The Anti-Crevasse

August 25, 2009

The following is based on true events…

It started off relatively innocuously. Curled up in the foetal position, sweaty, in my bed, crying. My normal 2am activity was off to a roaring start.
The roarings of a grown man who’s been crying for a good 22 years.

Then the sounds start. Scratching, munching, pattering. The soundtrack of a violent uprising of …small, animal things. Or something.

I don’t have time for convoluted metaphors, evil is afoot! Afoot above my head! I jump out bed, foetus forgotten, sweat all the smellier.

Smite is on my mind, trickling down my chest and gathering in my boxers, making the elastic uncomfortable. I shed them off. Evil shall witness my true glory.

Looking for a more effective weapon, I grab the glass of water from my bedside and strap my guitar to my naked form. If it’s not a fictional wicked witch, then Tenacious D has decreed that I can master it with my rock.

My ROCK, I said.

Trembling, and rubbing my tear stained eyeballs, I open up the attic-stairs-pull out thing (what’s it called if it’s not a Stira?).

Attic

Hoovers are vacuum Cleaners, but what’s this? Enlighten me, Internet.

The sounds cease.

I stop.

Listen.

Look.

My bare foot places itself on the first rung (…Stair? Honestly, what is this thing?) and the force of righteousness that has taken over my body ascends me upwards.
Approaching the top rung, I peek into the anti-crevasse (that is, a crevasse that goes upwards). Fear overwhelms me. I must move quickly, before this sweaty vessel slips and falls a dizzying six feet to the carpeted floor below.

I climb into the anti-crevasse (that is, the attic) and look around. No sound.

No sights.

Empty, far reaching blackness. The blackness of evil.

I sweat a little bit more, yet somehow am very, very cold.

*Crack*

WAAAAHH!!!

I throw the water at the ghostly visage in front of me and then wrestle it to the ground. It is as I feared. The Glorcks have risen again, and wish to spread havoc in that unknowable space above us. The space beyond.

The anti Crevasse of our souls.

(The attic)

The force of righteousness flees my body quite quickly.

No doubt angered by my water throwing antics, it kicks at me and I stumble. Flailing wildly, I fall to the floor.

My guitar clangs and I remember! I can fight it through the medium of song!

As leap to my feet I swing my guitar around, it looks at me quizzically. In fear no doubt.

It takes a few 360 degree swings before I manage to catch it (I’m really sweaty right now) so while I rotate my hips (quite sexily, I add), I try to decide what song could rock it back from whence it came.
I settle for Master of Puppets.

It laughs at my feeble playing as I stumble through the opening riff.

“Wai- I haven’t played this in like – 3 years or so. And I’m really, really sweaty!”

I try to hash out some Zeppelin, but once again, my hands fail me.

It moves towards me.

Fumbling like a newborn with a bra strap, my fingers form chords that don’t exist and play notes that St. Patrick would of cast out of Ireland. So, my brain resembling some sort of foot hair, I panic.
I swing the guitar at the Golock (what am I calling it again?) and it hisses at me. I swing again and it hisses some more. I walk towards it, swinging…

Holy shit, I’m still naked. Why the hell am I naked? It wasn’t that uncomfortable, to be honest. I don’t know why I took them off.

I drop the guitar to cover myself, and then fling myself down the foldy stairs; embarrassment coating me like sweat. Over all the actual sweat. I close the stairs in a panic and flee to my bed.

The next day, wearing pants and caked in a film of deodorant, I summon the courage to check it out under the cold, harsh light of mid-afternoon.

I enter the above world and peer on the still form that breaths in front of me.

Ouh, it was just John Candy along.

———–
The above story’s basis in reality is equal if not greater then that of Cool Runnings.


RTE have done it again: Awesome.

August 10, 2009

YESSSSS!!!!! FUCK. YES!

UGGGGG, YEAH, FUCKING-A!!!!

RTE, charity, reality, FUCKING FAMOUS PEOPLE!!!! YES!!!!

OUH! BABY!

I am honestly excited. Why? Because, my sources (Me and Ryan still keep in touch), and some elbow grease on my part (Mooney loved every second of it) and I have managed to watch the first episode of the new RTE Reality Show that-is-also-some-charity-thing, Lords of the Ring1.

Which entails: guess what? It actually gets 10 people that we know (and love!) and puts them in a boxing ring.

And holy shit,… I don’t want to give anything away. But…

Holy shit, Joe O’Shea actually kills a dude.

Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t of told you that. But my God. He actually punches a guy so hard, his ribs collapse and he’s like, shitting blood on the mat. It’s disgusting, but probably the most metal thing I have ever seen. And then he grabs the camera, and says, “RTE, this is what you get for replacing me with some chick’s fucking sister.”

HELL YES! He actually just tosses the F-bomb out like that, and just walks off, like he didn’t just punch a guy so hard his legs snapped off. He then drink drives his way home.

Honestly, the legs are still there, standing on the mat. Steaming.

But that’s not the best part.

The best part, the really best part, is that Lee Sharpe is in it.

MASTER!

The Football Master!

TITMUSS!

The Invisible Man!

ILLNESS!

Loves Meningitis!

Fuck. Yes.

1 This also involved a small amount of time travel


Quit wasting time ‘solving’ the problem, and ingenu me a workaround

August 3, 2009

Maybe I dreamed it all. Maybe, all those years ago, it was mud that we rolled in, frogs that we found in our hair and ducks chased us home after it all. We made boats instead of Go-Karts and we put on cream so we didn’t get burned by the fireplace.

What brought this on? Maybe the fact that it’s so wet that a few days ago, a bird (either because a narrowly missed rain induced suicide attempt or the wet made him so slick he lost all avionics) flew through my narrowly opened window, into my room, and went apeshit between my window and curtains for 2 hours.

This weather is getting is starting to get me down.

Meh, rain, hail, and shit, all very well, Global Warming will kill us all, we get it. Carbon tax, yup, great stuff. Global warming, the old adage; ‘But, uh, like, they why isn’t it, like, yeah, like, warmer, and stuff?’
Right, we know why.

Well, we don’t, but we know that global warmth equals sunless sky (or something).
But some people don’t understand the basics; they’re idiots, but I believe the problem is that half the world is seeping with idiotdom, and there’s not much we can do about that.

The argument that it’s caused by me burning turf, Barbies, money: fine, whatever. The argument that it’s caused by the natural cycles the Earth has been going through for millennia: woopy do, good for you. I don’t care.

What I do care about is the fact that I’m wearing a jumper and trousers in August.
What.
The.
Fuck?

Maximum I should be wearing is pants.

What we can do, is make them to get their asses in gear, and invent something that will warm me the fuck up while outside. Burn the rain, explodify the clouds and make the sun shine while my invisible skin paste simultaneously tans me and freezes cancer beams.

And by ‘they’ I mean you scientist people, with your tubes and Bunsen’s and poor cancerous lab rats running those mazes. And your cleverness.

Mostly your cleverness.

Come on people, get on it.

Fuck it, my TV is clear enough, I can make out eyeball cells for shit’s sake, that will do! There is no need to look any further into this field of invention. We are done here. The same goes for how many gigabytes I can store on my email account. Six is fine thanks (two was fine for shit’s sake), stop wasting your time making servers more efficient and invent me some damn sun revealing laser bazookas.

Shit’s sake.

Christ eating watermelons, the graphics in Gears of War are fine! There is no need to waste our clever people on this any longer! I’ll play pong with 7 inch thick lenses on if it’s sunny.

scientist

Not Pictured: Anything useful happening

How many people with above average intelligence are we wasting doing shit that is already perfectly acceptable? Yes, by all means, improve that baby death prevention drug, or whatever, but this shaving cream is fine thanks. I can put up with a little razor burn if I can go outside poncholess.

And could we stop all the reports into how its definitely getting warmer?

(What? The earth is heating up? Where do you get this information? 2007? THAT’S NOT RECENT ENOUGH!!!)

We know it’s getting warmer, and I’m pretty sure we have enough data to work with right now. Can’t we just invent something that turns dark clouds into light clouds using the most recent figures? Then we can just add some more molecule suspension fluid or whatever to make it work now. Throw some extra nanobots into the formula. And stuff.

How much time do we have to waste before you fix this? And I’m not talking about stopping Global Warming, just invent something so it doesn’t affect me any more.
Unless it’s, like, really easy to stop Global Warming. Then you should do that.

Come on people, let’s dump the Global Warming arguing over what does what bullshit and start the ‘Global We’re All Fucked Unless You Invent Something To Fix This Warming’ Movement. We need to get those clever people off the Persil ‘How Can We Make Them Even Cleaner’ sub committee and onto the Hailstone Prevention Grenade assembly line.

Cos till then we’re stuck inside watching pixel perfect Exposé.