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Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations WTF is that?

My Alcohol Trap

I think (and fucking pray) I’m not the only one who has self-defeating patterns.  As mine play out, they increase my inner sense of self-loathing and defeat.  An example of this would be smoking (I’m not a smoker btw) as most people don’t want to smoke and will often feel shit for smoking and will escape this shit feeling my smoking more and so it goes on and on. 

The vices are all like this I suppose – drugs, gambling, hookers and porn.  Are they all the vices? A vice is something that is immoral or evil so on that basis the list is endless.  Religion should be on the list for definite, so should bad shoes, Postman fuckin Pat and twatty sales-people who want to push shit on you for heir own means.  These are all evil and immoral.  As well as being vices, the standard ones (drugs, booze etc) are also fun.  By virtue of the man in the sky, being a good person renders you to an eternity in heaven but you’re not allowed to do these fun things – this is not my idea of heaven.  If you snuck booze and hookers into heaven, would you be evicted??

Anyhoo, we digress.  Self-defeating patterns!  One of mine is alcohol related.  I love alcohol.  I like the taste, the elements of drinking culture, being in pubs, feeling pissed and how booze can affect my behaviours.  I tend not to get bad hangovers so I do not feel ill that often either which is fab in one way but is also a massive enabler to drink too much.  I can convince myself that there’s no real negative consequences as I can still function ok (I function ok, but not necessarily well). 

So here’s the pattern.  I like to feel good and have fun.  Alcohol helps with that whether I’m with my partner or friends.  We drink, chat and laugh.  Without alcohol, things don’t flow so well and I feel a bit anxious or stunted.  Once I feel something, the slightest bit of merriment which may not even consciously, I then binge! I then want to feel pissed so start to drink more and more to chase it until I feel pissed.  I’m probably talking shit and mis-interpreting stuff massively at this point which can be fun as we laugh more or I feel loved or I’m more loving.  The opposite is also true at times – I can feel hurt more easily making me defensive so arguments can arise out of anywhere. 

Next day there’s always consequences probably (?), where I’ll feel more tired because of the alcohol and because I probably stayed up later.  I’m then more prone to feeling low and anxious and lack the sharp clarity of thoughts I may usually have.  My very being is suppressed.  I then feel guilt and shit about this making me want to drink more so then begin to plan the next binge.  And so it goes on and on. 

Being the logical being that I am, I’m also aware of a healthier pattern.  That would be the ‘not getting pissed’ pattern.  This would involve still doing everything I do, but just not getting pissed.  The benefits outweigh the costs.  I’ll be fitter, healthier, weigh less, feel better about myself, be less guilty, feel sharper, more energised and generally all round better.  It’s a no-brainer and I’ve known this for fucking years but nothing changes.

So why do I repeat this?  Feeling fresh and good when I wake on a Saturday would be fab.  But getting pissed, dancing, laughing, pissing about and staying up late at the time makes me feel alive and that feels great.  My frustration here is that maybe it feels more unbalanced that it did before.  I shall muse on this, may feel uneasy about it so will get pissed to escape the feelings of discomfort.

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Questionable Observations

Killing the New Year List

I’ve been having increasing numbers murderous thoughts lately so I have done a bit of planning.  Like most people, I have a list. You know, the kill list of twats who fuckin grate on you for reasons you can’t identify.  Just the mention of their name insights the need to punch something and seeing a visual of some sort sends you into a mini-rage where you want to burn somethings and destroy everything around you with a hammer and your cock.  We all have these people who we hate.

The top 3 on list are Bob Warman, Postman Pat and Celine Dion.  Elton John’s a close 4th.  Bob’s been headlining the list of years and I could bang on forever about why he’s on it, but there’s not enough internet space.  I’m told Pat is an unusual entry, but he’s a smug little twat who’s been into bestiality for years right under our noses.  Actually, the only thing that bothers me about him shagging Jess is that he seems far too nice.  If you’re going to be a deviant, at least look the fuckin part.

From an academic perspective, you could argue that these people annoy the fuck out of you for specific reasons.  It could be that they remind you of parts of you that you don’t like and in rejecting these parts of you, you project your feelings of anger and hatred onto them as it’s less painful than to admit you’re a bit like them in some way.  Saying that, with pat being on my list, I love my cat, but it’s not the sort of pussy that could tempt me.  Fuck theories and logic as that always ruins emotional discharge.  Let’s focus on the murderous intent as a healthy way of expression.  If we don’t express ourselves, we hold all the emotion in which could lead to outbursts at inappropriate times such as in the midst of a christening or in the supermarket which would cause embarrassment and humiliation.  Let’s be safe kids; let’s express ourselves. 

So, I’ve decided to dress up as Postman Pat, avoid black and white cats for the day just in case I get too much into character and a friend is dressing up as Celine.  Being convincing look-a-likes is key here as we’re then going to borrow Elton’s helicopter and shoot Bob while he does a live broadcast.  This will clear the list – this will clear my January to-do list as poor ol’ ‘should’ve been killed years ago’ Bob meets his demise at the hands of Pat and Celine, who will be seen to enjoying the killing, the sick bastards, in Elton’s helicopter.  Granted, Elton will get a lessor sentence because he’s only an accessory, however, I don’t think he’ll survive in prison that long.

The only worry now is, what to do with the rest of the year?

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Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations

The Wheel of Fortune

I had a notion today that metaphorically articulates loneliness.  I owe a friend some cash after a weekend away and he’s not sure how much so I said that unless he gives me a figure I’ll create a wheel of fortune, give it a spin and he’ll have whatever the wheel dictates.  This could be one of the figures dotted around the board or special prize like a new cat or a facelick every day for a month (that would be special).  I then thought, if I were really bored and lonely, I would probably do this anyway.  I’d quite like to have a wheel of fortune for when the friends that are too tired and caught up in shit box-sets decide to make their annual visit.

I’d use my tools I have, that over the years seem to be accumulating.  This collection started out of necessity as when I first bought a house, I’d buy cheap power tools, have a go, do a half decent job following a few Tourette’s moments and feel happy for not having paid a professional.  As the shit tools broke, I began to replace with better quality stuff.  This is just another example of the descent into suburban mediocrity; all these little things add up to being the dad-like figure you vowed you’d never be when you were in your 20’s (fuck I sound depressing sometimes).  So, in a disappointingly sensible and functional way, I now have an array of tools to make stuff with.  Add in the DIY experiences and shit home-make-over documentaries that plagued us 10 years ago that I watched because I was too knackered to do anything else, and I’m good to go.

In such lonely circumstance, the cat be the hostess and suitably dressed as Jenny Powell, I would be host and would also play the part of Dave (my mate) as I spin the wheel.  I imagine he would probably get a few booby prizes of ‘Help Dave become King of the Isle of Wight’ and ‘A new spider every month’.  I think the latter would be harder to deliver than I think and the takeover of the Isle of Wight is worth a bash.  Who would stop us?  My biggest concern though is that in this dire lonely state would be that the cat would begin to look attractive as Jenny.  I wonder if this how all bestiality begins?  I also wonder what other shit loneliness could drive us to do?

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Questionable Observations WTF is that?

Crap Coat? Are You Guilty?

Why do lots of people my age where dull coats and jackets that look like they’ve been brought in a 1970’s camping shop?  I was with my eldest son at a Scouts activity day a few weeks ago and all the other parents were wearing North Face shit or the Millets equivalent.  I’m disappointed in their lack of humanity and creativity.  North Face are either laughing their arses off at how they’ve made so many people buy their shit or they need shooting for crimes against humanity.

People in their 30’s and 40’s tend to spend a bit of time and energy on their shirts and tops.  It’s the usual mis-informed shit of Superdry and Under Armour which makes them feel cool when really, we all think they look like twats but at least they show effort.  You can respect that!  But then, the dullest, shittest coat is sported on top. 

Am I missing something?  Am I an insufferable cock for not dulling myself down?  Does everyone else dull themselves to fade into the background to allow their children to shine then look at me like I’m some horrifically self-centred twat?  Is their lack of effort just a reflection of being exhausted from balancing home, kids and work? 

I think we should create a study to explore this further.  Firstly, we should create a questionnaire to ask the guilty about what the fuck they’re doing, but obviously use kinder words so not to create a defensive response.  I’ve drafted a few q’s –

1 – Do you wear a shit coat because you want to hide your embarrassing Superdry top from the world?

2 – Is your choice of coat linked to (tick all that may apply) –

  • You wish to repel your partner as your relationship has fizzled out and you dare not end it directly
  • You just don’t give a shit about how you look
  • You’re not that bothered about how you look
  • You’re not that bothered about what others think of you
  • You like to blend into the background
  • You delusionally think North Face and similar styled coats are actually quite cool
  • As a Coldplay fan, you seek to do as much to replicate being a soppy twat like Chris Martin
  • You have low self esteem and this is a way to covertly feel shit

3 – How much does age contribute to your shit choice of outerwear?

4 – How much thought did you put into your choice of outer wear? 

5 – Is your answer to question 4 a lie?  (really?)

6 – How often do you shop for coats while wearing a blindfold?

The 2nd arm of the study is to create 2 groups of people who wear this sort of shit.  The first group will do nothing and the 2nd group will be given a supply of stimulants to (cocaine and ecstasy comes to mind).  We’ll then assess the changes to the group who had the drugs compared to the control group to see if adding fun to their lives changes their dull exteriors. 

The more I think about it the more confused and upset I become.  I need to separate myself from the trauma of this as in reality, it’s just the most minute part of life.  I’m no coat-nazi, well, I don’t want to be as I’m sure there’s better things I can focus my noodle on?  I’m not sure what at the moment though.  As the thoughts begin to dwell, I can feel the initial brewing of anger.  I need to stop myself as ‘I set fire to him because he had a shit coat’ would not stand up so well in court.

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Hmmmm??

I’ve Found It – The Perfect Bet!

I was chatting with some friends at the weekend and we stumbled upon this perfect bet – you know, one that you can’t lose.  So, my mate’s a Villa fan and they’re still in this seasons league cup (Carabao Cup I think it’s called this year).  Anyhoo, he was saying that they had no chance of winning and then we argued that there’s a possibility of absolutely anything, therefore there;s not just a chance of them winning but, there’s a chance that Chris could score an injury time winner in the final at Wembley to win the cup for Villa.  I’d expect 20million-1 odds on this and we agreed they’d be reasonable odds. 

So, if we were to place the bet, placing £1, I’d want to see that £1 turn to the fruit of multi-millionaire playboy speedboat champagne glory.  Our first option didn’t seem particularly viable.  This was to shoot everyone else who could possibly be in the Villa line-up and everyone else who could be in the opposing teams line-up who were just a bit better than my mate Chris.  We’d spend more on bullets and guns than the prize is worth.

So the next solution was to employ the Law of Attraction.  For those who don’t know, this is where you believe something will happen and then the universe delivers it to you.  The key (apparently) is to believe it and if you believe then so it shall be.  So, on this basis, we ask Chris to believe this will happen; to believe that circumstances will prevail to the point where he will be in front of goal in injury time, perfectly placed, to nod in the winner.  The only reason now that this won’t occur is if he does not believe in this enough.  As this is out of our capabilities, it seems only fair that should Chris not deliver he should honour the bet for not believing enough.  We mused on this for a second and decided it would be a bit harsh to charge him £20m (plus stake) and decided we’d be happy with £10m.  This seems fair.  So fingers crossed for Chris when Villa get to the final.  Actually no, there’s no need to cross fingers, just sit back and enjoy.

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Questionable Observations

The only media You need

In the run up to the election, this is the only media You need – https://weeklyworldnews.com/ . I believe it’ll save you the relentless contradictory, knit-picky, bullshit promises from the corrupt parasites that we have virtually no choice to elect – Fuck, what a sad state of affairs. I hope the fresh faced ones will remain on the side of virtue for a little longer than their peers.

On a similar note, in one of John Cleese’s books (‘Life and how to survive it’ I think), he and Robyn Skynner question why some people feel a need to put themselves in a position of power. Let that one rest on your mind for a while.

#weeklyworldnews @JohnCleese #usualpoliticalshit #feelingpowerless

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Questionable Observations

I am now a Troll :-(

Fuck, I’ve just accidently taken the first step to becoming a Twitter troll.  Oh fucking shame on me.  I replied to a message with a sarcastic blasphemous undertone that could be take in a number of ways.  The post was about some people on the ‘Only Jesus Tour’ and their bus broke down.  I respond saying about how this builds resilience but don’t let it shake your faith.  I love that Jesus did this to these people though – What’s the purpose of doing this you weird sado when these blind believers are appealing to your needs for constant adulation?  (why the fuck does Jesus need this adulation – were their childhood issues creating feelings of grandiosity?  Was Joseph mean to him because he knew he wasn’t his father, was Mary neglectful through the guilt of shagging about and spinning the virgin birth story?)  As far as I’m concerned, Lucifer is ruling and is laughing his ass off at all the excuses we make for the pre-positioned narcissistic so called God of ours. 

Anyway, my noodle digresses.  This step was fuelled by the anonymity of my twitter account (@eternalfrustra1) and now I’m worried I’ll become one of these toxic keyboard warrior twats who abuses the vulnerable because I can.  Becoming a Troll and expressing my anger, might help with releasing some of my frustrations though.  Hmmmm.  I may try random physical attacks first.

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Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations WTF is that?

Do I have to accept the reality of normality?

Being in your 40’s is fucking hard; soul-destroying at times and my rejection of the acceptance of normality fuels massive frustration.  Do I have to accept being average and being fucking normal; To just be like everyone else??  I didn’t aspire to be fucking average when I was younger.  I rejected that whole notion of conformity and wanted to be my authentic and unique self, however, on reflection, I conformed to the norms with my peers.

I still harbour the want for more – this is an undefined more it’s not even illogical fantasies of being famous or hugely rich that plaque my mind.  When I really consider it, the community of the rich and famous is largely a bunch of fucked up twats who feel inadequate and seek more fame and fortune to feel better.  Their lives are littered with shit relationships, unhappiness and addiction.  Maybe I could do it for a year of that though then get out.  Reflecting on it, I think I could do it for a week as being around these fake, narcissistic twats who would annoy the fuck out of me. 

Maybe it’s time to embrace where I am in life and who I am. To accept life as it is and to love it because generally it is fuckin great.  My frustration is injected with rocket fuel at the thought of ‘I should be doing something better’.  I have no idea what the ‘better’ is btw and when it all gets too much there’s alcohol to distract me followed by guilt and self-loathing for getting pissed once again.  La la la.  I imagine our creator is laughing his ass off at the how his planet has morphed into this chaotic pandemonium of overthinking twats.

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Questionable Observations

The New Drink!!

OMfuckingGod, gloriousness has been presented and personified in the form of a fab new drink. Vodka, Lilt (or supermarket version of it) and Pink Grapefruit juice. It is angelic and beautiful. I recommend we all drink it. In glancing through the bible, I can see that I’m not the original creator of this though. Apparently the Unicorn’s told Noah when he was on that crazy boat of his and he loved it. So much so that he got pissed and accidentally forgot to close the Lion’s enclosure and they gobbled up the poor unicorns.

Personally, I think this inspired God to create karma (or her version of it) as it seems unfair to be eaten for introducing the world to something so lovely. Or maybe this was God’s karma on the one-horned freaks? Maybe she didn’t like them sharing this. Fuck, now I’ve spread this, I hope I don’t get eaten. If you see a headline ‘Happy and Pissed Man in his 40’s Eaten By Lions for Pissing God Off’, you’ll know why.

May I rest in peace.

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Questionable Observations

My Self-Defeating, Self-Imposed Prison

I am in this weird fucking prison where I repeatedly justify that it’s ok and the more I do this, the less chance of parole appears to the point where I will never want to leave.  Parenthood.  I used to think it was suburbia, but no, when parenting settled itself into my soul, parts of me began to fade.  The fun and care-free parts faded I think to be replaced with a sense of insecure worry and responsibility that gets so fucking ridiculous.  The constant need to make sure that the house is tidy enough, the fridge has the right foods, that they’ve got school clothes and the list is tiresomely fucking endless. 

Like a lot of horrendous shit such as abusive relationships and being conditioned, it evolves over time from an innocuous place or from a lovely place.  The wonderful partner who is so brilliant but then very slowly becomes abusive where we think so highly of them that we let these minor things go that then become more frequent harsher.  With every step we’re being conditioned to accept a new normality.  I’m not sure if comparing parenthood to abusive relationships is a realistic reflection but there are many fucking similarities.  You become less ‘you’, it’s stressful, you become someone you don’t recognise at times, you go out less, feel endless guilt and become isolated. 

Conditioning is ‘the process of training or accustoming a person or animal to behave in a certain way or to accept certain circumstances’.  We’re all conditioned in many ways.  We’re conditioned to conform which generally helps hold society together.  Our commonalities can help bond us.  Over time, we condition ourselves.

So, from the cool parents with a baby, it gradually evolves to having proper children and you’ve descended to being that parent:  Every question in the supermarket is answered with no and raised voices are a common part of the morning routine.  This then brings up guilt and generally feeling shit that you overcome by being loving and giving. 

What factors fucking influenced the descent to this magnolia orgy of shit of having to be the parent and all the wanky ways that go with it.  So, there’s the fundamental need to provide, having so much more to do, having less time and energy and the desire and social pressure of being a perfect parent.  Work and career steps up.  Slowly, this erodes fun and free thinking and we become trapped in a self-propelling plane of shit inside a swirling pressure cooker.

Children are hard work – they take lots of effort so we have less energy.  Less energy means we settle for shit we never would have done before.  There’s peer/parent/wanker pressure to be a good parent.  This shit comes at you from all angles – the cunt that is social media throws the continual contradictory messages of what being a good enough parent is which can only result in self doubt and wanting to do more as a parent.  This further erodes away of the other parts of your identity.  Running the home and teaching them values and healthy ways takes it’s toll.  Children are not adults so need constant reminding.  School time becomes that tense shit where every minute multiplies the volcanic stress which explodes upon the seemingly daily sound of ‘Daddy, I’ve lost my shoe’. 

A huge part of the sacrifice is that I want to be a great parent and give all I can to them.  As time continues, we’re conditioned to our norm and aspire to just be better.  I feel guilt at having a hangover as I’m not out on my bike with the kids at 8am and being the picture-perfect twat that I used to mock before parenthood and saw these people as a pretentious cunts. 

A huge part of the sacrifice is that I want to be a great parent and give all I can to them.  As time continues, we’re conditioned to our norm and aspire to just be better.  I feel guilt at having a hangover as I’m not out on my bike with the kids at 8am and being the picture-perfect twat that I used to mock before parenthood and saw these people as a pretentious cunts. 

So, from here on, I seek to stand up for all the parts of my identity.  The parent, the professional and the husband come first and swallow up the other ones.  I will fulfil being a great dad and seek to be the Dad I want to be.  To be fun, responsible, attentive and fucking awesome.  I will also uphold my profession well and enjoy my work.  I will also be Me.  I will not feel guilty for going on a stag do and I’ll have a great time.  I’ll get pissed, go to a strip club and when I have little energy the following day, I wont feel guilty.  It may mean that I will have to remind myself of all the good shit I’ve done that week where I’d rather just accept that it’s ok to be all parts of my identity.  I will seek to uphold them ALL as well as I can.  

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