Not enough time to do a full diary entry today so just some quick notes about the last week or so to whet your appetite and to remind myself later...
Alright Slit, you know the way I keep neglecting to tell you anything exciting that happened on holiday? (isn't getting headbutted by a cow enough for you!?!) Well you're gonna hate me for neglecting to mention the story about the guy in the bar window at Lucknow.
I forgot all about this, but as I mentioned earlier I've got my India diary with me, which I'm keeping my personal diary in for this holiday and I was having a little read cos the rest of todays entries were just not funny enough (cos nothin happens round here) and I stumbled across this gem. This is one I shoulda mentioned round at your birds house mate!
So there we were, Me and Sarah in the bar down in the basement of our hotel in Lucknow just chattin away all night about everything under the sun and, halfway through the night she asks me to keep her seat warm while she goes for piss right.
As she leaves she walks past this guy at the door who she notices has been staring at her through the window while we've been talkin and notes that he stares at her all the way into the bogs and she's a little perturbed but thinks nothin more of it because by then we are used to getting stared at anyway. I noticed him out the corner of my eye staring while we were talkin, but when he disappeared from the window I thought nothin of it and get back to my pint.
Sarah comes back from the pisser and says to me "I think you should come with me next time" and naturally I thought it was neither the time nor the place for such immorality and had to question her motives. "Because, you see that freaky guy at the window? I just saw him with his trousers around his ankles having a wank!"
Sheeeeeeeee-yat!!!
I couldn't believe my ears. A lot of the guys in India are sexually frustrated but I hadn't realised quite how frustrated - I mean I went on to write about the internet chat room incident on that same day, which I told you about but how the fuck did I forget this one!?! I just keep you hangin on mate! You know you love it!
The last entry in the diary starts with the words, "I have been in hospital for the last 3 days/2 nights...", which aint a bad way to end a diary if you ask me.
There's another one in here too from Nepal that I forgot to mention - it's the one where I took the shortcut through the jungle at night instead of walking along the road. It's well funny! But as usual you'll just have to wait...
Another gem I picked up in my diary. 28 September 2002 I stuck an article in there that gave me and Uy a right hoot...
"A fertility clinic in Bristol issued an urgent appeal yesterday for sperm donors. The centre for Reproductive Medicine, which treats 150-200 infertile couples each year, has just one regular donor making deposits in its sperm bank compared with 20 five years ago"
Slit, it's not a coincidence that you met your bird at Bristol methinks...
It's usually about halfway through any holiday that I start thinkin about what I'm gonna put on deck one when I get home. World travel, as most of you reading this will no doubt know, it the ultimate test of a mans compilation making skillz and only the best man will survive on his compilations alone.
However, when it comes to compilations I am NOT the best man despite having put some crackers together in my life, like the awesome “Compilation Tape 1” which saw me through the whole of Ghana for 3 months but then got fucked in a tropical rainstorm in India, and the pretty good “Miscellaneous wicked songs for long journeys” which is in the MD player now and includes such classics as Jolly Mukherjee and the Madras cinematic Orchestra “Kirwani” (Badmarsh and Shri mix), DHLs “Favourite Girl” (Original not Sunship mix) and The Only Ones “Another Girl, Another Planet”. Great compilations but I still have a bit of work to do on the names…
But even with my skills, my appetite for new forms (Not Roni Sizes album – overrated) soon has me wanting more but also wanting control of those old familiar tunes which leads me to the topic of the day. This trip the urge for new sounds has been sated by listening to Vietnamese radio and has lead to me discovering perhaps the only good thing about Southern California – they love classic rock. All day it’s classic Vietnamese then Rolling Stones, The Who, Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen etc. It’s great. But I still want control. So I’ve compiled a list of the top ten tunes from my collection that will go on decks one and two as and when I get home and will take the time out to justify some of them as far as I can be arsed.
Any other suggestions? Mail me on the usual if there’s anything I really should hear and to dispute my choice, cos only YOU can force me to listen to something else when I get home.
Also can you send me a list of the greatest books you have ever read please. I want to read stuff. Cheers.
Doh! I'm not on the road today as previously reported, but hold your horses bitches - The best things come to those who wait for Me.
Tiny change of plan cos of stuff going on here (again), which has meant that I only got round to buying the tickets last night, and it was only then that I remembered that my lack of planning and organisational ability has dumped me in the financial shit so many times that I should have known that last night was probably a bad time to be buyin for an exit today.
So here I am in Orange County again, probably sounding like a dreamer who dreams of a better life elsewhere but never gets round to it. It's quite humiliating really. But on the plus side I get to stay here and go to the legendary Thanksgiving party that my aunt, Di 7 holds every year round her house in Orange County AND I got the bargain of the century on the Amtrak website. I clicked through the tiny rail sale link in the bottom lefthand corner and saved a cool $100 by putting my trip to Seattle back by a week, so I got my ticket for $41.20 via Portland where I'm spending a day. That's cheaper than an IKEA table and chair set. And they say I'm becoming domestic.
By the way Cez and anyone else who cares, I've now got pics of my ass on the web at last at http://photos.yahoo.com/andytgeezer. Sorry they're not very pornographic but they're better than nothin I'm sure you'll agree. Or actually you probably wouldn't. It's your life.
Doh! I'm not on the road today as previously reported, but hold your horses bitches - The best things come to those who wait for Me.
Tiny change of plan cos of stuff going on here (again), which has meant that I only got round to buying the tickets last night, and it was only then that I remembered that my lack of planning and organisational ability has dumped me in the financial shit so many times that I should have known that last night was probably a bad time to be buyin for an exit today.
So here I am in Orange County again, probably sounding like a dreamer who dreams of a better life elsewhere but never gets round to it. It's quite humiliating really. But on the plus side I get to stay here and go to the legendary Thanksgiving party that my aunt, Di 7 holds every year round her house in Orange County AND I got the bargain of the century on the Amtrak website. I clicked through the tiny rail sale link in the bottom lefthand corner and saved a cool $100 by putting my trip to Seattle back by a week, so I got my ticket for $41.20 via Portland where I'm spending a day. That's cheaper than an IKEA table and chair set. And they say I'm becoming domestic.
By the way Cez and anyone else who cares, I've now got pics of my ass on the web at last at http://photos.yahoo.com/andytgeezer. Sorry they're not very pornographic but they're better than nothin I'm sure you'll agree. Or actually you probably wouldn't. It's your life.
The woes of the World stem from preservation of self
The pursuit of riches in material wealth
but the Real Riches are already there in your heart
In the end you finish with what you start
Andy 2002
The wealth of your Self cannot be measured in pounds
True Love doesn't appear when you sleep around
Respect isn't gained just cos you gained ground
Open your heart and these things will be found
Andy 2002
Be the Truth, don't live a lie
It's the only thing you take when you die
If you stay on the ground you will learn to fly
If you weigh yourself down you will fall from the sky
Andy 2002
Your material riches are just an illusion
Real Love is the title, contents and conclusion
If you chase the shadows you will miss the prize
In the race feel the Now and don't look behind
Andy 2002
The way of The Truth is not hard to find
You do nothing more than just clear your mind
The beauty of All is there to find
Give up yourself and let your light shine
Andy 2002
Forget what you've learnt, your knowledge is weak
Wisdom is spoken by He Who Does Not Speak
The Tao is the teaching that you cannot teach
True Wisdom that the Meek alone will reach
Andy 2002
How can you learn when you cannot see?
How can you be happy if you cannot Be?
How can you run when you cannot stand?
Happiness and Truth walk in hand-in-hand
Andy 2002
head
ahh...I attended an Abbey National Corporate Cocksucking Conference today at the Kensington Hilton and sat next to this gorgeous Hanna bird...
I soo wanted to stroke her. My head is splattered. I wanna get to know London more, get to know a dozen cultures and languages; I've been in love with languages for ages and have recently fallen in love with (my friend and his) culture and cultures in general. I wanna be a UN ambassador and mediate conflicts between places like Iran and Belfast, speaking rapid Irish to the bloke on my right and then turning head to Farsi to the bloke on my left and explaining to them that they both have a great clubbing scene and that is perhaps something that they could use as common ground and then save the world from the brink of war. And then donate a few years' income to helping end third world debt. Corporations are great, sometimes; today's Lessons in Head were great, cos instead of being wired up to Head Office's Indoctrination machine, we played games and role plays and did acting and shit and all 70 of us white menopausal women (39-61 years of age, average 2 children, 1.5 marriages, 2.3 homes, 2 mortgages, 3 savings accounts) danced to 'Reach' by S Club in the name of the holy Abbey National. It was great. The only thing I don't understand is how corporations can sit there drinking espresso coffee, the beans of which were handpicked by sexually abused slaves in Peru and Colombia, wearing leather suedes (me too) and fur coats (made from the real skin of tortured animals), discussing how to improve customer service so as to raise profits by the target 6.7% whilst millions of third-world citizens are worried about where their next fucking meal/cup of drinking water is coming from ro whether some fucknut is gonna rape them because he, through the misguidance of voodoo doctors, is under the impression that raping a young virgin female will cure him of HIV. Deepa, my beloved Malaysian sister says that if we all gave 10% of our earnings to help third world poverty, there would be none in several years' time. At this scabby rate, it's gonna take longer than it does for George Bush to fucking tell the time in a fucking watchmaker's. What the fuck am I gonna DO?
I have all this shit inside my head which has recently begun to grow even more exponentially (?) than usual. Not gonna waste your time shitting it all out, cos I need to sleep too, actually, but rush hour culture? Culturally diverse London/cultural integration/international social integration/environmental awareness/animal rights/human rights. Help! There's about 80 years left in my life, if I lay off the fags, weed, booze and get (more) sex (any at all will do nicely)...can it be done? Not sure, actually, no way, on my own, that's dumb, but what can I start/catalyse/what exisiting things can I boost/kickstart that will maybe make this dream (?) feasible?
peace
and love
I did offer him the chance to air his own opinion in the personals section and get me back for all the public abuse he has got from me over the last 2 weeks but he declined so I decided to do it myself...
Personals
Andy - You're a fucking cunt! Stop patronising me, you fucking bastard, actin like you're my fucking big brother or somethin you cock! Don't you think I've got enough of an inferiority complex because of my tiny manhood and the fact that I still haven't got laid yet!? Stop fucking taking the piss out of me just cos I'm going through puberty and hence have to copiously masturbate all the time and talk about girls - I bet you don't even know what it's like. cunt.
Quantumgirl I'd like your knickers soon
The fairies again told me to write this tune
You don't like London what is wrong with you?
Maybe it's cos you see it by the moon
London by day's a magnificent sight
Open your mouth, inhale and take a bite
The smog, aint it great? Not as bad in Delhi
Hell yeah my city is dirty and smelly
It's those smells and sounds that make her great
It's a delicate blend of sights and taste
The free and easy access to science and art
London my love, my life and my heart
Andy 2002
Horrific Attack on Britney Spears part 2
Now I know why Eminem’s so pissed
That Britney Spears is a talentless bitch
I could write her shit when I take a wizz
I’m doin it now and she’s in showbiz
”So other than that why’s she get your goat?”
Cos with that bitch it aint about songs but blowin your load
The kids all love her cos she looks like a slag
like a teenybop, underage, pop-idol wank mag
That Barbie-doll bitch don’t deserve a deal
she can’t fuckin sing and her tits aint real
ask to “do it again” and I just might pass
Britney Spears can kiss my arse
Andy 2002
Really this column is just an excuse to write the personals at this end which, thanks to all the wicked stories I been gettin from you bitches, has got to be one of the funniest ever. I've decided to do an extra long personals section today just to piss someone off as well. You know who you are.
So just to make it worthwhile as a column, I'll take a very British approach and start by talking about the weather for a bit to fool you into thinking I'm actually writing a column and not just slagging you off.
Yes I know how much you guys love it when I talk about the weather over here (and here was me slating someone for saying the same thing to everyone...) but how can I not talk about it when the Sun is out every day, the sand is bone dry and the beaches are this nice?! It's damn good weather, outside is perhaps hmm 27 or 28 degrees but with no cloud cover it's a hazard walking outside most days.
I mean even with my yellow-asbestos, sunburn-proof skin even I run the grave risk of getting a very good tan indeed. Hell I go out for about half an hour a day in a T-shirt and shorts then I have to go back indoors cos if I stay out too long I'll turn as brown as a poo.
...and on that note, now onto the menu of the day
Personals
Cez - How dare you choose Chile over America? Bitch! Anyone would think you fancy Rick more than me! What has he got that I haven't other than his long red beard and being your boyfriend? Sulk sulk sulk. You have every reason to be panaroid as well, not because of what I said, but because you're probably gonna realise just how much you fancy me when you finally do track down the gay porn pictures I took and posted on the web.
Lou - Cheers for the mail bitch always a pleasure to here from you and I'll make it extra special funny so your sister breaks her waters early. You and Trish know a thing or two about cults, got any tips where to find them? I doubt I've got enough time this time around though to be fair, but I'll pay em a flyin visit (ha! Flyin' visit! Cult! Geddit?!) when I'm passin through in my spaceship. Don't forget to check out the archives as well because I've been writing so much that this thingy has had to archive it, but if you get through the 20,000 odd (yes that's 20,000 odd as opposed to 20,000-odd) words then take a look at my mate Matt's blogspot on http://spinningchairs.blogspot.com and pay particular attention to the one about James Rough which is legendary writing in my humble opinion.
Matt -
You yourself are a flawed genius, much like the internationally renowned impotence commercial star, Pele Moola - I've decided to add value to your investment by NOT printing it up on this website today. Or ever. It's yours and just for you to keep. Use the force bro. Oh yeah I wouldn't have touched Rebecca with a twelve foot prong! That look though! I actually fell off my chair! Ants - I'm not gonna give you a personal this time just to piss you off. Slit - I will try and tape the kung fu ladies-only volleyball if it comes on again - it was SO fucking amazing that I don't think you can truly say you've lived until you have seen this. I don't think you realise quite what I mean when I say this. It was the single most amazing thing I've seen from watching TV ever. This is the reason the TV was invented. V - I'm afraid I don't believe that the wart-biter bush cricket exists because it is FAR too funny and anything with a funny name is doomed to extinction as has been proven time and again in history. Take for example the Dodo and the Euplocephallus and all the other phalluses that lived in the Triassic period and I think you will find that your department is actually playing a very cruel joke on you. Z - Isn't it about time you got out of B+B and started going to B+Bs in O to the Zee? You know what I mean, I'm not being mean, just don't want you wasting away on the banking scene. Yeah baby looks like we got the full A-Z here! Man I'm good... Andy 2002
You're skilled manipulation of the English language, is like the dextrous and silky passing down at the Valley
And like Alan Curbishley's Charlton Athletic Football Club from South London
The stuttering and posturing of your prose is always in abundance
But keep on writing because practice will in time lead to perfection
Never mind if you require pills to maintain an erection
You are a great humour writer but perhaps in search of direction
I look forward with baited breath to a compilation of your collection
Ants - Here's your fucking personal you cunt! You can kiss my arse you piece of shit! Is this what you wanted? Well you've got it you miserable waste of space. You're so ugly, face like my arsehole it's no wonder you're now self-employed! I wouldn't let you clean my toilets, as you'd only pull the handle off and lock yourself in! I know what you mean by self-employed anyway – it’s what I call myself too, cos I haven’t got a girlfriend either! What the fuck do you mean you're catering for loads of people!?! You have one guest round and fucking burn the one thing you're cooking you bloody imbecile! As for coming round your house when I get back you can shove your new speakers up your arse (or give them to me - you know you want to) cos it's you I'm really gonna come and see. And I'll probably kill you.
There that's made up for all the abuse you didn't receive before hasn't it?
I’ve become obsessed with Bill Gates. Anyone who knows me knows how long it takes me to read a book because I have an attention span like a strobe light – it turns off and on quickly and doesn’t last that long. I take books and read about 3 at a time but at a speed that takes as long as it takes most people to read 10 books. Twice. I’m too busy having fun to sit down and read ok! I guess that’s why I done so shit in uni, because I can’t be expected to sit and read one book all day. I would have done better if I took 3 degrees over 10 years at the same time I guess.
I’ve been reading Gates’ sorta-biography in which he predicts the future Nostradamus-style. I could only afford the 1996 edition though, so I’m actually reading about what’s already happened in the past but in the future tense, an experience similar to reading that paedophiles work, Arthur C. Clarke, who wrote the fantastic 2001 then went to Sri Lanka to abuse children. Allegedly. The guy was a physicist and a great writer but not all physicists have ALL his attributes although I’ll confess to having 2 of his talents. No officer it’s Bags you want to put the handcuffs on. I’m an innocent man.
Mister William H. Gates III is a comedian. He doesn’t intend to be a funny man, after all he is a techie and physically unable to aspire to these things (Yes this is a crack aimed at Big H, C++ and Moola) but is nonetheless very amusing in his own way. In the same way that Mr Clarke brings shame to all physicists, Mr Gates should have you boys hanging your heads in shame. Okay then maybe it’s not exactly the same way…
Billy grew up in Seattle, where he met Paul Allen, with whom he later co-founded Microsoft and he fondly recalls that the two had much in common:
”I was fortunate. I grew up in a family that encouraged children to ask questions. And I was lucky in my early teens to become friends with Paul Allen. Soon after I’d met Paul, we had a conversation about gasoline. I’d been curious about it, and I wanted to know exactly how it was that gasoline could power a car. I’d found a book on the subject, but it was confusing. Gasoline was one of the subjects Paul understood, and he explained it to me in a way that made it interesting and understandable. You could say that my curiosity about gasoline fuelled our friendship.”
I don’t know about you but I’m rolling around clutching my sides! I may be a master of most forms of comedy, but this guy is the undisputed king of geekstick humour. The way he built it up making it sound innocently like a story of his life, you never even saw the killer line on the horizon until he had dropped it. He doesn’t emphasise the punchline either with an exclamation mark, which a lesser man would, he just drops it casually and nonchalantly as if the delivery of the killer blow was as natural to him as programming in byte code. This man is an absolute comedy genius a fact that should have brought him fame long before whatever it was that finally did. Erm Windows or something wasn’t it?
If you still need convincing of this mans humoural integrity, and intrinsic and natural flair for geekstick humour, turn to page 12 in which he describes the time he found himself in a classroom full of girls where he was the only guy:
”It was hard to tear myself away from the machine”
Need I say more? I think I will anyway! Having delivered this sucker punch, Gates has you in his sights and when you turn over to page 14 he takes off the gloves and knocks you clean out with the following:
”We [Paul and he of course] did figure out a way to use the little chip to power a machine that could analyse information counted by traffic monitors on city streets. Many municipalities measured traffic flow by stringing a rubber hose over a selected street. When a car crossed the hose, it punched a paper tape inside a metal box at the end of the hose. We saw that we could use the 8008 to process these tapes, to print out statistics and graphs. We called our first company “Traf-O-Data”. We thought the name was sheer poetry.”
Ha!!!!! If I hadn’t warned you would you have seen that comin’?! I think not! Again, his control of the reader is impeccable, pretending to struggle to hold their attention with seemingly mundane writing whilst actually building up to a dambusting climax is awesome.
But it seems that all geniuses are flawed (except me of course) as we have seen with the writer of 2001 whose flaw was that he was a physicist.
Gates’ genius will perhaps never be appreciated because of his major flaws i.e. he is a megalomaniac and a programmer, but for the briefest of moments I implore you to step back and take Mr Gates into your heart and see that beneath the Microsoft empire lies the greatest comedian the world has ever known.
So get on your knees bitches and pray for my ass
I don’t wanna lose it, it was built to last
It’s only this >.< big but it’s pretty cute
And without it how the hell am I gonna poo?
Cheers in advance and this one’s for you
Song of the day number 2
Kid from the other side
I’m the one kid you know from the other side of the tracks
I should be looking forward but I keep looking back
I’m running away but I’m still holding on
And one of these days I’m gonna be gone
Now I’m not on this side and I’m not on yours
Your riches seem to me like distant shores
If I’m on neither platform I must be on the tracks
And when the train comes along I’m gonna go *Splat*
But death to me is real and to you is fake
Up in your tower watchin Ricki Lake
No-one Ever Really Dies, you believe it’s true
But one day, Mr Death’s gonna jump on you
Andy 2002
The Masked Avenger - Guided Missile part 2
Hey mister Warwick-boy it’s me again
Mister Andy Hoang and my poison pen
Like your mummy in the morning I’m your wake up call
Aint it bout time you stopped going to school?
First lecture of the day is in PLT
Ah fuck it no, it’s now in your room on your PC
It’s course A77 on Integrity
And the PhD, professor is Me
Now listen up, and listen good
You in the back take off your hood
Take that wank mag out of your book
Like Yoda says, Take notes you should
You got a lot to learn, I got time to burn
I could teach all day til the sun goes down
I SAID OUT THE BOOK MR HARRISON!
I’ma keep on teaching when you shoot your sperm
Feel better now? Then lets begin
I’m tryin to save your ass from a life of sin
I want to get you out fore you lock yourself in
So shut the fuck up and start listenin
You know I’m the King and you’re listenin to me
“So what the hell is this ‘Integrity?’
Will it bring me prosperity?
A place in the sun, lots of girls and weed?
Is it gonna pay for all my seeds?
Does it matter Sir if I can hardly read?
Do you take payment in cash or deeds?”
You can hardly read? There’s a Warwick First
They don’t care if you’re the best if you’re not the worst
If you got the cash then we got the bills
Never mind about those little things called skillz
If you’re middle class then just flash the cash
And get the fuck away if you are trailer trash
But that’s it you see, that’s Integrity
It’s acceptin me for just being me
There’s more to a man than you can see
There’s more to life than what you read
Money and riches aint all you need
Dem girls, dat dope and all dat weed
The place in the sun of which you speak
Don’t look like your holiday home in Crete
“What you talking bout man? Aint that all there is?
Fast cars, fast girls and all dat wiz
I’ve got it all and if I aint then I’ll get it
Courtesy of daddy’s little platinum credit”
There are greater riches “Bullshit there isn’t”
but you’ll never see em til you’re truly wizened
I wear these clothes get the bus to school
But through your closed eyes you can’t see that I’m richer than you
”Hmmm maybe there’s somethin, I’ma listen up
Stop playin round with all my balls and stuff
My right hand is sore but I can write with my left
Maybe there is still a chance of life before death”
Take off your mask and just be yourself
The respect of your Friends is worth more than your wealth
The ability to turn your eyes up to the sky
Will give you life even after you die
The balls in your court now, not just in your hand
It’s time to let go, time to be a man
Time to embrace the Truth, be one with the Land
See me after the class if you don’t understand
Andy 2002
Man. People talk about some mundane shit. For fucks sake, don't you get bored talking about the same subject like "How they pronounce the word, 'basket' in Leeds" all the fucking time? You know who you are and virtually everyone reading this knows who you are because the experience of this topic has been replicated with them too, although the word may have been changed to advantage, arsehole or garage. Nobody cares.
Not only have we had the same conversation 3 times (I was bored midway through the first time but was a little too polite to say - maybe if I did I wouldn't have had to suffer it again. Twice.), but you've had the same conversation with EVERYONE! The life of an accountant is embodied in you my boy.
When I choose my friends I have to choose carefully. Growing up with no money on a council estate makes you realise that you just can't afford to waste any investment, be it in time, money or energy and it makes you love what you have and disregard what you don't. I'm still poor, I'm still fighting and I believe I've made some wonderful choices and invested time wisely but you still make me wonder. My investment is normally rewarded with great returns but with you something is missing.
I keep an open mind, and my friends come from all walks of life, all backgrounds and classes as life can only be experienced in full colour if you don't look through a filter. Those I call friends I am Down For Life with, and I have high demands in return, but I'm not really hard to repay for my investment.
However, this is a concept that seems to be lost as personal wealth increases and depending on your standing in society. Some people, like Slit can keep it real, but it seems that in general, the richer you are the more important it becomes to hold on to your money over your friends and you become unable to forge the depths of friendship attained by the less well off. It becomes more difficult for you to comprehend the bond between 2 people, whose investment of time together on a more than superficial level has given them a seemingly psychic bond, because you are blinded by your desire for material accumulation and the investment of wealth.
You find it difficult to trust and I find it difficult to trust you because I can feel what you think.
Yes I am poor and I know you didn't ever expect to have a poor friend. Although you accept me now, it's because I am superbly adaptable and can fit seamlessly into your world but you could never hope to understand mine. Your regular friends own boats and their daddy's have houses in the south of France but, despite being so rich, you all keep tabs on who bought the last round. Tarik you owe me nothing, you never owe me anything. Put your wallet away, I'm not interested. Next round is mine.
Your mind is not able to take in that there is a whole world outside your box, a world of poverty and suffering. And that, by your sheer complacency, the fact that you walk around with your eyes closed, and by your every action you are actually part of the problem.
I have tried to stick up for you in the past because I defend my friends but everything they say is true. I've fought your corner because I've seen you grow up before my eyes and you've never been strong enough to fight that corner yourself. But you still have a lot of growing up to do.
Maturity is not about leading the rich race or fulfilling ambitions. Those things come through hard work and perseverance anyway and even the immature can do these things. It's not about the step into paying the bills yourself (which you haven't yet graduated to anyway) although that is a little closer.
Maturity is when you realise that you have responsibilities and move to take action to fulfil your duty, not just to yourself but also to others. You do not exist in this world alone and denial of the existence of the rest of the world and your responsibilities won't make them go away.
One strange thing about life is that the more you take the less you have but the more you give the more you get. You will not understand this at the moment though - you are too immature. You will always be immature until the day that you understand this and when you learn to let go. Then the world will be yours.
If you're reading this, ring me when I get back on 29th December because I want to see you. I stand by you because you're a good boy at heart, although not many people see it. One day you'll be a Man. Please don't keep letting your wealth close doors instead of opening them.
Hey mister Warwick-boy listen to me
There's a world beyond the bubble that you can't see
That world outside gave birth to me
Twice the man you'll ever be
Hell yeah you're rich, you were born rich, die rich
Silver spoon, boxing gloves, looks like you're ready to die bitch
You won't last a minute in the ring with my bitch
When Real Life hits you run to mummy and cry bitch
You got this far with an open chequebook
Fast cars, fast girls was the route that you took
Open your eyes to the pain take a hard look
and you'll see that I am the King and that you are a rook
Your queen will be mine, checkmate you lose
you might strut around in your Armani shoes
you spend daddy's money on the fags and booze
you go on thinkin' you can have what you choose
Integrity, is what you can't buy
Honesty, cos you need to lie
Friendship, and a place to cry
The Peoples love, until you die
These things are mine, I don't need to try
I don't need to pretend I'm anyone but I
I can walk through the streets with my head held high
The open window of my soul is through my eye
Andy 2002
I'm nothin special. But I know that when I get back it's me that everyone will pump for stories down the pub, my stories that will light up the night and I'll be the life and soul of the party.
By the time I come back, I doubt I will have done much vastly of note, hell certainly nothin as funny as the Cow story or as exciting as the one about the Guy With the 2 Snakes because this is America and, despite how wacky and outlandish middle class England thinks this place is, it's got nothin on me. I've seen more eccentric shit in my mum's kitchen than you'll ever see here including the small bananas, which I used to show everyone who came round.
America's eccentricity doesn't even come close
Everyone down the boozer will nevertheless still want to listen to me, other peoples stories will have to wait in line and the whole night I will have you wrapped around my finger. And d'you wanna know why?
It's got nothing to do with the windows of opportunity I open for myself or the places I go or the life that I lead, because you could all easily recreate the same thing and the baton would still be mine to run with. It's down to only one thing...it's the way I tell 'em.
Take this for example. I'm sittin in Pho 79 writin my diary notes in one of those pads like wot I wrote your book in Suze/Vix, sittin opposite a small gang of beautiful Vietnamese girls drinking milkshakes and looking at me. I'm apparently very handsome in Vietnamese eyes but I won't let that go to my head. Much.
The place is loud and full of wonderfully colourful characters wherever I look. There's a white guy in here too, huddled quietly in the corner, but using chopsticks so he's obviously a Vietfan, a term I have only just now made up to describe people like Suzie, who go to Vietnam and never really leave. The ones who use forks are just day-trippers.
The chopsticks are pretty damn funny while I'm on the subject - The instructions on the outside of the packet are classic and I will print them here in all their full unedited glory for your amusement:
I'm getting used to seeing white people again. Perhaps it is part of my slow rehabilitation into society and an extension of the re-education program (bad political gag) I guess.
Of course, I guess you could say that I am now batting for the other side as well now (as opposed to batting for no sides as Slit once said. Cracker! I'll show you one day son!) in that, where you guys think that us chinks all look the same, I'm actually starting to see the complete opposite. No seriously, how the hell do you guys know which one is related to you? How do you pick out criminals in an identity parade? Does your girlfriend know you're shaggin her sister!?! Do you!!!!?!!!! Hey at least it's one happy sister.
As I walked home through the blazing Californian heat, I saw my first cockroach ever and I thought it was a little ironic given my travel history that the first cockroach should be in America, when I've lived in Ghana, India, Nepal and Thamesmead. It unnaturally hot outside for November and the bugger had croaked and was laying on it's back. Which was probably for the best.
D'you see what I mean now - I can even make a trip down the shops sound exciting. And so can you, if you just let yourself go. We live in a free society where freedom of expression is mostly unmetered, but it's not society that places constraints on our free expression but ourselves. The concept of rebelling against our society as such to gain freedom of expression is thus aiming at the wrong target, as we in the developed world are already free to do what we please. Who's gonna stop you? Shouting and waving placards at people who choose to be dull with their freedom does nothing to further our own personal liberation (although I must admit that I do enjoy waving my butt in their faces just for fun and of course they should be made aware of the damage that they are actively or passively inflicting on the poor and the environment by their actions) although I too feel the need to save the yawncorp employees from their self-imposed life of death. However, it is the route they have chosen and we should live and let live, because after all if they have nothing interesting to say then filing them away with all the rest to be forgotten in an office on the 7th floor of yawncorp HQ will be no big loss, and we can carry on living the life of the free while they suffer for their lack of self-expressive talent.
The pursuit of creative freedom should not be confused with the need to want to have your voice heard. True artistic freedom begins from within by liberating the self and the need for someone else’s approval, in fact every other need should be secondary to desire to cultivate your own art. If you enjoy singing, sing. But this does not mean be selfish. The Oak tree in the forest grows regardless of the other trees around him concentrating on his own self-development, but is selfless at the same time, playing host to the animals and the forest whilst growing magnificent. And when he dies he gives everything back to forest, to the earth from which he came, holding onto nothing. That is why he embodies the Tao.
Having your voice heard is a different subject altogether and results not from self-imposed marginalisation from society but from a synergetic interaction in which you find your niche, the place where people speak your language. Withdrawal from society because no-one is listening is like cutting off your dick to spite your girlfriend.
Many people spend their time and money in search of further wealth and riches and I have next to nothing. But I've got something far more valuable - a sense of humour. So ask yourself, down the pub, who would you rather spend your time on and it becomes clear who really holds the riches.
Andy - The poor boy who will have you in stitches
I take particular pride in the fact that, no matter how rude and obnoxious I am, people still introduce me to their mum.
And I love 'em!
And they love me back and I just don't get it. Hell, there are probably mums out there right now reading this because they are worried about me, thinking I'm gonna go and chop off my remaining limbs and breathing a sigh of relief when I say it's okay because I've got travel insurance. Favorite mums, in no particular order are, Charmaine, Kenny, Sluttys mum, Xroads' mum, Slits mum, Bags' mum, Rich Urbanowicz's mum, Jay's mum, Geris mum, Trish, Martin Truongs mum, Uy's Sinead's mum from back in the day, Blues' dad (I can't remember your mum), Jacks Kennys mum from my primary school and Stuart Dixon's mum.
Of the mums I've ever met I'd marry most of them and apart from Jon's mum, who was a bitch, they're all really lovely people. By the way Jay have still got that song kickin around that I wrote about her? Mail it and I'll finish it up and post it right here. Man I could have kicked her ass!
So Ladies (and Gentleman) this one and the next piece, entitled "Inverted Racial Experience part 2" is for you.
Personals
Charmaine - Thank you so much for taking me out to Bluewater the day before I took off to buy Tiles and donuts. You are actually one of my oldest friends (in terms of time not age I hasten to add) and I thank you again for taking me in from the cold all those years ago and feeding me. I look forward to seeing you and your 2 lovely daughters (and the sprog?) for ham dipped in hot chocolate as usual on my return. I have been thinking long and hard about our book idea too and believe that it will be a bestseller. Call me when you leave work, if you know what I mean and we'll get writin.
Stuart Dixon's mum - It's been such a long time no see. I hear the boy's graduated now. You must be so proud. I will come over soon to see you all I promise. I guess David is huge now. Tell Stu I apologise again for throwing that brick at him, but he did chase me with a baseball bat so I think it's a fair cop.
Slutty's mum - Thank you for a most excellent cup of tea. I see now where your daughter gets her talent from (not to mention her good looks)
Slit's mum - cheers for letting me kip on your floor despite ruinin your son's birthday by wearin trainers then putting up with me for an extra day. I never did get round to buyin him anything either. And cheers too to Bill for the lift back to London, I really had fun and learnt a lot from our little chat about standards and procedure checking in third world countries.
Jenny - Thanks for the in-car entertainment that you 3 girls provided when I came round. Hell, there was no need for heatin in that car! Thanks a bundle too for dinner and the pint in the pub in the woods, which I must admit I wouldn't possibly have been able to afford myself at the time. It was one of the nicest chillout sessions I've had this year and next time I come round I'll bring some bread and go out and feed the ducks at the pond like you used to. I must admit to feeling strangely at home in your house too, I think you've done a great job makin it feel comfortable so quickly. Did you get the curtains you wanted?
X-roads' mum - Habloodyha! You are such a laugh I now know why Slit goes out with your daughter! Cheers for all the Coke, I had a top craic round your place, which was an unexpected surprise. I didn't want to leave and I promise I'll stay a bit longer next time. Slit was a bit keen to get away don't you think? Are you sure a boy like this is suitable for your daughter? Trade him in for me anytime!
Bag's mum - Tell him to get a real job and to stop bein such a cunt
Now, aside from the obvious routes of mail-order brides and Amsterdam, I have never before entertained the idea of ever even touching a girl, never deluding myself that the day would ever come when one would let me come close enough.
But the strange thing about being away from home is that, in many ways it's like one of those out-of-body experiences you see in cartoons where the body is laying in the coffin and the spirit is floating away looking back and contemplating his life thus far.
And I've definitely been contemplating mine.
With this outside view of myself, I've realised that, in truth, I'm not that bad. I've already pointed out all my good points before and, reading over them, I challenge anyone to dispute any of them. I am as good as I say I am and I'm only just now beginning to realise that.
All those things which at home I thought were faults, are actually just the quirks that make me who I am.
And who I am is a lonely single guy, who has let his perception of himself become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I guess by now you've all seen "Attack of the Clones". Crap wasn't it? Well, step right up and face the music guys because this is your life. And I am Yoda.
To all you clones working for Major multinational corporations around the world, I'd just like to say, "Wakey wakey - it's time to actually do some work for the money that you are taking from poor people". In fact I feel a little sorry for you all, as I know how "stressful" your jobs can be you Prozac(tm)-popping motherfuckers so I've written you a little song to cheer you up. You may like to sing it out loud in the office.
The rest of this column is dedicated to y'all...
Yawncorp Employees! Look Around you what do you see?
"Rows of bored people who look just like me
rows of people sitting there wastin away
nine to fuckin five same as every day
Just like me they want to break away
mortgage by the balls so they gotta stay
they're safe now in their cell safely locked away
everybody here got bills to pay
deals to make, hands to shake, hearts to break, pills to take, can't be late..."
"But it aint Easy" I hear you say
Bullshit motherfucka, you here to stay
Too fraid to play, too scared to slay
you wanna live to fight for another day
While you waste away bitch, you better pray
that you're gonna start livin fore you pass away
Cos before you know, you'll be dead and gone
you take nothin way bitch, cept what you got on
A longer life aint a better life
if you live by the knife then you die by the knife
Sure you'll sleep when you're dead
but when you sleep you're snoring
bit like readin reports that are fuckin borin
So you better quit complainin Bitch and start pursuin
quit remainin in that shit you're doin
Time to move on, time to make a stand
Time to rip it up, time to be a Man
Time to run away to a foreign land
smoke trees, fuck girls in the sun and sand
Drop all this shit, fuckin start a band
top up your tan, cross the world in a van
fuck that, sell dope as an ice cream man
end up in jail with the Ku Klux Klan
or just file reports for the big grey man
take home your pay, honest citizen
to just waste away
forgotten
Andy - 2002
…Yoda says, Kiss my arse, you can
I been reading through some of your past e-mails again on my brand spankin new computer today and with unlimited time on my hands I have been able to pick up on some minutiae information that escaped me the first time.
First of all, I read Thoulds first e-mail to me again and realise that, although he's got a secretary who sucks his cock on demand etc, that is just the start of it. I somehow overlooked the fact that his new flat has a double bed, which I suspect the company paid for to make sure the boss is comfortable while he begs for promotion, and rather than taking notes he uses his dictaphone. God only knows why he doesn't use a normal phone like everyone else but needless to say, his secretary is on the receiving end of it every time.
Why exactly though do I keep going on about Thouldsters secretary though, you may be thinking. Other than the fact I find it hilarious to imply that he is perhaps getting laid, I find it kinda comforting to think that he is now on the road to the comfortable life that so many Warwick students aspire to. I know that Lee is not as bad as all that though, because it was actually a job that he took out of interest and not out of the pursuit of a mundane end and I respect him for having held out for so long for the right job to come along.
But as this is my column, this also boils down to me and it's relevance to my life. In a way I guess looking at the Thoulds achievement, against the odds (he's thick and ugly) he has put himself on the road to fulfilling his ambition, and is on the way to actually achieving something that, in his mind at least, is worth achieving. And all credit to him for choosing his path and sticking to it. But what the hell am I gonna do?
Slit's doing the same thing. He's developing himself to the best of his abilities in a field I actually quite dig, Environmental Science and again against the odds (he has a small cock) he's probably gonna come away with the goods and set himself on the path to lifelong sewage treatment. Which is what he wants to do by the way.
I am not competing with anyone as I have already made clear, because that is not the Taoist way but of course I can't help but notice that perhaps in the course of having a fecking good time I will perhaps have to work out a way to get someone to give me some money soon. Like wot the Thould has done.
Of course Sarjmeister Baboon has pointed out the fact that I am not the only one worried about the future and that now that we are out of that west midlands hell we're all a little concerned at where we're headed. It just sometimes feels like I'm the only one not gettin paid for it that's all.
Still, I know I take a risk by standing up for what I believe in, but hold to the belief that the only way to happiness is through being the best Me that I can. Somehow I am sure that that's enough and when all is said and done, at least I can stand up and be counted, for richer or poorer I did what I thought was right and never buckled under the inevitable pressures that we are all put under. Anyone can work for a corporation and be nobody all their life and hell I've been there and done it myself enough times before but the compromises that have to be made to conform to the framework and stay inside the box will eventually make clones of us all. And in the land of the blind the king is the little handsome yellow guy who runs around waving his arms and sticking his hairy yellow butt in your face.
The threat of global homogenisation became starkly clear this morning for example...
Hmmm as a little humorous aside amidst all this semi-serious dialogue, I'd just like to mention that on Vietnamese TV right now there is a guy eating a dog.
...when I went to Wal-Mart, which I mentioned earlier selling George clothes. And guns. You may recall Asdas recent Rollback campaign with the little smiley face that bounced right into that silly woman's arsehole. No wonder she had to scratch. It's too late now love you can't waft it away - everyone knows it was you! Yeah well, they've got the Rollback campaign over here too and it just made me think, firstly "If I wanted to buy your crap at yesterdays prices, I'd shoplift it like I did yesterday" then "If I wanted to see this I would have stayed at home where I know how to avoid it already". But that's the thing. If more countries and their people continue to become too complacent to innovate and cultivate original ideas and this constant drive towards franchising and globalisation continues, there will be no places left in the whole world where we can escape the box we have created for ourselves. Every place will become the same, every persons experience will thus be pretty damn similar and life will become a whole lot less interestin.
Bear that in mind as you chew on the pencil that capitalism made and drink your Starbucks coffee in the office of your faceless multinational corporation in your grey suit. And remember, you only have yourselves to blame.
Only a fool looks for the pot of gold when they already have a Rainbow - Andy 2002
This piece was originally scheduled to be called "Turning Vietnamese, you know I'm turning Vietnamese I really think so" but today I am on a bit of an ego trip, so instead of telling you anything much about what happened, I will talk exclusively about how good I am until i am blue in the face then, if I ever get over myself, I might tell you about the final stage in my remarkable metamorphosis from a pseudo-British caterpillar to a beautiful Vietnamese butterfly. I wouldn't hold my breath.
Really though I don't know how I do it. How the hell do I consistently get away with this sort of behaviour day after day and how the hell have I got any friends left. Every day I run the same gags and not only does anyone not notice but I still have them rollin in the aisles. Alright that's not entirely true but they are pretty similar anyway, the similarity between them being that they are all excrutiatingly funny but that's where the similarity ends.
I am, without a doubt, consistently the funniest person in the world, inventive, witty and spontaneous and just about the nicest bloke you'll ever meet to boot. On top of that I have skin as smooth as one of those laminated identification card thingys, am stunningly good looking, have a great body and everyone loves me. Hell I can get away with virtually anything, I can say anything I like, do anything I like and slate anyone I like and my charm and that cheeky glint in my eye will always see me through. Hell, if you didn't love me that much why the hell are you even reading this self-righteous, pompous, and quite frankly sickeningly self-promoting rubbish!?!
Damn it's good being me!
Phew glad I got that out of my system. Now I can press the inferiority complex button and get back to business.
It's been a realy good day in Orange County, by Orange county standards and for that matter even by my own foreign standards. Although I actually found out the ASCII for £ (Alt+0163 in case anyone cares) this wasn't a day spent being bored in the house all day even though the evidence coupled with 2 posts today seem to suggest it was. They also suggest I am a spud and you all know that is not the case so never take evidence on face value.
For a start I remembered that the diary I am using to write down all this journeys adventures is also the diary I used for last years adventures in Nepal and India. I've been having a right chuckle and it's given me a great backup source for funnies if I run out. Just flicking through it now I have just glimpsed the word "...testicles" which I can't remember writing down and that has got to be a good yarn!
I'm currently watching a HUGE tai chi demonstration, in a football stadium in Vietnam, where a load of Artists in white have filled the pitch and are performing to oriental music. Finally they have found another use worthy of a football stadium. Putting Oasis in one is such a waste.
Was working til 3am this morning on one of my projects and got up really early, which as you know is the way I like living - sleep deprivation is the way of the future, but I've been so snowed under with work at the moment that it's just like being in London which is my idea of a holiday. I function best on about 6 hours sleep and less gets the adrenaline pumping most the time. Hyperactivity is the most wonderful medical condition and although it hasn't ever been proven I think we can safely say that I have it. Sleeping and watching TV is like throwing your whole life away!
Sorted out a travel insurance claim this morning (CHILL EVERYONE - I've still got my arms) which was actually a lot of fun it's gotta be said. I know I'm becomin a little domesticated but it really was quite a lot of fun. No really. I'm doing nothing for you with this one am I? (Move on Andy, you're gonna lose em. Ed)
We went shopping for computers this morning. I went shoppin for teles the other day (not for me obviously) in a shop called something like "Rons VERY Big TVs" which sold a range of TVs whose sizes ranged from Medium, Large, Extra Large, and My Ego to Shona. Pass me the blender Jay! VROOOOOOM!
Jay is taking a stand against the creeping corporate infrastructure that's permeating our society and taking over our lives by standing up and being counted. Like everyone else in the dole queue, Jay COULD have had a job in the same way that everyone at Warwick COULD have gone to Oxbridge. As a result Jay has taken up the mystical art of kung fu preaching, in an attempt to realign the Yin and the Yang of the universe so that some bugger gives him some money. Please take pity on him and send all donations to his house by carrier pigeon. Mastercard and Visa accepted.
In case you're wondering what exactly the art of kung fu preaching is, it's an in-joke.
When I first got to America I could barely order Pho in Vietnamese. I hung my head in shame when they told me the price in English every time I tried to speak Vietnamese. Things have changed though in the short month I've been here and I'm now speaking farely well actually. In fact I bought a computer in Vietnamese today, a 1700Mhz beastie which will probably take on the nickname Sex-in-the-Box because it's such a sexy piece of machine in it's blue metallic case. However given that it's Ongs (my Grandads) new machine and he'll be the only one using it when I'm gone, I sincerely doubt that.
One place though, that I didn't try out my Vietnamese was at the phone shop where I went to check out the deal with pay-as-you go sims this morning. As a result, the "I love your accent" counter registered yet another hit. I love the way that Americans always say it the same way..."Oh by the way, I love your accent" in a flippant, throwaway manner which is an attempt to conceal the fact that they have been dying to say it through the course of the entire conversation but have only plucked up the courage to do so as you headed out of the shop. I'm still trying to work out the ultimate comeback but have currently settled on "Yeah so do I" which is not particularly funny and not even close to the arrogance I'm trying to achieve. Any suggestions to the usual address please.
Next we went to buy some film for my new camera so I can have some fun. We went to a big Vietnamese electric shop, a bit like the Vietnamese Comet or Dixons except for the fact that it was stacked to the ceiling with Made in Chinas. The answer to the question, "What is your major malfunction?" in here would have taken a long time to list with the amount of purely faulty goods in this place. Almost makes Dixons look like a professional operation.
Since moving into Ongs mobile home in Orange County, I have been particularly fascinated by his dysfunctional clock, a tacky Made in China analogue wall clock. My grandparents, like my mother, have a thing about buying complete crap and a lot of it is actually really amusing. Mum, for example, had this (Ba's still got it actually I think) Digital bedside clock that caught her fancy by mail order. It was a talking clock and she thought, despite it's hideous styling, that it would be useful for telling the time in the middle of the night. So she sent off £20 in the post and looked forward to it arriving. Thing is that she doesn't actually speak German and there was no way to change it's language to Vietnamese, English, French or Chinese. On further reflection actually, my aunt Mi, who is german came over and can't understand it either. A true bargain.
The clock on Ongs wall, in dark mahogany wood with one of those pendulums on it sharply contrasts with the pine walls of the rest of the home. Every hour on the hour, it plays a really horrendous digital rendition of a classic tune at random from it's data banks (sounds strangely like a night at Top Banana now that I think of it) then follows with a number of chimes reflecting the hour that's just befallen us. Thing is, that the hour is always about 3 hours out, despite the clock face actually showing the right time. So for example when 3pm comes round it will play something that vaguely resembles Beethovens 9th before chiming 6 times. From this you have to do a bit of simple maths and you're there so it's not all bad.
I have wondered since getting here where the hell exactly you go to buy such a monstrous device and as we looked through the rows of cheap chinese imitation Kodak film I found out. It was 14:05 on my watch (I always keep my watch 5 minutes fast) and one of the garish tunes I have come to know and love sounded out through the store. Then the chime followed. Once, Twice, Three Times, Four Times, Five Times, Six Times, Seven Times. I burst out laughing.
Rest of the day has been spent writing and working on things. When I got here I couldn't even order Pho in Vietnamese and today I bought a computer. I've finally made it. My name is Andrew Hoang and I am Vietnamese.
I won't live like the rest. Because I am the best.
It's been quite a while since I cracked any gags about Shona and I feel that the world is a poorer place because of it. So todays piece is going to be about fast food. Maybe.
As you all know, nothing ever happens around here, so I'm gonna delve into my personal diary for todays funnies. Never let it be said that I don't give you anything bitches.
19 October 2002
Fresno was/is a strange place judging by the tiny snippet I saw tonight. Apparently according to our tour guide, a sprightly chinese guy, bit of a bilingual comedian, Fresno is the 6th largest town in California with a population of 330,000 I think. Mainly farmers he says.
We pulled into this chinese restaurant, Fu Han I think it was called, for dinner. It seems this place was designed for big tour groups [like ours] on the way to Yosemite and the food was dire. In fact it's safe to say it's the second worst place I've eaten since Mr Chans in the Plaza in Downtown Vegas, which in turn was without a doubt the worst place I have ever eaten in the world. No shit.
All the Viet places have been great but the chinese in this country leave much to be desired.
The funniest thing [about Fresno] was probably the fact that, within spitting distance of our coach park chinese shit joint, there were [at least] 3 tattoo parlours [and an army surplus shop and not a lot else]. And a guy with a telescope sitting in a shop doorway looking at the moon. Naturally I asked to have a go and the moon looks fine tonight I'm pleased to say.
The food at the Chinese was so desperately unsatisfactory I decided to amuse myself instead at Weinersneitzels across the road.
Weinersneitzel [is] Americas Most Wanted Hot Dog [according] to the tagline and judging by the standard of hygiene on display I'm not bloody surprised - God knows how many people they've killed!
I opted for the Corn Dog, a delicacy I haven't tasted since they stopped doing them at Thamesmere Swimming Pool when I was 10. To jog your memory a corn dog is a sausage in corn on a stick deep fried to a crisp. I have memories of them being really nice.
However this one tasted uncannily like a piece of toast dippped in vegetable oil and put in the microwave. I can feel a coronary coming on.
Earlier in the day (we left at 6:30am) we went to Solvang, "The Dutch Capital of the USA" a nice [and] tacky tourist town so full of tat I decided to take the whole vat of salt. [all right this place had fake windmills and nothing but gift shops. It was like walking into Hell. On the other hand my memories of Holland, which are limited through consumption, was nothing like this at all. It had far more monkeys...]
The outstanding highlight of that stop was without a doubt...the "As Seen on TV" shop where I finally found the enthusiasm my entire trip has been lacking [I was in Orange County up til then although Vegas was good]. This place was [a] Heaven [made] for me. I mean, I marvelled, I oohed and I aahed and I engaged in conversation with the owner who was a little bemused [anyone who has ever been shopping will know what I'm talking about]
There I saw such overpriced delights as a mini-briefcase just big enough to put business cards in (I would have LOVED to see the advert for that!), a bagel cutter, which was a piece of plastic with a hole in it for putting a bagel in (knife not supplied) and my favourite the electric fly swat.
Now the electric flyswat was a bit of a miracle device. By that I mean, it's a miracle it ever made it into the market - it looks like a disaster waiting to happen!
In short, the electric flyswat takes the effort out of swatting flys. How? I hear you ask. Well, by applying an electric current through the strings of the Electric Flyswat™ you just have to lightly brush the little critter to apply enough electric shock to kill it.
This thing is about half the size of a tennis racket and looks like Tomys "My First Wimbledon" kit [complete with lethal electric effect I may add]
And you still have to chase the fly around the room.
[God only knows what happens if the bugger lands on a babys face in a pram. Poor thing will end up lookin a bit like Bags. The baby won't come off too good either]
Dammit. Just my luck that the firemen are off the roads in the UK and I'm here. I mean with the competition out of the way I could surely have had my pick of any girl in the country. Oh well some you win some you lose.
Been a little held up gettin out of Southern California with some personal issues, but don't worry the cream should clear this mess up soon and they can sew the leg back on when I get home. Not really much to report here I'm afraid so this will be a bit of a ramble to while away the hours so that San Francisco seems a little closer. Oh and while I'm here I guess I might as well slag off my loyal readership a bit and make some crap jokes. Yeah that sounds about right.
Probably the only things of note today happened on the way to the hospital when I filled a car tank up with petrol. Yes, that was unfortunately the first event of note - I filled up a car tank with petrol for the first time. I'm no longer a car-tank-filling virgin. I had very little idea what to do and musta looked like a right fuckwit standing there with this gun thing in my hand, scratching my head and wondering where to put it. Now I know why they always pay people to do it in the movies.
You know it's a slow day when I have to report on something as crap as this don't you.
The second event of note was the van that passed by as i was performing aforementioned gun-totting, head-scratching. It wasn't an "event" as such really. It was just this van advertising "Bimbo" bread.
Yes Orange County really is THAT dull.
Seeing as my life is so terminally dull at present, I'm gonna instead turn this update on it's head and write what's happening in the lives of all the people around me that matter. It's gonna be like an extended "Personals" this issue. Cheers for mailing me all your wicked stuff, it's kept me going through the terminal boredom that is Southern California and you reaffirm my faith in you every time. If my life can't make me laugh, most of yours certainly can! Names have been changed to protect identity. Sometimes. You know who you are.
My overly-hormonal and sexually imaginative (he imagines he's gonna get laid one day but no-one is really holding their breath) cousin Santa Claus has finally sorted his planning out and I've got to say I'm proud of him. As you know Mr Clause, you are like a kid brother to me and I always want to see you doing well. The kid has proved that perhaps he could organise the proverbial shag in the proverbial brothel if such a need did arise. Which in his case it probably will.
He's travelling the wide world starting in early January which gives me a tiny window to take him for a drink/on the pull when I get back. I'm afraid that all of you other bitches will have to wait in line cos he gets first dibs, although to be fair I will be too poor to afford anything alcoholic and he will by then be so tight with funds as well that we pose no threat to the female species at all unless the firefighters decide to go on strike again.
Slutty has decided to give me grief for her new nickname which I'm afraid is now gonna have to stick just for the protestations. I mean what's wrong with Slutty? and yes of course you can call me Slits anytime and I'll still love ya baby!
Chuvs Baboon cracked me up recently with a couple of things. Firstly with the lines "i gotta run now- another lecture to go to. this is getting soooooo
intensive- have way too much work to do!" - not in itself a particularly humourous line but when you take into account that he's an actuary at a multinational yawn corporation, it cracks me up no end. Secondly he busted my guts by telling me that the postcard I sent him, addressed to "Sarjmeister Baboon, room 401 etc" actually got filed in the mailbox under B in his hall. And everyone now thinks he is a right cock! Strike one to the yellow guy. No I mean THIS yellow guy right here.
Oh yeah at this point Sarj, I wanna say thanks for the advice to refrain from throwing myself off buildings in pursuit of a good story. I'm completely gonna ignore it, but thanks all the same.
My bro Uy is a source of constant pride. He's working with mad people at the moment, which is not much different from visiting me, but he's gettin paid to do it which the rest of you fools don't.
Big H and Moola are probably seeing each other down the DSS every week or in the soup kitchen despite being among the most talented pair of individuals that read this piece. I have visions of Pinky and the Brain with Moola saying, "So Big H, what are we gonna do tomorrow?" - "Same thing as we do every day Moola. We're going to take over the world!!!!" Mwahahahahahaha!
Slit has been getting ino more trouble than me which is quite a feat, but not so much fun by the sounds of things. His spell of bad luck includes having his dick bitten off in a fight with an alligator, losing 4 fingers in a bar brawl with some mexicans in Nottingham students union bar, losing all his bodily hair in a drunken game of poker and setting fire to his two remaining testicles with a blowtorch while trying to weld it back on. He also had a bit of trouble with his car.The unsavoury image of Skivs naked body e-mailing me at 2am will probably set me on the road to eternal celibacy. Again.
The other employee of the same multinational yawncorp is now forced to work saturdays because the boss likes having a pretty face in the office. As a man who makes very little money (erm...shouldn't that be none at all? Ed) but has a helluva lot of fun doing so, I have very little sympathy (in fact I reserve my heartiest belly laugh) for those who make loads and complain that they think their job is shit. Wakey wakey! To be fair though, she's not hating her job but it's just a warning to anyone who comes running to me for sympathy in future. You've condemned yourself to the life of a battery chicken and you can kiss my arse.
A certain vet I know is considering wearing her pants on the outside and flying, a dream that I quite aspire to anyway. I might wear my pants on the ourside on the plane home. I will do if every reader of this page gives 10 pounds (where the fuck is the pound sign on these fucking american keyboards!?! Retards! Someone send me the ASCII code) to a cancer charity and sends me proof.
Quantumgirl walks through a graveyard on the way home from work every day and has a bath every week. Oh hang on that reads, "Goes to Bath every weekend". oh sorry.
Everyone knows that The Thould has his own secretary now. Apparently she wipes his arse for him as well now which is the first time he's had him bum cleaned since leaving home. He's workin as a patent lawyer which should come in handy when he realises that I copied all his answers when we were back in uni. Hey mate, I couldn't have got through it without you. Thanks.
c+ in Afrikaans boy has been learning to suck corporate cock the hard way. No I don't mean he's been learning yoga or breaking his own ribs but he actually asked for a pay rise the other day, in the vain hope that someone would recognise his talents. No doubt if he sucked long and hard enough they might have realised just how talented a boy he is, having lived with Fag Matt for 2 years. C++ just bend over and take it like a man! Hope you have got that lucrative contract bro and it didn't leave too salty a taste in your mouth.
He's in the Army now boy is in the army. Now. He's finally joined the ranks of people with guns to fulfill his lifelong ambition and again it makes me proud. I hope you come back with 2 legs or more this time cos last time it broke my heart. It's a fuckin relief that you've done it at last though bro. I knew you would and the next round is mine. That is round of drinks alright, not round as in bullet a distinction that I had better make clear before you pop a cap in my yello ass. phew that was a close one.
Will probably be outta here later this week or next week now as things have changed a little. The adventure could be put on hold because a project has come up that I want to work on while I'm here. You will all see the results one day but I can't tell anyone what it is just now. All I can say to quell some of your questions is "What are we gonna be doing over the next week rather than going to San Francisco again Brain?"...
There are two possible reasons why I have forgotten virtually everything about the first six months of this year and why the second part has been so memorable.
I think the combination of these two factors has just made the second half feel like the best year I've had since my year off. Well, it's an almost perfect year. I'm glad I didn't spent it with Warwick.
It has been said that the size of a mans car is inversely proportional to the size of his cock and this country has the biggest cars in the world. But then that's coming from a guy whose dream car is a mini. And I don't drive.
This weekend has been great. I hung out in LA with Chu Khangs family for most of it, taking a trip to Magic Mountain on Sunday courtesy of Di 7, with William and Vanessa.
Magic Mountain is alright. I mean it's a bit like Alton Towers with loads more rollercoasters but then it's just a theme park I guess and once you've bungee-jumped off a mountain in Nepal, theme parks are a bit easy, you know what I mean.
Still, the place had it's attractions. For a start, as soon as we pulled in (I had been asleep most of the way there), I got woken up by the sound of my cousin William and the line "Wonder what's going on out there? There's loads of cheerleaders around" - Now that's what i call a wakeup call! Naturally I jumped out of dreamydreamland - "Where?!?" - "Eurgh man. They're only 12 years old what are you, some sort of pedafile?!?!" - DOH!
Note to Bags part 1 - no mate I didn't get any pictures you slag.
Note to Bags part 2 - yes they do pronounce it pedafile over here. Almost like being back home innit bags?
This morning I found myself learning Chinese Chess from a rocket scientist in a doctors surgery as he played against a doctor. Suze you have a new sparring partner baby! I am gettin a little worried that I spend far too much time seeing the doctor when I travel, but chill bitches it's all good when I tell you the doctor was my Chu Khang. The Rocket scientist though - he's a mystery to me.
For some reason, Chu Khangs son, David gave me a nickname and I can't quite figure out why. As I said before in my group e-mail, I can't seem to shake the nickname Mad Andy, which everyone seems to come up with wherever I go ("I've got a great one - let's call you Mad Andy") Original it aint. Funny it aint. Use the force Luke.
The nickname David started using by about sunday night was...Andy X. Now as I say I am completely flummoxed as to where the inspiration for this came from. I am, however going to hazard a guess and say that my 16 year old cousin was probably referring to the great Malcolm X, a racist supremacist who believed that people of his skin colour were the superior race and should rule the world. Nothing like me at all then...
The weekend was topped off with an unexpected surprise. I met an aunt who is married to a white person. Yes, a white person. An American. As you are all aware, living in Little Saigon has somewhat warped my mind to the point that, well, I'm turning into a nazi yellow fuhrer and this was just unacceptable. I mean you would never catch me marrying anyone.
But the best/worst thing about this encounter, as much as I respect my aunt, was that this guy was a hick. I mean, he thought that Bush was the best president the country has had for a long time, he had never been abroad, he couldn't eat Vietnamese food (yes he must have been retarded), Clinton was a disgrace to the american people, Believed in the right to bear arms but couldn't give a structured argument as to why etc. In short, he was everything the British hate about Americans, the type of guy I had been meaning to meet for kicks all this time. And he had the biggest car I've ever seen. But I couldn't rip him up because he was part of the family and anyway he was mostly harmless. Sometimes even I hold my tongue.
I'm hittin the road soon Jack/Jackie. Outta the trailer park I'm heading to San Diego then up the way to San Francisco again - So good I done it twice! I just forgot to hang out in Golden Gate Park with the hippies and Drug addicts last time so I'm headed back for a second bite at the cherry.
From SFO - I'm gonna go to the home of Bruce Lee if I can find it. If anyone can surf and tell me where his Seattle home and grave are I would be most grateful as connecting to the internet here is slow and painful like shitting with piles.
Seattle is also the home of Grunge as you all know, Starbucks, Microsoft and Frasier as well I think. As usual I will be looking to find my way onto TV. I'm starting to get so desperate now to fulfil my prediction that I'd be on TV that I'm even starting to consider gay porn and Vietnamese commercials. Yes i have really run out of options.
Seattle to Vancouver should provide answers to the question everyone wants to know the answer to - Are the gun controls so strict in Canada that Bryan Adams has found somewhere to live? Yes all this and more will be revealed in the next thrilling episode (well probably the one after next or later. Or not at all cos I'll probably forget) of Mischief USA.
Adios bitches!
Personals
Matt - Dammit! I'm gonna miss the Donkey Show in Tijuana. I may spend a coupla days in San Diego before I set off because I want my stomach to turn like a dishwasher.
Peter - You are one sick puppy lil bro. Dave and Michael have told me. I will go nowhere near the downstairs toilet.
Suze - Ha! Slavery! Ha!
Slit - We must meet up sometime ok? I'll call you. You want me to bring a gun back so you can shoot some of those motherfuckers?
Tal - Your mailbox is full bro - I need to send you something. Your second one doesn't work.
Sarjmeister Baboon - Ha! Chuv will tell you I laughed til my my socks set on fire when I heard where they filed your postcard! I can even cause mischief 8000 miles away! Thanks and don't work too hard. Have you met Suzie yet? She's in on saturdays you know.
Suze - Ha! Saturdays! Ha!
Cez - Hope you washed your hands before reading that paper. And yes the six-pack is coming along nicely thanks. I'll let you use YOUR imagination next time. Just don't forget to wash the remote control.
It's raining in California. Rain. That familiar old friend I haven't seen for more than a month. When the first drop hit me, outside Sam Ash music store on Beach Bvd (A place with floor to ceiling guitars a la Waynes World) I thought a bird had shat on my head. I looked up in the Orange County sky to no avail (No intelligent life lives in this area of the country) then just stared at the droplets streaming through the smog like a gormless idiot for a while before remembering that the stuff is actually wet and that I was about an hour from my house.
I'm a simple guy really as you all know. A good day to me is by definition a day where I laugh out loud and a bad day is one where nothing even raises a smile. Today was threatening to fall into the bad day category but for the my imagination, when my Uncle Can came along and threatened to set me up with one of his friends daughters because "she's about your age and has finished her studies already - maybe you can get married and move here" Well it made me laugh anyway.
Being this bored I've decided to start planning my future. It's been a little daunting looking around at what everyone else is doing. I mean Lee mate, you've got a bloody secretary! Suzie's mentioned the word pension, which to me says (to quote Belle and Sebastian) "My wandering days are over", and even Skiv has been getting himself into trouble. Bags is happily in a dead end job, Chuv is destined to a life of international recognition and fun, hell even my cousin Pete, the hormonally-rampant teenager is gonna have more fun than me next year unless I pull my finger out - he's going around the world!
But it's my life, what everyone else does is their business and good luck to all my friends who I always hope to do well. The happier they are the happier I am and long may this cycle continue. My life is mine alone to control so I've decided to forget what everyone else is doing and to plan my future based on topping no-one elses achievements but my own. And topping this year is gonna be a mission!
In retrospect I have achieved so much this year and in truth I had only half a year to make an impact and actually achieve anything I wanted to achieve. The first half I was in Uni and it was more an obligation to get a degree. I wouldn't have been there if I had my way but once I got the degree I could do what I really wanted to and had to make up for 3 years lost time.
But when I finally got the chance, I got out as fast as possible straight to Glastonbury, which was made extra special by the fact that the physics department DIDN'T make me go back for a retake, then I spent most of the next three months making costumes for the Notting Hill Carnival with the Yaa Asantewaa centre which was led to the best three days of the year, and possibly the best three days of my life so far. It was the culmination of a years work for most of the group, 3 months work for me and the fulfillment of a lifes ambition. I just didn't bother to sleep for 3 days pumped up on adrenaline. We won 2nd place in the pre-carnival gala, 4th on the road and I was in all the local papers in the build up.
Scattered in all that, I made it onto the Raleigh London Commitee and and worked with someone famous without even knowing it and got into the Raleigh Intro weekends as well as all the other stuff. There wasn't a day in the second half of the year when I didn't have fire in my belly.
Then I topped it off by going to America the rest of the year. Not bad. And to think Lee was saying that life after uni is not exactly a bed of roses!
So what the hell am I gonna do to top that next year?!?!
With a whole year at my disposal I guess there's twice as many adventures to be had, twice as much mischief and double the amount of people to offend. I've been looking at making New Years Resolutions as well, seeing as I'm not back until then, but doing that would involve having to make an effort to change myself and I quite like myself thank you very much. So I've instead made 10 predictions which are open to interpretation and fallible. And require no effort at all on my part which is all good with me.
Prediction 1 - I'm gonna be on TV by the end of the year. (Yes I made that prediction this year - I'm still working on it)
Prediction 2 - I'm gonna go into another year of being single. I know this prediction changes every day, but then as I said these predictions are pure bollocks anyway.
Prediction 3 - I'm gonna jump off a pier somewhere with a pair of ridiculous wings strapped to my back
Prediction 4 - I will smoke weed with some long haired people on top of a mountain in a third world country
Prediction 5 - I'll jump off a mountain with a not-so ridiculous pair of wings on my back
Prediction 6 - I will learn kung fu
Prediction 7 - The single most bizarre thing of my whole life will happen to me of which I will emerge just about in one piece although I might have to tax my travel insurance for it. It will be the story that will top even the communist training camp story and the gorilla story. It will be amazing and the story to end all pub stories.
Prediction 8 - I'll actually turn up on time to meet one of my mates with no reschedule or cancellation. That includes going round to yours Jay, something that I've been meaning to do but it keeps getting bumped back I swear! (Of course as you all know this one is the least likely of all the predictions to come true so I wouldn't hold my breath)
Prediction 9 - I'll find something to do a masters in that I can actually see myself doing for any length of time. My attention span is just too short to commit to anything right now.
Prediction 10 - Vietnam
I think they are all likely to happen. Watch this space.
It's always a sad state of affairs when you've spent X-pounds* on a holiday to California only to find that the most exciting thing to happen on some days is winning at Solitaire. But then this is Orange County and that could easily happen but not to me - hell no - with a fresh pair of legs and the usual skewed sense of humour I set off on a bit of a walk around the seemingly endless roads that make up this armpit of a county to hunt for danger while trying not to get run over by the frankly abysmal drivers that seem to be the bulk of the american drivers.
Hell, by about 7am this morning I had already seen enough driving "anomalies" to give Skiv a coronary. Skiv mate, next time you come here wear a nappy as you will shit yourself from shouting so much at these fuckwits. I mean, I know fuck all about driving as you know, and even I was starting to look a bit like you mate, yelling myself hoarse at the fools that brazenly pulled out in front of us in a complete traffic jam despite actually making no forward progress in the process. This country is so full of idiots, that the freak is actually called the village non-idiot.
My quest for adventure (in Orange County finding adventure as such is like finding gold in a urinal. It needs a little imagination) took me past some weird and wonderful places in Little Saigon that convinced me once again that I am part of a strange cultural experiment carried out by aliens in which an already confused vietnamese boy, unsure of his identity is placed within a race of people clinging to theirs.
The shop with the sign "Water and Eggs" which sold nothing but water and erm...eggs was a highlight of Little Saigon which felt very third world indeed, and I got a particular thrill from seeing signs everywhere which read "No Solicitors".
But the best part of the day came after visiting the paintball shop. I was crossing the road wondering to myself what a gun felt like and bang! it hit me. Across the street was a gun shop. It called itself The Armory or something really macho and I thought it would be a great idea to go in there and tell em how crap I thought their country was and perhaps to kick up a debate on the right to bear arms. So I marched in there and...chickened out.
I cannot quite describe what came over me. It wasn't fear as such as that requires suggests that the entity which you fear has power of you. You respect that which you fear. I couldn't care less if I died, but it hit me there and then that the main problem with the right to bear firearms is that any fool can carry one. And following on from my earlier point, most Americans I've met in Orange County are fools. And as much as I don't mind dying, I DO mind being killed by an idiot in much the same way as most people wouldn't object to being run over by a Porsche but have reservations about crossing the road in front of a Skoda.
I've walked into Martial Arts shops and dojos and felt genuinely humbled by the fact that the owners/senseis could very easily kick my arse from there to the moon. But there's always been the respect there. There was no respect here though. I would never dare insult a sensei but any fool can pull a trigger.
As I stood in front of this guy with a strong Texan accent and the IQ of a slime mould I decided that although I could have kicked up a storm for a laugh, I would just see how far I could get by humouring him without getting killed. I got as far as suggesting that a rifle had a barrel just long enough to shove up someones arse before I just got bored of being there and left.
Before heading back to the safety of my own home via a bonsai shop I decided I had to check if a rumour I heard was true. So I set off to Wal-mart, the owners of Asda (yes they even sell George clothes) to see if you really could pick up guns with your weekly shopping. I wouldn't believe it wil I saw it.
And i saw it.
There between the camping gear and the toy section (yes i'm serious) was the gun section in all its glory, with glass cabinets full of rifles and shotguns, the perfect addition to any shopping basket. Fucking maniacs.
*Now if I'm gonna be honest, in this case X is equal to nothing at the moment really...
