Less Is More v1.6

Oh look! Its Guest Updater Day! Today, boys and girls, we have the redoubtable (is that a real word?) SuperMarct updating for us! Let's all give him a round of applause...

Firstly to introduce myself: I’m Super, a lazy Dutchie who studies communication sciences. I’m a little guy who drinks too much beer and other exotic alcoholic drinks, and complains about everything and annoys everyone. To go a bit further, my mouth is bigger than Oprah Winfrey’s ass (Am I allowed to say ass?) (You are on my damn blog! Chyld), which gets me into a lot of problems. But I do gain some respect with it too (read the anecdote).

Now you know me, go ahead and hate me. Like I do.

Normally I write about things that annoy me or things the voices in my head tell me to share with the real world, but for now, I decided to tell you an anecdote.

For a half year ago my sister lived in London where she worked at a fancy hotel. The exploit I am, I decided to visit my sis. Getting myself a plane ticket I went to the Foggy Island to wreck the city that got more inhabitants than our pathetic little, but oh so cool country. When I arrived at my sister’s crib, I heard she went to a party at her work.

“Want to come with me?”

“Name me one reason to go.”

“Because you can accompany me.”

“Sorry… Name me one good reason…”

“There is free booze.”

“Wait, I’ll get my coat.”

It all turned out to be an award show. There were all kind of stupid awards to win. Then my eye fell on the award “Best Newcomer Male”. I hadn’t been here ever, so I figured I had the best chances to win this award. I met a guy, Daryl, there and we drank by far the most and a few hours before the show started we were both drunk and everyone was annoyed by us. Of course we decided to have some more drinks and annoy the people who entered the party a bit too late.

We had fun, and time flies while you having fun and so I forgot about all the awards. Of course my sister was embarrassed by my shouting and all the bad jokes I made at the expense of her colleagues. That’s why she decided to teach me a lesson and nominated me for the category “Best Newcomer Male”. The story wouldn’t be fun if I didn’t win this award, so… That’s right! I won the award.

So, in other words, Super, completely wasted because of all the exotic drinks and without any preparation, needed to give a speech in his not-native tongue (Sounds a bit like me at my 18th... Chyld). Obviously, no one had a clue where I was talking about, including myself. But I did get the precious statue, and that’s what counts. Unfortunately I lost it in the Underground on the way back, so if you find the award “Best Newcomer Male” of the Euston Plaza Hotel in London, or you see a homeless guy with the statue mentioned above, go get it and send the precious to me.

Oh, I forgot, all stories have a morale… So, what did we learn today? Indeed, alcohol is good! (Amen! Chyld)

Well that's all we have time for this week. Tune in on Monday, and I might tell you how to make nuclear weapons out of common household items. You wish...

Right, I wrote this in Media Studies earlier, and it seems like a good update. So that's what it is. Enjoy.

Just for giggles, I'm going to take twenty minutes and just write about what I'm doing right now

I'm in the room I do English and Media Studies in. Only four people are in here, me included. We're supposed to be doing essays, and only one of us is. Not me. Obviously.

I'm here, with my laptop (obviously means work!) listening to the Offsprings Conspiracy of One. Damn good album, I think. Its playing "Vultures", I believe.

To my immediate right is Amyjay, now pretending to work because the teacher has re-entered. Previously, she was reading over my shoulder, since Chyld with a copy of Notepad open always means "updates!"

To my further right is Her. I don't need any more introduction, read yesterday's update you useless git. She's making like Amyjay, only she's never actually seen my blog (probably a good thing, maybe a bad thing...), and neither is she being hit on my any of my guest updaters.

Opposite side of the room is a girl unmentioned before in this stage of the Internet, and probably unmentioned since.

At the front is the teacher, who decided to come in five minutes ago. No one knows or cares what he's doing.

Until ten minutes ago, I was trying to eat an entire sheet of paper. Neither of the women to my right could decide who got it, so I took the simple option. Eat it. And there's nothing wrong with that. I couldn't manage it in one, however, so binwards it went.

On my return, the womenfolk moaned at my trousers being, oh-so-slightly too low. Everyone complains about my trousers, and I'm sure it's a conspiracy. Everyone in the school vs. my trousers. They're American, so naturally they're too big where they should be small (waist) and too small where they should be too big (ankles. I like my tent-like trousers, thank you!)

Halfway through that paragraph, Conspiracy of One stopped. It was playing quietly on headphones for a while, ended up being loud on headphones when the women finally stopped bitching about other women, and went onto loud from speakers when it turned out other people wanted to listen. Now its all supposed to be quiet, I'm whacking "Roots" on quietly. Classic metal album, that.

Now I'm quite free to concentrate on being hung-over. After a form. About 24 hours ago, I was stoned off of my face. It was a good joint, well-packed and long, but quite 'baccy heavy. Nobody knew what was wrong with me. He isn't giggling, he can't be stoned! Nobody mentioned that just as drink affects people in different ways, so cannabis does too. But now, it has passed, and my head is made of cotten wool.

Right, I've got five minutes before lunch time. I'll probably spend it the same as I'm spending it now, glued to the laptop, with some harsh metal sound track on in the headphones. Maybe not, though, as only 21% power remains and I have no charger. That sucks, because humanity sucks. If I speak, I will be ignored, ridiculed, or made to feel small. Maybe all at the same time.

Amyjay seems quite oblivious to the bleeding heart next to her. Having had all three barrels from Her earlier, I don't blame. The fact she's actually working while I'm writing bollocks might also contribute.

Three minutes left, and there's nothing else to write about. I made about five spelling misatakes in that sentence, and just made another three. Right, time to give up while the going's good.

Hmm, seems a good update. Going up tonight instead of a prose on Reading Festival...

Join us again tomorrow, when SuperMarct writes about being drunk.

Last thing: I really need a woman. As if my undersexed rantings yesterday didn't give it away...

It always seems fairly obvious that every blog will end up chatting about love, and Less Is More refuses to be an exception.

Everyone here should know at least this part of my psyche. Half of you will be people I know in RL, and will have seen me spectacularly fail with up to three or four different women. The other half will be people from Black Orc I speak to, even occasionally, on MSN, so I will have rattled on about one girl in particular, even if not by name.

Basically, my family is not very lucky in love. I'm in no position to comment on my parents, as I wasn't alive enough to observe, but something must have happened, because I'm here typing this rubbish instead of being sperm in a hanky. Little Brother is nine, and more concerned about little pieces of card with Japanese monsters on than women. Big Brother, comically enough, also hordes little pieces of card with Japanese monsters on them, and many other such stupid things, and he wonders why women, sober and sane, won't touch him.

And me? I'm just spectacularly unlucky.

Despite frequent suggestions to the opposite, enough women have told me I'm good enough looking for me to believe it. Indeed, there's far uglier blokes everywhere. And I've got a sense of humour, black, deranged or otherwise. I can't see any massive problems with me. Besides being mad as a hatter. Or having what could be described as a speech impediment, or just not being arsed to talk the same as everyone else. Or actually having a drug fixation. But the last one is only a really recent thing, as it hasn't affected any women I've been out with before.

Lets have a look at my potted history, shall we? If I gave a full rendition, we could streach it over three well-packed updates.

So, discounting a girl I went out with in Year 7, which doesn't really count, this is a summery of my relationships.

1.) March 2002 - One Week

Ah, practically pre-history in Chyld's books. I hadn't even touched cannabis by this point, and I'd only started drinking the Christmas before. CompleteAnarchy wasn't too far different in these respects, but there was a girl he liked. And naturally, as you do, he dragged me along to meet her. And (so I thought) her rather fine friend. The word "breasts" dominated the conversation for a while after.

She liked me, and I liked her, and somehow we became an item. A rather short-lived item. She dumped me as soon as she met the rest of my crew. Oh dear.

2a.) June 2002 - One Week Five Days

This was, I thought, It. The Big One. You only find a girl like her once every million years. You all know who I'm talking about, if not by name. And it didn't help that throughout the writing on that paragraph, she was right next to me reading it.

We had had our Year 11 Prom the day before, and somehow, I had mustered the nerve to ask her to be my date. Actually, I think that more resulted in everyone going "Ask her!" within earshot of her. But the important thing is that it had all been perfect. I think.

She texted me to ask me out - and I was asleep at the time. Oh go me! She told me things I'm sworn not to tell, and thus won't even hint at. But "it wasn't working". Women and their excuses. Like finding snow in an avalanche. But that wasn't the end. Oh no.

3.) August 2002 - Two Weeks

Later that summer, I me up with an old friend. Or a rather younger than me friend, depending on how you look at it. I was under the impression I was just going to keep her company. And this was what happened. She told me to text her when she got dragged away to a friends Bible Camp. I did, because we were friends. Then when I did, she told me she wanted to take my virginity and buggered up the rest of my year.

We became an item the same day. I waited a week until she returned, we met up, and I'll spare you the gory details because I'm eating lunch in half an hour and I want to keep it down.

Ironically, she thought the same thing and ignored me for three days. Then bothered to dump me. But that wasn't it. What happened leaked, and BOY the rumours were damning...

2b.) November 2002 to January 2003 - One Month Three Weeks

Note the numbering...

I was drowning under the weight of rumours, and I was suffering. Close-mindedness really sucks. In the end, I declared that Love Was Dead, and I Had Killed It. She asked me what I meant, and having filled three sides of paper on the subject. Which could have been condensed to "I Still Love You". Her response was lukewarm, so I despaired.

I had met another girl at this point, and one afternoon around the point in time, I was asked "Would you go out with her?" To which I replied "Yes." Keep noting the numbering.

Once again, I was hosting a party. I was actually going to ask this girl out; this was the point of the party. And guess what? Go on. We're talking about women here.

Yes. She told me she still loved me.

Why, oh why, can't they spring this sort of thing on me when it's easy? Choice is something I can't deal with.

In the end, Option Number Two was discarded, and She was mine. Again.

I look on this time as a Golden Age in my time. I can't actually explain how perfect I found/find her, as the "life sux!!!!!11" detector is already going haywire.

But, of course it didn't last. Nothing good lasts (cue exploding "life sux!!!!!!11" detector) Straight after a Media Studies exam, which I had spent carving "I Luv ## 4Eva" on a table. Broke my heart and ruined a good table. Typical, that.

Since then its been a haze of cannabis, stolen hugs, and random kisses. I'm still seeking 2c.), and I should move on (lol, as they say), but for now, I've got updates to write, green to smoke, and a thick layer of "Emoness" to scrape off my poor keyboard.

Only one day, and we've already got two people who've given me draft guest updates, and a few people who've expressed an interest. Looks like I've got a regular day to actually "revise" for exams I only want to pass to leave home... but anyway. This Friday, you'll either be hearing about drunken antics from SuperMarct, or hateful missives from Jonny Napalm.

So, amusing stoner stories.

My main man, best mate and skunk dealer (labelled CompleteAnarchy, because it'd make a good name on the forum), upon learning that I've started a website, suggested I write about amusing stories of me, him, and indeed us, doing funny things while being stoned. He proceeded to reel off one such story, but since I was mashed at the time, he could have told me the meaning of life and I would have completly missed it.

The problem with putting up stoner stories, is tha they always work best in conext. The tale about how I once ended up hallucinating about angels and the burning crucified has already done its rounds here, yet few people actually believe that what I was smoking was that potent.

So, just to test the waters, here is a rendition of the last time I went out and got properly wasted. Watch as the tone of the website begins to lower in advance of Friday...

Every stoner crew has many places to enjoy their illegal narcotics. From talking to my man in Amsterdam, LochNESS, I know that the Dutch prefer seafront places. We here usually use woody areas. One spot near Tescos was where Chyld, CompleteAnarchy and Xeode (as the last MSN account I had for him told) congregated. It has a blatent view of two footpaths, but its out of the way, has plenty of space for kit, and is right next to a stream.

This trip, we decided to stick to bongs, mainly because CompleteAnarchy wanted to test his new bong. Which was basically a cleaner version of his last one. Which itself was merely a drinks bottle with a pen poking into the bottem. Nothing wrong with that, actually.

So, CompleteAnarchy distrubuted requested green (I ended up with a bud the size of my little finger), I prepared a mix (you need to mix green with tobacco, because a.) it burns easier b.) if you try smoking pure green, you die. Or bring up your dinner.

load bong flick flick burn suck suck hold breathe out repeat

Oh look! CompleteAnarchy brought up his dinner! This was quite funny by this point. However, by this point in the proceedings, everything is usually funny.

Having assured our paranoia that it was all clear (I am very paranoid; every other sound turns into a policeman), we went to Tescos for food. We encountered a pair of out non-stoner friends, who said hi, tried to make me giggle, succeeded, and left.

We then somehow crossed a road, and spent time in a field. Then we departed to Xeodes house to listen to extremly fast drum n' bass. By day, we are pure metalheads, but by night of green, everything sounds good.

At some point, I went home, and went to bed.

This is your typical stoning session. There are many more, funnier tales I can tell, about being trapped in graveyards, about being in lessons totally gone, and about my 18th. But I've chatted enough bollocks for the day. Why not go join the forum, (I've only plugged it twice today!) or go outside and enjoy the sun? There's none here at the moment, but you never know...

At the moment, I am sitting here over the remains of my lunch. And not an irreputable lunch either. On the off-chance you find some of what I eat funny, here is what lies ravaged by my belly:

-One chocolate frosting Frech bread sandwich
-Two crumpets
-One Cheestring (a sort of cheese-based item)
-One cereal bar
-One packet of crisps

See? With any luck, I'll have just listed my lunch, and gotten some poor sap into hysterics! For that one person, Wibble Puppies! Peebles! Wobble bottem!

Sorry about that. So, my lunch.

I have no idea how many calories are in my lunch, and do you know why? I haven't wasted my time checking. And neither do I intend to at any point between now and when I die. Because my life does not hinge on how many pounds I put on/off, how many calories I eat, etc. I'm 12 stone and content.

Admittedly, I have an anatomy that burns off food like dust in a nuclear furnace, while leaving me with a small pair of man-titties and an arse like two bowling balls. Queue up ladies! I'll bet you're all dying for a slice now!



But I could be a lot fatter, and I am not. Why is that? Well, apart from not eating McDonalds every day (weekly is bad enough), I do lots of walking. Whether to school, to a stoner gathering, to a party, or occasionly to the next town, the lack of a car prevents me from going "Oh bugger it, where's the keys?" like some lazy bastards I can't think of.

Where is this all headed? I don't damn well know. But I think I'm bitching about people fixated with their figure. I know so very many fine people who are soulless and evil people. And by the other hand, I know people who would be passed off as ugly, but are by and large the nicest people I know. It doesn't damn well matter what you look like!

Women are the worst for it. Stop being so insecure! We're not going to deplore you because your bum's a smidgen bit big in the mirror! Stop asking! We're more concerned by the (true) fact that you're going to get upset by any answer we'll give!

And the people on the Atkins diet: eating six tonnes of fat and no bread will not make you thin. Eat like a normal person, you freak.



And finally, the next person that writes me off because of how I dress will get their head kicked in. Anyone who does Media Studies with me will know who I'm talking about.

NON SPITEFUL NOTE: I'm already considering guest updates and we're barely a week into this. Ho hum, might fill space on Fridays. If you think you can write as wittily as me for about 500 words (No sequals to my serial killing update/cool tales of getting stoned/Chyld-mocking missives, I'll do them myself, thanks), e-mail a synopsis to me here, or actually talk to me, and I'll see what I can be arsed to do.

I was really struggling to find something to update with today. my initial reserves of ideas had dried up like a well in the desert. Praying I would come up with something within 12 hours, I woke up, and left to do my paper-round.

As I was walking along, I passed an Alfa Romeo garage. I looked at the logo, and saw this



The Great Update God had smiled on me.

Just what is going on there then? There's a giant snake monster eating someone. I'd just had a dream about having an acid trip from a lump of sugar while at work, and this snake was much scarier.

Surely your company logo says something about your company? What does this say about Alfa Romeo?

1.) Its a metaphor. We're such a big car company, we eat people alive.

2.) We eat the competition alive.

3.) Its literal. We have a giant snake that eats people.

4.) We have a giant snake that eats the competition alive.

Not a good impression to leave on the clientelle, really. Or maybe its a story about the founding of Alfa Romeo!

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there was a giant snake monster, that ravaged the towns, and ate the people. Sometimes sixteen at a time! Only the brave knights and their plate armour could stand up to it, but their swords could not pierce its scaly hide.

One day, two knights, Sir Alfa and Sir Romeo, were debating how to defeat the beast.

"We're not big enough to fight it!" declared Sir Romeo

But Sir Alfa had an idea. "Lets make a massive suit of armour on wheels!" he cried.

"It has to fit two fair wenches in the back!" added Sir Romeo.

"And be shiny!" bellowed Sir Alfa.

And so they built their great machine, and used it for picking up the wenches late at night. The giant snake continued its rampage, until it learned about the new "Alfa-Romeo machine", and asked for one itself.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Right, that's it for this week. I'm not updating for the weekend, so I'll return on Monday with more rubbish like this.

Finally, just to embaress her, and simply because we can't plaster it over the school, we're plastering it over the internet...

First off, we're all shouting big thanks to Myles for finding my laptop's CD player. The bastards cost £20 on eBay, and he found it under a chair. He seemed quite suprised when I gave him a whole joint just for finding a scrappy cable, but one mans random cable is another man's incredibly expensive and otherwise irreplacable cable thing.

Now, moving onto today's main attraction.

Recently, I have been disgusted by humanity. Why exactly this is, is more suitable for your average whiny "life suxx!!!!1" blog, but suffice to say, I have recently been half-seriously thinking about causing vast volumes to pain to many people.

However, vast volumes of pain isn't much to talk about. Blood and death are always good sellers, and it would be interesting to write an update about how best to kill everyone. Well, it beats talking about the weather.

So, Chylds Favourite Ways To Kill Everyone.

1.) Death By Chainsaw

Advantages:

-Nothing's really quite so much fun as ripping someone to shreds with a big noisy chainsaw.
-Its bloody, and therefore fun.
-They're (relativly) easy to get hold of.

Disadvantages:

-It's damn heavy
-People aren't generally inclined to be near enough a madman with a chainsaw long enough to meet the business end of it.
-They're quite dangerous. Obvious enough, but they put those "do not stop with hands or genitals" warnings there for a reason...

2.) Death by Shotgun

Advantages:
-You don't have to be standing right in front of your victim before they fall over and bleed.
-Slightly less unwieldy than a chainsaw.
-The Yanks seem to be able to get their hands on them easily enough (here we go with the America-baiting already...)

Disadvantages:
-Looks even more suspicious than a chainsaw.
-Can't take them on planes. Actually, that's quite debatable. You obviously can't take them on the plane anyway, but I'm referring to sticking them in your luggage. I wouldn't know, the laws might have changed since I tried it last week...
-High School Shooting? So 1999, DAH-ling!

3.) Death by Dynamite

Advantages:

-Quite capable of blowing up many people at once.
-You can do it from the safety of far, far away.
-Should you refuse that option, there's always taking lit dynamite and throwing it at people. And anyone who's ever played Blood (strike that; anyone that's ever heard of the game Blood) will know there's nothing more amusing than watching a zombie turn inside out when you throw a stick of dynamite at it. Now you can do it for real! Except without the zombies. Or the robed cultists. Or, in my case, the one-iners...

Moving on from semi-retro-game nostalgia...

Disadvantages:

-From afar, you can't see your victims writhe in pain. Or laugh as you write an update on killing everyone...
-And anyone who's ever played Blood, or in fact ever played with real dynamite, will know that cocking it up results in the walls around you turning red.
-Seriously, where do you buy dynamite from, anyway?

Now, lets wait and see how many people complain about THAT then...

My brother is really quite stupid.

Actually, its just as accurate to declare that both my brothers are really quite stupid, but its not such a good opening sentance.

At this point, any of my real-life crew who’ve ended up here will be saying “He’s quite right, he is,” while nodding sagely. In between the cries of “Why the Dickens am I reading this idiots mindless drivel when I could be (insert suitable activity here)?” They all know the limitless stupidity the other spawn of my mother can produce.

However, everyone else will be going “So what? My brother/sister/pet lobster does stupid things all the time!” But they are ants before the Godly stupidity of my brothers.

Picking on a nine-year old for being a moron is, in my experience, comparable to the people who sue McDonalds because eating sixteen gallons of grease a day has made them fat (a subject I shall no doubt mercilessly lampoon some other day), so we’ll focus on “Big Brother”, world renowned for his acts of gross cretinosity. Herein is one such tale.

Over dinner one Sunday evening, we were trying to avert the tedium by telling Little Brother all about teeth. Quite specifically, how you start with one set of teeth, loose them, and grow another. Common knowledge to most humans older than Little Brother, you’d have thought.

Preceding this conversation, Big Brother had had a tooth removed, with the result being a huge and lovely hole wherein once a tooth lay. I turned to him at this point and asked what he intended to do about said hole.

Perfectly straight faced, he declares “Grow another one!”

If you could bottle stupidity, he could start a distillery.

Right, that’s enough of your time wasted for one evening. Go home! Or try and prove me wrong in whatever shitty forum I've got up. I'm quite sure you won't...

Yes, I've finished now. Scarper.

And on this day, Chyld stepped up, and made a blog. But not just any blog, however. Oh no. A blog that tries lamely to be funny, and probably fails!

So, simply to fill up my first update, lets talk about what the hell I'm doing. As if I actually knew myself!

My dictionary is so old, it doesn't contain an entry for "blog". But in my mind, it means one of two things:
1.) Whiny kids moaning about how much their life sucks. Something everyone else in the world is dying to read about.
or...
2.) Generally funny missives from people who'd probably kill you if they met you in real life.

I'd like to think I'm going to fit into the latter category, mainly because if I tried relating all the shit I go through properly, you'd die of either boredom or insanity. So, every day I can be bothered (not including today, today I'm just waffling), a big slab of me saying "So this is why everything's wrong, now laugh" will mysteriously appear here! Oh what fun!

And since its a blog, I've got to quote/list sixteen million songs about how life sucks, to show how my life sucks! Well, I'm not going to do that, I'm going to quote myself!

"I'm not allowed to think! I'm supposed to talk bollox 24/7!"

Yeah, one of those...