Less Is More v1.6

It seems to be "Dead Short Updates Day", doesn't it? Nonetheless, this needs sharing.

I've been looking at free webhosts for hosting what will be Less Is More v2.0 (OH SHIT, THAT WAS A SUPRISE, FORGET THAT!), and one seemed too good to be real. 2500mb of space for free? So I checked the Terms and Conditions. I found this:

12.1 Nothing in these terms and conditions shall exclude or limit [WEBHOST]'s liability for death or personal injury resulting from [WEBHOST]'s negligence or that of its employees, agents or sub-contractors.

How the hell does one die from the Internet?!?

It was another crappy year. I fucked up lots of things again.

So, as the year draws to a shuddering close, its about time for every blog on the Internet to do a "This Year Summery" update. And guess what? I love bandwagons. They save me from having to think of ideas for updates! Yes, I know that my LiveJournal is the home of my personal life, but who really gives a flying monkey? Easy update, people!

So, Chyld's 2004...

January

The year started as I meant to continue it; up at midnight, pissed out of my face, in nothing but my boxers.

Well, the "in my boxers" thing didn't last the rest of the year, but you get my gist.

It carried on with me waking up in Brian's house, hungover as hell, asleep on a single armchair. Ah, what a way to live.

The only other prominant event of the month, apart from yet more delightful time in the hellhole we called Sixth Form, was going to London to see The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster play in what amounted to be a basement. Still, it was only £13 to get both me and CompleteAnarchy in...

Febuary

Only two significant happenings happened in this month, and they both happened at the same time. One was the America trip, the other was Valentines Day.

Like The Great Sarcastic Webmaster before me, I was being jettisoned from my country, from a quiet and introverted time of life, to sunny and foreign shores. The difference being, I wasn't staying there, I'd left the country before, and I wasn't able to drink there.

However, due to the arrival of Valentines Day, like him before me, I assumed that my landing from my final plane flight would result in me meeting my girlfriend. Since it was Valentines Day, and I in my folly was still arse-over-tit mad for K80. I therefore pumped my heart and soul into the most romantic Valentines Day card you could ever imagine, and a little sand thing which had a heart on it. And so, on Thursday the 12th, I left it with a good friend of hers, to deliver in my absense.

So I left the next day, with a song in my heart, and a bag full of clothes, and sadly no whiskey. Before I had the chance to leave, I recieved a "Thank You!" text from K80, and a text from the courier friend saying (almost exactly) "Why are you going away? You need to be here right now!"

In my language, given the circumstances, this usually means "You're due lots of sex, you lucky, lucky man!" surely? So, across the beaches of Venice Beach, the glamour of Hollywood, the lights of Vegas, and the majestic panorama of the Grand Canyon covered in snow, I was texting home trying to see just how lucky I was going to get.

I also practised my blogging skills by keeping a diary. Although it was very personal, and therefore totally unsuitable for publishing here. Unless you find me saying how much I love someone interesting reading, in which case there's probably about 100,000 odd LiveJournals you can look at...

On my return, it turned out I wasn't going to get lucky, nor did I have a girlfriend. But never mind, there was weed...

March

My birthday, of course! I became 18! Allowed to drink legally! I didn't get any groping time like I did at my last birthday party (even though she did look like the back end of a truck without the beer goggles), but I did get extremly drunk, had a joint, and introduced my half-digested dinner to the bar. Good times...

Also, Yahtzee showed his head again, baggsed a forum on Chefelf Night Life, and I moved into my current favourite forum of residence. Where I am an authority on absolutly nothing at all.

April

K80 ran the marathon, and Less Is More was created. This summerises the pertinant facts of the month.

What? Not every month in my life is crazy fun!

May

The last day of Sixth Form was marked by me being dragged round the school trying to sell Prom tickets, someone sticking a fish in the Common Room, and me coming inches away from sleeping with K80.

I spent an entire update writing about this, so there's no point repeating myself. Summery; I tried tickling her, she grabbed my arms, then once everyone had gotten too embaressed to stay much longer (the gropings did it, I think), she grabbed my face with hers. Next thing I know, I'm on a cricket pitch with no trousers on.

And naturally, given my track record, she decided that she didn't want either me or my babies, desipte my guesses to the contrary. My god, that made the idea of her being my prom date difficult...

June

The onset of exams led to SuperMarct becoming a paid-up guest updater, and a week of updates on aliens, festivals and camera phones.

Exams. Yes. Fun fun fun.

July

Ah yes, enough happened this month, and I documented it all.

K80 decided that being my prom date was too much hassle and pulled Brian (I'm not pissed off - he'd never been kissed by a girl before), the violent backlash forced me into mass drinkery on the barge holiday, where I found myself going out with TinyOne, this carried on into the week SuperMarct came over to meet the then-united "Less Is More Crew - Amersham And Surrounding Areas", she then dumped me the week afterwards. I didn't really speak to her again until September, when... but enough said for now. Don't want to piss anyone else off. Needless to say, there's a weeksworth of update on that month that'll tide you over if you really care that much...

August

Another action-packed month. I went to France for a fortnight, and discovered the fact that French cider is actually better than Strongbow (although I didn't realise at the time). The the day I got back, I discovered that - somehow - I'd got good enough marks to go to Hull University. This was celebrated by getting rat-arsed. The rat-arsedness spilled into Reading Festival, where each date can be summerised as follows:

Woke up
Drank
Watched bands
Drank some more
Watched bands
Went to CompleteAnarchy's tent and got stoned
Came back and slept

The good times. Also, this was the period when we were all playing Path To Glory - Warhammer mini-game where evil Chaos warbands batter each other senseless, in order to score points with which to improve their warband and batter other warbands senseless, in an everlasting vicious circle...

September

And thus, on the Great Plane Crash Day, I moved away from home and up north 215 miles. "Jennings" was abandoned, in favour of various permutations of "Jagger". Hair straighteners were actually brought into contact with my hair, to great effect. My messy room at home, was substituted for half of a double room being knee-deep in studenty clutter. I could actually get into my own bed without having to climb a ladder. I was revered for my nonsense, instead of recieving curious looks. I could actually claim "Yes, I am a student", with all the benefits that this entails. I actually went to nightclubs...

October

...until I managed to spend all of my student loan. £1100 is not THAT easy to spend all in one month, unless you drink as much as I managed to.

November

I spent most of this month living off of one meal a day, not really going 0ut, attached to my laptop. Until parental donations buoyed up the funds, at which point the assesed essays raised their heads. 10,000 words of essays, stories and analysises. Lovely stuff, tempered only by frequent nights in Spiders nightclub.

December

The prodgial son deigned his home with its presense this month. And for some reason, no one saw fit to give him Christmas work. I'll have the last laugh, however - when I come back for Easter, I'll fucking murder them all!

So, a quiet year, then? Hell no! And it isn't going to be any quieter next year!

I actually enjoyed yesterday’s update by Chyldio. Though I don’t think we need to be too picky, Mister Chyld. Besides that the format is all wrong. I dated a lot of different types of girls, so I can know. It is not about the qualities the gals don’t have, it’s about the qualities they do have. And with qualities I don’t really mean good cooking skills and really soft skin, I mean the negative meaning of quality. You’ll find the Ten Be’s that you shouldn’t ‘be’.

Uno: Be a cheat
Normally guys cheat on girls and girls will cry. I have never cheated and don’t think I ever will, so I like girls that don’t cheat on me. Though I’m not going to cry (at least when someone’s around).

Dos: Be one that dislikes me
A lot of people dislike me. But I know some people like me. A few like me a lot, but until you spend a whole week with me you can really judge. My friends used to call me ‘major fuck-up’ and I have to admit it wasn’t without a reason. I remember getting phone numbers for the cutest girls and I simply lost them. Anyway, people think mostly I’m a funny guy. And I agree. But remember coping 24/7 with my sicko jokes can be quite a task.

Tres: Be ugly
Of course I like you to be nice in the first place, but you’ll have to have a bit of cuteness…

Cuatro: Be a fan of crap music
Of course I can’t judge anyone’s taste of music, I like punkrock and pop punk for God’s sake! But really if you look as stunning as Claudia Schiffer does but you like rap, I won’t dig you! I mean come on, I won’t date you if you ask me: ‘Who are those Beatles dudes you keep talking about?’

Cinco: Be lame
You don’t need to have the best sense of humour on earth (you can’t even have it, I already took that), but I once dated a girl who didn’t laugh a single time all evening. If a waiter falls in a plate of soup, that just is funny and you need to laugh about it. Being lame really is a no-go.

Seis: Be a stink
I shower and use deodorant! I don’t smell, now why do you stink like the arse of a dead squirrel?

Siete: Be an amateur cell phone photographer
There are a few things I dislike. And cell phones that take photos is on third spot. You can call me anytime. Anytime of the day. I don’t care. But stop taking pictures of me with a cell phone all the time!!

Ocho: Be very tall
Hey, I’m not that tall! You shouldn’t be either. If I want something I’ll go to the zoo to watch giraffes. No I don’t have a dwarf fetish! Be gone you!

Nueve: Be a sleepyhead
Okay, you will probably sleep more than I do, but I dislike it when you sleep ten hours a night. It’ll mean you’re going to bed like… at daylight… stop doing such things. Sleep is overrated anyway.

Diez: Be shy
This is not really a point that I hate or something. You got to remember though that I have a big mouth. And I will make fun off you, you got to get me back or you’ll end up with a rope around you neck and… well, you get the point. Don’t be shy.

So, don’t do these things and we will live a happy three weeks. You’ll lose your sanity within a month, but always remember: it will be the most bizarre three weeks of your life!

Ps once is: Be an Olympic swimmer. I don’t care if you go swimming, but if you like it, you probably ask me to come with you. I dislike swimming more than cell phones that take pictures.

As you should all well know from two-thirds of a year of me rabbiting on about absolutly nothing importent, I'm not a hugely deep man. I drink as hard as an average student is supposed to, I smoke weed whenever I can, and the emphesis of this rant; I'm painfully single.

Admittedly, looking like the back end of a cart is not a good start, but I've been told many times that I don't. I'm also, not to blow my own trumpet, what can be defined as a "nice guy" - I get on with nearly everyone, always help people if I can (I once dropped everything, including an essay, to cycle into town to pick up a bottle of wine), and some other stuff I can't remember. And still no one's interested! Or not very vocally.

So, its beer and weed for now then. But if I had the choice (Laugh My Arse Off), there's quite a very specific woman I'm after. Therefore, to aid the Great Search, here's a few guidelines, if you want to become a registered Chyld's Girlfriend...

1.) Must Be Articulate Typist

I pride myself on being one of very few people I know who, in an age of half-articulate "lol u r teh funnee!!!!!!!" IM conversations, actually spells and punctuates all his online works correctly. Yes, I do abbreviate some words (enuff and enough, thru and through), I do struggle with "teh" and "the" at high speeds, and sometimes I'm just too drunk to notice the mistakes, but these are the exceptions that prove the rule. And it annoys me, when talking to a sweetheart online, having to battle through no capitals, no punctuation, and a prespondence of exclamation marks (I belive many people would agree that "amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" is no more amazing than "amazing!")

All the great webmasters of our time have girlfriends (or maybe boyfriends - I guess there's more than a few quality lady-run websites out there), and I feel it should be something that comes as part of the package - 75p p.a. salary, full creative rights to a domain, free email address of usename@domainname.com, girlfriend who can type properly. Hell, maybe I've hit on a good marketing strategy.

But at anyrate, my ideal girlfriends must be able to communicate on the Internet as articulatly as in real life, if not more so. Long ridiculous words like mine optional.

2.) Must Be Quite OK By Me And My Drunkeness

Some would argue that I should have a "Must Be Hard Drinker" category, knowing me. But I concur! On the one hand, its getting harder and harder these days to find anyone who doesn't drink at all, and its only marginally harder to find someone who doesn't drink like a fish. I may do a survey on it some day.

No, the greater problem lies with me and my bizarre behaviour when I'm drunk. Any lady I go out with must be quite fine with me talking an even greater volume of nonsense, occasional projectile vomiting (and even more occasionaly, having that vomit thrown around by your best mate...) and other such happenstances. Personal alcohol consumption by the girlfriend is optional.

3.) Must Smoke Weed

And I'm not talking about the odd joint on special occasions. My ideal lady must be able to make like a chimney with the holy green herb as often, if not more so, than I do.

There are numerous reasons for this. One is personal taste. I am a stoner, ergo common interest. There's also the fact that, compared to the number of male stoners, there's very short supply of ladies tokers in my life. I'm not good friends with any lady in the South who does it, and up North there's only one who properly "does it". And she's taken. Bugger.

4.) Must Enjoy My Universal Oddities

The first person that can prove I'm as normal as other people will, on me, recieve a free gold-plated pony. Even I know that I'm the strangest, most random person I know. Of course, there's probably stranger, more random people than me in the world, but I haven't met them yet.

Upon encountering this great force of nonsense, people tend to react in one of three ways. Either they're repulsed (I can name one person at each end of the country who hates me for it), they accept it and move on, or they fall in love with it and call it their best friend. I'd prefer somebody from the latter category, because lets be honest, we all love hero worship.

5.) Must Not Be A Whimsical Bitch

Want to know why all of my relationships last less than a fortnight? Don't ask me, I certainly don't know. But its easier on my ego to suggest that all my girlfriends have been annoyingly flighty mares who can't stick with a man for toffee. And ironically, judging from past experience and present communications, its all so true. My ideal lady will either love me for a long time, or not at all.

Hmm, stating the bloody obvious now, it seems...

6.) Shit Hot And Horny Preferable

Well, I'm male, aren't I? Aren't I allowed to dream of large tits, tight ass, and sex 24/7? I'm well aware that each individuals idea of "shit hot" varies, so I'll leave it to you to work out. May I ass that none of my girlfriends have ever been blonde, so wipe that stereotype away right now...

Well, this update's not going to get me laid, but damnit, I need to try. You all know my e-mail address, you all know my forum, hop to it...

Of course, this sum is wildly inaccurate, but who's counting?

Reading my own blog the other day, I encountered Mr Lazer's ruminations upon the coming year, and it reminded me of my own half-arsed resolutions from the beginning of the year. Every year, I make a list in my diary of the same sort of resolutions every year, and every year, I forget about the diary by May. But also, I pull off all the easy resolutions, and none of the none-so-easy ones. So, lets have a gander at some of these worthless institutions...

1.) Work on my drumming

OK, I can see already that very little of this list is actually material for hilarity, I apologise now. So, drumming. I've had that bloody drum kit for over two years now, and I'm too goddamned lazy to walk down to the garage for half an hour a night to practise. Only when I have a band round does it get a workout. The dust and rust must be getting inches thick by now. And its hardly like a guitar, you can't stick it in the boot, lug it up to university and practise in your room. Well, not without surrendering half the floor and pissing off your roommate.

2.) Get a woman (Preferably that one)

Along with the "learn an instrument", there's always "find your own penis-holder". However, to use a phrase I coined in Hull (prepares to lose all his friends at uni), the ones that are worth it aren't single, and the ones that are single aren't worth it. Its universal, isn't it? All the people you really like... sorry, sorry bloggy. Won't happen again this sentence. But anyway...

We all know by now who "that one" was, hence the crossing out. Moving on...

3.) Fuck

Well, it speaks for itself. One can only inflate ones own bike tires with the pump so many times before a desire for human contact sets in. See, if you can't think of a goos wanking metaphor, make your own up. Join in, boys and girls!

4.) Principles (again)

I'm a very principled guy, little as it seems. Hold doors open for people, even if you look stupid doing it. Thank anyone who does likewise, even if very quietly. Be nice to everyone you can be nice to. I kinda broke that the other year by slapping a friend, but in all fairness we both know she had it coming.

5.) At uni- join a gym.

I was under some bizarre impression, at the turn of the year, that going to university would be such a dramatic change, that I would end up signing up for a gym, go every week, and end up with abs that ahd women drooling all over them. About one third of that sentence has occured thus far. I signed up, had a stonking cold, thus preventing me going, then ran out of the folding. Ah well, there's always Arnolod Right-Hand, and Mary Jane Wana to keep me going. Sigh...

6.) At uni- drink more.

*insert long amount of uneering giggling*

7.) Take over the world.

Because we all know that I deserve to rule the world. You pretend that I'm just another guy, but really, you all want me as your master, and you all want my children. Yeah, and the usual spiel as well.

8.) Make/update humour/blog site.

Erm... There you go then.

That reminds me, I need a diary for next year. Preferably one with only half the year in it, so that I don't waste paper...

It's been awhile since you heard from me. I'm getting tired of all the e-mails you guys are sending me with question how I'm doing. So, I better write it down here.

First I changed my name. Super still fits me, for I am super of course, but the name is so widely known nowadays, that it's time to get back a little. I rather stay the mysterious guy instead of strolling the streets with Ed and Ted all day. Ed and Ted will be my bodyguards of course. I don't want an Ed and a Ted tailing me 24/7!

So, Marky it is now. But if you're a foxy lady you can call me whatever you want.

My job still sucks big time. Only a month or so to go and then I go back to school (which reminds me, don't go watch the movie Back to School it sucks. And I heard a new one is going to be released next year. Don't watch that one either, just in case).

So, my plans for the New Year...

First I need to do a lot of schoolwork. In six months I need to earn a lot of so called Study Points. Normally I would have to get 22 in six months. I need to get 32.

Then I need to find myself a new working experience address and I try to get one outside Hollanda. London's calling? I hope so.

Other plans... Get myself a guitar. A cheap one. Preferably a pink one. And then found the band I want since quite a time.

More plans for the New Year... Turn twenty-two. Though I will try to turn twenty...

Good resolves (or whatever you call it at the Foggy Islands): start smoking, less exercising, faster food... I hate those I'm-going-to-live-a-better-life-now-it's-the-new-year assholes. When people tell me at midnight they quitted smoking, I'm getting myself a pack of cigarettes and blow the smoke in their faces all night! I hate you! Die!

Okay, what will I be up to... travelling I hope. Visit some friends outside The Netherlands... Belgium, maybe even Danmark, I like to go to Spain or Greece... Now I'm not forgetting anything, am I? Oh yeah, I'm going to pay you British lads and lassies a visit too probably! Be afraid, I know where you life! (not too smart giving your address to a schizophrenic psycho, is it?)

Last but not least, the one thing I'm going to try is get a stabile relationship*

For now, merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Marky Lazer!

* Mawahahahaha! Like that's ever going to happen!

OK, this update every week thing ain't gonna happen very often, but its all been news-based lately. We must pause for a moment, and pay tribute...

Start here...

That truely and utterly sucks. Pantera were immense, and it was all down to Dimebag Darrell and his guitar.

Seems its only the latest in the shining gems of rock and roll that have been taken from us this year. Around the time I left for Hull, Johnny Ramone left this mortal coil to join the lads in heaven, robbing me of any slim chance of seeing them live. And forget not Rafe Chiles, who actually pioneered the music scene round here from scratch.

For those who rocked, and have departed, We Salute You.

Gather round, boys and girls, I'm about to rant again. This time, it isn't family that is the eye of my wrath, its not poor George W. Bush. It's a man, called Chris Weitz.

No, I don't know who he is either, and didn't until about 8am today. I opened the family copy of the times, to see that they were making a film out of the "His Dark Materials Trilogy". I assume that very few of my readership know of these wonderful workd of literature, in which case my audience is stupid. The importent thing to note, is that the over-riding theme is an attempt to destroy God, who happens to be an evil, oppressive force, rather than the benevolent creator. So what do they do to this wonderful book? Have a look. And here for The Times' article.

This angers me on so many levels, it isn't funny. Let's think about this, its a book whose primary topic is religion. This guy, Chris Weitz, decides to take it on. And then immediatly decides to take the religion out of it to avoid offending people.

What the bloody hell happened to "if you don't like it, don't watch it"? Its not an entirely hard concept to understand. For example, I know I'm not going to like it if I eat soup made out of monkey's testicles, so I don't eat soup made out of monkey's testicles. How this has eluded Christianity completly eludes me equally.

I know what went wrong. Political correctness went wrong, that's what. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for a measure of PC-ness. I don't like the idea of discriminating against people for their gender, race, religion, etc. Its pretty moronic, considering that we're all just as equal to be blown to Sunday dinner if we get hit by a grenade, say. However, its gone mad. People are afraid of being sued by idiots, so everythings padded by cotten wool. Violent computer games are demonised by mothers of children too stupid to realise that you don't go out and kill everyone after playing Grand Theft Auto, for example. That's another day's rant, but when even my dad agrees with me, you know I'm right.

And notice the quote from the BBC site "Weitz, a rising Hollywood star who directed American Pie and About A Boy, said that the studio, Nine Line Cinema, had expressed concern that His Dark Materials’ perceived anti-religiosity might make “it an inviable project financially”."

Excuse me? Whatever the fuck happened to film as an art form? Profit happened. I could count the number of films that have been made for the art of it on my testicals, and they've both been made by a man whose name rhymes with "Bicycle Whore". Here's a clue: he made Farenheit 9/11. Nothing is made where there isn't a profit, and it seems to be pure fluke when something good comes through. Disney have even made sequals to films like Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, etc. They're fucking with the original fairy stories!

NOTHING IS SACRED.

I got so pissed off, I even bothered writing a letter to the editor of The Times. I'm not reproducing it unless it gets printed, so bugger off.

EDIT: If you check the bottem of the page, where the links to the right have been shunted, you'll see that I've added a mailing list to the festivities. I'll crank out an e-mail whenever I do an update, and sometimes when I think of something cool that can't go in an update. Nifty? Well, sign up then! I'm not going to sell you out to a spam merchant, I've got enough of them after me as it is...

OK, so I'm back home, now what?

Well, those who read carefully around may have found out about my cunning plans for a hand-drawn webcomic to replace The Adventures of Henry Skull. Well, the plans are still in the embryotic stage f0r now - I'm not even sure if I can steal the scanner for my nefarious plan. Howeverm to whet your appetite, here's a page of prelimianary character sketching. The other isn't worth it yet...

So, America then. Its been over a month since about 51% of you decided to be, lets be honest, the most fucking stupid twats of the planet and re-elected George Bush into office. Again. Jesus, wasn't four years enough for you people? Let's have a look at this from a Briton's view, shall we?

• Didn't think much of him before 9/11. Wasn't really exposed to him that much. I was young, and more disposed towards stupid stuff that 14 year olds like.
• Apparently, someone in the US Government was alerted to the dangers of 9/11, but no one did anything about it.
• In addendum, apparently memos went round after that advising Government officials not to fly on that day.
• While retribution is a fine idea, it needs to be approved by the UN if you're gonna bomb the shit out of them. Did Georgey Boy do this? Did he shit.
• And how long was it before he ran after Osama? Long enough. Considering that they never found him.
• And what, exactly, did Iraq have to do with it? Didn't Georgey Boy's dad arm Iraq in the first place?
• Apparently, Al Quaeda was a creation of the American media, and the 9/11 bombers were acting independently. Probably a hoax, but if it isn't...
• Four years, and America has gone from the biggest budget surplus in history to the biggest budget deficit?
• Where have your freedoms gone? Can you spell "PATRIOT ACT"? How did that get through?
• Answer to the above: the media furiously tounging the government's asshole.
• Let's not even think about general American Imperialism...

Who actually thinks such a President is a good thing? I've spoken to many, many Americans on the subject, and all of them have the brain cell quotient to recognise the above. So I'm assuming that the average American on the Internet has accses to such resources as this. Now considering that America is the heartland of the Internet (it wishes...), its going to be the more primitive areas that worship Georgey Boy. I don't want to use the word "rednecks", but...

There are visionaries. Micheal Moore! Mr Moore knows what's actually going on with America! Our friend Madox, who we were introducedto the other day, hates what's going on. Admittedly, he also hates everything that exists, but who's counting?

What happens? These guys get labelled "un-American", "evil", "asshole" and "unpatriotic". Let's go off on a tangent for a bit - unAmerican? What asshole nation comes up with that kind of label then? But anyway, its under the guise of "patriotism" that the Fourth Reich of GeorgeBush rules with its iron fist. We need to fight back with equally unscrupulous tactics.

1.) Find out when a country-wide Presidential television broadcast is going out. If there's one thing the patriotic assholes of the nation love, its their stupid God talking lies to an audience.

2.) Build a HUGE television-radio-wave-thing.

3.) Soon as Georgey Boy starts, hack into every station broadcasting him, and broadcast your own message.

4.) Hold on as long as possible.

5.) SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING! Reveal the truth as I have told it, create a desire to verify it.

6.) The bomb Bush for good measure.

7.) If all else fails, start a revolution. Hell, you kicked the English out a hundred or so years ago, we were doing quite fine ruling you before you got sulky. You can go one further and kick out a true asshole by force...