Get off my cloud - questions_must_be_asked

My desire is great

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 19:27:20 +0100

As I glare jealously at the man opposite me on the train with his shiny glowing Macbook I take solace from the words of my journalistic hero Mr Charlie Brooker who yesterday condemned Apple products and their owners, despite his own hatred of Microsoft Windows, in his not to be missed Monday Guardian column.

And yet despite the fact that this GOD of a man to me has poked fun at Apple, ribbed owners of its products mercilessly for their unwavering support of the machines they will unanimously stand up for at any given opportunity and confessed to his own use of a Windows powered Sony Vaio laptop I cannot help but drool like a schoolboy in a biscuit factory at the Macbook that stares at me from across this cramped plastic train table. Why why why do these machines instil such ludicrous desire in me to the point that I genuinely have to think hard about whether I could conceivably kill a man for the chance to own a brand new 15” Macbook Pro?

Looking across at the git and his Macbook I try my hardest to justify my reasons for not having one (aside from the fact that I don’t have any money) and wonder about the glowing Apple logo on the back of the screen. Whilst this is aesthetically pleasing and indubitably cool it does have to be said that it is essentially unnecessary, other than to irk the likes of me who aspire to such machines. For every second it is glowing smugly in my direction I think about just how much battery it’s using up. No my dusty black Toshiba laptop has no glowing logo on the outside BUT it isn’t wasting any power in displaying one so HA take that Macbook. If portability is all about power then at what point does one sacrifice the longevity of a battery in favour of a big fat glowing “FUCK YOU MY LAPTOP IS BETTER THAN YOURS” neon giveaway?

Sadly however this small victory for my ordinary looking Windows powered machine makes not a jot of difference to my intense deep down desire to own not just a Macbook but an Apple iPhone AND a Macpro desktop to accompany my already much loved second hand iPod nano. How does Steve Jobs make his machines so unbelievably sexy? Sharing the train with Macbook owners is like going to the after party of some supermodel fashion show with your dumpy, pug faced, spotty, glasses wearing subspecies of a girlfriend in tow.

And even though I KNOW owning a Mac of some kind will put me in the company of some of the most irritatingly smug, fart-sniffing twats this planet holds I STILL can’t help myself wanting to be in among this “elite”. Even if it is a club of wankers, I want in.

Curse you Steve Jobs. Curse your aesthetically pleasing hardware. Curse your cuddly user friendly software. Curse your marketing strategy that makes me as a PC user feel entirely worthless as a human being. I don’t know how you’ve managed it but as I bitterly shake my fist in jealous rage I am at the same time entirely in awe of you and your company. This in turn makes me hate myself whereas I bet Mac users never feel self pity or shame.

How I loathe them.

Could I conceivably kill a man?

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Sun, 17 Jul 2005 17:50:00 +0100

On my way into work yesterday I pulled out in front of a Renault Espace or some such people carrier I assumed was being driven by some sensible mum or similar. Working on the principle that they were unlikely to want to drive at the speed I do I darted out to avoid getting stuck behind it only to have the thing start beeping and flashing its lights. Bearing in mind it really isn't hard to wind me up these days I was instantly aggravated and stuck my fingers up at the driver, who I could now see was some guy probably about my age looking, it has to be said, totally out of place in such a mumsy vehicle. Anyway, this guy was not amused and quickly put his foot down to go round my small red car angrily. Seems these things actually do have some power, it's just rare you ever see anyone driving them so wrecklessly. Well once he'd overtaken me he slammed on his brakes and came to a complete stop, almost forcing my car into the back of his which only succeeded in heightening my already furious temper.

He was now glaring out his back windscreen at me, waving his fists and making other such menacing gestures and then as I tried to round him he jerked his car into the middle of the road in an attempt to block my path. This guy wanted a fight. And then it occurred to me, I've never actually been in a fight, at least not a physical fight anyway, and instead fo being scared I just wanted to get out of my car weilding a meaty hand cannon and blow this man to pieces. No seriously, I wanted him dead. I honestly believe if I'd had access to a gun there and then I would now be writing this from prison. I was that enraged. And this is waht's worrying me.

What if I'd been in America where guns are freely available to all and sundry? If I had a gun I would have used it to wound or kill this angry driver, I actually would have. That's fucking mental. I mean right now the idea of it just seems daft to me. I've no interest in harming others. But for that moment out on the road it was the only thought in my mind, to make this man suffer. It is completely against my nature to be like this and I abhor violence, guns and Americans in general so what has made me so seethingly mad that I came over this way?

I'll tell you what it is. It is my overall disdain for life in general. I am rapidly degenerating into some sort of careless mulch, growing more and more disillusioned with every waking minute. Taking out my frustrations at every little tiny detail on absolutely anyone and anything that gets near me will do me no favours but it seems this is where I am headed.

I seriously need to sort my life out or I am going to end up in some serious shit. I imagine myself as some merciless bounty hunter, training as a killer simply because I have no feeling left in my body for my own welfare or that of any other human life. Slowly but surely all colour and life is draining from my body and with each day that passes I care less and less for the world around me, sinking deeper and deeper into endless despair.

Where will it all lead? How am I going to change the course of my life? Is there really any point anyway? Will I live to see 25? And above all, what is the fucking point?

**Musically speaking **

Really loving the Evil 9 mix of Alex Dolby's Hazy Way. This song is almost as good as being on drugs. Fucking love it

Am I a massive girl?

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Tue, 08 Feb 2005 00:11:34 +0000

I am meant to be visiting our backwards buddies down under later this year but I am shit-scared of all the hideous spiders out there you have to deal with.

I appreciate that they aren't literally everywhere but the very thought of just seeing a Funnelweb for real makes me think I would probably just collapse of shock.

I feel like such a fucking GIRL but I have had this irrational fear of spiders since I was a kid.

Oz has such a great climate and sounds like an incredible place to visit, there is so much I want to do there. But I'll be buggered if I want to check my sheets every night to make sure I don't die horribly, or check under the toilet seat every time I take a dump in case some heinous spider bastard wants to eat my ass.

Just the very thought of it makes my hair stand on end.

What the fuck do I do?

Reading - what went wrong?

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Mon, 24 Jan 2005 12:20:00 +0000

Now, I haven't been mugged many times in my life, thankfully I've thus far avoided America and I try to keep away from Croydon wherever possible. However, the 3 occasions it has happened have all been in Reading. I thought perhaps I was unlucky and my Reading-based associates assured me this was out of character for the town.

Well imagine my surprise when I read the latest Berkshire news on the BBC's website (see here) that a late night brawl involving over 200 people has resulted in 22 arrests on Saturday night. That is quite a fight. But as if this wasn't bad enough three further stories caught my eye from the same site (here, here and here). In particular the idea of a kid as young as 12 running down pedestrians in a van really is quite frightening. So it begs the question,

What the fuck is wrong with Reading?

There were 25 shootings last year and it has the 4th highest rate of car crime in all of Europe. But why? Why is this seemingly average and innocent satellite town so riddled with crime and fear?

Well I've no idea for the reasoning. There are a great many places in Britain more economically barren, many with less open space and it's hardly as if it is isolated from the rest of the country. I just can't find the reasoning.

So my children, it is over to you. Just what has lead to the once prosperous town of Reading degenerating into early 90's New York City? And is there anywhere worse?

What's the deal with Marmite?

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Mon, 10 Jan 2005 23:25:36 +0000

So... Marmite. Apparantly you either love it or hate it, but if I'm honest I'd have to say that though I don't hate it, I wouldn't go out of my way to get some, so I think the advertising campaign is somewhat false as I am proof there is a middle ground. But this is beside the point.

How has something as unusual as Marmite survived so long in its original form, without change to its packaging or ingredients, and without anyone imitating it. You can go into any Tesco or Sainsbury's or some other lower grade supermarket and they will have row after row of their own branded products to rival other more popular brands, of pretty much everything, except for Marmite. What makes Marmite so special that it is not imitated by anyone? Is it simply that the market isn't big enough? I can't imagine this is the case as I don't think I've ever been to a food shop or a hotel that didn't stock it, in fact I don't think I've ever been to anyone's house that didn't have any. The stuff is absolutely everywhere, and the company are obviously making money out of it as they pump out big budget advertising campaigns regularly enough. So what's going on? Is it perhaps really complicated to make and only the Marmite company can get it right? I really don't understand.

Also, Marmite would have us believe that it's thanks to the little black pot with the yellow lid that we won the war, and yet nobody kicks up a fuss about this claim. How do they get away with it? I think there is something we are not being told. Marmite is too curious a phenomenon to just ignore. How does it work? How do they make it? Where does it all come from? Who's idea was it anyway?

I demand a full investigation, and some toast, with Marmite. Just a thin spreading mind. Hmmm perhaps I do sit closer to the love it camp than I do the hate it side

Girls

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Sun, 09 Jan 2005 22:19:42 +0000

If I wasn't so obsessed with girls would I have more success with girls?

Is it my worrying besotment (is that a word? No) that is directly attributable to my all round failings with the fairer sex?

For me to find a girl would I have to not be looking?

For me to not be looking at girls would I not be somebody else?

Would I have more luck if I was somebody else?

What are the chances of me actually being able to curb my girl watching habit?

Am I doomed to live a life of solitude?

Shall I just give up now?

Swedish saunas

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Wed, 05 Jan 2005 20:30:00 +0000

Ok so when I think of Sweden I think of Ulrika Jonsson and saunas (not always together I might add), but do Swedish people actually sauna all that often? I mean does your average Sven have his own garden sauna for when he needs to mellow out a little? Do they not have pot?

Which makes me wonder, what does the average Swede think of us, the British?

Chance'd be a fine thing but if ever a Swedish native stumbles across my pointless corner of the internet would you mind enlightening me? I've no idea why I must know, but I must.

Why am I not in the pub?

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Fri, 24 Dec 2004 19:41:37 +0000

In short, because I'm at work. Christmas eve has to be the best night of the year for going out to the pub. New Years Eve is different, and generally shit. But Christmas Eve represents a good value night out, when everyone gets sloshed and happy. I believe it's called merry.

And yet, here am I, at my desk, waiting for the phone to ring (or rather, hoping it doesn't). You might ask why I am doing this, and my answer to that is that I am entirely motivated by money. I blame British society.

In response to this sorry state of affairs I am going to get properly trolleyed at lunchtime on Christmas Day. Bollocks to the family being over, I didn't get to go out tonight so I owe it to myself to stagger home swearing tomorrow afternoon. And by god I will.

Happy Christmas

Stoopid ear

noreply@blogspirit.com () — Fri, 24 Dec 2004 05:17:12 +0000

Why does my ear hurt?

It has hurt for ages now, but it just decides to get proper annoying in time for Christmas. I can't go to the doctors at Christmas can I? He'll be at home, except he won't be in excruciating pain, like I will be.

Curse you ear