Well now, didn’t that last post generate what can only be described as some ‘interesting’ traffic?!! In hindsight since readers of blogs often reflect the author who writes them, I shouldn’t really have been surprised that most of you had narrow-minded dirty little questions for me – and what I first envisaged as a high-brow ‘get to know the assassin’ post degenerated from the first comment into a free-for-all based around my past sex life. Le sigh. Still, it was an absolute blast and generated four or five days of good traffic for the site so at least my inner narcissist was suitably appeased. Today I’m going to touch on several subjects all in one post, as the title may have hinted at. The mindless prattle part comes from how I see half of what I write, so there’s nothing new to report on that front darlings. So in no particular order, let me briefly touch on Wag’s Wives (see, it’s sounding dirty again already!!).
Those of you who have read my posts rather than skimmed the funny pictures (the second often being the more advisable route) and those of you who have perused my blogroll will be familiar with Wag the Dad, who has just finished hosting the inaugural Mrs WagtheDad Beauty Pageant. In possibly the most legitimate excuse for getting women online to send him pictures of themselves without technically violating any stalking laws, he solicited entries from his readership which were judged by a panel of four experts (cough) who made the decision for him, neatly absolving him of any blame and/or work on his part. At his invitation, I was one of those judges. I shall say no more on the subject of the entrants, except to mention the very high standard of entries across the board, but you can go and investigate the whole scenario over at his site, beginning here. I mention this today for two reasons:
1) So I have my own chance to mention the winners, thus currying favour with them and inflating their helium-filled ego balloons to bursting point. So the heartiest of congratulations to Jaime and Jen, co-winners (bi-winning?) of the title of Runner-Up in this year’s contest, who both put up a great fight to the top, involving wit, talent, humour and blatant judge-bribery. None of which, sadly, was enough to sway things for either of them since they were handed their (award-winning) asses on a platter by this year’s winner, the wonderful Johi from Confessions of a Cornfed Girl. Madam, any woman who wins a contest of beauty dressed in a suit which can only be described as ‘pathologically violent green’ is fully deserving of her title, and we look forward to seeing how you manage to turn this on Wag and make him regret he ever tied his name to yours for a year!! Congratulations to you all!!
2) These ladies were not the only ones who entered. ALL of the entries were of a comparable high standard, and the result was a close one. I can only assume the above named entries had bribery involving alcohol going on behind the scenes, because there was a tough time in the Assassin house deciding the grades. So congratulations to those of you who didn’t place as well, both for being uber-lovely and for having the stones to enter in the first place. Hopefully this now removes the likelihood that one of these crazy shiv-carrying nutters will jump me and push me under my train to work. Still, I’m watching my back for the next few weeks!…..
The next noteworthy piece of news today is about another in a long line of rap battles I seem to keep getting involved in. For the record, I DO NOT THINK I AM VANILLA ICE – for a start, whilst undeniably questionable over the years my hair has NEVER looked that bad. Also, I can rap. Well, a little anyway. The blame here falls squarely on another Wag contestant, Feryx Lim, who dragged me into this battle kicking and screaming in protest all the way (ahem). Possibly in an attempt to curry favour re:her entry into Mrs Wag, she interviewed me for her blog. One of her questions referred to the now-legendary rap-battle between my self and RADventures over the defence of Shakespeare, and she asked me if I would write her a little rap, which I duly obliged with. When the interview was up, she emailed me back her rebuttal, also in rap form. Never one to dodge a word-based challenge I responded, and before I knew it she was asking for permission to post our ‘discussion’. I should have known better after my spectacular failure of judgement on my last post choice, but I said yes. Some mild rap warring was thus posted on her site, and I had already disposed of one competitor when into the ring stepped Becca. I can only assume that she misconstrued some of my ‘dope lyrical flow’ as genuine invective, because she brought the game to me, and brought it HARD!! Soon, worried we may be about hunt each other down and ‘pop’ some ‘caps’ at each other, Feryx called uncle on the whole game and asked us to play nice. So (despite her post claiming to have ‘won’ the battle), we chatted via Twitter and agreed to make up and be friends. So hat’s off to Feryx for putting me in not one but TWO consecutive posts on her site, and most of all to Becca, for making me happy as a proverbial hog by giving me a challenge I could sink my teeth into. So now I’ve told you all about that, we can move on to the final part of today’s blog.
What?? You want what?? A link to the (C)Rap Battle??? No, you don’t want to read that, do you? Oh. Oh, ok. Very well then. For those of you not easily disturbed either by a white boy rapping, or rude words and ‘disses’ on ‘Yo mamma’ and the such-like, travel ye hence to this link, but don’t say I didn’t warn you – no holds were barred in the making of this battle. Becca and I make Tupac and Biggie sound like a pair of Baptist ministers discussing world peace. At least you’ll see why eventually we BOTH (ahem) won one of these :-
And so finally to ‘Past Lives’ – the last part of today’s blog and a source of both pride and pain. Well, bruised feelings anyway. Recently, I indulged my creative writing side and entered a competition that could potentially lead to four short essays by yours truly being published. In a real book and everything. Except the notification date was yesterday, and I won precisely – squat. Boo Hoo, the nasty author people won’t publish me this time. However, since I enjoyed writing the essay so much, I’m going to include it here so you all get the chance to read it at least. It was based around the question “What would you say to your 20yr old self if you had the chance to have that conversation?” and here is my entry… (And thank you Jaime for your support )… 🙂
TO MY TWENTY YEAR OLD SELF
From my vantage point I can see you a short way off, sat beneath an overhanging Ash on a dilapidated park bench, long curly hair distressed by the wind and battered acoustic guitar clutched to your chest like a talisman of some long-lost faith. I can’t see from here but my money would be on you picking at the chipped and fading green paint, lost deeply in some inner dialogue with yourself. I know this because you are me, and I am you. There is a difference between us though – you are 20 years old, while I am now 35. You have yet to experience anything truly momentous in your life despite what you may think, whilst I have just been presented with the most unlikely and significant moment in my life.
I have the opportunity to talk to you, to have one of those unique moments only normally seen in science fiction movies, a moment in time where I can offer advice to my younger self that could help me change the course of my life that has gone before. If I could just convince you that this is real, is happening, is NOW, then in the space of a few well thought out sentences I could make myself rich, or erase mistakes I have made, or even guide you towards the opportunities I have squandered and stop you (us?) from missing chances that would have dramatically improved the years to come. Yet now the moment is here, I find myself suddenly at a loss as to what say. Where to start, what event or advice to impart to you first?
You would have so many questions, I know that. We’ve always been inquisitive, always wanting to know all there is to know, learn more, to be smarter. So far that has stood you in good stead, doing well at school despite always ending up on the fringe of social groups, never quite being part of the ‘in’ crowd. You wear that isolation like a badge, preferring your own company and the space to think away from the mindless chatter of your peers. If I could tell you now, however, that in your next decade and a half it will take you a long time to grow out of this, and that your reluctance to engage with others will cause you to be excluded from work opportunities and great friendships, would you believe me? Even if you did, would I have had the courage at your age to act upon it, to make a change? I have to be honest and say that I doubt it. I would be confident enough to do that now, but not at twenty and only just beginning to gain that confidence.
Would I tell you that you are now married? That despite thinking right now, at this moment in time, that you would never feel truly comfortable with someone else’s children, you now have two stepchildren that you love as though they were your own? That would probably scare the hell out of you. Right now you have enough trouble holding down a steady girlfriend, let alone dealing with the concept of a family.
There is much I could tell you though. I could tell you to travel more, now while you have the chance, for it is one of your greatest regrets that you missed that chance and are now too tied down by the constraints of your lifestyle to see all those other countries you so often daydream about exploring. I might also consider telling you to take another career path, for although you are happy in your work (which is preciously rare enough for most) you yearn for better financial grounds on which to raise your family. Hell, I might even tell you to ditch that tattered old leather biker jacket you’re wearing, which will remain inseparable from you for a good five years yet, and which frankly should have been disposed of five years before now.
Women – ah yes, women. Perhaps I should speak to you of them too, for over the next few years at least you will display what can only be described as a staggeringly poor choice in this field, with little or no redeeming moments. Possibly the fact that you became engaged at the foolishly young age of seventeen only to have her break your heart has left you jaded, or more probably the pain of losing your mother when you were twelve has caused you to judge all females against her unassailable example. Either way, you are in for some miserable experiences unless I use this chance to warn you away from them. One such woman especially will be the first to totally capture your heart, and the first to shatter it underfoot, and she will leave you afraid of trusting women for so long you will consider foregoing sex forever. Forever, in fact, will turn out to be just over two years, but it is within my grasp to help you avoid that stupid drought of affection.
My standing here prevaricating will solve nothing, however, and so I take my first tentative step towards you – and then it hits me. Hits me harder than that football fan who will knock you out next year. Newton said for each and every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. What if, by trying to help you, I change our destiny so that things in my life, the life you will lead in fifteen years, are taken away from me? What if some small change means I never meet my wife or children, or suffer some as yet unknown catastrophe? If I have the power to change your life for the better, might that not change my life for the worse?
Life is full of irony, and it often crops up where we least expect it. Today is one of those days, it would seem. Presented with the unique opportunity to say anything I want to my twenty year old self, I draw the conclusion that the best thing to say is … nothing. After all, the bad things in life merely teach us to be more grateful of the things we already have. Unable to resist the chance to interact somehow though, however small, I reach into my pocket and draw out a single high ‘E’ guitar string. As I walk past you and off into the gathering gloom of evening, I drop it on the bench un-noticed next to you. When yours breaks in about four minutes as you begin to butcher a Radiohead song, that’s really going to blow your tiny little mind…
O.K. gang, that’s me done for today. Don’t forget to leave me some of those lovely comments that let me know there’s someone out there reading this. What would you say to YOUR 20yr old self? Fancy yourself as a rapper? Or just want to tell me how awesome I am (oh go on then….)?? Whatever it is, I always look forward to hearing from you all. I’ll be back soon with an easy-to-read blog with lots of pretty pictures, before a much-needed return to spitting some harsh venom at things that annoy me. If you want to see that, tune in again soon. Until then, love to each and every one of you,
P.S. Those of you who also follow my FaceBook page (SocialAssassinBlog) may have seen this, but here it is for the rest of you to laugh at. Spotted on the private ads board at a British supermarket, this is NOT ME. I don’t charge for my assassinations, I do it for the look in their eyes……………