Monthly Archives: April 2013

How To Make It Through An Episode of ‘How I Met Your Mother’

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER

I’ve been a long-time supporter of mocking ‘How I Met Your Mother’, ever since the series 2 finale in which it became apparent that the programme is not a fleeting tale of  love in the Big Apple but instead, a fucking snore-fest desperately trying to make ‘fetch’ happen. Gretchen- it’s not going to happen.

If I was to meet Ted in the street, I would gleefully stab him to death with that yellow umbrella they dangle in front of us like a begging dog.

The only reason why I’m currently still watching was because I heard that Jason Segal, who plays Marshall, wanted to leave (who could blame him?) and I was hoping they’d kill him off. Slowly.

And before you think I’m a fussy viewer, let me tell you that I can’t wait for the launch of TLC tomorrow so that I can re-watch all of the first series of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, seeing as watching it on Youtube the first time round was difficult for me because I kept getting distracted by advertised clips for ‘Proof that Finchel is the Best Glee Couple Ever’ and ‘Mario Lopez Salsa Dancing’. In short, I’m too much of a moron to be fussy.

Anyways, here’s my top tips for surviving through an episode of ‘How I Met Your Mother’:

Preparing for the Inevitable

Ted will not meet the mother in this episode. Brief yourself with that information before watching, because it’s never going to fucking happen.

Laughing at the Name ‘Cobie Smulders’

Cobie Smulders: Fuck Knows Why.

Cobie Smulders: Fuck Knows Why.

Get your kicks where you can. ‘Cobie’ and ‘Smulders’ are terrible names just as they stand, but added together is enough for you to muster up a small laugh that also doubles-up as a nasal exhale. Thanks for that, Cobie Smulders.

Watching the Demise of Jason Segel

One of the only things that makes watching repeats of ‘How I Met Your Mother’ bearable is enjoying the uglification of Marshall. Bet you never noticed it before- well, now you fucking will. Its all I can think about when he drags his motherfucking tired skank ass all over that clearly-fake New York City set. It’s kind of like when you know a female lead just had a baby in real life  and is still carrying the baby weight, but what the fuck is Jason Segel’s excuse? What was he carrying, massive twins that he had to have delivered by someone who accidentally shaved his hair into the same style as Ted from Scrubs? Fuck sake.

Jason Segel

Ted Mosby vs Ted Bundy

Spending the episode laughing at online wankers who post on the ‘How I Met Your Mother’ will certainly make the 23-minutes of hell plus 7 minutes of slightly-less-hellish Wink Bingo and Tena Lady advertisements go a little bit faster. My favourite HIMYM-related past time is going on to the ‘I Love Ted’ sub-forum and making comparisons between Ted Mosby and his bad-boy serial killer namesake, Ted Bundy. People get really pissed off when you suggest that Ted met the mother when she was being beheaded by him for his corpse-basement collection.

Suit up, Ted! Seriously, because you're in court today on account of raping and killing loads of women.

Suit up, Ted! Seriously, because you’re in court today on account of raping and killing loads of women.

Turn Off the TV

And don’t worry, because you aren’t going to miss a thing. Well, aside from Ted living out the lyrics of ‘Haven’t Met You Yet’ by Michael Buble in the shittest sense that this concept could possibly achieve, and meeting the mother in the end who is sure to be played by someone equally as bland as the rest of the cast (Neil Patrick Harris included, who loses maximum cool-points for being in a relationship with David Burtka and is, therefore, annoying by association). My guess is Malin Akerman.

But I’m going to tell the ‘I Love Ted’ forumites that I bet Ted’s other half is the character that plays Ted’s daughter, who is actually sitting in his sex dungeon listening to the tale of how Ted met her own mother and told her that he was holding her daughter captive and forcing her to carry his children against her will as part of the sequel, ‘How I Strangled Your Mother Before She Could Go To The Police’. Just to give them something to complain about.

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The REAL Law and Order: SVU Drinking Game (No Drink or Fun Included)

Johnny and Sally Come-Lately Not Pictured

I love Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. Like many people, I’d like to cite the reason for my interest in the programme to be an innate curiosity for murder, but actually, I’m just collecting tips for the day I strike.

Anyways, I remember reading a while ago about Jenna Marbles’ Law and Order: SVU Drinking Game, complete with red plastic cups, grey marl USC jumpers, good looking twenty-something hipsters and a game of Beer Pong beckoning afterwards. The premise is to basically drink certain amounts of alcohol when frequent scenarios crop up throughout the programme, all the while drowning in a sea of your own smug self-satisfaction.

I choose not to play that game, in the same way Nickelback ‘choose’ to not be in with the in-crowd. I have, however, unknowingly created my own game that I act out during each new episode of Law and Order: SVU, and I’m going to share with you the instructions to join in if you, too, are a poor man’s Jenna Marbles.

Nickelback: Blinded by their own shitness

Nickelback: Blinded by their own shitness

Pre-Programme

Look forward to Law and Order: SVU all day because your life is empty.

Talking Bit At Start

Talk along with the voice-over (In the criminal justice system, sexually based offences are considered particularly heinous… etc.). Fuck it up mid-way by stumbling over the words and pretend it’s all just a bit laugh when really you’re dying inside.

Theme Tune

Continue to work on the song that you’ve been making up for the past year-and-a-half about the show that fits in perfectly with the theme song. Pause if needed (ignore disdain from spouse). Try not to get too disappointed if B.D. Wong’s name isn’t in this episode’s line-up, even though the absence of B.D. Wong means that this episode is going to be a total bore-fest, possibly completely set in court. If B.D. Wong’s name features, cheer because now you known the episode will be about a respectable-sort-turned-serial-killer. Brilliant! Remember to sing ‘Dick Wolf’ as the theme tune ends, because it fits perfectly and it’s hilariously profane.

So good, his character' name and actual name are the nearly the same. Or perhaps the writers are a bit racist.

So good, his character’ name and actual name are the nearly the same. Or perhaps the writers are a bit racist.

Episode Content

Spend the entire episode narrating to your annoyed partner, mimicking ‘Son of a Bitch’ every time Olivia mutters it on the way out the door when she hears that the perp has been up his old tricks even though he just made bail. Whenever the show decides to have an episode centred around Ice T (in a vain attempt to pretend they promote diversity even though according to SVU, the only non-black person that inhabits prison is a shamed white investment banker who raped January Jones in 2001 and went back for more in 2004), have no respect for him because you’ve watched his reality show (see ‘Pre-Programme’ section, which clearly shows that you have no life).

Maureen, Kathleen and/or Dickie

This game assumes you’re watching new episodes but what if you’re reading this from the past because you’ve just invented time travel through your laptop or you’re Hilary Duff starring in a Disney film about being a bit psychic? I imagine you’ll still be on the older episodes with Stabler and his stupid family that serve as nothing but a cockblock to the potential romance between Stabler and Olivia. If you hear the names Maureen, Kathleen and/or Dickie, down a bottle of wine in acknowledgement of what might have been.

Stabler, Maureen, Kathleen, Dickie and Jim-Bob

Stabler, Maureen, Kathleen, Dickie and Jim-Bob

End Credits

Get up and dance like you’re a good fella in 1988 with a moustache and a pair of stonewashed jeans, as the End Credits music is most definitely consistent with this genre/lifestyle choice. Remember to sing ‘Dick Wolf’ again at the end, because you’re just too fucking hilarious.

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How To Cope With Hayfever

hayfever

As if short Summers aren’t bad enough, the number of hayfever sufferers is rising rapidly, meaning that there really is nothing to look forward to in the empty abyss of life.

Caused by something vague to do with pollen but no-one really knows or cares what, hayfever is hardly a sexy disease like Genital Warts or Athlete’s Foot, but it’s a pain in the arse all the same. Mostly for everyone else surrounding the sufferer who have to listen to them say ‘I have the flu’ a dozen or so times, even though they do not having the flu and literally do not know the meaning of the word.

But nonetheless, symptoms such as runny nose, tight chest and general mummy’s boy-ness can stop you dead in your tracks, so here are my tips for coping with hayfever:

Whinging Endlessly

As a longtime hayfever sufferer myself, I find whinging endlessly about my symptoms and general hand I’ve been dealt does wonders for cheering me up. Whilst whinging endlessly does little to alleviate symptoms, it is very effective in raining on everyone else’s parade and thus, is a surefire way to cheer yourself up by being an utter cunt.

Punching Flowers

‘Getting it out of your system’ is great advice, whether you have hayfever or an actual problem. Get your rage out of your system by going around punching as many flowers in their big cheery bastarding faces as you can. Look at them sitting there with their flamboyant petals resting atop their proud stems- making a fucking mockery of you, that’s what they’re doing.

hayfever

Instant Relief

If your sinuses are giving you grief, get some instant relief by beheading yourself like they used to do in olden times. Sure, you’ll only be alive for a few moments to enjoy the sweet release of clear breathing before your headless body, stumbling and bewildered, crumples to the ground whilst your head, bobbing and screaming in a bloodbath of your own destruction runs out of oxygen, but isn’t that what life is all about? Living for those precious moments of true happiness? Yes.

Moving To A Place With No Sun

Those fleeting moments of sunshine are few and far between, but that big sunny fucker brings with him a world of hayfever-y bollocks. Cure your allergy to the sun by moving to a place with no sun, such as Katie Price’s innards or the bit in Super Mario World where you’ve beat all the other levels and you’ve only got to get through the stony kingdom of fire and bombs before trying to defeat Bowser and win the game, which you’ve given up your social life for five months to achieve just to be disappointed when all that happens when you win is the end credits roll up and that’s fucking well it.

Having Actual Problems

Having an actual problem will help to alleviate your hayfever suffering, as it will make you realise that you need to man up and not let your snuffly nose be the reason why you’ve pissed yours, and everyone elses’, chips up the wall. No problems? No problem! Just be like everyone else and invent some out of thin air, such as having a fight with someone on Twitter or lodging a formal complaint at the Asda helpdesk that you don’t agree with their charging-for-carrier-bags policy.

And say goodbye to hayfever for good. Maybe.

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Exercise Move of the Month: Being Convinced That Winter Will Be Eternal

The Local Asda.

The Local Asda.

It’s that time of the month again, folks! No, not that time. It’s time to get our legwarmers on and spark up a cigarette to buy yourself a few minute before you have to join in with group-lunges.

This month’s exercise is brought to you by life as we know it crumbling around us, and is called ‘Being convinced that Winter will be eternal’.

Step 1: Hang on by your weather-beaten fingernails to the thought that Winter is nearly over and you don’t have to partake in the endless misery of life beneath a blanket of grey fucking suffocation for much longer. Bring yourself up to gentle pace of yoga-like zen by nodding to convince yourself that the temperatures are gradually getting a little less cold, and do some cardio as you rush out to buy yourself a trench coat to replace that big wooly fucker you had to lug around for the whole of bastarding Winter.

Step 2: Here’s where the workout kicks into high-gear. Wake up mid-to-late-March to find that Mother Nature has sent you a signed, sealed and delivered turd in a box, for there is snow everywhere. After getting your heart rate up with some tears of anger and frustration, spend your morning with some bingo-wing busting activity, such as shovelling the snow off your driveway, realising that you shovelled your driveway-snow on to the main road and having to double-shovel all of that shit too, and pushing your car out of the driveway because the engine has froze.

Hooray for this moment.

Hooray for this moment.

Step 3: Feel your heart pounding as your boss rings to ensure that you weren’t planning to take the day off over a few centimetres of snow. Tone your core as you keep your mouth shut with all the almighty strength you can muster so that you don’t point out that not everyone lives at the office because their wife had an affair.

Step 4: Work up a sweat by going through the motions of an entire day swathed in the sort of attire that even N’Dubs’ Dappy would deem ‘too puffy’ and having to work doubly hard to get to work and back again. Work out those triceps by going into the office toilets and shaking your fists angrily at the thought of all of your colleagues who said they were ‘snowed in’ today, even though they, you and everyone else knows that it’s all a big lie.

Step 5: Give those finger muscles a good heave-ho by sitting on Facebook all night, updating the status of various snow-centric issues, such as ‘Electrics gone off’ and ‘More snow on the way tomorrow’.

Brilliant! Your updates are so useful.

Brilliant! Your updates are so useful.

Step 6: Build up your chesticles by having a heavy heart when the weatherman says ‘It seems like we’ll be having more snow for the forseeable future.‘ Tone your core by resisting the urge to trek to his whereabouts and stab him with your icicle-tears.

Step 7: Wake up and go through these same motions forevermore, for the sun has died.

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What Your Facebook Profile Picture Says About You

facebook

Your Facebook profile picture acts as the face of your online presence among your social circle, your family, your work colleagues and all those other cunts that you just can’t shake off. Therefore, it is undeniable that the average user sees this function as an opportunity to project suggestions on to the opinions that others’ have of them, and is a very accurate indicator of the sort of person you see yourself as. Unfortunately, as humans, our perception of how others’ perceive us is usually different to how we self-perceive, and ironically, the more we push a self-image on to others, the more counter-productive this act becomes; less is more.

But why did you pick your Facebook profile picture? What did you, consciously or unconsciously, want to be perceived as by others? And how do they really see you? Here’s a few of the most common types:

Facebook Profile Picture: Teenaged Girl Posing Provocatively

teenage girl

Desired Perception by Others: You are desperate to shed your ‘little girl’ image and to be viewed as attractive and mature, but not mature enough to not be a little bit whorish if you met the right person (anyone). Whilst your pose is provocative, you’ve projected innocence in your facial expression (something classy like a Marilyn Monroe pout) to create the illusion that you aren’t the whore that your choice of outfit says you are.

Actual Perception by Others: Whore.

Facebook Profile Picture Teenaged Boy Flexing Muscles

Skinny Guy

Desired Perception by Others: Like your female counterpart, you are also trying to elude your past image, suggesting to your virtual circle that you are a man. Strong, mature and intimidating, you really are a force to be reckoned with.

Actual Perception by Others: Hung like a budgie’s hardener. This image would be better portrayed if your mum wasn’t putting away your folded laundry in the background.

Facebook Profile Picture: Zany Group Photo Involving Fake Moustache

Hipsters group underware

Desired Perception by Others: Not only are you dead popular, but the fact that you can put up a public photograph of you NOT looking your absolute best- well, you’re cooler than Azealia Banks wearing a ‘Nerd’ t-shirt and drinking out of a jam jar. You are happy, carefree and modest, even though you’re actually much smarter, more intelligence and just plan better than the rest of us.

Actual Perception by Others: Hipster cunt. Take that insult and pass it around that bunch of try-too-hard kooks you call ‘homies’, too. Even though you’re white. And from Newcastle.

Facebook Profile Picture: Bingo-Wing Minimising, Holding in Stomach, Wide-Eyed Facial Expression at Saturday Night Pre-‘Going Out’ Drinks In Friend’s House

Danielle Lloyd

Desired Perception by Others: Like Kimora Lee Simmonsyou’re a Mogul, you’re a Model, you’re a Mom. In other words, you juggle a part-time job, looking after your children that you’ve each named after the Kardashians and you still have time to get your nails and ‘stenshins did every fortnight. You’re handling your shit, and you’ll be damned if you’ve got all dolled up and lost four and a half pounds with Weightwatchers and not upload a picture of how gorgeous you are to Facebook.

Actual Perception by Others: Your friend’s home décor looks like a peacock savagely stabbed a leopard to death with a stick of candyfloss.

Facebook Profile Picture: Couple

whitney

Desired Perception by Others: Look how happy we are.

Actual Perception by Others: Your kids aren’t going to have much in the looks department

Facebook Profile Picture: Picture of Sunset/Beach/Snow scene/Other travelling photo

backpacker

Desired Perception by Others: Not only will people see how well-travelled and cultured you are, but the fact that you aren’t the main focus, and instead a much-smaller piece of the overall picture (you’ve obviously had to have been in the picture as proof that you were there and didn’t just steal it off Google Images) suggests that your mind is not self-centric but instead, focused on bigger, world issues. You see yourself as easy-going, philosophical and a free spirit.

Actual Perception by Others: Gimp.

Stay tuned for more, hypocritical judgements on others when I’ve definitely been guilty of the majority of these in the past (now).

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How To Be A Teenaged Internet Millionaire

Kids today.

Kids today.

Nick D’Aloisio hit the headlines last week when he became a teenaged internet millionaire by selling his App, Summly, to Yahoo! for around $30 million. The App summarises news stories in one sentence for smartphone users, which seems like he’s just claimed to have invented ‘the headline’, but it has a few other bits and bobs in it. Allegedly.

Anyway, if you want to become a teenaged internet millionaire, here are my hints and tips to follow in the footsteps of Nick D’Aloisio. With these foolproof strategies, you’ll be snorting cocaine at a party full of people who are only using you for your money in no time.

Outcast

Being an outcast in high school will stand you in good stead for the future as an internet millionaire. Attain outcast status by standing a few feet from the popular clique in the school hallway and stare longingly at head cheerleader, Susie Smileypants, knowing in your heart that she doesn’t even know, or care, what your name is. When Susie Smileypants’ boyfriend, big man on campus Joey Jocktrunks, calls you out for stalking his woman in the school cafeteria, stick up your fists and move them around saying, ‘Why I oughtta…‘ over and over again until he knocks you out in one clean dig.

Furthermore, having no life and nothing of any social value is key to becoming a teenaged internet millionaire, as, when all your peers are out having fun, you’ll be busying yourself at home working on your App and unknowingly embarking upon a journey that will one day lead you to find comfort in dismembering prostitutes and stashing them in little ziplock bags in your gold-plated freezer. Achieve your lack of social life by being such a pedantic arsehole that the only time the cool kids converse with you is when they are calling you ‘Poindexter’ and stealing your lunch money.

Moneygrabbing Wee Bastard

Poindexter.

Poindexter.

Being a moneygrabbing wee bastard will inspire you to dabble in get-rich-quick schemes, all of which are definitely going to make you a teenaged internet millionaire. While you may not be born with the personality defect that makes you a moneygrabbing wee bastard, you can hone your moneygrabbing wee bastardness by being so unappealing as a human being that you need money to give you worth. Once you’re hungry like the wolf, you’ll start chasing the dollar. After all, them bitches and hoes ain’t cheap.

Half-Arsed Idea

No teenaged internet millionaire would be complete with a half-arsed idea to combine with youth so that people who use Yahoo! as their primary news source will be all like, ‘OMG he’s younger than me but he has more money! LOL.‘ Basically, in order to create your idea, just take someone else’s already successful idea and copy it, being careful to say ‘It’s the new…‘ in front of it (i.e. ‘It’s the new Facebook’). Then ask mummy or daddy to get their venture capitalist friends involved so that they can pay other people to develop your idea while you play the XBox with Ashton Kutcher.

Glory-Thief

Seeing as you are a teenager and therefore, probably thick as pigshit, is is highly unlikely that you will be able to create anything of actual worth by yourself. However, as with the case of Nick D’Aloisio, you need not make reference to the highly-skilled group of adults who actually developed your half-arsed idea- instead, taking any and all glory for yourself. After all, you didn’t lose your anal virginity to Ashton Kutcher for nothing, did you?

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