The Importance of Being Boring
This post is going to be as boring as fuck. In fact the entire aim of this particular post is specifically to bore the arse off you with as much tedious, drawn-out, and convoluted bullshit as possible so it brings you to the point of having to push your tongue back into your mouth with your fingers. I know what you’re thinking: why does it need to be this specific post that does that when there are plenty of other articles on this blog that do much the same thing? The answer to that question is a simple fuck you. But there is a fairly valid reason for me wanting to pursue the path of the boring fuck and embrace total monotony.
Allow me to explain: the nearest and dearest in my life will have no doubt come to realise with a jarring sense of
concern hilarity that my current existence is anything but plain sailing. In fact it’s about as far from plain sailing as the Titanic was when it was still being built and clearly not seaworthy. I alluded to this existential chaos in my previous post with the help of an artificial intelligence unit from the legal team at Cyberdyne Systems who moderated the content, but suffice to say my general day-to-day life does not bring about the sense of calm that one would expect from someone who likes nothing better than lying around in his underwear and scratching himself.
It must be said, however, that I’m not inferring my current life is a hip and happening, vibrant splash of colour, pizazz, and interesting anecdotes that would generally characterise someone who’s actually living a life of colour, pizazz and interesting anecdotes. I get the feeling from the people who know me that it’s more a sense of ‘oh, what the fuck’s happened now?’, or ‘beer. Just give him beer’. There’s a sense that whenever my parents see my number flash up like a digital heart attack on their phones they both actually begin the onset of a myocardial infarction in fear of what’s potentially coming at the other end. It’s almost guaranteed that when I text my mates for a pint they know they’re going to have to endure a bug-eyed rant not seen since Kevin Keegan’s ‘I would love it if we beat them‘ tirade. Suffice to say – and it behoves me to not go into specifics here – that being me, and anyone around me, is quite the exhausting state of affairs at the minute. But I shall leave it at that lest I accidentally go into specifics here.
And this brings me to the main point of this article: precisely because there’s never a dull moment in my life (in the most depressingly uninspiring of ways) it’s compelled me to want to live the majority of the other side of it as an utterly boring sod. There are few things I want more than someone to come up to me and say that I live a life that’s comparable to that of a garden slug just prior to some sadistic little bastard unloading a waterfall of salt on to it and watching the bugger squirm. It’s come to the point that it’s a physical and emotional necessity to be utterly dull and uninteresting with all aspects of my being in order to balance the bedlam of everything else. And in the midst of all this chaos, the perceived banal things in my life are the very aspects that do in fact make my current existence more agreeable. Allow me to demonstrate my banality by listing the ways with which I balance the pandemonium with the ponderous:
1. Cooking A Whole Meal Of Food/Pottering In The Kitchen
For ages I steadfastly refused to advocate this based on the fact it takes roughly two hours to prepare and cook a meal, and approximately four minutes for me to devour the bastard. Plus the kitchen always looks like what my living room looks like after my baby son spends roughly thirty seconds in it. So I thought this was grossly unfair. However, it’s become apparent that despite all the washing up, the swearing, and the blood, there’s a sense of smug satisfaction that comes with cooking a plate of food that’s edible enough for you to upload a photo of it to Instagram for a bunch of dullards to look at. My time in the kitchen keeps my focus enough to not dwell on the disharmony, and to reassure my Mam that I’m not subsisting on Budweiser.
2. Putting On A New Pair Of Socks
If there’s anything better than this I want to know what it is. Fuck off to your old socks with the holes, and the smell, and the Hepatitis C molecules in them. Grab a new pair – Gucci, Adidas, George at Asda, ones your Grandma knitted – and put the buggers on. It’s like an orgasm in your feet. Soft, nourishing, comforting. I defy you not to wank once you have a fresh, brand spanking new pair of socks on.
3. Climbing Into A Freshly Made Bed
Better than putting on a fresh new pair of socks is climbing into a freshly made bed. The important thing to remember here is making sure you get the right fabric softener so that your entire existence smells like your freshly made bed. The silky soft touch of the cooling sheets, the uplifting aromas of comfort and calm, the soothing warmth of reassurance as you drift into a snooze enveloped in the crisp lushness of the bed. It’s positively heroin-like. Not that I’ve ever tried heroin but it’s probably a knocking bet that snuggling into a freshly made bed smelling of meadows and heroin is probably what injecting heroin feels like. Just don’t have a wank and spoil all the freshly made innocence. #freshlymade.
4. Completing Some Form Of Physical Exercise
There’s no doubt about it that taking part in some form of cardiovascular activity engenders a fulfilling sense of accomplishment, well-being and egotistical superiority. Just look at those morons on Facebook who post the details every time they go for a run. Everybody definitely, without a doubt, completely cares that they ran around a little Google Map for 15 minutes. It’s the epitome of the boring fuck. Still, it’s a truth self-evident that the whole concept of physical fitness encourages a more positive outlook, and I wholeheartedly agree as I’ve recently returned to the gym and got my running shoes on again. That satisfaction of completing a session; the relaxing ache of my tired muscles; the sense of achievement, and the relaxing post-workout shower and chill out when all’s done. It’s quite wonderful – simply because doing it allows you to go all in on the three bottles of wine in the fridge. A simple half hour jog or trip to the gym removes the guilt for you to become an alcoholic. Don’t deny it. You all do this. You frigging do, you lying bunch of sods.
5. Writing Boring Shit For The Internet
‘Boring’ and ‘shit’ being the operative words. But, you know, it helps.
I’ve no doubt it’s a terrible tragedy for someone of my age to be happy to settle for the life of the dreary. I am only 21 years and 192 months old after all. But, to be perfectly honest, it’s for the best given my current circumstances. And it didn’t do old Obi Wan Kenobi any harm. He lived a boring life of solitude on Tatooine after Revenge of the Sith, and he got to come back as a ghost in later life and help defeat the Empire. So there’s hope. A new hope.
Anyway, this blog post has waffled on much more than I ever thought possible but as long as you’re bored out of your skulls then my work here is done.
Posted on 22/07/2017, in Everyday Bullshit and tagged being boring, boring bastard, boring fuck, borrrrrrrrrrrrring, existential fuzz, i only came for the cake, properly policed - it must not repeat not - turn into an all night rave. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.