Okay, so as you might have noticed my blog posts have kind of gone downhill, which might be to do with me running out of topics worth writing about. So, this blog is going to be about James. But as I've got five minutes left, it won't make much sense. Oh, four minutes now.
So, I know James from year 7. He has kind of yellowish hair. Oh, and he fights dragons for a living. Not much money in dragon slaying these days, so he can't afford a sword, making the slaying quite difficult. So he got laser eyes. Unfortunately he can't control the laser eyes, which lead to him setting his kind of yellowish hair on fire. The End.
Join us next week for more random crap.
Showing posts with label weird. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weird. Show all posts
Sunday, 17 April 2011
Sunday, 6 February 2011
Hair
I have long hair. Not just shaggy "long for a guy" long, ridiculously long. About 2ft (maybe 3, it's been a while so I can't really remember) when I measured it last. Not only do I have long hair, I also don't have any good ideas for a blog post this week, so I'm going to have to run with this.
Normally I don't think about my hair that much, but a combination of meeting someone who, after quickly proclaiming her sobriety, made her amazement to my hair clear, and going on a blog about very long hair for women where the majority had shorter hair than mine has made me contemplate my hair.
A question I often get asked is "why the bloody hell do you have long hair?" My answer varies with my mood, from a simple "dunno" to a sarcastic "because I didn't cut it", with the classic staring at my hair in utter amazement as though I hadn't noticed it before then running off lying somewhere in the middle. But the truth is I'm not sure why I don't get it cut. Occasionally I say it represents my individuality, but then I hear myself and realise what a tool I sound. Other times I convince myself that once the 70s rock look comes back my hair will start paying attractiveness dividends, despite the fact that people have in the past told me things along the lines of "you have a nice face, pity about the hair." So perhaps it is deliberate self sabotage? I believe the true reason is probably a much simpler case of fear of change and getting invested in something. Basically, after growing my hair for a couple of years I got into a "I've come this far" mentality, so as each day passes it becomes less and less likely that I'll be able to have it cut and more and more part of what I perceive as my identity. I'm a little worried this might happen with my facial hair too, with my stupid nearly-ginger-but-not-really beard scaring off people and encouraging the idea that I am homeless with ever increasing length and therefore effectiveness.
The other question I often get asked is whether I'm ever planning to have it cut. The answer is yes, I do plan on having it cut at some point. The only problem is that as I always see it happening sometime in the quite distant future it is possible I will simply never get around to having it cut. I have thought about getting it cut recently, but I'm just not sure I will. There are still so many things I haven't done with it, such as Jedwarding it straight up or suspending my whole body weight from it. So for now it seems like my hair and connected weird look that comes with it are going to be around for a bit longer.
Normally I don't think about my hair that much, but a combination of meeting someone who, after quickly proclaiming her sobriety, made her amazement to my hair clear, and going on a blog about very long hair for women where the majority had shorter hair than mine has made me contemplate my hair.
A question I often get asked is "why the bloody hell do you have long hair?" My answer varies with my mood, from a simple "dunno" to a sarcastic "because I didn't cut it", with the classic staring at my hair in utter amazement as though I hadn't noticed it before then running off lying somewhere in the middle. But the truth is I'm not sure why I don't get it cut. Occasionally I say it represents my individuality, but then I hear myself and realise what a tool I sound. Other times I convince myself that once the 70s rock look comes back my hair will start paying attractiveness dividends, despite the fact that people have in the past told me things along the lines of "you have a nice face, pity about the hair." So perhaps it is deliberate self sabotage? I believe the true reason is probably a much simpler case of fear of change and getting invested in something. Basically, after growing my hair for a couple of years I got into a "I've come this far" mentality, so as each day passes it becomes less and less likely that I'll be able to have it cut and more and more part of what I perceive as my identity. I'm a little worried this might happen with my facial hair too, with my stupid nearly-ginger-but-not-really beard scaring off people and encouraging the idea that I am homeless with ever increasing length and therefore effectiveness.
The other question I often get asked is whether I'm ever planning to have it cut. The answer is yes, I do plan on having it cut at some point. The only problem is that as I always see it happening sometime in the quite distant future it is possible I will simply never get around to having it cut. I have thought about getting it cut recently, but I'm just not sure I will. There are still so many things I haven't done with it, such as Jedwarding it straight up or suspending my whole body weight from it. So for now it seems like my hair and connected weird look that comes with it are going to be around for a bit longer.
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Fingernail
My little finger on my right hand has a long nail on it. Freakishly long. Here's a photo:
Note the handy reference coin. It's length from base to tip (bet that's the first time you've seen those words on a website that doesn't check that you're over 18 before going on) is just a bit less than 4.5 cm, or 1.75 inches.
You might be wondering why. If not take this chance to wonder why. The answer is, I'm not quite sure. I grew it a bit, then I continued to grow it. After a while it got to a point where I couldn't cut it as it would feel a waste of all the time I'd spent growing it.
So now I'm stuck with a nail that looks creepy and doesn't really serve any purpose. It means I can't make a fist, which I guess could help me if I develop anger management issues.
I had a point about this, but I can no longer recall it and as I have quite a bit of work to do I can't rewrite this post. So I'll go with it anyway.
Urm, I can paint it. I'm thinking of doing it as a rainbow. Also, there's a crack in it that I got around Easter time.
Seriously, I had a point to this. I wouldn't just write about my nail without a point. Let's just assume it was a good point and you can go away feeling inspired and enlightened.
Okay, how about a double competition: Best suggestion for what to paint my nail and best suggestion for what my point might be. The winner of both these will win, ur, a rubbish drawing by me. I really must think of better prizes. Submissions in comments. Closes two blogs from now. If I get no submissions (or just rubbish ones) I'll just draw a rubbish picture for myself. Then feel sad that I have no one to give said picture to.
Until next week goodbye. Unless I see you in real life before then, but let's face it, what are the chances of that?
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