Tag: honesty

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Alarm Clock Hock

I used to be awoken by alarm clock every day, like just about everyone the world over…it’s annoying little chime would rudely awake me from my peaceful rest in slumberland, and bring me back to the real world with a grunt and a grimace. However now this routine has became somewhat defunct:

Peter Smash GIF

No longer needed!

You see now my new neighbour (who lives just below) wakes me up instead. This is not an improvement by any means. After all he doesn’t come to my door with breakfast, or gently jostle me from my sleep with a good morning tune, or send in some chirping songbirds…no. Instead he wakes me by riving his window open with tremendous force, hocking (by which I mean drawing all of the saliva, and bogies from the back of his throat) a couple of times – and then slamming the window shut so hard that it shakes the entire apartment complex…it’s every single morning with the same visceral middle ages type sound:

“HUUUURRRRRLLLCCCCK! HURRRRRRRLLLLCCCCCK! ARGHHH, ARGHH ~Short sniffle break~ HUUUURRRRRLLLCCCCK! HURRRRRRRLLLLCCCCCK!” (Spit, and repeat up to four times)

“DON’T YOU HAVE A BATHROOM?!” I often find myself  screaming out in desperation to the nothingness, to which there is never any reply – I mean it’s 6:30am why would anyone be up apart from Mr. Fucking Saliva; the early bird who is also a dirty worm…

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We are yet to meet each other. My imagination is working overtime.

It’s that old chestnut – not knowing what you have until it’s gone. I think back  to when I would complain about that annoying polyphonic mobile tone – but now I can’t see how I used to have the audacity! I reckon my blood pressure has gone up twofold since his arrival. In fact it feels like one of those cartoon thermometers every time…rising up rapidly until the glass at the top shatters! Yes, that’s how my day starts…as stressed out, and pissed off as poor old Coyote – except there’s no Road Runner high-jinx involved. Just “HUUUURRRRRLLLCCCCK! HURRRRRRRLLLLCCCCCK!” 

If I didn’t spend a couple of hours with the cheeriest of chaps after this, it may be able to affect my day for the worst…but thankfully all the singing, dancing, and I’ll be honest blood-curdling screams takes my mind off it!

Till the next morning of course. “HUUUURRRRRLLLCCCCK! HURRRRRRRLLLLCCCCCK!” 

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Birthday Blues

Well I have just returned from a few days in the coastal city of Busan, in South Korea – couldn’t have wished for a better holiday to celebrate my birthday! Unfortunately there was to be one final hiccup – and I am still scratching my head wondering how it happened (while eating some birthday toffee, so not all bad I guess!)…

You see, I lost my bank card! But not in the usual fun way a person does during a heavy week…something like taking 1,000 flaming shots, then getting in a fight where you are punched so hard you’re physically sick, and somewhere within the throws of all that madness your card is gone, never to be found again…no. You see instead of a fun story I simply lost mine at a rest stop…on the way back home in broad daylight! Like how does that even happen?! 

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The coach pulled in to the stop, and the fella said we had ten minutes. So I scrabbled around for all my necessities…which were only two items; my phone, and my bank card. I then made my way to the scruffy bathroom, that had blatantly never seen a wash – and then continued on to the little store they had there. I was suddenly very excited about the fact that I would soon be scoffing down delicious cheese flavoured snacks! My tongue was salivating at the selection, as I grabbed bags of cheesy doritos, and eagerly joined the line. But when it got to my turn, I went through a pathetic mime routine…touching my pockets, and shaking my head, without uttering a word – as if the loss had stupefied me into a dumb silence against my will.

I retraced my steps, which inevitably led back to the piss trail of the horrendous public bathroom. Which was not a welcome discovery…the hot dog brine type smell that lingered there, greeted my nostrils with a horrible flare, so strong that I could taste it. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, so looked frantically at the floor – faintly hoping (kind of) that I would find it somewhere in, and around the sporadic clumps of men’s stray pubic hairs.

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But it wasn’t to be. 

As I got back on the coach defeated, I was obviously a little bit annoyed. But I can now say that I have extracted a few positives from the situation – which I would like to share with you all…

Firstly I was relieved that I had lost my card right at the tail-end of the trip, as it really only hindered me getting snacks – which is a huge deal to me, but I know not literally the end of the world! Anyway people offered me things, and another friend paid for my taxi home once we arrived. I then let a Korean friend know I had lost my card, and he was immediately on the phone to call up the bank. and cancel it! Then the day after I was invited out for dinner, and drinks by a Nigerian friend I don’t even know so well – so of course I declined, explaining my situation – my friend was there with a card he had loaded with 100 dollars, and told me that “brothers always have each other’s back…” I was touched, but desperately tried to jam it back into his pocket – he wasn’t having any of it. Then the next day a work friend greeted me in the morning with a McDonald’s breakfast (some of you will know how much I love those bad boys!) as she knew I wouldn’t have been able to buy myself breakfast…my point is, there are some truly good, honest, and kind people out there – and I am lucky to know a handful of them!

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Oh, and special shout out to the lady at the bank for getting me a new card on the same day! She’s a miracle worker!

Well I’ve rambled on a bit, hope you don’t mind me sharing these little tales – I just thought they served as a reminder that the world isn’t all doom, and gloom – egos, and selfish ambitions. Have a great day my friends, and perhaps try and be the best part of someone else’s too! 

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Low Fat…Low Fun.

Sitting here, staring into the grey abyss of my cereal bowl. The foul putrid liquid that softens, and dulls the frosted flakes – turning them into flavorless cardboard husks before my very eyes. How did it come to this? Do I deserve this fate, which is surely worse than death? 

Low fat…it’s low fun. It’s flavourless, it’s bland. There is no bacon, no cheese. No syrup, no chocolate – no extras, no treats.

EATING B GIF

You don’t want diabetes, you don’t want cancer, you don’t want obese bum cheeks…or whatever else they say. So naturally you end up following certain elements of these horrible currents of advice. I’m waiting, not so patiently – for when we begin to celebrate real men or whatever, who have a nice little pouch stomach…like a kangaroo I guess, but not as cute, and well no baby – just gluttony in there. When we begin to celebrate real men for having burger bap nipples, and chaffing thighs – well then I can just let go completely, and will possibly never stop. I can’t wait. 

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Like I literally can’t wait, so fuck it – I’ll just start now, best to get a head start…right? 

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Job Hunt

Wouldn’t it be great if we didn’t have to have a job?  And when I say job, I mean the thing you don’t really want, but get up most days to go to, and spend most of your life complaining about – yeah, that thing. I am not referring to dreams, callings, or purposes – I am talking about the “it’s just a job” jobs…the largely “just for the money” jobs.

(You know…the ones that destroy your soul, and make you feel completely replaceable).

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Apologies for the pessimistic tone! But I have been on the job hunt as it were, and so far I haven’t caught much…if this was in the wild sometime BC, and I was a caveman…well, yeah…the family would be going hungry right now. A lot of things have just went wrong, or at least haven’t turned out right – whilst others have been an undeniable travesty.

So here goes:

* Summer 2014: I spent two months in England battling the Korean embassy for a work-visa…I had signed for a new school, but just had to get the legal side of things straightened out (for some reason they wanted to make sure I wasn’t a murderer…which I thought was fair enough). One delay came after another, and every phone call was met with “you should just wait!” Well…I had been waiting…and it was getting ridiculous.  Fortunately two days before I was due to be flown out, the visa arrived! HOOOOORAAAAY! Unfortunately the day after this, my school emailed me saying it was going to close down…so they no longer needed me as a teacher. Fucking fantastic. I flew out anyway, as I felt it would be easier to find jobs while I was actually in the country. GULP.

* Autumn 2014: Got a few things in the works, as you may have heard, but needed something more concrete to pay the bills, and you know – feed myself. So I began interviewing for new schools…the first one I interviewed for was in an old neighbourhood, which was kind of quaint, and interesting. The boss had a very errr…bizarre story for me though – whilst discussing the school, and the whole set up of the operation, he went on to inform me that the whole thing plays out like an unbelievable TV drama; he has one teacher who ran away to “get married to an Iraqi man”, and then returned out of the blue, but told no one what had happened – another who has been working there for seventeen years “because he won’t leave” – another who became pregnant, and continued to deny it (why?) even when she was in the later inflated balloon stage…another who…okay, let’s leave it there. I just thought: what the hell is this place?! And where is the exit?!

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* Autumn 2014 (Continued): I interviewed at another school…which was weird in another way – I got there, and sat down with the chap…he nodded, asked one or two questions…well, no…they weren’t questions they were just vague statements – he then said I looked good so he had no problems, I had the job if I wanted it, and that we could sign the contract the following week. The whole thing took about five minutes, if that. I was pleased as the school was close to Taco Bell, which meant that I’d be having a splendid lunch for two weeks in a row! However…and it’s a big however…the week after signing the contract, the agent got in touch with me…and said that, that school l is closing down too! WHAAAAAT THE FIZUCKKKK?! It’s like fucking King Midas…except everything I touch doesn’t turn to gold…it turns to literal human shit!!!?? What is wrong with me?! ARGHHHH! Breathe…breathe…breathe…

* Winter 2014: I got a temporary position for a couple of weeks at a school, and so far it is going okay – actually they offered me a full time job come February – but the timing won’t be right. This when put with my private tutors…editing gigs…and other things, means that I won’t die of starvation, which is naturally a huge relief. I am excited to be going home for Christmas! But I am continuing on my job search…mrs-satan/ got in touch actually, and it should say a lot that I am tempted to return – they offered extremely short hours, and only with kindergarten too – so it’d be playing with kids, and then writing, and doing whatever I wanted for the rest of the time. Sounds sweet…but then again…I’d be in her hellish arena once more. Meanwhile, my Korean friend is trying to get me a job at his workplace – something about social media, I don’t know – it’d be a real grown up job…suit and tie by rule, not just because…arghhh, all of this hurts my head.

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That’s why I have day-dreamed about how fantastic it would be if we all just wandered around, doing whatever – naturally it is impossible, but still. I hope that one day, I can make enough money from the things I love, so that I don’t have to have all of these money-woes, and job worries. It reduces from the beauty of life itself, because you become fixated on money, money, money.

ARGHHH! Now Abba is stuck in my head…I have only myself to blame. Wish me luck my friends, I hope you are all doing well.

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Wiz Khalifa (Honesty)

So there is some news out… if you can call it news, actually I don’t think anyone calls TMZ news – just new fictional stories spun into almost believable headlines. But anyway, yeah; there is a story flying around that (SHOCK, HORROR!) a rapper by the name of Wiz Khalifa has cheated on his wife, Amber Rose. Naturally this is everyone else’s business, and until there are facts from both camps we are just forced to listen to any wild theory that a random person may pluck from the air any given day…Wiz Khalifa insisted on bathing in gravy every day, Amber Rose would only let Wiz wear bacon in the house, Wiz refused to talk in English with her – instead creating his own impossibly intricate language which made communication impossible….and the list goes on, well my imagination goes on – which is basically the same thing when it comes to celebrity gossip news nowadays.

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It seems that there was cheating…possibly on both sides, but maybe not – he was on tour, and was all “what happens on tour, stays on tour!” but then forgot, and decided to have sex with two biological twins in the master bedroom…Amber had mixed feelings about this when she walked in on the display. Which I kinda get…

I must say I am not obsessed with celebrity culture, actually I largely abhor it…I do think that special people, who do good, or achieve amazing things should be celebrated, and consequently should become a celebrity. But that is not how it works…most of the people I admire shy away from such a side of the lime-light, and continue to impress me with what they do…not with their Miley Cyrus’ scandal, or Justin Bieber styled controversy. Instead, what I am trying to highlight is something quite stupid that has irked me for some years…I would love an answer if anyone has it…okay here it goes ~

Rappers want to be considered real, right? …we are supposed to believe what they say is fact – which is often difficult, as we wonder how a person has time to move 1,000KG of cocaine between all of the tailored fittings, press conferences, and radio guest spots…but I digress. So if we are to believe what they say as truth…and a rapper is talking about how many groupies he…you know…then how can their spouses be mad? They kind of signed up for that…is this not a huge paradox?!! Or am I missing the point here?! This is how I picture the inevitable arguments between the rapper, and his wife:

“You said you listened to my new song!? You said you liked it!”

“I did like it, I loved it! But that doesn’t change the fact you LIED TO ME!”

“WHOAAAT?! You are INSANE – in the song, I talked about all the bitches I fu-“

“SO?!”

“So I thought that meant I had the go ahead…did you really listen to the song? YOU DIDN’T DID YOU?!”

“I…I…I did.”

“THEN WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?! I AM ONLY DOING WHAT I SAID I WAS GOING TO! IN FACT I DIDN’T WANT TO, I REALLY WANTED TO JUST SIT AND WATCH TOY STORY – BUT I FELT PRESSURED BY YOU TO BE REAL…SO I…WELL I JUST DID IT.”

“Wait..ah, that makes sense actually – good job, proud of you honey.”

Wiz GIF

Case in point guys, this is from Wiz’s new album, taken from a track called The Sleaze: “My job is sleazy, it’s way too easy, Just got the newest thang, get it with ease, hopped up out the bed, did it with sleaze.” The man may be lots of things, but he is not dishonest – in a genre filled with fake thugs, false gangsters, and lots more…he stands as a guardian of all that is truthful. He is a dirty, cheating scumbag sure, but he says it in every song – so no biggie…right? Like I say I would love to go to Egypt,  and see the pyramids, okay? So it wouldn’t be a shock if, maybe a year later – you read a story of mine talking about the time I visited Egypt, and saw the pyramids. Yeah?

I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND…ARGHHHH, ANSWERS PLEASE.

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