Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Getting Older

Everyone grows up. Everyone gets older. For some of us we continue to chase youth by carrying on the way we did when we were young. Drinking, smoking and living in one's own filth. Some of us opt to live through our offspring.
What is frighteningly true is that we are all slowly becoming slightly different versions of our parents. Don't try and deny it. In some dark recess of your mind you've already seen it happening.


This realisation hit me last year at a wedding. I realised I was 'Dad dancing'. I then realised that I was dancing as I always had, now however I was a Dad. I looked at my friends, they were dancing as they always had. They were not Dads, yet they were still Dad dancing.

How had this baffling situation arisen? Of course the answer was obvious, I had always Dad danced, as had my friends. In essence, we all dance like our Dads, it just takes realisation to get there. It now makes sense, you do what you know. If the first person you see dance is your old man he will be your template in later life. That's how I inherented the 'stoic in a corner until shitfaced' technique. Thanks Dad.


'I don't understand it', 'it's too loud', and, 'it's a bad influence'. Normally comments associated only with your parents. However over the past year i have used each when discussing music. I've found myself digging out music from my youth like a familiar security blanket. I even got goosebumps listening to 'Money For Nothing'.

I can no longer class myself as trendy as far as music is concerned. I'm no longer interested in digging out new gems and hidden bands, just give me vintage Charlatans. That's right Fizzle Dicks, get fucked.

Sayings Old People Use

I was playing cricket the other day. Prowling like a big cat at square leg, I was chatting with the umpire. He was some 10-15 years my senior (at least) and was commenting on the laziness of a teenage batsman. I couldn't help agree with him. Then he uttered 'youth is wasted on the youth'. I almost shuddered as I found myself nodding stoically and lazily mouthing 'wasted'.

I've always thought that this saying was bollocks. I don't think I wasted my youth (yet), I had a great time. Sure I could've done more, but I'm content. For all we knew this young lad now lives the kind of life I could only dream of (online of course, kids don't go out anymore).

Ambitions for my offspring

Somethings you can only dream of. For most blokes it swings between someone famous (film or rock star) or some type of professional sportsman. Even now I find myself day dreaming about scoring bundles of runs, or bags of goals. Only to be dragged back into reality by my complete lack of natural ability.

Not for my boys. Oh no. Nurture will win out. My household is an intense boot camp of sporting excellence. I've hidden this from the wife for the most, but there's a good reason I constantly encourage my son to throw and kick things despite my wife's objections. I've already given him a cricket ball, just to get used to the weight and size.

Taking the mickey

As a child I remember the innocence of playing in the garden or park with my Dad. I'd run frantically after a ball that he would punt varying distances. I can see his laugh and smile as I'd return with it, eager to repeat the process.

Little did I know that chuckle that graced his face was not laughing with me, but at me. How do I know? Becuase I do the same now. I'm that bastard.

Forgetting the joys of youth

It's very easy to sucked into your day to day life. The stress of work can weigh heavy on one's shoulders. We are too quick to forget that (in most cases) most things in life and not as serious as we initially think. It's not life and death. It may seem it at the time, but really it isn't.

This was illustrated at the weekend by my cousins playing a seemingly endless game that they had created called 'Square Wars'. The aim of said game was to repeatedly hit each other with inflatable cubes. That's it.

My friend remarked that it had forgotten about making up seemingly endless games in our youth. We chuckled wryly and sat down as our backs gave out.

Relating back to the old man

Everything is circular, as a youngster you just don't realise it. As a youngster your Dad is an infallible superhero. As you get older this facade slips away. If you have children yourself you quickly realise that your Dad is just another person trying to get by in life, in much the same way you are.

This revelation has lead me to appreciate my Dad that little bit more. I think he knows it too, and as is the circular nature of things, I'll now wait for my sons to do the same.

Not that we will talk about any of this. We're men.

Want to write for this blog? You can do so here.


Monday, 18 June 2012

The Equations Of Life

Life, some say, is all about balance. Balance of course is an equation (see what I've done there). So it got me thinking, and when I think, I write. Normally twaddle.

So I present, for your delectation (and no doubt time wasting), equations of life:


Actual Sleep = Time You Want to sleep - 2 hours + (Length of time on the piss / 2) + (Reasons to get up / 2)



Easy enough, the time you want to sleep is long, lets say 9 hours. Normally you never get this, thus the "-2", however if you've been on the booze for 4 hours the night before you might get an additional 2 hours. You've then got to factor in reasons to get up. If you have got a reason to get up, you'll invariably sleep in, thus if you have 2 reasons to get up you'll get an additional hour in bed.


Time to get ready = 15 minutes + (0 minutes if male) + (90 minutes if female)



I take 15 minutes to get ready, for anything. That includes showering and doing my hair. My wife could take 90 minutes plus, it's only the fact that I chase her that she gets ready quicker.

Cost of petrol-

Actual Petrol Cost = Perceived Cost of Petrol x 1.5



I try and budget for my petrol on a monthly basis. Despite an airtight process I'm always short. I'm hoping the above will fix that.

Length of Journey-

Actual journey length = Perceived journey length x 0.5 / (1.33 on return)



I don't know why, but everytime I go somewhere (especially if it's the first time) it takes longer than I thought it would to get there. Yet strangely on the return journey it seems to go quicker. Weird that.

Argument Length-

Actual argument length = Time taken for me to say sorry x 3



Women forget nothing. This is not a generalisation. Anyone who does not believe this is either certifiable, or incredibly brave.

When you think an argument is over, you're wrong. She will stew for as long as it takes for you to say sorry, even if you're in the right.

Simplicity of Task-

Actual simplicity of task = 20 x number of tools required



The 20 in this task represents the casual "yeah that'll take 20 minutes" appraisal that I give all jobs. If your appraisal level is lower, or higher, substitute as required.

Invariably no job has ever taken 20 minutes.

Hotness of Women-

Hotness = 5 + (1 per additional week without other females of greater hotness)


H=5+(1 AWWFGH)

This needs a little explaining. The easiest way of looking at it was my time in 6th form. Having spent the former 5 years at an all boys school we were all eager for 6th form as girls were introduced.

On seeing them all arrive on the 1st day of term it was universally agreed that there were no lookers.

By Christmas however this universal agreement had to change to encompass some of them as 'hotties'.

In essence all this illustrates is that the longer men go without significant female hotness, they will make the available women 'hot'.

Well there's a few to keep you going. There are obviously a few more, feel free to send them in if you like, here.


Sunday, 10 June 2012

Football's worst haircuts

It's been a busy week at Man Blog towers (a single story, damp, outhouse), I've been contacted by all and sundry to test this, and write that.

One of them was actually quite a good premise, so I'm writing about it- Football's worst haircuts.

Why do footballers have bad haircuts?

I think it's a combination of too much money, detachment from reality, and the belief that they are trend setters. When you have an unimaginable amount of money to spend, it's easy to waste it on any number of things (drugs, drink, gambling, whores, cars, tattoos), so why not on a time intensive hair cut.

The difference between a bad haircut and a trailblazer.

There have been many shonky haircuts in world football, but just because someone stands out, doesn't mean they've got bad hair. Sometimes they're just ahead of the curve.

Rene Higuita, or 'El Loco' stunned the footballing world with this beast-

It never really caught on, but those gasps in the crowd were for the sheer audacity of playing football with this barnet.

No blog on footballers haircuts would be complete without Carlos Valderrama.

The godfather of explosive hairdos, Carlos shone a light that will never go out.

In more recent times we've got Marouane Fellaini.

Like a modern Samson, it's clear his footballing prowess flows from his tightly woven locks. Let's hope some page 3 girl called Delilah doesn't convince him to cut it.

Actual bad haircuts.
In my opinion there has only been one truly horrendous haircut in football, and it's one for the ages. Like an economic meltdown, or a dodgy kebab, it repeats itself at regular intervals. It is the 'power mullet'.

This list could go on and on, but I'm going to add just one more. This example is a personal choice as a West Ham fan-

This signalled the start of my dislike for Carrick. It became clear he didn't want to get stuck in to Championship football and this haircut was his form of protest.

However you don't need to take my word for it. You can actually have a vote as to what you think is the worst haircut in world football. I've gone for Waddle.

Feel like writing something like this for the blog? You can do so here.

Follow the man blog on Twitter

The Man Blog
on Google+

Online Marketing