User:Skaterblo/An Encyclopedia

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GrayApple was ere --GrayApple 20:24, 23 February 2007 (UTC)


As I'm writing this, I'm healthily engaged in a daze caused by the use of some cannabis resin and a water bong. I just thought I'd use this enlightenment to see if I could do something useful with my time.

I don't know why it is, but I feel as though I'm being drawn to the right. (or you may call it east, whichever you prefer). And I must move swiftly along, so as to stop my brain from getting bored and missing out on the benefits of this wonderful, cheap, effective, and not to say, healthy, drug.

Hmm. Crisps. Those Tudor Cream Cheese N Chive thingies, that are nice cause they seem to be the only brand of crisps that hasnt given in and surrendered to the snack food behemoth that is Walkers. Only three crisps brands worth mentioning that havent succumbed to the wills of the mighty Walkers snack food company. Talking about big companies and all that, I think I'll partake in a glass of the finest Coca Cola. Wish beer was as nice as it was good kinda "standard" alcoholic beverage, cos then it'd be worth drinkin the foul, urine tasting stuff for more than just the pathetically low alcohol content.

The taste of beer is inversely proportional to the "worth drinkingness" of itself.

[edit] A poem

I just picked some stuffing,
Right out of my tooth,
I seasoned it with garlic and it tasted nice,
I've never seen a mule with an extra hoof,
But I know if I did I'd shoot it - twice.
It's not as if I shoot animals,
I am not Regentry,
I've tried not kill many living things recently,
Except this huge fucking spider,
That was on our settee.
I would rather that he would not eat me,
But he was two inches long,
And he looked quite mean,
So I burned him to shit with deodorant.
It was a bit cruel,
But I watched 'IT' in Primary School,
And I don't want to have to fight it when I'm 50.

I enjoyed writing a poem, despite me constantly forgetting how to write a poem as I wrote it... That was strange. I shall now indulge in some tooth rotting jelly beans. It's all good, as the good man would say.

Enjoyable beanz. Jelly beanz that is. Well, not beanZ exactly. More beans. But I thought I'd soup up the word beans a little and make it more kinda BEANZ like BEANZ with ATTITUDE I IZ GOT ATTITUDE COS I GOT A Z IN ME. Hmm,

I'm not too sure if that thing there holds true. Cos if it was that Zack Morris would be hard bastard. Maybe it means a Z makes you cool and/or a hard bastard.

Yeah, that's probably it. But still that wouldn't apply to Zack Morris from Saved By The Bell ("The blonde one?"

  • "Aye him, remember, the one who could freeze time?"
  • "Oh yeah... Shit dude the X-Men really missed out on having him. He coulda made things a whole lot easier."
  • "Yeah. A damn sight more useful than Jean Grey. I never liked her."
  • "Nah, dude, never liked her meself"
  • "Psylocke though? She was while fine."
  • "Aye, her and Rogue. And I suppose Jubilee would get it too."
  • "Yeah, any girl who can wear a yellow raincoat and big pink sunglasses that well is all good."
  • "Yeah. And at least she can touch ye. Rogue can't"
  • "Dude, I hope you've realised you've just had an entire conversation with yourself about the X Men?"
  • "Aye. Now where was I"), he was just a cunt. I hated him. Twant. That's all he is, is a twant. He's a complete cunt, I've also mixed in the word 'twat' in too, just to give my insult something of a kick. A complete and utter stupid fucking twant.

Good points so far in this essay (of sorts): It's a good guage to measure how completely bangled I am, and I invented a new word. Twant. It makes me smile.

Alas I am bestowed with a confidence that comes along with the slightly euphoric high that comes with cannabis resin smoking. This confidence is strange in that, when viewed in the right light, one realises that rather than confidence, it resembles something more of a gross stupidity. The kind of gross stupidity that also sometimes appears in the form of 'foolhardy bravery', yet somewhat more self centred.

Crikey that was a bit of a moment. I almost fell over.

[edit] Words that I don't think I'll ever need to use very much

  • Catheter
  • Butt
  • Nicotine
  • Submarine
  • Carnival
  • L'Oreal
  • Al Fresco
  • Jeopardy
  • Engineer
  • Conflagration
  • Also the phrase "No I don't want this free (money/sex/dope/drink/various other cool things)".

[edit] Cat on a Hot Tin. Roof.

You're always looking for the solution, I said, And she said the solution to what, Just as I'd expected.

I was thinking about something interesting when I was coming down from the shop. But I forget it. I'm deep in throes of sheer joy that really only appears when you are slightly cooked from the old cannibinol, and watching Monkey Magic. Granted, the joy of cannibinol is but a tiny fraction away from that other joy, but the added hint of Monkey Magic, one reaches a strange place. Well, not really. I'm just sittin here on my chair in my room. Strange that this is the only feasible place I can ever sit and type. I could probably sit on the bed and type if I stretched the cord, but I would be too far away from the screen, and the difficulty I'm having trying focus would make that far too much effort. Bastards.

Tethering me like a cow, NAY a swine, and feeding my their swill. Like pieces of well travelled looking food in a slop bucket, the bastards that tether me send me messages. Straaaange messages. Messages. Messages that say things. Things like "Grow a bigger penis" (Though I'm perfectly happy with my current penis and have no real plans to upgrade in the near future.) or "Stop Baldness" (I am currently fighting a very successful battle with baldness and I only really seem to lose quite a tiny percentage of my hair due to natural causes.)


I Have No Idea What I'm Talking About. Seriously. I Have But A Tiny Clue As To What The Fuck I'm Do- ing.

[edit] Famous People Who I'm Randomly Thinking Of:

  • Phil Mitchell
  • Kat Slater
  • Jeremy Beadle
  • Arnold Schwarzenegger
  • Jamie Lee Curtis
  • Michael Myers
  • Mike Myers
  • Garth
  • Garth Brooks
  • The Dixie Chicks
  • Portia Di Rossi
  • Christina Ricci
  • Christina Aguilera
  • Dee Snider - tee hee
  • Biffo the Bear
  • The Big Plant Out Of Little Shop Of Horrors
  • Rick Moranis
  • John Candy
  • George Wendt
  • Quentin Tarantino
  • Quentin Tarantino again.
  • Wez.
  • Ginger.
  • Rob Zombie.
  • Gian from Cradle Of Filth
  • Stephen King.
  • Everlast.
  • Willy Wonka.
  • Ozzy Osbourne.

I don't know why but I'm picturing people as crudely drawn pictures, looking something like a cross between Roobarb and Custard and Angela Anaconda. That's ROOBARD AND CUSTARD ... and ... ANGELA ANACONDA. Crack.

[edit] Munchables

Excellent I've got more food to talk about!

Monster Munch, the food of champions and kids who can afford to splash out in the sweetie shop. I actually dont know who I'm talking about here, I mean, YOUSE people. There's an apparent lack of people reading this, bar me, but to be honest, at least 100 percent of books are written while the writer reads the words, so its not such a weird thing, Buster.

I wanna stab Phil Collins.

Monster Munch Oh Monster Munch, the only advertisement that frightened the shit out of me and scarred me deeply except for the one about the kids burning themselves with sparklers. I think those adverts worked too, cos you very rarely hear of kids burning themselves with the sparklers. No. They burn people's fucking pets instead, the cruel wee bastards. Fuckin' all sittin lookin innocent all like "Oh Im a baby and I'm enjoying Halloween with my sparkler, which I am protected from due to my fuckin cool woolly gloves", but in fact its more like "I'm a fuckin wee bastard and I'm gonna stick my sparkler in your cats eye... And then I'll come round to your front door and pour petrol through it and burn you and your whole family."

I tells ya, it happens.

It happens!

Things happen hereabouts that they'll talk about.. I see things...

I'm a funky monkey you know. You know people who talk slow, is that because they have a different speed of brain, and thus everything they experience is slow?

[edit] ...Hmmm.

This unexciting saga continues with myself and my attorney, Mr. Keyring, deep in the midsts of cannibinol related euphoria. Having only smoked a little, it can go but one way from here - downhill. Going high downhill. Or something.

I am toasted I am, and I'm eating Doritos. Lovely fucking nice doritos. Fuckin cuntbaggingly super duper doritos. Uberwangtastical.


I couldn't be bothered with this now.

About time I wrote something useful in this isn't it? well, actually, I don't think so. It'll do making absolutely no fucking sense at all cos it is a lesson in itself hearing someone talk this much shite while in full control of their senses (part of the joy of cannibinol, that is).


  • What's the difference between Westlife and a bucket of shit?
I don't think stabbing a bucket of shit to death would acheive very much.
  • Whats the point of Luxemburg?
No, seriously, what is the fucking point of Luxemburg. It's no bigger than my back yard, and consists of one city (imaginitavely titled Luxemburg to assist in school quizes I think).

[edit] Screamers

You know those really painful shits? Screamers, I call 'em. You've never heard of screamers? Ah rite, it's probably your diet. See, I eat people's souls, and sometimes they escape out my arse. And they scream because they've just spent 48 hours in my digestive system (not to mention my ass), and halfway throughout the ordeal, I just know they wish that they were back in the custom made dungeon within my cold, dark heart.

That's all true that.

I'm trying to cut down on souls. I'm only on low fat souls, like joyriders and those charity muggers that you see in the street. And people who work in call centres. Sure there's nothing on them people. 8 hour shifts tethered to a computer talking to stupid people about phones begins to wither a call advisor's soul until it has shrunk to a pathetically small amount of spiritual essence, and is practically a snack for a soul devouring demon like myself.

I smell nice. All like Lynx, cos I had the urge to spray some on myself. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH CLASS, we're watching The Trap Door, for tis all good. Perhaps one of the greatest things ever. See my list;-

[edit] Greatest things EVER

  • The Trap Door.
  • Free Money.
  • Good Sex.
  • Bongs.
  • The Trap Door.
  • Bill Hicks.
  • Weed. For the bongs.
  • More Sex.
  • Stockings.
  • Clothes.
  • Shops.
  • Food.
  • Italian food.
  • Pizza. And more pizza.
  • And lasagne.
  • Trees.
  • Electricity.
  • Heavy metal.
  • Teeth.
  • Houses.
  • The Trap Door.
  • Primary School. (Though you don't like it at the time.)

[edit] I HAVE AN IDEER.

I was thinking how cool it would be to travel back in time, yet within your body, so as you can know what you know now, except when you're younger. That would rock so it would. Hmm, I'd travel back to when you could get certain foods just so as I could enjoy them over n over again, and not having to bother getting all nostalgic about them.

FUCKING FRUIT GUMS.


AAAAAAAaaaaaaaarghh I hate fruit gums. They are fucking shite. They are paired with Fruit Pastilles, yet taste approximately six times rancid-er than them. Made solely for the purpose of rotting and/or removing teeth. I can't think of anyone who would enjoy eating them for the fine "throat burning" sugary taste, that makes one think "ARE THESE MEDICAL OR SOMETHING?". *I've been on Sleeping Tablets with more consideration for the consumer!

  • Creatures.
  • How am I supposed to take your photograph if you keep moving about?
  • C'mere you ingredient!!!
  • Berk!
  • Berk! It's perched on me!

[edit] -----> Hi! <--------------------

My hands are numb and cold. Damned circulation. Bizarro! The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air

The Game!

What you need -

  • Drink. Woo-woos' deceptive good taste helps get ye blocked during things like this.
  • A T.V. With the Fresh Prince on. Or a video of it (though why you would I shall not ask).

The Game - Based on the fact that The Fresh Prince is on every single day of the week and no matter what you do, you always end up watching it, so I thought I'd be as well inventing a way to make it a whole lot more enjoyable than it already is. Cos it's so not really THAT enjoyable. Take a drink every time:

  • Carlton screams like a girl.
  • Carlton sings.
  • Carlton dances.
  • Will makes a remark about Carlton's height.
  • Someone remarks on Will's ears.
  • Jazz gets thrown out of the house.
  • Someone remarks on Uncle Phil being fat. (take two drinks if it's not Will)
  • Geoffrey says something that makes him jeopardise his job/appear somewhat mental.
  • Uncle Phil does something scary.
  • You get a dirty thought involving either Hillary or Ashley.
  • Every time you concentrate a little too hard on Hillary's legs.
  • Will tries to act.
  • A white person does something gay.

Neck your whole glass when:

  • The woman playing Aunt Viv changes again.
  • You see the youngest kid, who only exists sometimes.
  • There's a guest star that you don't have a clue who they are.
  • There's a serious issue - death, guns or drugs.

[edit] Money

I've gotta list of things I need to buy when I get money. Actually right now I'd like to make a list of things I'd like to buy between now and my imminent death.

  • A big fuckin Black car that purrs like the devil and has fuckin huge red hot rod flames up the sides. And a cool Cd Player.
  • A Haunted House.
  • A Funfair.
  • A Baby.
  • A Top Hat.
  • Lots and lots of old horror videos and surf albums.
  • A cane.
  • Some cool tattooes.
  • Some guns.
  • REALLY WEIRD SUSHI IMPORTED FROM JAPAN.
  • Kittens.
  • A really really cool lighter.
  • A Town in France. And theming it around Stella Artois adverts.
  • One of those things.
  • A drink for Dustin Hoffman.
  • Fire In The Disco.
  • Fire In The Taco Bell.
  • Fire also, quite tragically, at the old peoples home up the road...
  • Tab.
  • Tab tab, and indeed Tab.
  • And on my fifth, I grow weary..

[edit] Staaaaaaaaar Waaaaaaaars

Lots of Staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Waaaaaaaaaars.
All Robots blowing shiiiiiiit uup.
HERE HERE HERE STEVE FUCKING IRWIN!!!
AHHHHHHHHH THAT DUDE IS SO COOL!
I mean, seriously, Cool.

He spends all his time twatting about in a zoo annoying animals. Fuckin' class. I'd love to hang out with him and punch a few crocodiles in the balls n' that. I'm thinkin'. When I'm older, I'm gonna be one of them completely scary old guys who lives in the oldest creepiest looking house in the street and who all the kids are shite scared of.

Check it, this would be good.

I'd just sit there all day and keep watch for the first wee kid to be brave enough to try to look through my window.

I could be subtle if i wanted, but I honestly think putting dried animal blood around your windowframes to both freak them out and get them closer to the window, so I can properly fuckin traumatise 'em for life.
Other antics would include skinning animals in the front room, shooting at things from my armchair, making my eyes light up, and talking to human like entities.
Also, some real life goblins and demons could be hired to sit in my living room with me sometimes, just so as to suggest to the nosey kids that I am in fact the devil.
Hopefully one of the kids will go tell his parents what he saw, and they'll try to see if there's any truth by asking me what I'm up to. Then I'll just act all normal and reassure the parents with some well placed lies.
Then I'll keep my child-disturbing antics up, even upping the ante so much as to actually kill AND skin a fucking huge cow in my living room, and then that one kid, thinking there's no way I'll get away with my private weirdness this time, alerts his far-too-caring parents again.
This time I invite them in. Keeping them from the living room of course. Showing them around my otherwise normal house. They subtly hint towards the living room, and the mouthy child thinks he has me. Marked as both a mad old bastard, and a fucking lunatic.
They walk behind me as I open the door..
They step in, partially hoping they'd find something mental, like a dead cow, or a pile of Pot Noodle cartons infested with eels. But I'd cleared all that shit up.
All they see is my living room, with many new dark red ornaments and decorations, and a huge cowskin rug.
Ah I see how my boy thought you were doing something mental, dude, they'll say.
I'll gently nod and explain how active a boys imagination can get. Especially when they've been taking drugs (see fig. A).
The parents, realising my subtle hint, will then set their minds to thinking if this could be the reason for their sons "over-active imagination".
THEN - I'll keep my weirdness up, going so far as to craft myself a suit of armor solely from Pringles boxes and black bags.

(think Stormtrooper, except designed by a working class mum, yet abandoned due to her husbands untimely death... sorry, getting off course here...)


[edit] Bovine tipping dear siire

Now, people think conversations about say, cow tipping, are good. But to be honest they aren't. They are pretty far out - PUSHING A SLEEPING COW OVER!!! - now that's funny, in perhaps the execution or witnessing of such an incedent, but a conversation, cow tipping doesn't last long.

It doesn't have the novelty value, nor the ability to generate much further interesting conversation concerning it. In fact, usually by the time someone gets round to "Aye, my da tried that one time..." or something, you never really hear what the end of their anecdote is, cos basically, you don't care.

Not caring about things is great. It's a similar feeling to when you eat all your potatoes and can then get onto the more interesting task of eating your beans or wee lamb cutlet things. Kinda like what you do with your brussels sprouts on Christmas.

[edit] So; heres me..

Here's me wha?
Serious?
Oi.
So what did yer man say?
Nathin. I lamped 'im.
Serious?
Oi.
So what did yer man say?
Nathin.
Serious?
Oi.
'En a lamped 'im again.
Serious?
Oi.
Knack his cont in did ye?
Oi.
Pi'erful.
Serious.
Oi.
Oi.

[edit] Cool people

  • Duke Nukem.
  • Uncle Phil from The Fresh Prince.
  • Carlton from the Fresh Prince. If you're gay.
  • Rob Zombie.
  • I AM A ROLLING>
  • Aye.
  • WEE WEEDLY WEEEE WEE WEEDLY WEEEEEE,
  1. OOOW OOOOOOOOOOW OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW...
  1. shit man I'm losing it.
  1. FUCK I WANNA PLAY A GAME LIKE TRIVIAL PURSUIT OR SOMETHING
  1. That'd be cool.

Why are there wee holes in the side of Bic Pens? Is that to heighten the likelihood of you getting ink all over your hands when it bursts (as it inevitably does)...

That's true that.

Bic Pens (called Biro's for some bizarre reason) never seem to run out. By the time there's very little ink left, usually the actual pen will be eaten, stood on or it will just burst of its own accord. Like a middle aged businessman deciding he doesnt wanna be old, and finishes it there in his office, next to a picture of his wife and kids, with a gun his friend gave just in case he ran into any altercations when driving late at night or whatever.

Aye, like that.

[edit] Creatures

Spittin' in general is rank when done in excess. It's only necessary when you've smoked so much weed that the only thing you can actually do is spit. Man thats crazy.


I was thinking, I'm gonna open my own graveyard, cause this one time I was at a funeral and it was at a 'new' graveyard. I thought to myself, "a new graveyard? isnt that just a field?" So I'm gonna buy a field and invite people to come die nearby. Cool eh? I mean all you need is a gate and a wee spooky house for the grave yard keeper guy to live in.

With his dead wife.

Whenever I rule the world, I'm gonna make 'themed' graveyards, where you get buried in a strange manner for the sole reason that you're going to piss off archeoligists thousands of years from now. Like arrange a lot of dead people in a circle, and in the middle create a big massive mutant skeleton, and so, the archeologists will think they've found something bizarre, like a pile of people killed by a weird creature, but it'll just be me fuckin 'em around.

If I ever owned a mummy, the first thing I would do would be to take photos of it in comedy poses all around the city. Man that'd be some funny shit. Talk about disrespectin the dead eh? Well its not my fault she's dead so I'm not so worried;- and anyway, I doubt any of her relatives are gonna complain either.


[edit] I noticed something.

See on food that has the word 'luxury' on it, I realised it means luxury (obviously), but like when you look closer at it, it doesn't exactly mean luxurious. It means you have to eat it slowly, but all this is made harder by the fact it does live up to the 'luxury' status, and very often is fucking lovely.

Right this could work.

I was hoking round in our freezer today, and I found Cottage Pie.
Now, I'm not sure, but it looked like what I thought was Shepherds pie...
See, now I don't know. Is shephards pie the same thing?
Or even worse have I just invented a pie cause I couldnt remember that it was originally called Cottage pie?
I do not know.


Rusty forks. Eeeew. There's always some old person you know and when you eat at their house, you always get the rusty fork. Its worrying cos most forks for about the past 40 odd years (at a guess like, I'm not really interested in forks to be honest) would probably have to be like stainless NON RUSTY steel.

That means chances are you're using a fork with at least 50 years of gathered iron oxide on it... I dont know, but thats just fucking wrong. And anytime I ever got a rusty fork when I was a kid, I was smacked and told off, cause pointing out that your great aunt's cutlery IS rusted is considered rude. No harm, but that's just parenting at it's annoying best. If someone came to mine n had a problem with the cutlery, I'd be glad to be told that my rusty forks really werent going down a treat with the diners. I dunno, I think if someone gave me rusty forks now, I'd probably be OBLIGED to tell them I had a problem with it, I mean, if someone don't have the common sense not to put out rusty forks, what the fuck else mustnt they know? Hehe, fuckin' good cause to check if the meat is cooked right the way through, and constantly hoping it wasn't cooked with a blowtorch.

You know how disappointed you get when your a kid when you turn the TV on to watch cartoons and all you can find is detectives?

Like, detectives, funny or not, are totally gay when you really want cartoons.

BASTARDS..

I think war would be far better if they banned guns totally. Now don't get me wrong, guns are cool, but shooting someone in a war is just too easy. And don't get me started on bombs and nuclear weapons. I mean that's basically the etch-a-sketch solution to war, and well, I'd rather war be more like a fine art than a red plastic stupid thing that no kid can ever draw a decent picture on. Admittedly right now I'm really verging on Eddie Izzard territory with the Etch A Sketch thing but like, it is one thing that continues to underwhelm me.

Now back in the day, we had Leisureworld and due to something extremely gay, it closed down. This place was the most bitchin toy shop ever. A little expensive, and scarily tempting for 10 year old shoplifters, but still a great toy shop, regardless. Well aye, they used to have certain toys out that you could play with, you know, nothing stealable, cos after all, it was off Castle Street, what I'd like to describe as The Whitechapel District of Belfast. And I mean when Jack The Ripper was alive.

Sayin that, if there was a Castle Street Jack The Ripper, he'd clumsily hit a milly with a Smirnoff Ice bottle, try to run away from the police, trip over a glue bag (thats a glue sniffer, don't worry noone cares that you mix them up with inanimate objects, cos noone likes them.), and end up spending the rest of the night in jail getting his balls rolled.


But anyway! Well, in Leisureworld I tried out Etch A Sketch pretty much every time I passed it, probably hoping I'd sorta miraculously becoming this artistic boy genius who could actually make not just a passable picture, but a fucking RECOGNISABLE one. That was always my goal, but it never happened. I just realised that the only thing I could draw was a sort of fabric kinda effect by just making loads of lines criss cross each other. I just could never figure out how to control the bloody thing. Once you thought u understood what one of the little white knobs did, you had forgotten what the other one did cos it was just stupid. I hated Etch A Sketch.

[edit] Anyway, this war - here's the scenario..

"Uh, we're gettin beat here..."
"BLOW EVERYTHING UP WITHIN A FIFTY MILE RADIUS THAT SHOULD SORT IT OUT!"

(See, if there were no guns or bombs, we'd have to use swords n arrows n shit like that, melée weapons, if you will. Well not arrows obviously. They're, um, flying wooden things. But so then the previous scenario there would be as such...)

"Uh, we're gettin beat here..."
"Aye I know, we could run away or we could hang about for a bit n cut off as many heads as we can. Aye, and throw hot tar and infected animals at them too."

[edit] Wars must've been cool in those days!

Y'see

You know what'd really piss me off.. if I was dead, then I was woken up like, by some chemical or voodoo or something, and all the other zombies got out of their graves and went to look for people with brains to eat, but my grave had like, concrete or somethin' dead heavy on the top, and so I just got stuck in my grave for ages and missed out on the whole eatin' brains and all that.

That would piss me right off.


Well that was fun, took a while, didnt think I could rite that much shit while stoned but anyway hope you enjoyed.

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