300 Posts, 3 Years and 7 Deadly Sins

This blog has reached two milestones.

Firstly, in March, it was the 3rd anniversary of the creation of the Plastic Mancunian – a series of posts about gibberish.

Secondly, this is the 300th such post.

That’s an average of just about 100 posts of poppycock per year or around eight a month.

Scary isn’t it?

It’s hard to believe that I have managed to maintain this momentum, to be honest.

To celebrate (or commiserate from your perspective, dear reader) I thought I would attempt a meme, revisiting the seven deadly sins because it highlights some of the subjects I have been babbling about for the last three years.

I briefly contemplated them before (you can read about my wild musings) but this meme is a little different. And of course I have stolen it, adding to my reputation as a cyberthief.

Do I care? Not one jot! Here goes.

(1) Pride – Seven great things about yourself

My bum. From a female perspective, apparently I have a wonderful bum. I have never quite worked out why women are so drawn to men’s arses but that’s hardly surprising since I don’t understand women at all. I have been told on quite a few occasions that my bum is my best feature.

My eyes. I have wonderful blue eyes. If you can stomach looking at my face for long enough to scrutinise my eyes, apparently you will see a couple of sexy blue orbs that are quite attractive. A word of warning – please focus on the eyes. If you drift towards the rest of my face you might just cough up a little vomit.

Intelligence. I have an honours degree and my job is to make sense of technology and the hardware that accommodates it. My head is also stuffed full of useless trivia that only becomes useful during quizzes.

Happiness. I may come across as a grumpy old git but I rant with a smile on my face and have the desire to grab a hold of life and ride along shouting “YEEHAHHH!!!!”

My love of kids. It’s a shame that my own two lads have almost grown up. I am childish by nature and therefore find it easy to cast away adult seriousness and play with kids of all ages (resulting usually in kids telling me off for being TOO childish).

Mr Nice Guy. There’s a saying that nice guys finish last. I hate offending people, hurting people’s feelings, abusing trust or just being nasty to people. Maybe that’s why I hate my job so much.

Self-deprecation. I don’t take myself seriously. Why would anybody do that? Nobody is perfect and I enjoy telling people just how imperfect I am (mainly on this blog).

(2) Envy – Seven things you lack and covet

Great hair. I absolutely hate the sentient mop of wiry fluff that resides on my head. I have been at war with it ever since I can remember – and the hair is winning.

Money. I am comfortable but still dependent on a salary. In the next six years I have to help my two lads to find their way through university with soaring fees, soaring cost of living and soaring accommodation costs. My house is getting there but Mrs PM’s plans have turned it into a money pit. It is like a monster gobbling up all of my spare cash. And I love to travel but cannot always find the cash to do so. I really need that winning lottery ticket.

Perfect vision. I am both short sighted and long sighted and have to wear glasses to do just about everything.

Freedom. I am chained to the man (that corporate arse) who dictates the direction of my life; the man who tells me how to live, what to do and how to breathe. I hate the man and I want to destroy the chains that bind.

Youthful body. I look young for my age but now my body is beginning to show the signs of age that irritate me; aches, pains, flab, droops, slightly greying hair. I need to deflate my body and invigorate it with the energy of my youth.

Guitar virtuosity. I love rock music and the ability to play a guitar like any of my axe wielding heroes would be magnificent.

A good singing voice. Wouldn’t it be great to pick up my guitar with my new found skills and then be able to sing with a voice that didn’t render cats unconscious?

(3) Wrath – Seven things that piss you off.

What? Only seven?????

Pointless celebrities. Celebrities who have absolutely no talent whatsoever and have an army of morons hooked on their every move. The news is full of these people whose shallow idiotic lives are played out in front of us like a real life soap opera. There are magazines dedicated to their pointless existence. Why are they famous? WHY????

Politicians. Most politicians are hypocritical liars and I hate hypocrisy and lies.

The state of modern music. I plan to write a separate blog post about this so I will elaborate in due course.

People who hurt others and enjoy it. There is so much violence and anti-social behaviour in the world that it seems to be the norm these days.

January and February. These two months are the worst months of the year. Christmas has gone and in the UK we languish in the depths of the winter blues with freezing cold and dreadful weather and daylight that lasts only a few hours. They are depressing and awful.

Pomposity. There are people in the world whose arrogance is breath-taking. I loathe violence but when confronted by such a self-important dickhead all I want to do is punch him in the face. And I hate myself for that.

Television programmes for morons. There is so much shit on the TV at the moment that if I catch some of it by accident I find my IQ dropping every second. Who watches this crap?

(4) Sloth – Seven things you neglect to do.

Write a book. I am still battling with this – and losing sadly.

Learn French. I want to find time to learn French with a view to possibly spending more time there in later years. My job and procrastination combine to steer me away from it.

Jobs around the house. I hate DIY and I hate housework and I fight a constant battle with Mrs PM who tries to shame me into doing things to her schedule rather than mine.

Cycle to work. I am really going to try to push myself to do this next week – or perhaps the week after.

Sort out my junk. I am a bit of a hoarder by nature and tend to keep stuff rather than throw it away. Mrs PM is always nagging me to get rid of my junk. Sadly, her definition of junk differs from mine. For example she regards CD’s as junk. How dare she!

Cook. I hate cooking and I’ve somehow drifted into a rota with Mrs PM. I am always trying to avoid cooking (apart from when she’s not around – in which case I am deeply tempted to go to the chippy).

Ironing. Mrs PM hates ironing. She refuses to iron my clothes. I hate ironing. I refuse to iron Mrs PM's clothes. The result? A bedroom full of unironed clothes that only gets dealt with when it is physically impossible to get into the room.

(5) Greed. Seven worldly material desires.

A super car. I’m not a car person but I would LOVE to have a monster super car that made so much noise it woke the dead and then scared them back to death. One day I will drive like a lunatic around a disused airfield in a £500,000 rocket propelled super car. One day …

Gadgets. I love gadgets – even pointless ones. I would love to own every single gadget around at the moment, whether it is useless of not. It would keep me quiet for months.

First class travel. I want to travel the world in first class with my own private masseuse and champagne on tap. And when I get to my destination …

First class accommodation. I want to stay in the most expensive suites in the most expensive hotels – like the Peninsular in Hong Kong where for a few thousand a night you have your own butler.

Deluxe homes. Hotel accommodation can become tedious, even in the best suites, so I would like to own my own luxury house complete with pool and staff next to the beach in all the best places.

A football club. I am sick of Walsall being shit. I want to buy the club and inject obscene amounts of cash to buy the world’s greatest players and win absolutely everything.

Money. In order to get the above material delights I would of course require lots of cash – an endless supply of cash.

(6) Gluttony. Seven guilty pleasures.

Beer. I keep hearing bad things about beer and being a hypochondriac I struggle not to believe every word I am told. But then I sip that first pint after work on a Friday night and my worries are cast to the four winds.

Cheese. I am a slave to cheese. I absolutely love it (apart from Stilton and related rancid cheeses).

Bacon. Nothing beats the smell of bacon.

Steak. In South Africa I had a wonderful juicy medium rare T-Bone steak that was inches thick and the size of Johannesburg. I didn’t eat for days afterwards. But it was worth it.

Pork chops. Like Homer Simpson I love pork – to be honest its pork of any kind.

Sour Cream and Onion Pringles. I have been known to eat a whole tube of these in my stupid youth and I really suffered with bad indigestion. Still, it was worth it.

Fish and chips and mushy peas. Occasionally I wander down to my local chippy and order a large portion of fish and chips smothered with mushy peas and then devour them at home. Bliss.

(7) Lust. Seven love secrets.

This is easy – Mrs PM is the only one - and that's not exactly a secret. However, if we are talking pure lust then Mrs PM knows exactly what kind of woman makes my pupils dilate and turns me into a mutant dribbling puppy. But it is only lust – a pure and primeval desire that is never more than that.

And finally…

Please excuse the long post (I know I tend to go on a bit sometimes) but thanks for reading, even if you stumbled across this drivel for the first time.

The Plastic Mancunian will be back - sorry about that...