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Author Topic: Dark Alex's Really Long Post Thread.  (Read 312916 times)
Alex
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« on: January 24, 2018, 01:41:12 PM »

Because you demanded it, here is a thread where I will try to make my long posts on. This should keep the people who read them (ER) happy as well as the people who don't (everyone else) who can just ignore it.

This is the point where I run out of things to talk about... :P

I've actually started writing in my diary recently (which is all down to ER in a roundabout way). I've been counting down the days I have left in my job and remembering what I was doing that year.

"Wednesday 24th January.

Cat behaved himself today after last nights crapfest.

1986 days left in the job. In 1986 I was 12 and in Primary 7. One afternoon my mum just took me out of school in the middle of the day. She was leaving my dad finally. We had just the clothes on our backs and went to stay with my aunt Gina & uncle Brian. The beatings had became more blatant, and weekends rather than a break from school were a thing of terror. He would later try to kidnap me on two occasions, starve my pets to death and send them to me through the post in a padded envelope filled with broken glass for bonus points. He also tried to run me and my older brother over with his car. There were threatening phone calls, and he'd try setting various government agencies on us or go sneaking around our house late at night, trying to break in. He even tried phoning my school to speak to me, where I spoke what to this day are still my final words to him "You are not my dad and you are not part of my family" before putting the phone down. I hope those words stung and hurt him. Anyway eventually and finally the judge granted a restraining order and that episode came to an end, although not before it caused a split in the family when one of my mum's brothers took my dad's side. Hell, not even my dad's own blood family took his side. I would not speak again to this particular uncle for many years and although eventually we all got speaking again, I was not upset when I was unable to attend his funeral (it was the day before I flew out to the Falklands. Unfortunately another uncle who I did like also died that day).

As we'd moved to a different area I had to go to a different school. Hayocks Primary School... Wow, that place was a s**thole. The teachers used to physically abuse the pupils, punching and slapping them. I'd been to 4 primary schools at this point as my family moved around and I'd never seen anything like this. I was never hit by my teacher (Mrs Robb), thanks to my gran. My youngest aunt was only 5 years older than me (my gran had 9 kids who lived) and this very same teacher had once slapped her. My gran went down to the school and gave the teacher a black eye for that, and the teachers were still afraid of her (she had to be in her 60's at this point). Needless to say however, Mrs Robb did not like me. We would clash verbally a lot that year. The hygiene standards in Hayocks also left a lot to be desired. I saw school meals (accidentally) dropped on the floor (which to me looked none to clean either) and picked up with bare hands, then put onto plates and served to the pupils. It was the worst school I have ever attended by a country mile and even by the standards of the day should have been closed (although it is still open to this day. I hope things inside have improved since then though). One guy, Sammy Black tried to bully me which I ignored until one day he spat in my face. After what happened next Sammy never as much as spoke to me again. Even then I was broad shouldered and stronger than most guys my age. Going to Hayocks was a real eye opener to me and I hated every day of it. I was so glad when summer rolled around and it would be time to move on to Secondary School, where I'd be back with my friends from my previous school (Ardeer). Shame the kids from Hayocks would also now be going there. Except Sammy... he found another Secondary school to go to.

Looking back on it, '86 was a tough year, but I got through it and figured that if I could do that and survive, then I could take almost anything life would throw at me. By the end of the year although I was back with my friends, they felt juvenile and somehow much younger than me, something that would remain with me throughout the rest of my school years until the last year. I'd lost interest in being a kid and life had moved me on wither I wanted to or not."

Jim walked into our office today and I said to him "Hey Jim, have you seen the trailer for the sequel to Rogue One? They are letting George Lucas direct it."
He replied "But how can they have a sequel, surely everyone in it is dead, well except for Vader."
This continued for a couple of minutes with Max and Inhumanly Tall Dave joining in, until Jim went to say "But surely a sequel to Rogue One would be Star Wa..."

At which point you could practically hear the penny dropping.
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« Reply #1 on: January 24, 2018, 03:40:52 PM »

Because you demanded it, here is a thread where I will try to make my long posts on. This should keep the people who read them (ER) happy as well as the people who don't (everyone else) who can just ignore it.

This is the point where I run out of things to talk about... :P

I've actually started writing in my diary recently (which is all down to ER in a roundabout way). I've been counting down the days I have left in my job and remembering what I was doing that year.

"Wednesday 24th January.

Cat behaved himself today after last nights crapfest.

1986 days left in the job. In 1986 I was 12 and in Primary 7. One afternoon my mum just took me out of school in the middle of the day. She was leaving my dad finally. We had just the clothes on our backs and went to stay with my aunt Gina & uncle Brian. The beatings had became more blatant, and weekends rather than a break from school were a thing of terror. He would later try to kidnap me on two occasions, starve my pets to death and send them to me through the post in a padded envelope filled with broken glass for bonus points. He also tried to run me and my older brother over with his car. There were threatening phone calls, and he'd try setting various government agencies on us or go sneaking around our house late at night, trying to break in. He even tried phoning my school to speak to me, where I spoke what to this day are still my final words to him "You are not my dad and you are not part of my family" before putting the phone down. I hope those words stung and hurt him. Anyway eventually and finally the judge granted a restraining order and that episode came to an end, although not before it caused a split in the family when one of my mum's brothers took my dad's side. Hell, not even my dad's own blood family took his side. I would not speak again to this particular uncle for many years and although eventually we all got speaking again, I was not upset when I was unable to attend his funeral (it was the day before I flew out to the Falklands. Unfortunately another uncle who I did like also died that day).

As we'd moved to a different area I had to go to a different school. Hayocks Primary School... Wow, that place was a s**thole. The teachers used to physically abuse the pupils, punching and slapping them. I'd been to 4 primary schools at this point as my family moved around and I'd never seen anything like this. I was never hit by my teacher (Mrs Robb), thanks to my gran. My youngest aunt was only 5 years older than me (my gran had 9 kids who lived) and this very same teacher had once slapped her. My gran went down to the school and gave the teacher a black eye for that, and the teachers were still afraid of her (she had to be in her 60's at this point). Needless to say however, Mrs Robb did not like me. We would clash verbally a lot that year. The hygiene standards in Hayocks also left a lot to be desired. I saw school meals (accidentally) dropped on the floor (which to me looked none to clean either) and picked up with bare hands, then put onto plates and served to the pupils. It was the worst school I have ever attended by a country mile and even by the standards of the day should have been closed (although it is still open to this day. I hope things inside have improved since then though). One guy, Sammy Black tried to bully me which I ignored until one day he spat in my face. After what happened next Sammy never as much as spoke to me again. Even then I was broad shouldered and stronger than most guys my age. Going to Hayocks was a real eye opener to me and I hated every day of it. I was so glad when summer rolled around and it would be time to move on to Secondary School, where I'd be back with my friends from my previous school (Ardeer). Shame the kids from Hayocks would also now be going there. Except Sammy... he found another Secondary school to go to.

Looking back on it, '86 was a tough year, but I got through it and figured that if I could do that and survive, then I could take almost anything life would throw at me. By the end of the year although I was back with my friends, they felt juvenile and somehow much younger than me, something that would remain with me throughout the rest of my school years until the last year. I'd lost interest in being a kid and life had moved me on wither I wanted to or not."

Jim walked into our office today and I said to him "Hey Jim, have you seen the trailer for the sequel to Rogue One? They are letting George Lucas direct it."
He replied "But how can they have a sequel, surely everyone in it is dead, well except for Vader."
This continued for a couple of minutes with Max and Inhumanly Tall Dave joining in, until Jim went to say "But surely a sequel to Rogue One would be Star Wa..."

At which point you could practically hear the penny dropping.
Your father sounds like toxic waste in human form.
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« Reply #2 on: January 24, 2018, 03:49:35 PM »

Because you demanded it, here is a thread where I will try to make my long posts on. This should keep the people who read them (ER) happy as well as the people who don't (everyone else) who can just ignore it.

This is the point where I run out of things to talk about... :P

I've actually started writing in my diary recently (which is all down to ER in a roundabout way). I've been counting down the days I have left in my job and remembering what I was doing that year.

"Wednesday 24th January.

Cat behaved himself today after last nights crapfest.

1986 days left in the job. In 1986 I was 12 and in Primary 7. One afternoon my mum just took me out of school in the middle of the day. She was leaving my dad finally. We had just the clothes on our backs and went to stay with my aunt Gina & uncle Brian. The beatings had became more blatant, and weekends rather than a break from school were a thing of terror. He would later try to kidnap me on two occasions, starve my pets to death and send them to me through the post in a padded envelope filled with broken glass for bonus points. He also tried to run me and my older brother over with his car. There were threatening phone calls, and he'd try setting various government agencies on us or go sneaking around our house late at night, trying to break in. He even tried phoning my school to speak to me, where I spoke what to this day are still my final words to him "You are not my dad and you are not part of my family" before putting the phone down. I hope those words stung and hurt him. Anyway eventually and finally the judge granted a restraining order and that episode came to an end, although not before it caused a split in the family when one of my mum's brothers took my dad's side. Hell, not even my dad's own blood family took his side. I would not speak again to this particular uncle for many years and although eventually we all got speaking again, I was not upset when I was unable to attend his funeral (it was the day before I flew out to the Falklands. Unfortunately another uncle who I did like also died that day).

As we'd moved to a different area I had to go to a different school. Hayocks Primary School... Wow, that place was a s**thole. The teachers used to physically abuse the pupils, punching and slapping them. I'd been to 4 primary schools at this point as my family moved around and I'd never seen anything like this. I was never hit by my teacher (Mrs Robb), thanks to my gran. My youngest aunt was only 5 years older than me (my gran had 9 kids who lived) and this very same teacher had once slapped her. My gran went down to the school and gave the teacher a black eye for that, and the teachers were still afraid of her (she had to be in her 60's at this point). Needless to say however, Mrs Robb did not like me. We would clash verbally a lot that year. The hygiene standards in Hayocks also left a lot to be desired. I saw school meals (accidentally) dropped on the floor (which to me looked none to clean either) and picked up with bare hands, then put onto plates and served to the pupils. It was the worst school I have ever attended by a country mile and even by the standards of the day should have been closed (although it is still open to this day. I hope things inside have improved since then though). One guy, Sammy Black tried to bully me which I ignored until one day he spat in my face. After what happened next Sammy never as much as spoke to me again. Even then I was broad shouldered and stronger than most guys my age. Going to Hayocks was a real eye opener to me and I hated every day of it. I was so glad when summer rolled around and it would be time to move on to Secondary School, where I'd be back with my friends from my previous school (Ardeer). Shame the kids from Hayocks would also now be going there. Except Sammy... he found another Secondary school to go to.

Looking back on it, '86 was a tough year, but I got through it and figured that if I could do that and survive, then I could take almost anything life would throw at me. By the end of the year although I was back with my friends, they felt juvenile and somehow much younger than me, something that would remain with me throughout the rest of my school years until the last year. I'd lost interest in being a kid and life had moved me on wither I wanted to or not."

Jim walked into our office today and I said to him "Hey Jim, have you seen the trailer for the sequel to Rogue One? They are letting George Lucas direct it."
He replied "But how can they have a sequel, surely everyone in it is dead, well except for Vader."
This continued for a couple of minutes with Max and Inhumanly Tall Dave joining in, until Jim went to say "But surely a sequel to Rogue One would be Star Wa..."

At which point you could practically hear the penny dropping.
Your father sounds like toxic waste in human form.

Pretty accurate description. As I said before, for a long time I'd have killed him given a chance and done my prison time with a smile knowing I'd made the world a better place.
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« Reply #3 on: January 24, 2018, 06:07:34 PM »

Fascinating entry, Alex, keep writing.

I am sorry your father was such a turd.  I was very blessed to have the best father any son could ever ask for, but I know not all are so fortunate.
keep writing!!
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« Reply #4 on: January 25, 2018, 07:39:22 AM »

Preparing for a self audit course at the start on next month and taking notes on what a QAO, QSO, QSC and so on all are, although I can't figure out what SQAC or  indeed a SQEP are or do.

I am fairly proud of myself for working out UQCIM though, and being able to find where a copy of it was held online. You'd need more than a ball of twine to navigate our filing system maze and we have more dangerous creatures than a minotaur lurking there to be sure.

Next I have to memorise the 5 Why's?, the 6 S's and the 8 wastes. Of the 8 wastes I am pretty sure the main one is "My time".

It does not help that while I am trying to find reasons not to study the UQCIM work is steadfastly refusing to come across my desk.

Made all the notes for the rest of the story I am writing at the moment. It has six chapters and I am currently doing the climax of the second one, and our two intrepid investigators are about to find themselves knee deep in trouble. Not to worry though, they'll get much deeper before the story is over...
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« Reply #5 on: January 25, 2018, 01:17:48 PM »

Today's diary (posting this one up just because given that things are running backwards on what I was doing on X year, this is effectively a prequel to the previous diary post. Still a better prequel than The Phantom Menace though and has 100% less Jar Jar Binks.

"Thursday 25th January.

Ususually warm for late January today (15 degrees celcius). Radio was having a man playing the bagpipes to celebrate Burns Night. Troube is he was playing a traditional Irish folk song as played by an Irish rock band. And while it was true that this is my favourite Irish rock band, that still doesn't make Phil Lynett Scottish.

Dagon behaved well last night. He is too much of a social beast to win these fights. The instant I lock him alone in the bathroom he is going to crumble, so he'll be on good behaviour now until the next bout of "I am going to be a little s**t today" strikes him. Besides Kristi says I sleep better when he is in the bedroom with us, and that I roll around in the bed less, and don't throw punches or kicks while I am sleeping.

I am so glad she never asks what it is I am actually dreaming about.

1985 days to go. In 1985 I had a crush on my teacher, Mrs Martin. She had short dark hair and matching eyes and was a mere 30 years older than me. Of course that means she is now in her 70's which is a scary thought. Equally I'd have a crush on her daughter when I met her two years later. She was at the same secondary school as me, although a couple of years older. Her brother was in the same year as me at secondary. Sadly, he was also the only one who ever came onto me. We were doing a week's sailing and cannoing on the isle of Arran when I was 15 (lovely place if you like the countryside) and the male toilets had two showers in it. I was in one and he was in the other. I'd just finished my shower and got out, when he walked out of his, pulled his towel off, turned around, bent over with his hands spreading his ass cheeks and, well I am sure you can guess what he asked me to do.

As much as I am legendary for missing come on signals, I got that one.

And no, I didn't. But this was still all some years in the future. Back to 1985.

I was suddenly doing much better in school throughout this year. I'd always been an indifferent pupil, but this year I'd been promised if I did well and got a good report card I'd get taken up to a big toy store in Glasgow and I could pick any toy I wanted. I had my eye on a Technic Lego set, and had been offered a reason to actually work hard in school. This academic improvement meant I was moved from the Yellow Table where I sat with my two best friends at the time, William Brownlee and Richard Stirrit, through the Green, Blue and finally the coveted Red table where the most academically promising students sat. As soon as I sat down, one of the girls at the table, Donna Willis told me that at this table they didn't talk to new people. This turned out to be wrong and anyway, the last time I saw her I was in my mid 20's and her career choices had reached the mighty heights of collecting tickets on buses. So much for all the academically gifted kids being put together eh? William was an incredible artist and I was rather jealous of this talent, although I had realised some time before where life was going to take him. It started later this year, when he had thrown a stick at some girl and she'd ended up losing an eye. He did time in a borstal for that (if you've ever seen the film 'Scum', I am told that is a pretty accurate representation of kid's prisons (I guess you'd call them Juvinile Hall in the US?) at the time. He was definately a different person the next time I saw him. I always felt really bad every time I went around his house, because his mum thought I spoke lovely (I was never allowed to speak in slang growing up) and repeatidly offered to swap sons with my mum in front of William). I've never looked for what happened to him in later life, but I hope he settled down and was able to use his talent to make a living. I did hear once about his younger brother Iain. He'd ended up getting a tear drop tattooed eye.

I remember during the Easter holidays that year deciding that the girl I'd had a huge crush on for the past three years (yeah, I had a lot of crushes) I was finally going to ask out. Helen Cambridge was her name. She was tall, blonde haired with clear blue eyes. So I came back from the school holiday, having built myself up to ask her, only to discover her family had moved to somewhere in Ireland.

Wow, that kind of killed my ego for a bit.

That summer we went on holiday, which was especially memorable for me. My dad had quit his job and was starting up his own business, but he was at home a lot more now and told me as we were on the beach that since he'd quit he'd gotten to know me a lot better and the more he knew me the less he liked me.

I feel vaguely proud of that actually.

Speaking of someone being proud it was also the one time I know of that I ever did anything that made him proud. I'd been out for Hallowe'en and had let two guys from the year below me go round with them to keep them safe. A guy from the year above me at school came running at us with a knife demanding our sweets. I fought him off while shouting at the two kids to go get help receiving for my troubles a slash across my left eyelid. This was my first knife injury, and compared to the later ones was barely even a scratch, although at the time I was pretty damn upset about it. Around the same time, my older brother who had always been my dad's golden child had his first arguement with my dad. He shut Jim out and turned his attention to me. This was neither wanted nor welcome. Indeed in some cases it made me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

It was also around this time that cracks started to appear in my family life, my mum had decided she was divorcing my dad. They were still living in the same house though. I'd hadn't ever thought too much of the beating I'd received from him, after all I'd seen both Richard and William get the same from their fathers and it seemed normal.

I guess just because something is normal though doesn't make it right.

With dad having quit his job, there was less money around than we'd had before. I remember my pile of Christmas presents being significantly smaller this year than any other. I hid my childish disappointment though, put on a huge smile and declared it the best christmas ever. The signs of how the next year would go were there, especially when I woke up one night to shouting and found Jim pulling my dad off my mum as he tried to shove her jewellry down her throat (she had taken to sleeping in our room at this point) and choke her to death.

Looking back it seems amazing to me now that I viewed myself as a happy, balanced child unaware that in fact my life was far from normal.
« Last Edit: January 25, 2018, 05:22:38 PM by Dark Alex » Logged

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« Reply #6 on: January 26, 2018, 02:39:52 AM »

Ah, the joys of a gout attack. My knee is rather swollen up and I spent the night not sleeping. Still, better my knee which is only a moderate pain. If it hits my big toe then that jumps way up to severe. I have medication that will fix it up in a matter of minutes, but that leaves me feeling really sick for an entire day so I'll wait until I finish work tonight before I take them.

I am rather tempted to phone in sick, or at least phone in and ask for someone to come and pick me up rather than walking in but I know I'll make the journey in regardless. I hope it's a short day though as I'd like nothing more right now than to soak my knee in a hot bath. This is what happens though when I forget to take my meds for 3 days.

Anyway, I need to head off to work. Have a good day / night everyone, what ever you are.
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« Reply #7 on: January 26, 2018, 07:40:42 AM »

Between putting up my last post and me getting to work, the cat was sick and I mistook a spray bottle full of vinegar for one full of water.

This necessitated me having to quickly iron a fresh pair of trousers for work.

Inhumanly Tall Dave walked into work this morning. I took one look at his face and thought "He doesn't look well." He sat down, put his head in his hands and then put a pair of dark glasses on and I am thinking, ok headache then, possibly a migrane, but given other things I suspect a stress induced headache. Since Dave doesn't tend to go home no matter how sick he is I decided I'd sit there and be a quiet as possible (he doesn't drink alcohol so unlikely to be a hangover).

Just as I was thinking this Max walked past me and put the radio on. Personally I dislike Chris Evans generally. I can only imagine how bad listening to that ginger chipmonk would feel with a bad head. I understand completely why Dave turned round at this point and decided to go home after all. Before I almost completely stopped watching terrestial TV I found that pretty much every male presenter on channel 4 irrirtated the hell out of me, with the possible exception of a guy called Richard Whitely. He was a very genial gameshow host on the kind of show your maiden aunt might watch, although there were rumours that as a younger man he'd been involved with MI5 or 6.

Still having urges to take off on some grand adventure. Given I am about 6 weeks away from Kristi giving birth, it would have to be a much shorter one and hopefully less stabby than usual. As an example, the stuff with Soozee took over a year of being involved with, and even then at the end I walked away from it deciding I would never get to the bottom of exactly who was behind the hate mail being sent to her. I had stopped the people who were doing that, but I never did find out who or why someone had got them to do it, only that she wasn't a random target. It's funny but when ever I think of that whole time I always catch myself absent mindidly scratching the stab would I named after her, on my hip (as a quick guide the one on my face (left side of the nose, between my nose and eye. It gives one half of my face a slightly oriental type look) is Lindsey, left shoulder is Stella, left hip is Soozee, right leg just below the knee wasn't caused by a woman either directly or indirectly, so hasn't gotten a name and neither have my chest wounds since unless I shave my chest you can't really see those ones quite so well).

Hmm, maybe I should get some more wounds on my right side just to balance things out a bit?
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« Reply #8 on: January 26, 2018, 08:21:19 AM »

Between putting up my last post and me getting to work, the cat was sick and I mistook a spray bottle full of vinegar for one full of water.

This necessitated me having to quickly iron a fresh pair of trousers for work.


 TeddyR TeddyR BounceGiggle
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« Reply #9 on: January 26, 2018, 03:34:18 PM »

Sitting by myself, while Kristi is resting in our bed. She was complaining earlier that Ash was lying in an uncomfortable position so I suggested she wriggle her belly around to move the baby, but she refused. I got an evil look later on when she overheard a conversation between me and a friend and realised that this had been part of a cunning plan on my part to try and get her to do the truffle shuffle. Hmm, I've seen ER mention something about wanting another baby. Maybe if she gets pregnant I could persuade her?

Oh well, I owe her one for cooking brussel sprouts last night. Not that I ate them. We (she) had dinner guests who didn't leave until quite late ruining my plans to read something I'd been sent and do some writing.

Got music playing. I want to put on a film, but its playing through my favourite songs and I can't quite bring myself to stop them. Oh well, after about 17 hours it will get down to the music that I am just ok with rather than loving and I am sure I can switch it off then.

I wonder what Ash will think of my music. Will it seem as out of date as my parents music from the 60's did when I was a child?

Saw an interview with the Turnip on TV today from Davos (wasn't that the creator of the Daleks?). He didn't exactly apologise for something, but he did say he would be prepared to apologise for it.

Got one of my swords out today and went through a practise routine, something I've not done for a decade or so. The moves and stances came back to me and felt refreshing. I'd have liked to get the katana out, but it's blade is a bit long for the space I have inside (and neighbours complain I've found if you leap around waving a sword in the air), so one of the shorter blades came out instead. For my fighting style the length of the blade is very important and it's surprising just how much of an advantage you get if yours is just a few inches longer than your oppoents (get your mind out of the gutter people!). I really was born about 800 years too late. Mind you, if I got to go back to that time I'd appreciate it if you could send back central heating too. And good music. Oh, I'd also need my toothbrush. Did you know the reason for the whole folded blades thing in Japan was because they had such poor quality iron and had to come up with a way to compensate? And people did not generally parry blades with their weapons (and if you used a two handed weapon you either kill them before they can get close or take the blow on your armour if you can't dodge it). That's what a shield was for. It you start clunking swords together, what you end up with is lots of chips out of your blade. And that point in sword fights were someone spins around. That point where your back is facing me as you turn around? That is the part where plunge my sword into your back, then give it a good hard shove so it comes out the front of your chest. Keep spinning around at that point if you want. It's only going make things easier on me disposing of the body. Seriously, if Highlander was real, it would take me less than hour to win the prize lol. Then you'd all be in trouble. Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!

Wait dammit, wrong evil plan again!

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« Reply #10 on: January 28, 2018, 07:11:41 AM »

Although since I've gotten married I've found I no longer get up as soon as I wake up and have actually lain in bed until 10:30am recently (enjoy that while it last's buddy, those days are coming to an end real soon), I have been finding I get a sore back when I lie that late in bed.

Or maybe I am just having sympathy pains?

Although I've been cutting down on junk food, today I think I am going to give into my bodies craving for some Irn Bru and take a walk to the shop. It looks much nicer outside today than yesterday. We had storm force winds and rain which I don't mind individually but combined can be something of a pain. The various times I went out side required four changes of trousers, for each time I got back home.

Hmm, North Korea is almost bankrupt from making their nukes. That would explain the whole South Korea combined sports team thing. I guess they are trying to drum up tourism a bit. Didn't they learn anything from the fall of the USSR and trying to match your enemies weapons? Truth is (and sadly so), I believe if Kim kept himself off the international stage and just did whatever he wanted to do in his own country without all this posturing and trying to look big no one would really care what he did and he could run his country into the ground just as hard as he liked.

What is it about dictators and funny hair anyway? I mean Hitler had his side parting and 'tache, Mussolini had his enormous big bald head, Stalin had his comedy 'tache too. I bet Attila, Tamerlane and Genghis all had something funny going on headwise too. Somehow I picture Attila as a mullet man and I bet Genghis rocked a pompadour.

Maybe a requirement for world leaders should be "Must have good head of hair, kept in reasonable style as a sign of your mental stability"?

Hey people from around the world, how does YOUR leaders hair stand up on a crazy hair test?

Had a dream that me and Kristi had a raging argument last night. Can't remember what it was about. I do remember waking up at the end of it, telling her we needed to cuddle tighter so we wouldn't argue, wrapping her up in my arms and then going back to sleep though.

Hopefully the rabbits will be going today. The woman who is taking them runs a few of her own businesses and one of her employees was giving her some problems and had to be fired, so she wasn't able to pick them up on Friday. Funny, when I think of all my favourite pets they have all generally been predatory creatures, rather than leaf munchers. I guess I just find they have more personality.

Alas however, my request for a shark tank big enough for the pets I really want has been denied. Plus I'd have to either find a hitherto undiscovered pocket of surviving megalodons or y'know go all Jurassic Shark and have one genetically recreated.

More than 2/3's of the way through the story I am writing and almost not wanting to finish it, because when I get to the end of chapter 6, well that is it done and finished. When I first thought of this story, it was the end that came to me first, then the beginning and the middle parts I more or less have just made up as I've been writing it. So far the names of all the characters have changed once, the location six times and a myriad of tiny details altered, many of which had me combing through the rest of the story to find other parts that this then changed. Oh well time to check the world news.

Hmm, Turkey is squaring up to the US in Syria and sending tanks over the border, that could turn out to be interesting. The founder of Ikea has died (my first thought was wither or not his coffin would come with assembly instructions) as has a comic guy that Kristi likes. Does a strip about a layabout soldier Beedle Bailey which I'd imagine people in the US are more familiar with than me, someone crashed a car into some kids in London (does it make a difference that it doesn't seem to have been a terrorist attack and therefore doesn't get top billing on the report?) and another suicide bomber in Kabul has killed a load of people.

What a wonderful world we live in. Shame the news rarely reports on good stuff happening, but I guess that doesn't get as many viewers. Think that's enough news for today. It's a bright sunny day outside, I currently have a good life and that is reason enough for me to be happy and not sweat the small s**t. What's coming is coming and nothing is going to stop it. I am going to get dressed, have breakfast and go outside for a bit to enjoy the day with my wife.

Have a wonderful sun shiny day all. :)
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #11 on: January 28, 2018, 08:05:19 AM »

Gandhi had no hair at all, so you may be on to something. Oh wait, wait, Lex Luther, supervillain, was also bald, so nope it can't be the hair's fault.
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« Reply #12 on: January 29, 2018, 01:41:38 PM »

They were running a back up generator test at work today. No one thought to actually warn us about it in advance however, so all our computers shut down in the middle of us doing stuff. When the power came back on later, it had tripped a circuit breaker that we are not allowed to go reset (seriously!), so we'd to get the contractors out to do that for us.

Right, because as a technician with 17 years experience on aircraft I have no idea how to push a button.

Anyway, since we couldn't work I went over a copy of the story I'd finished writing, noting where words had to be corrected, dates altared and a few other minor bits sorted out. Once I finished that, I started mulling over another story I'd had lurking at the back of my mind.

It all started a few years back when Randy Savage had died. Some preacher had announced the world was ending a few days after this. Anyway needless to say said day came and went.

Some time after that I saw a cartoon where Jesus was lying on the floor of a wrestling ring and the Macho Man was dropping a flying elbow on him from the top rope, with the legend "Apocalypse? Not on my watch. Oh yeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah".

Anyway that got me thinking about all the competiting religions as competing WWE factions and how that would go.

So I started thinking about that more. With his crown of thorns, crucifiction and whatnot, Jesus seemed a natural for the Hard-Core Champion and things just seemed to grow from there.

I figure if I was ever to actually post it anywhere or get it published it would be instant fatwah on my ass, which is a shame because I like the concept. And writing the story, it's surprising on how much of things actually fit really well into WWE type story lines. It doesn't just cover modern religions though. The first match is a tag team bout between the Gods Of Thunder (Zeus & Thor) against AnNILEation (a couple of Egyptian deities).

Who wins? Well thats for me to know.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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« Reply #13 on: January 30, 2018, 03:20:44 PM »

Out to the hospital with Kristi for another scan. Not long to go now until the big day. Back up to the hospital tomorrow to talk to the anesthetist. Kristi was a bit shocked to discover the local hospital doesn't do epidurals, but she did some research and found out that they score incredibly highly on the stuff they do, do. She says she wants what ever they'll give her which I am fine with. I am not going to persuade her to go with a natural childbirth, cos well in the past I've had some pretty big poops and I know how much they hurt trying to get out and I am assuming children are worse.

I've been thinking the usual sort of thoughts any parent has to decide about when it comes to children.

What age should I let him first see Star Wars?
Which order should I show him Star Wars in?
Since me and the wife are both geeks, what do we do if he is into sports?
Will he try to take my favourite colour to play in Risk off me?
What will his favouite bad movie be?

Stuff like that.

Does anyone know anything about starting up one of those Kickstarter things? I was wondering if I could put one on to fund me buying my private island and build my evil genius lair on it. Backing it would get you a whole range of things right up to being one of my disposable guards if you back it with enough cash. Stretch goals would include things like snazzy uniforms for my minions, marksmanship classes for them, maybe evil healthcare and dental plans too.

Yeah, I know. I am a caring, sharing sort of evil genius.

Was trying to think of a name to market it under. I had thought of "Have Cat, Will Dominate", but that sort of sounds like a deviants porno.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
ER
B-Movie Kraken
*****

Karma: 1754
Posts: 13424


The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #14 on: January 30, 2018, 04:24:38 PM »

Out to the hospital with Kristi for another scan. Not long to go now until the big day. Back up to the hospital tomorrow to talk to the anesthetist. Kristi was a bit shocked to discover the local hospital doesn't do epidurals, but she did some research and found out that they score incredibly highly on the stuff they do, do. She says she wants what ever they'll give her which I am fine with. I am not going to persuade her to go with a natural childbirth, cos well in the past I've had some pretty big poops and I know how much they hurt trying to get out and I am assuming children are worse.

I've been thinking the usual sort of thoughts any parent has to decide about when it comes to children.

What age should I let him first see Star Wars?
Which order should I show him Star Wars in?
Since me and the wife are both geeks, what do we do if he is into sports?
Will he try to take my favourite colour to play in Risk off me?
What will his favouite bad movie be?

Stuff like that.

Does anyone know anything about starting up one of those Kickstarter things? I was wondering if I could put one on to fund me buying my private island and build my evil genius lair on it. Backing it would get you a whole range of things right up to being one of my disposable guards if you back it with enough cash. Stretch goals would include things like snazzy uniforms for my minions, marksmanship classes for them, maybe evil healthcare and dental plans too.

Yeah, I know. I am a caring, sharing sort of evil genius.

Was trying to think of a name to market it under. I had thought of "Have Cat, Will Dominate", but that sort of sounds like a deviants porno.

There apparently was a man who set one up to fund the bringing of the elder gods into the world, and promised if you contributed, you'd be among the first to be eaten when the gods came through into this dimension, therefore sparing them seeing the horrors that awaited the rest of humanity, so maybe you could offer contributors clean head shots from your death rays in exchange for funding?

And to answer your question about Star Wars, there is no bad age for introducing a youngling to the wonders of that long ago and far, far away galaxy, but ease the lad into Jar-Jar, since he's been known to bamage drain cells.
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