<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029</id><updated>2011-11-28T00:04:50.222Z</updated><category term='dog training'/><category term='Yamaha'/><category term='Kids'/><category term='28 days later'/><category term='Motorcycle'/><category term='street'/><category term='Children'/><category term='Yamaha XJR1300'/><category term='collie'/><category term='driveway'/><category term='antisocial'/><category term='animal chiropractor'/><category term='visitors'/><category term='parking'/><category term='Neighbours'/><category term='Metallica'/><category term='cars'/><category term='victor meldrew'/><category term='Motorbikes'/><category term='Parenthood.'/><title type='text'>Day To Day Crap</title><subtitle type='html'>Random things that mean fuck all.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-55230157777561198</id><published>2010-06-30T01:22:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T01:27:35.514+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Why is it...</title><content type='html'>In cop films, when the cops break down the door, and the dealers are flushing the drugs down the bog, that the bog is always free?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I need to flush away the drugs, man"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fuck off, I'm taking a shit"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y37/flip_/istock_000007850752xsmall1237551364.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-55230157777561198?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/55230157777561198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2010/06/why-is-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/55230157777561198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/55230157777561198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2010/06/why-is-it.html' title='Why is it...'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-549104982428759287</id><published>2010-04-15T17:02:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T17:11:54.486+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>"Should I have kids"?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.boston.com/yourlife/family/blog/baby-crying%20jpg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 432px;" src="http://www.boston.com/yourlife/family/blog/baby-crying%20jpg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="postbody"&gt;This was asked by a fella on a bike forum that I use, so I thought I'd share my reply in case other men where wondering the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Should I have kids?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="postbody"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You'll have some fcuk ugly child (that you'll be convinced is  beautiful, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;but no one else will see it&lt;/span&gt;)  as your mobile phone &amp;amp; PC background and feel the need to bore the living fuck out  of people with baby stories &amp;amp; photo's. You'll be telling people how  advanced it is for it's age (whilst they're sat there watching it walk  in to the door frames 'n' shit).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a bloke, you don't need kids. You need a vehicle, someone to  shag, a dog and a shed".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="postbody"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this saves some poor fella a lot of money and hassle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-549104982428759287?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/549104982428759287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2010/04/should-i-have-kids.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/549104982428759287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/549104982428759287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2010/04/should-i-have-kids.html' title='&quot;Should I have kids&quot;?'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-2735021062220631425</id><published>2009-10-31T19:59:00.013Z</published><updated>2010-06-30T01:30:25.217+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motorcycle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motorbikes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yamaha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yamaha XJR1300'/><title type='text'>"What bike do you have"?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/SvVuIu4ETcI/AAAAAAAAADY/9NQ62NFKoIQ/s1600-h/DSC00317.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/SvVuIu4ETcI/AAAAAAAAADY/9NQ62NFKoIQ/s200/DSC00317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401344424401980866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I answer with a question. "Do you know your bikes?" If the answer is no, then I just answer "Yamaha". It's when they ask what kind of bike it is, that they start to feel stupider*. Is it a sports bike? No. You can see the sparks of fear and confusion from the brain, flashing behind the eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: It's a muscle bike.&lt;br /&gt;Noob: [Blank face]&lt;br /&gt;Me: It's a road bike?&lt;br /&gt;Noob: [Blank face]&lt;br /&gt;Me: It's a naked bike?&lt;br /&gt;Noob: [Blank face]&lt;br /&gt;Me: It's black.&lt;br /&gt;Noob: I've heard of an R1 I think it is. And GSX..... R. Is that right GSXR?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah, that's right but it's nothing like those bikes.&lt;br /&gt;Noob: [Blank face]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when non bikers ask. I think I'll get a R1 or a GSXR just to make the conversations easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Yes I know that stupider isn't a real word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y37/flip_/DSC00317.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-2735021062220631425?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/2735021062220631425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-bike-do-yo-have.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/2735021062220631425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/2735021062220631425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-bike-do-yo-have.html' title='&quot;What bike do you have&quot;?'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/SvVuIu4ETcI/AAAAAAAAADY/9NQ62NFKoIQ/s72-c/DSC00317.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-1734709957150755277</id><published>2009-09-07T01:35:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T02:20:59.207+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='street'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Neighbours'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driveway'/><title type='text'>Use your driveway!</title><content type='html'>I live in a small street with 8 houses in it. A couple of of these houses have more than 1 car. Why the fuck can't these people put these cars on their driveways? One of these pricks even blocked the street the other night because he's too lazy to manoeuvre on to the driveway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope someone drives into that yellow piece of shit Rover across the road from my house, I really do and when it happens #I'm gonna laugh like a mother fucker#. Use your fuckin' driveway. Tell the fella that owns the house to use the driveway as well. You could park about 5 cars on there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lesbian with the blue car. Use your fuckin' driveway. It'd take 10 minutes to take that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;one&lt;/span&gt; piece of wood off to make your gates function again. (As a side note, tell your girlfriend to cycle to work faster, she's got a arse like two giant bean bags in a sack).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl with the fat arse next door, tell your Dad to stop fuckin' about with the back garden and use those paving stones to make you a driveway. You have the space! Infact give your Dad a break and get that fella to do it for you. You know, the one that turns up once a month and stays for a few days. I assume you're shagging him. Make him do something useful... Build a fuckin' driveway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the smack rat that parks at the bottom of the road. Use you're own fuckin' street, you filthy drug addicted wanker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dodgy fella at the bottom of the road, the one who grinds up cars in the middle of the night... Use your fuckin' driveway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be kind to your neighbours, people, and use your fuckin' driveways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-1734709957150755277?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/1734709957150755277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/09/use-your-driveway.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/1734709957150755277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/1734709957150755277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/09/use-your-driveway.html' title='Use your driveway!'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-6117763442646956996</id><published>2009-07-27T23:49:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T00:10:17.619+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog training'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animal chiropractor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='collie'/><title type='text'>ASBO Bitch Part 3</title><content type='html'>Well after two lessons, the trainer informed us that Megs back was fucked. Told us the accident she'd had a year or more earlier had caused more damage then we thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pain aggressive" she called it. She's constantly in pain, which in turn, causes aggression. She referred us to a animal chiropractor, we made the appointment but I decided to ask a vet who we will call 'Stinkwheel' what he thought. Stinkwheel taught me a few things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If the bone the trainer said was damaged was, in fact damaged, Meg would be dead.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Animal chiropractors are human chiropractors that have done some bullshit course (There's no formal qualification).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;illegal&lt;/span&gt; (here in the UK anyway) for an animal chiropractor to see your animal (dog, horse, cat, whatever) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;without&lt;/span&gt; permission and or referral from your vet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;So we spoke to our vet and guess what, there's nothing wrong with Meg. Meg is fine. I have a feeling the trainer and the chiropractor maybe scratching each others backs... Our vets reason for Meg barking, snapping etc "She's a dog, She's doing what dogs do". Good enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So no more 'professional' training for Meg. On our vets advice, the missus is now doing the training. She bought a spray collar and it's working a treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying all dog trainers are bad, but I am saying don't believe everything they tell you. Especially medical advice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-6117763442646956996?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/6117763442646956996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/asbo-bitch-part-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/6117763442646956996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/6117763442646956996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/asbo-bitch-part-3.html' title='ASBO Bitch Part 3'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-1639556363215020987</id><published>2009-07-14T23:03:00.016+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T00:50:01.587Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='28 days later'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='antisocial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victor meldrew'/><title type='text'>When did I get so bitter?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sl0Ef3oK0kI/AAAAAAAAACo/S_uWvAXCxrc/s1600-h/meldrew.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 243px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sl0Ef3oK0kI/AAAAAAAAACo/S_uWvAXCxrc/s320/meldrew.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358444077195645506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point over the last 3 years I have become bitter, uncaring, antisocial, indifferent to most things and hateful to other matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it reversible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What day did I wake up a 30+ year old Victor fuckin' Meldrew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to love people and their company but now, I'm happier on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened over the last three years. I think it's because the more people I meet the less interested I am in them (people in general). I've met and known a lot of people but I consider people increasingly annoying. I'd love to win the lottery, so I could hole myself up in a house where I'd have everything and would seldom need to converse with people. I used to be sympathetic and nice, now I view most people as dicks. If the worlds population died tomorrow and left my and the missus (and the dog) alive I'd be happy as fuck. I'd grow veg, hunt animals (once I'd robbed the supermarkets dry) pillage petrol stations. It'd rock. Imagine 28 days later without the zombies. Bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've thought of some people that'd have to live, damn it. The doctors that keep my missus alive, the people that service her dialysis machine, the people that make the drugs and supplies that keep her alive. Hmm I'd have to let people at the electricity board live so they can provide power to keep the dialysis machine going. Maybe I'd let a small community live. But they wouldn't be allowed to contact me. Actually, hopefully the missus would have a new kidney by then, and a life time supply of kidney conditioning drugs, in which case the people I just mentioned could also die. Tobacco and lager manufacturers... hmm. I might even want to engage in conversation with someone I actually like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The downside to this would be no new films, CD's etc, but less face it, the classics have already been made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pfft. Who am I kidding? It just wouldn't work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-1639556363215020987?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/1639556363215020987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/when-did-i-get-so-bitter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/1639556363215020987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/1639556363215020987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/when-did-i-get-so-bitter.html' title='When did I get so bitter?'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sl0Ef3oK0kI/AAAAAAAAACo/S_uWvAXCxrc/s72-c/meldrew.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-4527785832744897080</id><published>2009-07-03T23:21:00.019+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T02:39:51.253Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Metallica'/><title type='text'>"It's not as good as puppets"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/SvzBbXvCw2I/AAAAAAAAAGo/leYdlHteAlY/s1600-h/metallica1986.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 136px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/SvzBbXvCw2I/AAAAAAAAAGo/leYdlHteAlY/s200/metallica1986.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403406328909710178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years that's all I've heard in Metallica conversations and to be honest I couldn't give a fuck what you think, because that's a stupid point to make. Why compare something to something else that was xx years ago? I've even heard this shit from kids that weren't even alive when Master Of Puppets was released! Would you be happy if they re-recorded the puppets album? Is that what you want? What would be the fuckin' point of that? 1986 was long time ago and people change. The band members changed mentally and so did the mentality of the die hard fans. People chilled a little as they got older and tempo wasn't as important as it was. The need for good riffs is still there and we're still getting them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The majority of Metallica haters are elitist dicks that still think it's the 80's. These are the sort of people that tell me to listen to the latest Slayer CD. So I do and guess what? It sounds like everything else they're done. 20 odd years of playing the same sounding music. Fuck me, Slayer must be bored of it by now surely? South of heaven, reign in blood. The two best Slayer albums in my opinion, but once you own them there really is no need to buy/download the others because they sound the fuckin' same. "let's play the palm muted E string as fast as we can, throw in some melodic parts and Tom will shout a lot" (not a bad formula to be fair) must have been the plan before each song was written. I'm not trying to slag Slayer off, I like the two albums I mentioned and I own them. I own a couple of their other CD's but I don't listen to them because SOH and RIB are much better then the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is there are a few bands (Slayer being one example) that still sound the same now as they did at the start of their careers but why bother? When, as a child you put your hand under your arm pit and make that farting sound, it's hilarious and you do it until the novelty goes but it seems there are adults still pit farting and finding it novel. Strange. Even stranger, still getting paid for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Metallica have done some shit tracks, this a fact. Listen to Load and Reload (Load was the reason I stopped listening to Metallica until I grew the fuck up and realised that it wasn't shit it was just different) and you'll find a few there mixed in with some blinding heavy rock. St Anger was a fuckin' shame, I won't dispute that. (It's probably the only Metallica album not to make it on my Walkman phone). Although I feel that was an album for Hetfield to understand and nobody else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From thrash to heavy rock songs Metallica are still putting out decent material, not being afraid to try different shit. Selfish musicians have always been a favourite of mine, playing what they want to play and not what the fans will pay money for time after time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If Cliff was still in Metallica their music wouldn't have changed" I bet it would have. There is no way a musician like Cliff would have played the same stuff for 20 odd years without trying different things. No way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if "It's not as good as puppets" is your contribution in these Metallica discussions then I now know every opinion that will fall out of your mouth... "Sell outs" "Burton was better than Newstead" etc, etc  But maybe they're subjects for another blog... maybe, maybe not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VEEjscJzdM0&amp;hl=en_GB&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VEEjscJzdM0&amp;hl=en_GB&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-4527785832744897080?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/4527785832744897080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-not-as-good-as-puppets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/4527785832744897080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/4527785832744897080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-not-as-good-as-puppets.html' title='&quot;It&apos;s not as good as puppets&quot;'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/SvzBbXvCw2I/AAAAAAAAAGo/leYdlHteAlY/s72-c/metallica1986.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-2857950195479898386</id><published>2009-07-03T19:49:00.013+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T22:31:12.818+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog training'/><title type='text'>ASBO bitch part 2: The leader of the pack</title><content type='html'>We (The Mrs and I) took the hound out for a walk to practice the techniques the dog trainer had given us. We're keeping her muzzled on a very short lead and  and every time she pulls, you yank the lead to slow her pace or get her to sit. (She needs to walk next to us and not infront of us as a pack leader).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walk. Yank. Sit. Walk. Yank. Sit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a long time to walk her today. In the woods it was hot, the rain was coming through the canopy so it was humid as fuck. I think I walked her for 10 minutes before giving the lead back to the Mrs. Too much fuckin' about for an impatient twat like myself. The Mrs has the right amount of patience for tasks like this, which is great as far as I'm concerned. It means someone else is doing the work and I'll get a dog that can be controlled  at the end of it all. In theory, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fight for dominance started long before yesterdays training did. She thinks she's the boss. She also thinks that she is male due to getting her spayed to early and leaving her full of male hormones. I wouldn't mind but the reason for buying a bitch in the first place was to have a dog that the Mrs could handle easily. She'll sit, walk and is doing quite well to be fair, until the frustration kicks in and she becomes vocal. Keep the bitch sat and she'll soon realise that the vocal protest is pointless and she'll carry walking a little better than the time before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fight for dominance is an interesting one. I bought you with my hard earned cash that puts me in charge. Dogs don't see it like though. Sadly. Even if they did understand the concept of ownership and purchasing then you would still get the barking and whimpering which would translate to "I didn't ask to be bought"... like a hormonal dick head teenager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again she's behaving herself after our lesson in discipline. Discipline is a strange concept to a dog that has been allowed to do whatever the fuck it wanted for the year and half we've owned her. It's very early days but when she behaves she still has her character which is good because I'd hate to turn her into a Stepford dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-2857950195479898386?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/2857950195479898386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/asbo-bitch-part-2-leader-of-pack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/2857950195479898386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/2857950195479898386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/asbo-bitch-part-2-leader-of-pack.html' title='ASBO bitch part 2: The leader of the pack'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313414266664744029.post-8070845777704290288</id><published>2009-07-02T21:11:00.010+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T02:32:24.629Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog training'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='collie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='visitors'/><title type='text'>ASBO bitch</title><content type='html'>A year and a half ago we bought a dog, well a bitch if you want to be arsey about it. She was a  9 week old Collie, and at roughly six months old the decision was made to get her spayed because everybody said "it'll calm her down". The day after the operation there was a fuckin' monster in the house. Calm her down, my arse! It was as if somebody had flicked a switch but instead of on and off it was asleep and monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the furry little fucker, I really do but it's only matter of time before she hurts someone to be honest, so it's up to us to try and prevent that. The problem she has in my eyes is that she has a dislike to other dogs and people. Fuck all wrong with that in my opinion because I'm exactly the same, I also hate dogs and people. She also barks like fuck when people leave the house because she trying to keep the pack together. But that's where we differ. I couldn't care a fuck if you have decided to leave my home and go on your way. Off you go, you told me your leaving so don't put your jacket on, perch on the edge of the couch for 10 minutes and wait for me to ask 'why don't you stay for another coffee/beer/ciggie' because there's a fuckin' good chance that it isn't going to happen. Nothing personal, just stay or go don't fuckin' hover there waiting for me to beg for your company, longing to be needed. But the dog on the other hand...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meg (the dog) has decided it's her job to keep the pack together. Now unfortunately for us 'the pack' is myself, the better half and every other fucker I know that comes into our house. The second they say they're leaving, her ears prick up and the eyes widen and the barking starts. Does the visitor leave house quickly so Meg can calm down and give my ears a rest? No do they fuck, they stay perched on the couch, or in the living room door way. If I know you well and see you regularly  then I trust you to see yourself out without pilfering the kitchen on the way out or steal a jacket from the coat stand as you go through the door. If I don't you know very well then I'll see you to the door, it really isn't a problem. Don't be afraid to visit me, I'll either come out on to the drive and chat in the fresh air, sit in the house or in the back garden on the picnic table. All of these places are acceptable talking places to me, so don't go away paranoid if I don't invite you in, it's just the way I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Dog training. The first thing learned at dog school is do not get your bitch spaid before her first season (that's period, rag week to the non dog people) because it fucks them up hormonally. Our dog has too many male hormones which is where her aggression comes from. That combined with the fact she suffers from nervous aggression. She'll be trained to calm down down when told to, which will give my ears a rest, but one of the things I learned today was the aggression will never go away. Thank fuck for that. A dog with no attitude is like a slut without a fanny. I mean, what'd be the fuckin' point of that? Her breed - Collie makes her naturally aggressive, her colour Merle, makes her naturally aggressive, her blue eyes add to the aggression. We bought the most evil Collie the farm had. Maybe that's why she was more expensive than the others?  A dog that'll only calm down when we tell it. Now that I like!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dog training is really easy by the way. You sit in the car smoking ciggies whilst the missus does all the work. Well OK that's not strictly true. The missus was supposed to do the training and I was only there to observe the course to have a say in whether or not I wanted this particular woman to train said dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meg saw 12 dogs and kicked off. We knew she would so had her on a lead and muzzled. I was going to make a small straight jacket, muzzle her and wheel her in on a hand trolley that I bought from B&amp;amp;Q but I couldn't teach her to say "toughened your nipples didn't it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trainer took Megs lead, shouted at her for barking. Meg (whos's never been on a lead or shouted at by a stranger) jumped up and with her front teeth, bit said trainer on the tit. A must admit that it brought a smirk to my face. I wasn't pleased with the aggressive act in itself, but an admiration for her attitude I think I'll always have. "Fuck you I am what I am".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit though, she has been much more manageable around the home after one lesson and that will make life easier for us. (I will admit right now that already I am missing the play fighting, she really does fight me well) But I am looking forward to her only behaving when we tell her to. So don't perch on my couch for too long hey.&lt;img hidden="true" style="border: medium none ; position: absolute; z-index: 2147483647; opacity: 0.6; display: none;" src="data:image/png;base64,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%3D" id="myFxSearchImg" height="24" width="24" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2313414266664744029-8070845777704290288?l=shittyblogthing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/feeds/8070845777704290288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/asbo-bitch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/8070845777704290288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2313414266664744029/posts/default/8070845777704290288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shittyblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/07/asbo-bitch.html' title='ASBO bitch'/><author><name>Charlie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08943790208774078989</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dQVEGHt3Qj0/Sv21daJazyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Z31yVgFWIw0/S220/headUpArse+-+Copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
