A day in the life of a half-baked journalist

Whilst taking coffee at Cafe Nero recently, I realised my life lacked a certian amount of excitement; so I went about remedying this. After much thought, I realised I would place myself in the role of a journo/web-board "admin" from a well know music magazine. I took notes at every given opportunity, and thus I present to you:

MY DAY AS A HALF-BAKED JOURNALIST

6am: I get up and shower.
6:20am: Tv, dressed and breakfast.
7:30am: Set off for work.
8:30 Get in to work, have morning meeting.
11am: See whats going on down at "HeavyMetalRARRRRR!" land. Oh look someones complained about Don again. Jesus Christ- look at all these PMs. IT'S THE INTERNET GUYS, DEAL WITH IT.
12pm: Time for lunch. Mom made me this sandwi... HEY! Did that guy just take a bite out of it? Fucking gross man- I hope I've got enough money for a Sub.
13:30pm : Afternoon meeting. No sub today, so will have to gnaw on stale digestives.
15:30: Recheck "HeavyMetalRARRRRR!" land. Post a questions thread for some half-baked Nu-Meta.... Shit, losing my cool. It's NWOASHIITYFUCKINGBOLLOCKS now isn't it? Can't have those kids knowing about our clever rebranding.
16:00: More PMs. Think I'll make up a wind-up account and fuck shit up.
17:00: That was fun. I bitched about my sandwich and totally pwnd the board with my endless wit. Do any of these people actually have a job? Time to hit the town!
18:15: Drinking with the mates. Good times.
21:45: I'm eating sushi and snoting coke off of a naked Japanese girl. I'm awesome

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This was just too much high-jinx for me. I don't think I could cope with this kinda of lifestyle.

"Hey kid! Disney lied to you!"

Recently on a messageboard, a post came up about beauty, and the image of a perfect life children have presented to them at every given opportunity. Now, the problem is, do you allow them to believe this over-bloated hype? Or do you break it to them that really doesn't work this way?

It would seem the best option is let them believe what they want, I however disagree. Just tell it to them straight up, and get the 14 year old mal-goth cum-train wreck phase out of the way early. Sure, you may get the door slammed in your face a few times, and piercing cries of "I h8 u!"; but just put this down to some minor collateral damage. If they break said door, take it out of their pocket money whilst rubbing your hands and chanting "Itoldyouso!Itoldyouso!"

And the lines you need next time your/a/someones/a friends child aspires to be a Princess or a heroic lion?

No, you won't become an beautiful swan.
No, you won't make a fortune in your life.
Even McShittyfucks won't give you a job.
Prince Charming won't rescue you.
Yes, you'll be an underage parent.
Yes, you'll be living in a shitty council house with 58 children and no better half.
Your only friends will be the dole queue, and a pie/chips + Tesco extra value beer combo.
You will not be remembered after you die.

It really is that simple. Remember, you've just done your good deed for the day by installing an aire of realism into the future generation. Infact, you should go to Taco King for tacos and shakes as a celebration.

Get a haircut you greasy hobo.

When I was younger, I used to think long hair was pretty cool. I look around now and see more and more guys with this mass of icky looking organic matter flowing from their scalps. Now, some do it as a "rock" things in their teens- fair play. Some do it to keep hold of their rapidly fading youth, and an oh-so-discreet cover up for a wonderful shiney bald patch.

Nice.

Truth be told, if you're a guy over the age of 20 (mental and physical) then there's no need for it. You do in fact look like a creature from the depths of bin central, which to be honest, isn't a flattering look. Unless you like attracting pondlife or several species of highly dangerous bacteria about your being.

Yesyes, I'm aware that the rule can be broken now and again, but the simple fact is; you don't need that much hair. So do us a favour and get sheered- then use your former hair wealth to help those less fortunate in the head-mop stakes. Not only will you be spiritually richer, due to your kind act, you'll also have taken the first step in looking like a vaguely productive member of society.

"But E! What about all those with long hair in well paid jobs?"

More power to them, but I really don't care. If I'm offered the choice of my hair, or a 40K increase in my earnings- I'll be the first one to take those blades of buzzing death and hack the whole lot to Kingdom Come. Now, not only am I richer than you, I can use my sell-out money to buy as many wigs as I want; until it grows back into something far more stylish.

Looking smart/40K > Stupid ethics.

When art goes bad

So, this is my shiney new blog; I'll update every couple of weeks/one a month or so. But today, I'll add two posts for you lucky people.

In recent months, I have attempted to be somewhat creative. When it comes to sound, I have little problem here, bar the odd artistic rut. However, I've started to get into graphics/digital art/those evil computer packages in a big way. I knocked up a few pieces, but something was missing.

My ability to actually draw.

I'm not actually that bad, more out of practise- so you can imagine my horror when I picked up my pencil recently and everything that came out was bad. And I mean the bad kind of bad- the one where grandma launches a surprise visit and stays for a week. An hour later it's still happening. I can only describe is as a spider with a quill. On E. Observe:



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WORK YOU STUPID BITS OF PROCESSED WOOD!