Tuesday 2 March 2010
lets take this blog one further....
that's right, ladies and gentlefolk, Fraz has reached the Youtubes! Go check out my daily vlogs.... daily!
Saturday 20 February 2010
Sunday 14 February 2010
valentines day....
Yes, that’s right, it’s that dreaded time of year again. Valentines Day is one of those days which you either love it, or hate it. Or, to put it more accurately, you’re either making love, or hating yourself sitting on a couch wrapped in a duvet eating ice cream and flicking through the channels on the T.V., murmuring obscenities every time you see a Thornton’s advert or a clip of a lovey dovey rom-com on channel 4.
Okay, so maybe those generalisations are a bit severe because, personally, I fall into neither category. Don’t get me wrong, I get angry at Thornton’s adverts just a much as the next guy, but that contempt isn’t specific to Valentines Day! In fact, I’m not particularly bothered about it.
Now, don’t start assuming I’m one of those people who will pretend to not like the day because I’ve got no chance in hell in a girl even looking at me, because I’m not. But then again, I’m not one of those people who has ladies hanging off their every word, no matter how sexist that string of words may be. No, it’s the Eternal Kitchen Cleaners who should be worrying about Valentines Day, not us guys!
Think about it. The male gender has already lost its direction on what it means to be a man, well enough without a prissy love fest to worry about! I’ll admit, it has never been acceptable to smell perpetually of B.O. but aftershave? Essentially, it’s just perfume, to make you smell pretty. Like a little girl. Even lynx knows how girlish this sounds, so they try and mask the bad smell of weaning masculinity with awful ad campaigns full of women wanting to each chocolate men, muddy haired cavemen riding buffalo and now a viral internet ‘game’ where a poor soul has to try and score with Keeley Hazel! This isn’t manly! This is pathetic! Every man knows his hotness range and nobody has a hotness range that incorporates Keeley Hazel! Not unless you’ve found a cure for kitty-cat aids, own a fleet of helicopters and burn money on your, supposedly, coal burning fire!
Well that’s it from me. Get lost, im going to the shops to buy some ice-cream.
Okay, so maybe those generalisations are a bit severe because, personally, I fall into neither category. Don’t get me wrong, I get angry at Thornton’s adverts just a much as the next guy, but that contempt isn’t specific to Valentines Day! In fact, I’m not particularly bothered about it.
Now, don’t start assuming I’m one of those people who will pretend to not like the day because I’ve got no chance in hell in a girl even looking at me, because I’m not. But then again, I’m not one of those people who has ladies hanging off their every word, no matter how sexist that string of words may be. No, it’s the Eternal Kitchen Cleaners who should be worrying about Valentines Day, not us guys!
Think about it. The male gender has already lost its direction on what it means to be a man, well enough without a prissy love fest to worry about! I’ll admit, it has never been acceptable to smell perpetually of B.O. but aftershave? Essentially, it’s just perfume, to make you smell pretty. Like a little girl. Even lynx knows how girlish this sounds, so they try and mask the bad smell of weaning masculinity with awful ad campaigns full of women wanting to each chocolate men, muddy haired cavemen riding buffalo and now a viral internet ‘game’ where a poor soul has to try and score with Keeley Hazel! This isn’t manly! This is pathetic! Every man knows his hotness range and nobody has a hotness range that incorporates Keeley Hazel! Not unless you’ve found a cure for kitty-cat aids, own a fleet of helicopters and burn money on your, supposedly, coal burning fire!
Well that’s it from me. Get lost, im going to the shops to buy some ice-cream.
Saturday 2 January 2010
hello twenty10!! but good bye Doctor number10....
david tennant. will ALWAYS be my doctor. he's the only guy who can make french cool.
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