Thursday 12 January 2012

Rant

I don't like to rant but I think today I deserve one because today went terribly.  Well, this morning anyhow.  This rant includes a certain person who I have never spoken to before but am now sure that they are metally incapable of doing anything at all.  ANYTHING.

So I got into school this morning for my English Lit re-sit with plenty of time and strutted off to the pavilion with my cronies only to find two boys with a yellow poem anthology.  I thought this was strange as they are meant to be provided in the exam but the two boys insisted that they thought that too but had been told to get one anyway because the exam board weren't providing them this year.  Whoever told them this piece of information is also on my hate list but we'll come to that later.  So off I rushed (I don't usually rush so this was rather impressive) to go and grab an anthology from English.  Only English was deserted.  On the whole two floors, there was not ONE fucking English teacher.  This is where I began to stress.  So off I rushed (double the rush) to the staff room to see if I could find my English teacher.

Last year I wandered into the staff room looking for a physics teacher only to be quickly ushered out of the room by a rather dishevelled looking woman telling me that 'I wasn't supposed to be in there' so I was pretty apprehensive.  I looked through the door into the staff room and I don't think I've seen that many teachers in such close proximity.  I felt claustrophobic just standing outside the room, never mind inside it.  It should be highlighted here that I don't think I ever intended to enter the room, only stand outside hoping to catch the teacher's eye.  This hope was quickly dashed due to the shear number of people there.  Luckily my form teacher was about to enter the room and my first instinct was to warn her of the danger ahead, then became more level headed.  I explained my situation and asked her if she could go in and look for any English teachers for me.  She preceded to take two steps into the room and crane her neck to see if she could see anyone.  'There's so many people in here, I don't know if I can see any English teachers Alex'.  'Brilliant, you just did exactly what I just did, thanks for the help', I said.  Okay, I didn't really say that last sentence...I was too busy trying to stop my head from exploding.  After a couple of minutes of looking and doing nothing she bucked her ideas up and wandered off to grab someone.  She gave me a man I'd seen around school but didn't know his name.  Apparently he was the 'English technician' but I seriously doubt the English department has a technician, unless there job was to sit around and do fuck all all day.

Anyway, this guy was again, completely useless.  After 15 minutes of him searching and me shitting myself, Sally popped up and told me that everyone had gone into the exam.  Thanks Sally.  She then wandered off again.  I wanted to die.  Then, out of the blue, my guardian angel arrived:  my English teacher.  'Miss Brady!', I called, running down the corridor towards her, arms open wide for an embrace, 'I need your help!  Your technician is a complete imbecile, please help me find an anthology!', I cried.  So she walked into the store room and picked up an anthology.  The same store room Mr Incompetent Fool had looked in for about 5 minutes trying to locate one.  They were on a shelf.  In plain fucking sight.  I wanted to kiss her, but there was no time for romantics, so off I ran to grab my equipment.

At the pavilion, the Sixth Form team and Sally were gathered around looking worried and being completely useless.  'Oh, got one?  Good!' one of them said half-heartedly.  Mrs Robinson came over and reassured me that I'd be fine and that I should just calmly walk down into the hall and that I had plenty of time.  She was very nice.  So off I trotted, happy that my ordeal was over and that I still had the majority of the time needed to complete the exam paper.

I entered the exam hall.  Everyone was working and it was completely silent so I basically tip-toed down to my seat.  I was row A and so headed to the left of the hall and then down, noticing there was a spare desk towards the front.  Mine.  Wait.  I looked at my hand and a large black biro scrawl stared back at me: A7.  I looked back.  Someone was in my seat.  Now, here is the point of my entire rant.  This boy, who shall be known as 'JP' looked up at me and seemed slightly confused.  I tried to insinuate as quietly as I could that he was in the wrong fucking seat but he just stared back at me like a sheep.  I looked back towards what was probably A3, trying to reassure myself that if I sat in the wrong seat everything would be okay but I knew deep down that it wouldn't be.  Sitting in that seat would be admitting defeat to this....there is no word for the stupidity of this person.  Before you get all annoyed at me for thinking this kid was a complete retard, just think for a second.  This person is unable to look at a board and go, 'Ah, I'm in seat A3'.  No, that is too hard for him. He obviously just goes into the exam and just sits down somewhere.  I don't even know if he was doing English, maybe he just wanted somewhere to sit.  I'm also slightly confused as to how he's managed to get through every exam in the wrong seat, not only because it would mess up administration, but also because he is also blind/can't read so how he possibly completes any exam is beyond me.  Anyway, the invigilator came over and asked me my name, which I told her and she took me to my seat where 'JP' realised that he was a fucking nonce and moved to his proper seat.  I'd also like to point out that 'JP' later told someone that I was a 'dick' for moving him.  I don't even know what to say to that.  People like this shouldn't be allowed to be born.

So I sat down...
                         ....and on my table
                                                      ....was a fucking yellow anthology.

Wow.  That felt very cathartic.
Thanks for reading.  I hope you understand how stressed I felt and hate this complete idiot as much as I do.
Alex

Monday 9 January 2012

3 song covers I prefer to the original

Everyone goes on about how terrible covers of their favourite songs are.  And usually, they are.  I die a little bit each time some idiot little boy band tries to copy some of the music legends and basically hung myself when I listened to Kerrang's CD of Nirvana covers, but sometimes, SOMETIMES, I prefer the cover versions to the original.  Of course, this is a matter of taste but as many of you know, I consider my taste in stuff to be far superior.  I joke (sort of).  So here are three covers of famous songs that I prefer listening to, along with the originals so you can compare.  I won't be surprised if people don't actually listen to the songs all the way through because I wouldn't but whatever, this is more an attempt to put off revision.  So enjoy!  And of course, this is my OPINION.  I know a lot of people who would crucify me for my choices but hey, free country.

3.  (Original) Hurt - Nine Inch Nails or NIN to hardcore fans...which I'm not.  Oh and Nine Inch Nails is one guy, not a band, which I found interesting when I found out.  Fun fact.



(Cover) Hurt - Johnny Cash



I'd even go as far to say that I actually dislike the first version...it's just so boring.  And the video for Johnny Cash's one is fantastic, it honestly brings a tear to my eye.  Yes ladies, I am sensitive.  Please form an orderly queue to the right.

2.  (Original)  The Man Who Sold the World - David Bowie



(Cover) The Man Who Sold the World -Nirvana (live)



I think David Bowie is fantastic.  I really do.  But it's Kurt fucking Cobain.  Kurt Cobain.  Sorry, I'm getting a bit flustered.  He's just unbelievable.  I'm probably bias because of my love for Nirvana but whatever: opinion, remember?

1.  (Original)  Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin



(Cover)  Immigrant Song - Karen O with Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross



I put this at number one, not because it is my favourite out of the three (it's probably my least favourite) but because people will be like 'OMFG U R MESSIN WIT DAH ZEP' etc etc.  I prefer this version, just because it's fucking cool and I've picked the video because the video is equally 'fucking cool'.  Funnily, Trent Reznor IS Nine Inch Nails (remember how I said it was just one guy) and I voted Johnny Cash's version of his own song better.  So, swings and roundabouts I guess.

Well there you go.  Don't crucify me please.  Hope you enjoyed listening to the awesome songs (especially the Nirvana one).
Alex

Friday 6 January 2012

If I had a time machine...

So in the bath, I was reading 11.22.63 by Stephen King.  I always read in the bath because it's relaxing and warm which allows you to chill and forget whatever the hell is happening in your 'little fucked up life'.  This book is about a guy who has a friend with a worm hole in the pantry of his restaurant.  Crazy, I know but his isn't some 'classic' that little snot nosed pretentious nob-heads will be studying in the future (yep, I realise the irony in this and if you're offended....deal with it), it's a book that is meant to be fun and exciting and it certainly is.  Because Jake sets off back in time to see if he can save JFK.  Only he doesn't know what effect this will have on time because of the butterfly effect and so starts off with trying to save someone of less importance: the janitor at the school he works at.  Right, I'm rambling.  The point I'm trying to get at is that Jake travels back to 1958...and it got me think what a fantastic time the 50s were.  In fact, how much better they were than the decades we have lived through.  I know, I know, I already sound like an OAP but it's true.  Look at a few comparisons.  This is America by the way, I'm sure England was just as rubbish back then as it is now.

1.  Teenagers:- Go and take the train into Manchester tomorrow and play 'spot the stereotype'.  It's a great game you play with friends that I have ingeniously made up.  The rules are simple: you look for a teenager fitting in with a stereotype and shout their stereotype at them (preferably so they can hear).  The person who spots the most stereotypes wins.  You'll spot loads of them out there:  Chavs, Emos, Scene Kids, 'Gangstas', Indie Kids, Metal-Heads etc etc.  But what do they all have in common?  They are all gimps.  'Oh I'm a teenager, I'm an individual!'  Give me a break, why does no one see the irony in that kids will try to show their 'individuality' by trying to fit in with a bunch of people just like them?  The point is, from what I've gathered from my extensive research on the subject (mainly the book and Grease) I've figured that there were only two stereotypes in the 50s: nerds and greasers.  And just look at the greasers.

                                                                       
They look awesome!  That guy doesn't take shit from anyone.  If I lived back then, let's face it, I'd be a nerd.  But I would ENJOY being beaten up by these guys!  There was a reason there were no Emo gimps, Scene gimps or idiot Chavs back then, they were all too scared to be seen in the shadow of these supermen!

2.  Technology (or lack there of):-  Yes, I know if I lived back then I wouldn't be able to write this, but the chances are I'd be out with friends and that's a lot better right?  People keep saying that technology is 'improving our lives' but is it really?  Everyone seemed to get on all right back then.  If they wanted a conversation with someone, they'd either have to go and sit next to one of those huge phone 'things' or get up and go and walk to that person's house.  And they would get to talk face to face with said person!  I know, fantastic.  Basically, everyone was a lot more sociable back then and that is a VERY good thing because we are all turning into stand offish bastards.  Okay, I WOULD miss my playstation (the 50s kids were definitely missing out on Skyrim) and my films (although saying that there were loads of good films in the 50s) but from what I gather from my sources, they didn't need all this stuff because everyone was well learned in the art of spontaneously breaking out into song and dance at any given moment and then having drag races.  That sounds more fun than Skyrim.  But only just.

3. Music:-Here's a sample of music from today:



And here is a sample of music from 1958:



I'm pretty sure you clever people can figure out what I'm trying to say.  But I'll spell it out for you chavs you have managed to stumble across this blog whilst looking for the latest 'I like to beat yo wife with yo dick' album: the second song is infinitely better than the first.  It's catchy, well written and, my God it makes you want to dance.  And I hate dancing.

4.  General Attitude:- 9/11 changed things.  There's no beating about the bush with that really; there is NO-ONE who gets on a plane who isn't slightly worried that there could be a terrorist on board who may want to blow them out of the sky.  And this is so so so SO tragic!  Because we are all living in fear of something that we don't know anything about.  To be fair, we have the right to be scared because these people don't discriminate so everyone is at risk.  However, it wasn't just 9/11 that changed things: our race is just a whole lot more cynical than it used to be.  Maybe it's some general consumerism like 'OMG that new iPhone57677 has come out, Daddy please buy it for me 'cuz it's all I want in the entire word' and the lust for material items.  I'm not criticising anyone here, I'm pretty much the same (although on a much smaller scale - I'm way more perfect then you will ever be), It's just how our society has evolved.  Now look back to the 50s.  There was a blissful ignorance that had engulfed everyone.  Sure, the Second World War had shaken everyone up and people were apprehensive about growing tensions with Russia but everyone was a whole more trusting.  People were friendlier and people would leave the house for the day and just chill and dare I say it, they would just have fun!  I'm not talking about parties here.  Yes they ARE fun, but when was the last time someone said to you, 'you know that abandoned house on Bramhall Lane South?  Let's go and explore it!'  To me, that sounds I whole lot more fun than a party.  People back then had more freedom and an attitude that was like 'do I give a fuck what he/she is doing?  Nope, I'll go and have fun the way I want because it would be EXCITING.'' And they had cool cars.

 So listen up.  Chill out!  Stick on some Chuck Berry and enjoy your life.  Go outside and get some fresh air, listen to the birds, have an actual *look* around you and don't take anything for granted.  And come and explore the abandoned house with me, seriously, I'm dying to check it out.  There's also a creepy abandoned hospital somewhere near the Trafford Centre.  Cool, huh? Or you could just disagree with everything that I believe and sit at home and masturbate all day.  Your call.
Have a good one
Alex
  

Thursday 5 January 2012

Sexy Followers on Twitter part 2


Now that I've got some chemistry revision done, I've got a bath running and I'm settling down to watch one of my favourite horror films:  Eden Lake.  One of the only films to actually disturb me.  Check it out, honestly, it's great.  But yeh, now I have plenty of time to write the second part of this post.

4.  Sabina Reiter


                                                              
Website:  http://porn-dp1.info.  I'd pretty much given up hope on Sabina when I saw this.  ''Oh no, another spammer playing on the stereotypical idea that all men are suckers for porn'', I thought.  But no, I glanced down to see this tweet:  ''We met, we talked, we flirted, I fell for you, I trusted you, you flirted with her, you ruined everything.  End of story.''  She's sensitive!  She's broken.  She just needs a guy like me to come along and sweep her off her feet.  I could be that man!  I was just about to click that link to see if there was any contact info but then I noticed one other tweet.  ''Why are men like lawn mowers?  They're hard to get started, emit foul odors and don't work half the time.''  Yup, obviously that bad relationship messed her up badly because she hates men.  She's a misandrist.  My heart broke.  Then I saw this and it was okay: ''It is always the wrong time of the month''.  We wouldn't last.  Also, if someone knows of any lawn mower post 1900 that emits foul odors, please let me know.

5.  Billye Panaro

'Billye', (if that is her real name) doesn't have the top of her head still intact, which is obviously a bit of a turn off.  Her website is: http://www.COEDS-BIGLOADS.INFO which isn't as explicit as some of the other links but I have a feeling that 'bigloads' means 'big penises'.  She only has three tweets but I'll focus on the first: ''Even if you don't sleep, this post is useless, and just shows someone who needs to get a life''.  Now, I'm not totally sure if Billye is insulting me or herself but I think it's a bit cruel for her to judge me without meeting me.  One thing is certainly clear, whether or not Billye has a top of a head, she certainly has no brain.

6.  Kath Parkman


Another small picture and that is a shame because this one is a stunner.  She's also mysterious and I like that in a woman.  Her only tweets are two from 'Mrs Stephen Fry' and yet she has 41 followers, which I find odd, she must be really popular at school.  She has no link, except some information: ''enchanted florist''.  Wow.  I have no idea what an enchanted florist is but I hope it's like a wizard that makes flowers magical.  How impressive.  So, I've actually fallen in love with Kath.  Not only is she unbelievably beautiful but she's intelligent too (how many enchanted florists do you know?) and the lack of tweets make me think of the quiet, calm type.  Anyhow, she can enchant my floristry any day.

And there you have it, my favourite six spam accounts on twitter.  I know, it's been one hell of a ride.  And no, I don't know why some lines have big spaces between one another.
Thanks
Alex

***UPDATE*** Billye Panaro has unfollowed me on Twitter.  She has either decided that 1.  I do not what to look at 'big loads' or 2. She has typed her name into google and found this.  Insulted, she has run off to find the top of her head before trying to seduce other young men.  For future reference Billye, men usually like women with their *entire* head still intact.

Sexy Followers on Twitter part 1

Here are some of my incredibly sexy followers on twitter.  Unfortunately, they are all spam bots.

1. Ruth Gross

 This attractive lady added me a mere few minutes ago and has already set to work posting shit all over my feed.  She is from Virginia (possibly because it sounds like 'vagina'?) and has the website: http://xxx-pics78.info.  Nope I haven't clicked it but if anyone wants to, please let me know what is in it.
Favourite tweet: ''If you do not hope, you will not find what is beyond your hopes'.  Wow, very philosophical Ruth.  Prime girlfriend material right?  I thought so too, until I saw this tweet: ''I distrust camels, and anything else that can go a week without a drink''.  I think that was meant to be witty, but I stopped reading and had a little cry after the ''I distrust camels'' part.

2. Stephany Nowlin


Apologies for the small picture, but you get the idea.  Stephany Nowlin is obviously just a picture from a Next catalogue.  However, what caught my eye wasn't her picture, it was the link that came with it: http://xxx-porn-pics9.info.  Now, I'll give you three guesses to what is in that.  If there was any doubt that this spammer wasn't a sex crazed lunatic, they were crushed when I looked down to her tweets.
''30% of women over 80 still have sex''.  Why the fuck would I want to know that?!  Not only is that obviously complete bullshit, but I now have to deal with the idea that some people WANT to see that stuff, otherwise she wouldn't be advertising it.  Another one:  ''Penises are like fish: the little ones, you throw back; the big ones, you mount!''  Sometimes, words are not enough.

3.  Kandra Graff


Is it me or do these photos seem to be cutting off more and more of the body and zooming in more and more on the face?  No matter because if you thought the last website was good, you'll love this:   http://www.MEGA-JIZZFEST.INFO.  Yup.  Mega-Jizzfest.  There isn't much to say about that really.  I'm slightly intrigued to know what a 'mega jizzfest' is exactly but I haven't mustered up enough courage to click the link.  Let's have a look at her tweets.   ''Your self-centeredness prevents you from seeing your self in relation to how others, particularly your teachers and sempai really are''  Alright.  Don't really understand what that means to be honest.  Lets have a look at one more: '' 5 years while battling a lower-intestinal disease that nearly killed him ''.  What the fuck?!  Who is 'he'?  ''What has this got to do with ANYTHING?  Eurgh, what a fucking freak.

Anyhow, part 2 up later because I have to go and do some chemistry revision.  Yes, I'm well aware that the font kept changing throughout that.  I don't know why.
Thanks for reading!
Alex

Wednesday 4 January 2012

Why action is no longer exciting.

So this evening I popped out to see Sherlock Homes: A Game of Shadows and despite some vastly overpriced tickets and consuming more than a years supply of Philadelphia in one evening, I rather enjoyed myself.  However, the film was at its best in some of the more...toned down scenes.  For instance, a part where two characters had to figure out who someone was by their gestures and movements was particularly enthralling.  However, for an action film, the action scenes didn't...excite me.  Surely that is what action is designed to do?  To transport the viewer into a situation that they would never (hopefully) normally encounter and to pump their body full of adrenaline and unleash their primordial blood lust.  But nope, not in this film.  It is interesting to note however that a mere two hours or so before Sherlock Holmes, I was watching Mad Max (1979) and that DID get the blood pumping.  Why?  Because it's all real.  The cars, the stunts, the explosions are all done on set and someone could, theoretically, die an extremely fiery death.  Not in Sherlock Holmes though, because most of the more elaborate fight sequences were done through the aid of a computer, with CGI.

Yuck, a pet hate.  Listen directors, CGI is a tool, not the be-all and end-all of your film.  You don't just use a hammer to make a table do you?  You need everything that comes with it, the screws, the wood, the varnish etc etc (I'm not a carpenter and I have no idea how to make a table).  So like that table analogy, a film needs multiple bits and pieces to make it work: a good plot, good characters, good actors, good direction etc.  And god forbid, some CGI can be a fantastic tool.  Look at some older films for example, when CGI was coming into its own.  Below is Jurassic Park (1993) which not only contains the best CGI for its time, but some of the best CGI I've ever seen and it feels REAL:



There is a mix of CGI and amazing puppetry to make one of the most memorable scenes in modern cinema.  That it feels real is of highest importance.  I don't want to go 'oh, that CGI looks great!'  I wanna go, 'Wow, that's a DINOSAUR!'.  Unlike this:



Yeh, I know, it looks impressive.  And all the reviews were like 'yeh the CGI does look fantastic!' but then were like 'but the story is a massive rip off of Pocahontas...'.  So yeh, CGI doesn't make a good film.

And to make it clear, I really did like Sherlock Holmes and it certainly doesn't overuse the CGI as much as some modern films, it just make me think.  So sorry Sherlock.  On that note, I'm off to go and do more exciting things with my life...joking, I don't have an exciting life.

But if you're still not convinced that over the top CGI is bad, I remind you of this beauty:

The amazing Talking Mongoose!

Ha, I'm blogging.  Check me being all intellectual and technologically advanced.  Also, how pretentious and self-righteous of me, expecting people to read it; except that I really only expect Sally to.  How depressing.  Well, if this first post is going to be dedicated to Sally, I might as well write about something she would find interesting, as well as explaining my incredibly intriguing user name: talkingmongoose.  No, I don't have an unusual fascination with the linguistics of herpestidae (although I wish I did), Gef the Talking Mongoose is a gem of not only cryptozoological interest, but also one of possibly supernatural  curiosity.  Not that I believe in such bullshit.

Here is a mongoose (just in case you're an idiot):
Awh, look how cute it is.  But it can't speak, only make some sort of squeak I imagine.  But not Gef!

So in September 1931 there was this farmhouse on the Isle of Man which was home to the Irving family.  This consisted of Daddy Irving (James), Mummy Irving (Margaret) and 13yr old Irving (Voirrey).  Yup, she was actually called Voirrey.  This family started hearing odd noises around the house and eventually, Voirrey said she'd seen the creature keeping them awake at night (I'm sure a mongoose stuck behind a wall could be very distracting in a number of situations, especially as it was said to 'gurgle like a baby'.  Nice.)  Gef then let on that he could speak, saying he was 'an extra clever mongoose', 'an earthbound spirit', and my favourite 'I am a freak.  I have hands and I have feet and If you saw me you'd faint, you'd be petrified, mummified, turned into stone or a pillar of salt!'

'A hoax!'  I hear you cry.  And yeh, I know, it seems like complete bullshit.  But James Irving kept a diary of the event for FOUR FUCKING YEARS.  If this was a fraud, the guy kept it up forever.  He also got some footprint casts of Gef:


These were actually said to NOT be from a mongoose, but Gef said himself that his hands and feet were uber large for a mongoose (if a mongoose at all, some say he was some sort of poltergeist).  And there were some photos taken!  Don't get excited, they're a bit shit.


Nope, I don't know where he is in this picture either, the next one is a bit better.


That is Gef gazing into the sunset.  I guess he was a bit of a romantic.  So yeh, it's an odd story, and no one in their right mind would believe it.  But it certainly is interesting, whether it was a hoax or not because a few years later, the Irvings moved out and a farmer shot a 'strange animal' but it was apparently much larger than Gef was said it be.  Also, on her death bed, the daughter, (Voirrey, remember) swore that Gef was not made up by her and her family and that he was totally real.  So does anyone really care if it was real?  Even if it's not, it sure makes one hell of a story and I love it to pieces, not only because it's so quirky and mysterious but because it's so unique.  Nothing like this has ever been documented again.  Type in 'ghost' into google and you'll get reams and reams of bullshit, but type in 'talking mongoose' and you'll only get this.  And that is why it's my user name for EVERYTHING.

I'll leave this on one more note.  Apparently, APPARENTLY, Indian Shaman can teach a mongoose to talk.  Food for thought eh?

Hope you enjoyed this!  Here's a pretty detailed link if you want to know more, because I have seriously just given a brief over-view, there is so much that can be added.
http://www.forteantimes.com/features/articles/4915/gef_the_talking_mongoose.html

Thanks for reading!
Alex