Euan's 2010

This entry is more for the people who don't give a fuck about me and Bob, or John Simons (I think the PC term is mongs, but I'm not sure). Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Euan's breakdown of 2010!

It really has been a busy year for little Euan Menzies. He'd tell you that so much has happened to him in 2010, but I'll tell you the truth. If you hadn't seen Euan since 2005 and bumped into him today, it'd be like the world's hardest game of spot the difference. In fact, it'd be rigged, because he hasn't changed at all. He still wears the same clothes (even down to the underwear), he still lacks basic human emotion and he's still hilariously funny to stare at for slightly too long.

We've established that he hasn't changed, so let's work out what has happened in the last year to the sausage skin filled with mashed potatoes that is Ms Menzies.

In January, Euan did nothing, because he was still hibernating and nursing his nonsey nogin from his new year hangover. He literally slept for a month. He thought he woke up at one point, but then realised that he was just dreaming on level 3.

In February Euan started casual racism. He was jokingly racist about the dirty foreigners who work in Istanbul. He also started speaking to himself a lot; which I now realise he does constantly. I'm used to it though.

In March Euan booked a flight to visit a stray dog in Thailand, but never went because of a problem with his heart he was having. They say he couldn't fly and that I had to be nice to him for a while. I see that didn't last.

In April Euan rolled a chocolate egg down a hill in the name of the father, the son and the...fuck it, he can have one name like all of us...he did it for God, okay? God! Not a holy spirit or a man with no penis who is also his own dad. Just God.

In May Euan's heart problem was getting better and he finished second year of uni. He did as you'd expect for a man of his meager, mong-esque mental capacity.

In June Euan turned into his twenties and we all had a lovely party and I wasn't sick so stop making fun cause it never happened and you're all dicks. Also he saw his brother having sex.

In July Euan was still 20 and acting 53.

In August, Euan wasted away his life by playing a lot of bad computer games, but it makes him happy, so let him (don't. Bully him and write blogs about it)

In September we want back to uni and Euan said something about all women loving a squashed toffee. This inspired me and I haven't stopped writing nearly daily blogs since.

In October Euan dressed up as Halloween. He looked...with his eyes.

In November Euan wanked himself silly in the living room and thought we never knew. He also ate pigs trotters, which he says was his favourite thing of the year, but after seeing how furiously he masturbated in November, I don’t believe him.

In December, Euan drank toilet water.

Well, that was long and drawn out, but it had to he said. I wonder what 2011 will hold for him. Whatever it is, you'll find the truth behind his actions here at Euania; Chronicles thereof.

Christian Musings

Right, here we go.

The father, the son and the holy spirit are all the same thing. That means that God, Jesus and whoever the spirit is (Santa?) are the same person. It also means that God, although being Jesus, is also Jesus' dad.

My favourite part about this, that took me 20 years yo realise is that God kept all the good powers for himself. Was he scared that his Son would grow up and usurp him? Think about it like this;

God has the power to create the universe in an instant. Then he has time for a nap (which he didn't need, cause he's God) and then come back every day for the next 5, to create little things like animals, man and light.

Jesus has the power to turn water into wine and to make tuna sandwiches last for almost a whole party.

I really don't think God made it very fair for his son at all. He can do all of this amazing universe creating, sea parting stuff, and his poor wee son gets fishy, bready wine powers. If anything, Jesus is French. I know he could throw an amazing party for 11 close friends and 1 cunt, but when compared to ten plagues and using a burning bush as wifi, he really has all of the shit powers.



Oh, and if it wasn't for being able to sneak around in heavy boots, Santa would be powerless, too.

Not a very fair distribution of powers from a supposedly benevolent God at all, I'd say.

A Review of 2010 with Daniel Taylor, Part 1.

So, two thousand and ten has almost passed, fading away like Sam Henderson's patience with humanity. Much has risen and fallen back down again, many great political and world shaking events. This year deserves a documentation of sorts, so that future generations may look back, digital archaeologists scouring the Internet and one day stumbling upon this blog. The world has changed much since 2009, and mankind has grown just a little, for better or for worse.

But fuck that, here's what myself and Paul thought of 2010. Or rather, what we enjoyed and hated in 2010.

Bob - TV

It's been a remarkable year for television. While the X-Factor and the assembled army of celebrity reality shows have plowed their way through the nations consciousness, the alternative choice has been rather grand. Or at least, it has for me. Finally after what seemed like a millennium, the amazing Futurama was renewed for a new series, this time on Comedy Central. Fortunately, the animated sci-fi show hasn't gone the way of The Simpsons, and instead remains as laugh-out-loud funny as ever.

Earlier this year Matt Smith picked up the role as the eleventh Doctor Who, replacing the seemingly irreplaceable David Tennant. They also had the sense to bring in new writers, and so out went the old cringe worthy "BBCness" and in with some new surprisingly well written new scripts. American Dad and 30 Rock also started a new series the arse end of this year, and are still refusing to stop being funny. The same can be said for Peep Show, which is still (still!) feeling as fresh and as cringeworthingly hilarious as ever. I could go on forever about what else I watched this year, but I hear Paul's literary genius knocking on the word door.

Favourite TV show 2010

American Dad!

It still makes me laugh more than anything, and just shows how much Family Guy has gone downhill. Much darker this season as well, which is always a good thing.

Runners up

Doctor Who and Futurama

I cant decide which show I looked forward to the most. It had a happy ending though - Futurama (as mentioned) is still as good as it ever was (despite some filler episodes), and the new Doctor Who almost made me not miss David Tennant. Almost.

Most disappointing TV show

How I met your mother

While there were still a few laughs, the show is feeling really drawn out now - they should have ended it a couple of seasons ago. The storyline's have been as thin as to be almost non-existent, and the characters are now just shadows of what they once were. I swear to god if they don't introduce the mother soon, I'm going to kill someone. Or just stop watching.

Runner up

Southpark

Yeah I know. I hate saying bad things about one of my favourite TV shows of all time. In all honesty, it has been as funny (almost) and as clever as it always was. The only problem is that they seem to have run out of large issues to tackle. Now, it has become really topical - a satirical take on what has been happening in the news recently. While there has been some stand out episodes (the 200th special particularly), it feels like it should have ended while at it's peak a few seasons ago.

PAUL - TV

So the year of the tiger (or just 2010 if you don’t believe in China) is almost over. It’s been a helluva year. We’ve seen more job loses everywhere, student protests and most importantly Leona Lewis lost the X Factor for the second year in a row (When will they learn that we just don’t care). The year of the tiger really has been weird for lots of reasons, but I, like Bob, would like to start with the television.

Favourite TV Show

Modern Family

Now a lot of people reading this will not have heard of, never mind have seen, Modern Family. It was dreamt up in 2009 by the creator of Frasier. As a huge Frasier fan, I wasn’t holding my breath when I watched the first episode, but by the end of it, I was struggling for breath because I was laughing so much.

It is, without a doubt, one of the most ingenious and simple premises for a television show ever. It is in the style of a mocumentary; the style that Ricky Gervais created with The Office; but instead of setting it in an office it is set in three family homes. The show follows the life of a father, his gay son and his mental daughter and their families. There is a documentary team in each of their houses and their daily lives are followed. Of course, because it’s on TV they don’t life normal lives at all and this is where the humour derives from.

I don’t think I’ve done it any justice in this description, so I’ll just say that the father (who is in his 60s) is married to Sofia Vergara from Baywatch (who is much hotter now in her 30s and easily, in my opinion, the hottest woman on the planet, except Jess.)

Runner Up

Like Bob, it’s either got to be American Dad for it’s increasingly funny episodes it manages to put out after 6 seasons, or Doctor Who. I never thought I’d like the new doctor. I even shouted at the TV when he first appeared, made fun of his massive chin (just realised that both Stan from American Dad and The Doctor have massive chins. Coincidence? I THINK NOT) and hated him from the first second, but by the second second or the third second I was in love with him and his new assistant. Especially his new assistant, if you catch my drift (If you don’t, it’s cause she’s hot (if you needed that bit, stop reading now.))

Most Disappointing Show of 2010

Glee

Dear Glee,

I loved you. Why have you done this to me? I am not in the slightest afraid to admit that I cried at several of your first season episodes or that I think Sue Sylvester is one of the best characters ever created. I was so excited for season two of you, that I watched all of season one again, just to get into that mood that only a Gleek knows. Remember that mood? The warm and fuzzy insides mood? Well you DUCKING WELL SHOULDN’T! What was good about you Glee, was that you were always light hearted, always funny and always with a semi serious undertone that never made itself too aware until those episodes (which I liked the least, but still loved) where you had to drive the story with one less song and a bit more dialogue. I could accept that.

When I turned on season two and saw the gay one (Kurt? I can’t remember now, because you’re RUINED IT) singing The Beatles “Hold your hand” to his inexplicably comatose father, I wanted to fucking kill you. Why did you start being so in your face and ridiculous? So American? Your undertones were almost Shakespearean. You were beautiful.

And one more thing? To give Britney a whole episode and then to have Meatloaf play a 43 second cameo is a fucking outrage and you should all die.

No Longer Yours,

A former Gleek.

Ps; I hope season three starts with a columbine style massacre and the glee club is reduced to the wheelchair one.

Still to come; our review of film and possibly even news, if we can muster ourselves to watch it. For more of Bob's ball achingly funny (my balls ache) blogs, click here. Or don't. But you'll never know how Friends should have ended and you'll never know true love.

Euan Drank Toilet Water

At Jess' birthday party the other day, Euan did a shot of toilet water.

He said he couldn't find a big enough shot glass.
It wasn't even a dare

And he fucking loved it.

'John Simons' - Part 3

John awoke to the sound of renovation. It was a noise he was used to, but hadn't heard in too long. His dad was always decorating their house and he could tell from the hammering alone that it was him downstairs.

He stood up and yawned. He felt so lethargic. The kind of lethargy you get from only being awake for 13 hours in the last year. He was excited to see his dad again, but was annoyed that nobody had been there when he woke up in the hospital.

He crept down the stairs, so as to not shock his dad too much. Half way down the stairs, the hammering stopped. He ran down the remaining stairs, half expecting his dad to have already seen him coming. What he hadn't expected is the room he saw when he got there.

The hallway had been decorated. It might not have been as nice as it once had been, but compared to the piss stained walls of the day before, it was palatial. There was a note on the hallway table;

"Gone out for more nails. Hope John's feeling better today. If you're up to it, why not paint the gate today? x"

He could tell it was his father from the handwriting. It was childlike, but still neater than his own. Maybe painting the gate wasn't a bad idea.

'John Simons' - Part 2

He’d tell people that it was the musky smell that hit him first when he stepped into his hallway, but he wasn’t sure if the smell of the cobweb had won the race to welcome him home. It wasn’t a particularly bad smell, but it wasn’t one that he’d missed in the hospital. It was the smell of a house that hadn’t been occupied by anybody with more than the clothes they are sleeping in. It was a nice contrast to the smell of antiseptic.

As he wiped the cobweb from his face and got some in his mouth, he saw that his house was as good as empty. Kitchen? Empty. Livingroom? Empty. Bathroom? Empty, but still a bathroom, because of the bath. It would seem that after trying to steal the cast-iron bath, the robbers had realised it was too heavy, so had turned it upside down in protest.

Only one more room to check and it was his. He walked in nonchalantly, like a teenager who had just discovered women. Like all teenage boys trying to impress women, though, he froze when he saw the room. Cupboard? Full. Lamp? On. Bed? Made. His room was in the same state as it had been when he left it over a year ago. If anything, it was cleaner. Every line bisected every other line perfectly. Such uniformity.

There was one less than subtle difference in the corner of his room and it was aimed at the sky.

'John Simons' - Part 1

John Simons was not an ordinary little boy; both of his names were first names, for example. It was not only his unfortunate name that made little Johnny so special; he had his unfortunate accident to thank for that, too.

After one year and seventeen hours spent comatose in intensive care, John Simons finally stood up. Some people said that it was just his time to wake, but such miracles don't happen every day. Johnny knew why he had stood up and had the glint of purpose in his eyes to prove it.

He was a quiet boy. He had to be, he'd been asleep for very slightly over a year. His thoughts, plans and schemes couldn't be stopped by a bout of drowsiness, though. He was up and about and knew what he had to do.

"The billboards are different" he said to himself.
"Different from what?" said the taxi driver.
"nothing"

If the billboards were too much for him, his front door almost had him in tears. He'd painted the door green with his Mum when he was a child, so that it was different from every other black door in an act of rebellion against the neighbourhood watch. He'd always been curious of the neighbourhood watch.

When he was eleven the neighbourhood watch had a vote to decide whether or not he could keep his telescope aimed out of his window or not. Some of his nosey neighbours had complained that they'd been watching and saw him looking out of his window at nights. As a passive pre-teen, he hadn't contested the decision that he could no longer look at the sky. Ironically he'd only been looking at the sky, so that he could forget about the curtain twitching backdrop to his life. He could feel their eyes on him now and could hear the buzzing of the phone lines, that meant they would all know he was home within the next five minutes.

As he walked through the squeaky gate up to the now black front door and put his hand on the door knob, he couldn't possibly have imagined how much of his life inside was gone.

Iain MacKinnon

Euan and I did something last night that we said we never would. I feel really really guilty. Usually I have to pressure him into stuff like this. Well, never did this, I must admit. He got really sweaty and nervous. He blushed a little bit and I had to brush the hair from his eyes. It was beautiful, but I regret it now and I'm sure he does, too. I guess you're wondering what we did. Well, I'll tell you.

Euan and I (me and Euan) agreed on something. That something came in the form of a six foot lizoidian friend of ours, called Iain MacKinnon. We both thought that lizoidians were immune to the effects of gin and lemonade, but obviously not. Our friend Iain MacKinnon was drunker than anyone we've ever seen before. He was swearing, shouting and doing online quizs faster and more drunkenly than when the Hoff and KIT won that pub quiz. It was horrific. I wish I could arrange this blog in an ordered fashion, but every time I start to, I get a flashback and need to use the toilet (in my pants).

To compare it to somebody else we saw drunk last night; our flatmate Liam banged on the door and did the buzzer for about 5 minutes at half three this morning, trying to get in from a night out. He was wasted and just giggled when we asked him what was up. Euan said he was angry, but didn't care because he was laughing so much. I'm not saying he did, but he may have had sick down his front and may not have been able to explain where he'd been since the clubs closed an hour before and EVEN AT THAT, he was more sober than Iain.

In the end, at about half one, when Iain had scared the majority of his flatmates out of the living room (one of them has even moved back to Manchester), Euan and I left the flat. As we left we heard gentle screaming in the background and felt ashamed that we let this happen.

Now he's got a hangover and I just feel guilty that I didn't stop him. Euan feels guilty, too, but he's showing it in his own way (wanking and crying).

The Kingdom of Why?

So I've recently discovered the stats section of my blogger account and it's driving me crazy. Not crazy as in "I want to strip naked and wear a trifle as pants", but crazy as in "I can't stop checking which blogs have the most views.

It started the other day while speaking to Bob. He mentioned something about his most read blogs and how he couldn't work out why those ones were the most popular. I decided to check what mine were and now the answer is running through my head like Mickey Mouse on a steamboat (quite a fitting simile). More people have read my blog about The Kingdom of Hearts than any other blog. I really don't know why. There could be a few explanations;

1) Everyone has played this game and wants to defend it from my unstoppable tirade.
2) People are thinking about buying the game and want my opinion.
3) I advertised it better than other blogs (I didn't)
4) People love Disney so much they just wanted to see the pictures of Michael Mouse.
5) People enjoyed the pictures.

If 1 is the right answer, then why are the only two comments on it, defending my position in a weird way. It doesn't make any sense at all. I was more flippant and stupid than ever before and people all read it and agreed with me.

If 2 is the right answer, then why? really... why? My opinion about games is limited and shallow at best.

If 3 is the right answer, then why can I not remember advertising it any better? Why would I advertise it any differently from my usual post on euan's wall, post on the Euania group and - if I'm really proud of it - post as my status? I don't think I did, but I may have.

If 4 is the right answer, then I'm sure googling Mickey Mouse is going to show you millions of pictures you want to see and just as many pictures that you don't want to see.

If 5 is the right answer - which I think it may be - then you're all idiots and I can just put a different picture on every blog, that represents the theme and it will increase views. I'm going to start it with this blog and see if it helps. If it does, it takes away from the quality (be it good or utter detritus) of my writing and if it doesn't, I still feel quite secure about what I'm doing with my life.

Before I forget, Euan wants me to thank everyone who read his wee blog entry the other day. He showed it to his uncle in a Skype call yesterday afternoon and I think they both had a wee cry at the memory. Quite a nice thing anyway. I told him that he can't just say that was his Christmas present to his uncle, but he disagrees. He says it's the thought that counts and I guess that's right. Not true in every situation though. If the people who lived in the village next to Auschwitz used that as an excuse, they'd have got in a fair bit of trouble - which they did anyway... silly moos.

Cafe Musings Special (by Euan)

This was written by Euan, so give the wee brat a chance.

I like cafes. I always have. I also like that Paul's phone changed cafes to cages. It says a lot about him and nothing about me.

There's cheesy Christmas music on. It reminds me of when we used to go to Christmas at my uncles house. He lives in Aberdeen and he's the reason I am so obsessed with the place. It was always so cheery and the whole family would get up and dance, like at the end of home alone, except I hadn't just assaulted some strangers who were trying to Maddie McCann me.

I love Aberdeen so much that I had to make sure at least half of the people I lived with when I moved out were from there. We could have great chats about Aberdeen and my uncle, even
Although they never met him. I always thought it was funny that they'd never met him because he's a pretty swell guy and doesn't afraid of everything. He once stamped on a spider that was trying to attack me. He's so brave.

I had a dream the other night that me and Paul were playing a board game. It wasn't a real game, like 'Tip The Balance' from Waddingtons or 'Monopoly' from Mr Monopoly, it was just a game that my dream made up. Pretty much, I had to stop Paul biting things. In a lot of ways, it was a board game of my life and that's why I love cafes.

I know this isn't wrapped up as neatly as Paul's blogs, so I'll end with my catchphrase. All women enjoy a squashed toffee.

Brilliant. Well done wee man. Let's all congratulate him on his wall!

Bus Musings 7

If there's one thing more important than my political views when deciding what side if the bus to sit on, it's my OCD. I just got on the bus and there were two fellow socialists on the left side of the bus, so I sat on the right, just in case things kicked off and there needed to be a nazi around for a balanced argument.

Everyone just got off (not in a sexy way) and I'm the only one on the bus now. There's no way they knew what I was writing, but I still wonder why they'd get on in town and get off two minutes later, still in town. What lazy people.

They're either lazy, or my childhood nightmare is true. Perhaps I am living in my own version of The Truman Show. Maybe I'm the main character and people watch me 24 hours a day, or maybe I shouldn't have started worrying about this at age 10 after seeing the film.

I sometimes like to imagine that Euan is the main character in a reality show, which is his life, but then I realise how boring his life really is. How many people want to see him wanking and crying over Disney all day? I know there's more to Euan's life, but in the same way that I know there's more to Atlantis, I've never seen any proof.

All's Quiet On The Euan Menzies Front

So, all is quiet on the Euan Menzies front at the moment. I've heard a lot of complaints, like "Paul, you're too funny", "you make my sides literally split and my doctor refuses to stitch them up again" and "there's not been enough updates recently, on the show or the blog". Well, I can certainly buy you some stitches (I wont) and explain why the updates have been few and far between.

There are great things to come. There really are great things in the works. We've all seen the preview made for the Euan Menzies Show, series two and that was only the start. Bob threw that together in a few hours and I wasn't even aware of it. Now take that and multiply the hilarity by itself. You've almost started to imagine how good our new stuff is going to be. It's not very Euan heavy at all, but it's still amazing.

We've had weekly meetings, daily discussions and we even have an ever-evolving dropbox of ideas. Our new work is going to be in super HD quality and even has producers (depending on how well our Monday meeting goes). I'll get an advert knocked together soon. Be prepared, because it's going to be epic.

And a wee treat for the Euan fans;

Euan is scared of aerosol cans. When he was in 3rd year of school, a boy came up to him on the bus and sprayed deodorant in his eyes. He's never got over it, and right so, but that does not justify what he does to make himself feel better about it.
The other day I came into Euan's room and I thought he had gone mental (again). He had a metal bin in his room with a fire in it (like a student at a fucking riot (he kind of was a student at a riot, except for the fact that he's a computing student (not a real student))). He was shouting "why mummy why???" and throwing the aerosols cans into the fire. One tear falling each time a can exploded.
It was such a sad thing to watch, that I sat down beside him and cried with him, as our flat started to burn.


Read Bob's Blog and watch our preview to the Euan Menzies Show.

Bus Musings 6

I just realised that I always sit on the left side of the bus. I don't know if it's because thats the way my political views lean, or because only my left headphone works, so I have an open right ear to eavesdrop with. I don't know why.

I do however know of Euan's political views. What there is of them anyway. The only thing Euan has ever said that could be construed as quasi-political is that 'there aren't enough riots anymore'. This was a few months ago and look what's happened now. I think I'm going to get him to say I'm not paid enough and see what happens in a few months time. Probably nothing, cause he is a bit rubbish.

Not as rubbish a some people we know though. We have a mutual acquaintance who is the most boring person you'll ever meet. I won't say who it is, but God they're boring (write this one down for St Peter, big G). They blend into surrounding life. If they were a sea creature they'd be plankton - except for the fact that plankton is probably the most important part of the sealife food chain. I would describe this person as beige, but there's a time and a place for beige (such as middle aged life). They are more like the off-white that school corridor walls go by the end of the year.

Don't get me wrong; they are not a bad person in the slightest. If you were in trouble, they'd be there to lend a boring right ear, but I doubt you'd want them to.

This was not meant to be an attack on anybody at all, but it seems to have turned that way. It's not as weird as how little Euan changed after his op, but still weird.

Off to work.

Monopoly

Me and Euan played Monopoly the other night. That's not a dirty sex position like you're thinking, it's a board game. It was a special version, because it was Star Wars Monopoly (the good star wars, not the three newest ones).

The game started well. Euan kept saying he was winning, because he had the most money. I don't want to make him feel bad with this blog, but Liam was playing and doing better. I say Liam was playing; Liam was playing the wii and occasionally rolling dice. Liam never bought any properties, but he had thousands and thousands of republic credits. We still don't know why, but it was terrifying.

So anyway, picture it. Liam isn't watching what he is doing and Euan is still losing. After about an hour, Dave started sneaking money into Euan's pile (not really a pile) and I stopped charging him when he landed on all of my properties. Basically, he was just rolling a dice and walking round the board. He started playing his PSP and we got annoyed at him, so he put it away. He sat with his arms crossed, getting money handed to him for nothing. He was in debt, upset and wanting to quit, but we wouldn't let him. It was the best day ever.

To make it better, I was Darth Vader and had a total and utter galactic takeover. I was amazing and he was crying and writing poetry. Perfect.

Bus Musings 5

So the bus is really busy. I think it's because the weather is so bad, but the guy behind me is convinced it's because "so many people missed the bus when it was cancelled, so they're using it now". Maybe he's right, or maybe he's a spastic...we'll never know.

Jack Black and Meatloaf's love child just got on the bus. This is a big day for humanity. We all knew he existed, but seeing him in person is a big achievement. Especially in Dundee on the 17 of a Sunday morning. I'd ask for a photo, but he'd give me a witty remark or burst into an epic ballad. I'm quite tempted now.

A semi attractive girl just got on the bus; she looks so out of place with the rest of us.

A junkie just ran in front of the bus at a red light. He's shouting at the driver, because 'he's been chasing the bus for five minutes'. I know he's lying, because I've only been on the bus for four minutes and never saw him running. I also know he's lying because of his junkie face. You know what I mean. He even has the hair cut. I wonder where junkies get their hair done. Do they just ask for the 'ravished by heroin' look, or does it come naturally? Again, we'll never know.

On the subject of not knowing, I think somebody should tell the appropriately haired junkie where he is. I like that they have a uniform.

Deep Vein Thrombosis

So the twin towers? What a bummer aye? (political)

Nobody ever thinks about the good points of 11/9. Since 11/9, nobody has ever complained about deep vein thrombosis. It used to be the main problem on flights, but not anymore. Euan still considers it a problem, so starts wearing tights like two weeks before he flies anywhere. Not because it helps him in anyway, he just likes the feel.

On the subject of 11/9, I was in the hospital the other day with my Auntie Amanda and I saw a picture that Euan had painted. I know he painted it because it had his name on it. It was only after I left the hospital that my Dad text me saying; "look at the date on Euan's picture". I looked at the date and was instantly angry.

On the day of the biggest terrorist attack in recent American history (at least their tubes were still running. 7/7, now that was a real terrorist attack.) Euan was at home provoking the Muslims by repainting beautiful Christian artwork. I really don't know why he would do that. He was just asking for it, wasn't he? If it wasn't for him, the twelve people who died in 11/9 would still be here.

Let's all post "what a racist" on his facebook. I think it's apt.

The Other Euan

In some circles Euan is known as Euan 1, but I've promised not to mention it to anybody or ever make him feel awkward for it... aye Euan?

Here is the real Euan Menzies.

I know what you're all thinking; "This is weird and leaves only two possible conclusions". Well, I think you're right. Euan is either;

A) leading a double life in which he absolutely loves Basshunter and calling people "m8"
or
2) Somebody is impersonating Euan and using his credentials to get free food in bars.

I have a big problem with either conclusion. Conclusion 1 because Euan rarely has any time when I'm not following him and taking notes. If he was leading a double life, then he's doing a terrible job. He must only be doing it between 2 and 8 on a Saturday and 10 and 7 on a Sunday (when I work and leave him alone (except for hourly phone calls)). If he is doing this, he's lazy and I think we should boycott him.

And conclusion B, because I haven't got any free meals from Euan's fame. I dragged him into the limelight kicking and screaming and haven't got any recognition for it at all. If somebody else is out there pretending to be Euan (as if they'd want to (as if they'd have the boyish, hairless face)) then I at least want them to be an advert for Euan's show. I bet they're doing fuck all though. I work my ass off spamming facebook and sneaking hyperlinks into blogs every day and this FAKE EUAN BASTARD is stealing all my free food. And unlike the real Euan, I can't even steal any of his food, because he's doing it behind my back.

I'm getting annoyed at both Euan's now. I need to stop writing. I'm genuinely fuming.

Paramore

This is really sad, so don't laugh at Euan, even though he's a little prick.

I went into Euan's (room) last night and he was sitting on his bed and crying. I felt really really bad, because I knew what was wrong instantly. I'd seen his milk out of date in the fridge and knew it would hit him hard. I didn't even want him to see it, so I put it in the bin before he could find its empty corpse of a carton. I even tried to take a sniff of it, but because I'm anosmic the smell of off milk was only a rumor.

As you've probably guessed (unless you're Euan (an idiot)), that wasn't the reason that Euan was crying. I asked him if he was okay and he just shoved his facebook in my face (Euan actually has a face book. Every night he goes onto the website and enters every single post that his friends (131 in total) write into this face book. He says it's just so that he can look back and see what's been happening. I've showed him the "previous posts" button, but he doesn't give a fuck). After a few seconds of me laughing at his lack of notifications, he pointed at one post in particular;

"Paramore was amazing!"

I couldn't believe that I'd forgotten. Euan's favourite band in the world were playing in Glasgow and he couldn't get a ticket.

If you don't believe me that he loves them, just check out this picture of his bedroom wall (>>>). It's not even one poster, it's lots of little posters put together to make a big poster. It took him weeks to make. Most students these days have cool posters on there walls (not really. They're nearly always posters of Pulp Fiction or Fight Club, but who's keeping tabs), but Euan's not afraid for people to know he's a little twonk.

As I left Euan's room, I heard him gently singing "Brick by Broken Brick" and it brought a tear to my eye and unlike Euan, I didn't use it as lube.

What Euan Thinks Of Women

Me and Euan are just back from Tesco and had a wonderful chat on our way back. He said that God might punish him one day for being sexist, so to make up for it, he might as well be as sexist as possible.

He imagined waking up and being a woman and these are just some of the things he'd walk about saying;

- What's dropping faster, my tits or my IQ?
- HAHAHA, I'm bleeding from my fanny again... THAT'S WHAT I SAID!
- When I was fifteen I had an underage abortion.
- Sometimes I eat a whole pizza and then make myself sick.
- I like touching my boobs.
- I have an uncontrollable urge to dye myself orange!
- You're 38? Well I'm only 19 and I'm weirdly attracted to you because of my daddy issues... sex?
- I don't drink lager, cause it can give you chlamydia.
- I have Chlamydia!
- I wish I was a boy, so I could have a wank and nobody outside Boots would find it weird.

I can't remember the rest, because they were pretty sick, but yeah, welcome to some of Euan's thoughts on women.

Euan's Wii Party

2001 viewers, I'm fucking loving it. Euan is indifferent, but thank you to the seven or eight people who've been following his life for so long.

So, Euan's wii (wee) party.

About a month ago, Euan invited everyone he knows (all fourteen of them) to our flat to play a game on the wii. The event was quite successful. He set it up as a competition so that people had a real reason to come and the night was a good laugh. Sadly, the night was marred by the theme; something which we can't change now.

Euan invited this gang of renegades (I know I wrote that, but they are neither a gang, nor renegades. I felt left out, because I'm not a computing student... I hope that gives you a general idea of the night) around to play a game of Super Smash Brothers Brawl. This game is a Nintendo game, where all of the Nintendo characters fight against each other to prove which one is the least useless. Generally speaking, Mario is shite, Kirby is awesome and all of the pokemon characters are in between.

I don't want to slag the night off, because I came third out of fourteen people (students), but genuinely the night was weird. If it wasn't for people wanting to check email or play minecraft, you'd think it was an actual party. There were even some people smoking 'student cigarettes'; which I fully condone and enjoy.

If anybody came here expecting me to slag Euan off, I can imagine that you're pretty disappointed so far. Well, don't worry, because Euan has said a few things recently that give me reason to start writing. Here they are.

Euan went out tonight with the soul goal of finding a girlfriend. Not even a girl he's dated before and can guilt trip into another year of Hell; a new girl. He told me and Jess tonight that he wants to double date and that if he doesn't find anybody new by the 18th of November, he'd kill himself. Admittedly, he might already be dead, but here's hoping not.

He told me and Jess (a reliable witness (she's English. When have they ever been unreliable and gone about killing us Scots indiscriminately)) that if he doesn't find a girl and can't muster up the Cahones (testicles) to end it all, that he's going to have a baby with me. Science (bless you) has recently made it possible to take two male sperms (as opposed to female sperms) and create a human from it. Euan has decided that he wants a child which is half mine and half his. He says if it comes out as a girl, he'd kill it, but hey ho, let's hope it's a boy.

Anyway, he's as gimp as ever, so nothing's changed. If you have any questions about him, just ask, or comment "?" on his facebook wall. He's told me recently, that he loves it when we do that.

ps; he appeared in a wee film recently. Enjoy!

Bus Musings 4

So town is mental today. I don't know how many people have banged into me. It reminds me of when I was 15 and came into town every single weekend, even though it's shite. We just loitered and occasionally got drunk. Although town reminds me of that today, I can't ever remember seeing it this busy before. Maybe I'm too used to living in town and seeing it empty when I walk to Tesco at midnight. I don't know.

So much for ginger hair being a recessive gene. Every third person I see today is ginger. I know it's unlikely that there are more of them these days, it's just that they're more cocky now. When I was little, if you were ginger, you kept your head down. The gingers I've seen today are going schizo. One of them jumped a barrier at red lights for no reason and another was shouting across boots corner at his friend. He never even got shat on by a pigeon, which was most annoying. Seriously gingers, learn to keep a low profile, or at least don't moan about being bullied.

The bus is 15 minutes late, so fuck musing on it. I'm too angry with it. Welcome to "standing outside the early learning centre musings 1" - not as catchy.

Aggressive Nakedness

So The Euan Menzies Show is back up and running. I'm writing it with Daniel 'Bob' Taylor now and the quality has drastically improved. I also think I could happily retire now, knowing that when my flatmate Liam first saw it he cried with laughter.

Some people will not get it and will call us pretentious artists, but I like to think we're more autuers than artists.

Here's out first video in "season 2" of The Euan Menzies Show, it's called Aggressive Nakedness, and you'll find out why in the next minute and 40 seconds :P

Anyway, prepare for a lot more Euan Menzies' vlogs and films from now on. Writing this blog pushed them to the side for a while, but they'll be back and better than ever.

Euan fact of the day; Euan has never worn odd socks.

Dicing With Death

Euan has been risking live, limb and incarceration today, for no reason at all.

Firstly, he called the late, great Ruari Waugh "Waughbag Bawbag" and is now just waiting to have his face punched right off of his head.

Secondly, he started saying on Facebook chat that, in the style of Harold Shipman, he has killed a few old woman. Worse than Harold Shipman is his aftercare service; he sneaks back into the dead womens' houses and cleans up and leaves Werther's Original wrappers everywhere, to make it look like they're still alive.

Thirdly, as if this wasn't enough ridiculous behaviour for one day, he's also written another letter to the council. Here it is;

Dear Council,

It’s me again? Remember me? My son’s ill and is not dead yet!
I know you’ll probably think this is a complaint, but don’t pre-empt me, because this is actually more than a complaint, because little Fraser almost died (and not from his cancer)!

I was in your council hospital recently with Fraser, because of his illness. The council who was dressed as a not-slutty nurse said she needed to change his drip, so I let her. As soon as it was changed, she said I had to pay for it. I was so annoyed at the this idiot council that I pulled Fraser’s drip out and replaced it with the Capri Sun that he was drinking. The council in not-slutty fancy dress told me that it would kill him and then I laughed and said that was the least of Fraser’s worries, because he is going to Hell for being ‘damaged goods’.

Anywhere, could you please tell me where your council workers get the idea that they know my son’s condition better than me? I’d also like some free drip medication (not for Fraser, I have a headache) and could you wash my clothes? When I pulled the drip out of Fraser, it sprayed chemotherapy all over my shoes and this is unacceptable.

Love,
Mrs Fraser
(Euan Menzies)


What can I say? He is an idiot, but we love him.

Another Amazing Excerpt from Bob.

Sherlock and Watson. Batman and Robin. Cheese and Ham. Euan and Paul Their story is almost impossible to tell, but I, Daniel "Bob" Taylor, will try. Many have tried to pen this epic biography, many have failed. Using my unique insight into their passage through history, I hereby present the second excerpt from my upcoming tome "Euan and Paul: Love and Hate". If you hark back to chapter 5, we last left the seemingly immortal duo in the aftermath of the Vietnam War. Here we will venture slightly farther back in time to an event not unlike the big bang - The meeting of Euan and Paul.

Taken from Chapter 1 - Two Become One

Saqquara, Ancient Egypt, 132 BC

Paul cracked the whip, the leather snapping wickedly in the unbearable desert sun. I stared on, helpless. I daren't disapprove of what I saw here, but I was The Pharaoh's right hand man. I had to say something.
"Paul" I called quietly "May I have a word?"
He rounded on me, his eyes glinting with an immortal fire, his golden headwear reflecting his glorious rage. He was stinking drunk on power, and it was my duty to sober him up.
"What!?" he sneered. I took a breath, and whispered, so the guards couldn't hear our disagreement.
"Pharaoh, you are needlessly mistreating the slaves. Will this really make them work harder?"
He looked at me, and tilted his head quizzically. Dripping with contempt and sarcasm, he asked,
"Remind me Daniel, who's Pharaoh? I might be wrong, but I could have sworn to the gods that it was me. But that couldn't be right, could it?"
I bowed my head, sighing.
"I'm sorry Pharaoh". I bit my tongue. Trouble was going to come of this, but I had tried.

That trouble came in the form of a slave, but a slave like no other. As he steadily and purposefully climbed the many stairs to Pharaoh Pauls throne, I sensed danger. It was like the sun rising, a great light shining down and dispelling the shadows of Paul's existence. Somewhere a crow called thrice, and the ground cracked. The slave finally reached Pharaoh's throne room, and stood tall. He wasn't a remarkable man, but carried himself with the presence of a giant, as if he was sent here by a higher power. As the world turned, and Pharaoh's gaze met this slave's piercing eyes, there was silence. Time stopped, as if the cosmos itself was holding its breath. He spoke.

"Pharaoh, I come to represent the slaves, and all that is good in the world. I have an ultimatum for you, and all the evil of the world that you represent. My name, is Euan"

Lightning flashed in the distance, despite it being a bright sunny day. It was as if at this moment, time itself knew that it was about to be written in stone. Yin and yang, good and evil, dark and light, had met at last. The unstoppable force was staring at the unmovable object, and Paul was speechless.

Myself and the guards were on the edge of our stone seats. The Pharaoh was wearing a look on his face that we had never seen. It seemed like...fear. No not fear, more like a dawning realization, like a man finding his reflection. He found his voice.
"Pray tell, slave Euan", he spoke "What is your ultimatum?"

Euan drew breath as a messiah would summon the power of the heavens. and pointed his finger at Pharaoh, like a lightning bolt of justice. His voice boomed across the land, shaking birds from the trees.
"PHARAOH!" he roared, pausing for dramatic effect, "LET MY PEOPLE GO!"

We looked back at Paul, awaiting his response with bated breath. No-one spoke like that to the Pharaoh.
He was smiling. He stood, without a word, and stared inexplicably at the sky. He started mumbling a series of words none of us understood, and before our eyes he transformed, growing many feet above us. As we stood back in terror, Euan nodded, as if resigned to this, and muttered his own spell. They both grew at a tremendous rate, until they were towering over the work camp, like fabled monsters, giant versions of themselves. They dwarfed the unfinished pyramid, the desert cracking beneath their feet, their footsteps shaking the continents. We were like ants to them. As Euan bowed to Paul in preparation of the battle, high above us, the Pharaoh lowered himself into a battle crouch, screaming fire. They clashed, and the world shook.

* * *

I looked around, at the smoking craters of what had once been the flat Egyptian desert. There was no living being, no living thing, for miles around. They had shifted continents. I walked through the broken landscape, until I came upon two figures, close together, huddled in a gigantic crater. The moon could have sat comfortably inside. In the hours it took me to make my way down to the bottom, I sensed I was nearing the centre of the earth itself. Maybe I was. As I finally stood before the two, I realised that it was Euan and Paul themselves, returned to their normal form. Covered in the grime and stench of a two man near-apocalypse, they were nestled in each others arms. I stared, dumbfounded. Paul blinked his eyes open, looking over at Euan, exhausted. Euan peered back at him.
"I have a strange feeling that we are destined to do this forever, you and I" Paul spoke. He was no Pharaoh anymore. Euan nodded slowly, relieved.
"Friends?" he asked tentatively. Paul nodded, a rare genuine smile breaking across his face.
"Friends"
To do the moment justice, I silently started masturbating. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Chapter 1

My shout pierced through the screams from bullets drilling through the air beside my head. I couldn’t believe that he’d gone over the top. He was such a pacifist. What could have compelled him to such madness? Perhaps it was just that; madness.

When Niall hadn’t turned up for role call that morning, his suppressed emotions had almost boiled over. Why did it take staring into the face of Death for Euan to emote?

I listened as if I’d never listened before and knew that Euan would find it ironic. He never thought that I listened or cared, but I knew more about Final Fantasy Seven and love eggs that I cared to remember.

Through the screaming and silence I heard him. From much experience I knew he’d fallen, but it wasn’t his clumsiness this time, it was much worse.

After a second of doubt and a minute of adjusting my hat, I went over the top. I saw him. I ran. I jumped. I landed on him.

“I wont leave you” I said through tears.
“just go” he said, braver than I’d ever seen him before.
“you’re going to be fine”
“I know, because we’re together”

His showing of emotions was more than I could take. I kissed him passionately and felt every individual bump on his tongue.

BOOM!

We were never seen again; until role call the next day – where our story begins.

Euan's Work

Euan's work is dead, according to Euan. In commemoration, I'm wearing a poppy. Everyone else on the street seems to be doing same.

Let's show our support by giving him words of support on his facebook wall.

Poor Euan!

Pig Trotters

Best day ever. Some people have said that I am in love with control; and to be honest I have no evidence for the contrary. I like to be in charge of when Euan sleeps, by making a lot of noise. I like to be in charge of when Euan has sex by telling women he likes that he has diseases and for the first time ever, I have experienced the joy of controlling what he eats.

We had a dinner party at Jess' flat the other day. After much deliberation, me and Jess' mum decided to cook Chinese food. I'm not great at cooking Chinese food, so it was a good experience for life.

The best idea I've ever had was in the Chinese supermarket. I decided that it would be funny to cook Euan and Iain something that they've never had before. When I saw the pigs trotters, I truly realised my dream. I bought the trotters (£1.82 for 4!) and boiled them in stock for 4 hours. The meat all fell off of the bone (as well as the cartilage and the ming) and then I fed it to Euan and Iain. Iain enjoyed it, of course, and Euan really liked it until I got the last uncooked trotter out and tried to make him and Iain lick it.

Usually here I would make something up along the lines of;

So Euan had pig trotter and he says it's now his favourite food. He has written a shopping list and is going to buy 10 trotters tomorrow. I told him that they only come in packs on 4, so he says he'll buy 3 packs (12 feet) and throw two away. Euan hates things when they're not in multiples of ten. At night he has to turn his light on and off ten times, or he can't sleep. On the subject of sleeping, Euan counts pigs instead of sheep at night and none of the pigs have feet; what a pervert. I bet he masturbates to sleep imagining the pigs feet running around in his tummy.

; but I wont this time, because the truth is far more funny. I made Euan eat pigs feet and I've never been happier.

ps; be careful around Iain; we're worried he might have mad horse disease now.

I hate Movember.

So November is here and unlike every other year, it’s not just the puntualoty of Christmas decorations that people are talking about. Yes they are up too early; but they have been up pretty early for as long as I can remember, so why the moaning?

The term “Christmas is getting earlier” pisses me off more than anything. Honestly, it’s not. It’s been on the 25th of December for about 2010 years now, so fucking deal with it.

Anyway. This post is about the latest phenomenon that’s annoying me; Movember;

“oh, let’s all grow moustaches for charity”

HOW IS IT FOR CHARITY? I’ve seen a lot of people’s pathetic excuse for a bit of lipmuff (the new official term) and out of them, only one has set up a JustGiving account; only one of them is doing it for charity. The rest of us – and I include myself – are doing it for ourselves. I want to see if I can grow a moustache. I’m not saying it’s for Movember, because it’s for me.

After four days of attempted facial hair, I’m doing very well. I have a moustache and know I can’t grow a beard. There is something that is disturbing me, though.

Why is having a moustache and a dirty (pathetically patchy and hairless) face different from just a moustache? I’m struggling to shave the rest off. If I just leave it the way it is, I can pretend I’ve just forgotten to shave; like most of the time.

By shaving off the ‘beard’ I’m admitting that I’ve given into this vain masculinity contest and that some people are better at looking like they’re from the 40s than me, because that’s what we all look like; men from the past… and the past isn’t a good place: remember the plague? I do. Horrible ordeal.

Blossoming Love

One of my favourite moments with Euan. He loves it, too, as you can see!

Ginger Toddler

So, Euan has done it again. Not only has he insulted somebody in broad day light, but he's made a toddler cry, run away and almost get run over. I've told him before; if he wants to insult people, wait until it's dark, follow them up alleyways and shout abuse at them while waving his willy, but does he listen? Does he fuck. He just saunters up to people in the Overgate, arrogant as the day he was born and abuses them. Well I've had enough.

Anyway...here is the latest episode in Euan's abusive life.

Euan and I were walking up the escalator beside new look in the Overgate (I know what you're thinking already. Who walks up escalators? Well, there's your answer - Euan does. He has that thing that those fainting goats/cats have (i.e. he faints a lot when he stands still). We got to the top of the moving stairs and he started to run towards this poor teenager mother (slag) and her ginger child. He walked right up and picked the child out the pram. The woman was screaming a lot, but he calmed her down. Then he shouted “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS BABY?”. The woman was terrified and the baby even more so.
“pardon?” she politely answered
“Have you been making this baby run a marathon?” he said slightly more calmly.
“No…”
“THEN WHY IS IT SO RED IN THE HAIR? HAAAAAAAAA” then he dropped the baby and ran away. I’ve not seen him since, so if you see him just tell him he’s a naughty boy.

He’ll probably pretend he’s forgotten about it or that it didn’t happen, so I say we post “ginger toddler” on his facebook page.

Love Paul (your real Mum)!

Bus Musings 3

It's a female bus driver, so this bus musings might forget to stop at red lights, be a bit sporadic and have occasional PMS.

A disabled polish person just got on the bus. He looks like a normal downs syndrome, except he has a more pronounced brow. I have to change subject, because he's looking at me and most of the guys in the UFC are proof that I couldn't beat him.

The little boys at the back of the bus, beside me, think they are from Long Beach. They are playing their tinny music from their Sony erricsons and it's shite.

I've taken to sitting at the back of the bus. Even if there are already 4 youths siting there, I'll join them. I don't know what it is, maybe I look a bit older now, but they never say anything. They're usually quiet when a weird, slightly older person sits next to them, especially when there's nobody else on the bus.

I remember about 4 years ago I was on the bus with Iain. A family got on and they had a big bag of coke with them. Not the sugary treat, but the devil's dandruff. The mum had it in a carrier bag in her lap and the daughter tried to dip her finger in it. The mum said "not afore yuv had yer tea" and she stopped. Then (the scary bit) she turned to me and Iain and started asking why he looked like a girl. Then they decided we were gay together and started asking us questions about bumming. Iain answered them all and I stared out of the window. I genuinely thought we were going to die. The dad was trying to be nice and kept saying 'leave the queers alone, hun' - he was the scariest of all.

My new friends at the back just got off. One of them kicked my bag by accident and apologised as if I had a knife. Weird.

Off to work.

"Wanna come and see a film?" ; "Only if it's in 2D. If it's in 3D, you can FLECK OFF" (Featuring Bob)

Twenty-four moons ago, I started this blog so I could pester Euan. After about two days, I thought it was a way I could try and make Euan famous and embarrass him. In the end, this has just been general news (all true) about Euan's life. So yeah, it hasn't changed much.
Today though people, in the way that Barack Obama couldn't, I am bringing you change. My dearest friend Bob and I have written a collaboration blog, because both of us think we're equally funny. We also both hate 3D and that is the subject of this post (see what I did there? clever aye? I pure love me). I hope you enjoy this (and if you don't stop reading, as it doesn't once mention nazis and Hitler (the stuff you like)). If you do enjoy it, why not gander over to Bob's blog and keep sniggering at our unstoppable idiocy. Thank you.

Bob

You've seen it on posters. You've seen it in the cinemas. You can see it in shops, on TVs, in pubs. You can see it in your children's eyes. I am talking of course, about the latest flashy fad to spew it's shiny processed guts over every movie.
I'm talking of course, about 3D.
Every decade has had it's gimmick to keep cinema goers happy; the 80's had montages (and briefly, 3D), the 90's had cheap CGI (and computer hackers. every 90's movie had a hacker in it somewhere), the 00's had better CGI, and now in 2010, we have 3D. Just like all these other fad's, 3D will become overused until we get bored of it. Why? Because cinema audiences are stupid and easily amused, and filmmakers are lazy. Why bother with decent plot structure, acting, character depth, or any sense of realism when you can instead distract the audience with a 3D super slow-motion explosion?

Myself

If normal explosions weren't good enough, it won't be long until spunky explosions in porn are also shot in 3D. I'm not sure if they've been made yet, if not they're definitely missing a messy treat. The reaction videos all over the world would be hilarious.
Boy falls asleep. Boys' friends put porn on 3D tele (which costs far too much for something originally designed in the 50s (it failed then, too)). Boy wakes up (I'm imagining drunk) to a muff lunging at his face. My favourite bit would be at the end, when he literally jumps behind the sofa, because he thinks he'll get spunked on. It'll be reminiscent of my mum hiding behind the sofa at the first ever showing of Dr Who, except nobody was waving a giant cock in her face and trying to spunk on her (eh grandad?).

Bob

Like an evil scientist resurrecting the dead for his own sexual purposes, 3D is now finding its way back through history, to re-release all your favourite movies. Back to the Future. In 3D! Star Wars. In 3D! Citizen Kane. In 3D! (one of these is a lie. I wished it was Star Wars). 3D is like a license to show repeats, an excuse to re-release some old movie the film company owns the rights to. Or in George Lucas' case, to squeeze some more money from the franchise.
And maybe even worse, sequels that should have never even been considered are now being released...in 3D! Who in their right mind would have made a Shrek 4? Oh but of course, if u add "3D" after the title, audiences will go see it anyway. It's like crack to these people. I'm positive that you could release a film just called "3D", and it would break all box office records. There is something very wrong with this craze, and what is even more terrifying is that I don't think I can understand it. And I've been trying, dammit.

Myself

I, on the other hand, think I've worked out why 3D is so successful at the moment. The average person is 5' 6", about ten stone, mixed sex and an idiot. To make it even worse, because the average person is stupid, it means that - by definition - 50% of people are more stupid than that.
Maybe you think we (the elite) are being elitist, but we're not at all. The argument for 3D is purely that "it's more immersive, aye?", but do films need to connect emotionally with their audiences any more than they already do? I cried watching Marley and Me; I'm not afraid to admit that. It didn't need to be in 3D for me to feel involved with the main characters. The main character didn't even need to be human and I still felt close to it and got the story on an emotional and immersive level.
In a world where everything has to be right in people's faces for idiots to understand, it makes sense for us to want to have films acted out around us, instead of in beautiful, conventional, 2D form. For the people who love 3D, let me introduce you to cinema's father; Theatre. It's really good, honest.

Bob

In case Paul didn't make it clear, that was a joke. theater was fine maybe before the Internet, but nowadays we have better ways to masturbate.
But I digress.
So what comes after 3D? when the cinema-going public eventually grow tired of this 3D trend, the film industry will fill the void with another flashy distraction. ultra HD? 4D? maybe even...better films? Because the sad truth is that Hollywood will always make films that give the public what they think they want. by this I mean that dumb, loud, flashy movies and phenomenons such as 3D will always be more popular and more likely to be made than intelligent well made films - just like the X-factor is more popular than The Sopranos, or how Big Brother was constantly renewed for countless seasons when Arrested Development was cancelled.

Myself

It's embarrassing that we live in a world in which we vote a 69 year old film (Citizen Kane) as the best film ever made. I am happy to admit it's an absolutely fantastic movie and one of my favourites, but it's still a sad indictment of our times that we have to look so far back for a movie that was truly amazing.
3D has brought us nothing and it never will. As Bob has just pointed out, maybe it's time to start making movies with a beautiful script, instead of trying to polish out a turd by slapping some 3D on it.

I just jokingly googled Avatar 2 and saw it's in pre-production. This world is a horrible place to live in. Perhaps our only salvation is for me and Bob to write a film - I just need to convince him his life and anus are 100% safe. And yeah, it's gonna be in 2D.

Fuck you James Cameron!

Excerpts from "Love and Hate"

This next bit is written by our dear friend, Bob (short for Daniel Taylor). I think it's hilarious. For more hilarity, read his blog here. It's great!

Euan and Paul. Paul and Euan. Two seemingly immortal beings, tied together by fate, and doomed to spend eternity balancing the equation of their lives. Their path through history together is a tale fit for a library of books, of which I, Daniel "Bob" Taylor, am writing. I have known both of them for years; I was their squadron leader back in 'Nam, their band manager in the 80's, their dealer near the end of the 20th century, and their psychologist numerous times (although neither knew the other was seeing me as a patient). This in depth and unique perspective I have on their intertwining lives, coupled with the blog debt I owe them, has driven me to write their story. I hereby present excerpts from my upcoming epic, "Paul and Euan - Love and Hate"

Taken from Chapter 5 - No Turning Back

Mekong river delta, Vietnam, 1968

I gazed across the burning jungle with ash on my uniform and lead in my heart, the cries of the Vietcong still loud enough in my ears to mask the sound of Private Menzies running up the path to my tent. He startled me, but you wouldn't know it to look at my bloodied and grimy face. War had stolen my ability to express feelings. Private Menzies was crying. I had never seen him cry. Not like this.
"What is it soldier?" I growled, trying to fathom what could break such a fine war machine.
"It's Paul, sir, he, he..." Private Menzies vomited onto the ground, unable to continue. Wiping his mouth, he simply pointed, shaking his trembling arm back at the village. The village where we were keeping the woman and children, waiting to be evacuated. I had left them in the care of Private McCallum.

The look in his eyes told me to run, to get to the village as fast as possible. I padded down the dirt road, three armed soldiers and Private Menzies in my wake. I slowed to a cautious trot. Before the village echoed of crying Vietnamese, now only silence. Not even the birds were calling. As we circled around the tents, I could hear someone singing...nursery rhymes? But it wasn't as a child would sing them, this sounded like a demon struggling to speak the king's English, his quiet garbling almost...joyful. I rounded the corner, and what I saw made me vomit onto the crimson-stained ground.

* * *

Fort Bragg, N. Carolina, U.S, 1969

Private McCallum stood upright, against the wooden post, blindfolded. He was still. The only sign he was conscious was the burning ember on the tip of his cigarette, glowing as he inhaled. I looked over the thirty man firing squad I had assembled. I'd had to limit it to thirty, the whole regiment had volunteered for the task. Sergeant Menzies stood silently by my side, his hand fingering his holstered weapon. I wished he wasn't here, but nothing on God's earth could prevent him from seeing this through. I unrolled the document in my hand, and read.

"Private Paul McCallum, 9th division, U.S Army. You have been charged and sentenced by a panel of your peers to death, for the most heinous crimes and atrocities known to man. Your death sentence will be carried out by firing squad. May God have mercy on your soul. Any last words?"
The silence was palpable, the cold field holding it's breath. His lips moved.
"Euan" he whispered.
Private Menzies looked at him. I was unable to tell what was going through his mind. He looked at me. I nodded. He moved closer, leaning in so Private McCallum could speak in his ear. We stood in silence as Menzies listened. A crow called in the distance.

He stood back, looking at the man tied to the wooden post, a questioning look of confusion and moral terror. He screamed, his shrill cry shattering the fragile silence, and pulled his gun from his holster. I stepped forward, knowing what was about to happen, but powerless to stop it. Private Menzies screamed and emptied his service revolver into McCallum's chest, clicking the trigger until it was dry. He fell to the ground in tears, defeated, as the firing squad muttered and walked away, disappointed. I walked forward and placed my hand on Euan's shoulder, staring at the corpse of the dead private.
He was smiling.

I nodded to the guard, and walked into the small cell, hidden deep in the Fort Bragg basement, away from watchful eyes. The noise of my footsteps caused the shadow in the corner to lean forward, and smiled up at me.
"You were charged with crimes unspeakable in the field of combat" I stated "You want to tell me about it?"
"Apparently I have an attitude problem" he smirked. I stared at him.
"Your sentence was carried out this morning when you were shot 12 times in the chest, while I watched. How did that feel?"
He grinned at me, the same grin he'd had on his face this morning, while hanging from the wooden post.
"It tickled"

Shameless Plug!

So me and Euan made a wee video, in which we discuss a few points raised in the blogs and argue it out (try to embarrass each other). He clearly wins and it's quite funny. Pop it on in the background while surfing the web and pretend we live in your head. I'd love to live in your head. Euan lived in mine for a few weeks for a dare; I guess that explains why he is a little bit off.

[CLICK]

Also, he has started making game reviews and funny videos from the games we play. Might be funny. Check it here.

My Dream

This post is about a dream I had. It's not from Euan in any way, and because it's a dream, I might have misremembered it. I just wanted to say that you all know it might not be 100% accurate, like the rest of my posts.

Anyway.

I woke up in a cold sweat last night. We had the heating on for a bit yesterday, so the flat was far too warm and then after sleeping naked without a duvet, it was cold. My body got confused and angry at me and I woke up. I'm only mentioning temperature, because it had nothing to do with the sweat I was in. The sweat was induced by the notion that Euan Menzies is not a household name. I mean, I know if you type "deeatribe" into google, a post about Euan comes up, even although it's nothing to do with him; so that is an achievement, but that's about it. If you google his name, you've got to look down through about 4 links, before he comes up; and that's unacceptable.

I don't know what I need to do to make Euan a world famous name. Euan - that's the point. I want his first name to be synonymous for him. I want people to hear "Euan" and instantly think of Euan Menzies; like Kylie, Madonna, Justin, Steve (doesn't really work with Steve, but you get the idea)

Then again, that is something I love about Euan's name. It is so monosyllabic, that it doesn't connote, denote or emote anything. It's just a noise. Some animals probably make the noise without thinking. It's the same as "Paul". It doesn't mean anything. "Euan" is never going to be the hero of any story. He's never going to achieve anything great and he's never going to be a WW2 pin-up girl; for obvious reasons. I've thought about bringing out a t-shirt range with his wee face plastered over peoples' chests, but that's about as far as my plans go. I'm sure there are a million other ways we can make him famous (stickers of his name around campus, for example (genius. This is going to happen soon)), but I don't know.

The whole point of this is that I would like you people to come up with ideas to make him a superstar. World famous, preferably, but I'll settle for Dundee or even Dundee Uni famous, if I have to.

I want him to be the new rector with a bigger turn out than ever before. I want him to be known. I want him to be somebody. If people don't understand why, just read a few of these blogs and you'll see why. As well as that, he's just my hobby, I guess.