Sunday, 21 June 2009
Rabbit
I feel the need to talk about a couple of points that have been coming up recently. It's probably not something to make a fuss over, but I'm concerned how prominent my nipples have been recently. And we're not talking about Man Boobs or Moobs here. I'm (was "we" earlier) talking about just my nipples and how they love to be the center of attention whenever I have my picture taken.
I can be anywhere, doing anything, and they will always be the first thing that screams out at you from the picture.
In front of Niagara Falls? NIPPLES!
The Pyramids? LOOK, NIPPLES!
The Second Coming? LOOK! JENKS' NIPPLES AGAIN!
I don't know what it is? I wear a lot of T-Shirts, which doesn't help. But frankly, I don't fancy wearing layers of clothes to cover them up. Nearly every YouTube video I have made pretty much focuses on my chest, and so they are always in my face when I watch them back. And having my own nipples in my face is not the kind of video I want to settle down with my tea and toast to watch.
Now, whenever I see pics of myself, I look straight at my nips. I'm becoming my own worst perv.
Still, if you can't perv at yourself, who can you?
Plus at least I know I'm not dangerous?
But I do know where I live.
But if I try anything on myself, I DO know what address to give the Police.
This post makes no sense.
I'd just like a picture to be taken that doesn't have my nipples screaming out at me.
I can be anywhere, doing anything, and they will always be the first thing that screams out at you from the picture.
In front of Niagara Falls? NIPPLES!
The Pyramids? LOOK, NIPPLES!
The Second Coming? LOOK! JENKS' NIPPLES AGAIN!
I don't know what it is? I wear a lot of T-Shirts, which doesn't help. But frankly, I don't fancy wearing layers of clothes to cover them up. Nearly every YouTube video I have made pretty much focuses on my chest, and so they are always in my face when I watch them back. And having my own nipples in my face is not the kind of video I want to settle down with my tea and toast to watch.
Now, whenever I see pics of myself, I look straight at my nips. I'm becoming my own worst perv.
Still, if you can't perv at yourself, who can you?
Plus at least I know I'm not dangerous?
But I do know where I live.
But if I try anything on myself, I DO know what address to give the Police.
This post makes no sense.
I'd just like a picture to be taken that doesn't have my nipples screaming out at me.
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Oh what a feelin'
That reminds me of the times that I would sneak up on my mum and grab her.
Yeah, I know. Hilarious when I do it. Not so funny when they do it back to me. What can I say? I'm a hyper-crite.
But many a time, mum would be minding her own business, and I would sneak up and grab her or touch her back or something. She would go apeshit at me. Usually using words like "You fuckin' bastard!"
I would of course, be pissing myself with laughter. And using the old "Who did you think it was" disclaimer that people that jump out on others always use. She probably thought it was Freddy Fucking Krueger knowing her, but as long as I said that line "Who did you think it was?" Or "It's only me and you in the house, why'd you jump?" then that was ok, and I could make it look like SHE had the problem. Thus removing any guilt and or blame from myself. See how this works? There's legal mumbo jumbo in everything. From buying a scalding hot McCoffee, to scaring the pants off of a loved one.
The downside to all this laughter was that now and then she would clutch her chest, struggle to breathe, and mumble something like "You could've killed me".
Now, you have to understand, my mum was not a well woman at this time. And there probably was a chance that a shock could actually kill her. I had thought of this. Many times. Normally just AFTER I've jumped out at her. But strangely never before?
One time, she actually asked me "What would you do if I dropped down dead?"
To which I replied "I'd just say I came downstairs and found you like this."
I mean, what did she expect me to do?
Go to the police and confess I'd scared her to death?
What good would that do? Mum was a chainsmoking diabetic. SOMETHING was gonna make her drop down one day. If I "accidentally", "may" have accelerated that through "no fault of my own", then there's no point in me being punished is there? And besides, is there a law against scaring folks to death?
And anyway, mum always had a good attitude when it came to death. Particularly her own. She used to say "When I'm gone, I don't want a fancy funeral. Nothing expensive, ok?"
"Mum, when you're dead, I'm putting your body out in the rubbish bin" I'd reply "Is that cheap enough for you?"
As it is, mum, when she did die (and NO I didn't kill her!) , had a modest, but adequate funeral, that to this day still hasn't been paid for in full. Mum would have liked that. I mean, what are they gonna do? Dig her back up? And before you say it, I'm not solely responsible for paying for the funeral. The whole family are. And that, my dear reader, is why to this day, my mum's funeral hasn't been paid for. Because my family just don't agree on anything. Including paying for their mum's burial.
I tell ya, if I could have got away with the bin bag thing.......
Yeah, I know. Hilarious when I do it. Not so funny when they do it back to me. What can I say? I'm a hyper-crite.
But many a time, mum would be minding her own business, and I would sneak up and grab her or touch her back or something. She would go apeshit at me. Usually using words like "You fuckin' bastard!"
I would of course, be pissing myself with laughter. And using the old "Who did you think it was" disclaimer that people that jump out on others always use. She probably thought it was Freddy Fucking Krueger knowing her, but as long as I said that line "Who did you think it was?" Or "It's only me and you in the house, why'd you jump?" then that was ok, and I could make it look like SHE had the problem. Thus removing any guilt and or blame from myself. See how this works? There's legal mumbo jumbo in everything. From buying a scalding hot McCoffee, to scaring the pants off of a loved one.
The downside to all this laughter was that now and then she would clutch her chest, struggle to breathe, and mumble something like "You could've killed me".
Now, you have to understand, my mum was not a well woman at this time. And there probably was a chance that a shock could actually kill her. I had thought of this. Many times. Normally just AFTER I've jumped out at her. But strangely never before?
One time, she actually asked me "What would you do if I dropped down dead?"
To which I replied "I'd just say I came downstairs and found you like this."
I mean, what did she expect me to do?
Go to the police and confess I'd scared her to death?
What good would that do? Mum was a chainsmoking diabetic. SOMETHING was gonna make her drop down one day. If I "accidentally", "may" have accelerated that through "no fault of my own", then there's no point in me being punished is there? And besides, is there a law against scaring folks to death?
And anyway, mum always had a good attitude when it came to death. Particularly her own. She used to say "When I'm gone, I don't want a fancy funeral. Nothing expensive, ok?"
"Mum, when you're dead, I'm putting your body out in the rubbish bin" I'd reply "Is that cheap enough for you?"
As it is, mum, when she did die (and NO I didn't kill her!) , had a modest, but adequate funeral, that to this day still hasn't been paid for in full. Mum would have liked that. I mean, what are they gonna do? Dig her back up? And before you say it, I'm not solely responsible for paying for the funeral. The whole family are. And that, my dear reader, is why to this day, my mum's funeral hasn't been paid for. Because my family just don't agree on anything. Including paying for their mum's burial.
I tell ya, if I could have got away with the bin bag thing.......
Dancing on the ceiling.
Picture the scene- I'm half dressed. Sleepy. Wet (ish). And just about to apply a liberal coating of antiperspirant to my armpits, when suddenly, from out of nowhere (actually, somewhere to the right of me), a hand touches my back. I jumped miles. Frankly, it's a miracle that the roll-on didn't go up my nose, I jumped that much. "A" had snuck up on me and "ninja-like" applied the touch of death. I fucking crapped myself.
"Who did you think it was?" she asked while giggling.
"A SCARY DEAD JAPANESE GIRL WITH LONG HAIR, THAT'S WHO." I replied, while trying to release my grip from my Lynx Africa (tm).
This is at least the second time that "A" has scared the crap out of me. The pregnancy scares aside (joking), they have both been pretty scary for me. And I blame this on one thing, and one thing only. A creepy little Asian horror film called Ring.
Now, I have always enjoyed horror films. I like a good scare, and the plot freedom for these films is something that my imagination can run free in. You don't really have to explain how the monster is there, it just IS. The dead girl that's come back to avenge her torture and murder? She's doing so because she CAN. Ok?
But following on from these recent scares, I have realised that now, when confronted with something scary in the dark, I instantly think of the girl from the Ring book and movie. See? It's a book now as well.
Anyway. On both occasions, I instantly think:
"ARGH! SCARY DEAD JAPANESE GIRL WITH LONG HAIR!"
Is this it?
Is this the thing that I am now most scared of?
Cancer and anal rape aside, this is now what my mind thinks of when it is in the dark and afraid.
I have seen countless horror films, read countless novels, slain MILLIONS of zombies in Resident Evil, Silent Hill etc, yet when I get scared or surprised (in a bad way, not birthday party kind of way), I now think of that little dead girl, Sadako. And I'm not alone. Many of my friends hate that film because of that girl. Steve now insists on covering his eyes during the end scene of that film. You know what I'm talking about. It's just genuinely creepy. I know it's just a film. But the image is enough to stay in my head long, long after the film is over.
When you get grabbed by an unseen hand, or something jumps out at you, is it a reflex, or does your mind go "SCARY DEAD JAPANESE GIRL WITH LONG HAIR!"
I know what mine does.
"Who did you think it was?" she asked while giggling.
"A SCARY DEAD JAPANESE GIRL WITH LONG HAIR, THAT'S WHO." I replied, while trying to release my grip from my Lynx Africa (tm).
This is at least the second time that "A" has scared the crap out of me. The pregnancy scares aside (joking), they have both been pretty scary for me. And I blame this on one thing, and one thing only. A creepy little Asian horror film called Ring.
Now, I have always enjoyed horror films. I like a good scare, and the plot freedom for these films is something that my imagination can run free in. You don't really have to explain how the monster is there, it just IS. The dead girl that's come back to avenge her torture and murder? She's doing so because she CAN. Ok?
But following on from these recent scares, I have realised that now, when confronted with something scary in the dark, I instantly think of the girl from the Ring book and movie. See? It's a book now as well.
Anyway. On both occasions, I instantly think:
"ARGH! SCARY DEAD JAPANESE GIRL WITH LONG HAIR!"
Is this it?
Is this the thing that I am now most scared of?
Cancer and anal rape aside, this is now what my mind thinks of when it is in the dark and afraid.
I have seen countless horror films, read countless novels, slain MILLIONS of zombies in Resident Evil, Silent Hill etc, yet when I get scared or surprised (in a bad way, not birthday party kind of way), I now think of that little dead girl, Sadako. And I'm not alone. Many of my friends hate that film because of that girl. Steve now insists on covering his eyes during the end scene of that film. You know what I'm talking about. It's just genuinely creepy. I know it's just a film. But the image is enough to stay in my head long, long after the film is over.
When you get grabbed by an unseen hand, or something jumps out at you, is it a reflex, or does your mind go "SCARY DEAD JAPANESE GIRL WITH LONG HAIR!"
I know what mine does.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Homeless
One thing about Vancouver that has surprised me is the large number of beggars that are to be found around every corner. I won't call them homeless because very few of them are actually homeless. Some have friend's floors, a shelter, maybe a cardboard box even, but they have all found themselves in a state of financial askyness. Meaning, they ask others for money. On one afternoon walk, I think (A) and I were asked 7 times for money by different people. This is a new experience for me. I've lived in a city before, but have never had to say no to so many people. I don't know their stories and they certainly don't know mine (or maybe even care to?), but it's still hard to refuse somebody help when they have asked for it. It's a tricky thing. Everybody has choices in life. Some, you get to make, others are made for you. But very few outcomes are irreversible. I worked my little butt off to raise the money to fly to be with (A). I have never had a proper holiday in my life. I had to quit my jobs to have the time to come here. And I will freely admit, that by some peoples standards, I had a shitty childhood. And I don't just mean I didn't get the Transformer toy that I wanted for Christmas. The point is, the people coming up to me and asking for my spare change, are doing so without knowing what that money means to me. They are making an assumption about me based entirely on my appearance. Just as I am making one about them. You and I are far more likely to give money to a smelly, bearded guy in torn clothes, than we are a clean, sharp looking guy in a suit. Don't believe me? Why don't beggars ever hassle other beggars for money? Because they assume they have none, just by their appearance. Just as I assume the same about them. But the truth is, I don't know if that person has had a tough, unfair life, or has squandered money on drink, drugs, or even perhaps even drowned kittens or murdered people? It's impossible for me to tell. I have no problem if they are polite, but a couple of times in the past, I have had abuse because I have politely said sorry, but no, to someone asking for money. I like helping people. I get a warm gooey feeling every time that I do. I believe that everyone can help others if they wish to. The world would be a better place if we did, but do we owe each other help? I don't think so. Some of the stories people tell to try to get you to part with money are really quite amazing. I've heard ones with action, sadness, plot twists, romance, I even heard on guy claim to have helped blow up the Death Star. I appreciate that a lot of people are genuinely nice people that have had a tough time of life and I wish I could help them all (only the nice ones), but it can't be done. I do still give change to people now and then, much to my own annoyance. And I'm a sucker for buskers. If you want money from me, play music. For some reason, I feel comfortable giving my change to people that can afford a guitar and amplifier?
Why have I just blogged about this? I have no idea? It's late and I think I lost my point somewhere? At least I'm honest? I guess I just don't like it when someone comes up to me and asks me for change. Then if I say no, I get to feel crappy about it.
Maybe if I showered less and didn't change clothes so often, they would stop asking?
It's a thought........
Why have I just blogged about this? I have no idea? It's late and I think I lost my point somewhere? At least I'm honest? I guess I just don't like it when someone comes up to me and asks me for change. Then if I say no, I get to feel crappy about it.
Maybe if I showered less and didn't change clothes so often, they would stop asking?
It's a thought........
Wildlife encounter
(A) and I were walking through Stanley Park. It was a pretty nice walk and I had already had a fun afternoon. Little did I realize that my day was about to involve WILDLIFE!
Dun-dun-DUUUUUUUUUUUN!
I'm not normally good with animals. Infact, ask my friends, and they'll happily tell you how I'm not much good with anything. Since arriving in Vancouver, I have seen oodles of seagulls and crows. Crows are everywhere in Vancouver. How they haven't ended up running the place, is beyond me? Anyway, I don't "fear" animals and insects (except spiders and horses!!!), but I just don't like to mix with them if I can avoid it. Most of the time, my imagination takes over and I fear the worst when it comes to wildlife (SPIDERHORSES!!! EEK!).
But I AM fully insured, so it's not a huge deal if a bear rips my arm off and uses it to beat my screaming head in.
See what I mean? I always go over the top.
I'm sure bears are calm, gentle creatures. And I'm sure they're more scared of me than I am of them? But I can't get the idea out of my head that the bears are lining up to attack me, with a baseball bat that has a black widow spider taped to the side of it. I'm stupid and my own worst enemy sometimes.
Anyway, we stopped to nibble on snacky goodness by a lake, when (A) noticed a Raccoon that was being papped by a couple of tourists. Tourists that had cameras with lenses that were far too healthy to carry around. They were calling and cooing at this Raccoon, trying to get it to look round, vogue, work it, etc, but the little thing was having none of it. I say little, but all wildlife appears much bigger to me. It's a disease. I exaggerate size when it comes to things that scare me.
Anyway, this little, 12 foot tall Raccoon just continued to ignore them, happy to rummage round in the mud of the lake shore. Defeated, the two photographers slowly walked away, dragging their oh so heavy cameras behind them. Once they had left, (A) removed from her pocket a small bag of nuts, goodness, and woodland that she had been carrying around with her. I asked her why she was carrying that? She said it was incase of squirrel attacks. If a nasty group of the little nutters ever went for us, she would through the bag of nuts, goodness and woodland towards me, while she made off in the opposite direction (to get help).
(Help for me).
(Help to find whatever the squirrels leave of my corpse quicker).
I kid!
(A) loves me and would never leave me during a squirrel attack. She had just carried those nuts, goodness and woodland that day incase we found some wildlife to feed. And we had. A lovely, adorable, tiny, 20 foot tall Raccoon.
As soon as he/she (let's not be gender specific here) heard the little packet rustle, he/she started to make his/her way over to us. I have never seen a Raccoon before. Although my fear of wildlife was well and truly kicking in, this tiny little grey and black guy/gal was ADORABLE. He/she had these tiny little black fingers that he used to feel around and pick up the N.G.W with. He was really brave and seemed to have no fear of us. Which was good, because I was pretty scared of him. If it came down to it, he could take me. I know he could. Just as long as HE didn't know that.
Oh crap!
When did he become a HE?
*le sigh*
Anyway, he/she was totally lovable and gentle. The N.G.W seemed to attract all sorts of wildlife, with (A) getting the chance to do her Disney Princess (tm) bit, with a little bird eating out of her hand. It was a very Aww kind of moment.
The guy/gal loved the food and took away some of my fear of wild animals by, once he had finished his N.G.W, leaving us without tearing my face off and returning back to his home.
Aww.
It was a lovely moment and I really enjoyed meeting my first Raccoon.
Aww.
Dun-dun-DUUUUUUUUUUUN!
I'm not normally good with animals. Infact, ask my friends, and they'll happily tell you how I'm not much good with anything. Since arriving in Vancouver, I have seen oodles of seagulls and crows. Crows are everywhere in Vancouver. How they haven't ended up running the place, is beyond me? Anyway, I don't "fear" animals and insects (except spiders and horses!!!), but I just don't like to mix with them if I can avoid it. Most of the time, my imagination takes over and I fear the worst when it comes to wildlife (SPIDERHORSES!!! EEK!).
But I AM fully insured, so it's not a huge deal if a bear rips my arm off and uses it to beat my screaming head in.
See what I mean? I always go over the top.
I'm sure bears are calm, gentle creatures. And I'm sure they're more scared of me than I am of them? But I can't get the idea out of my head that the bears are lining up to attack me, with a baseball bat that has a black widow spider taped to the side of it. I'm stupid and my own worst enemy sometimes.
Anyway, we stopped to nibble on snacky goodness by a lake, when (A) noticed a Raccoon that was being papped by a couple of tourists. Tourists that had cameras with lenses that were far too healthy to carry around. They were calling and cooing at this Raccoon, trying to get it to look round, vogue, work it, etc, but the little thing was having none of it. I say little, but all wildlife appears much bigger to me. It's a disease. I exaggerate size when it comes to things that scare me.
Anyway, this little, 12 foot tall Raccoon just continued to ignore them, happy to rummage round in the mud of the lake shore. Defeated, the two photographers slowly walked away, dragging their oh so heavy cameras behind them. Once they had left, (A) removed from her pocket a small bag of nuts, goodness, and woodland that she had been carrying around with her. I asked her why she was carrying that? She said it was incase of squirrel attacks. If a nasty group of the little nutters ever went for us, she would through the bag of nuts, goodness and woodland towards me, while she made off in the opposite direction (to get help).
(Help for me).
(Help to find whatever the squirrels leave of my corpse quicker).
I kid!
(A) loves me and would never leave me during a squirrel attack. She had just carried those nuts, goodness and woodland that day incase we found some wildlife to feed. And we had. A lovely, adorable, tiny, 20 foot tall Raccoon.
As soon as he/she (let's not be gender specific here) heard the little packet rustle, he/she started to make his/her way over to us. I have never seen a Raccoon before. Although my fear of wildlife was well and truly kicking in, this tiny little grey and black guy/gal was ADORABLE. He/she had these tiny little black fingers that he used to feel around and pick up the N.G.W with. He was really brave and seemed to have no fear of us. Which was good, because I was pretty scared of him. If it came down to it, he could take me. I know he could. Just as long as HE didn't know that.
Oh crap!
When did he become a HE?
*le sigh*
Anyway, he/she was totally lovable and gentle. The N.G.W seemed to attract all sorts of wildlife, with (A) getting the chance to do her Disney Princess (tm) bit, with a little bird eating out of her hand. It was a very Aww kind of moment.
The guy/gal loved the food and took away some of my fear of wild animals by, once he had finished his N.G.W, leaving us without tearing my face off and returning back to his home.
Aww.
It was a lovely moment and I really enjoyed meeting my first Raccoon.
Aww.
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