Thursday, July 26

Who's the big winner?

I am.

10 of those Great British Pounds deposited into my off-shore bank account.

I'm going Rolls Royce shopping this afternoon.


Monday, July 23

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Doctor.

Doctor who?

Doctor, put down the water soluble lube and the latex gloves.

Yes indeed, it's my annual medical this morning.

As usual I will be told what my blood pressure is, and I will say "Is that good?". They will answer "It's average", and my internal speech bubble will say "Average? I'm not an international-class cyclist so 120/80 is pretty damn perfect".

My good cholesterol will be winning the battle against the evil cholesterol, and my di-glycerides will be whatever they are supposed to be.

We'll sketch over my 2 year repetitive strain issue, as there appears to be no cure for it, and then I'll be told to exercise more.

While my new doctor prods my balls I'll look up at the medical certificates on his wall. But I won't be able to work out if he went to a school that advocates prostrate checking at over 40, or over 50 until he asks me to pull my underwear back up.

Good times!

Tuesday, July 17

And I'm using a medical term here

A few years back I volunteered to take part in a medical test with Boston hospitals, so periodically they send me requests to do other tests.

It's the hospital equivalent of Amazon's other people that purchased an xxxxx, also purchased yyyyy.

So I got a request yesterday to participate in an Ejaculatory Dysfunction trial.

Not erectile dysfunction, which as anyone who has watched football or golf on a Sunday afternoon knows, is one of the 3 problems American advertisers can solve for middle aged men.

The other 2 are, where to buy a luxury car, and which of the remaining scumbag investment companies you should lose your pension money with.

But ejaculatory dysfunction deals with ability, time, force and volume of ejaculation.

Or as BUMC states it.


So they had to use the 'street' name for ejaculate? And also explain that volume isn't just a button on your TV remote?

Then again, when you're only earning $559 for 20 weeks of measuring your jizz output, you're not going to attract the high flyers are you?

To my dismay, the auto-correct on this computer does not know that jizz is a word, but it has no problem with cum.

Finally, the good people at Google, and their search optimization algorithms will probably go silly with this posting. And teenage boys around the world will get the chance to read my blog ahead of visiting bigloads.com

As one teenager put it, "I just wanted to jerk off, and instead I got a stupid blog about Jimmy Saville, Craig David, and the First World problem of buying coffee in Starbucks ..."

Thursday, July 12

What a bunch of fucking idiots

The US Senate went off on one of it's hypocritical douche-bag blow-hard moves today when it was announced (to great fury!) that the US Olympic team's uniforms are made in China.

Who gives a shit? Unlike most countries, the US Olympic team is privately funded, in other words the government doesn't give them any money, so why don't they just shut the fuck up?

I'm sure the Senators ... who are publicly funded ... wear clothes that are all made in the US don't they?

Besides the real crime here is that they are wearing white slacks and berets. They look like a cruise ship dance troupe.

Sorry, I hate to rant about politics, but to be fair the Senate's fury was apparently bi-partisan. Happy they can finally agree on something. That something being how to pander to moronic patriotism.

Twats of the highest order!

Wednesday, July 11

Go Big or Go To Work

To paraphrase the great poet Whitney Houston,

"Give me one moment in time ... when I'm in a German engineered car and 30 yards away from a ramp".

This was my moment of glory, all that was missing was 2 guys walking a comedically large pane of glass into the street.

Seconds later a lycra-clad middle-aged jogger gave me the stink eye because she believed she had the right of way.

Don't you know who I am bitch? I'm the Dukes of Hazard, Evel Knievel and maybe Eddie Kidd (look him up), all rolled into one.

No, of course I didn't say that. Instead I profusely apologized (which means I held up my left hand and both eye-brows), and proceeded to drive to work at the recommended speed limit.

Hardly Thelma, or Louise.

Tuesday, July 10

2 chicks at the same time

This was supposed to be an adorable snap of little ducklings taking their first swim, but it looks like they are wading through sewage.

I had that moment as I held my phone over the body of water when my brain screamed "Don't drop the phone", but my uncoordinated hands didn't get the other message that the phone was also plugged into my headphones.

One snag of the headphones later and the phone spun in mid-air John Woo style, as the Gods decided in slo-mo whether the phone would drop into the pond or just ricochet off of the railings into my waiting hands.

The Gods chose the rail-bounce into my hands, at which point I fumbled and dropped the phone. Luckily for me, the phone did the opposite of what every piece of dropped toast in history has done, and instead landed face up and unscathed.

Monday, July 9

That's Why

Last week I decided it might be nice to take the train to and from work. Sunny day, warm evening, relaxing train ride, nice walk home etc.

It was an impromptu decision, so without a pair of earphones for my iPod, I ran over to the supermarket near work to pick up a cheap pair.

Turns out they did not have any.

Back at work I started to bitch how you couldn't buy headphones ... an item I see on almost every pedestrian today ... yet I could buy 12 ping pong balls.

My argument being, since when was table tennis more popular than listening to music?

Because a ping pong ball has 2 other popular uses.

Not being located in a Thai whore-house rules out one, but the other is to play that US college favorite 'Beer Pong'.

This explains why ping pong balls in Massachusetts are sold in the snack aisle.

Of course they should be sold in the alcohol aisle, but Massachusetts doesn't allow alcohol sales in supermarkets. I guess we cannot be trusted to buy cheap beer and peanuts in the same shop.

Sunday, July 8

Tour de Cambridge

I'm not the world's greatest cyclist.

Books that educate you how to be a good writer always suggest a snappy first line, so there's mine.

My cycling career was curtailed when I lied to my parents about biking past the edge of our street as a 6 year old. I hit the side of a van and told mum and dad that a garbage truck had backed over my bike ... on a Sunday.

I never had a bike again as a kid. If ever I asked, I was fed the line "We'll see", which is a polite euphemism for "No fucking chance".

A month ago I joined Anne on a Sunday fun ride only to find myself stuck in first gear. Consequently I had to make little effort to propel forward but at a top speed of about 5 mph.

So today after watching a Brit not win Wimbledon for the 76th consecutive year, I worked out the gears on my complex bicycle, and we headed for the other side of Cambridge to look at Mt Auburn Cemetery. It's kind of like Père Lachaise in Paris but without the corpse of anyone who fronted The Doors.

The cemetery is awesome, but after 6 miles of river promenade pedaling in 80°+ heat the last thing you want to do is climb a bunch of hills to check out the tombstones of rich 18th Century Cantabrigians.

Another 6 miles home, and a long cool shower later I'm trying not to treat today's ride like a ski trip.

I like skiing, but after a day on the piste (quiet at the back), I realize how easy it would have been for me to die. So I ski once every 10 years.

Saturday, July 7

Pipe down!

Those Buddhists are noisy buggers aren't they?


Tuesday, July 3

Tricky Question

Tomorrow is the day when the usually reserved American populace rolls out their, our (technically I am one now) big ol' starry and stripy flags.

So predictably, I went on a generic rant at work today about the 'one trick pony' aspect of fireworks. I dig them for a minute or two but then I'm done.

I was then asked if I liked jets doing fly pasts.

Survey said, "ugh urr"

But the follow up question was a real zinger. "What does inspire you?"

I lamely offered "nature", only to be reminded how I watch Anne tend to her garden each day from the elevated safety of our balcony.

I guess beautifully designed buildings and objects inspire me.

Music creates all levels of emotion in me.

I love film, art, photography, typography, fashion, but before you know it, your moving into a list at the bottom of a shitty resumé.

Keep fit, cooking and the novels of John Grisham do not inspire me. But references are available from my previous employers.

Travel is inspiring of course, but I suppose when you break it all down, what these lists really show is that I'm inspired by learning.

Just not learning about fireworks or jet flyovers.

Now don't be sad

In his seminal work, Meat Loaf argued that 2 out of 3 ain't bad.

I just took the "How British are you?" test in The Guardian.

I scored the same 66.6% that Mr Loaf argued wasn't bad.

Take the test here and discover just how British you are ... even if you are one of those Johnny Foreigners.