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.