Wham, bam, diazepam!

I don't believe in luck, I don't believe in coincidence, I don't believe in jixing, the power of prayer, murphy's law, or any of that crap.  As far as I'm concerned those are all just words we've invented to try and apply meaning to things we think we should understand.  Perhaps you're hoping for a sunny day.  For whatever reason it may be incredibly important to you that the weather's nice.  So if you then verbalise this desire for sun and it does rain, have you jinxed yourself?  Is it raining because you didn't want it to?  No, of course it's not; no more than it's raining because there were some people who did want rain, but you're a liar if you claim you've never thought in those terms.  There is literally nothing within your power that can affect the weather on any day under any set of circumstances but it doesn't stop us thinking that our actions have pull over incidental circumstance.

Parenthetically, to a degree I do believe in Karma, but not in the spiritual sense.  The first way is scientific: "what goes around, comes around" is, more or less, just a poetic way of phrasing the principle in physics that every action has an equal and opposite reaction.  The second reason is sociological: if you're bad, and you do bad things, you're likely going to spend your time around other bad people.  Through your bad actions you've placed yourself in a position where you're statistically more likely to have bad things happen to you.  If you hang out with thieves, eventually someone's going to rip you off.  It's Karma without all the Hocus Pocus.  But I digress.

Something happened to me today which got me thinking about all this.  I woke up this morning and went into the bathroom.  To say I was in a good mood would be a stretch; it would be more accurate to say that I wasn't in a bad mood.  I had lots of time before work, plenty of time for all the morning things (I'm assuming you've all woken up before and are aware of what stuff gets done in the morning).  So while in my bathroom I do one of those big yawn/stretches.  Like the mega-stretches you sometimes do in bed; those ones which, on occasion, gives you a leg cramp.  Anyway, while doing my vertical-mega-yawn-stretch something snapped, there was a loud cracking sound, and I was in more pain than I've ever experienced in my life.  Somehow, while doing my mega-yawn I'd managed to tear a muscle in my neck.  This week it took me less than a day to recover from a half marathon.  Five days later and I'm paralysed from a fucking yawn!  I spent the morning all lopsided, hobbling around like the hunchback of Notre Dame, and endlessly dropping things as excruciating pain shot through my body every few minutes.  I took three different pain killers to little effect and ended up going to the Doctor's.  I don't like my Doctor.  In the past decade I've been to see him three times, on each occasion he's refused to look at the mole on my back, and spent a solid ten minutes each time trying to convince me that I need therapy.  The last time he was actually dialling the number of a shrink when I just got up and left.  Ok, so I have gone to see him before with a list of the medication I'd like him to prescribe me and then told him exactly why I think people who go into the caring professions are narcissistic, disingenuous and that their desire to help people is rooted in their appetite for self-satisfaction.  In retrospect I can kinda see his point, but that doesn't make me wrong.  I'm not having some nosey psych-major poking around in me noggin.  But happily he wasn't there today, and I was seen by this nice lady who gave me Valium.  Every cloud.

It seems like these unfortunate events happen more frequently to me than they do to other people.  If you read back on previous posts this will be confirmed: living with the lazy-eyed hungarian psycho, being repeatedly stung by wasps, getting flipped-off by cripples, etc.  Does stuff like this happen to everyone?  Do I just fixate on this kind of stuff more?  Like I stated in the preamble, I don't believe in luck. I don't believe in the philosophy that I've done something to "deserve" this.  The cards of the universe are dealt arbitrarily and all I can do is play them as best I can.  So hands up if any of you have ever torn a muscle while yawning?!  No, didn't think so.

I find it hard to imagine that Einstein ever walked around for hours with food in his mustache, or Madame Curie coming out of the toilet with her skirt tucked into her underwear, and I think it's highly improbable that Stephen Hawking will be pulling a muscle any time soon.  Has Clint Eastwood ever done that thing where he thought he saw someone he knew, and then smiled and waved at them, only to see that he's actually just waved at a total stranger?  I don't know.  My theory is that these things do happen to other people, only that their self-esteems aren't totally dependent on the attention of others and they never have the urge to tell absolutely anyone who would listen every time when the world wasn't exactly as they want it!

But long story short.  Valium.  Weeeeeeeeeeee!

Jolly Jog

So I ain't posted anything of any substance in a while.  Truth is I can't be bothered.  The three people who read this are more than capable of entertaining themselves.  But in recent weeks peeps be given' me their money for damaged children and, at the very least, deserve something in return.  Here that be.

Last weekend I did this run thing.  So I, like, ran 13.1 miles in aid of, like, this children's hospice, like, no big deal.  Some people have been throwing the word "hero" around, but you can make up your own minds.

Here is just some of the things what happened on the day I made the world shine for countless children 'cross the south of England.  Seriously...  Hero.

Before the race even started I was stood in line waiting to go pee when something made me angry.  There was this man in the line behind me who was joined by his bitch and her spawn.  I was so chilled at this point that I didn't even mind that they totally weren't allowed to be there, and that MY application money was paying for these damn toilets. Then the unthinkable happened.  The child toddled up behind me and poked me in the leg.  It.poked.me.in.the.LEG!  If I was a horse, and in some ways I'm very similar, I would have been well within my rights to buck his little head in.  People know better than to spook horses.   Children should know better than to touch me.  It's just not smart.

Then we were told, approximately 30 seconds before we started, that personal stereos were strictly forbidden and that I was condemned to spend the next two hours of my life listening to nothing but the sound of my own wheezing broken up by the noise of the woman I couldn't accelerate away from complaining endlessly to me about "all these damn hills!  Why didn't they tell us about all these hills?"  I'm sorry, miss.  Were you expecting salt-flats as we ran through the Woodfod Valley.  Woodford Valley!  I'm surprise she managed to make it to the end with all that stupidity she was dragging around with her.  It's ok though.  She was kinda old and flagged at 10 miles, which led to me utterly annihilate her time.

I finished.  Nothing much else to report with the race.  Except that I didn't get a medal.  When I was nine I completed a 3 mile fun-run and I got a fucking medal.  All I have to show for running 13.1 miles was a Mars Bar, a pulled calf muscle and a flyer for a 10k race next week.  You're welcome, assholes.

That evening I was supposed to get an early night.  Instead I got hammered drunk, had to get my mother to pick me up from a place that sold fried chicken, and then I filled up her dashboard with food before telling her that she was going 12 fries an hour and for the love of God needed to slow down.   I hadn't had a drink for the last fortnight while I was training, so I think I was due some nonsense.

Thanks to all those who sponsored me and that.  After I'm done kicking St. Peter's head in, I can guarantee you all a place in heaven.