Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Dr Toothbrush, or How I Learned to Stop Dancing and Stab my Own Face

My sincerest apologies, dear readers, for not starting out the next hundred historical posts of our wonderful blog on something more interesting, but I've had a rather busy week so the best I can do is give you one of them there life updates what the kids like doing nowadays. Here go:


If you don't already know, I took up swing dancing last year. That's the one with all the spinning and big bands and the like. Speakeasies, flapper dresses, other 20's malarky. 

The Great Gatsby 2013 Leonardo di Caprio champagne
This, but with more dancing and less social commentary/Jay-Z.
The past weekend was the first dancing workshop of the year by our swing society and it was the most hectic two days ever. I got about a total of 8 hours sleep between over 15 hours of shaking ma thang like it ain't nobody's business; and that doesn't include the dinners and drinks with the lovely people I was hosting for the event either. Swinging takes up a lot of time it seems. Also haha, yes, it's the same as that sex thing people do in car parks; we get jokes about it every event and I'm tired of it! Yes, we dance. Yes, we share partners in caravan parks. So what?

Caravan stock image
If ever there was a reason to learn Balboa...
Sadly the photos of my dapper outfits and epic swing-outs are yet to be posted by our resident photographer, but I'll be sure to update the post when they do finally surface. If you're interested in picking up some swing dancing yourself, look around your local area for a club or, alternatively, throw on some Glenn Miller and just get bouncing. Also I recommend you have a look at the legends of Lindy, Shorty George and Frankie Manning, and spend the rest of your night despairing at the fact that you'll never be as good as them.

Stabbing Myself in the Face

At the start of the week I was already bored. You know when, by the end of Monday, you already feel like your entire soul has been sucked out of your face by an amateur essence-lobotomist with sausage fingers? That was me. And I think that was why I decided the best thing to do on a Tuesday morning was to roundhouse-kick my own dental hygiene products into my oral cavity.

karate kid jump kick foot fist
This is just another stock photo until you realise the guy's foot is a fist.
Let me set the scene: I'm brushing my teeth, when I suddenly realise I've not got as much time as I thought. After contemplating acquiring an ocarina to learn the Song of Time, I decide the best action was to multi-task and throw on my socks while I brush. I lean over, sock in hand, and raise my leg, my knee shooting up and connecting with the base of the toothbrush still in my mouth. Now I've got a sore jaw and blood is running down my hand cause I've just managed to chisel into my soft palate with nought but my thigh and a blunt instrument. The puncture wound was surprisingly big:

oral trauma toothbrush puncture would soft palate
If I remember rightly, the word I used at the time was something along the lines of "Ow."
Safe to say, the doctor at A&E who saw me smirked, insinuated that I was an idiot, and gave me some antibiotics in case the banana I've been tentatively nibbling on for the past hour gets stuck in my new face hole and causes an infection. As a medic myself, I completely agree with his medical opinion. This is the single most retarded injury I have ever experienced; and I once cracked my head open on a cupboard door after my brother wrapped me up in a towel and spun me around reeeeeally fast.

baby wrapped in towel adorable
He wasn't allowed to hold me any more after that.
If I've learned one thing from this, it's that you shouldn't put your socks on when there's shit in your mouth, unless you want to inadvertently commit facial harikiri.


Lastly, this is something I've been wanting to do for a while: Pokemon Hard Mode, specifically on Emerald! The rules are simple: 

1) If your Pokemon faints, you have to release it.
2) You can only catch the first Pokemon you encounter in every area.

pidgey generation 1 pokemon red blue yellow
A party of nought but fucking Pidgeys.
This pretty much makes a 10-20 hour (depending on how many hundreds of times you've completed these games) RPG into a rogue-like gauntlet of strategy, bravery and blind luck that could fuck you and your hours of work over in seconds. I'll be tweeting my progress as I play it over the next few weeks, so you can watch me suffer in real time; you lucky things you!

I am very sorry for this not being a fun and interesting review or anything, I'll be sure to get back on the game for next week. Until then, buhbi.

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