Oh the delusional self-aggrandisement! I never considered I'd write a post about myself when starting this blog. But, what with my other posts being about my petty little hatreds, it was pretty much inevitable really.
I've come to the conclusion of late that I am a boring person. What I mean when I say that is not that I make other people bored just by being around; at least, I hope I don't. Indeed if this was the case then it is safe to say that no-one is in fact is reading this, and, if that is true, then simply; bugger, shit, fucky wank bollocks.
Still with me? Good, that means I'm not 'that' sort of boring person then. You know, the kind of boring twat who makes you actually dread the day that your one mutual friend has to leave the room to have a piss or something, because then you're left listening to them drone on and bloody on about how their new Subaru Seatsniffer has seventeen more cylinders (it's always about fucking cylinders) than their Vauxhall Shitehawk ever did. Or the terrible situation of having to listen to one of their pissing holiday stories; now there's nothing wrong with a holiday story that actually contains something interesting; a funny situation, an amazing coincidence or just something that would hold the intended audience's attention. No, in fact these are the holiday stories that I do want to hear. What I don't want to hear are those holiday stories that tend to go "...and of course with my psoriasis we had to find a place that did that special sun cream, the one that smells of prunes but all they had was the one that smelled of olives and I don't like olives I like..." Because even though I still smile politely, inside I'm wishing several different bad things would happen to the person I'm looking at: 'maybe next time they'll get sucked into the engine...'
What makes me boring is that I do...nothing. I don't go out, I don't mean I'm agoraphobic I mean I don't go on 'nights out', or at least my understanding of the accepted definition of the term. That is tied, in part, to the fact that I don't go out and get pissed. I mean that in the British way of course, I get 'pissed' in the American way (meaning angry or annoyed) on such a frequent basis that someone confusing the two definitions would have to assume that I was an alcoholic. There's no righteousness behind it I just haven't liked any of the different alcoholic drinks I've had thus far and as such don't want to try any more.
People tend to have a hard time accepting that. They'd much prefer it if I didn't drink for a moral or religious reason. And I would be fine with that too if it weren't for the fact that I don't have a religion (and I'm not very 'moral' either...) So they take it upon themselves to 'help' me find an alcoholic drink that works for me, as if they've decided I'm missing out, so I must need assistance of some kind. Well let me tell you something you possibly weren't aware of: I'm perfectly happy (shut it) with being a non-drinker.
I'm a terribly self-conscious individual with little in the way of confidence, and while there are many people who feel the same way, they tend to be ones who utilise alcohol as a 'social lubricant', a term that makes it sound like a KY jelly dispenser that compliments you when you use it. Well without said alcohol I limit my attendance to social occasions to the minimum acceptable level. Bloody friends with their concern for my mental well-being and a general desire for my company, what awful, awful people...
Now that sounds like a case for being a drinker, except I value my ability to recall why I wake up with black eyes more than my inability to remember vomiting on a bouncer.
I think, at the root of it all, it is my abundance of contentment that is to blame. Not in a Zen, 'inner peace' way but more in an 'it'll do' sense. I'm happy just drinking orange squash or something to that effect, so I don't look for something else to drink. The idea of travelling terrifies me, so I stay put. And it goes on and on, I'm not spontaneous; if I haven't known about an impending social event for at least two days then I just can't go. I'm happy with routine; it's safe. It's predictable.
Or in other words; it's boring.
