Hello internet, it’s been a while.
Let’s get straight into the things that are wrong with the world. No small talk.
Straight in, no kissing.
1. The presence of the ‘n’-word in most rap songs ruins my dreams of someday performing them in karaoke.
I’m not sure if I’m alone in doing this, but usually when I’m walking around with my earphones in, I’m applying some sort of scenario to the music I’m listening to.
Sometimes I’m the lead guitarist in the band, performing the song in some big stadium.
Sometimes I’m the bassist, if it’s a really good bassline.
I’m never the drummer.
I’m never really the singer either, because I can’t sing.
Sometimes it’s the music they play before I go onstage to accept some great award.
Sometimes it’s the soundtrack being played in the final scene of a film I’ve written and gotten loads of success, money and blowjobs from.
I said before that I can’t sing, but this doesn’t mean I can’t rap.
Sadly, I could never actually be a rapper.
I’ve never been in a fight and don’t particularly enjoy being in da club, so unless it becomes acceptable for rapping to be about having a blog and longing for the return of old Nickelodeon cartoons, it’s safe to say my rap career won’t be kicking off anytime soon.
However, this doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be able to have a little fantasy about doing some rap songs in karaoke sometime.
I actually know the words to a surprising amount of rap songs. Take for example, my rap lyric-deciphering post. After writing that post, I’ve never forgotten the words (or at least my version of the words) to In Da Club by 50 Cent.
Imagine I got up and did a rap on karaoke.
It’d be so good.
I’m a very white man, both figuratively and literally.
I sunburn easily.
I can’t dance.
So me doing rap on karaoke would be funny.
But I can’t.
Because almost every rap song includes the ‘N’-word in there somewhere.
You know the one I’m talking about.
I couldn’t say that word and not sound like a total loser and/or racist.
The dream is over.
Fuck you, rappers. Using words in your songs that render them un-karaokeable to honkies like me. Selfish and inconsiderate.
And I know what they’d say to me in response.
“Hey Walsho, why you gotta be such a nagger?”
And I know what I’d say in return.
“Hey Fifty/Dre/Snoop/Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Popadiddypop, if I’m being a nagger, then maybe you should stop being something that sounds very much like the word ‘nagger’! That’s right, a blagger! Stop being such a blagger. Talking about your bitches and your hoes and drugs and guns. You pick your nose and eat beans on toast just like the rest of us!”
Maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea.
I wouldn’t want to hurt the feelings of any rapper.
Getting into a ‘beef’ sounds very time-consuming.
Fuck it, I’ll just do a Will Smith song.
2. Lettuce is a rip-off
I don’t actually know how much lettuce costs.
But I know it’s a rip-off.
See, what happens is you buy a thing of lettuce in the shop. A whole thing.
“That’ll be nice”, you think to yourself. “I’ll do a nice salad or something healthy with that lettuce I’m buying now.”
People buy lettuce to put it in salads or sandwiches.
The problem here is that once I have a helping of lettuce, I never really want to eat it again over the next few days. I feel like I’ve paid my lettuce dues. So then it rots in the fridge. Goes all brown and minging. Takes up loads of space too, so you throw it out as soon as you have the chance.
I reckon lettuce is one of the most wasted foods going.
You should be able to buy properly-sized portions of lettuce.
Head into a shop and make a personalised lettuce order.
“Hiya, I’ll take a salad and two sandwiches’ worth of lettuce please.”
– “Good choice sir, here you are.”
“Thank you shopkeep.”
3. There is no correct way to eat a muffin
I like eating muffins. They’re delicious.
But I very rarely buy them.
This is because I don’t know the correct way to eat them.
There’s two methods I’ve tried and both have flaws.
The first way is to just lash into the muffin as if it were an apple. Roughly a half a second after doing this, you realise what an awful idea it is. You’ll get muffin crumbs on your face. The thing will fall apart. Crumbs will start falling everywhere, and you’ll place your hand below the muffin in order to catch the suicidal crumbs, but to no avail. It’s a fucking mess. What do you do with the crumbs you do collect in your hand? They stick to your hand so if you want to eat them you have to sort of hoover them up with your mouth. Or else just brush them into a bin or onto the ground. Either way, you’re losing.
The second way, which seems to be more popular, is to just pick pieces of muffin off with your hand. It’s almost eating the muffin as if it were a packet of crisps. This is stupid and shit and annoying. Firstly, you get loads of muffin on your fingers. Then, the muffin-to-mouth journey always has some crumb casualties. I reckon the journey from the muffin to your mouth is about a foot in distance. How then, do I manage to let loads of crumbs fall with every little bite?
Muffins are probably the second most wasted food. You finish a muffin and realise half the fucking thing is on your face, fingers, or in a little trail of crumbs on the table. If you’re not in public you can lick or suck the muffin that’s on your fingers, but if you’re in public you can forget about it. It’s collateral damage. I just know I’d make eye contact with a little boy and his mother when I’m doing the finger sucking.
“Mammy, why’s that man sucking his finger and looking at me?”
“He’s doing that because he’s clearly a pervert, son.”
4. Sometimes I accidentally make a bubble with my mouth
This happens quite rarely. I’d say maybe even as rare as once a year. But still, it bothers me so much when it does happen.
Basically I’ll be talking, or about to talk, and as I open my mouth, a saliva-bubble forms between my lips and expands as I open my mouth. It disappears almost instantly obviously, and is probably not even noticeable, but good Christ I hate when it happens. It never happens when I’m chatting with my Dad or something. It’ll be right before I try say something cool and suave before going for a kiss. A kiss with a girl, like. Not my Dad.
Sometimes I worry it’ll happen right before my award-accepting speech I mentioned above.
And the winner of the award for outstanding achievements in the field of excellence is… Mark Walsh!
The music starts.
The crowd rises and applauds.
Walsho stands up and gives his supermodel girlfriend a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the arse.
He strides to the stage. Along the way, men pat him on the back and try to shake his hand. Women swoon and try to show him their breasts.
He approaches the podium, taking his award in hand, and the camera zooms in on him as he begins his speech.
He opens his mouth AND THEN A MASSIVE SALIVA BUBBLE FORMS BETWEEN HIS LIPS, before popping like a gentle hymen.
The audience are aghast, the award is retracted, and Walsho spends the remainder of his life on the streets, forever ruing his salivary glands and their unfortunate timing, not to mention fucking HD camera technology.
I mean, how am I supposed to carry on living my life when I’ve got problems like this to worry about?
5. Some people I know still some times spell ‘come’ as ‘cum’
I’m not going to get into people using txtspk, or generally being morons with spelling and grammar. There’s not enough time.
But one particular thing that really bothers me is when people spell the word ‘come’ as ‘cum’.
‘Cum’ is acceptable only when referring to an orgasm, or the product of a male orgasm.
I see things on Facebook like:
“U cumin out 2nite?”
Or “ah wud you cum off it”
Or maybe “too cold to be cumin into collage today”
Comments like that conjure up many images for me.
And every single one of them is absolutely dripping in hot jizz.
For me it’s like if “fanny batter” was also a commonly misspelled version of a verb.
“Hey, having a party tonight, hope you can all fanny batter!”
“Yeah, I saw him last week and he was fanny battering all over the shop.”
It’s a wonder I manage to get up in the morning when I’ve got things like this to complain about every minute of every day.
But then I remember that for every overpriced lettuce, or awkward-to-eat muffin, there’s a warm shower, a cold beer, or a lovely arse walking up some stairs in front of you, right in your face.
Swings and roundabouts, eh?