrong!

I was right baby!

If you save your work for when you're bored, you don't get stir crazy.

Now if you'll pardon my leaving, I'm going to throw myself out a window to see if I feel anything. I'll let you guys know.

Dance! Dance! Dance! Ford Capris!

Have you ever listened to a dance song? I mean actually listened to the lyrics. They're insane, semantically. I know many people know this but how many people truly appreciate the madness of dance lyrics that make them get up and dance like rabid raccoons on crack?

to explain this train of thought, I've recently come into possession of a Basshunter album. "Now you're gone" Is a collection of inspiring rhythms that instantly makes me a happier person just by hearing them - probably because Swedish girls are involved somewhere by proxy. However since I've been going to bed earlier than usual I've let the album play on repeat as I go to sleep. The have been two upshots of this; I'm learning some very basic Swedish and have realised just how bad the lyrics are.

I'm not sure entirely what most of the songs are about in the first place, and the lyrics haven't helped overly much. "Now you're gone" is probably the easiest one to figure out, but the video shows the couple getting back together, even while the lyrics go on about how much they miss each other. Despite being right there, dancing maybe half a gnat's foreskin distance from each other.

Then there's "All I ever wanted". To begin with this might seem to be a song about trying to get a girl back, but after a little thought and exploration the lyrics seem applicable in a number of circumstances. For instance, it could be an apologetic song about how he did something to try and make her happy that went wrong. Or it could be sung post-mortem after he accidentally killed her.

"Dream girl" confuses me greatly, I think it's about a girl wanting a guy back. Or possibly a celebration of two people who have found their soul mates. Or a prostitute's advertising campaign.

I'm just not sure about "Bass creator". Any song that's first line is missing a word and the lyrics seem to have no relation to it's title while contradicting themselves kind of transcends in depth investigation.

"I can walk on water" doesn't need analysis. Or it does, just more than I've given it. There's only so much meaning you can get from a song in which the main lyric is "La lala lalala lala".

Having translated both "Dota" and "Boten Anna", one will discover they are in fact about computer games - "Dota" more obviously to anyone who has any idea what DotA is, but a look at the lyrics in English reveals a lot about "Boten Anna".

I'm not trying to bring Mr.Basshunter's music down, not in any way at all. I think it is one of the greatest gifts from one man to his species EVER. I am in fact listening to the album as I type this. On repeat. Endlessly. Because there is nothing wrong with it.

Despite my comments on the lyrics, it is still fantastic to listen to.

Other dance songs that need to have their lyrics looked at include "9pm (til I come)", "Holy Virgin","Born Slippy", the apparently timeless classic "Doctor Pressure" and every song ever written by The Prodigy. None of them really make any sense, or in fact have any kind of explanation beyond 'Well the words sound good in that order'. They all, however, manage to make people feel better.

Now if you'll excuse me I'm afraid I can't fight the pull of the music any longer and must go dance like a rabid raccoon on some kind of mind-altering drug. Ecstasy sounds good.

A type of tipsy education

I want you all to know I'm breaking my personal religion and eating Chinese food with a fork so I can write this at the same time.

This note stems from a discussion (sic; see 'argument') with one of my TA's. In lecture she claimed that if you had 15+ alcoholic units a week, regularly, then you were by definition an alcoholic. A quick bit of maths revealed this was the equivalent of having a pint with dinner every day.

I, understandably, took offense. Those who know me will appreciate why. Hell, anyone from Europe would. For all those who don't know me, I had fifteen units last night, and will be doing so again this Friday and Saturday in at least equal quantities.

My TA, who I don't think could comprehend how misinformed she was, then dropped another bomb: Apparently consuming 150 units in a single week was very likely to cause irreparable liver damage.

This is an organ that can regrow bits that get chopped off. I'm sure 150/units a week continually over an extended period could have lasting effects, but in one week?

I had to intervene; this was just not true. If anyone cares to recall how much I drank the week I turned 18 (including both the Pub outing AND the party in the hall with the yard glass) will know I must of had in excess of 150 units. Doing that every week, maybe. But not once in a blue moon.

Oh, and let's not forget that week in Dublin.

I made these points to my TA, quite calmly, and she called me a liar. Openly, in front of all my peers. I asked her if she knew how much a unit was, and she claimed she did. I then asked her if she knew what a pint was, and she told me she didn't see how that was relevant.

Pint. Alcohol. Pretty damn relevant, right?

At this point several of my class mates starting raising points against her statements, probably born from memories of some of their experiences with alcohol. But no, we were all wrong. The TA said European units were different, that we were lying to show off, she said these were scientific facts.

I said that they weren't, or if they were that science had got it very, very wrong.

Seriously, I dread to think how much I drank in Dublin. Enough to kill the average American family, apparently.

I have two friends back home who regularly consume about three litres of spirits every week. I'm not saying that's necessarily a good thing, I'm just pointing out that they're still alive. Kind of proves my TA wrong.

Maybe my TA should just get out more

I See Girls

This is a long over due post, at least if the trends of other personal blogs are to be believed.

I am, as you all may have guessed, a young, hot blooded male. And right now attractive girls seem to be flooding out of doors to cross my path. I'm definitely not complaining. Except that it happens now, when Buffalo is under three foot of snow and not in August when the sun melted clothes of people. Literally.

Although I think seeing attractive girls going around in more clothes is a plus - kind of - in that they don't look like the kind of sluts that you can aids from just by looking at. There was a girl on the bus on the way back from campus that was drop dead gorgeous. I would of talked to her but I suffered a sudden and severe failure of self-esteem and bottled it.

Also I recognised her from last term as one of the girls I met in passing and while this gave me a lot of lines to start off a new conversation the aforementioned attack of self-hate made me think that she'd hate me for not staying in touch. And why didn't I stay in touch with this amazingly good looking girl?

That's pretty much it. She's drop dead gorgeous. And I didn't want my girlfriend to think I was thinking of cheating on her. Oh, the irony visited upon me by reality.

Sardonic comments aside, now is a time for a fresh start.
And a start I have made. Let's see how much fun I can have.

Oh look, the bottle's empty....

So I'm drunk again.

This time I was out with friends but to be honest I would of drunk a bit anyway. I'm a little worried about this trend but since I'm running out of alcohol and I can't legally buy it anyway here in the States I can only do this for so long before I have to stop. And as it is, it's not a trend that is negatively affecting my life so I don't think it's a serious issue.

Although having spelled "life" as "laugh" the first time may be a Freudian slip which demonstrates how my self esteem is really doing. I still love me so it's fine. Right?

I'd like to say I only drank tonight because I went out with friends, but that's not true. It was kind of an excuse, I think I would have done it anyway. But to be honest being an alcoholic isn't necessarily a bad thing; General Grant was such an alcoholic he couldn't always manage stairs alone but he still won the civil war. I'm sure I'll be fine.

I just feel really alone. I don't even have anyone I can drunk text. That might sound stupid, but look at it closely; I have no one on this continent that I feel secure enough around and with that I am willing to embarrass myself by texting when I'm close to incoherent. And there's no one I can really talk to around. It's not that I don't have friends here, it's just that they don't know me like my friends back home do. I need a hug from someone who is willing and comfortable to wait until I'm done, and I don;t have anyone like that here.

Applicants, please come forward.

I'm moving on and finding other girls to talk to and flirt with etc but my crippling self hate concerning my appearance kind of plays against me. I try to work though it but it's hard to hate the habit of a life time. I don't know why I think I'm unattractive, I just do.

Maybe my arrogance is a defense mechanism and really I just think I'm not as good as other people.

Hang on...

Hang. On.

That's true. I'm not as good. I'm better than other people. I just need to find someone who helps me get back in touch with that fact. In Buffalo. Soon.

I guess I'll have to hope that the dice favour me again. Let's hope my luck holds.

God help me, because at the moment it seems no one else will.

The insecurity of imperfection.

No, this is not another depressive post. It will, in fact, be quite arrogant in this post. Sorry people, but the real me is BACK!

Those who know me may have mixed feelings about my return to the casual arrogance I carry myself with, seeing as how it gives me an almost impenetrable shield to hide behind while at the same time I seem to care for how others feel. The key word there is "seem". Of course I care ho others feel. Otherwise I wouldn't have friends, and if I didn't have friends I wouldn't know how amazing I was, would I?

Don't you hate me already, readers?

Well go ahead. It's fine. I'm still single, not drop dead gorgeous or bedazzlingly charming and/or intelligent. Doesn't mean I'm not better than you. And yes, 'bedazzlingly' is a word. As of now.

Sadly a friend of mine has started an almost identical blog to mine, in which he speaks of those menial things that I said I wouldn't. So if you don't want to hear about how amazing I feel you can go read it. However, if you are willing to wait for me to write something witty and entertaining and not self-centered then stick around.

I have to go do something social now, my friends demand it. Enjoy yourselves tonight readers, I play to ;)

Singing (loosely termed) for absolution

I'm rather drunk as I write this so forgive a lack of spelling, grammar, intelligence and wit.

So now i'm the bad guy, even by my own reckoning - not completely, and certainly not in a greater way, but I haven't really behaved as maturely as I could have. I don't really know what to do now so I'm stuck drinking and making sarcastic comments. How the mighty have fallen and do hide behind unfit walls.

Today was good, mostly. I made new friends in my lecture and enjoyed the fact that I get to watch trainspotting in February for academic purposes. You know the world is getting confused when a film like that is called educational. But hey, I can't complain; I'm just a student and it's not like my opinion influences how things are taught, right? I just foot the bill.

As mentioned before, I'm drinking. although I don't really know why. I'm not too depressed any more - which is not to say I'm fine, or that I don't feel bad but I'm past the worst of it. At least I think so. Might just be the eye of the storm. I'm not going out either, not for a few days, so it's certainly not pre-drinking unless I'm going for an extreme night out. Which I doubt. And I'm kind of drinking out of reflex, because I'm used to, which is a bad sign in itself.

I guess I'm confused and don't know what to do. Quite why becoming inebriated will aid me is beyond my comprehension so I should probably stop.

However there's vodka still left in the bottle so I guess rationality will have to wait. I;ll see you later, I'm going to get lost in a liquid embrace.

Back in town

I'm really enjoying being back in Buffalo. Drink, friends, a distinct lack of work...yeah, being a student has never been more challenging. I even got to hang out with my new best friend Caitlin last night, we went out to get something to drink. She is also very attractive and blond, so the universe appears to be following its new trend concerning me and women. I can only hope it continues.

She helped take my mind of things and cheered me up a lot. We're going out again soon. I can't wait. Although she has a boyfriend so friendship and flirting is as far as it's going. At the moment. Who knows about the future? I certainly don't, that's been proven.

I got told by my home university that I needed to pick different classes from the ones I have chosen. This would have been helpful information a month ago when I sent them a list of my classes to be checked so not all the history courses would be closed.

Everyone, that is, besides Polish Minorities. Does that sound emphatically interesting?

No? Good. Otherwise you'd be a very boring person. Or Polish, but even then it's up for debate.

As yet I have not found a new object for my affection but to be honest it's a bit soon. I haven't even started a grading system, let alone a personality assessment test. Fear not loyal fans, I shall let you know when this come into being and what they are. Hopefully it should be amusing for you all.

For now I must go enjoy life, so until next time, ciao. Any auditions for being the object of my affection should be emailed to me, along with a head-shot and full body shot, clothes optional at applicants discretion.

The boys are back in town

So all my hall mates got back today. I'm a happy man. AND already trying to get drunk. God bless America.

For all of of those who are wondering who I am and what I've done with the real Jon Chadrock, fear not. I'm just having fun and on a bit of a sugar high. The alcohol probably helps too. Having peer pressured two friends into a couple of ill advised purchases, I foresee and evening of irresponsibility ahead of me. I can't wait. Hopefully find a couple of new friends too.

So what the Hell?

I hate it when people lie to me.
HATE IT. Especially when they try their best to tell the truth even as they lie to you, and look you in the eye and pour honesty and love into the lie and beg your kindness to believe them. And I hate it when you give them that trust they want, even when you're not sure they deserve it, and then they throw it back in your face because they lied.

TELL THE FUCKING TRUTH PEOPLE! It gives something that everyone is meant to have, integrity. Unfortunately for me, integrity isn't something that inspires love or affection or loyalty, sadly.

Guess where this came from? No prizes I'm afraid. And she wont even read this so it doesn't matter.

I don't have issues trusting people. I just have issues with certain people. Which would be sovled if they told the truth. I don't care why people lie, I would always, always, ALWAYS prefer the truth. Makes my life easier.

Manning Up

Well I'm back in Buffalo now and moving on from all that depressive crap. It can't be good for the soul and to be honest it just feels like shit. So moving on is the order of the day. Or trying to.

I arrived to find that my new roommate had arrived. His name is Ku and is from South Korea. He's a nice guy and, while his English is a little fractured, he seems intelligent enough to work round it. Looks like he'll cope okay with us. Until Paul moons the room.

Ku, however, was not the most interesting person I met today. Sadly for him, that title belongs to a girl named Kate I met on the plane from wherever the hell I was to Buffalo. God seems to have taken pity on me and so, by His grace, I am having attractive blond American girls accompany whenever I go somewhere in a vehicle not a taxi. I believe it is time for me to use public transport more often.

Kate was engaging and interesting to talk to, although not as much as Steph from the Greyhound on either account, and made the trip much more pleasant. She also said that she'd introduce me to her friend who loves the English. This can only be a good thing.

I was also treated to a rather fantastic smile from my new friend as we left the airport and a very heartwarming goodbye. It's a pity she goes to Penn State. Oh well, plenty of fish I guess.

Tomorrow I have the return of my friends to look forward to. I plan to get very drunk and drown my sorrows in the proverbial pool of sympathy that should well up from pretty American girls who desire to comfort a grieving English lad. Or will if I can bring myself to let them, which is honestly unknown at the moment. They'll have to have a really good accent.

Definitely not from Long Island. Or I could just go find Elisha Cuthbert I guess. Here's to hoping, folks.

What's a Guy to do?

So this week has been...interesting. And emotional. I've spent it with an recently ex-girlfriend who already has another guy chasing her. And he's chasing hard. I'm loathe to discuss this overly much as I still get on with her and she may end up reading this. I have to say though, even putting the personal element aside, I'm unimpressed with both of their behaviours.

I wont go into why for her, but he just gives me the distinct impression that he isn't a good guy. Admittedly, I've never met him so can't say for sure but generally guys have a good judgement when it comes to other men. Yes, this is a little personal but he just isn't doing what a good person would do in the situation, namely be understanding, sensitive and give her some space.

It's upsetting her and pissing me off. If I ever meet him I will feed him his own organs. Or make him read inane blogs about nothing forever. While on fire.

Aside from all that emotional baggage, this week's been pretty good. I got a new toy, a shiny one that makes me happy :) it plays music and has a half decent selection method. Unlike my last one, which looked like a sex toy for midgets.

I'm looking forward to going back to Buffalo a lot. there are many reasons but mostly I'm looking forward to seeing all my friends again. This may shock some of my English friends, since I have often spouted reasons why America should be removed from the map. This are however known to be jokes, at least by those who understand that sincerity is rarely associated with what I say unless I'm angry. In actuality I have had a fantastic experience of America until recently and I am going to refuse to let it phase my enjoyment of my year here.

Also being single now means I can stop behaving like a misogynist pig and actual utilise the charm God graciously gifted me with. Until now I've been careful about what I say and do, but since the reason I did no longer exists by her own decision I'm free to do as I want.

So...cheerleaders?

Having said that the Buffalo cheerleading squad isn't exactly up to expected standards. I have a friend at USC however so I will be visiting him shortly, with luck. The is a dancing squad though who most certainly deliver in attractiveness.

This asks for an investigation. Purely for the good of mankind.

Since I'm a man that statement isn't false. It's just selfish. I can cope with that.

Travelling (ii)

Travelling (2)

So now I’m in Buffalo NY, my half way over night stop for my trip. I’m pumping out all those European dance tunes that I know the Americans just love from my laptop and am expecting a knock or phone call about it soon. For now, I’m just going to enjoy being able to stay in one place without worrying for the next 12 hours.

The Greyhound journey was fantastic, mainly due to the company I kept. The blonde I mentioned before did not in fact come to Buffalo, but another went to Niagara Falls in Canada and we chatted for just about the entire trip. Having never found a suitable Greyhound travel-companion before this was a greatly appreciated turn of events.

Steph was entertaining and engaging and listen to my spiel about stuff attentively. I could not have wished for more. Except possibly that she could have been in a cheerleader uniform. While not the most drop dead gorgeous woman I have met, she was still quite attractive. Even with the Canadian accent.

Customs was uneventful this time I crossed the Canadian-American border, but since there was only five of us on the bus this was not really a surprise. The Korean guy sent up a few red flags but his papers checked out enough. Having Taxi’d my way to a hotel I’ve already started abusing the AC and free TV. Unfortunately there’s nothing good on. Oh well. At least I’m warm and I don’t really about hearing the TV while I’ve got my music.

Short post I’m afraid, I’ve got to go back to air guitar. It requires dedication. Peace out.

Travelling (i)

It was going so well. I got up on time, got to the airport with plenty of time, checked in ok and boarded. The flight was tedious but I found entertainment in using the interactive TV’s on the chair backs and spotted a couple of pretty girls on the same plane – although the furthest I got with any of them was letting one use the toilet before me. Unsurprisingly she didn’t seem interested in making conversation and maybe flirting wedged with me between the plane wall and central divide. Oh well, no mile high club for me just yet…

No problems at Toronto either, just no internet (hence the delayed posting of this piece). Got off the plane, walked about half a mile to customs and was waved through when I wielded my British passport like a shield. The taxi, while expensive, was fairly quick and happily lacking in unpleasantness. After a brief spat of confusion at the Greyhound station about my bus time I found somewhere to wait and eat. I got my food and found a table.

And then it all went wrong. Instead of putting salt on my chips (fries) I reached for the first white-substance container I saw.

It was sugar.

Worse, I only figured out why my food tasted funny after about three mouthfuls of chips. They are currently sitting beside me and are reaching room temperature as I type this. Fortunately the burger was pretty much unpolluted by sweetener, artificial or otherwise, so I coped with that and a bacon sandwich.

There’s a fire engine outside the Red Lobster opposite me; it says “hazardous materials” on the side. I’m glad I decided against going there then. While this suggests I’m neglecting the opportunity to explore Toronto I’m really not; I’ve been here before and had a little look around. This time I went the other way out of the Greyhound station and found a couple of shops that sell impulse-buy brick-a-brack which usually entices me. At the time however I reasoned that I had little Canadian pretend-money left and had better save it in case I got hungry again later.

I did however meet a couple of tramps/buskers playing bagpipes and joined them for a while singing made up songs to the noise they made on their demonic sonic-warfare artillery in my best Scottish accent – which I do not think is fantastic and would probably get me killed in Scotland but the passersby seemed to like it well enough. A few even stopped for a while and several gave money. One mother urged her child to go give a five dollar (Canadian) note to the “nice Scottish boy who was singing”. I cannot even begin to describe what is wrong with that sentence. Three out of five words, at least. I got to keep some of the money for my time and efforts and the other two guys were great to talk to for a bit. By this time however it was getting close to my bus time so I headed back to the station, only to discover that I had managed to miscalculate the time difference.

So I thought I’d blog some more because apparently you have to put a lot of work into this whole blog thing. I’m not sure that sits right with me ethically but we’ll have to see. I’m also intermittedly talking to a girl I helped find a power point for her phone between her conversations with just about everybody in Ontario who has a mobile phone she can call. It’s fun though, and she’s quite pretty so I’m sure I’ll find a way to cope. Maybe she’s coming to Buffalo too? I should be so lucky. I’ll cross my fingers anyway.

I wonder if anyone actually reads these posts? Something else I’ll have to wait to find the answer to. Be good to know someone cares, but I guess that’s why everybody and their mate has started a blog; they just want someone to care about what they say.

The HazMat fire engine just left, apparently red lobsters safe. I might go and see what there is to eat there, because as predicted I’m hungry again. Hopefully the other customers won’t be sprouting tentacles because of irradiated food. Although I guess I could always try putting sugar on my food again as a preventative measure.

Going Official

Let's face it, everyone wants to be appreciated.

Attention, accolades, awards, acceptance; nearly any form of appreciation is welcomed by people in general. Why should I be different? Maybe there's an argument based on individuality and striking out against the norm but to be honest everyone's different anyway so realistically people are actually just more or less successful at conforming or not conforming. Not all punks are the same and not all goths are either - it's just sometimes the differences are difficult to spot below the stained and stigmatised surface.

I am aware that "Going official" is not as exciting a title as "My rampant threesome in Zimbabwe" but I feel it's more suitable, mainly as I have never been to Zimbabwe, but mainly as I've now stopped polluting my facebook profile with notes about whatever has recently caught my train of thought for longer than an hour or two. After A friend explained it was pretty much the same thing, here I am. Going official.

I fear people who hope this blog will turn into a wild torrent of sexual exploits and titillating thrills so that they can escape a life so boring it has stopped them being able to find these things for themselves will be disappointed. I am not in the habit of sharing my personal life, at least until after it's no longer personal, so if its sexploits and sexercise you're hoping to find here you'd best get on your bike and move on.

Although there will be recurring references to Elisha Cuthbert. Just take a moment to think about that; if you read my blog I will reward you with images of Elisha Cuthbert. In varying contexts.

If you don't know who she is, either the Online University of Google or the miracle of Wikipedia can enlighten you. Once you have found out my offer may be more tempting.

Another thing I will not be doing is talking about my day-to-day life generally in every post. One of the first blogs I read was so dully mundane that it made me want to tear my eyes out and feed them to a small goat. While appreciate that not everybody gets up, takes a shower, watches TV goes to work, and comes home to eat and watch mroe TV, possibly going out later, it is in fact something that I can do myself. I do not want to read about how someone else was ooo-ing and ah-ing over whether to go out with a friend after I've done just that and decided against it. My advice to people who decide not to go out is don't read blogs! You'll get caught in a nearly endless loop of mass indecision about social activities. It's not worth it. Just go out instead.

Nor will I post images of attractive friends or celebrities for the simple reason of enticing bored gamers who want to be entertained mildly while the wait for enough people to join their party on WoW. If you want that kind of quick, cheap and easy thrill go Google Elisha Cuthbert.

What I will be doing is attempting to entertain you in an intellectually stimulating manner. Mostly. I hope you enjoy reading future posts that actually have a point, but for now I must fly - I have to decide whether I should go out tonight or read indecisive blogs.