Dirty Secrets of the Evanescent Mind

New Site

2010-05-01T22:31:00.002+01:00

So I've moved to Wordpress and set up a new blog, pretty much marking the end of Dirty Secrets of the Evanescent Mind. It was a good run on that title - 5 odd years. Expect all future posts on TotallyZo.com. For your convenience, clicking any part of this text will take you there.

Hey, it's because I care :)

- Zo

Short Story: Sway

2010-03-05T03:29:00.002Z

Sway

B y Zo Hashim

She swayed to and fro, like a fluttering escaping dream. Like sand flowing through the eye of an hourglass, it’s final resting place within sight but out of reach. Sand that flowed like time, like the melody of a song. The music filling the room with a powerful ambience of movement and lust.

The air conditioner was silent but powerful. I could feel the thump of my heart as it beat harder and faster, in lieu to my excitement, contrasted by the heavy chill in the air around me. My eyes rocked back and forth, almost fazed out, like a boat on the open seas, drinking deeply of this vast pond, wondering what secrets it’s depths hid, what treasures and perils were in store for those who braved it’s depths, perhaps never to surface again. A place where some or many may venture, depending on the whims and calls of the sea, and the depths of her desire.

She flicked her hair, a wild stallion, with hair of magenta and red. Uncontrollable, a fire that could never be put out, the spark set deep within her green eyes as she looked down at me from above, her gaze spreading evenly desire and indifference about the chill room. Her lips, parted slightly, in an eternal pout, the most desirable face she can muster. The one she would sit and practice for hours at home when she was younger, the one she would pull in all those teenage photographs. It wasn’t her real face. It wasn’t the one a lover would see in her ecstasy, nor the one a shoulder would feel in her grief. But none of that mattered as she sold her lie, to me and all the others present.

Her chest rose and fell as she moved; an exotic dance into itself. Her perfect form, cavortng itself gracefully forwards and up, dignified in its uncivil glory, her perked nipples a testament to the chill I felt. They flirted in their youth, noble and unsheltered and proud, void of the touch of plastic that she may one day yearn, designed to appeal to the fires in others.

I yearned the touch of her against me. The feel of her soft skin, that which she spent hours every day rubbing with products the companies and the media told her she needed to be beautiful. I longed for the beat of her heart against me ears, holding her close to me. I longed for the tight velvet wetness between her thighs, the sign of her woman hood, her place of ultimate surrender. The hidden pearl amidst the cataclysmic seas. The rising storm and the ebbing away of the tidal waves after.

But not today. I stood up and made my way past the small stage. Past others like it. Past more young lithe females, practicing their allure, past many like myself, forever destined to watch from the comfort of the dark. As I passed through the doorway I turned to look at her once more, our eyes locking briefly. She smiled at me, and I knew it was forced. She was relieved one less person had to watch her lay herself bare. And in that moment I knew how she cried when she went home every night. How she cursed herself for being born with the beauty she had. How she despised herself. And perhaps somewhere a part of me felt ashamed.

But that part would die out, deprived of the cold air that place pumped in. The night air outside was humid, and the warm raindrops cleansed my guilt. It was a different world in the room behind me, one that had no consequence to the world outside. I did not see her or love her in this world, this world where she cried and didn't feel beautiful.

But I would be back the next day. Just like she. And I would play my part as she played hers, destined, locked together to fate and the flowing sands.

The End.

Smallville and I: A Tale of Impending Divorce

2010-02-20T11:05:00.005Z

I first saw her many years ago, when I was a much younger man.

I was petrified at the thought of something new. My previous relationships at the time had all been let downs or far too short lived. She was different.

I would stay up for nights on end with her gentle touch, feeding off the ideas she sent my way, laughing at her jokes, immersing myself in the story of her.

That was the beautiful passion between myself and the TV show Smallville, way back when it came out 9 years ago, when I was but 14 years old.

Now don't get me wrong. Back in the beginning I loved that show with my heart and soul. The whole premise of a superhero-before-he-was-a-hero idea was appealing to me.

We broke up briefly in 2005 but came back together full force in 2006, and have been together since.

But now, 2010, and the show in it's ninth year, I'm thinking it's time for a divorce.

A lot of the stuff I found cute about her is just fucking annoying now. Like the fact that Superman can't fly. I mean what the fuck, he should just keep throwing himself off roofs till he achieves it.

Then of course there are the ridiculous relationships. Love, hate, unsure, love, hate, love, death, unsure, love, hate. ARGH! The cycle MUST be broken. So very relieved was I when Erica Durance was introduced into the show as Lois Lane (and thus began the phasing out of Kristin Kreuk). But it's taken the show goodness knows how many years to slowly put that Clark and Lois romance on the burner till now they're finally "dating but only kind of".

Smallville also potentially holds the record for most characters suffering brain damage. Someone is hit over the head in almost EVERY episode, resulting in unconsciousness. It's only a matter of time before someone throws an epileptic fit when clobbered over the head and that's the end of one of the nauseating ensemble of useless sub-characters.

The show and I have reached a difficult position, an impasse of sorts. Either we call it a day now and go our separate ways. We'll occasionally cross paths and have that guilty sex that only broken up couples can have, but that will for the most part be the end of it.

Or.

Here's the catch.

Smallville is old. It's only a couple of years to go before the bitch dies.

So do I stay in this loveless marriage, in the hopes that when she dies I'm left with something good in the form of a decent series finale?

Or do I cry bloody divorce now and tear this union to tatters?

I must ponder this while I watch Episode 13.

-Zo

Cock Pride

2010-02-09T15:36:00.003Z

For those sensitive to the mention, thought or visualisation of the male appendage known as the penis, perhaps this read will prove a little too heavy for your liking.

For the rest of you filth lovers out there, get ready for an interesting journey into the inner workings of the penis, not so much as a tool, but more as an icon or symbol.

Ah the human penis.

Versatile in its many uses. It can be used to fornicate, pleasure, to slap uncompromising people across the face with. And also to pee with (though clearly while our aim does improve over time, it seems to get much worse the more you have to drink. Similar to driving I would feel.)

Now fair enough, the penis has it's uses, but at the same time, hundreds of years of culture and civilization has culminated to a crucial factor; it is not OK to show your cock off in public.

Case in point; streaking is generally not something your parents tell you to aspire to do when you're older.

Nudity in Public

Now here the argument reaches an interesting crux. You have the protagonist, which is a naked man with his penis out on show. And you have the setting. Now depending on the setting, some forms of clothing are acceptable. Just as you would not wear a penguin suit to a funeral, there are situations plentiful when you should not be gallivanting around naked. Like at school. Or at church. Or at your son's birthday party. You get the idea.

The setting of this particular scenario is the changing room at my gym.

Now this provides an interesting conundrum. While the changing room of a gym is indeed a legitimate place for one to be nude, there is indeed a degree to which nudity is acceptable.

It is acceptable, for example, to be drying your nether parts with a towel. It is NOT acceptable to be using the hair dryers provided for this purpose. It is acceptable to be stood naked to one side, but perhaps not right in the middle.

I feel a scale should be adopted. It may look something like this:

Become Nude |-----------x----------x---------x---------| Cease Nudity

The timer on the scale starts from the point you begin being publicly nude and ends at the point you cease being so. The little crosses represent the various actions you conduct in the duration between.

I would argue that the processes should be kept to a bare minimum. You should not be doing your hair naked, or flexing while looking at the big mirror.

It is by reducing the expenditure of unnecessary abilities in the nude that one reduces the level of invasion others will feel.

Cock Pride

Now to the greater question of Cock Pride.

There are few things men are truly envious of from one another in the more physical sense. Sure you may see a guy with abs and you may look down at your own gut and think, "Why not me?" Sure you see guys with giant arms, full heads of hair, regal facial features, fine skin, the list goes on. None of those things will truly break your confidence as much as a man with a larger penis than yours.

It is a fact that cock pride is a very important trait to most men. It gives them that edge over 'The Man'. You see that prick driving around in his big Ferrari, and you think to yourself, "Yeah, whatever, he's overcompensating." And it makes you feel better, even as you take your Fiat Punto home.

No offence to Punto owners.

...

Actually, immense offence to Punto owners. Get a proper fucking car.

Right, I digress. So anyway, cock pride is present. As such, in our aforementioned naked man scenario, one will always find their vision drawn to the member of the other man, followed a split second mental calculation, which is either followed by a sigh or a small private grin (or the Knowing Smile, for those who regularly read my blog (In which case you're probably doing it right now yourselves, congratulations!)).

Now I'm not particularly affected by what I see. Not saying anything (but yes, I am hung like a lynched civil war rebel - take your time to think about that analogy), but I'm not worried when I do see the penis of another man. What I do dislike though is being FORCED to see the penis of another man.

I was at my gym but yesterday, and after a nice workout I decided to spend some time in the sauna. The sauna has a glass door. Right in front of said glass door, a man decided he would stand, ass naked, and prance around doing fuck knows what for 10 minutes.

That was the most uncomfortable sweat session I ever had.

Moral of the story? I don't really think there is one. Just keep your fucking cock out of my face goddamnit!

- Zo

Short Story: The Well

2010-02-07T18:57:00.003Z

THE WELL

By Zo Hashim

(Dedicated to Sarah F. and her awesome boobs.)

The weariness was staggering.

I gasped for air, sharp bursts of respite that brought both life and pain with each drag. Sweat covered me in a fine glazed sheen, mingled with upturned dirt from my heavy footfalls on the ground. I paid them no heed, instead focusing on my goal. I kept moving forward.

Tree branches and the tendril like hands of smaller entities blocked my path and I dug through as best I could, wedging a path with my tiring hands, adorned with a latticework of cuts and welts. I ignored them. It was beyond my ability to function fully; the fever and heat and driven me half mad, and I knew my mind was reaching its limit.

I stumbled through the green growth before me and staggered a little, taken off guard by the fact that I was no longer in the tight confines of the jungle, but rather a clearing too near and perfect in shape and size to have been naturally formed.

I retreated a little, back into the cover of the tree line. While in the jungle I was harried and beaten by the elements and the spirit of the forest, it still served as protection, a kind of maternal embrace, hiding me from the naked brazenness this open space offered.

Slowly I built up my courage and crept forward.

The grass on the ground was immaculate and untouched yet well kempt, like the pet project of a secret gardener far from the prying and envious eyes of neighbors. My eyes trained forward, adjusting to sight so alien from all I had seen these past days.

There was a well, centered in the clearing. It was of a smooth dark stone, the type of which I was not familiar with, but my knowledge of things masonic was limited. Still it struck me as a kind that was not common. It portrayed a shine akin to shimmering silver and I found myself drawn toward it inexplicably. As I walked forward I felt the weariness lifting from me, my back straightening, my mind reasserting its natural calm, my cracked and bleeding skin stitching itself shut and smoothing without a trace.

I did not notice these things ,for my mind, eyes, ears, and every other sense were locked on the beautiful being that sat on the rim of the stone well.

She was graceful, her naked skin tinged with a hint of regal, calming green, her body lithe and sensuous. Her limbs moved with grace and allure. I blushed, or would have at least, had I not been so utterly captivated by her beauty. Her perfect breasts, defiantly thrust up when she crooked her back, the scent of her invading my senses, filling my mind with thoughts and ideas from beyond the capabilities of my imagination.

Her wild hair, red as drying blood, gently swayed in the wind as she set her eyes upon me, deepest of blue I had ever seen.

She smiled a little and I felt a tug on my soul, drawing me closer to her, till I was close enough to feel the promise of warmth emanating from her.

Wryly she leant forward and whispered in my ear. She told me not who she was, but what she represented was left to no doubt.

“Three wishes?” I asked, a little cautious.

She smiled, mouthing words softly, her voice a breeze on the gentle winds. “Three. No more, no less.”

“What is the catch? What do you get from this?”

She smiled wider, a lion on the scent of its prey. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

I knew what I wanted. I knew why I had come here. Why I had sought her out. I fell to my knees before her as I began to cry.

“I want to be happy.”

I suddenly felt a change in my feelings, my emotions churning, before they settled again on what they had been.

“I do not understand. Nothing has changed.”

She smiled that knowing smile. “For there to be happiness, there has to be sadness. The two are in eternal balance. Without one, the other cannot be.”

“You don’t understand. This pain I feel, it is beyond any other.”

“How could you know this?”

I cleared my tears. My second wish. “I want to be able to see the happiness and sadness of others.”

She touched my forehead and I gasped as awareness of the emotions of others crept into my consciousness. From hundreds of miles away I could sense them, living their lives, feeling their feelings, free from the knowledge that someone could be watching them. I saw the heaviness in their hearts, some much greater than mine, yet they struggled on with their lives. How did they keep going.

My tears flowed heavier now. I could not bear the burden any longer. “Please. I wish to die. I wish to be free of this.”

She looked at me for a moment, then very slowly took my face in her hands. Helping me rise to my feet she pressed her gentle form against me, causing the heat within me to rise. She kissed me.

My eyes forced themselves open. I did not know where I was. Disorientation settled and slowly I took in my surroundings. I was back in my home. It’s walls were barren, our possessions smashed and shattered, memories and stories from my life broken and scattered like pots of clay.

My beloved lay at my feet, her body still cold and twisted. Lifeless. Even in death her beauty was astounding.

I braced myself for the flood of tears, but they never came. I stood watching her, for a long while, till she was nothing more than the ghost of a memory, a hint at something that had once been. I turned away.

I felt nothing.

The End.

A Tinge of a Smile, the Art of Lying, and a Word on Hypocrisy

2010-01-19T21:23:00.005Z

Those of you who know me in person will know of my hyperactive facial reactions.

I am forever destined to fail at poker, simply because I have an overly emotive face. My eyebrows (each one packaged with individual movement no less) will arch and crook, rise and fall to the sways of my speech, like they are dancing to a haunting melody (though any one who has heard me singing in the shower should know that that is far from the case). My mouth will draw back in a variety of smiles and frowns to pantomime the context. I will narrow my eyes and widen them as appropriate. Plus half a dozen other little nuances that people point out to me over time (and typically the more people study them, the quicker they get terrified of me).

But there is one gesture I am particularly fond, nay, proud of. It is the:

Knowing Smile.

Few people have adopted the same degree of mastery in it's execution that I have. So legendary is it that it has become known by several names. My family members will refer to it as 'The Smirk', while a few select friends that have noticed it have come up with less mysteriously vague names (some fairly outrageous which I refuse to mention on the principle that this post is predominantly about how awesome I am and thus does not warrant any mention of prior flamings I may have received).

The Knowing Smile. Most often executed in moments of polite nostalgia. Appropriate in times of reconcile and forming kinship and bond, and I daresay necessary when you catch out the most immaculate of liars.

A note on lying:

A lot of people will identify this to be an abhorrent trait. Nay, I refute this. Those who hate lying are those who are most naive amongst us. I put to you the harsh reality that everyone, in fact, does lie, be it little white lies, or great big Iraq war starting ones. Lying is an art form that many will spend their whole lives attempting to master but few will succeed.

Lying, much akin to poker, will have it's little tells. And much like a poker face, you will also need to develop a lying face to be truly successful (next Lady Gaga single perhaps? Um, or not.).

There will be more mention of this later, but for now, lets move on to the principle topic behind this entire post.

Hypocrisy:

Hypocrisy will often encompass the lie; most often, it is the lie one tells to one's self. And as with catching a liar, the Knowing Smile is also very effectively exercised upon the weeding out of a hypocrite.

Now hypocrisy is something I bitch about regularly from time to time. Be it in friends, family, ex girlfriends, neighbours, presidents, nature, or in myself. None of them quite infuriates them as much as myself being hypocritical (being a firm believer in 'what goes around, comes around' after all).

Still, it can be entertaining when you catch someone out on it.

Take this example:

I was at Asda the other day (and any frequent visitor of this blog will know how much I hate superstores, those cesspools designed to bring out the most base of human traits), and the following exchange was taking place in the counter queue next to mine:

Man 1 points at Man 2, who has cut in front of him in the line: "OI!" (Very Loud. Very Rude.)

Man 2 turns around to confront his vocal aggressor: "Yes?"

Man 1: "There's a fucking queue." (Punctuated with a possible spitting sound).

Man 2: "Yes I know, I was here, I was just stood to the side a bit."

At this point Man 2 turns around, no longer deeming it necessary to recognize Man 1's existence.

Man 1 continues talking to the back of Man 2's head: "Oh yeah? Some people are so FUCKING RUDE." (His tone rises in an exponential arc at each word, till he's almost shouting at the end of it.)

I trigger the Knowing Smile.

Now let's get something clear. We all hate queue jumpers. They are a potential bane on modern society. They are arguably representative of the strong/weak divide. The citizen/delinquent relationship. The Dictator/Elected Official dilemma. They take what they want without consideration to others. As such, they are worthy of your eternal hate.

However, the only thing bigger than an asshole is someone who proceeds to be a self righteous dick to said asshole.

For example, someone is giving you a verbal tirade with very poor grammar, and you choose to respond to them by insulting their level of English. Hey you may be right, but guess what, you're a pretentious prick also. People may have taken your side in the original argument, but by conducting the aforementioned taboo, you have branded yourself a super-asshole (that being an asshole constructed from the parts of lesser assholes).

After said altercation between Man 1 and Man 2 I no longer felt bad for Man 1. I instead felt myself championing the cause of Man 2, albeit silently. Surely if the incident were to erupt in violence I would plant a stealthy kick to Man 1's groin. If Man 2 somehow managed to knock out all the security cameras, this would be followed by a cheap bottle of wine to Man 1's skull. Ah the possibilities are endless.

Anyway so there is my rant on hypocrisy, and the knowing smile, which I will now stop referring to as a proper noun.

I hope you enjoyed this episode of Zo's life.

- Zo

Another Short Story

2010-01-05T15:15:00.002Z

Secrets

By Zohaib Hashim

I looked up at the stars. Probably the same way hundreds before me have looked upon them, making their wishes, observing their beauty, sharing their deepest darkest secrets. The stars were a gentle listener, always promising something more than was immediately there. Many secrets lay hidden beyond their veils, secrets from our pasts. Secrets to shape our futures. Secrets that we would never know.

He moaned a little as I stroked his excitement, and the timbre in his voice sent shivers up my spine, much more heightened by the way he stroked me gently too. We lay beside each other, looking at the stars that would keep our secrets.

I turned to look at him gently, stroking his rough face with my hand. He in turn closed his eyes, enjoying the tumultuous depths of our serene moment; the inner cacophony that raged bright, not betrayed by the calm exterior.

He clenched his hand tightly in my hair as he stroked me faster with the other. The inner fire continued to build, seeking a release. Rooting out that one source of escape from whence it burst forth, shattering the external calm, creating a sweet gentleness within as the flames died down to a gentle ember, a great flame within that the spirits of our desire would toil endlessly to reignite continuously till the far years of our lives. We were breathing heavy, and looking upon one another, we smiled.

We turned to face the sky again. The stars smiled down on us, soaking us within the comfort of their illuminating radiance. In the distance, I saw a large cloud. It was moving slow, and I knew one day it would blot the stars above. But it was not today, not in this moment, and that I would not let be ruined.

He sat up slowly, looking out at the distant horizon. I sat up beside him, following his gaze. We sat in silence, gazing at the distant skyline. At the rises and falls in the land painted in eerie tones of gold and orange, the final dregs off the palette of the setting sun. I narrowed my eyes as the wind picked up, blowing specks of dust in my face from the arid planes below.

He slowly stood, dragging the moment kicking and screaming back by its heels to the reality we lived in.

He turned to me and gave me a gentle smile. “I should go. She will be waiting for me.”

I faltered a little before I returned his gesture. “When will I see you again?”

“Soon.” He left me sitting there as he made his way down the stepped hill we had been laying on. I sat a while more, looking out into the wilds as the light failed. Finally I too stood up to make my way back. I looked off to the east, at the ruins of the great civilization that had once been.

The ruins and spires went high into the air, strong walls of stone and steel. Streets of stone, interlaced by steel lines thick and thin, like the many lines of veins and arteries coursing through a body to keep it alive. To keep this civilization teeming.

I looked up at the sky one last time, at the stars which knew all. They would never tell us what had happened here, but that could not be changed. We all have our secrets and we must keep them how best we can, and gain from them what we will. I slowly made my way down the hill, putting the thoughts out of my mind.

Tomorrow would be another day.

2010

2010-01-01T13:27:00.002Z

2009 was not kind to me.
It has been, to my memories best efforts, quite possibly the worst year I've ever had. Nothing seemed to go right. But hey, if you've already seen the worst of it, things can only get better right?

Another way to look at it would be that 2009 totally shook the foundations of a lot of things I took for granted, and forced me to open my eyes, to new pains and sorrows yes, but also to new experiences and sensations. I guess in a way, I'm grateful that things went so bad, because it showed me how bad things can get, and how I can strive to get past it all.

Ah the melodrama. Right well I'm not a big believer in new year resolutions; in particular because I never seem to follow them. But I have made my mind up about a few things and I intend to see them through. I wouldn't say I decided those things BECAUSE it was the new year, but more because I guess of late my resolve and determination have been hardening.

That's a good thing right?

Still, I wish you all the happiest of a new year. And remember not to take anything for granted in your lives; that girlfriend you treat like shit, that special friend who is always there for you. Those parents who never expect any thanks. That teacher who goes out of his way to help you out. You never know what you might lose and the loss of it is only really felt when it's gone.

- Z

Jesus Is So Much Faster Than I Am

2009-12-23T15:14:00.003Z

It took Chirst 3 days to ressurect himself.
I'm kind of going on 3 months.

But hey, Jesus was a miracle worker, a healer of the blind; a prophet, Messiah, Son of God, take your pick in order of your religious preference. I would have to be an absolute idiot to try to compete with him. I mean for starters I'm totally lacking a cool beard and my hair goes frizzy if it grows that long.

But I digress. It has indeed been a little over three months since my last post and so this is sort of my "Hey, I'll try to do better" post to apologize to the very few among you who actually read my garbage regularly.

A few points of update:
- A lot more focused on my writing. Expect a manuscript declaration eminently.
- Very relaxed and very unemployed (or something like that). Hooah.
- Hating the snow Manchester has so abundantly blessed with. Or cursed. However you look at it.
- Had a lovely trip to Pakistan in November.

Obviously more details are required on every front and so I shall keep y'all updated.

Till then, Merry Christmas, enjoy the food, the wine, and try not to get drunk and beat your ginger stepchild senseless this year, mmkay?

- Zo

[Blank]

2009-09-12T03:13:00.003+01:00

I'm staring at this blank page now, wondering what to write. Where to start. What to say.

More and more I've found that I rely on my blog as a source of expression, where I say those things I would not want to say in person; perhaps out of fear (of reproach, alienation, whatever) or just plain over-thinking everything (which I do often, sadly).

And so I'm at a junction. Do I say too much, or do I stifle myself and walk the motions. Toe the line and pretend like everything is fine, and we all go on our merry ways?

Don't get me wrong. Everything is fine. You aren't going to pick up the paper tomorrow and read about an estranged Pakistani boy going on a shotgun rampage (not my style - I'd go old-school with an axe, word). But at the same time, 'fine' is a ridiculously objective expression. Taking it's most generous definition, it is an expression characterising accomplishment, elegance or refinement. And at its most bland? Peachy.

But enough said about all that. Fine I am and fine all things are. I guess the real message I wanted to put out there today is that things in the life of one Zohaib Hashim (deleting the appropriate formal titles here *giggle*) will be changing. Some will see them, some won't.

I think it will all work out well in the end. If not, I may have to drastically re-imagine just what 'fine' can mean!

- Z

The Etiquettes of Groping, and the Simplicity of the Male Mind

2009-08-31T17:33:00.007+01:00

So I was out with some friends on Saturday, and as friends do, we launched into vast intricate discussions on social norms and interaction - namely the picking up of girls and boys (which is strangely a fairly common topic for me to be found talking about... not that I'm actually any good at it. Anyway, I digress). A few of the points really stuck to me.

1. Groping

This is not so much encountered by guys. We almost never get groped by girls (and by that I'm excluding the obvious crazies or those so drunk they have no idea what they're doing), and gay men pretty much understand the importance of personal space too - and are probably more civilised than the rest of us put together, come to think of it.

Anyway, so yes, being a big believer in the idea of personal space (particularly because I'm the type who gets rather claustrophobic), the prospect of intentionally reaching out and touching some one's body in a sexual way entails, at least for me, that a degree of permission be present. Call me old fashioned, but the idea of sexual assault just doesn't give me wood in the morning.

That said, my friend was lamenting the lack of gropage that had been coming her way of late. After all the jeering and macho comments were done (no night is complete without offering to grab someones bum) it really made me think; girls, you really don't have it very easy when it comes to dealing with us boys.

We're (for the most part) rude and overly friendly with our hands.

It makes you wonder though; were mankind to one day suddenly stop groping one another, would all women, like my friend, eventually yearn the feeling of a sharp slap on the ass, a feeling that, when applied more generously, they did not perhaps fully appreciate?

Food for thought.

2. The Male Mind

Women worry far too much what men think about them. That is a fact.

They worry about what we think of them, what we'll think of their hair, of how they're dressed, and so on and so forth. Most of this tightly bottled crazy they don't really show you - especially if you're on the receiving end of their interest.

But hey, come to be friends with a few of them, gain their confidence, and whoosh, it comes spilling out like sand from a bag. The degree mental trauma I have suffered answering "Oh will he like me" questions is unbelievable.

But yes, I feel a little clarification is in order here. Men only 'really' need 4 things from a woman:

1. A Challenge - no guy (at least no guy worth dating) wants a girl who gives him everything he wants on a silver platter, with a side of threesome. No no, make him yearn it - it's denial after all that makes him want it all the more, even if he didn't want it much to begin with. We all are essentially rebellious - we always want what we can't have. We enjoy the thrill of the hunt. We are lions in the wild, not the 'kittehs' in the home (though knowing my cat, I fear there may not be much difference).

2. Promise - not like verbal promises; that gives away all the fun. I mean promise in the sense that you possess enough mystery and enticement to keep them wanting more. There is always that unsaid statement that there may be more of a little something something if he's a good boy. And a good boy he definitely will be.

3. Control - Men for the most part like to be in control (or to at least think they are). Humour him - it's only genetics we're talking about here, after all. Every male inherently wants to be the alpha male, the proverbial leader of the pack. Only some realise it. But the more something matters to a man, the more protective and controlling he will be over it. It does not help that the aforementioned 'something' likes to actively control him back.

4. Space - This one CANNOT be stressed enough. The true key to a fast relationship-kill is to stifle the others space. Your relationship is supposed to be an addition to someones life; it isn't supposed to detract from it (though obviously over time it will replace some aspects of the old life with new things; but again, this is done voluntarily, not at knife point).

Do not call him the day you have a date. Don't text him 20 times a day wondering what he's doing. Don't give him the luxury of knowing you're constantly thinking about him. You may have slept with him but hey guess what, he's gotten half of what he needs from that relationship anyway (a.k.a. sex), and he'll be happy to go looking for the other half elsewhere if you smother him. He needs to come to you - like any good angler will tell you, sometimes you have to slacken the reel so the fish doesn't know it's hooked and won't attempt a break for freedom.

I guess that about sums it up. These are some rough points but hey they're the God honest truth. Obviously they won't apply every time all the time, but I think having had a fair bit of experience in said matters, it should give you a fairly rough estimate on how not to behave, ladies.

The rest of the conversation consisted of my friends taking stabs at me (being one of the only single people there). I don't know why I haven't gotten back on the horse yet, probably just taking things slow (it is a bit of a feeble horse after all - don't want to break it's back).

After all the jeering comes the inevitable period where all your couple-friends feel sorry for you (you're usually oblivious to the pain they think you should be feeling) and proceed to offer to hook you up or ask you your type.

And I think that is a promising point to end this entry on. What, you want to know my type?

I'll never tell. Probably because the list is so long it scares even me, particularly as I don't really have the pick of the flock going at the moment!

And hey, whoever said beggars can't be choosers definitely hasn't met the homeless man on Oxford Road, that's for sure.

- Zo

I Hate Saudi Internet

2009-08-14T12:05:00.005+01:00

I am on holiday.

Most people would classify this as a break from the norm - where you don't do things you ordinarily do and you go out and live a little.

The problem is I ordinarily get up to doing things I don't do anyway - in fact I make a note of trying something a little bit different every day (don't be shocked and awed, it's actually a lot simpler than it seems. It may be something as mundane as tying my shoelaces a different way, sleeping at a different angle, going to a new place, blah blah blah).

So coming to Jeddah on holiday. Fair enough I'm doing a lot of stuff I wouldn't be doing in the UK (in particular, just surviving in the brutal traffic) but unfortunately, unlike a proper 'getaway' holiday, I spent my high school years living in Jeddah, so if anything, it's kind of like just coming to a home away from home.

Obviously, things change (which in Jeddah goes mostly along the lines of new restaurants and cafes and malls, and old haunts perhaps being shut down or moving to bigger premises). And of course, boasting lovely coastal temperatures in the 35-40 degrees Celcius during the daylight hours, almost no one does anything during the day.

With all of this in mind, where does one turn to for comfort and solace? Ah yes, the all begirding un-judging gentle mistress, the Internet. She who allows me to bask in her glory unkempt and wild, insatiable.

Or something like that.

But yes, epic versing aside, I am a bit of an Internet junkie - in fact one of the things keeping me from joining the iPhone revolution is that I don't want to be connected ALL the time (just MOST of the time).

Alas, the Internet in Saudi Arabia leaves a lot to be desired. For one thing, we have a shitty 512kbps connection (to give you a rough idea, it takes longer to load a Youtube video than to watch it). Secondly, Saudi Arabia is one of those places around the world that chooses to heavily censor it's Internet so as prevent access to those materials that are deemed unsuitable for the public by the Government.

There is a strong argument that forcefully sheltering people from something will make them more inclined to want that thing, and in particular, were they to actually find themselves in a situation where it is readily available without reprieve, more often than not, they would tend to go overboard with it. This would result in a complete failure of what the original intention was anyway.

Now I've deliberately kept the above paragraph vague so it will fit just about every category of censorship: pornography, alcohol, political forums, etc. etc.

Not only is it censored (yes, there is another cherry on top of the existing cherry) but Saudi ISP's have done something funky to mess with Google as well, so that the search criterion is constantly kept at 'Strict' and my homepage is always in Arabic...

Thanks? I assume that's the response you'd want, since my other response can't be voiced here as otherwise my post would be filtered out on Google search.

And as much as there should be regular reform, especially to something as vast and continuously evolving as the Internet, I have found that fairly harmless sites (such as Megavideo or Veoh) have been banned for absolute ages.

So I must look to other resources for my entertainment. Cut off from modern cinema (yes, there are no cinemas in Saudi Arabia), and unable to keep up with the newest True Blood episodes online, deprived of the wider majority of Internet anime, and alas unable to resort to the old staple time passes that are Redtube and it's like, I guess at the end of the day all I can really do is sit and stare off into the desert very hard until I start hallucinating a naked ninja vampire battle or some other collusion (I have a vivid imagination, forgive me).

Or I can take the less dramatic road and watch Super Comedy - they have constant reruns of the Tonight Show and SNL *shrug*.

- Zo

P.S. Happy Independance Day to all you fellow Pakistanis out there.

I Love The Saudi Arabian Way of Life

2009-07-29T16:27:00.002+01:00

Often you will hear me complain and moan about things on this blog.

Not today! Today I'm going to give you a special treat; a rare occasion when I actually enjoyed something! Gather around kids, the knowledge bombing is about to start.

The way of life in Saudi Arabia is very laid back. It could be that the culture is very relaxed and not particularly financially driven, like life in the West.

It could partially be the intense heat - I've come very close to a heat stroke several times over the past years.

Whatever the case, things move at a very slow, comfortable pace, making it an almost ideal place for a vacation (barring ofcourse some of the personal freedoms you would enjoy elsewhere in the world).

Another thing that's quite interesting is the system of the weekend. Rather than Saturday and Sunday, the weekend here is Thursday and Friday, perhaps to coincide better with the fact that Friday is the major day of worship for Muslims.

Also, interestingly, Saudi Arabia is one of the few countries around the world where all businesses STOP during prayer times - that means all government facilities, all commercial firms and shops, all banks, etc. Luckily hospitals keep open!

This is sometimes seen as a nuisance, but at other times it can be a comfortable break - a bit of a slow down from the regular fast pace that life will often take.

Also, because of the intense heat, most places (shops, cafeterias, restaurants, etc.) Don't actually start proper business till after 5pm and are open till very late at night, thus giving Saudi Arabia a very interesting commercial night life. Couple it with the fact that alcohol is outlawed and you tend to get very creative ways of spending your nights, be it with shisha (water pipe) sat on the beach (an option here in Jeddah), or out with friends at some cafe or the other, catching up on gossip, or even sailing.

So yes, it's a brilliant place to visit. Definitely recommended. But possibly not the best place to live. The financial feasibility of this way of life just doesn't sit too solidly with me sadly.

-Z

I Hate Saudi Traffic

2009-07-23T13:16:00.002+01:00

Traffic can be bad in a lot of places. London, for example. I wouldn't drive in that city if you paid me (unless you were paying me by the hour, in which case fuck it, I don't mind going 5 miles an hour all day).

But NOTHING I have ever seen compares to Saudi Traffic.

There is no system of lanes. People drive all over the place. The far side line (generally for slower traffic) will at times be moving faster than all the rest.

Drivers in Saudi Arabia do not know what an indicator light is. They feel those little sticks protruding from the sides of their steering wheel are to hang air freshener trees from (a logical assumption, since they never use those lights).

Couple that with the lack of a lane system, and you can see the results. I saw a few lads swing across 4 lanes the other day without giving any indication, causing a lot of traffic to swerve out of the way.

There is no system of priority on roundabouts. Infact the government, finally seeing the problem, are busy demolishing all roundabouts and replacing them with traffic lights instead.

On the existing roundabouts, often you have to stop your car in the middle of the roundabout to let more people in to the roundabout. Nice.

Half the population do not use seatbelts. They instead plug the belt in first then sit on top of it, so that their car doesn't make the beeping noise that it makes when a seatbelt is not connected. I think manufacturers should make the beeping noise for when the belt is not connected, and when the belt is connected but the jackass isn't using it - a 10000 volt electric shock.

People like to go very very fast in very very shitty cars. The accident mortality rate in Saudi Arabia is off the charts.

People do not know how to park. I have seen a guy park in a parking lot horizontally taking 3 spaces. I've seen people park on the line and take 2 spaces. I've seen people leave their cars double parked and then gone off and fucked off somewhere. I've seen people leave their keys IN THE IGNITION and leave their cars to go do something else.

Saudi Traffic School consists of attending lectures for 5 days, 2 hours a day. Then you're given a VERY BASIC aptitude test on traffic signs (you're asked to identify 3 traffic signs and thats it), and then are given a quick tour on a test track to make sure you can drive OK. Often the instructors will pass a failing candidate anyway if you're nice to them.

All lectures are in Arabic and no one really gives a crap. I remember when I went to get my license. I spent all the time in those lectures reading The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan instead.

All in all, traffic is deplorable and driving here often makes me clench my toes in fear. Thus I hate Saudi Traffic.

I Love/Hate [Insert Location]

2009-07-23T13:13:00.002+01:00

So I'm a fairly well traveled person - I've lived in a lot of countries over the course of my as yet short life, and as most people know, it takes actually living somewhere (as opposed to just visiting) to get the real pulse of how a thing is (you get over a lot of the little annoying things as a tourist, but as a resident? Shotgun time).

I thought I'd get the ball rolling with Saudi Arabia.

So from time to time expect me to post up a little random post about different aspects of life here.

Should be fun.

- Zo

It's All In The Mind

2009-07-19T18:50:00.003+01:00

So I borrowed the title for this post from the words for an old game. I don't know how many of you readers will remember it - in fact, I'm not quite sure why I myself remember them.

It was from a time before I really got into the music appreciation scene - much abouts the time when I used to think girls had kudies too. In fact I remember this one girl I used to go to school with who always wanted to kiss me, and I kept coming up with excuses not to - it got so bad that I used to dread running into her during breaks between lessons.

Yes, other kids were bullied by bigger boys who wanted to flush their heads down the toilet. I was terrorised by a (in hindsight, relatively cute) girl who wanted a little bit of Strangelove (being the only brown kid in school was an interesting experience). Yes, how unfortunate, my sad and tragic life.

So yes, anyway, the game I pinched the lyrics from is Parappa the Rappa (one of the earlier games to come out on the Playstation when it was but a youngling - feel free to click on the link to see the song I'm talking about).

But yes, this post has (or is supposed to at least) be more about the statement as opposed to the origin of where I found it. It's all in the mind.

So many things stem from our personal perspective and viewpoint. Love. Hate. Anger. Fear. Most emotions, though considered counter logical and thus not directly attributable to the general activities the mind is thought to contribute to, are still generated through the various faculties of the mind.

Often our perception and thus direct line of thought will heavily contribute to the mood we are feeling at the time. Take the simple example of the flattering mirror. In most cases, this is a mirror slightly more concave horizontally than normal, resulting in a reflection that looks slimmer (which is most probably the desired goal for a fair few people in the world). Seeing oneself in such a mirror has an uplifting effect. On the other hand, seeing oneself in a store's window reflection may often result in one looking chubbier than usual - and more often than not, this has a severely demoralizing effect on a person.

A similar concept applies to most things. Often simply over thinking matters or allowing parallel lines of thought to intercede can lead us to feel down. This corruption process is pretty easy, and I guess I suffer from it pretty badly. It takes a couple of things going wrong to ruin my thinking mood - I say 'thinking mood' because ordinarily that is what I tend to do when I have nothing else going on - think. Think about just about everything and anything. And if I have things that bring me down at the front of my mind, it doesn't take long for me to start thinking that life is actually pretty shit.

I guess I just need to keep busy, and systematically just work through my troubles. Problems don't solve themselves after all.

Being on holiday will help me face a lot of these fears. Having a lot more time to myself means I have more time to explore the boundaries of my own mind and tackle down my ghosts and bring them into submission.

I'm confident it can be done. I guess at the end of the day this little piece is just an affirmation of my intention for action. If it's in writing it's more likely to be carried out after all.

Lets see how things play out. I'm going to have to be patient, and I guess till then, so will you (in regards to having to put up with my whining).

-Zo

Polly Von - A Tribute

2009-07-13T06:56:00.004+01:00

First of all a few special thank you's have to be given out.

The first cannot really be credited, as it is to the Irish folk history in general and the individuals involved in its development and revival over the past generations.

The second is to Dave (user name Kefera) on Youtube, who made a splendid cover of the song in question.

A little history lesson will be in order here then:

Basically back when I was 8-9, in the Third Grade, my teacher Mr. Barne's would sing us a pair of songs with his guitar. One was a rather jovial song about a motorcycle and a play on vowels, while the second was a very sad ballad about a young girl named Polly Von, who is shot and killed by her lover by accident, who mistakenly takes her to be a swan while out hunting.

As Dick Cheney as the story may sound, it's actually drawing it's roots from Irish folk history, and as such the lyrics, created by Peter Paul and Mary, were spawned from the tale.

Now, almost 14 years later, I had the chance to re-listen to the same version Mr. Barnes used to sing, and I have to say, it was very moving. A friend had me write my feelings onto a little piece of paper, then to hide that paper away and never show anyone what I had written (in the end the piece of paper was turned into a small boat and set free on a river).

However I feel this was not a sufficient tribute, and so I spent the past few months, on and off, working on a short story about the, well, tale.

It's not much, and it sure as hell isn't as good as the song, nor does it full justice, but I hope it in some way conveys the feelings it instilled in me when I heard the song (or at least, the inspiration it instilled in the writer in me).

All that done and said, here's the story.

Polly Von - By Zo Hashim

The gray shone heavy in the dusk sky, clouds weaved in like an intricate lattice over the golden shine of the setting sun. The silence was sundered by the single crack of a rifle discharge. Nature responded immediately, with a wild scurry away from the abhorrent unnatural noise. Finally there was silence, the waning echoes of the gunshot all that was left before there was silence once more.

*

I felt uneasy, lining the shot. I could see the creature before me, partially hidden in the underbrush, but the foliage was no camouflage – its bright coat of feathers shining white in the failing light. I knew I had to make this shot if we were to have meat tonight. Too many days had father and me gone with little more in our bellies than old potatoes and staling pieces of bread we had saved from my errands into town three eves ago.

I blinked and adjusted my aim again, my palms sweating. Something about this did not sit easy with me. I felt something compelling me to hold my fire. I could not explain the feeling at the least. Was I tired from a day’s tribulations and failings at hunting food? I knew not. I began to feel guilt settle in. Father would not be hesitating. Father was always a better hunter than I. Not since the cold last winter claimed his foot though. Now it fell on me to provide. I swallowed the lump in my throat and adjusted my aim once more.

Suddenly the swan began to move, and for a moment I felt sheer panic, feeling the opportunity slip out of my hands. The swan would fly away and I would be denied another day’s reward. Again I would have to stare at the sparse portion on my plate tonight and feel the heat of the shame in my face as my father would not look at me. My finger pulled on the trigger. I saw the white shape collapse in the brushery. Elated, I bounded forth to claim my kill.

*

She lay back against the tree, watching the setting sun, smiling as the last of its rays fought through the green canopy above her to create small warm pinpricks of light on her fair skin. About her waist she wore her apron, white as snow, as she sat; toying with the flowers she had collected, dreaming sweet dreams and thoughts of her love. A chill wind began to blow and she started, realising she had dozed off. The light was almost gone now and she wrapped her apron about her naked arms and head to keep warm, making to get up and head for home.

She heard the sudden sharp crack of the rifle and before she could comprehend what it was, she knew no more, falling to the grass beneath her, the last of the days light stroking gently her face as the light of life left her eyes.

*

I pushed aside the high branches of the shrubs, honing in on the faint traces of white I could still see through the thicket. Finally I was through, and pushed aside the last of the greenery.

At first I was not sure what it was, and then it began to dawn on me. Immediately my mind reeled to reverse the understanding process, wanting to plunge back into ignorance because the truth was too hard to comprehend.

Her fiery red hair lay in a mess around her, shadowing her face. Her eyes stared blankly up at the dark sky, the moon and the stars peaking through the clouds to spy on the heinous act I had committed. Her skin was soft and even fairer. Pale. Her white apron, always clean, that I had mistook for a swan, was splashed in red, almost as a painter would splash a blank canvas in a random way. But that was no paint, and that was no canvas.

It was she, Polly Von.

I stared, my breath caught tight in my chest. My lungs pounding viciously for respite, for me to breathe, but I held tight, unable to will any movement at all.
The sight of her lying blank, clawed at my sanity and I forced myself to look away, to look for some sign to verify that this was some dream; a terrible dream.

I turned back to her, willing the cold corpse of my beloved to be an imagining and not be there at all. But this was no dream and no matter how I willed my mind, the truth was not changing. I fell to my knees beside her and felt the tears flowing down my cheeks, a soft rain to the lush grass beneath me. I leant forward and touched her cheek gently; weeping bitter tears at the cold feel of her skin. I didn’t know what to do, who to turn to. Suddenly my thoughts turned to my father, and I knew I had to take her to him. I lifted up her lifeless body and carried her back through the underbrush, through the onset of the night, the red dusk waning away to nothingness.

*

It was pitch dark as I finally passed the bend in the pass. I was carrying Polly, the hem of her dirt streaked skirt wrapped around my arm, the stained apron drawn over her like a blanket. For a fleeting instant again I fancied an image of a fallen swan in my eyes, and I knew I must be mad. Tears were drying on my cheeks.

I passed the fallen tree. It had collapsed in the big storm that had hit a few weeks ago. Polly would sit on it, watching me chop wood for the fire at home. She would smile at me every time I looked at her, staring at me intently. I could almost see her face as I passed the spot.

I came to the cottage in the clearing. It was getting old now. My father had built it long ago, before I was born, for us and my mother before she died.

My father was sat on his chair on the wooden deck out front. He would often sit there, whittling shapes and small objects from wood. He looked up. His knife stopped whittling, mid stroke. The wood chipped slightly, leaving a rough ridge where there should have been a smooth unblemished finish. He struggled up, making his way towards me.

I carried Polly, collapsing at the steps to the porch. Her stained dress fanned out a little around us, creating a near perfect semi halo of white, dotted in the shining crimson, contrasted against the dark sands. I held her close again, defending the one I had failed, the one I had robbed.

“Father,” I cried, my voice breaking. “I have murdered poor Polly.”

I gently touched her cold cheeks, wiping away a streak of dirt against her cold, smooth skin. “I’ve killed my fair love in the flower of her life. And I’d always intended that she be my wife.”

My voice began to fail me and my father simply stood and watched a sad look in his eye. It was the look a man gave to the last spring he would ever see. The death of something beautiful that could never again be mimicked.

*

I sat by the lake. The purple of the sunset was fading now and the rising moon was bright and red. My eyes were dry and red, no longer able to produce tears. No longer willing to grant me the mercy of grief. I felt at the grown where the soil had now dried and hardened, where the blood of something precious had once fallen.

I raised my rifle slowly, turning the barrel to my mouth. Slowly I clicked back the hammer, closing my eyes and preparing for my final act.

A sudden movement caught my ear and I paused, looking up.

The pale beauty was sat on the lake, seductively glowing in the power of the moon. It rippled not on the water, seemingly as light as a feather, perhaps the ghost of what once was. It looked at me, with its shining eyes, eyes full of passion and meaning. And I hesitated. And in the blink of an eye it was gone, leaving me forever to wonder whether it had been but a swan, or the spirit of my true love, returned to stop me from ending my miserable life.

I looked down at my rifle.

I had to decide.

The End

Walking It Off

2009-06-17T02:10:00.003+01:00

Walking is good for you.

Let me make that clear from the outset. I fully endorse regular exercise. In fact, if you spend anywhere as much time in front of a computer as I do, you would think we should be dead by now, with our natural instincts and abilities blunted down from the sharp precision of the primal hunter to the gluttonous packaged-sandwich eating cretins we have become today.

So today I decided, "Enough of this shit. Time to walk." And so I walked to work. It was a pleasant 45 minute walk or so through the city. And since it was a fairly warm day, all the pretty girls were out and about in their dresses (which are becoming scandalously smaller year after year - I feel there must be a shortage in cloth supply somewhere).

Now, as a guy, I notice a few things in a woman right off the bat. This tends to vary from man to man. Some men pass judgement on the bosoms of the opposite sex. Others the posterior. Still others the legs. I'm not saying I condone, I'm just telling it like it is.

I go for nice face, and then once that criterion is satisfied, with the old thinker giving the thumbs-up upstairs, I will glance at the rest (I'm not one of those guys that stares - use your peripherals damn it!).

There are, however, a few things that will totally destroy a girl's image in my mind. One minute we could be raising a family of four and growing old together, and the next I could see one of the Gorgons before me (it's not that extreme, but you get the idea).

So what is this deal breaker?

There are several, I am sure, but I have identified two.

1. The way they talk. This requires a topic unto itself one day.

2. The way they walk. We shall discuss this one today.

Picture this if you will. An absolutely gorgeous girl, in a brilliant summer flower print dress. But then... she's doing the goose-step.

I'm very sorry but ew, oh no, no no no, no no, no.

No.

You must walk well to be lovable in my eyes. It doesn't need to be a sexy ass-swaying kind of walk or anything like that. It should just be normal and sensible. You should not look like you're marching to war, nor should you look like you should have go-go gadget wheels at the bottom of your feet.

A general message to ladies out there then. Please, we know you look lovely. You go to great pains to make it so. But have half a heart to make sure you don't look like Frankenstein's monster lurching down the road. It really isn't that hard.

Rant over.

-Zo

Sitting on One's Hands

2009-06-16T12:07:00.003+01:00

Sitting on your hands.

It's an interesting expression. If conducted literally, it cuts off the blood supply to your twin limbs and results in numbness - which can be argued to be useful or trite in a number of scenarios, depending how you look at it.

Now assuming it is a figure of speech instead of a declaration of literal intention, sitting on your hands roughly equates to being unemployed, idle, or bored.

I am all three.

Now I understand you've heard me complain about being bored, idle and unemployed in the past, but lets face it, I've always actually had something I should have been doing. Even now, I'm not 'really' unemployed - I do still work for the International Office at the University of Manchester after all (minimum wage sucks).

But I am idle and bored a lot of the time. Having finished with University, an integral part of what used to occupy my day (or should have at least), studying, or more accurately, procrastination, has been removed.

What are you left with when you can't even procrastinate? It's sad.

Still, I have set myself a goal - finish writing one of my novels by the end of the summer and find myself a publisher. It would be an interesting start to the next stage of my life having already accomplished one of my dreams... let's see how it plays out.

Stay tuned - I have a lot more free time now to think about breakups, lack of sex in my life, and other general nuances the likes of which I enjoy complaining about on this blog. Oh joy for you, dear reader.

-Zo

In The Basket

2009-06-01T22:32:00.003+01:00

Now anyone who follows this blog will understand my dislike for supermarkets and large superstores in general. The whole idea of people carting their trolleys around, buying their essentials... I don't know, it doesn't sit well with me. I can perfectly understand the approach Stephen King took in his short story The Mist (in summary: bunch of monsters, people trapped in a super store, go insane, blah blah blah). Do not watch the film. Do read the short story.

Anyway so I had a bit of a think about it, and I realised, I really dislike supermarkets because it subconsciously lets you see what people are like on the inside; sort of a spoiler ruining the end of a good book or something. And how do you know this? By seeing whats inside their trolley.

You'll find out that that fun loving girl/guy you hang out with only eats organic fruits and vegetable, yet wouldn't mind a (very hypocritical) donner grease-slab on the end of a night out.

You'll find that friend who is a total alcohol-induced mess at all points of the night buying bran flakes and yogurt.

You'll see that classy girl you met last week, buying copious amounts of buy one get one free goods.

Yes, don't deny it. Secretly we all pass a bit of a judgement after seeing what is in other people's trolley. It could be a 'yes, I approve of your choice. We shall be friends', or it could full well be 'Special K? How dare you! War!'

Nothing though is worse than a day when you just need to fill in the gaps in your groceries; you know, you aren't reallying buying a whole lot, just a handful of things that seemed to have run out.

Today was one such day. I had the misfortune of running into an ex girlfriend and her new boyfriend. In my hand I had two bottles of hotsauce, and a bag of seedless grapes...

Now, the question is, do you judge me?

- Z0

Keys, Wallet, Phone... and Condoms?

2009-05-29T21:34:00.004+01:00

Now every guy out there will know the routine I'm talking about.

You do it every time you get up from the sofa. Every time you're about to walk out the door. Every time you're about to leave a coffee shop or a bar or a club. In general, we do it pretty often.

That's right, it's the "check everything is there" routine. Most of us, remembering where we have stashed our veritable valuables on our person, generally (and often inconspicuously) perform the outline-pat down (just feel the outside of your pocket for the appropriate shape of the object... No, that wasn't supposed to be innuendo, but if you caught it, well done you).

Those of us who forget which of our pockets our treasures are within generally stop where ever it is there are, put on a furrowed brow type frown of confusion and thought (or as my friend Kim calls it, the 'curious boy' look). We savagely search our pockets, and after finding our missing items, give a little nod of satisfaction, a little ghost of a smile, and off we are on our way again. And everything is right in the world.

So yes, we do the pat-down. In my case, it's generally my phone and wallet first, and then a bit of a dig around for my keys (followed by a moment of panic when I mix them up with my change and can't seem to find them).

However, as of late, I've reintroduced condoms to my repertoire of items-carried.

Having been in a monogamous relationship for quite a long while, one kind of gets used to the idea that the relevant protection is available at home anyway. But in the gritty exciting world of being single, one often sees adventure and in the moment excitement (pfft yeah right).

No but seriously, despite the fact that I'm not exactly out looking to get laid, it's a fairly commendable practice to have condoms on your person... just in case.

A friend of mine recently had a run in with an STD (or STI as you Brits call them) and I distinctly recall earlier in the night myself and said individual discussing whether I could lend her/him a condom IN CASE. I had said of course. A bro is always there for another bro (there is no feminine for the term 'bro'. Sis would be ridiculous and lame, just like dudette does not work as a feminine for dude. And if anyone thinks I'm being chauvinistic and sexist here, well, whatever, sue me).

So yes, said friend did not reach out to me at the end of the night (probably because I went home at a sensible hour). But it makes me wonder; why am I, a person who isn't getting sex (and lets face it, probably won't be for a long time) still prudent and cautious enough to take the precautions, where as someone who is quite regular at the sport isn't - well, it's just sad.

It's like, if you live in a city with a lot of construction sites that you may need to pass through from time to time, people may think you're a little weird for carrying around a hardhat (though a slightly more extreme example since people wouldn't think you're the Rain-man for carrying condoms - probably just eager). On the other hand, if you worked on a construction site regularly and still chose not to wear a hard hat - well, you're playing with your own life. In this instance, the comparison to the construction site, I feel, is fully justified.

(P.s. the picture above is used to demonstrate the analogy, not as a source of the inspiration! Oh and courtesy New Zealand Aids Foundation).

So go on ahead, enjoy your promiscuity. And even if you aren't doing it twice a day every day, take the time out to buy some protection. God I sound like a public service announcement. *shakes head with a deep sigh* Oh and please, if you get something gross from someone and you need to tell your best friend, for the life of them, please don't mention all the dirty little details of how kinky you are in the sack.

-Zo

Suddenly One of the Cool Kids?

2009-05-14T15:57:00.001+01:00

So I've noticed that my hit counter has been going up by several hundred hits a day. In fact I think it went up almost a thousand hits over the past half a week.

While I'm flattered so many of you are visiting my blog, is there anything actually worth reading on here?

I guess I'll leave that to your able minds. In the meanwhile, enjoy. :)

-Zo

The British Dream

2009-05-08T12:03:00.005+01:00

Now this piece isn't really about the political theory behind 'the ***** dream', where ***** can be substituted (give or take a few extra characters) with the respective theory of your choosing. Be it the American dream, which is loosely the freedom to pursue and work hard to achieve your goals, or the more community based European dream, where self development and cultural identity are valued more than individual gain.

No, let's look at a slightly more generic and colloquial definition for what the dream concept is. In that sense, the American Dream is that which is constituted to having a happy and fulfilling life - the proverbial scenario with a wife, two kids, a dog, a microwave, and a big car on the driveway, all secured from the threat of nuclear annihilation (which was a big thing back in the day).

So we know what the American dream is. And in a very vague sense, we can typify what the European dream is. But what about the British dream? There seems to be something very lacking here.

All references made to the British dream tend to point towards the creation of a lenient and all-accepting society where people of difference may come together and find their common grounds. No reference is made at all toward personal or communal sex - all the emphasis is purely shouldered on a multi-cultural environment.

Sadly, much like the American dream, this concept is failing. More and more, events occur that make it difficult to achieve the dream. But what about the other things in life? There is, after all, more to life than not giving your coloured neighbours the finger every morning as you go to collect the newspaper (or uncoloured, etc. Whatever, you know what I mean).

So what about individual development in Britain? What about the pursuit of happiness? Let me try and phrase this as best I can with an example.

Several times a week I see a gorgeous young woman get on the bus with me. She's tall, in good shape, with pretty eyes and silky blonde hair. In fact everything about her barring the fact that she's got a muffin top every day makes her look pretty attractive. But the most worrying factor of this girl, who cannot be much older than 18, is that she has a baby with her. A baby rapidly approaching two years of age. Meaning this young lady probably had that child when she wasn't much older than 16.

It shocked me therefore the other day when she got on the bus with a friend, and they were discussing how she is pregnant again.

I am not a prude. I do not believe that there should be no sex before marriage, or the likes of that. But I do believe in social responsibility. Had this young woman not had a child at such a young age, her social responsibilities now would be very different. She would be contributing positively back to society as opposed to leeching from it.

Now that may be a very judgemental view. It may well be that she's happily married or in a partnership, her husband/partner earns a hefty salary and cares for them, and that she is actually living the dream.

But let's be honest, that's just sugar coating what reality is. And this is Manchester. Chances are she had a teenage pregnancy, her boyfriend at the time bailed, and she had to abandon her dreams of further education and a career to look after her child. Stretching it a bit? Maybe, but it happens everyday.

I'm not saying that people shouldn't have children. I'm just saying, they should wait till they're in a position where society does not have to care for them. There should be a balance - you give back to society, in the form of taxes and good moral behaviour, and in return, you gain the protection and respect of the society. If you earn minimum wage, have two jobs, and are well on your way to having your fifth child, you need a bitch slap.

I guess for all it's multiculturalism, the biggest failing in British society is that the social structure is collapsing. Society is doing more for the people, while they in exchange are getting fat - fat with laziness, ineptitude and in most cases, ungratefulness. The only way around it all would be to shear all that fat off. Domesticating wolves and robbing them of their ability to hunt makes them useless in the world. The same thing is happening with society in Britain - because the community is willing to do everything for the people, the people don't see an obligation to give back.

I'm being overly critical though of Britain. Such situations exist all over the world and it would not be fair to not mention this. And there are many exemplary qualities in the organisation of this country and community that a lot of places around the world could benefit from looking in to. Still, it's food for thought. If there's something very seriously wrong, shouldn't measures be taken to fix it? And if there isn't anything wrong, is a society where young children become parents really somewhere you want YOUR kids to grow up?

- Zo

Just Driving 'Thru'

2009-04-27T08:07:00.003+01:00

The more grammatically conscious amongst you will have noticed that my spelling of the word 'through' in the title of this post leaves a lot to be desired.

Others amongst you will not notice, having immediate recognition of the term 'thru' and having accepted it as your choice adjective (or preposition or adverb) for this evening.

Still further among you will be those who will be doggedly adamant that the word I am looking for should in actuality be 'threw'. You I would like to address first - seek schooling.

The correct word is indeed 'through'. Yet by and large, 'thru' is becoming a widely accepted term around the world, pushed forward by perhaps the laziest arrangement known to man - the drive-thru.

Imagine a time, if you will, before, when you had to get out of your car to attend to your various needs. Need the bank? The pharmacy? The grocers? No problem - you park your car, get out, lock your vehicle, and proceed on foot into said establishments.

Seeing it's rise in the 40's, the concept of the drive-thru revolutionised things - and not in a good way.

Now, no longer is it required to exit the comfort of one's vehicle to attend to one's consumer needs. Nay, you simply drive up, speak into a little microphone, and your goods are handed to you, already wrapped and awaiting payment. And this does not just extend to food. All over the world, the likes of drive-thru banking, pharmacies, liquor stores, (and in Las Vegas) the existence of drive-thru wedding chapels is a testament to the laziness of man.

But we saw it coming. When someone goes out of their way to create an invention like the beer helmet (I mean seriously, how hard is it to hold your own beer?), you know it won't be long before the next step comes along.

So where do we go from here? Drive-thru public toilets?

I really do despair some times.

-Zo

P.s. One accepted spelling of drive-thru is of course, the grammatically correct drive-through. Don't worry, I didn't overlook it, I just chose not to use it for irony's sake.

A New Fetish

2009-04-25T17:09:00.004+01:00

Now most of you who know me (and some of you who know me intimately *wink*) will know that I'm fairly open to experimenting with different things in the bedroom.

While it will still be a long time (read: eternity) from now when I allow myself to be the middle slice in a 3 layer sandwich (I'll leave that to your imagination to illustrate), I have tried a few things in my time. Be it a little bit of roughness, tying down, maybe a little costume play, and so on and so forth.

And I have to say, for the most part, that while deviant sexual practices can be fun, I wouldn't take any of them on to the extent where I would consider it a fetish.

Yet what is the dividing line? I like to think of it as similar to being the dividing line for being alcoholic or addicted to pot.

In the case of pot, if you find yourself buying it to smoke on your own, chances are you're addicted.

For alcohol, if you end up drinking for no reason (and usually on your own), there may be a problem.

For fetishes? I think the boundary is defined by who suggests it first, and how often. If you maybe once in a while suggest something a little bit kinky, hey, you're experimenting. But if you can't get wood without her being dressed like a hussy cheerleader or schoolgirl, then, well, you probably do have a fetish. Well done you.

Fetishes, unlike addictions, are not necessarily harmful (unless your fetish is beating the life out of women you sleep with, in which case you deserve a lethal injection). So similarly, they aren't something to necessarily be ashamed of. I guess at the end of the day it's the fact that the view is deviant from normality that makes you shun the possibility of social rejection. Heck who knows.

Anyway, whatever, this post wasn't even supposed to be about all that stuff.

I just wanted to share this cool website I found during my random google link trawling.

I present to thee: Tickling Fetish!

**** Link Definitely Not Suitable For Work ****

Anyway, just wanted to share that. Enjoy!

- Zo

And There He Goes Again...

2009-04-20T08:27:00.004+01:00

So, I'm single again.

Yeah, I know, it happened in like December, but I don't know, I wasn't quite comfortable talking about it. It's like, fair enough, but the world doesn't need to know.

But to be honest, I really enjoy being single. I think inherently I'm one of those people who are designed to be lover material, not husband material. Fair enough, if we hook up, I'll show you a great time over and over, but when it comes to making a commitment - hmmm I'd rather avoid it if I can. I'm too young to be tied down to a single person for the rest of my life, and that is, as they say, that. But then again...

Dating again is fun. Dating as a term seems to have two interpretations depending on which side of the Atlantic you're on (and this may require a little bit of Canadian input too because I'm not sure on their viewpoint). So yes, in Britain, the understanding of dating seems to be the existence of a relationship. Whereas for me, dating is that initial elimination process where you see a multitude of people and determine one who is suitable for you. It's not sleeping around or even kissing a lot of people - just seeing them in a potentially romantic context.

Sometimes you'll make an instant connection with someone, and you put everything on hold sort of to see if it blossoms into anything. But that kind of instant connection is very rare - often you'll end up dating someone who has an odd quirk or two that you have to get used to. Personally I think that approach is pretty unhealthy. And look at it from this angle.

If you concentrate all your attentions on one person, even when it's at the very beginning of a relationship, you try your level best to make it work - I call it the All Your Eggs In One Basket syndrome. It's simple human nature and applies to almost everything - the more you invest in a project, the more you have at stake. If, say, you spend your life savings on buying a business or something, you're going to be far more concerned for it's success than if it was a simple few hundred bucks.

On the other hand, seeing several people is like spreading your chance. A decent spread is the key to winning any gamble. A lot of things may be playing in your favour, but a lot of them at the same time may be working against you. Spreading the risk increases the chance of a successful connection. It's simple math.

That said, I'd like to think that there still exists such a thing as instantaneous attraction, strong enough to draw two people together inexplicably. Call it love, call it lust, that's your choice really. But there exists a trans-logical force that will make all your female friends go, "Aww." and all your male friends go, "Dude, where are your balls?"

Call it machismo. Call it lecherous. Call it your choice verb of sexual indiscretion. But at the end of it all I still believe that you should only be intimate with that one person you narrow down with in the spread. And that when you do get into a relationship you ensure that she/he is the only one on your mind. In a way, I guess that means I'm somewhat poised on the starting steps of commitment, so maybe one day I'll be ready for the real thing.

Till then, I'll keep playing the lottery and hope for my big win. And if a certain spread fails, well, it just means you go out and take new chances. Remember, there's no result if you don't take the risk, and so essentially, you have to stand to lose something if you want to gain something meaningful.

Makes sense? Not really. But that's how it is.

-Zo

From the Trenches

2009-04-15T18:11:00.002+01:00

So it's been a little while since my last post. The reason behind this has been kind of simple; I've had very little to talk about.

Now that isn't entirely true.

Sometimes you go through different things in life, things that have a profound effect on your character and change you in some ways. It doesn't have to be a good change or a bad change - often, change is just horizontal, and we keep moving forward, trying to come to terms with why we feel so confused on something that should be so clear.

At the same time, you want to talk and talk and talk about it. But that can both help and suck at the same time. Because when you talk about it to someone, more often than not you'll get an opinion back. And that opinion has the ability to change your own view and perception of events and actions. Sometimes that's the last thing you need - so I guess, for a little while, silence is needed.

Alternatively, sometimes you go through things that make you feel like you're an expert in handling them afterwards. But all around you people are still facing the same problem. You think, "Should I share my wisdom?"

But what if they just laugh? For many reasons, we don't share the greater experiences in our lives with those around us for fear that they will become alienated, and the recognition we fought for so hard in our minds may be mixed with ashes and dust.

I guess, at the end of the day, this post is just about keeping quiet and not talking about things you hold close to your heart. That's probably why it's so confusing.

Still, don't take it from me. The next time you find yourself confused or lost, and two different friends give you two different opinions on the matter, serving only to confuse you more, you'll know what I'm talking about. Take a break away from it all and churn it over in your head. You'll find you probably had the right answer, you were just afraid to grab it.

But grab it you will. Just at your own pace.

Now c'mon, give me a big smile!

Oh you can definitely do better than that one.

There you go! Nice and toothy!

-Zo

Sounds About Right

2009-04-01T08:50:00.002+01:00

Well no, not really. I have no musical talent afterall.

But well, you get the idea.

- Z0

France At It's Finest

2009-03-25T10:00:00.003Z

Words cannot describe how attractive I find this woman. Presenting Alizée Jacotey, the closest thing France has to a non-trailer-trash version of Britney Spears (I guess). She was also the inspiration behind the World of Warcraft Night-elf dance, but that little jewel of information was mostly for the nerds amongst us. 8-)

Incidentally, what is it about brunettes that makes my heart skip beats? Hmmm.

-Zo

Edit: As James rightly pointed out, the sight of gorgeous women is a veritable bane for my grammar. I shall endeavour to work harder at correcting this.

The Silence Says Enough

2009-03-24T09:29:00.002Z

As much as I do love the classic Simon and Garfunkel version of Sound of Silence, this remix really got my attention. I'm still looking for the version they used in Watchmen.

- Zo

What Phone?, and A Little Housekeeping for the Soul

2009-03-17T14:10:00.005Z

So anyone who knows me will know how I have little semi-OCD likenesses to various categories of action; in particular pertaining to the use of correct grammar. The number of times I've had an argument with my parents just because they have structured a sentence wrong, is, well... a lot-ish? I don't know, I don't really keep count.

But yes, one thing I have a major problem with is poor grammar and sentence structure. I feel all literature should be flowing and thus endeavour to use as robust a variety of synonyms as is possible. This sometimes does not play in my favour (particularly where dry legal prose are concerned - my work has often been criticized as being overly-whimsical).

That of course is one thing I've come to terms with.

Another oddity though is the way I organize my contact list in my phone (or phones, in the plural, since I seem to have been doing it since 2002 or so when I got my first phone).

So then, a brief history of phones may be in order (particularly because I realise I haven't really ever discussed this!).

What Phone?

First Phone: Nokia 7210 - Aged 16

Nowadays, it may be shocking to think that I didn't actually have a phone till the age of sixteen; but it was quite ordinary back then for kids to not have phones at all. In fact one of my biggest arguments with my parents as a kid used to be that why did I have to wait till I was 16, and then get a shitty phone, while my youngest brother got his at age 14, just the next year (and it was a Sony Ericsson P800 too grrr).

But yes, I feel I was too young for phones, particularly for a new one at that, as I... ahem... lost mine...

Second Phone: Siemens C35i - Aged 16/17

I LOVED my second phone. It was perfect in every way - black and white shitty display, only had monotone ring-tones, but durable as hell and strangely classy too. It was actually stolen from me after having it for over a year (I even knew who took it but I kind of couldn't say anything because our parents were friends and my parents were like just let it go it's not worth the hassle - it was a pretty cheap set after all).

Still, I miss that phone to this day, and it inspired in me a desire to have a classic old-age phone again one day. Sadly, that never happened.

Third Phone: Samsung X600 - Aged 17

I got this phone for my 17th birthday and fell in love with it. It had one of those revolving cameras that could take pictures of you or whatever was in front of you, had 2x zoom (which was brilliant back then), and something like 600 pixels in its oft grainy pictures. Sexual. It was also the first poly-phonic phone I had, but unfortunately Samsung at the time had decided that it was not feasible to hook up your phone to your PC for multimedia purposes, and the best way for me to take advantage of the polyphonic feature was to use the Record function to record a song as it was playing on my stereo system, then use that recording as my ring-tone.

Yes, my ring-tone for two years was a very grainy version of I Miss You by Blink 182. Except you couldn't really tell because phone speakers weren't that awesome back then.

Fourth Phone: Nokia 6680 - Aged 19

This has to have been one of my most faithful phones of all time. I only replaced it a year and a half ago, but I still use it actively because it's just so USEFUL.

I remember getting through high school using this one. Ah all the memories. Hundreds of pictures taken and most often ending up on my old blog. My ring-tone was, I believe, for a fair good amount of time, the Final Fantasy victory tone, which was inspired by the then new Final Fantasy: Advent Children film (one of the baddies has it as his ring-tone in the film).

I still use this phone whenever I use multiple phones or something for whatever reason (usually because some other network offers cheaper international rates, etc).

Though it is a pain to have to remember to charge two phones I tell you...

This phone also marked the advent of TWO CAMERAS (Yes, NOT one, but TWO cameras in your phone! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!) in my life, and this legacy was carried forward.

Fifth Phone: Nokia N93i - Aged 21

This was my first flip-top-phone, and has often been jokingly commented by my friends to be the perfect phone for me (though I don't know how much of it was actually just for laughs and how much of it was them being quite serious) because the entire front surface of the phone is a mirror which scrolls your writing across, etc. But yes, vain creature that I am, I would often use it to check my hair was looking alright, etc.

I haven't been as much of a photographer with this one, owing to the fact that it is tedious and clumsy to get it out, swing it around to camera mode, and then take a picture of whatever that was going on that was worth photographing something like 3 whole minutes ago (it is very slow).

So yes, that brings us up to speed with my phones of all time list. I expect I will be getting a new one this summer - so far I've stuck to Nokia's for a fair bit of my life, lets see where the next adventure takes me!

Another thing I've been quite firm on is that I always buy my phones - as I do not have a contract, I am not entitled to a contract phone (obviously). A lot of people see this is a big waste of money, etc, but I don't know, I just feel like it's really more YOURS when you pay for it yourself (indeed, it doesn't cost that much extra and you end up paying more for a good contract anyway). It may mean that I don't upgrade my phones as regularly as everyone else, but hey, I feel I get more enjoyment out of them. To each their own I guess.

A Little Housekeeping for the Soul

This part actually has nothing to do with the soul. It is still about phones. But it does have to do with a little tidying up and such.

Now, as I mentioned, those who know me will know some my quirky little pedantic habits. One of them, which I have done for as far back as I can remember from first getting a phone, was to always save a persons FULL name to my phone. So, say, for the case of my friend Kareem, it would never be just Kareem (even though he's the only Kareem I know), it would be Kareem Eliskandrani (his whole name, Mohammad Kareem Salahuddin Ahmed Eliskandrani, doesn't actually fit. I still consider it the biggest failing of the mobile industry to date). I think the only exception were my parents (who are actually listed as just Mom - ICE and Dad - ICE respectively; ICE standing for In Case of Emergency, a practice I took up sometime in 2006 because it apparently assists paramedics and such in finding your details and next of kin if you put a mention of it in your contacts list).

So yes, no nicknames for loved ones. Siblings, cousins, lovers - all with their full names. Often, because I tend to travel to a cadre of countries during the course of a year, I would attach a country abbreviation next to each name, or even the whole country name if there is space - e.g. UK for the United Kingdom, USA for the US, CAN for Canada, etc.

Now comes the problem.

What about all those random people you may meet on a night out? Or new friends you swap numbers with, or people you don't know so well?

My solution would often be to stalk out their full name on Facebook so that my contact list does not become sullied with inconsistency. But often, this is not successful. And so I resort to a different type of exhortation.

I describe the scenario in which I met said person. So for example, I would have people like 'Beth from Andy's Birthday 5th Av.', or 'Victoria Fashion Student from Font Bar', or even 'James from Work - Nando's' (obviously these names are fictitious... or are they?).

So yes, my phone either has a persons full name, or them described as fully as possible within the limited confines of the 30-characters or so allowed to names (again, biggest failing of the mobile telephone industry).

And it's always an interesting feeling the kind of reaction you have if say, after a few years, you go through your list, and names come up who you possibly may not have spoken to in years. Possibly people you never intended to speak with (something a lot more common with women - why the heck do you trade numbers if you don't want to keep in touch? tut tut). Possibly people you met on a night out who, in hindsight, weren't perhaps the best choice of new acquaintances to make (I have befriended chavs in my lifetime...).

And theres always a sad feeling, a rush of all the memories, just before you delete someone who you've lost contact with. Personally I have no remorse and always have a little guffaw. But that's just me ;)

So... am I weird or what?! What kind of quirky secrets do the rest of you have? Do share :)

-Zo

Taken Aback

2009-03-14T02:28:00.002Z

We were talking about the various school shooter kids that have been on the news lately. Apparently it's becoming a new fad to load a gun, kill a bunch of your old classmates and teachers, then shoot yourself in the head.

What really shocked me though is when my brother told me one of the shooter's had written something on his blog along the lines of "I can't go on. No one understands my potential or what I have to give to the world."

I was kind of taken aback. I'd said something along similar lines not a few days ago...

Note to self: Seek help if I start getting any weird delusions about going on a gun-toting spree.

-Zo

Incidentally I have had a ridiculous headache for the past few days. I hope it's an aneurysm or something.

Err, wait, should that last line have had a 'not' in there somewhere...?

A Little More Expression

2009-03-04T19:30:00.004Z

I've decided that I will be doing all the illustrations that accompany my short stories. Expect a complete revamp on the Art of Zo Blog.

I miss drawing and I can't remember the last time I made something I was really proud of.

-Zo

Hate: A Tribute

2009-03-04T16:49:00.002Z

One meets different people during the different stages of his or her life. Some people you stick with for long periods of time. Others, not so long. Some are very brief. Some are very prolonged. Some mean more, while others are profound.

But all our experiences and interactions with those around us help shape us into the people we are and the people we will become - it's a constant scale, dipping and rising back and forth, as the effect of each interaction is faced by us. Some make us temporarily weaker. Inevitably though, we tend to learn from all of this.

That said, I have always tried to avoid hating people. It's just not something I believe in because, well, you don't really hate the person them self, you hate what they represent to you; be it a bad run in, a poor history, or just major differences. These are all hate-able things, but an entity itself, a person, shouldn't be hated.

Then I realised what I was thinking and slapped myself.

Some people are just downright SCUM. Let's face it, you have a perfectly legitimate reason to hate them. And because it's an opinion, it's one you're perfectly entitled to as well.

So if some girl slapped you because you were drunk and asked her for a blowjob, go ahead and hate her - that is a privilege you have open to you (obviously this scenario can be modified to apply to women but I can't really visualise many women doing so in such a tactless way, so it eludes exhortation).

Fortunately this particular situation has never applied to me (I have always asked for my blowjobs in a very articulate way, thank you very much) but sitting down in lectures today, I was reminded of someone I REALLY hate.

This person will not be named. This is for several reasons:

1. My hatred is justified in my head. I do not need it rationalised by mutual friends or acquaintances saying, "Really? How could you hate her/him?"

2. He/she does not need to realise I hate them. They may attempt to imply it was simply a misunderstanding or a mistake and attempt to apologize for it. This is not acceptable in my head.

3. The matter requires no further identification or publicity than for me to express my hatred. So I shall grind my teeth and get on with it.

Now some of you who know me as a stone-cold emotionless villain will wonder, "whoah now, where did all this pent up emotion come from eh?"

To be honest, I'm not really sure where I've been hiding it, or why. I just never chose to show it very often. But things change. I shall make an effort to express my elation/despair/love/hate/confusion more often. It makes the games so much more fun.

No, I don't know which games I am referring to either. Just go with it.

Ahem.

So, yes, I hate this person. It goes back to a tale that took place one cold night in 2006. It was rather dramatic, and ended with me walking home, crying in the rain, with a broken umbrella, stopping at a bar to have a few shots, before going inside and vowing to myself never to... well, there's enough detail there to get you by!

So by some twist of fate, this person was sat right in front of me during my lectures today and it took every ounce of my sanity to stop me from slapping the back of his/her head.

To add pettiness to the equation (and I can, because this is my personal hate rant, so fuck you), his/her face also closely resembles that of a Great White Shark crossbred with some creature that has tiny eyes (none comes to mind at the moment, but if you can think of anything, feel free to make suggestions). Also, his/her neck is as thick as his/her jaw, but he/she has a narrower head at the top. All in all, pretty darn ugly.

I kept thinking up different scenarios on how I would punish this person.

1. Very carefully plot out where the very base of his/her skull is, then stab my pen very strategically so it severs his/her nervous system, causing said person to twitch about on the floor like a dying fish.

2. Climb onto the desk and deliver the HARDEST kick I could possibly ever manage to the back of his/her neck, probably snapping it instantly.

3. Use a saw to cut his/her arms and legs off at the elbows and knees, then stab a metal funnel into each gushing wound, forcing them to bleed out with no chance of the wound closing.

4. Call my ninja friends to decapitate him/her in the blink of an eye. One of those sword-is-drawn-and-sheathed-instantly scenarios where the bad guy doesn't even know his head has been cut off.

5. Wait till he/she grows up a bit and has children. Grind those children into minced meat then feed them to him/her. Powdered Child ala Bolognese (yes I know that statement isn't technically correct but whatever, it's my dish, I can name it whatever I want).

6. Covering his/her body with razorblade cuts then throwing him/her into a pool of water with a real Great White Shark, and seeing if the resemblance is enough to overcome 60 million years of instinct.

That's all I have so far. And I understand all of these are very extreme, but that is kind of the point. Chances are I will never actually ever carry them out, so I'm forced to enjoy them played out in the confines of my mind.

If anyone can think of a few other delicious ideas, please feel free to pass them my way.

Thank you nurse, I feel a lot better now. Sponge bath time? Wieeee!

-Zo

... And in Other News... I Give You Horrible!

2009-03-03T02:40:00.002Z

This is quite possibly one of the best musicals I have ever seen - shame that it's only 40-odd minutes long.

Cheers Maja for encouraging me to finally watch it - I had dismissed it as a flash in the pan and never bothered before, but I have to say, I can really relate (in some ways at least).

I give to you: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.

Put together during the Writer's Strike back in Hollywood last year, it was widely applauded as a massive web success - real shame I only got around to watching it now :(. Hats off to Neil Patrick Harris.

P.S. I haven't embedded the links as you can't enjoy it properly (poor layout on Blogspot and all that).

Instead I have popped down all 6 links here for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!

- Zo

ACT 1

Part 1

Part 2

ACT 2

Part 1

Part 2

ACT 3

Part 1

Part 2

The Wheels on the Bus... Run Over the Elderly, Women, and Children

2009-03-03T01:43:00.002Z

That was perhaps a little bit of a sour title to a post, but I feel it sufficiently gets the point across.

Today I was sat on the bus, going into university. I noticed the bus driver. He did not return my jovial "Good morning!" greeting (I had had too much coffee). He just glared at my bus pass, sized me up, then nodded so slowly I imagine Dirty Harry would have a tough time picking it up.

Then as we were going, I recall him pulling up to this one stop. And this elderly lady slowly hobbled up to the bus... only to find the doors shutting in her face, and the bus driving off. And as the bus drove past I saw her face in the windows - it was a broken look of a person used to abuse - curse you Britain for mistreating your elderly! If you're going to have them live past 65 at least have the decency to still treat them like people.

So I thought maybe the bus driver had just not noticed her. I looked up at him - and realised that he was watching her and smirking.

I was literally shocked.

As I child I perhaps had a bit of a privileged vision of bus drivers. Ours were always hired by the school and tended to be kindly men - much akin to perhaps Postman Pat merged with Santa. They would always wish us a good morning and welcome us onto the bus with a fuss. School was exciting and magical yes, but the first part of the day was the bus ride in.

Buses now are horrible. You're lucky if you find a place to sit. No one talks to each other - even if you're with someone you know, you tend to keep your conversation to a minimum, as if there were spies everywhere out to thwart your schemes. You'll maybe manage to find a newspaper to read on the way in, but it will have been butchered by some dickcheese who got his hands on it before you. You know what I mean?

Now bus drivers are like a middle-aged Postman Pat who has alcohol problems and his wife just left him for another woman. They're always pissy and rude; like somehow they were supposed to be doing something more than driving a bus. A solution to that would be to quit driving the fucking bus and go out and do this 'more'.

Honestly though, don't take it out on innocent old ladies, or any other customer for that matter. A lot of people rely on you to take you to where they need to be - deadlines and appointments may also be involved. You have the sole responsibility of making sure your service operates smoothly and to the convenience of others - could you not derive joy from the fact that because of you, everyone else's day can go smoothly too?

Seriously, stop being such fucking assholes. Here is a picture of the Magic Schoolbus. I don't know why it's relevant, but meh, I've just been thinking about it all day.

- Zo

Well I'll be Twitter'd!

2009-02-27T04:38:00.004Z

So I thought I would check out what this Twitter thing is all about. Apparently you can post status message updates instantly and everyone from around the world can see it. Best of all you can do it by simple text message.

Could be good fun. I put a feed up on the right of my blog. If all works well, I'll be able to update you every once in a while as to what I'm doing with my day! :)

-Zo

An Episode of 24: Featuring Zo

2009-02-22T03:59:00.005Z

Clearly the title is a little misleading. This is not going to be a screenplay or something like that. Instead, I decided that in the nature of 24 (having one episode to represent each hour of said day stretched over an entire series). However instead of just featuring one hour, I thought I would feature two... so, err, this would technically be 2 episodes of 24... but whatever, if you're pedantic enough to notice that you're a fuckhead anyway.

Here goes! This is an exact depiction of how my day played out Friday. Obviously I'm prone to exaggerate and to make it easier to sift through the jewels and the bullshit, I... well, no, I'm not going to help you differentiate at all actually. Good times.

Episode 1: Task 1

9:50 A.M.

I had two major things I needed to do in the day. One started at 11AM precisely, the other had to be finished in some sufficient time before so as to afford me enough time to also make it to 11AM errand in time.

I set out from my house, promptly forgetting my house keys and rushing back in to get them. Then I remembered I had forgotten my phone upstairs somehow and climbed up back to my room to fetch it. Got into my car and for some fucked up reason, the key wouldn't turn. It was like something had frozen the mechanism up. I forced it gently a few times, taking the key out, cleaning it, locking and unlocking my car (I don't know what I hoped to achieve by that...). Eventually I said fuck it and forced harder. The key resisted and resisted and when I felt I couldn't possibly turn it any harder without my fingers bleeding the key turned accompanied by a snap sound (obviously whatever was blocking it got the fuck out of the way). I started the car and set off.

10:09 A.M.

I arrived to the University campus and began to look for a place to park. With a horrible sinking feeling I realised none of the free-for-one-hour parking spaces may be available.

[At this point in the tale a little interjection is required. England poses several dismal problems for anyone choosing to reside in it (English people, not knowing better, choose to live with it). Two prominent ones (especially for motor vehicle enthusiasts) are that the roads are TINY and built in the most unorganised way possible. I'm talking about lanes leading straight forward into brick walls, lights for every direction, and a fuckload of other idiotic measures that no reasonable government would expect their reasonably uneducated population to endure.

The second major problem is parking. I have literally had entire days ruined simply by the prospect of finding somewhere to park. There are parking lots - they're just never conveniently located and they charge enough to make Satan bow his head in shame.

Interjection over.]

Luckily there was one slot available so I slipped (rather skillfully I may add) my car into it, and ran 200 meters to the Student Services Centre, where I had to get a document made (part of my first errand). Now you may ask, "Zo, why didn't you set out earlier?" And my response would probably be, "Because the lazy fucking people at Student Services like to lie in a few extra hours. Some of our lectures start at 8 while they open at 10 and still have the nerve to be rude."

I went in and got my thang. Popped over to the library next door to get a photocopy done also. Part 1 of errand 1 accomplished. I looked at my watch.

10:25 A.M.

I ran back to my car and started it. I had to get to a post office to finish the final part of my task. I drove to the nearest one I knew - and typically there was no parking. There was a Hospital nearby though and I conveniently slipped into the Passenger Pickup Only stop off area and left my car there. I'd only be gone a short while - hopefully evading clamping or a fine!

[If you're reading this and you're a policeman/traffic warden/vigilante, that last segment was all fictitious. Honest!]

10:29 A.M.

Ran into the post office and bought some envelopes. Proceeded to organize the documents I had to send off and with the kind help of the lady behind the counter, eventually got everything sent off. Score. But I was breathing heavy - I'd been running everywhere all morning with a thick coat and a scarf on over a wool-weave shirt. (This part is important - remember it!)

10:39 A.M.

Done from the post office, I looked at my watch and realised I could very possibly be late. I ran back to my car, pulled out, and drove towards the parking lot I had chosen to pay the exuberant amount of parking fee for... only to promptly be stuck in traffic. Finally the traffic moved and I got to the multistory and parked my car.

[Now you may wonder why I needed to move my car so much but the simple fact is, even in places you can park for free, there is a time limit, and almost NOWHERE is free at 10AM. Fuckers.]

10:53 A.M.

Realising I may well be late I began to run. I ran between a pair of university buildings, through the foyer of another (shouted at by a guard for running in the process) and then proceeded to very rapidly cross a busy road (I did not run. Remember kids, look both ways - death by bus is not fun!). I got to a big set of stairs and sprinted up them, finally arriving, panting, out of breath with a stitch in my side, to the Legal Advice Centre, where errand 2 would begin.

Final Time: 10:59 A.M. (Or just about. Fuck off, no one cares about a minute here or there).
Total Distance Covered: From Chorlton to the Library, to the Post Office next to Tesco's to the Parking Lot to the Legal Advice Centre... hmm a combined distance of 7-8 miles I would reckon, throwing in all the time I spent running too.

Episode 2: Task 2

I walked into the Legal Advice Centre and found the conference room. At this point, I feel it would be appropriate to explain what exactly I was doing there. This is a commonly used film plot device, where you will have things going on that you cannot understand until halfway into the movie, and then you think, "Oh, so THAT'S why she was running." (I'm thinking about the Matrix here as an example).

So yes, the background. I decided I would help out at the LAC this year. One, because it provides excellent hands-on service in dealing with the law, and two, because I felt that it was important that I gave back to the community in some way. I will effectively be a power-leech for the rest of my life, sucking up every one's hard earned cash on the path to forging my little empire. That said, I felt a little free advice to those who need it couldn't hurt.

My friend Kim had also volunteered, and so we partnered up together to get a case to work on. Kim insisted that the first case we handle be one concerned with family law; and that it was. Essentially a case involving an aunt wanting to reestablish communications with her nephew who was now up for potential adoption or some such (I can't really go into too much detail here, forgive me).

Friday 11:15 A.M. was when we were scheduled to interview the client and thus my rush to get in by 11 so we could be settled in and ready. I was told not to dress too formally, so I had chosen on this day a charcoal gray pinstriped shirt and a pair of suit trousers to go with (I looked sexy).

Now here is where the problem begins.

Because I had been running so much and been wearing a thick coat and a scarf on top of it... I had... well... sweated... a LOT. Upon removal of said external articles of clothing I realised with shock (and a very audible gasp from Kim) that I had a massive sweat patch on my chest, my back was soaked, and my arms and shoulders were rapidly bailing.

I fell into a feral panic, wiping at it insanely with a napkin, but obviously that fixes nothing. Then I spied a pedestal fan in one corner of the room and running to it I crouched up against it and turned it on full blast. I'm glad that all the blinds in the room were done - had they not been, it would probably have looked like I was cuddling a pedestal fan. Ahem.

Finally enough of the sweat dried for it not to be evident on the front of my shirt (my back was still soaked but I did not plan to show that to the client anyway!) and I took my place. We conducted a sterling interview and afterwards rewarded ourselves with a little sandwich from the Sandwich Bar thing in the Precinct Centre (where I continued by flair for making the most ridiculous sandwiches by ordering a mint lamb with spicy beef sandwich, topped with potato salad, peppers, mushrooms, and beetroot).

All in all a very eventful morning. I almost feel for poor Jack Bauer.

What I want to know is: what roll on does he use?

-Zo

The Jiggle of Coins and Pieces of Lint

2009-02-16T22:24:00.002Z

So an old school friend and I recently got in touch and have been catching up as of late. Barring the obvious moments where she scares the life out of me, Franki is actually quite a caring person, and this post is a little dedication to her.

Franki will be abseiling down the Hilton Hotel in Newcastle on the 19th of April. Don't worry, it's not because she's crazy, but rather in support of Daisy Chain Project Teeside, a charity dedicated to relieving some of the stress that autism patients and their family and carers go through.

I think its a wonderful idea, and it certainly shows a lot of courage. She's set up a little website that accepts online donations - so go on, if you can spare a few Pounds/Dollars/Euros/Yen/Rupees/Rubles/Buttons/Bottlecaps (Fallout fans will know that one), then go ahead and throw it her way and make her a happy little girl.

Either that or I'll unleash her upon you, and she can stir up a mean conversation about men getting raped and vaginal clamps... *shudder*.

-Zo

Clicky-clicky here! Franki's Charity Page

A Bullet for Saint Valentine

2009-02-14T23:06:00.005Z

I'm hoping I'm not the only person that will snort at the (seemingly) clever play of words I orchestrated on the title of this post, manipulating the name of one popular punk metal group (if you don't know who I'm talking about, ignore me completely).

Now originally, this post was going to be a bitter diatribe on the foolishness of Valentine's Day, how it is effectively becoming more and more commercialised, and more of a day where couples can rub it in the faces of their single friends (only to spend the rest of the year sighing and living vicariously through the promiscuity of said friends. Come on, you know it's true).

So yes, this was originally going to be a hate-crime against Valentine's so bad that the good Saint would turn over in his tomb and shudder.

But then I paused.

And the reality of it is, despite the obvious Darwinistic advantage couples gain on this day, and the commercial functionality of the event, I don't actually HATE Valentine's Day. In fact, as per most traditions, I healthily encourage it - after all, some tradition is better than no tradition.

No, what I dislike I think would be my own personal circumstances on this day this year. Being single may or may not suck, but whatever the case may be, if you're single and it's Valentine's, it is almost an expectation that you're going to be sucking a long one. And I'll tell you how you know this to be true:

Every time one of your friends asks you what you're doing on said 14th of February, and you respond, "I dunno, I guess just spending some alone time (or any variant thereof)", the typical response will be, "Awwww", or ,"Cheer up", or, "Go out and get laid you dozy c*nt"(I have some strange friends). So however undramatic the day would have been otherwise, every one's pitying focus tends to drive you into a worse mood - it's like being chased around by a big cuddly bear offering you a kiss and a big box of tissues so you can cry your eyes out, continuously whispering "go on, cry it out", while gently patting your shoulder. You may not want to cry at all, but when that fucking bear looks at you with those big eyes that look into your soul you drag out every bad memory you have by God you cry like the day you were born.

So yeah, it's like that, but obviously not as bad. I didn't spend today crying and tripping over my own feet, but I did spend it feeling like there was a particularly dastardly cloud hanging over my head and Death was my new best friend for some really strange reason. It was one of those days where you're driving down a road and you wonder, "Why exactly do I bother living?"

Obviously, the answer is never immediately clear. You can always just shrug, say fuck it, and drive your car off a bridge or into the path of a train. But the more sensible among us (I would like to think) would take some time to think about it, and you'll eventually find a whole host of reasons to keep going. Life gets really boring after a while. It's just the way it is. It's up to you to find what's dragging you down and fix it. And if it's dead weight you're carrying around, then shed it. It's a slow poison but eventually it will drain everything you have in you - only carry a burden as far as you can. After that, no one can call you a quitter.

Obviously this has many applications - the reality behind the Valentine's Malaise isn't that it makes you feel down about your romantic lack of success - rather, it focuses on how various facets of your life itself aren't working out; targeting your happiness, or lack there of.

I refuse to let Valentine's get me down. It's just one day. And this downtrodden rut isn't where I'm from, nor where I belong. I guess Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb says it best. If you can associate any part of your life to that song, it'll make you cry, but you'll feel all the better for it.

When I was a child I had a fever.
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I got that feeling once again.
I cant explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.

I have become comfortably numb.

- Zo

Storm Clouds A-Callin'

2009-02-10T21:47:00.005Z

Today has been one of those days.

You know what I'm talking about. Trust me, you do. You know, when you've been having a terrific week or so going, and you're getting everything going your way. And you know it won't last, because lets face it, people aren't cut out to be happy ALL the time (you need that sadness to give more meaning to the good times).

So you just know, the longer things are going well, the harder the fall is going to be when you have that downturn of luck/fate/kismet/whatever-you-wanna-call-it.

It's been building up, and today was the climax day for me - and I'm hoping it ends now because it's well pissing me off.

Here's some of the things I've endured over the past few days:

1. I was walking to campus and I slipped on some invisible ice. Luckily I didn't fall and crack my skull open (it was only early in the down-cycle after all), but I did do a little chicken dance as I tried to gain my balance - mercifully, successfully, as I was stood in a little crowd and my falling would probably have been followed with a round of applause and laughter. Fuck all of you.

2. Public International Law. What a let down. The lecturers are boring and all non-native English speakers (ordinarily I would not complain at all, but where your job is to convey, in English, to a vast number of English speaking students, an idea or philosophy, it becomes very difficult if you aren't clear). Also my arch-nemesis is teaching it, but we won't go into that any further.

3. Law, Literature, and Art. Where do I start? The material is interesting, but it's a bit constricted. It's as if Professor Kearns (the fella teaching us) understood how vast the scope for philosophical thought was on the subject and deliberately narrowed it down to a very fine scope - something which he actively does in seminars as well by curbing your line of thought if it strays too much. Though it keeps things relevant, it leaves a lot of questions unanswered. And so that begs the question; are we learning, or are we just having a flurry of ideas thrown in our face to see how many stick?

Secondly, his book. OH MY GOD. That is the maximum scope of expression I can use to describe my vexation and vehemence at the ridiculousness of having a print-on-demand book for a course that's already started. For starters, there is a two week backlog on people waiting for the book, and the geniuses at Blackwell's have no idea when they'll get it. Completely headless chickens. Luckily they managed to find a copy from somewhere-somehow and I very clueless received it on Monday and was told to not ask too many questions... fair enough. Also, the book is a glossy covered 200 page punt coming in at £54. Fucking ridiculous.

4. I fell down the stairs today. That doesn't need elaboration. My ass hurts. My hand is chafed. I was terrified. Stop laughing, it's not funny.

5. I almost got hit by a fucking tram. It was, to be fair, my fault entirely. I was coming up on a red light and I sort of blanked out mentally for some reason and only just hit the brakes after going into the crosshatched area you aren't supposed to enter when it's a red. Half of my mind said, "fuck it, drive through." But I resisted. Just as well - a tram drove by at 30 miles an hour a second later. It would most definitely have hit me if I'd crossed. My car would have been wrecked; I would probably be lucky to never be able to walk again. Food for thought there.

6. I was about to pass out at the gym today. After having an extensive chat with my trainer we determined my problem was that I wasn't eating enough. This kind of doesn't go well with the fact that I'm there to lose weight, but anyway, he explained to me what I should be eating more of and how often and when, etc. to maximise energy release to get the most out of my training. Okie dokie. I feel totally owned today though. Looking forward to a long nights sleep.

7. On my day of terrible-ness, not one of my friends was free. :( Everyone had plans for the evening! I wanted to go watch Role Models (which I will now be doing with Mark tomorrow), seeing as how I think I'm the only person on the planet who STILL hasn't seen it, but there you go (yes, I exaggerate). Not to mention multiple cancellations and I was left sitting at home alone this evening. Depressing.

8. I had to pop something in the mail today that I was sending abroad. I got to the post office at 5:32pm. The sign said it closes at 5:30pm. I pleaded with the man on the other side of the glass door to let me in but he just shook his head in a smug, minimum-wage-earning kind of way. Finally I scratched at it till he came to ask what I wanted, and I enquired as to how many stamps I would need to send my letter off (normally I preffer sending things recorded delivery abroad, as its quicker and more secure but I didn't have too many options here). He opened the door a crack, snatched my letter, weighed it, brought it back, told me the amount, and slammed the door in my face. I trudged off to a nearby shop and got the number of stamps I needed (plus one extra to hopefully convince the nice postage people that my letter wasn't worth the pain of losing) and I dropped it in a postbox, thus setting it off on its epic journey to its final destination.
... It is very possible that I am a little over-expressive at times.

9. I dropped my lunch. It was a lovely panini I bought from Happiness Sunshine Cafe (that little sandwich shop in the Precinct Centre). No happiness for me. No sunshine either, to be honest.

10. On my way home I almost got bit by a dog. Fucker.

11. I'm exhausted but I don't want to sleep. Figures. I think I'll watch some comedy or something on Youtube till I'm a little more tired (irony).

Here's to hoping things take a turn for the better soon! (Why the fuck am I so optimistic?)

-Zo

Concentrated Nostalgic Goodness

2009-02-01T22:28:00.004Z

Yay so my exams are over, but that has unfortunately left me a lot more time to think; an activity I am not particularly fond of lately, sadly.

However something I have recently taken to is reliving some of the happier memories from my childhood - from a time when I was young and the biggest worry I had was coming home from school and still having enough time to watch all my shows AND play outside all before it gets dark!

That said, I have recently been re exploring some of the shows I used to watch as a kid and have come to a conclusion - cartoons were so much cooler in the 80's and 90's!

I feel a few examples would illustrate it best. Here are some of my favourites!

1. Silverhawks

2. ThunderCats

3. M.A.S.K.

4. Transformers

5. Captain Power

(I used to love this show but the badguys 'digitising' the poor innocent survivors would scare the life out of me!)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=M678PVOf5F0

(Sorry, couldn't embed as the only video available had it disabled!)

There are loads more, but really, just lack of space and the fact that it would spoil the exploration for me is keeping me from posting them all. Still, if you remember a cartoon or a show you used to watch as a kid, be sure you mention it in the comments to this. It's always fun to relive happy memories!

- Zo

P.S. My blog entries are automatically uploaded to Facebook, so if that's where you're reading this and you cannot see the embedded player, just follow the "View Original Post" link and it should get you to here!

The Next Cycle

2009-01-27T19:49:00.003Z

The 26th of January marked the start of the Chinese New Year. It is, to the best of my understanding, and what a quick skim of Wikipedia has taught me, a five day festival, so it isn't belated if I say this now:

Happy Year of the Ox, Bitches!

A lot has happened this past year. Some good stuff, some bad. All stuff I'm greatful to have experienced on the journey that is life, at the end of the day. We do have to travel it alone, and it is unfair to expect others to bear our burdens at any time when they don't want to - you carry your own baggage, and if you have enough problems that you need to stop for a bit and take care of a few things - get rid of some of those things weighing heavy on you - then you go ahead and do that before you carry on.

So yes, being single again is a little odd, but that's just life I guess. I'll just keep going and living it the best way I can, and staying true to the standards my morals and limitations exert on me, and hopefully things should work out well in the end. The same goes for University. Just do what I can, and no one can fault me for it.

So yes, year of the Ox! It is also an Earth year, and Yin aswell (the darker half of the Yin and Yang duo).

I would make guesses on what all of that is supposed to mean but I have no clue. At the same time, I don't really care. All I do know is: It's my life to live, and my destiny to mould. Nothing should be able to coerce that that isn't induced by me.

Expect a new post soon; one I'm rather looking forward to in fact. It's a short story I'm trying to finish (infact the hardest short story I've ever written), and... well I'll give you more details later!

All the best, and keep smiing.

Zo

P.S. I stumbled across this and I absolutely had to share it!

A Question of Policy?

2009-01-15T22:16:00.004Z

Andy and myself were at the cinema a few days ago watching Defiance. It was a boring movie and I fell asleep halfway in; at some point between Daniel Craig questioning his ability to pull off a Russian accent and lead his people like Moses did, and the 'Forest Jews' denouncing some of the more core sentiments of their faith.

Now there's one thing you have to hand to a lot of Jewish folk out there, and this goes for Muslims too - a vast number of them are very faithful to their respective religion, following it to the letter. It is arguably the only two religions in the world ((other than the oft laughed at Catholicism) which is sometimes looked down upon by the more 'modern' vestiges of society because of their very ancient traditions and practices.

So anyway, as you do, after leaving the cinema, Andy and myself engaged in a conversation about the general plight in the world. This was further discussed the next day with my friend Mark, and the topic of conversation drew towards the latest big hot spot in the world at the moment - Gaza.

Mark then proceeded to ask me a rather interesting question. He said, "What do you reckon about Israel itself? Do you accept it's existence? What about the current conflict?"

This made me pause and think. And my answer?

Israel as an entity has existed for just over sixty years now. I say entity because some countries around the world have still not chosen to accept it as a state. But let's be realistic - Israel is now a full fledged country, and no matter what anyone says, denying it's existence will not make it magically disappear. The first step to opening a successful piece dialogue is to recognize the other party's capacity to be able to hold that dialogue. It isn't rocket science.

Secondly, Israel's major claim to attack has been the fact that rocket attacks have been going into Israel from the Gaza area. Now in no way am I condoning what Israeli forces are currently doing in Gaza, but think about what some other countries would do. If regular missiles were fired into the US or the UK from a neighbouring region, what would happen? Chances are a full blown conflict, with troops marching in. Putting aside the general finesse with which British troops fuck things up, the US forces have a template standard pattern of levelling the landscape; payback, and then some.

For there to be any chance at peace, the threat of future attacks must cease. In this sense, the militant forces in Palestine are at fault. Their intention may be to defend the Palestinian people and to fight for their freedom, but the sad fact is that by launching those attacks, they give the IDF a reason to march in with their tanks roaring. It doesn't matter where the world's sympathies lie - at the end of the day, in terms of military rules, Israel are acting in 'self defence', however twisted that is.

So I've talked about what's wrong with what Hamas are doing. But what about Israel itself? For a country so strategically placed amidst a cadre of potential foes, along with the general sentiments towards Israelis in the Middle East, it's safe to say they don't exactly sleep easy at night.

Still, they keep pushing poor action after poor action. As the proverbial powerhouse in the region, they essentially have the political throat of the region in their grasp and could manipulate it easily with a little bit of finesse. And she would probably find that were she to create solid, working links with her neighbours and shows the goodwill required to get over the past, she would find that a lot of her neighbours would be willing to assist in finding a solution to the Palestine problem. Sadly, Israel seems to have some kind of a chip on their sleeve and a penchant for shooting first and denying it later.

Still, Israel and Gaza is just one of many conflicts tearing at mankind today. But the question is, shouldn't there be a body to help those who need it, and protect them from cruelty and suffering?

Enter the UN - or at least, the original purpose behind the UN. I was more shocked than anything to see the response Secretary - General Ban Ki-moon had to the crisis. Previous humanitarian catastrophes had been met with swift response. Genocides were punished and the oppressors were put down.

Ban Ki-moon, like an absolute moron, speaks to the media about trying to preserve the societal infrastructure in Gaza, and how Israel should abide by UN conventions. The IDF went so far as using banned white phosphorous munitions ON the UN compound in Gaza, then calmly pretended it never happened.

It's sad that the real powerhouse that could have done something about the conflict straight away chose to sit back and make little splashes of noise. The US couldn't do much. The UK were effectively just clearing their throats and pretending not to be noticed. None of the Arab states could have done much. The unifying body of the UN, with its wide umbrella and authority to impose peacekeeping forces, chose not to perform the SOLE duty they should be concentrating on.

Now the war is over and Israel is allowing aid into Gaza. And the UN is getting ready to raise funds for relief projects in Gaza. All the statistics are coming in. 10,000 homeless. 1,300 dead. They're treated just as numbers though.

I think we need a stronger backed leader in the UN. Someone who won't be afraid to put his foot down to stop injustice.

The very first article in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights is:

"All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood."

Article 3:

"Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person."

Article 5:

"No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment."

And finally, Article 7:

"All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination."

It just makes you wonder; what use is there for a body that cannot abide by the simple statutes it purports to follow? The UN may as well rip up the Declaration and wipe their collective asses with it.

I've said what I had to say.

-Zo

Well You Do Know Better So...

2009-01-11T18:17:00.003Z

Am I just missing the plot here, or is Facebook really hinting towards what it wants me to do? Oh well I always trusted Facebook before so... I guess...

No.

But seriously, I miss the time when Facebook was unadulterated and didn't have bullshit spam and ads everywhere.

Lets go back Facebook!

Reconciling with Consumerism

2009-01-11T14:08:00.004Z

So as of late, I have been absolutely terrified of going to the supermarkets. Perhaps this is inspired by the fact that I almost nearly always have a break down at the local Asda. It could also have been that during my shopping, I would have too much time to think, and thus mope.

I decided it was about time that I sorted this out. I don't have a phobia of supermarkets, or people in general, so it is silly for me to attach stigma to a social place of gathering.

I put on some decent clothes and drove down.

I did my shopping, and that went really well. No breakdowns, no moping thoughts. I didn't buy anything sweet or fatty (personally that makes me very proud) and then I got to the checkout tills.

The one I was queueing at was being served by this small redhead. Me and her had a pleasant chat about the horrible weather (it was minus 3 that night I believe) and how busy Asda always was. I found myself smiling casually and interacting perfectly normally - something I was hoping I hadn't forgotten.

In the end me and her exchanged pleasantries and we went on our merry ways in life. Now I don't know about you, but when an event in my day goes well, it makes me think positively about what the rest of the day is going to be like, and that's always a good thing.

And I guess one major positive is that I don't have to be afraid to go to Asda anymore. And regardless weather I never see the friendly red head at the till again, I am confident that I would be able to carry out the same confident and pleasant level of conversation with anyone - despite the obvious unease the situation would be putting me under.

It's a strange thing really. One minute you're out buying fruit and vegetables. The next you're theorizing about the whole concept of human interaction under strained circumstances!

One a slightly brighter note, I've been enjoying going to my new gym. I work my ass off and hopefully, that will work my ass off (oh look at the brilliant play of words there - I am awesome).

I tried my hand at boxing the day before yesterday. I came out of it with strained shoulders, strained back muscles (the latissimus dorsi, for those who know what I'm talking about), impact bruising on my knuckles and hands, and shock sprains on my forearms. Throw in a bleeding knuckle on the left hand and a split lip and you realise the boxing didn't go so great.

Which was funny because I was actually just hitting a giant punch bag as hard as I could. I guess it got tired of it and said, "Right, I'm hitting this asshole back."

-Zo

The Great Commentator

2009-01-07T14:03:00.006Z

I recently noticed that I talk to myself in my head fairly often. Usually it's just living out conversations I would like to have with other people some day on funny topics, or living out possible scenarios for future encounters (sexual of course - just kidding!).

But there are few things I enjoy more than having a good peruse of all the junk mail I get in a day. There's nothing quite as satisfying for the inner voice than having a good roast at some of the ridiculous emails you get. It really is rapidly becoming a favourite pass time. Here is a screenshot of my inbox today.

I shall now run through each of the items as I would do in my head before I delete them.

Vistaprint: I've been selected? Really? Oh wow, thank you! I'd just like to thank my mom, and Jesus, and society... (I could go on all day)

Instant Facelift: Well I had been noting a slight sagging... Of course If I looked twenty years younger I would just look... two.

Fat Blasting Ab Rocket: HELL YEAH! SIGN ME UP! Oh, whoops. ("Accidentally" deleted)

me - She Likes It From Behind: Ah, don't we all? Er, GIVING I mean. I don't receive... except on weekends...

Tim Sherwood: Well I had been feeling a bit under the weather... perhaps some Xanax... or Viagra!

me - Make every woman want you!: Really?! WOW! SIGN ME UP!

R. Allen: You're going to make me rich in 90 days? YAY! How did I get so lucky?!

Anyway that's just a few. I'm generally more creative so you'll forgive some of them being a little bland. And if you can't, book a hotel room and I'll make it up to you with a lap dance, some ice, and a bit of whipped cream. :)

-Zo

Aftermath

2009-01-06T21:25:00.005Z

There is a popular saying: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

Paul Rudd, as the Surfing Instructor in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, instead says, "When life gives you lemons, say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail."

My approach to life would be somewhere in between I guess. Fuck the lemons, but don't bail. Instead don't accept what you've been given and work for whatever it was you were originally after (be it pears, apples, bananas, coconuts, etc. etc.)

Never thought you'd see the day when I was using fruit in analogies, eh?

So yes, I had the dreaded conversation with Emilie, and it didn't go the way I wanted. I guess at the end of the day she was just tired and scared and taken too much damage from our relationship really. I guess a lot of it could have been fixed - it still can - but we make the choices we make, better or for worse. If it's meant to be then it will one day, but if it isn't - well, what will be, will be (that's the fourth time I've said that today!).

So the past few days have been very retrospective. I've looked at my life with a keen eye and decided what I want, when I want it, and how I'm going to get it. Here are the following immediate goals.

- Study hard. Not long left before the exams and I have plenty of time to bitch and moan when they're over.

- Sculpt myself. There's an image of me in my head. That's who I should look like on the outside.

- Polish my self confidence skills. Lately I haven't been loving me very much, and that blows. I must return to Zo roots. Narcissism must once again reign supreme.

- Finish writing one of my books. This has become priority-one for me, and I hope to have one finished before two months or so.

And that's about it. I'm not sure where all this energy came from suddenly. A day ago I was utterly spent, not wanting to think, feel, move, even breathe. I just wanted to be dead. But I guess there's still a lot left in life for me to try and I'm not ready to go down just yet. If life is going to spit in my face I'm just going to smile and politely tell it to fuck itself as I make headway in the way that I need to be.

I still have to:

- Own my own sports car. I'm sick of driving other peoples'.

- Have a child! I would make an excellent father (it doesn't show, but trust me).

- Have abs! I was very close around a year and a half ago during the summer, but then I discovered apathy and World of Warcraft. I'm back on the warpath now.

So on my mission to get fit I went to a new gym today. It's called GL14 and it is, I have to say, one of the finest gyms I've ever visited. I look forward to getting started tomorrow.

The trainers sat down with me and said, "what is your goal?"

And I was like, "I want you to sculpt me into a god. Also I feel like shit and I think that I have no future. I want you to punish me and make me cry for mercy and make me hard as rocks so I can take any punishment thrown at me."

The guy laughed but we shook on it. Sounds like a binding contract to me. If he reneges, I'll sue!

Right that's all I've got. This post is mostly for people to stop thinking I've gone insane and killed myself. I'm not fine, but I'm not as bad off as earlier either. Don't worry about me! Save yourself!

And maybe one day we'll be able to look back and smile at it all, and snuggle by the fire, content with what we have.

-Zo

Idiocy

2009-01-03T20:24:00.000Z

What is the definition of an idiot?

Someone who shoots themself in their own foot?

Someone who steps on their own trap?

Someone who doesn't think ahead very well?

Someone who regrets something they did?

Well maybe not every time, but more often than not, if you do any or all of the above, you are a certified f***ing idiot.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am an Idiot.

How ironic. Let us pause to point and laugh while I go wallow in self loathing.

-Zo

2009 - A Year For Reflection

2009-01-03T02:59:00.004Z

The Mindless Rambling.

Wow, so it's been almost a year since I started this blog. Now I know I ignored it for like the first six months of the year (I'm a very bad parent) but eventually I got there, and well, since I put the counter up in September anyway, I've had around 1000 visits. Bless you, whoever you are out there, capable of putting up with my incessant bull over and over.

So I'm not one to believe much in resolutions. In fact, my personal belief tends to the fact that tomorrow will be only the next day after today, and I should treat it as such. The fact is, we change so many times over the course of a year that we rarely leave it as we began it, and even then, rarely in the way we had projected it. The more we try to distance ourselves from the immediate state of our existence, the more of a contrast we will see with the person we were at this time last year. Instead, why not celebrate who you are NOW and strive to mould yourself as you are NOW into the person you want NOW. Think about it.

Instead, thinking about anniversaries, I am instead reminded of the one year anniversary of my youngest uncle passing away - the first death of an immediate relative, and hopefully God willing, the last for a very, very long time. I know it was back in October, but I can't help thinking about it more than ever now. About not being able to say goodbye. About, shamefully, still not having visited his grave because I was busy with more mundane things.

Why would I remember the anniversary of a death as opposed to the advent of a new year, or a birthday, or a commemoration of a marriage or a relationship? Simply because all those things hold with them a variable. Indeed there is a survivability, and more often than not, one desires to see something through all the way to the end before giving up on it for a lost cause. And that finality? The ultimate constant that every human being must face - death.

But indeed, we are still alive now. And there live within us those feelings of survival. That desire to get what we hold precious and hold it close and cherish it. And that is the true meaning of life, I guess. Learning day after day that the preciousness of something isn't in how perfect it always is, or how happy it makes you, or how wealthy, or how proud. It's about how long you can keep it close to you and, when the time is right, learning to let it go.

Though obviously now isn't the time to be letting anything go (and I mean that in more ways than one - a little sexual innuendo there for those who aren't wondering if this is a suicide note).

Seriously though, this is getting a bit drab so I feel the tone should be lightened! Let us describe the festivities!

The Party.

OK so I had a bit of a rough time right prior to New Years and I wasn't originally planning to go out at all. But then my brother walked into my room, looked me straight in the eye, and said, quote, "Stop being such a sulky little bitch you aess-hoele." (notice the difference in spelling, designed to highlight the emphasis on stretching out the cuss word - because we have all decided that swearing is only cool if you do it like Samuel L. Jackson).

So we decided we'd go clubbing and I decided that I wanted to try my new bad boy player look - wearing this rather urban white hoodie with a blazer on top.

We parked the car at the only safe place we could - a fifteen minute walk away from the club in the blistering cold which Manchester has adopted as of late. When we got there the bouncers poked me in the chest, saying, "Nope, no hoodies." They then proceeded to berate me on my choice of clothing. ("What were you thinking?! Look at your cousins and brother - they're all dressed in nice shirts. Why are you dressed like a hooligan? What look were you trying to go for?")

... For once my wit failed. And when it's in front of a meathead with a less than average IQ, that's saying something. Instead I brokered a deal with one of the bouncers - if I went home and got changed really quick, he would keep us a place and a queue jump. He said go on. Score!

First things first - grabbed a cab and rushed home! Unfortunately, taxi companies seem to feel that despite the credit crunch, it is fully justifiable to charge double fares on New Years night. Despicable. 45 minutes and £36 cab fare later, I was back at the club with a different shirt on. Not a good start.

So we got in. We paid £25 a head for the tickets (£100 since there was four of us), and then... we couldn't breathe - there was literally that many people. Anyway, rushing through all the pushing and shoving, we finally got around to dancing, and in general having a good time.

That's when I came to a startling conclusion - one I would never have made at this time a year ago. I absolutely HATE drunk girls.

Like seriously, they almost seem to throw themselves at you, and when they do, you either feel guilty for having a bit of fun and a dance with them (since they obviously are too wasted to see how ugly you really are) or the stench of wine and pre-vomit in their mouths just makes you want to back away.

Still, all in all, it was a good party and me and the guys had a lot of good clean wholesome fun. Coming to the New Year countdown though - and I suddenly found I was the only person in the entire crowd that wasn't locking my lips with someone to consummate the advent of a new year with a bit of lecherous behaviour. A rather shy looking girl who was similarly alone gave me an inviting look, batting her lashes behind her thick glasses and scratching at a spot. I politely declined. Or, well, not so politely. I turned the other way and vomited down some one's dress.

Yes, that last segment was a bit exaggerated. Forgive me but I felt the story was getting boring.

Drove back home and got in at around 5am. Woo! And then we collapsed lol.

The Resolutions.

Now I did mention that I don't look at the new year as a special thing, but I do see it as the perfect time to wipe the slate clean. To get rid of your problems and fix the things in life that need fixing. Find the things you think are lost and set goals and aspirations you want to achieve - even if you know you may well fail in the process.

Such is life I guess. My resolutions will be as follows:

- Work hard and play hard. But mostly just work harder.

- Pay more attention to those who need and deserve it and strive to do the things that should be done (e.g. shoot dictators, help infertile couples have children, etc.)

- Finish one of my books. Probably the biggest challenge yet - especially because I have gotten an idea for a new one that is itching at me terribly and I know I'll have to start writing it before I can finish any of the other ones. That brings my unfinished manuscript count up to six now.

- Lose weight. I'm already on it. I met my friend Mark today and he assured me I'd lost some weight since he'd last seen me (some time in October). Good news I guess, though I can do better. I was well on the road to having a six pack last summer, and I don't think it's too late to start all over again.

- Meet more new people, both men and women. I need to diversify the group of people I hang out with, and weed out those who don't deserve my time or my patience. If you feel you've been a bad friend to me, chances are you probably have.

- Have a child. [Possibly deferrable to another year].

Well, that's that for now. Enough of my rambling. You probably have better things to read anyway.

I shall leave you now with a word, and that word is attention. And I seek it actively. Just look at this picture for proof.
I couldn't resist. Found the trench coat in a box and I had my hat... And well, the result is here.

-Zo

Consumer Utopia

2008-12-27T21:06:00.003Z

Alarm bells should be ringing if the entire business plan of many businesses is hinged on making the majority of their break even sales towards the end of the year, in their Christmas and new year sales. But sadly this is a reality.

I speak from personal experience when I say that the Boxing Day sales weren't that bad this time around (and having only gotten 3 hours sleep from the night before, I can confidently say that even at breaking point, it was just about bearable).

This year, according to experts, it is projected that ten major retailers in the United Kingdom will be in financial trouble, as due to the current condition of the economy they won't be able to meet their projected sales estimations in the holiday and Boxing Day sales.

Lets just pause there.

For retailers to be breaking even and then making a profit at 30-50% discounts, it means there has been a significant mark up on their products for the rest of the year. This is especially true in some of the more exclusive brand names, but is this necessarily the right way to go?

A lot of people may argue it's snobby and elitist - why should only the rich and well-off be allowed to enjoy the likes of Versace, Gucci, and so on? I however would place more emphasis on the simple economics of it.

The creation of the brand signature allows for the creation of exclusivity. This is often cited, but when you buy a Prada or a Gucci, it's not the article you are buying, but rather the brand name. In that sense, often articles made for as little as $10-20 are sold in the hundreds.

Where does the blame lie? Sadly, it lies in the principle of free Keynesian economics in a laissez faire market, where any supplier, if he is able to differentiate his product from those of his competitors, is able to therefore charge a unique price at his or her own initiative. If, for example, all black shirts were marketed as black shirts and nothing more, regardless of the label, then the fact that consumers will always chase the best deal will drive more customers to the cheaper of the black shirts available (afterall, the product is the same, so why pay more elsewhere?).

On that logic then, an Armani black t-shirt should cost the same as a black tee from Primark.

Now, though it would serve to turn the consumer system on its head, it would address the very real ditch that corporate bodies are getting themselves into in their desire to maximise profits. Often to avoid using the companies own finances, a loan will be taken out, and as a result, many of the companies who are facing difficulties paying off their creditors at the end of the year are going to face the very real possibility of liquidation.

But I guess in the dog eat dog competitive economy this is always going to be the case, and those no longer strong enough to make it will be cut down to make room for the next up and comer. A vicious circle, no more, no less. Yet who suffers more? Probably the poor consumers, who find they have to pay more and more money to buy the elitist respect that branded goods brings. Perhaps it's all good and well to say that only that can afford those items should purchase them, but at the same time it creates an inequality in society - is that democratic? Your guess is as good as mine.

-Zo

The Screen-name Effect, and Cyber Laws

2008-12-24T11:22:00.006Z

So the more informed among you will already know about the state of Missouri and their new cyber bullying laws. For those of you less up to date with the story, here is a quick summary.

A young 13 year old, Megan Meier, hung herself in 2006 after receiving hateful comments and abuse on her Myspace page. Basically a fictitious Myspace profile had been created, which was used to flirt with Megan, and later hook up with her in an online relationship. The 'fake' boy then initiated a break-up of sorts in 2006, stating that the world would be a better place without Megan. Clearly, that statement has been proven false, with 2008 ranking high on the list of mankind's least fine moments.

There was public outcry and the state of Missouri, with a population nearing six million, and the local government was quick to respond - passing new cyber bullying laws. The laws gather the concept of harassment over transmitted medium and instill criminal punishment to them.

Fast forward two years and 2008 sees a very public prosecution under those laws, with a 21 year old girl being charged for cyber bullying after sending hateful text messages and threats, including rape, to a 17 year old girl, who had allegedly had some form of relations with the 21 year old's boyfriend.

Now here is the dilemma? Are the new laws going too far? Some would say yes. They would argue that note passing and threats face to face have taken place since way ages ago, and that suddenly making it criminal under the guise of harassment is stretching it a bit far.

I disagree though. Perhaps in some cases the law will go too far, and it will the be judiciaries responsibility to ensure that this is not the case, but it is also very important because nowadays anyone can say just about anything on the Internet. Here is an example.

"I hate jews,hispanics, moslems, and blacks.
They should all burn and die." - Uber1337haxz0rz

Now blatantly the comment that was just made is offensive, and to a very broad spectrum of personalities and groups at that. However, who is Uber1337haxz0rz? How would you find him/her? Would you go to town hall and search birth certificates for someone with that name?

The sad fact is that you can't, because in all likelihood (unless said individuals parents were really stoned when they named him/her) that name is just a screenname chosen because of the anonymity it presents on the massive forum known as the Internet.

Why would you choose to hide behind a screenname? It's simple - it allows you to mask your identity. For a lot of people, this means that they can also

change the type of person they are, and often internal insecurities and prejudices are shown when the inhibitors that identity imposes are removed.

So why is identity so important. Simple - for the purpose of culpability and responsibility. It argues that when you go out on the road driving your car, you are responsible for the control of your vehicle, and as such, if you act erroneously, you are culpable for the consequences. Similar is the case in all aspects of life - you are responsible for your actions and conduct and are therefore liable in some form or the other for any detriment you may cause to others - such is the principle behind individual freedom and liberty but without infringing on the freedom and liberties of others.

So what do I think about the newest case? Well, for fear of tainting the case, I won't say much, but I can comment on the law, and my view on that stands that though this is possibly one interpretation of the laws, on the face of it, the prosecutor may be going a bit far. True there is detriment and harm caused by hateful messaging, but there isn't necessarily an omission of identity (unless you argue the psychological effect of the victim never having seen the person making the threats, thus making her insecure around anyone in the public because of the perceived harm she may suffer from any angle - but again, that would be psychological harm of assault, not cyber bullying)

Still, more and more you found young troubled individuals resorting to the path of taking their own life as opposed to thinking of alternative solutions. Do I blame them? No, because they did not know better, and you cannot blame an individual for being failed by society - it is the society that bears the brunt of the failure and must learn from it. Missouri evolved in one way, and whatever my outtake on that may be, it is still a step forward, and I am glad that at least somewhere in the world, those steps are being taken.

-Zo

I'm Either a Chauvenist Or...

2008-12-19T22:39:00.003Z

So I was watching the new T-Mobile longer between top-up's advert, and I noticed something interesting.

The advert was based on how you'll be missed at your local shop because your top-ups last longer now. However there was one shot almost entirely, if rather subtly, dedicated to the nice oriental lady's ass as she was snuggling with the top-up-er.

Don't believe me? Have a look yourself. It's right there at around 26-27 seconds in.

-Zo

Missed Between Top-U..
Watch the ad...

Note: This is the only site I managed to find the video on and their player is a little shit. However the video seems to work if you hit refresh a couple of times (assuming you aren't one of those lucky bastards for whom it works on the first shot!).

If anyone comes across a more reliable video, let me know.

A Series of Assorted Events (Lame Tribute I Know)

2008-12-17T12:28:00.004Z

Aside from my blatant failed attempt at creating a clever title inspired by a much better series of books, I should say that the content on this post is, in the contrary, heaped with originality.

The more sharp among you will have noticed that I haven't posted anything in about two weeks. The more pedantic amongst you will also detect a slightly more jovial tone to the language of this text, in contrast to the oft bland and condescending tone my posts generally carry (these comparisons very possibly only exist in my head and I won't hold it against you if you don't see them - I'll just kill you).

So I guess a summary is in order to explain some of the on goings of the past week and some of my thoughts in general. There isn't going to be much of an order here so just bear with it (or fuck off).

Dad Arrives and the Coca Cola Debate

So 2 weeks ago my dad came down to the UK to visit, and just left this morning in fact. The situation currently is that because my little brother goes to school here, and he's a minor, my mom has moved to the UK too and is working as a hot shot overpaid doctor (can you tell I'm bitter? And I'm only fucking 22. Shows you how much of a whore I am for the green).

So yes, she's come down, and my dad is still working in Saudi Arabia, with his own job as a hot shot surgeon (again, bitter annotation inserted). Problem is, regardless of my constant warnings that it wouldn't be a good idea for the two of them to make such a drastic move so late in their lives, they thought it was an acceptable sacrifice for their family. So my dad was awful lonely, with the rest of his family rotting away in the Manchester cold.

Needless to say, he was very happy when he visited. After the regular happy ten minutes that we always have, it reverted to the good old times of telling Zo off for being a fat bastard, and for everything he does (note: if given a choice, NEVER be born the child of two doctors. EVERYTHING is potentially hazardous if not lethal).

So yes, I feel guilty about drinking Coke Zero now - which I was really happy about because it tastes just like regular Coca Cola (I would believe that, were I taste-impaired, but hey, it's closer to the real deal than Diet, so I'm not complaining), but has none of the sugar or calories (I'm blatantly advertising for them). Unfortunately, as pointed out by my dad, Coke Zero and Diet Coke both contain Aspartame, a chemical which - though with no concrete proof - has been linked to a number of illnesses that effect the body's metabolism, and most alarmingly, has the potential to cause brain cancer, lesions, and proliferates the possibility of acquiring Alzheimer's Syndrome (At this point I would be fired from the Coca Cola PR team). My father presented this to me in a rather humourous if condescending context; he said one day I'd regret making the decision to keep drinking coke. Then he said, "Actually, you probably won't even remember, will you, you idiot." (as a statement, not a question. Note the clever ironic assimilation of the disease into his statement.)

Anyway, splicing his comments to itty-bitty chunks, I must say, having done some research on the drug, it has startled me. Over on the US side the government has given the all-clear to the drug and the companies that make it (which is no indication what-so-ever of its harmful potential, but only of the fact that it is profitable, which, lets face it, is the only language the US government understands). A better indicator is that UK studies have shown links, a lot of major supermarkets have chosen not to stock the drug or its product on their shelves or in their products, and some countries around the world are actually banning the drug.

It's sad though that in the US, everything can be run by money. Lobbyists essentially reign supreme. I was having a debate with a jackass Canadian clown in one of my Freedom of Expression seminars this week about the issue of mass media projection of political issues. I was arguing that where political issues are concerned, advertising should be used solely to make people aware of the various sides of the political debate and leave it to them to make an informed choice about it. He (being the Canadian dickweed) was putting forward the view that free spending should be available and that those political viewpoints with more wealth and power should be allowed to influence the media much more, thereby "winning" (or tainting, depending on your view point) the political support required to put an idea into practice.

Such is the case with elections, particularly in the US, where the more wealthy and backed by powerful corporations candidate will almost always win, simply because of the much support and exposure him and his ideas are getting.

I hope Canadian dickweed continues to trust in political coercion, especially when the other side is more concerned with profit than the life of its consumers. When he's 65 and suffering from Alzheimer's and brain cancer, he probably won't remember any of this anyway. But I'm an asshole so I'm going to print all of this down and date it, and make a recording of our next seminar having the same discussion. And when he's on his deathbed I'll show him, and in the final moments of his life his eyes will open and he will weep tears of sorrow. And I'll lick those oh so salty tears off his face and revel in the sweetness of victory that can only be achieved by utterly destroying your enemy. Then I'll wheel my dialysis machine out of there and be on my merry rickety-kneed way.

Eid and the Family

It's funny how a lot of traditional families, regardless of how dysfunctional some of them may be be together, will still attempt to have big gatherings for prominent occasions. This particular event was Eid (which for the blatantly ignorant is a Muslim holiday much akin to Christmas - except we have it twice a year woohoo!). So all of my cousins from down in London and such had driven up to spend a few days together. Now I'd like to say we live in a comfortably spaced house - plenty big enough for the three of us that regularly reside there. But throw in 7 adult visitors and 2 small children, and you're just asking for trouble. Still, it was a terrific time, if a little hectic, and I'm pretty glad I had my cousins, nephew, and niece around. We all stayed up late into the night, formed little Rockband posses (I was noted to be the hands down guitar legend, thank you very much), and chatted and gossiped.

The Car

Yes, the rumours are true - I bought a car. It's a delectable little vehicle - a 2004 Honda Accord, 2.4 liter engine, full leather interior with an on board computer and satellite navigation. Throw in 8 speakers, a woofer, and a six CD changer, oh, and an essential for the UK - heated seats. Yup - my seats radiate cancerous warmth into my bottom at the touch of a button. This is the epitome of human technology. Sadly though, it has no reverse parking sensor (something I'd complacently become used to in both of my previous cars). As such, because of its long length, and the fact that everything in the UK is made for length-challenged motor vehicles, I often have difficultly parking in tight spots, often having to get out or deploy a 'spotter' (any poor soul travelling with me at the time).

So yeah, other than my complaining, its a nice car. Drove it down to London and back to give it a good break in (even though buying it second hand, it's already BEEN broken in, but you get the idea).

Still, the price of petrol, though it has gone down, is still a bitch - paying just shy of a Pound for a liter isn't fun. Plus, with the intended cut on oil supply by OPEC, prices are expected to rise again. Fucking corporations won't cut us some slack.

The Tux, The Commissioning Parade, and the Crazy Army Ball

So one of my cousins was an Officer Cadet in Sandhurst Military Academy, one of the more prestigious military schools in the country (and the same one the royalty go to I believe - don't know how his ass got in).

Anyway, so he was all set to be commissioned as a 2nd Lieautenant, which for anyone that doesn't know, is the lowest rank of commissioned officer there is. The commissioning event, therefore, is a significant event (in the words of Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket, "Today, you people are no longer maggots. Today you are marines."). There is a big parade in the morning where they show off their poise and military precision and discipline, followed by a black tie ball in the evening which was an interesting even to say the least.

I have come to one conclusion. The general English public is ill equipped for any formal event where liquor is involved. Because of the general unrefined nature of most (though not necessarily all) of the general public, as the night draws on, you will find the men, sprawled out on the floor, their dinner jackets and tux's covered in wine stains and footprints where they've been trodden over, and the women will have conveniently forgotten that their gowns are strapless, thereby resulting in frequent breast display. Furthermore, rather than anyone telling the poor woman her tits are hanging out, everyone around her popped their phones out to take pictures. Sad, but they'll make a buck or two I guess selling those pictures to amateur porn sites.

So yes, the event was hectic. And in the typical British way of things, absolutely no regard was given to the fucking shit weather, so the parade, and some of the later events of the ball, were held in the freezing cold and rain, with no provision for tents or rain sheltering of any kind. Also having driven the entire previous evening and slept barely 3 hours, I look terrible in all the pictures. Not impressed. Still, here's a good one I took.

The tux was a symbolic moment for me. To date in my life, I hadn't attended any event formal enough to warrant evening wear - and even then, often a suit would suffice. Still, I realised I would eventually need a tux and there was only one thing to do - BUY ONE!

Unfortunately in my rush (because I had to leave the next day) I ended up getting a slightly larger size and because I was not able to get it adjusted in time, had to look like a dweeb in a baggy outfit. Still, good times, and I reckon I clean up fairly well, if I do say so myself.

And that pretty much brings us up to date. University has ended in the run up to Christmas and I'm going to get off this PC now and go find something constructive to do!

-Zo

And Then There Was Sound

2008-12-03T02:25:00.005Z

"A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence." - Leopold Stokowski

So you'll probably have noticed by now (since the sweet little devil kicks in in about the same time it takes to scroll down my first blog post) that I have installed a little music-player-jukebox thing.

I don't know quite what it is, how it was made, nor how many little children were killed to feed the cretin who programmed it. All I know is that its haaaat. I can play all the music tracks I want without the hassle of having to first upload them to hosting servers and then linking them (you can probably tell that I haven't really put up media files in a while considering flash software is fairly standard now...).

So yes, that's that.

Forgive me, I couldn't seem to find a volume button. And as much as I don't mind my favourite songs blaring at top volume, I can understand how it will be unsuitable for those taking a sneaky break from work or those who just do not appreciate the same type of music as I do (we'll never have sex, mark my words).

Still, if you don't mind a bit of rock, have a listen. You can cycle back and forth through the tracks - I put up four or five of them before I got bored.

-Zo

"I wanna take you away,
Let's escape into the music.
DJ let it play,
I just can't refuse it."
Please Don't Stop the Music - Rihanna

__________________

EDIT: I've sorted out the sound, and the music doesn't start until you press play now. Hooray!

Bah - Humbug!

2008-11-29T23:48:00.004Z

“The sick are the greatest danger for the healthy; it is not from the strongest that harm comes to the strong, but from the weakest.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

So, I'm sick. Not in the sense that Katie pointed out - that I've reached a paramount of narcissism resulting in me referring to myself in urban jargon. "Sik!"

No, more in the "I have a ridiculous cold" sick. Now a lot of my female readers will be nodding their heads, smiling, in that all-knowing-condescending way that only mothers, lovers, and therapists can adopt. They think they get it, and they also think you're exaggerating.

You know what I'm talking about. Yes, that's right, the myth of the Man Flu.

Man Flu, by its bare definition, is the syndrome suffered by a male who has fallen victim to the common cold. His nose will be acting up, his throat will be scratchy, and his sinuses will be painfully backed up.

But apparently, the term is also loosely defined as men exaggerating the extent of the malady they suffer. Personally, I find that a bit sexist. So when a woman or a child suffers the same symptoms and goes through the same suffering, it's apparently OK, but us men are expected to suck it up and get on with our lives.

Kind of makes you wonder how far the feminist rights movement really has come. It started with equal rights and opportunities, and now, well, most men are ruled by the women in their lives. It's an interesting turn of events - though I wonder how it will be represented in the history books of the future? (Which will all probably be written by women.)

ANYWAY - So, I'm sick, and have been bedridden for two days now. And just in this little prelude - a run up so to speak - to Christmas, I wanted to rant about how many things un-Christmas-ey and unwelcome have actually been going on in my life.

1. University life is horror. Never before in my life have I been so TERRIFIED of not doing well. I guess when everything (a future as a lawyer, at least) is hinged on you getting a specific degree category, it can't be helped that you tend to worry. Plus another disadvantage is that I'm an international applicant to most jobs, and not precisely the colour of preference.

Now officially racism, and discrimination on the basis of colour or nationality are illegal and banned practices that never occur in the auspicious eyes of the law (and when it does it is duly found and punished). But the sad reality is that it does exist on a smaller scale and does serve to play some degree of preferential choice. Therefore, one must constantly strive to up the ante, as the saying goes, and at the end, have enough chips on the table to make the call worth while (God I need to get out of using Poker lingo).

2. The weather is DREADFUL. It's always cold and dreary, and as of late, the fog has decided to come on back home. There is no snow. There are no bright days. There is only frost, chill winds, and dark skies. I hate it. More and more I wish I was living in a more urban environment - tall buildings serve as ideal wind breakers!

3. Unfriendly people. You will run into these wherever you go. Rude customers at your place of work, people bumping into you in the street, and even people driving around in cars, flipping you off, or just general mumbling and glaring at you (when they really should be watching that red light, oh dear). Worst of all though is when you find someone that should technically be nice to you and supportive, but is rather in turn offensive, rude, and not very understanding at all. I'm not going to take any names, but my new personal tutor at university is a piece of work, and it took every fibre of my being not to smack him in the face when we were discussing what my actual, perceived, and potential levels of achievement were (and I still maintain the claim that he cannot read his own marks scheme).

Fucking asshole.

So after having a whole day spoiled by him, and falling ill too, I was wondering what else could possibly go wrong.

4. Christmas Shoppers. Christmas market was on. As cold as it was, we decided to go down and have a look. It was extremely crowded, with a few rows of very cramped narrow stalls. All in all rather disappointing - I would have imagined something far more imaginative. Tucked in one far corner (possibly the spot with the least possible revenue generation rating) was a little depiction of the nativity, with a baby Jesus with a rusted face...

Ok, so perhaps I am taking things a bit far. It is a busy time of year after all, with impending exams and all that, and the determination of our generation's future at stake, so to speak. So I hope I can be excused for being a little pessimistic. Still, I hope as the month goes on things get a little better. I would hate for Christmas to be lousy! (If only for the token value of the holiday spirit.)

Still, I would hope the Grinch and Scrooge positions are still open. That way if things don't start looking up soon I can begin my plans to subjugate the masses to my schemes of distress and terror (note: It must be that a Muslim intending to cause 'terror' does not necessarily mean he will go blow himself up. Thank you for your understanding and non-stereotypical open mindedness).

-Zo

"Is it bright where you are,
And Have the people changed,
Does it make you happy you're so strange?
And in your darkest hour,
Now all secrets fade,
We can watch the world devoured in its pain."
The Beginning is the End of the Beginning - Smashing Pumpkins

Top 100 Misheard Lyrics

2008-11-24T21:01:00.003Z

Lol a friend of mine found this list online of the top misheard lyrics for various songs.

Some of them had me laughing to the point I cried like onions were taped to my face. Here's the site.

And below is the complete list for your pleasure!

- Zo

Artist : Madonna
Song : Like a Virgin

Real Lyric : Like a virgin touched for the very first time.
Misheard Lyric : Like a virgin touched for the thirty-first time.
=======================================================

Artist : Robert Palmer
Song : Addicted To Love

Real Lyric : Might as well face it, you're addicted to love.
Misheard Lyric : Might as well face it, you're a d**k with a glove.
=======================================================

Artist : R.E.M.
Song : Losing My Religion

Real Lyric : That's me in the corner, That's me in the spotlight.
Misheard Lyric : Let's pee in the corner, Let's pee in the spotlight.
=======================================================

Artist : Bryan Adams
Song : Summer Of '69

Real Lyric :
Got my first real six string,
bought it at the five-and-dime.
Played it till my fingers bled.
It was the summer of 69.
Misheard Lyric :
Got my first real sex dream,
I was 5 at the time.
Played it till my fingers bled.
It was the summer of 69.
=======================================================

Artist : Moody Blues
Song : Question

Real Lyric : To learn as we grow old The secrets of our souls.
Misheard Lyric : To learn as we grow old The secrets of arseholes.
=======================================================

Artist : National Anthems
Song : Oh Canada

Real Lyric : Oh Canada, we stand on guard for thee...
Misheard Lyric : Oh Canada, we stand on cars and freeze...
=======================================================

Artist : Nirvana
Song : Smells Like Teen Spirit

Real Lyric : Here we are now, entertain us
Misheard Lyric : Here we are now in containers
=======================================================

Artist : Jimi Hendrix
Song : Purple Haze

Real Lyric : 'Scuse me, while I kiss the sky
Misheard Lyric : 'Scuse me, while I kiss this guy.
=======================================================

Artist : Creedence Clearwater Revival
Song : Bad Moon Rising

Real Lyric : There's a bad moon on the rise
Misheard Lyric : There's a bathroom on the right
=======================================================

Artist : Nine Inch Nails
Song : Closer

Real Lyric : I want to f*ck you like an animal You get me closer to god
Misheard Lyric : I want a duck shaped like a triangle You give a toaster to Bob
=======================================================

Artist : J. Geils Band
Song : Centerfold

Real Lyric : My angel is a centerfold
Misheard Lyric : My anus is the center hole
=======================================================

Artist : Pat Boone
Song : Speedy Gonzales

Real Lyric : Hey, Rosita - come quick - down at the cantina
they're giving green stamps with tequila
Misheard Lyric : Hey, Rosita - come quick - down at the cantina
they're putting green stuff on the killer
=======================================================

Artist : Manfred Mann's Earth Band
Song : Blinded by the Light

Real Lyric : Revved up like a deuce Another runner in the night
Misheard Lyric : Wrapped up like a douche Another rumour in the night
=======================================================

Artist : Bon Jovi
Song : Living On A Prayer

Real Lyric : It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not.
Misheard Lyric : It doesn't make a difference if we're naked or not.
=======================================================

Artist : Traditional
Song : We Wish You A Merry Christmas

Real Lyric : Now bring us some figgy pudding
Misheard Lyric : Now bring us some friggin' pudding
=======================================================

Artist : Bob Dylan
Song : Blowin' In The Wind

Real Lyric :
The answer, my friend,
is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Misheard Lyric :
The ants are my friends,
they're blowin' in the wind
The ants are a-blowin' in the wind.
=======================================================

Artist : Kate Bush
Song : Wuthering Heights

Real Lyric :
Heathcliff!
It's me, Cathy and I've come home
oh, so cold, let me in-a your window
Misheard Lyric :
Eeee-wheee!
It's me; I'm a tree, I'm a wombat.
Oh, so cold at the end of your winter
=======================================================

Artist : Will Smith
Song : Gettin' Jiggy Wit It

Real Lyric : Gettin' Jiggy Wit It
Misheard Lyric : Kick a chicken with it
=======================================================

Artist : Queen
Song : Bohemian Rhapsody

Real Lyric : Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me...
Misheard Lyric : The algebra has a devil for a sidekick eeeeeeeeee....
=======================================================

Artist : Ray Jr. Parker
Song : Ghostbusters

Real Lyric : Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!
Misheard Lyric : Who ya gonna call? Those Bastards!
=======================================================

Artist : U2
Song : Mysterious Ways

Real Lyric : She moves in mysterious ways
Misheard Lyric : Shamu the mysterious whale
=======================================================

Artist : Hymns
Song : Hark The Herald Angels Sing

Real Lyric : Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled
Misheard Lyric : Peace on earth and mercy mild
Goddamn sinners reconciled
=======================================================

Artist : Eagles
Song : Desperado

Real Lyric : You've been out riding fences, for so long now...
Misheard Lyric : You've been outright offensive, for so long now...
=======================================================

Artist : John Denver
Song : Country Roads

Real Lyric : West Virginia, Mountain Momma
Misheard Lyric : West Virginia, Mount yer Momma
=======================================================

Artist : Gwen Stefani
Song : Holla Back Girl

Real Lyric : I ain't no holla back girl.
Misheard Lyric : I ain't no Harlem black girl
=======================================================

Artist : Robert Palmer
Song : Addicted To Love

Real Lyric : ...you might as well face it, you're addicted to love.
Misheard Lyric : ...you might as well face it, you're a d**khead in love.
=======================================================

Artist : Starship
Song : We Built This City

Real Lyric : We built this city on rock and roll.
Misheard Lyric : We built this city on the wrong damn road.
=======================================================

Artist : Bryan Adams
Song : Summer Of '69

Real Lyric :
Standing on your mother's porch
You told me that you'd wait forever.
Oh and when you held my hand,
I knew that it was now, or never
Misheard Lyric :
Standing on your mother's corpse,
You told me that you'd wait forever.
Oh, and with the hammer in my hand,
I knew that it was now or never.
=======================================================

Artist : Foo Fighters
Song : My Hero

Real Lyric : There goes my hero, he's ordinary
Misheard Lyric : There goes my hero, he's old and hairy
=======================================================

Artist : Red Hot Chili Peppers
Song : Can't Stop

Real Lyric : Can't stop the spirits when they need you
Misheard Lyric : Can't stop the ferrets when they need food
=======================================================

Artist : Shania Twain
Song : That Don't Impress Me Much

Real Lyric : I can't believe you kiss your car goodnight.
Misheard Lyric : I can't believe you kiss your c**k at night.
=======================================================

Artist : Billy Joel
Song : You May Be Right

Real Lyric :
You may be right, I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're lookin for...
Misheard Lyric :
You made the rice, I made the gravy,
But it just may be some tuna fish you're lookin for...
=======================================================

Artist : Good Charlotte
Song : The Anthem

Real Lyric : This is the anthem throw all your hands up...
Misheard Lyric : This is the anthem blow all your friends up...
=======================================================

Artist : Chumbawamba
Song : Tubthumping

Real Lyric : I get knocked down, but I get up again. You're never gonna keep me down.
Misheard Lyric : I got no thumb, but it grew back again. You're never gonna keep me down.
=======================================================

Artist : John Denver
Song : Thank God I'm A Country Boy

Real Lyric : So I fiddle when I can and I work when I should...
Misheard Lyric : So I piddle when I can and I work when I should...
=======================================================

Artist : ACDC
Song : Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

Real Lyric : Dirty deeds and they're done dirt cheap...
Misheard Lyric : Dirty deeds and they're done with sheep...
=======================================================

Artist : Toto
Song : Africa

Real Lyric : I bless the rains down in Africa
Misheard Lyric : I left my brains down in Africa
=======================================================

Artist : Spice Girls
Song : Wannabe

Real Lyric : If you wannabe my lover You gotta get with my friends
Misheard Lyric : If you wanna do my mother You gotta get her a Benz
=======================================================

Artist : Theme Songs
Song : Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer

Real Lyric : You'll go down in history
Misheard Lyric : You'll go down and hit the tree
=======================================================

Artist : David Bowie
Song : Suffragette City

Real Lyric : This mellow-thighed chick just put my spine out of place.
Misheard Lyric : The smell of fat chicks just puts a smile on my face.
=======================================================

Artist : Santana
Song : Smooth

Real Lyric : Man, it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun.
Misheard Lyric : Man, it's a hot one
Like seven midgets in the midday sun.
=======================================================

Artist : Aqua
Song : Barbie Girl

Real Lyric : Come on Barbie lets go party
Misheard Lyric : Come on body lets go potty
=======================================================

Artist : Deep Purple
Song : Smoke On The Water

Real Lyric : Smoke on the water, fire in the sky
Misheard Lyric : Slow motion Walter, the fire engine guy.
=======================================================

Artist : Alanis Morissette
Song : You Oughta Know

Real Lyric : It's not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me...
Misheard Lyric : It's not fair to deny me of the cross-eyed bear that you gave to me...
=======================================================

Artist : Van Halen
Song : Panama

Real Lyric : Reached down between my legs and eased the seat back.
Misheard Lyric : Reached down between my legs and squeezed my seed bag.
=======================================================

Artist : Green Day
Song : Time of Your Life

Real Lyric : Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Misheard Lyric : Another turnip boy, the Ford stuck in the road.
=======================================================

Artist : Shakira
Song : Underneath Your Clothes

Real Lyric : There's the man I chose There's my territory
Misheard Lyric : There's the man I chose There's my Teletubbie
=======================================================

Artist : Nirvana
Song : Smells Like Teen Spirit

Real Lyric :
With the lights out it's less dangerous
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now entertain us
Misheard Lyric :
With the salad its less dangerous
Here we are now with potatoes
With a mars bar, and potatoes
And some salad and potatoes
=======================================================

Artist : Nickelback
Song : How You Remind Me

Real Lyric : Cause livin' with me must have damn near killed you
Misheard Lyric : Cause Little Women must have damn near killed you
=======================================================

Artist : The Beatles
Song : Michelle

Real Lyric : Michelle ma belle,
sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble,
très bien ensemble.
Misheard Lyric : Michelle ma belle,
some say monkeys play piano well,
play piano well.
=======================================================

Artist : Blink 182
Song : What's My Age Again?

Real Lyric : What's My Age Again
Misheard Lyric : Where's My Asian Friends
=======================================================

Artist : Eagles
Song : Hotel California

Real Lyric : What a nice surprise Bring your alibis
Misheard Lyric : What a nice surprise When your rabbit dies.
=======================================================

Artist : Cyndi Lauper
Song : Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Real Lyric : Oh mother dear, we're not the fortunate ones.
Misheard Lyric : O mamma dear, I'm not the virgin I was.
=======================================================

Artist : ABBA
Song : Take A Chance On Me

Real Lyric :
If you change your mind (take a chance)
I'm the first in line (take a chance)
Misheard Lyric :
If you chance your mind (Jackie Chan)
I'm the first in line (Jackie Chan)
=======================================================

Artist : Elton John
Song : Tiny Dancer

Real Lyric : Hold me closer, tiny dancer.
Misheard Lyric : Hold me close. Tie me down, sir.
=======================================================

Artist : Britney Spears
Song : Baby One More Time

Real Lyric : Hit me, baby, one more time.
Misheard Lyric : Hit it, baby, from behind.
=======================================================

Artist : Bee Gees
Song : Stayin' Alive

Real Lyric : It's alright. It's okay. You may look the other way.
Misheard Lyric : It's alright. It's okay. You make love the other way.
=======================================================

Artist : Outkast
Song : Hey Ya

Real Lyric : Shake it like a Polaroid picture.
Misheard Lyric : Shake it like a polarbear ninja.
=======================================================

Artist : Creedence Clearwater Revival
Song : Lodi

Real Lyric : Oh Lord, I'm stuck in Lodi again
Misheard Lyric : Oh Lord, I'm suckin' an old guy again
=======================================================

Artist : Pink Floyd
Song : Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2

Real Lyric : No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Misheard Lyric : The ducks are hazards in the classroom.
=======================================================

Artist : Madonna
Song : La Isla Bonita

Real Lyric :
Tropical the island breeze
All of Nature wild and free
This is where I long to be
La Isla Bonita
Misheard Lyric :
Just call me an island slease
All my body yours for free
This is who I long to be
Louise the Bone Eater
=======================================================

Artist : ABBA
Song : Chiquitita

Real Lyric : Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong
Misheard Lyric : Take your teeth out, tell me what is wrong
=======================================================

Artist : Eagles
Song : Take It Easy

Real Lyric : I'm looking for a lover who won't blow my cover
She's so hard to find.
Misheard Lyric : I'm looking for a lover who won't blow my brother
She's so hard to find.
=======================================================

Artist : National Anthems
Song : Advance Australia Fair

Real Lyric : Australians all, let us rejoice,
For we are young and free!
Misheard Lyric : Australians all eat sausages.
Four minus one is three.
=======================================================

Artist : Eurythmics
Song : Sweet Dreams ( are made of this )

Real Lyric : Sweet Dreams are made of these. Who am I to disagree. Travelled the world and the seven seas...
Misheard Lyric : Sweet cream is made of cheese Who am I to disagree Travelled the world in seven jeans
=======================================================

Artist : Metallica
Song : One

Real Lyric : Tied to machines that make me be
Misheard Lyric : Tied to machines that make me pee
=======================================================

Artist : Genesis
Song : Invisible Touch

Real Lyric : She seems to have an invisible touch, yeah.
Misheard Lyric : He has a hand of invisible duck s**t.
=======================================================

Artist : Eiffel 65
Song : Blue (Da Ba Dee)

Real Lyric : I'm blue da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba da
Misheard Lyric : I'm blue and I believe I will die if I eat an apple pie.
=======================================================

Artist : Johnny Rivers
Song : Secret Agent Man

Real Lyric : Secret Agent Man
Misheard Lyric : Seasick Asian man
=======================================================

Artist : Pink Floyd
Song : Comfortably Numb

Real Lyric : My hands felt just like two balloons.
Misheard Lyric : My head smelled just like tuba lube.
=======================================================

Artist : Pat Benatar
Song : Hit me with your best shot

Real Lyric : Hit me with your best shot
Misheard Lyric : Hit me with your pet shark
=======================================================

Artist : Mariah Carey
Song : Without You

Real Lyric : I can't forget this evening or your face as you were leaving.
Misheard Lyric : I can't forget the semen on your face as you were leaving.
=======================================================

Artist : George Harrison
Song : Got my mind set on you

Real Lyric : Got my mind set on you
Misheard Lyric : Thought my mom sat on you.
=======================================================

Artist : Aqua
Song : Barbie Girl

Real Lyric : I'm a barbie girl, in the barbie world. Life in plastic, it's fantastic!
Misheard Lyric : Im a Barbie girl, in a barbie world. Fight with plastic, what a spastic...
=======================================================

Artist : John Travolta & Olivia Newton-John
Song : The One That I Want

Real Lyric : Meditate, my direction, feel your way
Misheard Lyric : Meditate, mad erection, feel your way
=======================================================

Artist : Robert Palmer
Song : Addicted To Love

Real Lyric : Might as well face it, you're addicted to love.
Misheard Lyric : Might as well face it, it's my d**k that you love.
=======================================================

Artist : Golden Earring
Song : Radar Love

Real Lyric : It's a half past four and I'm shifting gears
Misheard Lyric : It's a half-assed Ford and I'm shifing gears
=======================================================

Artist : Nine Days
Song : Absolutely (Story of a Girl)

Real Lyric : You look in the mirror, so how do you choose?
Misheard Lyric : When you look in the mirror, and say hi to your shoes.
=======================================================

Artist : Queen
Song : Bohemian Rhapsody

Real Lyric : Spare him his life from this monstrosity!
Misheard Lyric : Saving his life from his warm sausage tea
=======================================================

Artist : Marvin Gaye
Song : Sexual Healing

Real Lyric : Darling, you're so great, I can't wait for you to operate
Misheard Lyric : Darling, you're so great, I can't wait for you to ovulate
=======================================================

Artist : Eddie Money
Song : Two Tickets To Paradise

Real Lyric : I've got two tickets to paradise.
Misheard Lyric : I've got flu, rickets, and parasites.
=======================================================

Artist : Joni Mitchell
Song : Big Yellow Taxi

Real Lyric : They paved Paradise, and put up a parking lot.
Misheard Lyric : A gay pair of guys put up a parking lot.
=======================================================

Artist : Bee Gees
Song : Stayin' Alive

Real Lyric : "Well you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man, no time for talk..."
Misheard Lyric : "Hell, you can tell right away I abuse my rock, I'm a woman, man, go climb the clock..."
=======================================================

Artist : The Beatles
Song : Something

Real Lyric : Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover.
Misheard Lyric : Something in the way she moos
Attracts me like no other mother.
=======================================================

Artist : Bob Dylan
Song : Subterranean Homesick Blues

Real Lyric : The pump don't work cause the vandals took the handle.
Misheard Lyric : The pope don't work cause the vandals took the candles.
=======================================================

Artist : Michael Jackson
Song : Beat It

Real Lyric : show them how funky
Misheard Lyric : show them hot monkey
=======================================================

Artist : Chumbawamba
Song : Tubthumping

Real Lyric : Pissing the night away
Misheard Lyric : Piss in the microwave
=======================================================

Artist : System of a Down
Song : Chop Suey

Real Lyric : Grab a brush and put on a little make-up.
Misheard Lyric : Grandma should put on a little make-up.
=======================================================

Artist : Fugees
Song : Killing Me Softly With His Song

Real Lyric : Killing me softly with his song
Misheard Lyric : Killing me softly with his thong
=======================================================

Artist : Ramones
Song : I Want To Be Sedated

Real Lyric : I Want To Be Sedated
Misheard Lyric : I want a piece of bacon.
=======================================================

Artist : Bryan Adams
Song : Summer Of '69

Real Lyric : Got my first real six string,
Bought it at the five and dime.
Misheard Lyric : Got my first real sex dream,
Had it at the five and dime.
=======================================================

Artist : Creedence Clearwater Revival
Song : Bad Moon Rising

Real Lyric : There's a bad moon on the rise.
Misheard Lyric : There's a baboon on the right.
=======================================================

Artist : U2
Song : Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Real Lyric : Sunday Bloody Sunday
Misheard Lyric : Some day buddy, some day
=======================================================

Artist : Pink Floyd
Song : Wish You Were Here

Real Lyric :
Would you exchange
a walk-on part in the war
for the lead role in a cage
Misheard Lyric :
Would you exchange
a welcome part in the war
for a negro in a cage
=======================================================

Artist : Adam and the Ants
Song : Stand And Deliver

Real Lyric : Stand and deliver, your money or your life...
Misheard Lyric : Stab in the liver, your mummy or your wife
=======================================================

Artist : Michael Jackson
Song : You Are Not Alone

Real Lyric : You Are Not Alone
Misheard Lyric : You Are Not A Gnome
=======================================================

Artist : Manfred Mann's Earth Band
Song : Blinded By The Light

Real Lyric : Revved up like a deuce Another runner in the night
Misheard Lyric : Wrapped up like a douche I knew their owner every night
=======================================================

Artist : Band Aid
Song : Do They Know It's Christmas Time

Real Lyric : The greatest gift they'll get this year is life.
Misheard Lyric : The only gift they'll get this year is flies.
=======================================================

Artist : Todd Rundgren
Song : Bang The Drum All Day

Real Lyric : I don't want to work. I just want to bang on the drum all day.
Misheard Lyric : I don't want to work. I just want to bang and get drunk all day.
=======================================================

Artist : 98 Degrees
Song : I Do (Cherish You)

Real Lyric : ...your hand brushes mine....
Misheard Lyric : ...your hairbrush is mine....
=======================================================

Letting It All Out

2008-11-18T00:09:00.002Z

“Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power. If you realize that you have enough, you are truly rich.” - Tao Te Ching

Soooo.... I had a bit of a weak moment yesterday. I guess it can't be helped, when you've wound yourself up that tight eventually you have to break the elastic limit and speed out into the unknown.

Still, I'd like to thank those of my friends who were there for me when I needed them most. Hopefully I can repay you someday. :)

I've remembered something that helped me vent my feelings very well when I was younger, and that was writing short stories. I hadn't written one in a few years now, but I decided it was time to dust off the old mind at give it a crack again. Wasn't half disappointed.

I've set up a regular blog for all my short stories work, and any news in regards to my books (don't hold your collective breaths now).

You can hunt it down if you want. Or I could just give you the link. Whichever tick tocks your clock really.

Art of Zo Blog

There is also going to be a regular link to it on the right of my blog, in the Closet section.

Right well that's that.

Hope to see you all around and do leave comments, it makes me gloat when I read them. Err, I mean, blush! And feel appreciated! Definitely not gloating, oh no no...

- Zo

"Well I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell,
I know right now, you can't tell,
but stay a while and maybe then you'll see,
a different side of me."
Unwell - Matchbox 20

The Windows to the Soul

2008-11-17T09:01:00.005Z

“Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see Life with a clearer view again.” - Alex Tan

“Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it.” - Albert Smith

This is perhaps the first time I'm starting a blog post with a quote or two, though it honestly isn't that bad. Right, on to the topic at hand.

So I cried last night. It was a build up of pressure just eating away at me. The constant fear and reprieve of rejection, tension, unhappiness, and hopelessness. I haven't really cried-cried since about October last year, when my uncle, my father's youngest brother, passed away after a long fight against cancer.

Still, it's different. Back then, I was crying for the loss. I was crying because I saw how it affected my father, and my aunts and uncles. How their lives would forever be changed by this. I only knew my uncle as well as someone could know an uncle you've not really seen much of your whole life I guess - as a loved one definitely but we certainly weren't close. Still, the tears came from the worry for his family, for the worry of his two young sons and his widowed wife. And so I cried, I guess, to relieve the helplessness I was feeling for them and for their loss more than my own.

Like I said, this time is different. Life, it really has the tendency to grab you by the very roots of your being and drag you down into a precipice. And you fight and you claw and you want to get to the top but it just gets harder and harder. And it's so much easier just to let go and let yourself fall and see where life takes you - maybe you'll hit the bottom and live, maybe you won't. But the question is, once you're there at the bottom, and life cannot possibly throw you down further, what then? Can you live there happily, knowing you could have had something better? Or will you try to climb back out, renewed in your hope?

I know what some people will be thinking, and no, death is not an escape. It may be an escape for you to shirk on your responsibilities, but it isn't an escape because when you die, you leave an immovable stamp on the people that loved you most. Lovers. Mothers. Fathers. Siblings. Friends. You could suffer, or you could make them suffer.

I guess, then, courage hasn't really been my problem. I've always been strong, always wanted something better. But every time I try, every time I possibly think that life could be going the way I want it to, the way I NEED it to go, I realise how horribly mistaken I was.

I was never much of an optimist - it's something I forced on myself to stop being so negative all the time. Pessimism comes naturally to someone who doesn't want to take the risks, and as much as time shows me that risks will inevitably hurt, I'm glad that I have made some, if not all, of the choices I have made.

We as beings cannot exist outside the realm of time and space. Emotions, however, seem to do so. In that sense, emotions may be the link to our immortal souls (for those who believe in that kind of thing), and their struggle and desire to cope with the manifest limitations that reality and existence impose upon us. But the only way to survive it is to keep moving, even if you aren't quite sure where the road will take you. The fog won't clear until you reach your destination, and the night is darkest before the dawn.

Here's to hoping I can find a decent flashlight in all this bullshit.

-Zo

"Daddy's flown across the ocean,
Leaving just a memory,
A snapshot in the family album,
Daddy what else did you leave for me?
Daddy what'd you leave behind for me?
All in all it was just a brick in the wall.
All in all it was just bricks in the wall."
Korn - Another Brick in the Wall

Reality for the Masses

2008-11-15T00:47:00.003Z

We've all seen those shows on TV.

Big Brother - Cooping up a bunch of misfits together to see who is the biggest misfit.

The Biggest Loser - A bunch of health-freaks chase a bunch of fat guys with sticks and see which of them hits the dirt last.

American Idol (and its many variants) - An utter mockfest.

I mean seriously? Look at X Factor, Pop Idol, and America's/Britain's Got Talent.

What is the purpose behind these shows? Is it really to offer all these people in the wider world who like to dream of something better an actual shot at making that, or is it to line up a cadre of people vying for the spotlight and have an over eager British judge sat around taking them apart with the remainder of the cast consisting of almost-but-not-quite washed up stars try and failing to give honest advice and criticism?

What people fail to realise it is that when you make someone the butt of a joke that's broadcast on national television, it spreads like wildfire. Especially if you're an asshole about it, like Simon Cowell often is (no offense, I love the bastard, but is what he does REALLY necessary?). The only thing it does is fish in viewers, safe in the unjudging confines of their living rooms, and shows them how the people of the world can be laid bare for their amusement. But really, time after time of rejection can only go so far and you have to wonder, how much of a toll does it actually have on the people that are the victims of this kind of production that's clearly targeting and ridiculing them?

The latest example: Miss Paula Goodspeed, who committed suicide a few days ago. Turned out of American Idol two years ago. Good looking gal. Could have had a decent future. Instead Simon Cowell picked her apart in 2006 for wearing braces (apparently she had enough metal in her mouth to build a bridge). Gee, sorry Simon, you must have been born with perfect teeth (which, sorry, you weren't, because you are after all British... the apology was for British people in general there!). Now clearly Simon wasn't the trigger that caused her to kill herself, but rejection and ridicule borne from the line of remarks he started quite probably were (if you don't believe me, go have a read of Paula's MySpace blog).

In contrast, I was sat with my mum today. She's a sucker for Indian shows, and there was this show called 'Zara Nach Ke Dekha' (translated pretty much as 'Show Us How You Dance'). It had a couple of idiot judges on it (on of whom is Malaika Arora, who for some reason keeps reminding me of Danni Minogue for some reason). I say lame, because while these fellas were clearly judging a dance show, they were very kind and generous with their praise, giving honest advice and not taking cheap shots.

And I realised something then and there. That kind of TV is really boring.

So there you go. On the one hand, you can have flagrant disregard for the respect of your fellow human being, and you can generate pandemic levels of ratings, or you can have a humble honest show, with a bunch of happy people that watch it, and when they walk away they don't have to feel bad because they laughed at the girl in 2006 who had braces but who OD'd in a parked car a few days ago (I imagine Simon's not taking it too well either. That, or he actually is a heartless bastard, bless him).

Andy Warhol did say that everyone would be out for their 15 minutes of fame. But is it worth getting bent over and raped in the ass by a bunch of TV producers for? They know what's going to happen to you before they let you in that room with the three celebrity judged - there's plenty of pre-screening done. They let you in solely because they know that you're going to be torn a new one, and it will drive show ratings up, and they'll be a little richer, and the whole world is happy.

Question is, after those 15 minutes are up, will you be able to look at yourself in the same light, or will you have had some measure of dignity robbed from you?

-Zo

Vampires and the Law: Those Pesky Details.

2008-11-11T00:23:00.006Z

So I've recently taken a liking to the new Vampire series on TV - True Blood.

Set in a hick town in Louisiana, the story follows the exploits and misadventures of a truly hotch potch variety of characters, ranging from the gay black guy to the misunderstood bartender who can change into various creatures big and small. Not forgetting of course the main character, played by Anna Paquin, a rather naive young woman who spends most of her time either in confused hysteria or a near psychedelic euphoria (you don't even notice when the switch happens), and of course the mysterious human loving Vampire played by Stephen Moyer who, despite his many, many years alive, is still a fool in love.

I am a bit of a harsh critic but there you go, I tend to be harsher with things I like (ask my girlfriend - though she'll probably read this sentence and formulate the idea that I was referring to her as an object and I'll get a swift kick to the head. Looking forward to it hon!).

Still, the major theme of the series is that Vampires no longer hide from humanity and have 'come out of the coffin', so to say, and the series identifies various levels of acceptance amongst the other people of the town, and how closely it correlates with gay-bashing and racism at times.

What decidedly struck me in my minor musings during the course of today was that what would happen when a vampire woke up one day to find everything he owned was effectively not his anymore? Lets look at it in a little bit more detail.

As per the law in most countries, certain principles of succession exist when an individual dies. For example, on death, the property of an individual is often distributed amongst his close family, or however his will may allot them. Similar would be the case for shares and ownership in companies. If he is part of a partnership company, most likely his share, on his death, will be absorbed by his partners. And probably most importantly, he would lose the deed to his property - it would either pass on to his next of kin or revert back to the state.

In most cases, a human may die a wealthy individual only to wake up as one poor and miserable vampire. I wonder, were such a scenario to become reality, how would the change in law occur? Perhaps an inclusion into the constitution and law as to what the official definition of 'death' is.

Ah I can just see it now...

The Vampire Rights Act 2008

Section 1 - For the purposes of all legal definitions, and in all matters of law, 'death' as a term will be defined as that period where a person ceases to exist as a thinking rational creature.

Section 2 - In the case of death, a reasonable period of time shall be given in accordance with 'turning' principles, after which the corpse of the person may be questioned during the night hours between dusk and dawn, as to whether they wish their assets and estate to be executed as per their written contractual agreements and final will, or if they desire to continue to remain in possession of said articles or agreements or fixtures.

Section 3 - In the event of the death of a Vampire, this shall be construed as the final and complete demise of that personality and that individual will cease to exist by law, and their definition will coincide with that of deceased.

....

And the list goes on. Will death result in the breach of contract? Or how about sufficient to frustrate the terms of employment, or perhaps result in wrongful dismissal?

I guess Vampires coming out of the closet would provide a whole host of legal problems. There may be lineage disputes going back hundreds of years in regards to property. Vampires may want to have their own tribunals. Will their be affirmative vampire action? How about a vampire in office, or a vampire as a senior judge?

If vampires are legally recognized would the same need to be done for werewolves, wizards, witches, elves, and demons? Will we live to see the day when an elf and a werewolf are having a heated contention in a presidential election?

I personally would love to see it when it happens (or should that be IF it happens?) and I'm seriously hoping that by such a time, I'm a fully qualified lawyer! The money making potential is vast. *rubs stubby little hands together in glee* And if I'm lucky, I could be paid in antique treasure, old gold coins, or even pixie dust (I hear it's better than cocaine...)

Right I honestly need to find more constructive uses for my time!

- Zo

The 'M' Word

2008-11-10T20:49:00.002Z

Islamophobia.

Yes, it's a word now. I'm not sure who coined it, or when really, though it was probably somewhere between September 2001 and the subsequent invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Everyone has been all too quick at pointing fingers at others. As previously mentioned on my blog, and undoubtedly across a wide spectrum of media across the world, one of the attempted smear campaigns involved denouncing Senator Obama as being a Muslim, and his possible association with terrorists.

Unfortunately, in the interests of freedom of speech and expression, there isn't a substantive forum of justice available for false statements, especially because it is exceedingly important to keep speech as free as possible when it comes to political discussions and matters relating to prominent politicians. Though afforded a certain degree of protection under UK Common Law, this is not the case in the US, who take their Constitutional Rights much more seriously.

But lets look at some of the parts of the US constitution. Provisions provided under the umbrella of the First Amendment in the Bill of Rights include the right to freedom of speech and expression, while at the same time, the right to free practice of religion is also given.

This is interesting because under the current political climate, the inclination tends to be towards protecting the right to free speech UNLESS a breach to the guidelines of that expression can be established (thus the burden of proof would lie upon an aggrieved individual or the state to bring legal action against someone exercising their speech in an incorrect manner).

However, how about the right to freedom of religion? This one seems to go more unsaid and uncommented on, because most people understand the very brittle political grounds it is centred on . Still now though, an accusation can be made, and the burden of proof will often lie on the person accused to prove that he is not expressing his religion or to establish that his religion lies within the guidelines of those presently recognized as religions.

Do you notice a difference? Where freedom of speech is concerned, the rights of the practitioner are more secure than is the current situation in regards to freedom of religion, despite that fact that they both fall under the same Amendment, and should thus be afforded the same level of priority.

It's not something that appears before courts but is rather better expressed in the form of 'urban legends' of expats or ethnic minorities being the victims of racial attacks but having little to nothing done about it by the authorities. The extent of truth behind these stories is hard to establish, but there is rarely smoke without fire (unless of course, dry ice is brought into the mix, but that just throws in a whole new level of deception to the arguement).

So why is being a Muslim suddenly the most un-trendy thing this decade? A lot of people are keen to point fingers - The U.S. Government, George Bush, Saddam Hussein, Al Qaeda, aliens. The list will never end. I propose a slightly different perspective though - how about pointing that finger a little closer to home.

We shall assume all conspiracy theories out there regarding the CIA and 9/11 are false for the purpose of this little experiment. That would mean then that as per currently accepted opinion, Al Qaeda were the perpetrators behind one of the greatest acts of terrorism in history. So then, the American invasion of Afghanistan to root out the organisation that was responsible for attacking them - also completely justifiable. It should be noted though that as Taliban was the ruling authority in the country, the US invasion was a declaration of war against Afghanistan itself. So where does the Muslim agenda come in?

Two parties are primarily to blame. One is the terrorist body itself, claiming that the attacks were conducted in the defence of Islam. This is wrong, because it has the message of the objectification of Islam as a readily identifiable enemy, similar to the form of classification that would be given to the country. So, for example, if Nazi forces took military action against various other countries in World War II, claiming it was to achieve the goals of Germany, then it is indeed Germany that the Allies would (and did) take action against, not solely the Nazi party. Though not a perfect fit example, it serves to illustrate the point to a sufficient degree. Due to the implicit statements made by terrorist cells that Islam told them to kill people (despite the fact that the basics of Islam promote peace and deeply condemn murder), served to steer the less informed opinions in society towards perceiving Islam, and thus all Muslims, as a threat and an enemy (and it is indeed these less informed individuals that are most inclined and manipulated to racist action).

The second group of individuals at blame, and these are people not often associated as being at fault, are the Muslim communities around the world who so actively proclaim that the attacks against Afghanistan and Iraq were not actions against the respective governments and authority bodies in place, but rather attacks against the Muslim people residing in those countries in general. This is a dangerous perception and it is most probably this that led to ostentatious flag burnings and Hate America slogans around the world. The typical uninformed mind? Consider them your enemy too. So essentially, Muslim people around the world, despite their open and oft-proclaimed disagreement with the views of terrorists unwitting get themselves banded in the same boat. I remember back in 2001, a few people I knew in Pakistan were happy the US got hit and were claiming that Al Qaeda were 'freedom fighters', defending their 'Muslim brothers'. The reality is now better known, as those same terrorist cells detonate bombs every few days in the country. Would they think the same now? Probably not. Because those they were so keen to support as defenders of their own cause have proven to be out for their blood too.

It should be understood that the actions that Muslim communities proclaimed as attacks on their religion were far from that. Involvements in the Middle East? Sectarian differences? Governmental control? These are all ultimately political reasons. Even if you went to the extent to say that the recent war in Iraq was solely to better explore more prospects for oil, then it should be seen as just that - a political decision to engage in arms to secure finance. Long gone are the days when attacks against ideologies and faiths are the premise for war. It's all about wealth and power now, and control over the sources of that wealth and power.

What, then, is the typical uninformed mind? You should straight away be getting a stereotyped red-neck laid back trailer park resident kind of image in your head now, and though I'm not going to swing one way on that stereotype, you should be aware that unawareness rises much higher than that. Or, conversely, it could also be the stereotypical third world child, given very little education but rather taught the opinions of others as ultimate law, and thus indoctrinated into a school of belief with very little interaction with those he is taught to hate. Both are ultimately wrong, yet which is more readily addressed?

One example: John McCain's statement of how he holds nothing against Muslims, or "the Islam". I'm sorry, but again, manifest objectification is present. Islam is a form of belief, akin to Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, or even Atheism or Agnostic. A system of belief is never classified in an object form. Perhaps the difference lies in how Islam includes tenets on the practice of day to day life as opposed to simply the private practice of religion (for example, containing express provisions on not charging interest on loans or deposits, etc.). This perhaps distinguishes it a little bit from some of the more spiritualistic beliefs of other religions. Still, that does not change the fact that the religion is still a system belief and not a governance of action - like the law (though variations of Islamic law is indeed in action around the world, it is noted that it is not the Quran exactly that is followed, but rather statutes and constitutions containing provisions derived and interpreted in some form or the other from the sayings of the Quran).

And what leads an uninformed mind to take that bold leap into the realm of racism?

The greatest cause of hatred in the world is fear. And fear is generated when something is not understood. Perhaps just by reading this article, you the reader will have gained a little insight into how some of these things are portrayed and enacted.

Ultimately though, the Muslims around the world will just have to brace themselves and bear it, be you a person that from the outset has chosen to show that you have nothing in common with terrorists, or be you a person that initially thought that terrorists were initially defending your religion on the global forum. Racial discrimination doesn't need excuses made for it. Africans were brought over and persecuted for centuries, and though less prominent, discrimination on the basis of colour continues. Their only crime? Being born with a different colour to their skin. I guess one of the more elating prospects of the election of Barack Obama is an international proclamation from the American people themselves that they are ready to take that step forward and look beyond fear and racism to work mutually for the benefit of all society.

The majority of people will agree with me, despite minuscule differences in the interpretation of various details, and that is perfectly fine because that is the ultimate goal of expression and opinion.

In closing I'd just like to mention a statement Colin Powell made recently, in regards to some of the comments that senior Republican party members had made concerning Obama and the Islamic faith in general, and how it is 'un-American' to deny that freedom of religion and to not accept it fully into society. The various Muslim communities around the US thanked Mr. Powell for his statements.

Still, the ultimate goal should be that the necessity for such statements is invalidated, and that can only be achieved by understanding and interaction, something both sides need to practice more. Sadly, some elements that are addressed in this article will not be able to read it. Those indoctrinated individuals taught to follow the extremist interpretation of Islam will rarely have the freedom to interact openly with the World Wide Web - instead, indoctrination sites are ever present to seduce those who do open their minds to other interpretations.

My personal opinion? I'm pretty much just sick of it. I'm sick of little Muslim kids being bullied and picked on. Of the ridiculous nicknames and slogans that have been coined. Of the general fear that seems to follow people who practice the religion. But at the same time, I'm sick of those people who are unwilling to understand the bigger picture, who blindly force their propaganda and narrow visions on the innocent minds of others, and those who work hard to incite hate on either side.

This is a pretty long rant. I'm going to shut up now, as very little of it probably makes any sense anyway.

-Zo

Bom Chicka Woaw Wo- ORDER I SAY! ORDER!

2008-11-06T15:05:00.003Z

So the law fair is coming up, on the 20th of November. Most major firms will be present there, and essentially anyone that wants a future in law should be attending. You meet the firms, find out their requirements, choose who you're going to apply to, that kind of thing.

On the other hand, the 20th of November is also the day that Larry Flynt of Hustler has decided to put out a casting call. That would probably entail showing up, showing off my bod, getting my penis measured, pleasuring a woman on camera, then (hopefully, fingers and toes crossed) getting a callback. Though I could be fairly wrong about the process as I know little if nothing about how the porn industry is run.

A pornography, that favourite bittersweet pastime. I remember how my innocent eyes were broken in to the world of gritty sex-on-tape reality, way back when I was a young teenager and we managed to get an old 80's VHS cassette from somewhere.

Our girlfriends hate it. Feminists claim it demeans women. But there is nothing quite like a good porn-flick to pass the time. It can often leave you more satisfied than watching a really good movie, and the best part about a porno is that you don't need to watch the whole thing in one go to truly enjoy what it's all about.

I should probably stop talking about it now, as the reality of things are that I know more girls than guys. So this post could possibly entail me suffering more wrath than cheerful pats on the back. I could be filling forms at the A & E for an emergency testicle retrieval operation rather than being down at the pub, being bought a drink for my candidness.

Still, I am at that crucial point where I have to choose my career path. Worried as I am about almost everything, I am determined to make the correct choice NOW rather than go ten years down the line into a profession I don't enjoy that much only to change it later in life.

So the question is:

Do I want to be a lawyer, or a pornstar?

-Zo / El Zorro 'Jackhammer' Steele! (My showname of course.)

Please Remember the 5th of November... and the Price of Treason

2008-11-06T14:11:00.005Z

I think that's how the rhyme goes, though I honestly cannot remember.

I am of course, referring to the English event known as Bonfire Day, or Guy Fawkes day as it is sometimes called, which takes place on the night of the 5th of November, and which is precisely the reason I couldn't get much sleep last night, because some genius was putting on a private fireworks display down the road.

Still, as my desire for the alimentation (see, I used it) of my knowledge is ever present, I embarked on a late night online journey to discover what the Gunpowder plot was all about. Then I came across this article on BBC news.

Free the Gunpowder Plot One

Apparently, in addition to the gentry conspirators, there had been a Jesuit priest originally implicated in the crime, and sentenced to be 'Hung, Drawn, and Quartered'.

Now while there are claims that the reason that the priest was implicated was to prevent riots of catholic persecution or some such, I paid greater attention to the punishment that was actually rendered.

Hung, Drawn, and Quartered

As per the description in Wikipedia, the process was as follows.

Until 1814, the full punishment for the crime of treason was to be hanged, drawn and quartered in that the condemned prisoner would be:

Dragged on a hurdle (a wooden frame) to the place of execution. (This is one
possible meaning of drawn.) The more likely meaning of Drawn is the act of
disembowelment.

Hanged by the neck for a short time or until almost dead (hanged).

Disembowelled and emasculated and the genitalia and entrails burned before the condemned's eyes (this is another meaning of drawn—see the reference to the Oxford English Dictionary below).

The body divided into four parts, then Beheaded(quartered).

Typically, the resulting five parts (i.e. the four quarters of the body and the head) were gibbeted (put on public display) in different parts of the city, town, or, in famous cases, in the country, to deter would-be traitors who had not seen the execution.

After 1814, the convict would be hanged until dead and the mutilation
would be performed post-mortem. Gibbeting was later abolished in England in
1843, while drawing and quartering was abolished in 1870.

Now for a country that professes such a strong emphasis on human rights and the prevention of cruel and unnecessary harm, this is something of a colourful history, and indeed, it wasn't abolished that long ago either.

It makes you wonder though. A country with as rich a history and background as the UK, and with as sound a developed legal system, had such a cruel mode of punishment in action for over 300 years. I wonder how long it would take current developing countries to get past the difficulties they currently face, with insurgencies and executions ever present.

Still, I wonder how the Earth will be like 500 years from now. Will we have all reached that enlightened state of understanding that harm caused to one another is counter productive and unnecessary? Or will we see a cycle emerge, with a resurgence of cruel punishments in the developed countries of now?

Only time will tell.

-Zo

A President Elect, and the Election Campaign Run-Up

2008-11-05T16:29:00.004Z

The dust is just about settling on one of the most historic elections in US history. With a turnout far exceeding that of any election since 1960, there is little doubt that the people have spoken; and their collective voice has chosen the new man for the top spot - Senator Barack Hussein Obama.

Now I was one of those who supported Obama from the start. Intelligent and charismatic, everything about him put off the noble enlightened airs of a modern day Abraham Lincoln, or George Washington. Indeed, the calibre of the previous Presidents have been seen all too often, with President Bush telephoning Mr. Obama to congratulate him on his 'awesome day'. Awesome.

Still, everyone does need to stop for a second and see where McCain actually lost it. Professing to be a new face for the Republicans, McCain claimed himself to be a bit of a maverick; something the people would look to in support. So why the massive dip in support?

A lot of the media are pointing fingers at the fact that recent economic conditions in the United States have been blamed on poor governance by the Republican government (indeed, it isn't that hard to visualise George Dub-ya sat in the Oval Office, playing around with paper airplanes made from premium quality letterheads, while the rest of his country sharply collapses and people are losing their homes left right and centre).

I think, more than anything though, it was some of the late positional changes McCain made that led to his downfall. For example, his deciding to support the Bush administration - not a very maverick move there John. Secondly, the appointment of Sarah Palin as his VP. Words fail to describe how that woman could possibly be Vice President. Probably the same failing words that put Bush into office.

The people were tired. They didn't want a super-patriot veteran who didn't know his left from his right when it came to policy making. They wanted someone to herald a new dawn; change and reform for the benefit of the people in general and not only the privileged.

The Republicans have always put off the image that they don't require you to be a 'smart ass' in books or have a college degree, and hold extremely traditional views. This time around, the people didn't want an average Joe at the helm. They needed someone who knew what he was doing. Someone who gave off the aura deserving for a nation at the very top of the food chain.

Finally, some of the lower tactics that McCain supporters resorted to really astound me. There was the obvious unspoken statement that Obama would have a difficult time getting elected because he was black.

Something that clearly went spoken though was on the grounds of his Muslim heritage. That was what a significant bulk of the smear campaigning was directed at - the fact that Obama's father was a Muslim, and that he himself has a Muslim name.

So, when did it become okay to accept that insulting him for being black is wrong, but insulting him for being a Muslim is acceptable? Honestly, the backward nature of some of the people in the US never ceases to astound me, especially when it comes to issues as important as these. Obama, in response, would always candidly be honest, and even addressed the issue of his name in a humourous way. But he always kept it above the belt when taking his shots back at McCain, and I think that shows a marvellous degree of honour and he is truly a man worthy of respect.

Still, there is a ways to go before everything is bright and peachy again. The voter distribution showed how strong McCain was in the more backward and traditional states in the US. It will be up to Obama now to act as a beacon of hope for all Americans and to forge a unified path into the future.

And please, stop invading smaller countries. Kkthanksbye.

-Zo

Apathy and Monotony

2008-11-05T01:43:00.002Z

Do you ever get the feeling you go through the same motions day in and day out? That's what my life has been like lately. I log onto the Internet. I go to the same dozen or so websites I check every time, and I end up repeating the process monotonously day in and day out.

I mean seriously, how long does a person need to spend on their Facebook, hitting the refresh button every five minutes to see if someone has suddenly remembered you exist? It's just sad, especially on a medium where the designed intention is staggered communication.

I rarely use MSN anymore, except to talk to a select few people. And when I think about it, the various people I used to talk to online has rapidly dwindled. Various friends have various tasks and chores they need to perform outside the Great World Wide Web, and as people get busier, you seem to be in touch with them less and less.

I think perhaps I've hit rock bottom. My social life cannot literally get worse than this (fingers crossed). I always talk to the same circle of friends, my interaction with new people has dwindled rapidly in the past year or so, and despite my heavily extroverted nature, I've been continually looking for reasons to stay introverted.

Still, life has its little perks. I've had some alone time (a lot!) as of late just to think about myself and where I am headed as a person and where my life is going. And more and more I realise a lot of things I had taken for granted as consistencies, where in reality there were just as vulnerable to change as any other aspect of my life. Perhaps leaving those openings in my personality has caused cracks in my proverbial shell.

And of course, what is the shell? I guess it simply is that barrier one builds around himself to shield him from the realities of the world. It comes in many forms. One is the total lockout - where something doesn't go your way, you shun it completely. One is the bravado personality - you put up an image of yourself which in your minds eye you know will be knocked down eventually. That way when it does suffer that blow, the 'real' you isn't effected - hey, it was the fake personality that got blasted not me, I'm still savvy.

I think I was somewhere between the two of them, and that should kind of give you an idea of how insecure a person I actually am! (No one is going to believe this lol.)

Still, once you take your licks and get it together, you find life has a lot of open venues to explore - even achieve things you want to happen, though from a slightly different angle. It's just taking that first step that's always scary.

I've been under a lot of stress the past few months - both personal, professional, and in general related to my loved ones and relatives. I've had a constant twitch in my right eye for the better part of a week now - I've been told it's an apparent side effect of too much tension and stress, and ultimately spending too much time in front of a screen.

I guess that hits my two major problems on the head there. I resolve to spend more time out. To meet more people to replenish the multitudes and masses of people I could call on for support or for a chat even. And just in general to take each day as it comes to me, try to be the best I can be, and achieve as much as I possibly can towards my goals before moving on to the next day.

And if I don't manage on any given day?

Well I guess the best remedy is just to calm down. Take a few deep breaths and try again the next day. And the next. Hey even if the chances are slim, eventually it will stick right? Persistence pays, as the saying goes.

A lot of this post was just rambling, which is all I seem to be doing lately. I vow to try to be more focused from next time onwards.

Bleh.

-Zo.

You Get What You Pay For?

2008-11-04T02:05:00.004Z

Gone are the days when there were a very restricted number of fields of employment a person could enter. In the beginning, it was hunter or farmer or soldier. Then came along the likes of civil service and industrial worker. Then came along small business owners and commercial enterprise.

Now? We now have a quagmire in the services sector where you can offer just about any sort of product and people will pay good money for it. In this day and age, where the market isn't restricted to your local town or borough, but rather the entire world, and where your product is quick, effective, and addresses the problem at hand, more often than not, folks with the disposable income on hand are not likely to say no.

Take this for an example. You can now pay a person to give you advice on how to pick up women and how to be a more confident person. I used to think this was pretty laughable, but believe it or not, confirmation affirmation works, and so do, apparently, pick up techniques and tricks. There are countless degree-less self-professing experts out there, who offer to help you rekindle lost loves, how to keep your failing relationships, how to tie your shoelaces with your tongue, hell, I even read one once on how to last longer in bed by working out your PB Muscle (in my defence, I paid nothing for that advice, and it taught me a handy how-to-make-my-penis-dance trick so we all win).

But more often than not we are quick to dismiss a lot of those proclaimed 'help you with your self help' guides as shams. The reason? They all rely on a key underlying principle: Your belief in yourself, and the belief in your cause. If you find yourself sufficiently dedicated to getting something done, you'll find it gets easier and easier over time. Don't take my word for it, I was just the shy kid who was afraid to talk to girls at age sixteen, but a semi (and serious wannabe) playboy by the end of the next year. It can all be chalked down to self confidence and belief in myself, and that ultimately is the key to all of these self help techniques.

No one can teach you how to pick up women. That's just silly. Instead the guide will just facilitate you with working knowledge of the scenario and a kind of false confidence to get through the ordeal; and ultimately, it's the confidence that bags you the woman. The same goes for self help books, relationship salvage books, and so on. The moment you stop wallowing in self pity and worrying about constantly how you're going to make something work out, the sooner you can actually get down to MAKING it work. That's how these things go. There is no such thing as a free lunch.

So in the interest of free competition I will say all these self help books and guides and various branches of e-service commerces have their own unique selling points, but all of them are pivotal majorly upon your belief in yourself and your commitment to a cause, and ultimately, that isn't something you can buy for the low, low online price of $39.99.

Still though, more than anything, you need to sit down on your own once in a while and really think out what you want. And once you know for sure what it is exactly you are striving to achieve, the rest gets simpler. Obviously there are initial hurdles to cross, and every case is unique, but more often than not, a person who sets their mind to achieving a plausible and acceptable task will more often than not achieve that task - David and Goliath tales are far more common than we think and it only takes looking around at the wide world of experience surrounding us to make us aware of it.

Power of the guides? Hell I say its the power of your minds. So apply them positively please. And if you find a decent 'How To Get Rich By Offering Shitty Advice on a Blog No One Reads' guide, please be sure to forward it to me!

-Zo

Bond Hits the Bigscreen... Then Slides Off Like a Dead Fly

2008-11-01T14:49:00.003Z

Yes, I just used the proverbial bug splat against the windshield metaphor to describe the new spy-flick, Quantum of Solace.

Sadly, the only quantum of solace I found was the fact that the film, mercifully, did end, after prattling on for almost two hours.

Slow would be the best way to describe the newest installment in the series. Slow, and slightly more braindead. The thing that set Daniel Craig out from the other Bonds before him was the gritty dark violence that surrounded him, and how he would unleash it in expressive bursts of close quarters combat, as well as his pin-prick-tight skills with a fire arm.

Sadly, Bond fails to get his hands very dirty in this newest installment, with the majority of the action that would make you go "Ooh" and "Aah" being settled within the first 45 minutes.

The rest of the film? Slow plot devices, comical dark humour, and succinct references to memorable Bond nostalgia - the Martini, shaken not stirred scene was pretty much just thrown in to fill an extra 3 minutes of film reel.

There are no gadgets. Except, well, Bond's cellphone which has a convenient face recognition software. Nothing too clever to take into the field (indeed the majority of MI6's technology budget seems to be spent on installing video screens in M's home and, oddly, bathroom).

Perhaps it is too much to compare it to Casino Royale. It does not come from the same direction nor does it explore Bond's psyche in the same depth (in QoS it seems almost cursory), and his character seems to have taken a bit of an erratic twist considering the finesse he worked so hard to achieve by the end of Casino Royale. Perhaps I was just expecting a lot more, considering the massive potential the film had. Still, I almost fell asleep nearing the climax of the tale, and that should tell you a little something.

There are still explosions, gunfire, and beautiful women out for vengeance. The sound and ambiance is a bit poor though. Interestingly enough, there were more advertisements prior to the start of the movie than any I've ever seen - a good 15-20 minutes worth of JUST commercials. It should tell you something about the profitability of the franchise, and in the true spirit of it, I'm sure MGM will still be raking the dollars in, regardless of the poor effort they have undoubtedly made to please audiences.

-Z0

Before the Red Pill

2008-10-29T17:43:00.003Z

Says it all, really.

Every Time You Use Poor Grammar...

2008-10-27T21:56:00.003Z

Every time you (yes, you) use poor grammar:

Kittens get fired out of cannons into pits full of pirhanas.

A dog chews its own legs off and starves to death.

All those intelligent people through history who contributed positively to the gene pool do a collective turn in their graves.

Perhaps one of the greatest Facebook applications created was the They're/There/Their test. It is a class test that divides people into those that can correctly identify appropriate usage of grammar in a variety of situations, and, put simply, those that couldn't. I can visualise a future where a person takes an annual grammar test, then gets the result tattooed onto their arm as a special barcode that has an annually renewed database.

To be allowed to leave their homes and interact with the general public, there would be introduced an average level necessary (something in the region of 85%). Any lower and that person should have to stay at home for the next year and work on their grammar and vocabulary. In this way we could take a very big step towards restricting the spread of uneducation through society.

Though I could just be neurotic and insane.

Still, the following exchange just took place in front of me.

Friend A: I just went to three different libraries to get all the books I needed.

Friend B: Wow, that's some serious determinism.

It took every fibre of my being to keep me from splurting out, "Maybe YOU should spend more time in the f****ing library! It's determination!"

Was I a bit too cruel? Perhaps, but that is a discussion for a different day. And on this forum I am exempt from critique. Muahaha.

-Zo

The Dissection of a Lover

2008-10-27T00:55:00.006Z

So my better half Emilie was having a mild mannered conversation with me the other day that erupted in profanity and incredulity. Apparently Emilie was not taking well to the fact that I had written little to nothing about her on my blog (which you sadly are reading).

Despite my feeble attempts to state that my blog was solely to pick at and ridicule various facets of culture and societal life, Emilie demanded some form of tribute (the demand followed by a colourful "Asshole!" comment).

So I played with the idea in my head for a few days, being counter productive as ever, and just as I was drawing something of a conclusion as to what I should write about, Emilie unveiled this on her blog.

Anatomy of a Lover

Needless to say, I was awestruck by her dazzling piece, which played very subtly at both my narcissism and my heart strings (I often fail to differentiate between the two of them).

To that end, I present the following small piece. It is soppy. It is romantic. And it is out of theme with the rest of the content of this blog. But rest assured, it it not for you, oh anonymous readers, but is instead in memoriam to the woman in my life.

Emilie; I remember the first time I met you. It was an relatively moderate January day, as far as days in Manchester go. You were about a half hour late, blaming it on the bus. I smiled and went into a few of the shops, looking at the various music albums and DVDs that were on sale, trying my utmost not to think about what we'd talk about.

The first thing i noticed when I met you was your beautiful smile. And like a healthy helping of whipped cream on top, you had some of the straightest teeth I'd ever seen (and you knew little at the time how put off I was by bad teeth!).

I remember your powerful perfume. You changed it to the vanilla-ey one you use now, but it used to be that spicy smell that I always associated with Mont Blanc for some reason. I still remember how the scent filled my senses and drove me wild the first time I kissed you, and ran my hand through your hair.

I remember the first time we made love. We were both so unsure of what was going on between us, and where this was going, and despite all the hindrances, we are where we are now, 9 and a half months into this relationship.

I'm not going to lie. This is the longest relationship I've been in for a long while. And despite all my fears and inner beliefs that the system of a monoamourous relationship was flawed, you pulled me through to the other side, and made me feel that there was actually something worth building a future around.

You comforted me through my fears, and in turn confided in me your own. You sought protection and endearment from me and it served as a constant reminder to me how much you care about us. Your jealousy, and your possessive nature both make me smile, and rather than be put off by it as some would undoubtedly would be, I welcome it into my life because it characterizes the meaning our relationship has and gives it manifest expression (this may only be making sense to me, by the way).

I love when you tell me your little secrets and your fears, and even if they worry me I don't fret, because I care about you now more than I could ever possibly care about myself. And that, well, as they say, is that.

I love you, and I think in a strange way, whatever happens between us in the future, I always will love you, because even if I'd had troubling experiences and romantic drama's in the past, I don't think I realised the true nature of love until I met you. It makes me want to climb the tallest mountain, and standing on the summit, yell till my lungs give way. It makes me want to swim the English channel to France, so that I can see you.

The distance kills me, like I know it kills you, but hang in there gorgeous, 'coz we're survivors.

I'm not going to paint this in fancy colours because they're black and white words, painting (as clearly as I can express) my emotions, and dressing them up would take away from the reality and depth of their meaning (also, I'm too lazy!).

And yeah, that's it. :p Sorry it's a bit long Emilie, but at least it will give you something less boring to read than classic English literature. :)

Love you so much gorgeous.

-Zo

Biker Mice from... Baghdad? And The War to Date

2008-10-26T23:19:00.002Z

This recent BBC video-story came to my attention earlier today and I felt compelled to share it with the (few) people who regularly follow my blog:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7624472.stm

Essentially, the story points out the entertainment factor of biker-boys going around doing tricks on large stretches of tarmac. It points out that such activities would not have been possible during the era of Saddam (perhaps just another hint of affirmation that the coalition forces were in the right to invade Iraq), and that despite Baghdad being the meat grinder it has been over the past few years, the story points out that there is still light at the end of the tunnel.

But what about the blatant reality behind that of what the story is exhibiting?

Most countries, be they developed or developing, have strict rules relating to the use of motorvehicles. For example in the UK, safety gear is compulsory, 'quadbikes' are outlawed, and a host of other regulations. Similar is the case in the US. And continental Europe. And most Asian countries too. The law actively seeks to protect citizens by outlawing dangerous practices in and on motorvehicles.

So what does it tell you about the law and order situation in Iraq that individuals can go out, wearing no harnesses or no gear at all, and pull off various shenanigans without risk of reproach? It shows that Baghdad security forces are stretched thin, to say the least. As actively distributed as they are in maintaining the peace, watching out for suicide and other varieties of bombers, along with lots of protesters, insurgents, and collateral civilians being killed in the fray, the security forces very likely have their hands very full.

Now I'm not condemning the activities of the bikers. Certainly, I'm no killjoy. But what's going to happen when one of those bikers falls off on his head and has to be rushed to the hospital with cranial and spinal damage? Or, in a less serious scenario, a concussion even? The hospitals are full. Treatment is at breaking point, with countless victims of the war pouring in day by day.

They say that a good war is short and sweet. What defines short and sweet, though? Now that we have the luxury of hindsight, we can see that World War II, spanning from 1939 to around 1944, didn't last much more than five or so years. Tens of millions lost their lives, but it was considered a just war for a just cause (that being, to end the Nazi oppression. I would hate for people to construe that by 'just war' I was including the actions of the Nazi's against non-combatants).

The war on terror? Well, its well into the one million casualties mark, and entering its 7th year of action. And how do we look upon it? Well, the scourge of our time may be an understatement. A lot of people just don't get it anymore. And a hell of a lot more have grown indifferent to the daily news reports coming in of tens and hundreds of people getting killed. Back in 2001 it was something that could make you choke. Now? We have our morning coffee over news of massacres. It's sad that humanity has managed to distance itself so much from the primal actions of its vassals. We may think that, "Well I don't support so and so war, and it has nothing to do with me." But the fact is that as human beings, it has everything to do with us. Every time we turn a blind eye to an innocent civilian being killed, we carry the weight of the injustice they have suffered. We call it collateral damage, but how far must we honestly have fallen into barbarity to use such a vague term to encompass everything from old men, to women and even small children.

To that end you have to think about the biker boys of Baghdad. They've gotten a raw deal, and they're doing the best they can from it. We may smile at their foolish antics, but should we dare forget that it's us, the people from the so called civilized segments of society that have turned a blind eye on them, and that we are partly if not wholly to blame for the poor conditions they have to suffer under, then we have truly forgotten what it is to be human.

-Zo

Saturday Plight, and Burn After Reading

2008-10-19T02:28:00.004+01:00

The Film.

So my friend Mark and I (it always irks me that is is always 'X and I'. Why can't I say 'Me and X'? Curse you, fickle Gods of grammar!) went to watch the new Coen brother's movie, Burn After Reading.

I, myself, was blissfully unaware exactly as to who the Coen pair were, despite the numerous decent movies they had made over the years (and cult favourite Lebowski no less). This unawareness was perhaps due to simple ignorance, but partly also because never before had I been so profoundly 'pissed off', for lack of a choice of better words, at their work.

Burn After Reading has to be, without a doubt, one of the worst movies to have come out this year, and that's saying something. It's not because of its sad attempts at humour (falling flat on its face somewhere between the likes of In Bruges and Pineapple Express, to name something recent; one relying on subtle undertones of dark humour, the other relying on out of place statements made in a comedic manner).

No, there was none of the slapstick you see in most comedies. There was very little originality. And to be very honest, I think the best part of the movie were the last fifteen to twenty minutes. Very, very disappointing, and a very slow start. I won't give anything away, but the only remotely funny character is introduced nearly halfway into the film, and his role ends very cruelly and abruptly.

Anyway, I'm not a film critic, and that's not what this blog is generally about, so I'll move on.

The Day.

So it is - or, well, was, as of 2 hours ago - Saturday. It was also, mercifully, one of the first weekends I've actually had off after several long weeks of travelling and other such misadventures.

So I decided I would have a bit of a lie in, but still have a semi productive day. Yeah, well that didn't happen. Lay around all day, did absolutely nothing. Didn't work on my writing or anything remotely academic either (though I did read a newspaper... though that's only brownie points in case my dad logs on to read this at some point).

Bitching and moaning about my day aside, I decided I would engage in some wholesome gaming. I pulled out a copy of Final Fantasy 8 and popped it into my old PS2... and realised almost 30 minutes into the game that I had not owned a PS One memory card since about 2001. Fuck.

So thinking quick, I logged onto eBay and bought a new one for £3. Score. Bad news? It would probably not ship out till Monday, or Tuesday if it was a particularly shit service. This meant that I wouldn't have it till Wednesday or Thursday. I contemplated the logic behind keeping my PS2 on until Thursday so I could save my data - then grudgingly dismissed the idea.

Now a few of you who intimately know me and my life (hubba hubba) would also know that I own a Playstation 3. And furthermore those of you who have some understanding of technical specifications of the system would be thinking, "Hold on Zo. The PS3 has backwards compatibility. Why didn't you just pop your game in that and play? You could save the data straight to the hard drive too. Everyone but the kids in Afghanistan would be happy."

Sadly, this was not to be the case - except the kids in Afghanistan part. Joke as I may, those little tykes seriously have it bad. Anyway, fuckit that isn't what this rant is about.

So when I first discovered the problem that my Final Fantasy 8 would not work on my PS3, I logged onto the Playstation forums in a (self) righteous rage, kicking electronic vestibules over as I made my rant.

It turns out there is a list of supported games, and though Final Fantasy 7 and 9 are on it, 8 has been left out like the ugly friend that isn't allowed into the club. I could have used the ugly duckling example there, but whatever, I feel like offending people today.

Anyway so fuck that, it doesn't work. Nothing can be done. Boo hoo. So I forced myself to switch the game off and sat down in a corner and cried. It was at this point that I decided I would finish some of the old games I had that I eventually got sick of or never finished (a lot of these were because I would have Andy or Gaz playing them at the old house, and the fuckers would finish the games before I even got a go, thus ruining all prospects of enjoying the story for me).

Popped in Assassins Creed, and I was on my way.

And well, that's what I've been doing for the past 2 hours or so. I reckon I'm going to slay a few billion more baddies and carry out a few more monotonous assassinations (Altair needs some serious tips from Number 47) before I call it a night.

Also, I've been pestering people to send me in legal issues to write about on my blog. If you know you're one of those people I should be asking and are willfully hiding such information from me, shame on you.

Right, that's all for today. See you on the flipside.

-Zo

On Exes, Buses, Shopping, and The Law

2008-10-15T16:03:00.013+01:00

This is going to be a rather long post, the reason for which is that I haven't written anything in for the past week even though I have almost been itching to (even as I type this now, there are small ideas wanting to come out as big words, pitter pattering around my mind). No seriously, they really do pitter patter.

As such, for the sake of lucidity, this post will be broken into a small manageable chunks. It also gives you the luxury of picking up right where you left off after falling into a dazed stupor due to the ridiculously dull content of my blog (imagine, if this was in person right now, I would cue on a dancing lobster. Cha! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, you nay sayers!)

Right, enough with the small-talk, on with the show!

Exes.

Nothing gives you quite as much pleasure as, a few years down the line, you think back fondly to a time when your heart was ripped viciously from a gaping, bloody wound in your chest, only to have it devoured by an egotistic she-devil content with the utter demise of your soul.

Am I exaggerating? Perhaps a tad. We all seem to remember traumatic break ups, and as time passes, they seem to have hurt less and less (cutting your wrists and tattooing their name on your forehead eventually dies down to 'minor scratches on your arms' and 'makeup streaks on your face', etc.).

I'm not going to be cliched and say time heals everything. That's just ridiculous. What I do propose is the theory of self change. A person changes as time passes, for better or for worse, and more often than not, to shield him or her self from the perceived horrors they have suffered. In that sense, it's not that time is healing your wounds, it's that time has allowed you to develop your character in such a way that you think back and realise that it wasn't such a big deal. And as time passes, your character begins to identify the traits it looks for in a person, and when you find that special someone - well, this blog isn't for chatting about happy endings. It's about the cruel, restless moments you spent reaching them. So we'll stop short just there.

But yes, what about your former other half? (or halves, as the plural would be, yet would it be appropriate in this situation? If you dates four people previously, would they be your four former halves? I wonder...)

Where did that troublesome ex who left you crying and screaming and cursing the day you were born go?

Most probably? Time changed them too, and they went through their own unique set of experiences. And then you run into them, ten years down the line, and think, "Ha, I'm still hot, successful, funny, and in the most perfect relationship. You? You've gotten fat, ugly, wrinkly, unpleasant, and you smell of sour milk." (Feel free, of course, to insert the respective insults of your choosing.)

Nowadays, these run-ins can be facilitated through cunning Facebook exploration.

So go on, the next time you need a little cheering up, Facebook stalk your ex and see how hideous they have become.

There is the potential for this to backfire however, so I would be wary...

Buses.

There are few things I hate more in the world than things not running according to schedule. If I take time out of my day to be somewhere to do or see or participate in something that is scheduled to begin at a specific time, then I would darn well appreciate if it would start at that bloody time. I say this out of respect for the rest of my commitments in a day, and I'm sure most of you would agree. No one should have to stand around looking like an idiot waiting for a bus that should have shown up 20 minutes ago. Or a train. Or a TV show. Or a date. You know what I mean.

Due to poor foresight and the advice of the ill-advised, I have chosen the region of Manchester designated Chorlton (or more specifically, Whalley Range) to be my home till at least December. That said, the public transportation to and from here is absolutely pants.

I'm talking about one lousy bus service (the infamous 85) running across a significant stretch of area on its own. The 85 is ALWAYS late. Or extremely early. This is something you can bet on beyond the shadow of a doubt. Hell could freeze over but your friendly, neighbourhood 85 bus will take its time to put on some tyre-treads, then be on its merry way - an hour late. Bus drivers on the 85 service often feel it their duty to taunt would-be passengers, and so drive off without stopping even though you're flagging them desperately at a designated bus stop, drenched in rain and puddle water (this is, after all, Manchester).

Seriously, if my only job was to make sure something ran at a specific time, I'd do it just out of the fact that I would be ashamed of taking the money for the job otherwise. Either that, or the fact a disgruntled customer may walk through the door one day and take a screwdriver to my head.

To top it off, Manchester City Council is planning to introduce a congestion charge. I'm sorry but you won't get my support on that until you sort out some of the ridiculously dire transport situations towards this side of town. Pretty much the only reliable form of transport for people living here is owning a car. If you make that harder for them, well... they'll poo on your head or something. I don't know.

Also, there is literally no night service. For an area with this many students and residents, this is actually startling. The last service is at 11:30pm. After that? Well good luck, you're stuck. Even before then, you rarely wait less than a half hour before the bus finally shows up. It's sickening. And everyday I stand around at the lousy bus stop fuming about it.

Shopping.

So I was at the local Morrisons the other day. Ordinarily I go to Asda to do my groceries; not only does it have a much greater variety of goods to choose from, but the prices are more competitive than some of the other stores. Alas, constrained by ridiculously shitty bus services, and the perpetual rain, I decided to pop in to Morrisons to get the bare essentials.

Everything was going well till I paid at the till. I noticed the bill was larger than it should have been, and had a look at my receipt. It turns out, the reason Morrisons list their goods at a lower price is so that they can charge you VAT at the end. Value Added Tax is applicable to the sale of all goods in the UK, and the majority of products show the VAT already included on their prices. Morrisons however, in a bid to make their prices seem lower, were displaying pre-VAT prices, but adding the VAT on at the till. It was somewhat ridiculous seeing some of the items on my receipt having been charged VAT, while the other 'brand' goods were listed at the displayed price.

Sneaky bastards they are. I'd ideally like to sit a Morrisons representative down at some point and ask them what exactly they're getting at with this kind of deception. At the end of the day though, no one will pay attention to poor little old me.

Still, I'm pretty sure that this is a violation of the sale of goods principle; displaying one price explicitly designed for that product, but charging another. Misrepresentation if I ever saw it. Someone with a lot of free time and extra cash should sue.

The Law.

I'm sorry, I just cant control myself. I have to do this little skit. It won't take long, promise!

Ahem. *coughs*

"I am.... THE LAW!" *puts on menacing grimace*

Judge Dredd impressions aside, I have been thinking lately, and I want to start a commentary blog on legal matters. Often lay people have very restricted access to the law; and where they can find it, they end up paying ridiculous solicitor prices just for consultation. I'll be setting up a dedicated email address where people should feel free to email me about any legal queries they have, and I'll try to feature them on the blog whenever I can, and give out some free advice in the process. Obviously not yet being a qualified solicitor, I highly recommend you do not rely on what I ramble on about fully, and the purpose of the blog should just be to enlighten you a little bit more about various issues that may be going around you at any time (if you do feel confident you have a case I would recommend approaching a qualified solicitor for more advice). My personal opinion is that if your rights are being infringed, you have every right to know about it, and more so, every right to challenge it.

Till I have it set up, feel free to email me at zohashim@gmail.com with any legal queries you may have, and hopefully within the week I'll have it up and running.

Right that's all I had in my head for today. Hope you all have a good day now, and if there's sunshine out where you are, please, pray to your respective gods that it may shine on Manchester one of these days (seriously, it gets depressing at times!).

-Zo

Guidance Failure: We're Going to Crash!

2008-10-08T22:28:00.003+01:00

So I had a miniature, in-my-head-but-not-really-noticeable-on-my-facial-expressions sort of anxiety attack yesterday. I didn't cry, or pass out, or anything as dramatic. I just wanted to sit down and wonder what the hell was going on. The fact that I was in the middle of an Asda didn't seem to make much of a difference. It was just a culmination of recent stress, constant travelling for mundane tasks, and worries.

The biggest worry though, surprise surprise, was my fear of what will become of me in the future.

"Where do you see yourself ten years from now?"

To be very honest, when I was twelve, life looked a whole lot better than what it seems like now. Hell, what do I know? I didn't know what porn, alcohol, STD's and taxes were. It's like something someone once told me - you can get older, but your problems and worries just get more serious. And your troubles from last year just seem more childish than anything. But there must come a pinnacle, an apex if you will, when you have reached the paramount of your worries. When does that happen? I seriously hope it's not when my house is getting repossessed and I'm trying to deal with a teenage daughter set to be a mother. Oh the horror.

Still, I can imagine how life could get a little bit better, once I get the hurdle of figuring out a job prospect and moving on to the next stage of my life out of the way.

Something I did do though, and I'd recommend this, is some exercise. It really helps clear your mind; and clarity is always a good thing - especially when you're stealing diamonds.

So yes, that's the extent of my post for the day. I'm a little tired and I have another long journey to London tomorrow. *sigh*

Still, got a rocking weekend to look forward to!

-Zo

F@$% Off to eBay!

2008-10-06T17:47:00.004+01:00

There are, sadly, many things in the world that infuriate me. The abuse of power. The usurping of basic rights and liberties. The abuse of said rights or liberties.

But there is something that annoys me so much that it warrants a special mention today. And that special something is SPAM MAIL.

Now there are two variants of Spam mail. One is the conventional crap you get that gets filtered to your junk mail folder that you never need to worry about again. You know the ones I'm talking about - the ones that, through very grammatically poor sentences and paragraphs, attempt to get your bank details so that you can be transferred a small African fortune that some deceased fellow nor his government no longer need.

Those, in their own right, are annoying, but more often than not you can laugh at their idiocy, or even laugh at the thought of someone accepting those said offers (I'm sorry if anyone has been the victim of such a crime, but to be honest, you have to be a friggin' jackass to think that you'd actually get something for nothing).

No, the type of mail I'm going to address is spam mail from colleagues and fellow students, trying to sell you crap.

Anyone that goes to University should be well aware of this malady; how people on their course send emails to the whole course template advertising the sale of books they no longer need and wish to sell to support their drug and alcohol habits. Fair enough, they perfectly have every right to sell their no longer needed property, but honestly, does my email inbox have to look like this every morning?

You'll notice how I've blacked every one's name out, all CIA style, and how I also went overboard, plastering CLASSIFIED down the side. But enough about that.

Everyday, I get somewhere in the region of 20-30 emails from people trying to sell books that I don't want, or need. And they do it on one of the most important email servers available - the University email service, where all my important course related emails go too. The last thing I need is to have to wade through piles of crap every morning to reach the emails that I need.

Seriously, if you want to sell your books, there is a time and a place. Go to eBay. Sell it to a 2nd hand book store. Hell, set up a stall outside the respective building of your course. I do not care. What you effectively do by sending mass emails out is the same as walking up to people's doors and trying to sell them your things. People tell door to door and travelling salesmen to f*** off. You tell telemarketers to f*** themselves. Well I say beyond a shadow of a doubt that you fall into the same category.

Seriously, stop this insanity! Rant out.

-Zo

Cramps, Woes, Worries and More Travel

2008-10-03T14:41:00.000+01:00

The colour of today is gray. I say that because I am wearing a gray t-shirt, with gray pyjama bottoms. My duvet cover is gray, and the light filtering in through the blinds is making my white walls look gray.

I feel lazy as hell today. And thats precisely the reason I've been pushing myself. I figure if I can force productivity out of myself at a time when I should statistically be least productive, I should have a pretty good overall average. Or, well, it's a theory.

I decided to start going to the gym again. After a year of being a total lard ass, I can tell you with the quaver of fear in my voice that only a broken man could summon that I am...well...broken? I went back into my old routine with as much force as I used to - with the ensuing result being that I can barely move my arms now. If I lean forward, my lower back hurts. If I lean back, my abdomen kicks in. Nice.

Other than that, I'm off to London today. Celebrating a late Eid with the family, so it should be pretty good fun.

And finally - I have decided to take a more serious approach to my writing. It happened while thinking over the prospects of my career, and whether I would have a job next year or not, and I decided it was necessary to see just how much water my stronger skills hold. I have 6 incomplete manuscripts and I hope to have atleast one of them done and polished before the end of the year.

Fingers crossed.

Right well that's all I have for you today. No witty humour, no puns.

Oh go on then, I'll throw in a little joke. What's big and blue?

...

Yeah, I'll leave it at that.

-Zo

Why You Shouldn't Lick Behind the Fridge

2008-09-29T23:48:00.000+01:00

Now that I have your attention, I should probably point out that this article actually has nothing to do with licking behind fridges at all. Though it is a ghastly potentially fatal habit, it will not be addressed by me today (though keep your eyes open in the future).

No, the title was designed purely to get your attention. And that is what this article is about. Getting attention.

I have a confession to make. I Zohaib am an attention whore. That's right, let out all the shocks and ooh's and ah's now (though the one thought I couldn't bear to think of is that no one is actually reading this....noooooooooo...)

So yes, I love attention in all its forms and manifestations. I like to be the one you look at on the bus. I like to be the one you glare at after you see the graffiti on your wall. Heck, I don't even mind being the guy you racially profile just because I'm walking next to a crime scene. I love it all. I love it from both straight and gay people (it's good to know you have somewhere to fall back on if it all goes to hell). I love it from doctors, nurses, scientists, video game geeks, role playing fanatics and quite possibly S & M enthusiasts too (never really tried it but hey I'm still young).

So you can understand how I feel when I don't get flyer'd.

Yes, take your time and re-read it. Most of you will be like, "What the f***, that's not even a word." And you would be right, except it is a subjective term I have decided to adopt to embody the action of the common homo sapienus flyer distributus. That's right, your common garden and house hold variety flyer distributor. Let me explain.

Though not quite as common in London, the majority of Manchester's club-touring class consists of students. And everyone knows the best way to rope in students is to show them offers and bargains for cheap liquor and thumping tunes (though this trend generally doesn't change as we get older - just students are less subtle about it).

So the clubs and bars often hire intrepid, minimum wage paid individuals to bear the ridiculous wind, rain and chavs to go out on their holy mission to distribute as many flyers as possible to as many people as possible. Often these fellows are paid a commission or bonus for every flyer that manages to make its way back to their club or bar of employment (the cards offer discounts on production at entry, etc). So most flier-ers are out throwing flyers left right and centre at anyone that will have one in the hopes of upping their income.

I have a particularly bad time with flyer distributors - mostly because they ignore me. The same will go for most of those charity workers out there who stop you in the middle of the street asking for donations and such to help various maladies around the world.

I am literally the only person stood there that doesn't get flyer'd or pestered for money. Heck, I am about as soft-hearted as they come for a cause; I'd donate the second someone asked me. But alas, no one does. They instead target the woman with a crying baby who tells them to f*** themselves, or the man in a suit with a cellphone taped to his face who ignores their existence entirely.

And it isn't like I want the flyers either. Heck I'll probably say no and not take one at all. But isn't it more polite to ask? Is it not, I put to you sir, the thought that counts?

But no, alas, I am ignored, and my efforts to catch their eye goes unrewarded. Perhaps it is the grim set I have to my jaw when I am out and about (the England cold has set a permanent clench to my mouth you see), or it may be the way I look (more of a stoner than a raver you think?).

Oh well, lets see what the future holds. In any case, if you're reading this, you darn well better leave a comment; the attention is dear to me!

-Zo