Myspace!!!!!!!!!

Good mornin folks.

Of course I haven't been here for a wee while, have been introduced to myspace.com which has been commanding my attention for the last few weeks or so. I have built and personalised a page, stuck pictures and music on it, and added loads of mates which of course satisfies the ego as it creates the illusion of popularity.

Why not have a look, and why not build your own page if you have't already done so. Its a lot more interactive than this pure blog format.

myspace.com/nelsonimaximus

mates weights

This is an addendum to the last blog I wrote "mi duele mi tetes" - see below. It kind of sounded as if i was saying that all my mates have given up on being young and staying slim. This of course, is far from the truth, and a staement as sweeping as that is likely to see me being shunned by all of my remaining mates. Many of these peers have used the once considered girly word "diet" within my earshot, and without embarrassment, and for that I say hurrah! Some are eating less meat as they know that meat is high in calories and fat. Again, hurrah! Just wanted anyone reading to know I am on about the other fat bastards, not you. You're ok.

mi duele mi tetes

How good's your spanish? Mine isn't fantastic though I can get by - my lack of total mastery is probably because at school I enjoyed making random phrases that I found funny rather than learning the lingo properly. Hence my favourite phrases: "vamos el banco con una ciergo burro", which I believe translates "we go to the bank with a blind donkey", or "trigamos mas vino, rape", which I believe translates as "bring more wine, monkfish".

The title of this piece of blog is a cross created of two different sources. I didnt like learning the Spanish language much at GCSE level but the phrase "mi duele mi cabeza" (I've hurt my head) for some reason has stuck in there. The last word I heard one evening but only learned the meaning of a day later - and too late to be useful. I was on a camping type trip years ago with my mate Jamie and his spanish girlfriend and her spanish mate, who knew no English. It was fairly cold and this girl said to me "mi tetes esta frijo", which I only later learned translated as "my tits are freezing". Now there's a chat up line if ever I heard one.

OK Nels, you've deconstructed the title. Where are we going with this? Nowhere really. I have indeed hurt my tits, having embarked upon a savage bit of muscle workout. You see, being a veggie you are sometimes like a walking advert for the cause if you actually care about it. If you are skinny, pasty faced and always ill then people look at you and say "ah. The veggie diet is rubbish". However it doesnt work the other way. If you are a stinking wretched fatso with heart and stomach problems no-one says "ah - the meat eating diet is rubbish". So as a walking advert I have taken on responsibilities. One is to be slim and athletic and well muscled. Since I got my chin up bar set up I have been really going for it, ten here, ten there, reverse chin ups, and while I'm at it - the bar weights and the bullworker thingy. As a result I am aching a fair bit and am going about fondling my tits like a goddam pornstar. But I refuse like my peers to give up and descend flabbily into the lazy quagmire of middle age. I'm still a young lad!!!

When beer influences collide

I have been reading a fantastic book that my mate Dave lent me - "Man Walks into a Pub: a sociable history of beer" Now I love historical stuff. I especially like obscure history that is funny and random. And if the book is written in a funny way then congratulations, you have just ticked all my boxes, you saucy mare!

Now this book has opened up a brand new perspective for me. I was until recently a product of my youthful exuberances, as I'm sure we all are. I could have become a cider drinker (for fucks sake), but luckily was diverted from that path by youthful excess. Drinking cider all evening from 5 o'clock til coma with a double southern comfort as a chaser between each pint is going to lead you down a one way street to the kerb, where I sat, head bowed and resting on my knees, vomiting through the gap and onto my own footwear. The footwear was a write off, seemingly burned as if my puke was like the blood of one of Giger's aliens.

So cider dropped like a stone off my map (the mere smell STILL has my mind panicking and sending message to my legs to flee). I moved on, and tried bitter. Unfortunately I didnt realise they all taste different, and I accidentally bought the wrong bitter. I think it may have been Tetleys but am not sure, I certainly havent drunk it since. It was so foul that I couldnt even finish it. So ended up drinking lager by accident.

This book has given me a new angle and taught me such an incredible history of brewing. I especially loved the idea of the brew that the hard as nails Picts used to drink - an incredibly strong beer made from fermented heather which is actually hallucinogenic as well as alcoholic! The book has led me to reexamine my beer habits with a view to getting off newfangled chemically lager.

Now at a the same time and from a different source I recently discovered that Guinness (which I drink in tandem with lager) is made from fish. Yes I know this is a strange thing to say, so permit me to qualify. Part of the creation of Guinness is the use of Isinglass - no, not the mythical city in The Lord of the Rings. Also known as "finings", it is made from the swim bladders of fish. I'm sure loads of you know this already, but this frankly putrid ingedient is poured into some ales, stouts and bitters to collect the floating yeast sediments and take them to the bottom where they are filtered out, leaving a nice clear brew. Now as an ethical veggie, I don't want to drink something made from bits of fish. So Guinness is now off my menu choice (and I even wrote to them to advise them of this fact, in the naive hope that a centuries old company might change its practices because of me). Have these fuckers never heard of a goddam sieve to remove particles???????

But anyway - it leaves me in a bloody quandry. I dont want to drink lagers. I cannot ethically allow myself to drink bitters or stouts. So I am left with wine and spirits. All very well except for a couple of things:

SPIRITS -

If I am out drinking spirits with mates in a boozer, I am (A) either going to be sitting about for ages looking at my empty glass while my mates finish their long pints, or (B) I am going to drink much more quickly and end up absolutely slaughtered. Plus the expense!!!

WINE -

Plan B is to drink wine at boozers. But come on - you've spotted the problem already. If all your mates are on beer and you've got a delicate little glass of poncy wine you will be savaged by the crowd. I may as well turn up dressed in lavender and wave about a frilly handerchief. Maybe I need to bring a pewter tankard with me to macho up this most maligned of pub drinks. And maybe a big fucking axe too.