Feedback Friday :: Swelling A Progress

bulk :: 16st 0
cigarettes :: 0
joints:: 0
alcohol units:: 9
swims :: 1
chiropractic visits :: 1
doctor visits :: 1 registration check-up (weigh-in) and 1 proper visit in about an hour
booty calls :: 1
soups made :: 2
fancies tickled :: 1
novels started :: 1 (It's about meeting people on the internet. I am destined to get no further than chapter one.)

Not a bad week all in all. Some ups, some downs.

Mustn’t grumble.

Now, like most bloggers who don’t particularly care for memes, but occasionally submit to ones which tickle their fancy, I feel compelled to begin this post by pointing out that I don’t particularly care for memes, but this one rather tickled my fancy. It consists essentially of 40 unfinished sentences, and I caught up with it here. The main reason it tickled my fancy was because the first sentence began, ‘My uncle once…’ and it reminded me of… well, here it is:

1. My uncle once: undid his zip and pulled out his cock for a drunken group photo with his friends. After he died I found this photograph amongst his possessions and, being fascinated with penis size and fearing myself abnormally small, tore out my uncle’s penis and took it away for private study. My mum later found my dead uncle’s penis in the back pocket of my jeans. She left it on the kitchen table. I snatched it up and took it to my bedroom. In order to properly destroy the evidence of my weirdness, I ended up chewing it up and swallowing it. Conversely, these days I feel no shame.

2. Never in my life: have I fucked an oversized goat.

3. When I was five: I put my head through the bathroom window deliberately and with self-harm aforethought. (Yes, the bathroom window was closed at the time.) (I was mostly unharmed by the glass, but my dad gave me a taste of his belt for the damage.) (Thus causing more damage.) (Silly dad.)

4. High school was: something that happened in America. Still is, I believe, although from what I hear, it ain’t very good. High school kids spend all their time pushing silver dollars into Coca Cola vending machines and learning how evolution is bunkum from text books sponsored by M&Ms. Or so I hear.

5. I will never forget: but hopefully in time I will learn to forgive.

6. Once I met: David Blunkett. I felt strangely comfortable in his presence, but I couldn’t help rolling my eyes when he talked.

7. There’s this girl I know: who made me promise not to fall in love with her. She obviously has an ego the size of Alaska. (And a muff to match.)

8. Once, at a bar: I used a really cheesy line on a really beautiful woman because I was drunk and my best friend dared me, and do you know what she did? I’ll tell you. She pushed out her bottom lip as far as she could with her tongue, opened her eyes really wide and made a long, nonsensical, deep-throated grunting noise, like someone attempting to speak with six fists in their mouth. I believe this is called ‘belming’. I thanked her for her time and returned to my friend, blushing fiercely and wishing quite sincerely that I had never been born.

9. By noon, I’m usually: three socks in. Damn you, YouPorn! (Actually, that’s not true these days. I’m actually four days without YouPorn at the moment. I’m thinking of getting a little counter for my blog, like some towns in Belgium have, but of course in Belgium they read: ‘17 days without a child sex crime’. Mine would read: ‘4 days without soiling a sock whilst watching YouPorn’. And I would feel proud.)

10. Last night: …oh yeah, dammit. More like 6 hours without YouPorn.

11. If only I had: a girlfriend. Everything would be alright.

12. Next time I go to church: presuming I go some time this year, it will be to say, ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been approximately 17 years since my last confession.’ I will prepare an exhaustive list before I go.

13. What worries me most: is failure. And – at the moment at least – stomach cancer.

14. When I turn my head left I see: a cushion where Pablo used to sit and a whole lot of magazines which my flatmate has been trying to get me to throw away. He can fuck off.

15. When I turn my head right I see: an open window, leading to a dirty windowsill, where sits an ashtray which hasn’t been used for a few weeks now. It makes me want to get wrecked.

16. You know I’m lying when: I tell you I honestly couldn’t care less.

17. What I miss most about the Eighties is: watching some of my favourite films for the first time, and learning how to properly escape from reality.

18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be: an attendant lord, one that will do to swell a progress, start a scene or two, advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, deferential, glad to be of use, politic, cautious, and meticulous; full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; at times, indeed, almost ridiculous – almost, at times, the Fool.

19. By this time next year: I hope to be fitter, happier, more productive.

20. A better name for me would be: Walter. I’ve been told I look like a Walter.

21. I have a hard time understanding: Full stop. That sentence is already finished. I do.

22. If I ever go back to school, I’ll: be in grave danger of falling foul of the Prevention of Terrorism Act.

23. You know I like you if: I’m sucking peanut butter out of your anus.

24. If I ever won an award, the first person I would thank would be: Halle Berry.

25. Take my advice, never: stimulate your genitals when you’ve been chopping chillies.

26. My ideal breakfast is: smoked salmon Benedict followed by mango and coconut yoghurt.

27. A song I love but do not have is: I Want To Go Back There Again by BJ Arnau. I had this when I was a kid. It used to belong to my uncle, the dead one with the penis, and I owned the vinyl version for a while and regularly wept to it throughout my teens. Then somewhere along the line, I lost it. I want it back. Indeed, I want to go back there again.

28. If you visit my hometown, I suggest you: BURN IT DOWN.

29. Why won’t people: be just a little less self-centred? Me included.

30. If you spend a night at my house: and happen to be a lovely, bouncy woman, please remember to sneak into my bed in the wee small hours and massage the length of my Johnson with your tongue.

31. I’d stop my wedding for: spontaneous sex with my bride-to-be, then we’d get back to the ceremony and live happily ever after.

32. The world could do without: Keira Knightley’s pout.

33. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: the anus of a cockroach; but I'd rather lick the anus of a cockroach than ever have to look again at Keira Knightley’s pout.

34. My favourite blonde is: Paris Hilton, but only if she’s shaved and stripped of make-up and money, sitting behind the till in a branch of Netto in Peckham, where she belongs.

35. Paper clips are more useful than: Paris Hilton.

36. If I do anything well it’s: self-deprecate. Sorry, that was a rubbish answer.

37. I can’t help but: worry that I’m never going to be given the chance – or ever going to have balls big enough to take the chance – to fulfil any of the potential that I may actually have.

38. I usually cry: at the end of Donnie Darko, particularly the very last shot, when Gretchen and the little boy wave to Mrs Darko. It’s the little boy’s wave that does it. It sings to me of the preciousness of human contact.

39. My advice to my child/nephew/niece: is this: don’t let what other people think stand in your way, and always challenge authority.

40. And by the way: being is other people.



Have a super weekend.

Everybody’s Free (To Wear A Paper Bag)

I’ve been practising thinking positive, because I’ve been told that it helps, that it makes life easier. So, to stop twitching with misery and shouting out, Tourette’s style, in embarrassment as I remember, amongst other things, the rather desperate, pathetic email I sent Patricia a couple of hours before I found Keith’s blog, I scribbled down a couple of lexical amulets to help me remain upbeat and optimistic. And then I got to thinking, hey, I could actually help others with this stuff. Because helping others is what I’m all about. So I started writing a kind of a manifesto for ugly people and other losers. Then I remembered The Sunscreen Song and thought I’d try and blatantly rip it off. I ended up staying up late and writing the following. It wasn’t till after I was done that I realised it was Easter Monday and like Christ, I had risen again and come back to save mankind. Praise me…

Everybody’s Free (To Wear A Paper Bag)

Ugly ladies and gentlemen of the internet… wear a paper bag over your head.

If I could offer you one tip for overcoming overwhelming feelings of ugliness, that might as well be it.

The long term benefits of wearing a paper bag are open to question, but in the short term they’re great at replacing the shame of a hideous face with the embarrassment of wearing a bag. It’s a trade-off. Still, this tip, along with the rest of my advice, should probably be taken with a hefty pinch of salt.

I will dispense the rest of this advice now.

Remember at all times that physical beauty really is only skin deep and that even though Enrique Iglesias has moist women queuing up to fellate him, he is famously, unconscionably dull. If this makes you feel better, hang onto it for all you’re worth, and don’t give a second thought to George Clooney, who not only is better looking than half a dozen Enriques, but is also a scintillating conversationalist.

Think beautiful thoughts. While you’re about it, buy beautiful things, listen to beautiful music and read beautiful words in the not necessarily entirely vain hope that some of this beauty will rub off on you.

Read. The more you’ve got going on inside you, the less you need to worry about the car crash that is your physical appearance.

Practise your comebacks for when the cruel barbs fly. Perfect them in front of a mirror. ‘Madam, I may be ugly, but I am also stupid and very bad in bed. Oh.’ That sort of thing. Be careful however, not to self-deprecate to the point of self-loathing.

When the barbs do come, try hard to laugh them off; let them bounce off you without causing damage. Don’t be overly sensitive, and don’t be too hard on yourself if you are.

Don’t be afraid of mirrors. While they may not exactly be your friend, they are a reminder that you’re bold enough to face who you are, and to love yourself.

Love yourself. Wear your ugliness like a badge of honour. Remind yourself that any old imbecile can be pretty but it takes real character to carry off a look like yours.

Rejoice in the fact that when people do like you, they really do like you. They’re not just trying to get into your pants because you look good, and they’re not with you for the cachet your company brings.

Avoid people who want to make themselves look good by surrounding themselves with freaks.

Surround yourself with freaks. (If this simply not possible, forget about it. It wasn’t the best piece of advice in the world in the first place.)

Accentuate the positive. If there’s really nothing in your appearance to be remotely positive about, accentuate the negative.

You’re only as ugly as you feel.

Don’t be intimidated by superficial fuckwits who cannot offer the world anything more than a camera-ready smile and a pig-ugly soul. You are better than they are. Just not as good-looking.

If you happen to be as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside, you probably need more help than I can give you here.

Floss. Good teeth mask a myriad of sins. If you don’t have good teeth, get some.

Work on your body. God may have given you a baboon’s behind for a face, but there really is no excuse for being fat. Besides which, your body is your temple. Worship.

If you do believe in God, remember that He loves you. If on the other hand you have sanity on your side, thank God you’re only ugly.

Dancercise. If you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room, well, that’s probably a good thing.

Remember that there are five senses and being ugly marks you down on just one. So make sure you concentrate on the others: smell good, sound good, practise sensitive tactility and sprinkle a little cinnamon on your genitalia every day, just in case you get lucky.

Wash. Good hygiene counts for so much in this world. If you really need to be told this at your time of life, there may already be no hope for you.

There is ALWAYS hope.

Embrace metrosexuality. Pamper yourself with oils, powders and unctions. Moisturise daily. If your skin is soft, supple and touchable, chances are someone somewhere will want to touch it.

Wear good clothes. The expression ‘You can’t polish a turd’ is a vicious, pernicious lie. You most certainly can polish a turd. Indeed, it is your duty as a human turd to polish yourself daily, and a fine wardrobe is some of the best turd-polish money can buy.


Smile. Even if you have a mouth like a block of blue cheese, smile like you really mean it. The whole world may not smile with you, but the best people will.

You are NOT as ugly as you imagine. Are you? Actually maybe you are. If you are, then really, the dancercising, flossing and good clothes will help. But if you’re genuinely not, you may actually have Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Look into it.

You are NOT as Body Dysmorphic as you imagine. You’re just fat. Eat less. Dancercise.

Wear a hat. Hats are the icing on the cake, the fairy on top of the Christmas tree, the fan of glorious feathers that turns the fat ugly peabird into a glorious cock. A good hat can be like sunshine above the clouds; a beautiful day atop the miserable blanket of smog that is your face. A hat can be the ultimate signifier of dignity. Remember, without that hat and those snazzy threads, Humphrey Bogart was just another ugly bugger in ill-fitting dentures, waving a gun about and grimacing like a gargoyle.

Avoid corrective surgery like the plague that it is. Don’t go under the knife unless you absolutely have to, or else part of you will always regret the other parts of you that you threw away.

Pleasure yourself intensely.

Use pornography if you feel the need, and use it shamelessly, but don’t let it get a hold on you.

If possible, sleep with people less attractive that you are. Both sides can only benefit from the union.

If possible, sleep with people more attractive that you are. Both sides can only benefit from the union.

When you mess up, when you embarrass yourself or just stutter or dry up because you’re too nervous, don’t beat yourself up over it. Other people forget quickly; they have their own stuff to think about. Also, the best way to help them forget your humiliations is to do something magnificent.

In the words of Ian Dury, be magnificent. Dury was crippled with polio but was so magnificently charismatic that many people tended not to notice.

Do not blame other people, even if you feel they might actually be to blame. You really are the master of your own destiny.

Do not hate yourself. I know that’s often much easier said that done, but keep it close to you at all times, and always believe it. It’s incredibly important.

Kindness lurks in the most unexpected of places. When kindness creeps up on you and takes you by surprise, allow it to reaffirm your faith in humanity.

Have faith in humanity, because faith in humanity is faith in yourself.

Be careful whose advice you buy, and be very suspicious of those who supply it. There are a lot of cynical heartless people out there whose sole aim in life is to exploit your insecurity.

Oh, and take that paper bag off your head.

You look ridiculous.