Dinosaurs

I love dinosaurs as much as the next sane person but I've always had this nagging feeling that their time on this earth completely overshadows ours, and that they completely overstayed their welcome. 

I could be swinging around a lightsabre on the Starship Enterprise with my new friend the T1000 if it wasn't for those damn dinosaurs.

Technique

Seduction is a hard technique to master. A man must be confident without coming across as cocky, he must remain suave without coming across as being gay, and he must be charming without coming across as creepy. I have mastered none of these but I feel that my readers should learn from my mistakes on the clubbing scene. To describe one fateful night and failed chat-up line I have drawn a comic to document the event:

Many more cringe worthy moments have occurred and will eventually make it to this blog.  

Being single

It has been 4 months since I have written a blog here so I felt it was high time I updated it. Not much has changed in those months but I am now single! After 3 and a half years me and my ex called it a day. This means that my vulgar and twisted mind needs to learn how to communicate with people of the opposite sex once again. I am 3 years out of practise, and even back then my technique consisted of getting really drunk then ploughing onto the dance floor in hope that my gyrating hips and 80s dance moves might not repulse every single girl there. My success rate wasn't great. So I must learn how to 'play the game' as such, and I plan on documenting my journey to stud-dom here. So here's what I've learned so far.

The clubbing scene.


I really, really want to love clubs. They are the meat market of pulling hot spots. I actually have a lot of fun getting drunk, doing the robot, and generally pissing about with friends. But the whole 'shoes and shirt' thing needs to change. As a man I am forced to wear smart shoes and a smart shirt to be allowed entry. I wouldn't mind this if it wasn't for the fact that I will undoubtedly get some drunk girl's heal pounded on top of my foot, taking a chunk out of my best shoes . This is after some 6ft Rugby player has barged into her, knocking her Bacardi and Coke all over the aforementioned shirt. Instead of a dress code clubs should provide their customers with a poncho and wooden clogs.


As for attracting the opposite sex in a club I can't help but notice everyone is at their worst. Eyes are drooping, sweat patches are appearing, and kissing anyone in a club is like playing vomit roulette. If your lucky they haven't puked, if you're really unlucky you might end up with a chunk'o'chunder in your own mouth. All of this coupled by the fact that everyone around the club seems to be doing this:

It really doesn't make for the sexiest environment to meet people. The remedy I have found is to drink so much you no longer care. Still, no luck thus far.


Text message etiquette.


"How long should I wait before I text her? Should I text her back instantly to show I'm keen or wait half a day so I don't seem desperate? What if she asks to sext, I hate sexting?! Do I match her kisses or give her less because I'm a man!? AND WHY CAN'T I STOP MAKING THE :P FACE IN EVERY GODDAMN TXT I SEND?!" - These are all questions any man with a half a pair of testicles wouldn't worry about. But I am no ordinary man. My main concern is that something I say will be taken the wrong way so I find myself constantly using emoticons to make sure that no text message may be misconstrued. This means that in every text message I send to a female will be full of :)s, :Ps and ;)s. The downside to this is I look like a 14 year old with a severe addiction to MSN messenger. Conclusion: my text message communication needs desperate attention.

Fuckin' mobiles

So far in my adventures of being single I have:

• Lost a mobile
• Had a wallet stolen
• Torn a ligament in my knee requiring me to spend 6 weeks on crutches. So if you know anyone with a House (the Hugh Laurie kind) or cripple fetish send them my way.
• Smiled at many ladies, only to have them smile back causing instant panic, immediate looks to the floor and profuse sweating. Beta male all the way.

I have much to learn.

Hugh Laurie anyone?

Run, Forest! Run!

I graduated University back in 2010 and at the time it was the conclusion to a manic three years of booze, videogames, and junk food. It was everything I expected and wanted, however what I didn't expect was to come out the other side feeling like a fat load. It turns out eating nothing but cheese based foods followed by gallons of beer and rum is not good for your waist line. So I, like many others, made it my new years resolution to improve my level of fitness and fight the beer belly. To ensure I did this I signed myself up to a half marathon hoping the pressure of the event would force me to go running. To a degree it has worked and next month on the 11th March I am going to be running 13.1 miles to raise money for charity.


13.1 miles is a long distance. When I signed up to do this run I hadn't quite fathomed that 13.1 miles is a sizeable distance. Shortly after my first run, where I assumed I had hit the 5 mile mark only to realise it was closer to the 2 mile mark did it hit home that this wasn't going to be as easy as I first thought. 13.1 miles is really far. They shouldn't call it a 'half marathon' but a marathon. Then call a marathon a 'double marathon' or something. 


But the real reason for this blog post is I am plugging for support. I am hoping to raise money for the NSPCC who help protect vulnerable children. My money raising page can be found here and any amount you can give will be used for a good cause! So dig deep and throw some monetary encouragement my way. So c'mon don't be shy and just imagine every £ you give is a punch to a paedophiles face.