Writing Literotica

The biggest problem with penning an erotical novel is that any taste or fetish expressed by the main male character will be irrevicably associated with myself. I don't want that; I'm a squeaky-clean paragon of purity.

Maybe I can just write the sex scenes using nothing but euphemism.

Also, holy shit there's a little dead worm thing is this bag of seeds with fangy teeth. I'm done with eating seeds.

Laid in China

Was eating some Chinese sunflower seeds, feeling all healthy like, when an insect crawled out of the packet.

Comedic Platinum

As if freezing somebody's shoes wasn't hilarious enough, the geniuses at the Comedy Labs have really taken things to the next level.

Filling shoes up with water > freezing them > thawing them > freezing them again.

Those wacky funsters.

And hey, if freeze-thaw action was good enough for the Lake District, it's good enough for my shoes.

Today Is The Day For Coining Something

I've started doing the thing where you walk into a room, stand around trying to remember what you came into the room for, and eventually walk out in defeat, only with Wikipedia.

Pick up a p-p-p-p-p-puh-puh-puuuuh-p-p-pen

At the time of writing, I'm in the process of being forced out of the library by it's aggressive air conditioning system. I thought the computer area might be slightly warmer. Alas.

Next time, shall bring a jumper.

Also, I had a weird moment of genuine stammering today. Whilst buying a pen from the library desk, I accidentally said 'can I buy a ben' and, immediately attempting to correct myself, stuttered 'pe-pe-peh-peh-puh' for a number of seconds, eventually having to consciously stop myself and restart. It's never happened before and was momentarily distressing.

Also is 'can I buy a Ben' a Freudian slip?

Also is this blog becoming a catalogue of all my social, physical, and emotional failings?

This PC is directly beneath a vent and I'm physically trembling with hypothermia, so will end here.

A haircut is like a box of chocolates

You never know what you're gonna get.

I now look like this:

Post-Mortal

I fancy writing a post on my new warcraft Death Knight, if only to put off having to assemble a review cataloging the various failures of Quantum of Solace. Such a feat goes beyond me, for the time being.

But nobody cares about my Death Knight.

I don't even care about my Death Knight, having destroyed and remade it no less than 4 times.

Styxandstonez is probably my punniest name to date.

I'm so tired.

Big Brother Corporation

According to a recent letter, enforcement officers are scheduled to enter my flat in the near future to investigate why I haven't been paying my TV license.

Judging by the tone of the letter, they'll be coming in through the window, black gasmasks rasping, electrified batons set to ultra-kill.

At least the righteous glory of being proven innocent is a fine thing.

(Not that I dislike the BBC; they do good work with other people's licensing fee. But I expect Auntie Beeb of all people to be a little more polite when she sends a letter.)

Things that I would change about myself

Moving my eyebrows closer to the midline, increasing my scowling capacity by 50%.

Overplayed Song of the Week

This week I have been mostly playing:

Chairlift - Bruises

over and over.

Quantum of Solace, Avagadro's Constant of Action II

I'm too drunk right now to review this movie objectively.

All I can say is WHAT THE FUCK.

I shall prepare a full list of flaws through the period of soberingity and sleeping.

Abusing the generosity of the church

Not for the first or the last time.

The church on Perth Road gives out a cup of hearty lentil soup on Wednesday, and seemingly has been doing for years, though this has only recently come to my attention.

So I'm eating soup atm.

I say 'abusing' because presumably the expected repayment is for me to consider welcoming Jesus Christ into my heart. And that's never likely to happen.

Free Sugar

Was so tired this morning, I mistakenly vended Sugar Free Diet Coke.

Irony has never tasted so bitter.

Circadian calendar

I finally figured out my sleeping pattern. It was deceptively simple.

It operates on a weekly cycle.

Friday - Saturday: Stay up late, because it's the weekend
Sunday: Stay up late, because I woke up late
Monday: Wake up early for lectures, exhausted. Nap during afternoon, ensuring that do not sleep until late than night.
Tuesday: Same as Monday
Wednesday: Same as Tuesday.
Thursday: The ineffectiveness of naps has gradually brought bedtime earlier and earlier, and I am now more or less in line with societal norms.
Friday: Stay up late, because it's the weekend.

Komm, süßer tod

It being November, it's customary for me to fall into a spiraling pit of despair around now, escaping this existential crisis only through the painful mental breakdown and reconstruction that is my birthday.

Perhaps this year will be different. Perhaps Gross Anatomy has allowed me to face the idea of my own mortality with a smile and a calm hand.

And I left my Evangelion DVD at home. So I'm less likely to kill myself.

It all returns to nothing,
It all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling down
It all returns to nothing,
I just keep letting me down, letting me down, letting me down

Dodged a bullet there.

Short/sweet

I think that I would like to see
My posts return to brevity

Halloween Costume of the Future

The theme for next Halloween's Costume will be The Past.

Exhausted by Heath Ledger's Jokers and sick of flash-in-the-pan pop culture references, I'll be going with something timeless. A classy classic.

Sherlock Holmes was an option, but by this time next year it too will be a pop culture reference.

Flip you, Guy Ritchie.

Hell-oween

I don't know what to think about this recent Halloween shabackle.

On the one hand, I've never been abandoned by my fellow man in such a time of need so totally as last night.

On the other hand, I seem to feed off social embarrassment in a way that is somewhat worrying. Kindof like those bacteria at Chernobyl that thrive off harmful nuclear radiation.

Which is a fitting(?) metaphor, as I was the Hulk.

Anyway, the breakdown of the costumes on show were:

• 50% The Jokers
• 3 Incredible Hulks
• 1 Squall
• 1 Scout
  
• 1 insanely sexy pikachu

And some other bullshit.