Bobo got back to the tree after a long, hard day in the jungle. He wearily climbed the vines and entered his living room, exhausted. He saw his wife, bubbles, in the kitchen. The somber clanking of pots and pans couldn’t have drowned out the sound of his arrival, and yet she didn’t turn to […]
So, I’ll try to make this brief… There may be a few tangents, and I’m really tired.
I was walking home from work tonight, exhausted after 13 hours shared between two jobs. It was about 11.45 at night and on my side of the street ahead of me was a pack of youths. I don’t know what the collective noun for hooded reprobates is really; a gaggle of chavs, a flock of delinquents? Anyway… I call them youths; it sums it up nicely, derogatory enough to convey my meaning, condescending enough to convey my sarcasm. I don’t know what age I was when I began to refer to ‘punk kids’ as ‘youths’, but I think it was around the time I once saw a 13 year with a cigarette who was so indifferent and unintelligent, that he tried to spit on the floor, as so many smokers do, and couldn’t be bothered to turn his head to the left or right, thus combined with the forward momentum of his walking meant he spat on his own shoe. Anyway, they were youths, and I decided to avoid them for some reason. They were drunk and loud and boisterous, and I couldn’t be bothered to be near them. I figured I’d just cross the street.
This is where shit went wrong.
Doc: Brace yourself, Marty. When this baby hits 88 miles per hour… You’re going to see some serious shit. Police: Doctor Emmett Brown; stop the vehicle. We have reason to believe you have stolen nuclear materials on board. Doc: Holy shit, Marty! Get in! Marty: Woah, Doc. What’s going on? Doc: Come on, just get […]
This is a story about a boy named Alexander Green.
Alexander really wanted to be a goth. Lots of boys at his school were goth kids and he thought they were very cool. He would often try to hang out with them, but they told him to go away because of his apparent love of conformity and rules. They told him that he didn’t understand. Ironically, Alexander didn’t understand what it was that he was being accused of not understanding.
One day, Alexander decided to become a goth.
It’s a weird concept, isn’t it; to have a ‘best‘ friend. I find it strange enough; the notion that while you may have lots of friends, one of them in particular is universally agreed to be the one that you like the most, but what’s even stranger is when someone refers to themselves as someone else’s best friend. That’s weird, right? On the one hand, you can be saying to a friend who isn’t your best friend, that someone else is your best friend, and that basically translates as “Have you met Charlie? He’s that guy that I like more than I like you.”, but then for another person to refer to themselves as someone’s best friend is like a declaration that they like you more than they like anyone else. It’s like saying “Oh, hi. I’m Charlie, the guy that Matt likes more than he likes you.”
There are a lot of misunderstandings regarding self-harm, many of which have lead to ostracising behaviour and unkind prejudices. I try not to write too often about anything personal on this blog, but I was confronted with a reminder of this topic at work today, when a young girl came and spoke to me, and I could see the old, familiar white lines across her wrists and forearms.
Being the pedantic arse that I am, I’m going to ask a few (presumably unanswerable) questions about the Islamic heaven, historically referred to as ‘Jannah‘. We all know a few of the key elements of this paradise, 72 virgins, giant palaces for everyone, rivers of milk and honey, and so on, and as I read into the writings on the subject, there were a few things I found somewhat unusual. So, here we go…
I bet some of you haven’t even thought of your Top Five Awesome Science Facts of The Day, but help is at hand, because I’ve done the leg work for you, and your Awesome Science Facts are being brought straight to your screen. So, without further delay:
Me: You know, instead of reading that book, you could actually help me do some work. Co-worker: I’m not technically reading. It’s a book of photos. Me: I know, I know. I just assumed that looking at a picture book would be the closest you’d ever get to reading, and I wanted to sound encouraging. […]