Freshly Spilled Thoughts

Time is whizzing by lately.

There are not enough hours in the day.

Really they need to add an extra 8 hours each day just so you can fit the game of life in.

When I was a kid the days seemed to last ages.

The Summer holidays lasted even LONGER.

Now you blink and the next day is here.

I bet when you get to 100 a day is really only an hour in real terms. You heard it here first.

I don’t own a single album by Britney Spears but she’s grown on me.

Not like mould. That’s the wrong way to put it.

What I mean is…

I actually think some of her songs are genuinely good. Like Toxic… and Work Bitch.

I remember watching her on a chat show once. She was walking around the studio with the presenter, telling people to ‘work bitch’, as she cracked her whip.

Like you do.

She’s a good sport. I bet she’d play spin the bottle. You can’t imagine Cher doing that can you.

“You want a hot body. You want a Maserati. You better work bitch.”

It’s the antithesis of entitlement mentality… and I like that.

It’s also true. Nobody gives you anything in this life.

Long live Britney.

Imagine being Superman but on a day when you couldn’t be arsed…

Sys_Error.Report_Log: Something was different in the mirror today.

Dave Allen never pulled it off on Saturday, but he dared to dream and came up short.

He also got half a million quid for going 3 rounds against Filip Hrgovic.

Still a Donny Soldier.

Still loved.

And still the people’s champion.

Sometimes when you don’t look like you’ve won, the thing you gained or learned in the process is something you can’t put a price on.

And that’s life for you.

It’s how you look at it and what you make it.

That, dear reader, is my thought of the day.

There’s only one sporting celebrity I love.

Dave Allen (the Boxer)

And I’ll tell you why…

He’s a normal funny bloke from Doncaster, who happens to be able to box a bit.

He’s ranked #62 in the world and today he’s up against Filip Hrgovic (ranked #5).

On paper it’s a mismatch.

It shouldn’t really be happening, but people love Dave, especially people from Doncaster.

They’ve booked a stadium in Doncaster and got one of the world’s elites to turn up there to fight.

Dave is living his dream. This is his FA Cup Final and he’s the real life equivalent of Rocky Balboa from Donny.

Filip Hrgovic, today, is his everything.

You know how most people draft in someone like Eminem to front the walk into the ring?

Not Dave.

He brings in MC Devvo, a character from Donny that blew up on YouTube about 20 years ago before going viral was even a thing.

MC Devvo had a rap song years ago called Donny Soldier…

One bit in it goes, “Summer is here and it’s f****** f****** buzzing”

Just ridiculous really, but they seem to have a good sense of humour in Doncaster, that’s all I can say.

I thought unique humour was only reserved for Brummies 🙂

There’s nobody I want to see win more than Dave.

And I think he has a sporting chance.

When asked what sacrifices he’s made on the run up to this fight, he replied:

“I’ve eaten less sweets and chocolate.”

Then he said,

“You ask me what sacrifices I’ve made, but I’m living my dream every day. The people out there working 9-5… that’s sacrifice.”

Humble, self deprecating and showing maturity beyond his years

Good luck Dave. I hope you knock out Hrgovic and continue to live your dream.

The average bloke off the street will always be rooting for you.

Good news. I survived.

This isn’t a robot typing a message on my behalf.

It’s actually me and everything.

So what happened at the dentist?

I asked her if I was interrupting her dinner.

There was no dinner on display as I walked into the room.

No sign of Paul Daniels hiding it under a top hat either.

She must have wondered how I knew that, so she asked if I could smell it.

So specific.

This was a game of dinner chat chess and I held the ace card.

I said, “No, someone told me about your dinner in reception”.

Check mate.

She asked me if I’d had any problems.

I considered telling her about the time I bought a packet of revels and how I could never figure out which ones were the coffee ones.

But she seemed busy, so I kept it strictly dental.

I mentioned the sensitivity from the filling 6 months earlier…

… I think I overplayed my hand because she started talking about removing nerves.

WOAH. Let’s not do anything hasty.

The she said, “Oh, you can do without that tooth anyway. You wouldn’t miss it.”

A nurse once said that to me about my finger as she was sewing it back on.

To me, statements like that are more shocking than watching the likes of Eden Lake.

It’s an easy thing to say when the limb, digit or appendage is not yours.

I strongly reassured her that I would miss it. I told her I was sentimental.

She seemed to find this funny, but I was shooting from the hip.

I don’t mess about when it comes to confessions relating to anything around the jawline area.

I played down the sensitivity at this point just in case she extracted my tooth like a shit birthday surprise or something.

It wasn’t my birthday.

We were back in the winners circle and I still had my tooth.

So far, so good.

I stuck to my guns, but I did ask a question.

This led to a discussion about another procedure costing £180 a tooth.

The scale and polish happened. I removed the Joe 90 glasses they always give you at these appointments.

I was free for another 6 months and the white stripe army couldn’t hold me back.

In the car park, the key in the ignition seemed lighter somehow… and I drove off into the sunset.

Yesterday was a good day.

Dean Cube

The day has finally come.

Yes…

*drum roll*

It’s…

… another imminent trip to the dreaded dentists.

Those 6 months went by quickly.

My brain always tells me not to go.

“You don’t need this today, Dean.”

“If you miss it today, so what. You can always go in 6 months.”

“You don’t answer to no dentist.”

“Appointments are just their way of controlling you.”

🙂

But I know what I’d do.

I just wouldn’t make an appointment until next year LOL.

Then you go 18 months later and they frown at you as they say,
“We haven’t seen you for a while, Dean.”

An X-Ray follows…

“Ooh, we spotted a thing that needs doing. If only you’d come sooner,
this might not have happened.”

I once had a dentist tell me they were caught between a rock and a
hard place.

Profound and enamel based.

Shit got deep (LOL).

He once confessed to me he lost £25K on stocks and went for a
swim to calm down.

He also used the same lines with all customers.

I knew them all in advance.

I’m not frightened of the dentists. That part doesn’t bother me.

In fact I quite enjoy the pleasantries part.

You know, where they are saying hello and the world looks lovely.

“Hello, you may be happy now but I have a drill and I know how to use it.”

The bit I don’t like is when they say you’ve got to have something done.

So you have ‘the thing’ done.

The pain at the time doesn’t particularly bother me either.

But what I really hate is the ongoing pain.

For example, I had a filling and it messed around with my nerves.

It took 6 months to settle down.

I almost went back to say, “This aint right. It shouldn’t hurt for 24 weeks.”

Then it calmed down again, just as I was about to go back.

All was well with the world.

Fast forward 7 years, she told me I needed it doing again.

AND THAT’S THE BIT I DON’T LIKE

Because I know what’s coming.

On the same tooth it’s going to jangle all my nerves around again.

And it did. 6 months again.

So today I am going but I am not going to have bugger all done apart from a scale and polish.

That’s my masterplan.

Fiendish isn’t it.

You’re not supposed to like the dentists anyway are you.

That would be like enjoying queues or getting excited in traffic jams.

It just doesn’t happen.

I say it doesn’t, I have one mate who enjoys the dentists
because she sounds strict.

God knows what that entails, but dental fantasies
are no doubt ‘a thing’ as well.

Maybe she reprimands him about the sporadic use of
mouthwash or something.

“Ooh, you’re so bossy with the Colgate. Say dental
floss like you take no prisoners”

Whatever floats the proverbial boat I guess.

I can never work out if dentists are caring or sadistic.

Maybe they are a mixture of both.

Why do they own such long needles?

Why do they talk to you when you can’t answer back.

Why do they smile when they are drilling.

Answers on a postcard.

Wish me luck. If I survive this I will write on here again.

Failing that, the domain will expire and the hosting won’t renew.

It’s a jungle out there, dear reader.

/TODAY/ experienced a system glitch at 13:52 HOURS. Stand by … RECALIBRATING …

One thing that has always amazed me was how celebrities like Stan Laurel used to find time to write letters to all manner of people, from friends to fans. There’s also an unbelievable account of hand written letters from Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo (staggering it even exists), which would never exist if hotmail/gmail had been a ‘thing’ back then.

That’s one of the sad things about stuff being so dumbed down with apps like WhatsApp where you’re available 24/7 to all and sundry. How did any of us ever buy into that as a good thing? (lol). I think everything devolved after emails and basic texts to be honest.

Anyway, here’s another example. Peter Cushing writing to someone’s mum after her husband’s death, going out of his way to help and provide comfort. How many would sit and type a letter like this on a typewriter now, if they could? Not many… maybe it was just a more selfless era?

Something to cogitate on this Sunday… and look how eloquently/sincerely he writes…

Christopher Lee had this to say about Peter Cushing:

“I don’t want to sound gloomy, but at some point of your lives, every one of you will notice that you have in your life one person, one friend whom you love and care for very much. That person is so close to you that you are able to share some things only with him. For example, you can call that friend, and from the very first maniacal laugh or some other joke you will know who is at the other end of that line. We used to do that with him so often. And then when that person is gone, there will be nothing like that in your life ever again.”

Back to me…

I know exactly what Christopher is talking about. Real friends and people you love/connect with at that level are as rare as hen’s teeth.

It’s just wrong what you see on social media these days. I’ve never looked up anything pervy or penis related on this site, yet I get ads like this thrown at me when I’m thinking about things like what to have for breakfast.

“If your penis has weakened with age” is a laughable ad headline. What did people start off with in the first place? Excalibur’s Sword?

It’s an Arthurian legend, phallically speaking.

“Do you remember when you could lift tables with your penis? It’s really weakened with age hasn’t it. You seem to be struggling with moving paper weights with it these days. Anyway, I saw this ad you might be interested in…”

They’ll be telling people to strap a dumbbell to it next and walk around the shops. Also the ad itself borders on soft porn and makes it look like the woman is being subjected to a protrusion when she’s trying to get on with her day.

“I wish this bloke would piss off, I’m trying to get to the greengrocers.”

Emily Thompson can shove her ad up her derriere, that’s what I say.

I’m fully expecting the next ad to say something like, “Upgrade Your Penis and Use It To Do The Pole Vault at The Next Summer Olympics”

Daley Thompsons Dickathlon…

Always been a bit of a fan of Erin Murphy (Bewitched fame) and she must be one of the hottest 61 year olds on the planet…

… Oil of Olay? 🙂

Some people think that magic doesn’t exist. They are wrong (it’s within all of us).

They also haven’t seen or read ‘Bridge to Terabithia‘…

This film, which I stumbled across one day, had a profound effect upon me and changed the way I look at the world.

So much so, in fact, that I wrote about it here:

The Fragile Magic Of Hidden Worlds

The bridge is still there, for anyone who remembers the way.

I bought the album ‘Discovery’ by Daft Punk when I worked at this I.T. place in the countryside.

2001 was the year. I used to sit next to this guy called Chris who never did any work. He spent most of his working hours talking to his girlfriend on the work phone line and saying things like, “She has a lovely bottom” when a woman in the office walked past the desk.

He also bought the fastest depreciating car in the UK and thought it was an asset. I thought he was a work-shy fop with the personality of a squashed crisp packet.

I also sat next to another guy called Chris (I know, two of them! What are the chances)

The other Chris was a camp, extrovert man with a younger lover called Robin.  He used to proudly put up pictures of him next to his monitor, although I often got the feeling another ‘Robin’ was just around the corner.

Chris didn’t do much work either, but he had personality and that goes a long way (just ask the pig in Greenacres).

Most of the time his opener on the telephone would be, “So, how’s your love life darling?”

He used to wear a handkerchief in the top pocket of his jacket, that was always on display.

Quite a few good tracks on the Discovery album. I don’t know which one is my favourite, but I still like Face to Face:

One of my favourite films is Gattaca. In particular this quote:

“You wanna know how I did it? This is how I did it, Anton. I never saved anything for the swim back.“

I don’t think I need to explain what this means, but it certainly means a great deal to me.

If you’re going to try, go all the way… do not save anything for the swim back.

Definitely wear swimming trunks or a swimsuit of some description though. We’re not savages.