I’m a Tourist not a Terrorist http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=200396673698&ssPageName=ADME:L:LCA:GB:1123

 

ASDA drop Jordan after breast remarks

The news that ASDA have dropped Jordan aka Katie Price aka Pain in the Arse from their publicity shots which are aimed at raising money for a Breast Cancer Awareness Campaign for complaining about scars on her breasts from plastic surgery is causing quite a fight between Jordan fans and the sane world.

 

Many are claiming it’s a witch-hunt, others can’t see the problem, after all, she’s a model who’s hired for her body and her looks, and if she’s raising money for the campaign. What’s the problem?

 

The problem is this: If you, or anyone close to you has ever suffered from breast cancer, you will no doubt be aware of the treatments involved. Treatments such as full and partial mastectomies and lumpectomies which leave women with either no breasts, or breasts which can be badly disfigured. The strength that is needed to accept your body after surgery such as this is immense, and to hear a self-indulgent, attention-seeking imbecile such as Jordan complain about a self-inflicted scar is just sickening. She obviously has no awareness of the campaign she is happy to front. After all, when it comes to Jordan, she’ll do just about anything to make sure he face is on a front page or billboard somewhere.

 

Breast cancer patients do not want to be represented by someone so shallow that they feel the need to complain about a tiny scar on her breast, inflicted at her insistence, on national TV.

 

She shows that she has no clue what breast cancer sufferers can have to go through, and if she hasn’t taken the time to find out by now, I doubt she ever will.

 

Good riddance, people with cancer have enough to put up with without throwing her and her big mouth into the mix.

 

In Darkness

In Darkness

 

In darkness hangs my weary head

Heavy with the pain

Of love and loss, life and death

And overwhelming shame.

 

Every thought turns to white

An empty space in time

A nothingness to fill my head

To keep it hanging down.

 

I need to speak but no-one hears

The cry I'm screaming out

Silently, I make my noise

Darkness heeds my shout

 

I wonder if I'm drowning

If dark can have that power

And if the night will leave

Or stay forever now

 

I close my eyes and hold my head

The darkness drawing in

Tighter, closer, I feel it now

It's ready to begin

 

It sears my flesh, and drags me down

My knees have given in

I hit the ground, the dark grows loud

As I suffer for my sin

 

There is no pause, no rest, no peace

No when, or why, or how.

Nothing left but sleep to take.

The darkness has me now

 

 

Treading water

I feel like I am treading water, sinking deeper into that dark place from which I took so long to escape before. I know what I want but sometimes I feel like I don't know or won't do what I need to do to get it.

I haven't felt this low in a long time, and I know it will pass with sleep, food, time, and honesty.

It will pass.

So if I have to feel lost to get where i need to be then that's how I have to feel. My body is trying to tell me something with migraine after migraine, if only I'd listen.

But still I lie to myself.

Be more Buddha. In the now, responding not reacting. Aware of me and everything I do. Do everything with total awareness and commitment whatever it is I'm doing.

I am a total junkie. There is simply and absolutely no point in denying, at least not to myself.

But still I lie to myself.

Legal cocaine anyone? (UPDATED)

I've had my fair share of drugs, legal and illegal and had given up on both, legals due to the fact that they were generally crap and illegals because I didn't know when to say 'no'.

Over the last few years a new generation of legals has been emerging and they are, to say the least, kicking some illegal ass.

One of the latest to hit the market is Charge, a legal alternative to coke which is market as a 'party powder' and 'bath salts.'

I ordered some to see just what all the fuss was about. When it arrived it was whiter than it appears in this photo, that seems to be a new change as some of the reviews talked about it's brownish tinge (more like heroin then in appearance). It's been over three years since I last had any illegals, I just like them too much, so I wondered if I'd remember what it was like for comparison.

To be honest, as it's been so long, and I'm just sitting in the house on my own (hardly party central) I only tried a little but, but there is definitely some effect here. There was a surge of heat throughout my body, I feel smiley and have more energy than I've had all day. I'm also incredible horny, something reviews mentioned happened quite frequently.

It blows my mind that this stuff is legal, just like it did when I found out about Spice (Which, if you haven't tried, is exactly like grass - just give it a few minutes to kick in unlike it's illegal equivalent and then sit back and enjoy a very pleasant, if somewhat heavy high).

Not much of a review so I'll update later when I've tried more, but for now, it seems that this Party Powder is enough to get things started.

Want to try some? You can buy it here from me

The King is Dead - Michael Jackson Rocks the World One More Time

It's pretty hard to not want to blog today, yesterday really was one of those 'where were you' moments. It was a night when it was OK to phone and text people in the middle of the night, because it was one of those things that everyone would want to know.

I normally start work at 5am so would usually be in bed by the time the news broke here in the UK (on Twitter which beat the main news sites by some 5/10 minutes), but as I'm off today I'd stayed up beyond my bedtime. And then I couldn't switch of the TV, total shock TV, something that happens only a handful of times in a lifetime. The world was in collective shock. Diana and 9/11 are the only other comparisons I have in my lifetime.

As much as any death is a sad event, I couldn't help but think of the thousands who dies each day, many of whom suffer extremely violent deaths, none of which could even come close to generating the frenzy which accompanied the news that the King of Pop was dead. A sad indictment of our society? A measure of the impact of one man? Probably a bit of both. And I'm just as responsible, on here blogging about Jacko, not Darfur?iran/Afghanistan/Irag/Insert as necessary.

So many times, on Sky News, on BBC, online, the phrase 'you could separate the man from the music' was used, but can you? Didn't the man make the music? If it wasn't for the man would there have been such hype over his music? Do I just not get it?

And how did Uri Geller get on so many TV stations with the same crap? He refused to answer when he last spoke/saw Jackson, preferring to talk more about himself. Bandwagon anyone?

The news people are harping on about how he will be missed, but will he be missed anymore than if he had continued to life his hermetic life? He hadn't produced anything meaningful in a musical sense since 1995 and hardly stepped out in public since that last round of molestation charges in 2005. Am I being too harsh? Yes it's shocking, yes he was a fabulous musician and entertainer, but that can't gloss over the other stuff. We can't let it.

Before his death had even been confirmed the internet was buzzing with the news that it was a suicide/overdose, with even the number 24 being touted as the number of pills he swallowed. This morning I see the story has moved on and it was heroin/speed in his system, the same cocktail that did for River Phoenix or an OD of painkillers depending on what you read. I doubt we'll ever know anything beyond 'stress-induced cardiac arrest' and thus the conspiracy theories will abound a la Elvis.

For now there is a world in grief, united for once, but it will pass and life will return to normal. Just for the next few days, I'm going to watch how the world reacts to the death of a single man, no matter how great, at the expense of all other news. Who the hell knows what is going on in other countries that we'll never know about.

Incompetence of the highest order

{begin random rant}
I live in a council flat (the rent's cheap, location great, why the hell not?) Last year they put in new windows, superb we all thought, who wouldn't want new windows?

Then came the winter and we all started to notice something wasn't quite right. I had the thermostat at 32 degrees centigrade and still my flat was freezing. After closer inspection, there were the most enormous gaps underneath the window sills, some of which were large enough for me to put my hand through. No wonder it was costing me £80 a month in gas! (it wasn't helped by the fact that the woman who 'lives' in the flat below is pulling some sort of DHSS scam and doesn't actually live there and so her flat is never heated).

I got straight on the phone to the Northern Ireland Housing Executive. They basically told me to go away. It wasn't an emergency and due to the 'recession' they were undertaking no 'non-essential' repairs until April. How the hell is a foot-deep gap beneath windows in almost every room in the middle of a freezing winter not an emergency?

Anyway, I complained but it didn't do any good. Eventually, I went to the council offices were I was told that there had been so many complaints about the windows that the executive would be going around every flat to fix them. Finally! It was Spring when it wasn't needed, but still, at least they were going to fix them.

Last week, I arrived home from my day job to find a letter saying they'd called to fix my windows (some people who live in council flats actually do fucking work you know!) and that I should ring to arrange a new call-out. It would take them around two hours to fix when they were here.

Before I got a chance to ring, there was a knock on my door on Thursday "We're here to fix your windows" WTF. I told them it wasn't convenient (I was working and you can't just land at someones door, demanding to get in with no prior arrangement) but they wouldn't take no for an answer. Literally. Everytime I said no, they argued back. In they came, around the windows they went, used what can only be described as the most foul-smelling filler I have ever come across and were gone in ten minutes leaving me to tidy up. And endure the smell for around 36 hours.

But at least it was done.

Then, this morning, Saturday, 9.30am, there was a knock at the door. My g/f was sitting in the living room, having spent most of the night being sick as she started chemo yesterday. It was the window guys again. Apparently they had some complaints that people were still getting drafts. I told them, again, it was convenient. They argued back again. I kept saying they couldn't come in and they kept insisting. It took me shouting at them that I had someone who had just started chemo sitting in the house and it REALLY wasn't convenient before they would fuck off.

Seriously, how hard is it to get a job right the first time round? Or the second? How can you expect to arrive at someones door, unannounced at 9.30 on a Saturday morning and expect that you can just waltz in, go round the whole house, disturbing everyone in it? I am furious that I had to argue to stop three men just walking into my house because it suited them to fix their fuck up. What about when it suited me over the whole bloody winter when I was freezing?

No wonder my bloody rent is so cheap!

{end rant}