Resolutions and promises that we make to ourselves in the privacy of our conscious mind are a futile waste of our valuable and finite living hours, this is something that I discussed at length with myself whilst eating a large slab of Lemon Gateaux at yet another New Year’s Eve party. It may have been the home brewed 70% proof thinners that I was drinking mixed with the sugar rush from the cake I was shoveling down my face hole, or possibly the lonely dark cave that brain had been occupying since my girlfriends temporary departure for a BBQ Christmas; whatever the reason, I was feeling rather bleak. There are things in my life that I could change, and the results would be positive but the journey needed to reach improvement seemed to be worse that the infliction that I wish to ‘give up’. I need to quit smoking, I need to save money and like everyone else I want to be happy. But it’s not worked, I’m still unhappy because I can’t stop wasting my money on fags….. Bugger!
But 2011 has taught me some lessons, and I feel it’s only fair to pass on life’s cruel tricks to others. Please don’t make the same mistakes that I did….
Never wipe your arse with….
After a particularly spicy Saturday night Indian takeaway, my bowls decided (all on their own) that rather than digest the chicken Korma, spitting it out my backside at the speed of light would be a much more appropriate action. Unfortunately I was not at my own house, I was in fact visiting friends that evening and by my fifth visit to the toilet, all of the toilet roll had been used (by me). The only thing that I could find within hovering distance (of the throne…) that was not owned by them and linen or cotton based was a packet of Flash bathroom wipes (with extra added bleach!!) … Ring sting plus bleach equals a very unhappy house guest doing an impression john Wayne after riding his horse. Never ever try this at home (or someone else’s home), use your sock instead…..
Do not get into Debt…
We all know that old saying that rich bastards use to try and play down their social status and personal wealth in a vain attempt quell feelings of jealously and murderous rage:’ there’s more to life than money’, maybe so. But money is the back bone of the society that we must inhabit, a society that has been sculpted by years of ‘life’. It’s all very well being self-sufficient on a hippy farm in southern France, growing your own vegetables, killing livestock and drinking your own piss, as money would make very little difference to your everyday life. But for the rest of us, sat freezing in a house that we can’t afford to heat, eating the cheapest edible substitute that passes for food and wondering how the hell we are meant to get to work on the fumes left in the petrol tank of our shitty bangers. Money is essential for living any form of acceptable and satisfying lifestyle, but a lack of it leads the vast majority of us into debt, and credit cards, and pay day loans, and buying clothes from catalogues…. Be warned, it will catch up with you and it will continually beat you around the ankles till you address the problems that you created.
Don’t listen to stupid advice…
Live every day like it’s your last…. This is the holy grail of lifestyle choices that is impossible to achieve unless you’re a Euro millions winner or simply ignoring my earlier advice about debt. If I was aware that this was my last day of living, then I certainly wouldn’t spend it at work; trying to earn some more money so that I can have some fun (probably eating and having somewhere to crash is more apt) on the weekends. But I don’t know when my last of life is so how can I sustain a lifestyle that encourages a wasteful spending pattern, which could last anywhere from a week to 100 years? I’d love to live like the saying suggests but I simply don’t have time.
Do not trust children (even your own)….
All children are pathological liars, pre-programmed from birth to avoid saying anything that would even remotely insinuate their guilt in any given situation, even when I’ve watched them actually committing a crime with my own eyes. I once walked into my son’s bedroom and caught him sat inside the wardrobe; I asked him politely why he was sat in such an odd place. I felt it was a fair question but he decided to simply deny the situation like it never happened and told me that he wasn’t sat in the wardrobe and that I must have mistook his coat hanging up for him. No amount of rational explaining can get the point home that my eyes never came off whilst he was exiting the wardrobe and then stood straight in front of me. I have forehead shaped grooves throughout my crappy rented hovel from previous events where I take solice from gently knocking my head against the wall. I tend to do this till I have forgotten the situation that caused it! The trouble is that over 70% of adults (figures taken from my own opinions…) do not grow out of this habit.
That Celebrities are incapable of naming children appropriately…
Pilot, Kyd, Fifi Trixibelle, Audio Science, Jermajesty are just a simple handful of terrible life changing names that ‘famous Idiots’ have chosen to scar their children with.
And that’s it, after a full year of living; that’s all that I can offer. Live long and prosper peeps…..
