micleadd7

[micleadd7]

Social media

Just add me on Facebook. Did you see my lunch the other day on Instagram? CleverBets2017 is now following you.You have been added to the whats app group Jeans 40th birthday. I guarantee at some point in the last few years you have all heard these things be you a Twitterer, Facebooker, Instagrammer, whatsapper or otherer (there's always an otherer) the crazy world that is socialising and social media absorbs your daily being, turning you into a mindless scrolling zombie. Flicking from one app to the next without a care in the world. Have we forgotten the days of calling people for a chat in the kitchen because that's where the phone is? looking through pictures you have had developed from holidays gone by? TEXT MESSAGING!?  HAVE WE LOST OUR WAY IN A BLUR OF CLICK  BAIT ARTICLES, MEMES AND COMMENT SECTIONS ON GROUPS THAT OFFEND THE PEOPLE WHO NEED TO BE OFFENDED!!  Let's start at the beginning.

Firstly I must point out the thing that makes most of this possible, the enabler of such activity, without it people would sit in a bar by themselves waiting for their friends awkwardly, the smart phone. Iphone/Samsung/Pigeon carrier whatever you are you have the tech literally at your fingertips to engage with anyone anywhere at any point. Bluetooth, 4g, WIfi, order a taxi, order a pizza for the taxi, watch TV, listen to the radio, I mean what is there that your smartphone does not do? What happened to the days of 3 ringtones per phone, polyphonic nonetheless, the genius that was snake, phones that when you dropped them instead of the screen smashing into a thousand pieces you feared for every bone in your foot. Now you have a bing, ding or some other strange noise you've never heard before and that's it, you are taken away into the online world forever, well not forever but at least for the foreseeable.

Ok anyway the beginning, well maybe not the beginning let's not forget Myspace with its click counter and putting your friends in order of who you liked the most. But no the real beginning for me has to be the arrival of Facebook. Facebook changed the boundaries of social etiquette in so many ways. People; be it dates, friends, random weirdos at a party or work no longer exchange phone numbers or show pictures. No no that's no longer necessary, ‘What's your full name?’ That is necessary, and a whole lot simpler to try and guess than a long list of numbers. Yes a person's full name is all you need for a full back catalogue of the last 10 years of anyone's life. Pictures, relationships, family members, age, home town, which spice girl you dressed up as at your local school disco it's all there, waiting for you, willing you to find it! More info than any sane human being should be able to process after 5 minutes of facebook stalking someone. Oh yes that's the other thing, I mean another thing, there are many things. Facebook stalking someone is widely known and accepted. As if this level of intense research into someone's life is any different from actual stalking. Looking through Katies pictures from her trip to Benidorm in 2003, specifically pausing on the bikini clad pics is just as creepy as standing outside her house in the rain hoping to steal a glimpse of her in the shower. Katie if you are reading this you can't prove anything. I guess the difference being is Katie put those pictures on Facebook right? So she wanted people to see them right? Her friends right? In which case she should be ok with her friends waiting outside her window in the rain, trying to get a glance at some sideboob action. Not sure why it has to be raining but it just does.

So what's your name? Add me on facebook. If they are interesting enough you trudge through making opinions on things. The thing is Facebook is a keyhole into someone's life that they want you to see. We all know this yet we all forget it. People (and when I say people I mean everyone) are fabricating whole lives through social media. Informing overs about brilliant family get togethers, forgetting the 16 arguments that occurred on the day and merely commenting on the pictures with everyone smiling. Adding road trip tags about how awesome the journey was even though Dave was asleep the whole way and Nick wouldn't stop farting. Or there's the amazing stays in hotels or brilliant 5 star meals or BBQing with every friend possible… You can forgive people for wanting to only post the most exciting parts of their  lives, I do the exact same thing but just once i'd like flick open the app and see:

Katie is thinking about staring at a tree.

It would probably get the same amount of likes anyway!

All that being said there are several scenarios that have grown into the very fabric of FB. Those things that happen which we all know about but either ignore, forget or are apart of. The ground to cover here is vast so I will move quickly;

The sheer anger towards each other in comment sections on a post nobody can even remember after the 45 replies is embarrassing.And it always ends with someone correcting someone else's fucking grammar, And no Michael Jackson isn't just here for the comments and popcorn.

People who re-post nonsense that starts with, ‘Most of your friends won't have the guts to re-post this’ can all suck a bag of dicks.

People who still play games and still send out invites - HOW ARE YOU STILL DOING THIS?

Click bait articles in which you never get the answer to the question posed in the headline which just makes me so mad I want to argue with anyone in the comments section.

When you see people still fraping each other and it depends on your mood as to if it's funny or not that MIke loves huge cocks.

And then there's this;

Saying Happy birthday on your birthday. I kid you not I have both posted happy birthday on a good friend's wall when he changed it for a joke looking like I have no idea when his birthday is and also missed a good friend's birthday because they took it down from Facebook. In fact the alert of someone's birthday on every single morning of every single day reminds me that i'm still friends with that person on here and that I should remove them from my Friends list, HAPPY BIRTHDAY INDEED! I do enjoy the Happy Birthdays on my birthday though, I wonder how many friends I lose on that day. Imagine that last sentence attached to real life, ‘I wonder how many friends I lose on my birthday’. Yeah thanks Facebook.

After all that nonsense there's then the people which I always say I will never be but will never know until I get there, Mums and Dads. The people who feel the need to show their children off to the whole internet every time he/she sneezes. Don't get me wrong, new parents I understand, absolutely, but there's a point where it surely must stop.

So proud of little Tommy here he is on:

His first day at school. 20 likes

At a swimming Gala 30 likes

Riding a bike 35 likes

Sleeping 100 likes.

FUCK OFF, i'm serious. How Is it that parents manage to escape the ability to realise that nobody else on earth is as interested in their child as much as they are. Well apart from the Savilles of the world but surely that's just adding to reasons why little Tommy on a bike should be kept to exactly that. I mean you wouldn't walk up to a stranger in the street and go, hey guy look at my kid in his new school Uniform, you like? Just give me a thumbs up and then tell all your mates to come look and give me a thumbs up as well.

Saying that I want to see pictures of your kids (sounds odd) about as much as I want to see pictures of your dinner. A friend of mine whatsapped me the other month (because nobody texts anymore. You all have that one friend that still texts you and you can't understand why) asking if i'd seen his dinner from the night before. What on earth happened before facebook/Instagram? Did people invite the neighbours over to look at their food before telling them to go away so they could eat it? Stupid thing is if someone stalks me ON FACEBOOK long enough i'm probably guilty of this myself. If like me as well you grew up with facebook when it first became a thing, I was at UNI. Hundreds of pictures of me being drunk and doing stupid things went up over a 3 year period. I was completely oblivious to the concept that my Parents Aunties/Uncles and all relatives may at some point join this network, leaving a huge window into my life open for anyone to see. Adam why are you in a shopping trolley at 6am? At least it's not my dinner!!!

While Facebook was the poster boy for socialising online there were many other apps following suit which had you mindlessly scrolling through smart phones as if other people were simply not in the room. To coin a phrase, does your phone want a drink? If it's not instagram with its crazy hashtags, #blog #tumblr #words #life #trees #Lettuce it's Twitter with well it's crazy hashtags, or SnapChat or Tinder or Fuckafish. I made that last one up but i'll bet if I had a quick look I would find an app for such means, probably endorsed by Bear Grylls.

With all this mindless scrolling going on we venture into the world of whatsapp. Past the causal 1-2-1s you have with your friends where you send constant pictures of yourself smiling like an idiot because you are bored of checking if your twitter post has been retweeted, there's the groups. Not as in Louis got the groups but the groups. You will have a group of friends group, a different group of friends group but with certain friends from the first group in that group, a family group and birthday group, a work group, without that dick from finance, a travelling in the car somewhere that nobody comments in anymore because you went wherever you were going group, a holiday group, a friend's pet group a... you get the picture. Your life is taken over when you wake up to 50 unread messages, mostly because Nick posted a funny meme or Rachel wants the money for the birthday present.You reply as thoroughly as you can copy and pasting Nick's now that you've woken up hilarious meme into several other groups,  pleased with the joke stealing laughs you are getting. Even if they all seem to be out loud. You find you have lost hours of the day communicating with people you could have just gone to see.

Further to that time wasting notion the creators then bought you whatsapp.web. Allowing you to have the app on your desktop, a sort of throwback to Messenger but with less smileys in people's titles and no nudge function. Shame on the no nudge function, loved having the feeling of a headache portrayed on a computer. So yes Whats app on your computer. At home. At work more like. With a million and one things to do, you are busy chatting to friends, family members and anyone who wants to listen. Tweeting about something completely unimportant, clicking through picture after picture of a lovely pie and mash or cheese board or a dog's dinner on Instagram only stopping to briefly stalk that girl you met last night on Facebook, she didn't give you her number but that's ok you don't need that. You've got a complete overview of what she's been doing for the last 10 years or so.Hell you don't even need an umbrella, it's not raining in your office.

[micleadd7]

moving.

At some point, some place and some scenario in your life you will have to go through one of the most exciting and tiring tasks of your grown up life, no I'm not talking about oral sex (pick a gender) I'm talking about moving house.

Even home-owners way back when you sat down and discussed why you are paying thousands of pounds out for stamps will have experienced this. This scenario is mixed with a level of excitement and nervousness that is all consuming from the point you have decided to move out  to the weekend you are moving in too the weeks that follow after you have moved in. While one part you of can't wait to get into the new place, pull down the square piece of wood blocking your way to the attic which in your mind holds treasures beyond your wildest dreams which your new landlord has been hiding from the government for years. The other part of you is aware that the bloke from the TV license agency is already on his way round, the water company are trying to charge you for weeks you haven't even lived there and your new neighbours are drug dealing lunatics that resemble something similar to an early episode of The Wire, in which you are expecting Iris Elba to knock on your door at any moment and ask if you've moved the stash recently.

Well I haven't moved the stash recently but what I have done is moved myself, again, this time to Leytonstone, east London, you know the place where that thing happened with a machete that and there's a  24 hour Maccydees. The move adds to an ever growing list of London houses that I have inhabited. Since I moved here in 2012 I've had no fewer than 6 houses, yep 6 different houses in four years. From the beautifully disgusting hookers off Ilford, the green in the summer and shit brown in the winter common of Tooting Bec to the expensiveness of Bermondsey and ridiculously quiet Surrey Quays the areas themselves have all had their own charm, and then there was Plaistow. Incidentally when I arrived at Plaistow (pronounced plarstow not playstow, I know right) I googled the area and the first thing I find? ‘Local youth stabbed and murdered in Raj’s corner shop, good job I didn't google Leytonstone when I moved there. There are several things I have learned along the way of my East - South - East London journey about moving houses, namely that it costs a crazy amount of money if you go with an agency and if you don't you a liable to be chucked out a moment's notice by some crazy landlord who invites himself round at any given chance to perve on the girl in room 4. Or fills up your back garden with so many pot plants you start to think the women is breeding and selling the fucking things, who really needs that many pot plants?

So the process starts with the search, you've got a laptop open, sat in the local coffee shop bumbling through awful websites like Gumtree and Spare Room whose sole goal seems to be to confuse and annoy you. Gumtree no matter what you have searched for will be forever offering you office space at a good price. So much so you start to think can you just sleep on a horrible office carpet floor. This becomes your life for the next however long it takes. Everyday searching for suitable places within budget within area within not a shit hole parameters and you can guarantee after 3-4-5-6  weeks that if you do find that place that actually fits your scrupulously ridiculous living criteria you will more than likely get the response of, ‘sorry this room is already taken’ or ‘sorry we put the price wrong on the internet’  I've lost count the amount of people I have subtly suggested they, ‘TAKE DOWN THEIR FUCKING ADVERT IF IT'S NO LONGER AVAILABLE’. Also there's the brilliant moment you ring a man called Syed to see if the room that's far too small and far too expensive is still available, he will tell you it's not but he has many other appalling rip offs you should look at. Personal note here from someone who has been to view a Syed flat/house/cupboard, avoid at all costs. This man doesn't care about you or where you live, he will move you into the local toilet for £500 a month if he could and probably make you pay council tax. Then there's the people that right a whole spiel about how quirky and funny Mike in room 2 is and how Jane likes a bottle of wine on occasion and if you want that family homely feeling rather than just a room this is the place for you. In reality Mike is a self harming waste of space Jane is a full blown alcoholic that enjoys it when the landlord comes round to perve on her and that family homely feeling is a pet known as vermin! But the kicker with these sorts of people is they will ask you to tell us a bit about yourself, I hate this. Are you actually reading it? Oh he's sporty, move him in! Oh he likes going to the pub, Jane one for you! And you know if you do not do this there are 100 other desperate people looking for rooms  who will do it, so you have no choice,

Hi, Adam, 29, I won't kill you or eat your cheese in the fridge. I might eat your cheese. Something about sports and the pub. I may kill you.

Anyway you've found the place, you've hurdled Syed and the crazies that want a family environment, you've amazingly managed to view the place and even more amazingly it's not a cupboard under the stairs in Privet Drive for 900 a month. This is the first real pang of actual excitement. Anything before this point is completely misguided blind faith. But now you have something to grasp onto, this could be my new place. You start googling your route to work, looking at the area on street view, this could work, The Raving Paedophile looks like a lovely pub and it's only 25 mins walk! You agree you want the place, now comes the wallet burning moment, ‘that will be 650 for rent 650 deposit and then 300 in agency fees. So that’s a total of £1600 today if you want it. SORRY? You wail as you are wondering if that extra large £5 coffee was worth it this morning. Well to be fair this is only the money grabbing estate agents way of doing things, they’ll try and claim £300 in fees is warranted because you get all the documents in a nice blue folder and a DVD inventory, I can hear you oooing at this, hell I know I did. There's also the weeks worth of references which feels like they are delving into your living and working sole as they ask for bank statements and that landlords address that hated you from 4 houses back. Also this is covered in the £300 fee... so I'm paying for this? I'm paying for someone to look into whether or not I am good enough to live in a house they are renting out for someone else? I feel like a swear word is warranted here, I'll resist. Then again there's the private landlord way, I paid 200 quid to move into Bermondsey as deposit and then rent on top no fees no crap no nothing Saying that I only paid 50 quid to move into Plaistow and had to chase the landlord down to pay him rent for the first month. He then gave me that 50 quid back 3 months later because he felt bad that he'd made me sign a contract with him to live in his house, yes that actually happened! He would also turn up when I was in the bath and just wander straight into the house leaving notes of anger about the house being a dump, had a point to be fair.

OK you're in, you've made it, you’re skint but you're in. Ties broken (if you wanted to) with old house mates, you went through moving day weekend, which is a complete mess of do we have boxes? How much is the dickhead with the van going to cost? and just general heavy duty carrying of shit you thought you’d chucked out from one house to another. Night falls and you are exhausted and nothing has a rightful place, it's just boxes and bags everywhere. Best option, the local boozer (which by this point you have realised (I hope) ‘The Raving Paedophile’ is not the establishment you had had such I hopes for) to blow the remaining money you have. A week goes by and you still have no WiFi, or TV. Money is being haemorrhaged left right and centre, the washing machine still doesn't work, and post for Sarah-Jayne Harrington is clogging up the front door worse than a sex pest clogging up a girl's Tinder inbox after she stupidly swiped right.

Slowly though, slowly but surely the boat starts to right itself. You stop looking around thinking this place is a dump or this place could do with that or I wish we had TV or WiFi or more food or did more or did less and you get comfortable, your own home. Sure the housemates might be a little annoying but they are fun as well. You've  started cooking properly and stopped boozing every single night. You've got a good routine going here, feels like you've been here for ages. Then completely out of nowhere and for no real reason you wake up one morning in the middle of whatever point at whatever place and in whatever scenario and think to yourself about time I moved.

[micleadd7]

best man speech.

    Recently a very close friend of mine went at got himself hitched. This meant for me that I was to be a best man for the first time ever.

Amongst the mixture of feelings of joy and jubilation was the hard sticky gut wrenching thought of the best man speech. Years and years away it seemed at the time and the idea of doing a stag beforehand was vastly more important. But a year and a half disappeared in the blink of an eye and one messy weekend in Munich, with 12 blokes drinking, pissing and singing the German country away disappeared just as quickly. Fortunately for me I wasn’t the only best man, there was a little brother scenario involved as well. This helping to share the responsibility load.

With the Stag very much finished one of the boys turned to the groom and said see you in 5 weeks for the wedding. 5 weeks, 5 small little weeks. 35 days, 840 hours 2000… yeah you get the idea. It raced towards me. Before I knew it I had nothing written the weekend before the wedding. The younger brother had text me the week before.  ‘Hello mate, how’s the speech coming? I’ve written mine can we compare?’  My initial reaction was one of jealousy, I wanted to just respond with simply ‘You Bastard’ but I realised my own time keeping inadequacies are probably not his fault. I said yeah, sure, send yours and ill compare it with mine and then send you mine. A winning moment for me I think you will agree. With one hung over (from an appalling England game the night before) Sunday afternoon, I slaved ideas onto my girlfriends Mac, making coffee after coffee, flicking through Facebook pics for inspiration of drunken shenanigans and broken dreams of the grooms younger years. I’d known the guy for over 15 years and my mind was drawing complete blanks.  I opened a best man speech template on Google. Firstly I would like to thank the bridesmaids, Jesus you have to start with sentiment? I couldn’t even crack a joke let alone draw a smile, shed a tear? This was going to be difficult and id left it too late. The day went quicker than the hangover did. The week passed just as quickly, I added here and there, practised about 20 million times, printed it out at work, put it in a clear plastic wallet and clicked it into place. Packed for the wedding and drove up to the church the day before with 4 sheets of gold on A4 paper, never too leave my site until 4pm the next day.

I’m at the church the day before the wedding, already nervous. I am at the dinner the night before the wedding meeting people I will talk in front of tomorrow, already nervous. I get drunk but stay up most of the night, nervous.

The big day arrives and all my nerves the night before have washed away, suddenly remembering it’s my mate’s big day, not mine. He’s the one that should be nervous and he is, you can see. I take the time to chill him out but accidently knocking over a glass of water right at the front of the smiling and glaring congregation. Fortunately nobody really saw. The day goes without a hitch. Pictures are taken, vows are said, dreams are made it’s a really great wedding. The Bride and Groom look brilliant leaving the church via some sort of manmade motorbike.

Back to the reception, glass of champagne in one hand, Bux fizz in the other, ciggie in the other, phone in another, marriage certificate in my last remaining hand. I’d run out of holding devices for all the stuff that needed holding. Why hadn’t someone invented a pocket that holds a glass yet? After writing this notion down for later money making schemes I turned to see my parents greeting me with a big smile, my whole family do. All the stags are here, the bride’s family, old school friends. Why are you all here you arseholes grinning at me unbearably. ‘Nearly time now’ ‘Don’t fuck it up’ suddenly my nerves are back. Can’t I do the speech to the dog? He at least would be amused with the company, although I’m not sure how well he really knew the groom, or the bride or any of us for that matter, who invited this dog?

 I can’t talk to anyone; all these people are here mingling, sipping champagne, smoking cigarettes out on the lawn. The guys looking smart the girls looking classy, I’m a ball of nerves.

In we go sit down.  Everyone is now staring, the grooms up first. He’s nervous but starts strong; some joke about Lionel Messi it’s a clever opener, why didn’t I think of that. Maybe I could add some stuff. Adlib something that’s current, a good Rolf Harris joke perhaps. No that’s an awful idea. The Groom finishes his speech, he nailed it. Laughs, awws, cheers, presents. I got really good bottle of vodka which seemed like a great idea at this point.

He hands over to the best men. I am first out of the two. My hands shaking, my paper of gold wet from sweat. I look out into the room, so many faces. I take a big long deep breath and my gaze lands on a small boy of about 12-13 sat right in front of me. He is looking right at me, expecting. I return his stare with a worried look of my own. All I can think about is the 3rd paragraph, second sentence and how inappropriate my blowjob joke is.

Ladies and Gentleman…

[micleadd7]

Underground...

I do enjoy the underground and I most certainly would like to avoid the typical rant of how, there’s too many smelly annoying people getting on before you get off, listening to music to loudly whilst, sticking their elbow in your face and their briefcase into your downstairs mix up.  

I believe it is brilliant mode of transport in this busy city. I mean it can get you from London Bridge to Mordor, sorry Morden in almost a blink of an eye. Well maybe a small sleep of both eyes but still a lot quicker than a bus or bike or heaven forbid walking. Once you get used to all the different lines and colours and people and zones and prices and closures and delays its really quite simple. Heck you even get a free paper!  

Riding whilst pissed is my favourite. Slamming out some Foo Fighters on Spotify while sitting in a pregnant women’s seat, grinning to yourself because you know you are having much more fun than every other sober person, including the pregnant women now staring daggers at you. (Don’t make eye contact, that’s the key, complete deniability)

 I once played cricket on the train with a pair of socks, people sat in the seats were fielding as me and my mate booted the socks around shouting owwwwwzaaat! Granted it wasn’t as sophisticated as a game at Lords, but I did make a century! Hang time out of gladiators is another personal favourite, grab hold of the hand rails, shout  'contenders, ready'  and proceed to kick the shit out of each other while everyone looks on in ore. Well I say in ore, like I said before I am drunk. They are probably looking on thinking what a couple of wankers. Yehp everything from the glass edged jubilee line to the slower than slow Bakerloo I can’t think of a single thing wrong with it.

Well apart from that prick playing his music really loudly at 7-30 in the morning. So loudly I can’t read about the football in the metro!! Actually I can't even open the paper because there are so many people here. And that man smells bad, god really bad! I'm standing so close to him I can see all the little hairs in his beard! Ah its ok London Bridge, everyone will get off!! No wait more are getting on! It's so hot! There's another man playing really loud music! And even that is being muffled out by the preppy twats talking about Jonathon and how crazy he got last night! So crazy apparently! Crazy yah!

 Someone else has opened a paper on my back! I haven't opened mine because there's not enough room but this arsehole seems to think reading about the football that I am not reading about is more important than another human beings comfort, MY COMFORT!!!! Waterloo thank god, I was getting far too warm! Excuse me, no I need to get off as well I'm going now, get, look, you've caught my bag, my bag is stuck on your umbrella! Stop getting on I want to get off! Get out the fucking way! Fuck off!! Don't look at me like that, you were getting on before I had got off my only option was to stick my shoulders in! Right I need to get on the escalators, get some air, get to work! Oh fuck look at this queue!!! Why are 2 out of 3 escalators closed?! I can’t wait to get to work and moan about this! Then after work I can grab a beer put some music in and remember how much I love the underground…

[micleadd7]

Training

This morning, while you where all up working your different daily working jobs, or sleeping your daily sleeping jobs. I was doing a wonderful thing known as staff training. My boss, the incredible women she is has been banging on for weeks now, I've booked you all on for training, it will enhance your skills, you will get so much out of it aren’t I amazing… Lovely.

  At the end of the day it is half a day of. Granted the amount of work I would've been doing will still be waiting for me come 12:30 when the must have training is complete. But for 4 hours this morning I was scratching my arse nodding along and telling some bloke with a beard what to do with a brick. (Some genius solution solving exercise, id tell you about it but then you'd be stealing some of the very important must have training)

  I always find these things funny because, well lets face it the outcome is never somehow going to affect the physical working environment for an more than the few hours after the actual training. I’m fairly sure I’ve forgotten already if I’m an introvert or an extrovert or for that matter what either actually mean. I’m also sure that the new ways we learnt to deal with apparent issues in the working environment (which at the time of learning we all nodded along like Churchill dogs as if we couldn’t agree anymore, adding yes’s here and there so he could see that we where paying attention, when really we where all doing the exact opposite) will have completely slipped my mind the next time one of theses issues arrive. After all we where learning how to deal with motivational issues by telling a man 10 different uses for a brick, yes a brick. Unfortunately nobody arrived at the solution of him shoving it up his arse…

  I always think back to the ‘The Office’ in these scenarios as well. When the next motivational picture comes on on the 57 slide of two dogs pulling in the wrong direction I’m praying for a Ricky Gervais with a guitar and the hood of a Cadillac to burst in and lift the lid of boredom, sadly the world is not all a Ricky Gervais comedy. Still 4 hours of nodding and daydreaming leads to half a day off and upon my return to my very own Office my boss is waiting with a wide grin, holding the fort while our whole team was downstairs. 4 hours of bricks and solutions and motivation and slides and a numb bum and I want a coffees and my emails will be piling ups and when she asks ‘How did it go? You smile put on the bravest face possible and proceed to explain all the mystical powers you have learned over the course of the morning and how these will all be put into practice from now on, also does she have a guitar?