So, you want to be more creative and successful and totally rich whilst only working two hours a day on your super cool, dream job?
Well, here is a list of tips (a la
gapingvoid) that have helped me, and are completely guaranteed to help you, achieve those very things:
To be creative, first you must be uncreative.
Learn to hate your mother.
Grow, like a sunflower in a field.
Ignore your elbows.
Don’t wash your armpits with soap, use leaves.
Eat over your sink.
Master your own power, hold it in your hands like an injured door mouse.
Forget the world, your brain will lead you to the promised land.
Don’t look out of a window ever again.
Accept the uncertainty of certainty.
Kill a baby.
Roads that aren’t roads aren’t worth walking down, because they’re not roads.
Liberate yourself from the chains of conformity - write with tree bark on old shoes.
Check for lumps.
You have no need for walls, explode them with your mind bombs.
NEVER stand still. NEVER.
Eat only inspiration fruit, quaff only juice of creativity.
Never compare your own testicles with a dog’s pair.
Prepare yourself for fame and fortune, they’re coming baby.
Don’t EVER blog.
Warning: Do not kill a baby.
My friend has swine flu. Last Tuesday was my birthday and I spent most of the evening drunkenly trying to kiss her on the mouth and have sex with her in a pile of garbage. Luckily, she didn't let me. Still, she has the hog fever and today I'm starting to feel a little run down and achey. I'm trying not to panic here even though my friend has told me that it's nothing major. I don't deserve this shit. I'll tell you who does though: these douchebags.
Saturday was the 4th of July and whilst millions of Americans stuffed their gluttonous mouths with the dripping flesh of dead cows, us totally radical, XXXtreme roller-boarders and BMX bum-bandits, converged on Stockwell Skatepark for a BMX/skate jam and competition.
If you can't be arsed to go all the way to blustery Edinburgh for the festival, or, like me, you have to work like a coked-up Bolivian miner all summer, you can catch a special preview on Monday night at Leicester Square. It's called Fast Fringe and I will probably be there, but please don't try and stalk me.
Obviously, the biggest news of the week is the death of one of the world's most beloved entertainers. That's right, Billy Mays. The man who brought us so many hours of uplifting and edifying infomercials, a whole swathe of poorly named cleaning products and plethora of shitty little gadgets that did almost nothing, was found dead in his Florida home this morning.
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