I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I joined Twitter and to be honest I can’t even remember why I did. I think it was mainly as a smaller venting area for my blog ideas, which I was finding myself forgetting as they came quite frequently and often when I wasn’t in a position to record my ramblings. I never thought it would become anything other than a holding pen for future blog rants and I definitely never thought it would come to the point where I needed to write this…

I have never smoked. I have never done drugs. Apart from Dr Pepper and CSI I have zero inclinations in my life towards any addictions. That was until Twitter came along…

http://twitter.com/#!/notthatgirl24/status/110809473815293952

Twitter has taken over my life. It has its spiny tentacles firmly stuck in every part of my day. To say that is a “Social Network”, it has actually turned me into a borderline recluse. I work in a huge open office with a lot of people who I can learn a lot from but I’m the quiet guy sat in the corner trying to make sure the boss doesn’t recognise the black/grey columns of Tweetdeck.

http://twitter.com/#!/Lolly_King/status/110798399049187328

Even at home I’m sat on the couch staring at the TV and watching utter shite just to tweet about it. And if I’m not I’m sat in front of the computer waiting for a column to shift down with something else benile to comment on. Any kind of domestic conversation is often littered with replies consisting of me looking up from my phone with a “uh what?… sorry, I uh…”

http://twitter.com/#!/jannism/status/110802322405339136

Even what should be nice outings are often ruined when I stop a conversation mid-sentence to take a picture of an inanimate object that looks like it has a face or something equally as quirky that I think “you guys” will like.

http://twitter.com/#!/JDIrwin/status/110803694735470592

I often lay in bed in an insomnic stupor waiting to see if someone has fav’d or RT’d what I thought was a funny tweet…

http://twitter.com/#!/StuartMc1/status/112606928164749313

Fortunately I have a partner who is busy with a very full-time job as well as studying to finish a Master’s degree, which affords my hands some alone time to sit and tweet to my heart’s content but its come to the point where it has taken over everything.

http://twitter.com/#!/AshleyIbbotson2/status/110802482761957376

I have few friends, I rarely speak to my family but more importantly to me, although you have been a more than receptive and responsive audience for the vitriol that spills from my fingers, I forgot that I already had a perfectly good audience sat next to me on the couch at home.

http://twitter.com/#!/colo_colo_colo/status/110810120656650240

I don’t want this to take away from the absolute jizz-inducing howl I’ve had over the last year. You guys are like teachers, therapists, stand-up comedians, friends, students and eye candy all rolled into one polly-pocket sized package AND for free! I have laughed, laughed so hard I dislocated two ribs, laughed harder again, cried and got a semi more times than I can recall.

http://twitter.com/#!/OpheliaBackside/status/111021087285977088

I have gone out of my way for people I will never meet. I’ve consoled people whose problems i will never understand. I’ve been offered free Arsenal tickets from a complete stranger (thanks @TheLadyQ10). I’ve laughed with effin SPURS FANS for cripe’s sake! The difficulty in closing up shop has been further compounded with the over-whelming response I received when I ”handed in my notice” on Monday night and throughout #BonesAndMoansLeavingWeek.

http://twitter.com/#!/FutileRage/status/111023732302163968

I want to thank you all for the amazing time I’ve had on Twitter. I never thought something as simple as what is basically an organised 1990s chat-room would be so infectious (in the good way, not the first year at uni kind of way) as well as heart-warming and inspiring. Below are a number of special mentions I want to make that won’t fit in 140 characters…

@ajdevenish I used to be Ant’s boss when I used to work in hotels, and he is now a social media guru who has moved to that Big Smoke to continue doing what he does best. Not only was he my first follower that wasn’t an egg or a girl in a bikini, he is also the reason a lot of you started following me. Thanks mate.

@BroomOwl Andy was my first follower that I didn’t know in real life (but now do). you couldn’t wish for a more honest, down-to-earth and “normal” person to fill your timeline with.

@LianneMarieB is another one of my first followers and taught me that absolutely everything goes with toast… oh, and never mess with her office tea-cup or so help you god.

@Origami_Owl Paul is an artist of many a talent and has a knack for making you realise you could do something that you thought you couldn’t, whether it be a play-on-words, a caption competition or making an origami Mandarin duck look like Herbie.

@FutileRage who should have the saying “swearing like a trooper” renamed and reclassified in his image. The guy takes describing real-life people to a level so high you’ll find yourself calling your cat a “Bumwimpering Shitwing” when it does something it shouldn’t… and I don’t even know his real name.

A special two-for-one mention for @TheGrammarNymph and @DrinkMeForFree. I can’t remember where they came from but they brighten up even the dreariest of days. And they heart me for some reason… and I have never figured out why. I don’t know their real names either.

@Fluppity who is going through more than you can imagine, and yet on a daily basis, you would never know. A real inspiration of strength, and I don’t know her real name.

@CaptainGrammar Bry is the true definition of a “real” fan. Dear Lord, please save Josh Groban should she ever get to meet him.

@FuriousGerbil Despite it being mostly sausages, wine, sausages & wine or kicking the neighbour’s bin over it’s still amusing every day. I don’t know his real name.

@Colo_Colo_Colo you may remember Matt as @JakesBakesCakes but no matter what username he goes by, if there was a war to be fought with wordplay and punnery, he would be the Field Marshall.

@Elphindore who has gone under a number of usernames but always seems to find her way back. Amazing mother to what seems like a thousand kids and still finds time to tweet. I don’t know her real name.

The Four Horseladys of the Apocalypse… @Donna_Gallers, @JulieRemarks, @Lolly_King and @JDIrwin. When the Armageddon happens, they’ll be the first to make a joke or write a kids book about it.

@MooseAllain needs no introduction or even this mention. A gentleman artist of the highest calibre.

I know I have missed people who I really should have remembered or people who you think should have got a mention but these are the people who have had a direct influence on me and made my time on twitter what is was.

http://twitter.com/#!/KATWOODS/status/112163345511096321

This has been a very surreal experience. When I shut down my Facebook account in a few weeks, I will have absolutely no qualms in clicking the “deactivate” button without a second thought for the people who have called me friends for most of their lives, yet I know full well that I will be sat in front of the computer for a good few hours with the mouse hovering over the “close account” button, wondering if I really want to lose all these nameless, faceless people from my imaginary life…

But it has to be done, and on that note I bid you Adieu… thank you all for letting me into your lives and taking some of my life into yours… its been FUCKING AWESOME! Anyone wanting to get in touch can email me at iangoodin@hotmail.co.uk

And don’t forget… if you love it… put a ring on it… if you don’t… put a rubber on it…

And now to play me out… Mr Ryan Adams, with a song that reminds me of the Twitter…

“Where do you go when you’re lonely? Where do you go when you’re blue? Where do you go when you’re lonely… I’ll follow you…”

Goodnight folks…

A  high percentage of rap artists claim in their raps to come from a poor background and a deprived upbringing where sometimes it took illegal activity to make ends meet. Robbing the local liquor store or newsagent to pay the rent. A mugging to get some money for some food. In more extreme circumstances turn to the world of high-grade narcotics. Some rappers talk of these times to deter the youth that listen to their songs, to let them know that this isn’t the way to go. But a majority continue to glamorize this lifestyle, letting us know of their continuing exploits in selling drugs to subsidise their music career.  Which is all well and good if you can get away with it and if that’s what floats your boat/credit. And with this dangerous lifestyle comes the need for protection, so guns and firepower are usually involved too.

"And if I find one red Skittle in that bowl..."

So you would think that with all this illegal activity going on, they’d be keeping a low profile right? But no… they tell you the illegal activity they are partaking in. They tell you the type of drugs they are making and where they are selling them. They tell you the type of car they drive to transport them in. They even tell you where they buy their custom jewelry and the bars & clubs they hang out in…

“I’m cruising down Crenshaw Boulevard in my red low-rider and my boot is full of weed!”

“Man’s is carrying a bare blade around my Brixton yard”

"Whatever you do, do *not* tell my mother..."

“I’ve got a house where I cook crack in the basement”

“I cut coke with paracetamol and sell it on the corner of 41st street”

One listen to a 50 cent album and the cops could find and shut down most of the gangs in New York. Type “hip hop video” into a YouTube search and you’ve got a free Police tip-off line! You can see the rapper’s face, what car he drives and he’ll tell you the illegal activities he’s doing to boot…

"These are the cars i transport my weed in, the number plates are..."

Why the fuck the police aren’t doing this I’ll never know…

Everyone surely remembers the small hand-held craze that swept the world 25 years ago(!) that went by the name of Tamagotchi (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tamagotchi)

"Tama-who-who?"

You received a precious little egg that was yours to keep and raise. You gave it a name that was dear to your heart. You chose what and when to feed it, and when you wanted to play with it. Don’t feed it or over-feed it and it dies.  The better you looked after it, the longer it stayed alive, and the longer it stayed alive, the better chances were it would breed and the joy would spread and continue…

Which to me, seems to be a little bit like the way people use Twitter (@bonesandmoans is where you’ll usually find me)…

You pick your beloved username carefully and away you go. You feed it with words and subjects and hashtags and see which ones it likes (from retweets) and which ones it doesn’t (from blocks). You don’t feed it enough (don’t tweet) or feed it too much (get blocked for spamming) and it dies.  The better you look after it, the longer it stays alive, and the longer it stays alive, the better chances are it breeds (follow more/more followers) and the joy spreads and continues…

Baffled beyond belief. I’m pretty knowledgable and intelligent. I have some semblance of a decent education and I can use big words. But this one thing has really got me stumped… the idolisation of shitness.

I remember when I was little I looked up to and idolised some really worthwhile people. Ian Wright (before Thierry Henry showed up) was Arsenal’s top goal scorer of all time. He was amazing. Gave his all every game and reaped the profit of hard work and determination. Bon Jovi wrote all their own songs, played all their own instruments and made (at the time) some top music. These people were my idols…

Wrighty's 118 advert was a shambles...

Oh but how things nowadays have changed. My prime and most relevant example are One Dimension… sorry, what’s that? oh… sorry, One Direction. I have constant access to TweetDeck whilst still being able to work and get to watch the trends on a pretty regular basis, where upon this “band” seem to constantly be. Lets look at their track record. Five kids who weren’t good enough to make it through X-Factor auditions as solo artists. Five kids who couldn’t win X-Factor as a group. Five kids who haven’t released any music in the six months since they “broke through”. Just one Nintendo DS advert where they dicked about on the hand-held device in a flat that obviously belongs to Cowell. And these five kids are idolised to the hilt for nothing after failure after nothing after nothing. No wonder Britain is broken with heroes like that.

Fresh from River Island...

The Wanted are up there too, usual in some trend-war response to One Dimension being there. Five rejected TopMan models who do awful karaoke are not idols. Millions upon MILLIONS of teens praising, admiring and applauding what is basically, failure.

Pages and pages of Facebook and Twitter profiles and statuses quoting Marilyn Monroe, reputedly unreliable and difficult to work with and then ended up topping herself in her mid-thirties…

"Damn vindaloo..."

Cheryl Cole is the “Nation’s Sweetheart” but all she does is do the odd bit of miming with her T’n'A in tight spandex and judges a karaoke contest (which she showed she couldn’t do at the end of the last series of X-Factor when refusing to vote in a childish squabble). And lets not forget she beat up that toilet attendant in a night club in a rumoured racist attack. What a role model…

"Yes Captain Cowell sir, anything you say Captain Cowell sir..."

Walt Disney’s huge and undeniable movie reputation always covers the fact that he is hugely rumoured to be unbelievably anti-semitic…

And I don’t want to belittle the serious nature of Cervical Cancer but Jade Goody’s illness and death was afforded the levels of sympathy and media attention that were given to Princess Diana. She was thicker than pig shit and a bully, and like Cheryl Cole, had a penchant for beating people up in night clubs…

Dear Kids,

Please find some folks who are worth idolising and give them the praise and adoration they deserve.

If you are looking for a place to start, try your mum and dad and work up from there

Regards

The Procrastination Nation

Everyone’s favourite little over-obvious sexual innuendo-er Rihanna strutted into the charts this year with a lovely little ditty called “S & M”, where by she claims to be a huge fan of the sexual orientation known as sadomasochism including infamous lyrics such as…

“Chains and whips excite me…”

“It’s exactly what I’ve been yearning for, give it to me strong…”

“Make my body say ow ow ow…”

Which is all well and good… if you’re into S & M then that’s what you’re into. Making a song about it is not a problem…

"you WILL listen to my soong!"

I just find it particularly strange that someone who is turned on by domination and being hit with whips and chains (which, as far as I can tell, hurts like all-mighty fuckery) has a restraining order out on Chris Brown, who only gave her a dead arm and a chinese burn? Make your mind up woman…

Chris wore his Grandad's best tweed suit to court...

And of course, being of that age, you are a bit mischievous and naughty and you do some things you shouldn’t or some things that you didn’t know you shouldn’t. All part of growing up. And as any parent should insist, you are told to “say sorry”.

Apology accepted...

But I’ve got it stuck in my head that this is inherently wrong. Saying sorry is one thing. Any one can say sorry. Sorry. There, I said it. But am I sorry? not in the slightest. How many criminals stand up in front of the powers-that-be and say that they are sorry, but on their release, are straight back to raping and pillaging. “Sorry I’m late” is a complete lie, you’ll probably be late again and you’ll say sorry again then you’ll be late again…

Um, yeah, that...

“Sorry, I forgot”… unlikely story, you’re probably glad you forgot as it required less brain power and less effort than if you’d remembered.

So come on people, lets not teach our kids to say sorry. Let’s teach them to be sorry… and understand why they need to be sorry, or else our next generation could end up being a bunch of tardy, amnesic, remorseless criminals with no idea of respect or authority… and proof this is happening already you ask? three words…

Jeremy Fucking Kyle…

When a picture is worth 1000 words, most of which, he can't spell...

I was tootaling around Asda yesterday and the subject of the movie “The Hangover” cropped up. Hadn’t seen it, fancied seeing it, and with the new one hitting cinemas soon, maybe the first one had made it to the bargain bin and could be picked up for around a fiver. The answer was no. Now in the mood for an unseen DVD to detract from the woeful saturday night TV, the prowl was on. The Social Network reared it’s head. Two disc special edition, seven squids. Nods all round. Even Charlie Sheen would agree, winning! Unseen, good reviews and plenty of notable awards…

With how popular Facebook is and with it being forefront in the news during its ground-breaking inception, I already had a good idea of the story and thus the reason I didn’t really have any inclination to fork out Vue’s unfounded prices to see it at the cinema.

Depending on where your social networking allegiances lie, this will be a bit of a marmite blog post for you. My allegiance has shifted in the last year or so towards Twitter and away from Facebook. In my opinion, Facebook has run its course and is now on that plateau that leads into the next wave of “the next big thing”. And if Mark Zuckerberg was looking for some kind of crowning glory then this film was absolutely it. Even though you get the idea that he isn’t the type of person to get to the top of the pile and then stop, I have to wonder if there is anywhere further for him to go? What does the world’s youngest billionaire do when the only thing he knows how to do reaches such a beautiful climax?

He leaves us a piece of cinematography that has more layers than his programming code. The Social Network shows everyone that yeah, fuck you, I can do whatever I want. Anything i can think of, i can make happen. Mark Zuckerberg is the modern-day version of Disney’s ideal that “if you can dream it, you can do it”. There is the confidence boost element where Sean Parker describes how the kids amazing ideas used to be handed over to the adults to nurture them to maturity… “BUT NOT ANYMORE!”

"BUT NOT ANY MORE!"

Anyone who can make something happen, no matter their age; as long as you have the motivation and the ability you should be keeping your ideas precious and nurturing them yourself. Don’t let anyone get in the way of making sure it happens, not even your best friend. Sacrifices have to be made. All of these strong moral fibres stitched into the story before you’ve even mentioned the fact that it’s about Facebook.

And in this day an age, started by the likes of Mr Zuckerberg, where what is cool is what is popular, I think we over-look what is good. I will gladly hold my hands up and admit that I have taken many a cheap-shot at Facebook without realising (until watching the film) that it is good. The movie documents this in the beautifully simple way that Mark has created Facebook to be. When my grandchildren ask me what social network (or whatever they’re called when that time arises) I used when I was a lad, I’ll hand him this £7 DVD and say nothing more than “I’m CEO, Bitch”…

Exactly...

Facebook as a tool and as a piece of written software is absolutely amazing and it is usually what we use it for and who we use it with, are what make it great… and if you are struggling with that principle, the “unfriend” button is the one you’re looking for…

Dear Mr Zuckerberg,

You don’t know me and I barely know you, but I have said some derogatory things about you and your work in the past, without knowing the full story.

For this, I am sincerely sorry. I hope that one day, we might be friends.

Regards,

The Procastination Nation

"Winning..."

But more recently, a few fakes have stepped up to the plate to ruin the reputation of a few real things. The first one in a tan. The only time you could get that beautiful golden brown skin tone was a two-week trip to the Med. And people came to notice, it was a sign that you had done well for yourself and earned a break in the sun.

"Not winning..."

This has been taken away from those hard workers now. All forms of brown, orange, terracotta and clay shades can be purchased by any one of any age in bottle or sun-bed form. All of those who have been away on holiday and come back will a real tan are now tarnished with the same brush as the fake possé. And now that fake tan is so popular, you can’t really defend your natural tan. As with most areas of society these days, it’s easier to scorn and bring people down than congratulate them and bring them up…

And the same with tits. I’m more of an ass-man myself but i can always appreciate a decent set of juicy bangers. But in the same way, any lady with the fortune to be gifted with the correct DNA to have a stunning pair of breasts is now assumed to have had implants as such great wabs would be unachievable otherwise…

Unlike your face...

And it can be said for so many things, spotify is a fake itunes, pepsi is a fake coke, corned beef is a lie, ryan giggs is a fake husband and having a fake ID is way cooler than having real ID…

"18? i've got socks older than that..."

I guess what I’m trying to say is… I find it really hard to believe that a word like “fake” with such negative and contradictory connotations is now considered to be better than real? The world is a strange place…

Cider has developed a pretty bad reputation over the last 20 years or so, the chosen poison for the extreme lower classes, homeless and dependants alike. But in the last three years, the best bi-product of the apple has had an image boost, firstly from the likes of Magners and Bulmers who had regulars drinking cider from pint glasses with ice rather than from a three-litre plastic bottle in the park. Strongbow even straightened up their act on the back of this and rebranded with some snazzy advertising, and now with the likes of Kopparberg throwing all kinds of fruity flavours into the mix, the street-cred of cider is at an all-time high…

Until April of this year. Piggy-backing on the cider company’s hard work to rejuvenate their image, Stella Artois has brought its wife-beating reputation to the table with the release of Stella Cidre, which i’d imagine makes you want to beat your wife AND your mother-in-law as well. Cider has to go back to the drawing board. Well done Stella, 20 years hard work wasted. I bet Scrumpy Jack is turning in his grave…

Time for a quiz question now, multiple choice in fact. You are driving down a road at 50mph. The speed limit is 60mph. You see a speed camera ahead. Do you a) maintain the same speed b) slow down to 40mph ”just in case” or c) pull over and GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY!

Dear Bruno Mars, you are a liar. You have not done nothing all day as your “lazy song” suggests. You have been listening to Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz on repeat since you woke up. And then you wrote a song based on what you heard. Go away and try harder, regards, me, p.s you’re a dick…

And just while i’m on music, although it would appear that Will.i.am is at the head of the Black Eyed Peas, I have a different opinion on the situation. He is more like the Ringo Star. Fergie and the other two had planned a beautiful cover of “The Time” but Will kicked up a stink because he wasn’t allowed to play with his AutoTune on the song. So they have him 30 seconds in the middle of the song to “do his thang”… DIRTY BIT! Ruined the whole thing…

A few weeks later, in the studio again, Fergie and the other two were making a nice r’n'b lovey-dovey song called “Just can’t get enough”. Again, with no need for AutoTune, Will got his knickers is a twist and, after learning their lesson from last time after he ruined the middle of the song, they gave him the last minute this time to SWITCH UP! and that way, make sure listeners could enjoy at least the first 2.30mins of their song. Basically, Will.i.am should just go away… forever…

Enough of music, films next. I think this is the only non-negative point in this post. 52 days until Transformers: Dark of the Moon. That is an awful long time for me to maintain an erection. There is one man and one man only that can make me horny and that is Michael Bay. Back to regular moaning…

"and a bit of eye candy in the background for good measure..."

Saw the trailer for Priest this week. I can’t tell if its a ”not really a sequel but kind of is a sequel” to the Da Vinci Code or if Paul Bettany is so short of work that he has already been type-cast to play a grouchy assassin vicar for the rest of his life?

And to finish on films, it was May the 4th this week which has become better known as “Star Wars Day” after the immortal phrase  “May the 4th be with you…” I like Star Wars, I like what it stands for and the story that it paints. But is a 35 year old play-on-words really the best way to honour such an amazing piece of cinematography?

I’ll finish up entertainment (in the very loosest sense of the term) with what seems to count as reality tv in the absence of Big Brother. Anyone who I spend any real time with doesn’t even have the words The Hills or Jersey Shore in their vocabulary, for one very simple reason…

Watching brainless bell-ends act worse than the most pompous prick you could wish to meet is not something that is worth their time. But for some god-awful reason, UK tv producers have decided that we need The Only Way Is Essex, Made in Chelsea and now Geordie Shore to match up with the US equivalents. Why not just have half-hour shows of people shouting “look at how much of a FUCKING MASSIVE COCK I can make everyone else who is from Chelsea, Essex and Newcastle look!” Fuckery of the very highest calibre…

I was walking through Leeds the other day after H&M had just put their summer collection in the window. For men this season, white linen EVERYTHING and mainly in suit form. Had to pop in just to check my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me and I thought i’d entered the walk-in closet of a bad guy from Miami Vice, and not the cool version with Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx, the not cool 70s version with nothing cool in it. This will be the sixth year in a row I will be in jeans and a plain tshirt…

And the power of fashion reared its head this week. I am old enough to remember when you wanted to get into a nightclub, you had to be wearing trousers, absolutely no jeans allowed. But the power of fashion now means you can get in wearing jogging bottoms and an undervest…

And in a slightly more serious but very similar situation, the PM and his missus rocked up to the Royal Wedding both hatless, which by regal standards, is an uber no-no. Fashion taking over tradition yet again… I wonder how long it will be until “rock out with your cock out” becomes a literal fashion term…

I’ve talked about the weather before and people’s ridiculous over-reaction to it, but another recent stint of rain has meant the douches are out again, so here is a subtle suggestion/warning. They are called golf umbrellas for a reason. You have the width of a golf course to unleash them. So if you are a four foot woman with an eight foot brolly on a six foot path… all you are going to do is take people’s eyes out… and its barely spitting… and the rain will give your dirty face the wash that it needs… sort your shit out…

Last time I checked, advertising was supposed to make people want to buy/use your products, right? So why the fuckery is that twatting Meerkat and that opera singer that the whole world would like to silence on tv? They make me want to NOT use their services in case I have to put up with them on their websites as well! And when I talk about it with other people, i’ve never heard a different opinion…

And i’ll finish with customer service, and this has happened twice to me recently. A twitter companion set to complaining about BT’s dire service, and having been on the end of it myself, I weighed in as well. BT then replied offering assistance to our complaints. Well, if your “out-sourced” customer service team knew enough english past the limited script you supply them, then you wouldn’t need to troll social network sites to find disgruntled customers. The only thing British about British Telecom is their customer’s amazing ability to queue politely for a long time. SwiftCover, that goes for you too, employ dicks, get dicks…

Oh, and it was my cat’s second birthday this week, so… many happy returns to Dizzee (Rascal) and (Driving Miss) Daisy, two years young!

Happy Birthday!

It seems like a pretty simple thing to avoid if you were to go back in time 15 years with Doc Brown and that little guy with the shakes in their funny car, to just before the invention of that little pesky bastard known as the Text Message, the SMS… the “tex”…

"if you hadn't been putting that stupid shirt on, you might have made it on time!"

Now, when I was a lad you could quite easily arrange anything for anytime with any amount of people… take the following dialogue as a prime example. Imagine this conversation as taking place (fictionally) today, but 15 years ago:

Me: dude, I’m so glad we’re off tomorrow, I’ve taped some awesome tunes off the radio 1 chart show last sunday and i want to listen to them on my Walkman!

Friend: sweet man, we’ve also got monday off for the May Bank Holiday, you doing anything?

Me: nothing bro, fancy going down the park for a game of footy?

Friend: great, you bring your brother and use a landline (WTF?!? :-s) to call a, b and c… and I’ll call w, x, y and z and we can play 5-a-side.

Me: sounds like a plan batman. 4pm at the park and bring your ball. I accidentally kicked mine into the grumpy old neighbours garden and I don’t dare knock on his door to ask for it back!

Friend: see you there!

And then when the fictional monday comes around you could guarantee that all ten of the afore-mentioned are there in shorts and shinnies and ready for a right good kick about. But fast forward to now. everyone involved has an iphone, android, simbient etc etc and multiple social media platforms on said phones:

Me: alright mate, how was your weekend? ready for a game?

Friend: it was good mate, you heard from everyone else?

Me: Well my brother’s Facebook status said something about a hangover so I doubt he’s coming, a’s relationship status has changed to “its complicated” so he’s probably having a barney with his missus, b was tweeting about his mum having a go at him and c’s foursq said he was at tesco in town so he won’t make it here in time. w’s checked in at work this morning so I assume he’s been called in, x has had the same Facebook status all weekend so I don’t know where the hell he is?!? y liveProfile’d this morning about a relative’s birthday party and I haven’t heard from z?

Friend: *beep beep ba-beep*

Me: who’s that?

Friend: its z, he text saying he’s running late, he’ll be here in ten minutes, but he’s got to go at half past.

Me: fucking great, 2-on-1 football is going to be just tops!

Friend: oh shit, I forgot the ball! why didn’t you inbox me and remind me?

Me: man, I knew I should have set up a Facebook event!

So why on earth has it become so socially accepted to be late, or not turn up at all? It’s because technology has allowed us the privilege being able to tell people we will be, without having to say it to their face and deal with the reaction/disappointment. It happens every day. Even when people do use social media such as Events (on FB) people are always late. Set up an event now and set the time at 8pm as an explicit start time and see how many people turn up at 9? And consider some of the “OMG can’t wait” and “soooo excited” messages you see on the event walls… if you were that excited about it then you’d be there on time… How many times do you have someone say “yeah great, meet you there” and then not? And then have to deal with the awkwardness next time you meet… “oh you know, like, I was going to, but then like, you know… meh, like, you know”… one of those infernally infuriating sentences that I can easily translate into “basically couldn’t be arsed” (see previous posts for definition of literally)…

It’s not rocket science, it’s not even rocket maths… fuck it, you could probably get an A* in rocket arts & crafts on this one? If it takes you two hours to get ready, maybe start getting ready two hours before-hand? If it take 30 mins to drive there… leave 30 mins before you need to be there? And if you can’t be arsed to go then say so, don’t make me have to interpret your filthy lame excuse the next morning…

"Was going to write a funny caption but..."