Keep Calm and Carry On

This week’s food for thought  . . . neurotic tendencies

If the tube in London taught me anything – besides not to charge at closing doors – it was to keep calm and carry on. After a somewhat turbulent week, metaphorically speaking, the chain well and truly came off the bike. I make this reference towards to my mental well-being. It is no real secret that I went through a ‘significant’ period of readjustment before resettling back in to life here in Oz, and just when I thought things were on the up, another drunken flip out. I admit,  throwing copious volumes of alcohol down my throat through the course of last Saturday evening didn’t improve the situation; in fact it just magnified it. Again I found myself on the same old tirade of anguish, unleashed on the same poor mate who’s copped it all before.

While highlighting than YES I am a complete nut case (in both his and my eyes), it really drove home just how extreme my neurotic tendency to question every situation is. Don’t ask me why I’m like it. It’s like the sweating and the bleeding nipples – the answers are unknown. What a wake up call it really was! A change has to be made, so from now on I’ve decided to adopt the wartime ideology promoted by the 1939 British Government – Keep Calm and Carry On. Hey it worked for them . . .

With my new outlook on life firmly cemented and the chain well and truly back on the bike, I’m heading east to Kalgoorlie for the weekend. Even better my good friend Bec - who I met in London, but ironically hales from Perth - will be joining me. I may have slightly exaggerated just how pleasant Kalgoorlie is, so I’m now at bay at what I’m going to show her. The Super Pit is the obvious choice, but giant holes in the ground can only fill so much time. There is offcourse the world’s tallest bin, a bestowed honour for all Kalgoorlieans. Then I suppose we could move on to a tour of the brothels and then round out the evening with a drinks and the real deal at the Gold Bar. What a weekend she’s in for, I don’t know why I’m worried!

I think we’ll leave it there for this week. If you do happen to see someone who resembles me wandering aimlessly around the front of debos, don’t be alarmed; I’m simply once again just trying to find myself. And here’s me thinking I had it in the bag. Lets try again shall we!

Keeping calm and carrying on!

Cuttsy

Rock ya croc

This weeks food for thought . . .  crocs (the super stylish kind, not the animal)

After toying with numerous ideas, this week’s blog topic delivered itself in the form of an insult – a group of mates mocking me over owning a pair of crocs. While they basked in their ‘humorous’ torment, I channelled on that one of them was trying taking an avid interest in them. Next thing its midnight and we’re gearing up for a much-needed binge feed at McDonalds and I’m pleading with him to take them off. And it is for this reason that I cannot fathom why everyone does not own a pair; they should be mandatory. If there was a natural disaster and I could only take 3 items, hands down the crocs would be up there. While I admit visually they aren’t the most appealing footwear, their versatile and how many shoes do you own can be worn as both as a sandal and slip on. I sure as hell can’t name any. For the cynics out there, I’ve devised the top ten reasons to wear crocs:

1) Really soft, super comfortable, moulds to your feet – PERSONALISATION

2) Barely there, weighing only 6 ounces - SO LIGHT . . . LIKE MAN WALKING ON THE MOON

3) Vented so air passes through, keeping feet cool – VENTILATION

4) Non-marking slip-resistant soles - DOUBLE TICK



5.) Bacteria and odour resistant - COMMON FOOT CARE



6.) ULTRA HIP ITALIAN STYLING - NEED I SAY MORE . . .



7.) Portholes allow water and sand to pass through - SUITABLE FOR ALL LANDSCAPES, ALBEIT WATER OR LAND


8.) Can be sterilised in water and bleach - NO FANCY FLASH LEATHER POLISH CLEANER NEEDED, HENCE SAVING YOU MORE MONEY. . BUT WAIT THE LIST GOES ON
. . .

9.) Easy maintenance, just wipe clean – THAT’S WHAT WE ALL NEED IN OUR BUSY LIVES 



10.) Orthotic moulded foot bed for ultimate comfort and support - ARCH CARE IS SOMETHING WE SHOULDN'T NEGLECT.

If you aren’t out buying a pair after reading this I think you really need to reassess what you want out of your life. Quite simply the above really does exemplify why crocs result in an easy and better walking experience.

Excuse me while I make a dash to the IGA, crocs firmly attached to my left and right feet. Only one decision to be made, do I rock the sandal or the slip on  . . . oh the possibilities.

Bye for now,

Jordan 'the croc loving' Cutts

Fear of Dogs

This weeks food for thought - hyperactive dogs


It recently dawned on me that I have a fear of LARGE dogs. For the record, I did say large dogs. Hypocrite may be your initial thought; as YES I used to be a dog owner, but come on we all know with your own it’s different. There is just something about dogs. Cats, fish, rabbits, guinea pigs, sea monkeys I can cope with, but with the canines I just feel this wave of uneasiness take control when they approach. Like the hang over’s (as per the previous blog) the phobia is getting worse. So much so that if a dog were to be coming toward me I would cross the road and its highly likely I would walk in the opposite direction to where I should be headed. Take for example when I go running, if I see a dog striding toward me, with or without its owner in toe, I actually start to panic and strategically try to plan out how I would react in the situation given it attack me. Without fail I’m probably sounding slightly dramatic and neurotic by this stage, but I think it’s the fear that draws the dog toward me. I’m a magnet, I attract them  . . . It is as though they have some sixth sense and just for kicks decide to bark and then navigate their nose in my crutch. You could be really lucky and even get a little dry hump before their ‘overly’ concerned’ owner comes gushing over and says “ohhh he likes you.” Ironic that if humans were to carry on with this tirade, we would probably end up on some sort of sexual assault charge. 

You might be thinking where is this dog-hating-loon going with all of this; rest assure a point will be made. Just last week I was cleaning out the favourites folder on my computer and boy and behold what should I come across, a website for taming overly excited dogs. How does one find themselves on a website dealing with such a subject matter you might be asking. The answers lies in a house that I used to house sit, and with this house came a dog. Not just any dog . . . If there were a mental asylum for dogs, it would be locked away in solitary confinement. I’ve never come across anything with so much energy in my life. It had the sixth sense and used to pace up and down the front fence until I’d get enough courage to enter the property and then it was on for young an old. The moment that latched open it when B-A-L-I-S-T-I-C!!! Everyday I would emerge defeated, covered head to toe in soil because it used to jump all over me like a mad man until I managed to throw enough biscuits in its bowl before making a mad dash out of there. Initially I figured it was just getting used to a new face and would ease off, but no it got worse. So much so that I was driven to the Internet to look for helpful hints on how to tame it. I tried everything from shaking gravel in an empty water bottle, tapping sticks, standing perfectly still in the one position for 5 minutes, chasing it with a wheelie bin that doubled as a shield, food as bribes, talking to it at the fence for ten minutes to calm it down and even succumbed to purchasing a cheap water gun. I kid you not none of the above actually worked, if anything they probably edged it on more. Probably a good thing I deleted the website.

Anyway, that’s me for today. To be fair all I’m really asking is to be left alone as I’m not interested in your saliva, your nose up my backside or your sexually motivated advances. 

Seedaylishous Hangovers

This week’s food for thought – seedaylishous hangovers

In theory – A hangover describes the sum of unpleasant physiological effects following heavy consumption of alcoholic beverages. The most commonly reported characteristics of a hangover include headache, nausea, sensitivity to light and noise, lethargy, dysphoria, diarrhea and thirst, typically after the intoxicating effect of the alcohol begins to wear off.

In reality – soul destroying…

There is nothing more I detest than a hang over and to be quite honest I’m fed up with them. Some are so gruelling they play with my mind and convince me that alcohol will never again touch my lips. But for some reason, come the weekend, or even mid week, I once again partake in this vicious cycle, awaiting the punishment that will follow in due course (its like some sort of sick fetish). To make matters worse, it seems the older I get, the worse they become. I remember vividly the days of invincible under age raging and waking up virtually hang over free. Why must all good things come to an end? The moment I turned 18 it seems this body had bigger and better things and without fail I will in some shape or form bear the brunt of my previous night antics.

I’ve taken to treating them as a game, not knowing how I’m going to wake up – sort of like a lucky dip – and have characterised them it in to three categories: the first being general overall seedyness, the second vomiting and thirdly the headache where it feels like your head will detach from your body and sky rocket in to another universe. But, depending on how hard you tried, you might even hit the ‘jackpot’ and endure all three. By far the ultimate is waking up drunk and thinking you’re fine and you have defeated it, until it sneaks up and hits you later on in the day.

You might be thinking to yourself, ‘Cutts you haven’t tried this . . .’  not to cut you off, but I’ve tried every remedy known to man to try and alleviate this problem– everything from drinking powerade before bed, skulling litres of water, swimming, green tea, orange, bacon and eggs, panadol, fast food, ‘backing the truck up’ (goes down like razer blades) berocca, a 4km run – it didn’t end well. I might make it my quest in life to find the invincible cure to this incurable taunt.  

Some of my ‘favourite hang over moments' include:

• ·      Passing out on in a kitchen I shared with 11 other people

• ·      Pulling over and spewing out of my driver door in a neighbourhood street in front of a resident watering their grass
• ·      Spewing off the back of a truck in Thailand
• ·      Spewing in the bin in my room and forgetting about it
• ·      Setting off a fire alarm and having my building evacuated after I tried to sleep in my shower (note to self shower with door open)
• ·      Passing out in a bar after 35 shots, being carried home and then not surfacing for the next 24 hours
• ·      Stopping a coach on the way to Oxford to get out and have a spew
• ·      Crying in the carpark of subway after I broke my immobiliser and couldn’t get home (nothing worse than soggy subway)
• ·      Sneaking out of a tutorial to have a spew only to be caught by my tutor (awkward)
• ·      Making some very interesting purchases at Dublin airport (including the most boring book on earth: Tony Blair’s biography) and the passing out and dribbling on myself – much to the delight of fellow passengers.
• ·      Sleeping with quokkas in a park at Rottnest.

Ahhhhhh such good times!

So to the lucky ones out there where your body is yet to provide you with a ‘useful, natural and intrinsic disincentive to excessive drinking – your time will come!

Bye for now

Cuttsy