Moving Home.

Oi. Fuckheads.

I did start with "ladies and gentlemen", but then I changed it. I know which you prefer.

So yeah. We're moving home. The fact that Euan bummed Aslan is no longer something that is lingering in the public memory. They have something else to worry about now. Something much bigger and scarier. Euan once bummed Aslan, but now it's time for Aslan's revenge.

If anybody wants to come and visit our new home at LTWW, I'll be more than happy to open the door for you.

Thanks to everybody who read any of these words. They've made me realise what I want to do with my life.

My biggest thanks has to go out to the man himself though. The long haired, pudgy faced freak that he is; Mr Euan "dead behind the eyes" Menzies.

Good night. I'll hopefully see you all soon.

Farewell stats

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I'm Ill

So this my 100^th post. It’s long overdue if you ask me. I mean, it’s not going to be the 100 post special, but it is the 100^th post. I want to say; I hope you understand, but I’m sure you do. If you don’t understand, here’s something that you might find more amusing; something more fitting to one of your intellect.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way. I’m ill. I don’t ever like to moan about being ill, but I do. I often do things I don’t like, though. Such as ironing (I haven’t ironed any clothes for like a year) and reading about celebrities. You just can’t help yourself sometimes, though. You get to work and there’s nothing to read apart from a 4-page spread about Jordan (the slag)’s latest attempt at spreading her genes. She failed the first time, you think she’s learn by now. Like a dyspraxic Midus, everything she touches turns to shit. Which brings me round to my headache; I sometimes dream that she sneaks into my room and massages my brain. It’s not sexual (it is), but it’s still nice.

I don’t even know what I’m talking about, but such is the joy of illness. You don’t need to make sense. If I had said any of this stuff 60-years-ago, I would have been locked up and given electro shock treatment.

Euan was given electro shock treatment once. They were attempting to give him emotions, but we all know well that went.

Dear Tesco,

I don’t know any better way to start this blog, other than; I fucking hate Tesco. Now I know that you may call me a hypocrite, because I still shop at Tesco, but people do things they hate every day out of necessity. Oscar Wilde stayed in a marriage for years, because if he left his wife, it would be obvious that he was gay. It doesn’t mean that he was a hypocrite; it just shows that necessity sometimes outweighs ideology.

I am a student and don’t have what the middle aged, middle classed and middle management call “disposable income”, because of this I have to buy my wares at a shop with more “buy one get one free” offers than anywhere else. I can accept that. I know that the second I start earning some real money in life, I will stop shopping at that detritus-filled, building of the damned.

2010 was not a good year for Tesco. Comedian and self confessed ‘prick’ Ray Peacock led an attack on Tesco through his hilarious podcast with his mate Ed Gamble (who also claims to be a comedian, but the judges are still out on that).

Last year, Tesco sold knifes and fireworks, but threw people out of their shops for having hoods. They sold alcohol that definitely killed people, but they dragged a young disabled boy out of his wheelchair, because his Mum gave him a bit of chicken to keep him quiet while she shopped.

This is just a glimpse of how shit Tesco are.

ANYWAY. This all seems too serious. Here is my problem with Tesco;

They are shite.

Yesterday I popped into Tesco to get some food (potato waffles, etc). I got to the self service counter, which pisses me off on a whole new level. I can’t even start to understand how they are getting away with that. To save money, they’ve hired machines to do peoples’ jobs. In out current economic climate, how can that be fair? There’re not enough jobs as it is so how can giving computers our jobs help? I just want to kick Henry in the face; fucking smug excuse for a dyson.

So I got to the self service, because there were no people other than an old bitch working. I say she was working. She was doing that thing that they do at Tesco. She was in charge of the machines (I hope they go Terminator on her one day) and by in charge, I mean that she walked about and had to tell them off every 30 seconds. For computers, they are shit computers. They don’t do what you tell them. You scan an item, you sit it on the scales and then it bleeps and tells you that you’re committing some kind of Tesco crime. It assumes that you’re constantly trying to steal and cheat the system.

I scanned my first item. I sat it on the scales. BEEP BEEP BEEP. The old woman tutted, walked over and waved a fob at the computer screen. I smiled and laughed and she ignored me and walked away. I scanned my second item. I sat it on the scales. BEEP BEEP BEEP. She walked over, tutted and shook her head and waved her fob at the screen. I again smiled and she walked away. I scanned my third item. I sat it on the scales. BEEP BEEP BEEP TUTTING. You get the idea.

This happened for each of my twelve items. 36 beeps, 12 tutts and 12 fob flashes.

I have never seen anybody that hated their job so much. The premise is one of the oldest jobs in the world; she is largely a shepherd for computer sheep and she hates it, but not as much as I hate Tesco.

This blog isn’t as funny, because I tried to write is more seriously, so that my argument has some integrity. It’s still better than the letter I wrote for Tesco;

Dear Tesco,

Cunts.

I happily await your reply.

Paul McCallum.

Paul and Euan Finally Do It

I have achieved. I could die tonight and I know I’d go happily. When my life flashes before my eyes, I’ll rush past it all and just enjoy what happened last night between me and Euan.

I’ll give you some back story;

1) Euan has woken up numerous times in his life, mid-coital (I think that’s the term). He literally wakes up having sex.

2) I have a friend called Mhairi who I’ve known my whole life.

3) Last night my girlfriend Jess and Mhairi got very drunk and Mhairi decided to stay here at my flat, in my bed with my girlfriend (nothing happened. I’ve asked them and they both suspiciously told me so (*cough*))

I think you all see the problem here. Mhairi is sleeping in my bed and that leaves me bedless and without the possibility to sleep in the living room on the two comfy couches (hehe).

After a LOT of convincing that I wouldn’t do “anything weird”, Euan said I could stay in his bed with him. The average person would think I was taking a risk by sleeping in a bed with a known sleep-sexer, but I thought it would be worth it for this blog alone and who cares about the average person? The average person has a low IQ and 50% of people, by definition, are more stupid than that.

So yeah. We slept together. It finally happened. He has finally cracked. I don’t know what it was that made him start to trust me. Maybe it was the out of date flake I bought him the other day. I really don’t know.

The sleep was quite nice. I woke up for the first time at about 7.30, which is great, because I usually wake up several times at night, starting at about 4. I guess I just felt safe with him nuzzled beside me.

I don’t think he sexed me in the night (even though I was naked), but when I woke up at 7.30, he was awake and my big toe was all covered in slobbers. It’s fine though, cause he said a big dog did it. I’m so lucky I had my big man there to save me from the big dog.

If anyone thinks this is a lie, you’re actually wrong this time. This is all entirely true. I am genuinely as amazed as you are. And yes, I did have to move the squashed toffee from under his pillow.

Bus Musings 10

The bus prices have gone up. What kind of sick world do we live in? Buses are the main form of transport for the poor. I'm not saying I'm poor, but look at how many buses I get.

I am genuinely pissed off. Nothing on the bus is better. They said they were putting prices up to match inflation and to pay for the new services they provide. Who the fuck is using wifi on the 15 to Whitfield though? What a waste of fucking money.

They might not have only been using it to pay for the wifi. Maybe it's also for the shitty seats, which haven't been changed this millennium, or the duct tape, which is holding the fucking, blundering death trap together.

If I see anything in the world, which hasn't been increased by 15p today, I'm going to write a letter of complaint to Dundee city council. How middle class am I? Or maybe I'm trying to prove I'm not poor.

You know who else I hate? Fucking Tesco. Time to work though. Blog to follow shortly.

Bus Musings 9

I just ran for the bus. Why do people ever run for buses? Are people (me included) ever in that much of a hurry. I can't think of one time I've ever been going anywhere that urgently. If I'd missed this bus and got the next one in 10 minutes, I would have been like 3 minutes late for work. Nobody would have cared.

I'm the only one on my department at work who hasn't either been very late or failed to turn up this week. One girl even changed the rota so it said she was off on Wednesday. She literally drew a line through her shift and never turned up. Then she told our boss that he did it. I've never been so audacious.

Time for work. Bet I’m the only one in.

Euan's New Phone

Euan got a new phone for Christmas. I say he got a new phone, he didn't. All he got for Christmas was hints.
There is some truth behind this phone nonsense though. He has got a new phone, but because his parents don't love him enough, it's just his brother's old phone. He's never cared too much for phones, though, so it's all gravy with him (not actual gravy, he doesn't speak to meat stock and hope his friends hear him.)

I never knew how little he cared about phones until today though. Euan turned to me ans asked me if I wanted to marry a witch. I entertained him by pretending they were real for a while, but then I realised that he had a dirty wee agenda, so asked him why he would want to marry a witch. He told me that it'd be great, because you wouldn't have to have a phone. If you wanted to speak to your wife, you "would just whisper into a feather and then blow it into the wind".

I don't know why this is a preferable form of communication for him, but it is, so why not. His new idea for facebook is that he wants us to gently lick letters into a camel's bumhole. I don't think it'll take off.