For ten seasons I managed to avoid the summertime lure of Big Brother, with its shiny logos and and rampant nutters and press coverage hogging. Yet, I have fallen at the last hurdle and succumbed to watching the final 11th season. I am hooked. I've even sneaked a few minutes viewing pleasure from the live stream. Seriously, who actually watches that? Other than the poor sods that make it and the person who writes "Rolling News" for The Sun.
I must be going soft, because I think the reason I've kept with it is the blossoming romance between John James and Josie. I don't think I've ever heard myself with such a ridiculously sappy phrase before, I hope this won't become a routine thing for me. But they are so sweet, as sickly sweet as noshing down the entire takings from a successful Trick Or Treating excursion. He is being an utter gentleman, another sentence which rarely enters my head - though not for lack of soppiness, more due to the general lack of it in menfolk. He is a good looking guy, maybe not my cup of tea, but still, he could have his pick of the laydees. What with all the tits-out skinny types floating about, in the early days I figured thats exactly what he'd do. But the bastard has only gone and flung my theory that 99% of men keep their brains in their boxers right out the window. Okay, so maybe I should just include him in the 1% that make my theory a rule and not law, but at the very least he has increased my faith in blokes to reduce the percentage to maybe 95%.
Josie is a champ. Great personality and thats what she uses, she doesn't rely on her looks. I'm not saying its because she can't - by no means is she unattractive - but it is her personality that makes her a genuinely beautiful person. She obviously doesn't think that, she very much doubts it anyway. She keeps referring to her size negatively too, and while she's no size zero, she's hardly morbidly obese!
And so John James falling for Josie has proven that maybe he isn't after one thing. Its proven that maybe looks really don't matter as much to people as I fear, and that maybe whats on the inside really is what matters to people, not double D cup and 0% body fat and having a face thats like summat off d'telly.
I think what I'm trying to get at is that I see myself as being a bit like Josie. Loud mouthed and usually laughing, would talk to the wall and get on well with most people, yet really very insecure about the way I look and really very doubtful of being in any way attractive to someone. So maybe thats why I've gone a wee bit sappy and gooey over them, it is a little bit fairytale. And unlike the Bridget Jones movie, this is real. And gawwd only knows I've had my fair share of Bridget Jones moments. You know, the eating Ben and Jerry's and listening to sad music type moments, not men vying for my affections by wrestling in public sort. Then again I love ice cream and hate confrontations, so its win-win really. But where is my knight in a rather off putting oversized beanie hat? Hmm? Le sigh.
So if he turns around after Big Brother ends and its all a sham, I will start burning men at the stake, or just move into a dingy flat, buy several cats, wear only dressing gowns, and liberally rub myself with cabbage to get that authentic crazy old lady smell and accept my fate. At least I'll stop using hideous phrases like "blossoming romance" - shudder.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Top Of The Pops
I think I'm simultaneously aging while getting younger, hence they cancel each other out and keep me on the linear space-time continuum, yet I feel the effects of both. I hear the Top 40 and despair at the atrocities it holds while bopping along happily with the rest. I wish I was 12 so I could get giggly over Justin Bieber and not feel like I should be on some sort of list.
For example, I've taken to listening to Example (heh heh... ah.) I shouldn't like him. Really, I mean just LOOK at him
You can tell he doesn't drink his beer, but swigs it, and uses "Oi OIIIIIII!!!!" as a geniune form of greeting, and all his trainers are freakishly white. He sounds like he's listened to The Streets album a few too many times, but not picked up any of the wit. But tweak my nipples and call me Francis, but I can't not like his stuff. And I cringe at the thought.
3Oh3 are another gripe of mine. Two obnoxious little titfarts, clearly funded by mummy and daddy, with sod all talent. They aren't even particularly good looking and they sure as hell can't dance, as is painfully clear in their new video.
My favourite part of the video is the lanky long haired one awkwardly flailing his arms about in an attempt to dance while he ooooohhh's his way through the chorus praying for Ke$ha to take over. I have issues with this song other than the video though. Seriously, you're trying to tell me your first snog culminated with hands in pants action? Either you were a late starter and trying to catch up in one fell swoop, or someone has taken advantage of you and you should probably have reported it, or at least have some form of therapy. As for Ke$ha - please, just go home, have a good wash, put a comb through your hair. There must be some whack off her.
Trust the trannies though to do it right. Scissor Sisters new song is quality.
For example, I've taken to listening to Example (heh heh... ah.) I shouldn't like him. Really, I mean just LOOK at him
You can tell he doesn't drink his beer, but swigs it, and uses "Oi OIIIIIII!!!!" as a geniune form of greeting, and all his trainers are freakishly white. He sounds like he's listened to The Streets album a few too many times, but not picked up any of the wit. But tweak my nipples and call me Francis, but I can't not like his stuff. And I cringe at the thought.
3Oh3 are another gripe of mine. Two obnoxious little titfarts, clearly funded by mummy and daddy, with sod all talent. They aren't even particularly good looking and they sure as hell can't dance, as is painfully clear in their new video.
My favourite part of the video is the lanky long haired one awkwardly flailing his arms about in an attempt to dance while he ooooohhh's his way through the chorus praying for Ke$ha to take over. I have issues with this song other than the video though. Seriously, you're trying to tell me your first snog culminated with hands in pants action? Either you were a late starter and trying to catch up in one fell swoop, or someone has taken advantage of you and you should probably have reported it, or at least have some form of therapy. As for Ke$ha - please, just go home, have a good wash, put a comb through your hair. There must be some whack off her.
Trust the trannies though to do it right. Scissor Sisters new song is quality.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
R.I.P. Maxtor Desktop 3000
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Minutes ticked by, still the sound echoed, showing no sign of stopping. The whirring of machines could still be heard if I listened closely. I repeated the same checks again. Still no response. This must be where they get the Casualty sound effect for the life support machines.
I tried to deny it. Left it for a few days, in vain hope it would magically repair itself. When this didn't work, I trawled internet forums for advice, to no avail.
I had to just accept it. My external hard drive had died. Never to be accessed again. Devastated, like I've lost a friend. Melodramtaic? Maybe. Still, friends have extended deep sympathy in my hour of darkness (or rather, silence).
I'm guessing there is about 1000 albums plus various singles, hours of video and tv shows, and pretty much ALL my camera photos from the last 4 years. Gutted.
So right now, my music collection consists of CDs that I bought as far as about 2005, then nothing until my last few weeks worth of downloads, so I have about a 4 year gap in my music. Grr. I really miss lovely Florence and her Machine though, so much so that not even watching BBC Three, which soundtracks everything with Florence, can fill the void. If anything, i have noted they have increased the use of La Roux on their programming.
AND, to make matter worse, I'm sans iPod. Stupidly, i left it in Cork, and won't have it back til next weekend. Woe betide me. I've grown really very attached to my iPod since I converted at Christmas. I swore off iPods many a time, vowing to never fall foul of their shiny charm. However, I was a fool. They do live up to the hype. Only problem is now I'm craving an iPhone. Kick me please. Of course, Vodafone decide now is the time to announce they are to supply the iPhone from the end of this month. Corporate gits, understanding consumer demand and need!!!
Beep.
Beep.
Minutes ticked by, still the sound echoed, showing no sign of stopping. The whirring of machines could still be heard if I listened closely. I repeated the same checks again. Still no response. This must be where they get the Casualty sound effect for the life support machines.
I tried to deny it. Left it for a few days, in vain hope it would magically repair itself. When this didn't work, I trawled internet forums for advice, to no avail.
I had to just accept it. My external hard drive had died. Never to be accessed again. Devastated, like I've lost a friend. Melodramtaic? Maybe. Still, friends have extended deep sympathy in my hour of darkness (or rather, silence).
I'm guessing there is about 1000 albums plus various singles, hours of video and tv shows, and pretty much ALL my camera photos from the last 4 years. Gutted.
So right now, my music collection consists of CDs that I bought as far as about 2005, then nothing until my last few weeks worth of downloads, so I have about a 4 year gap in my music. Grr. I really miss lovely Florence and her Machine though, so much so that not even watching BBC Three, which soundtracks everything with Florence, can fill the void. If anything, i have noted they have increased the use of La Roux on their programming.
AND, to make matter worse, I'm sans iPod. Stupidly, i left it in Cork, and won't have it back til next weekend. Woe betide me. I've grown really very attached to my iPod since I converted at Christmas. I swore off iPods many a time, vowing to never fall foul of their shiny charm. However, I was a fool. They do live up to the hype. Only problem is now I'm craving an iPhone. Kick me please. Of course, Vodafone decide now is the time to announce they are to supply the iPhone from the end of this month. Corporate gits, understanding consumer demand and need!!!
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
I think I’m having a mini life crisis. The sort where you take stock of what you’ve done in life and panic, and wonder at what point did it all go tits up. Or has it gone tits up? AHHH! Why didn’t I do it this way? What the hell did I do that for? Stop that! Do this! Shit shit shit!
Currently my panic is: What happened to my hobbies? I used to do stuff. Be interested in stuff. Know stuff about stuff. 17 years old - I played bass guitar every day, went horse riding and spent a lot of time helping Michelle out with her horses; I obsessed with music and could reel off reams of pointless music trivia. I was known for my love of obscure, unheard of bands. I followed the results of international show jumping and eventing. I played computer games, like Zeus: Master of Olympus. I had written half the school magazine aged 11. I got the best Junior and Leaving Cert results in my school. I won a Credit Union Poster competition – ooh, the dizzying heights.
And now? My spare time is filled being hung-over, on a bus, scowling at tourists, and doing assignments in a mad panic. And Facebooking. Lots. At least I admit it, which is something.
I don’t like to lay the blame, but I will anyway, firmly at the gates of UCC. Maybe not their fault directly, but I think that’s when it started going arseways. I lost my nerdy attributes. Most likely because I didn’t really want to be there.
And funnily enough, the gleaming allure of becoming a Lidl manager doesn’t exactly excite me enough to while away my hours in the library. I don’t know what my plan is really. Will I do a top up degree? Will I try to get a masters? Just what the fuck am I going to do for the rest of my life? Sure, the idea of frequenting the gay bars of Dublin and playing Little Miss Socialite is all well and good, but not exactly practical. Unless the George want to fund my appearances...
So far, my “hobbies ideas” list is somewhat vague... so far I’ve got driving lessons and toying with the idea of going back to horse riding, given I’m moving out of city centre soon. So Daft.ie is a temporary hobby. I’ve trawled through the freebie culture stuff in Dublin, and enjoyed that. Maybe try and get into writing some more. But I need ideas. Any are appreciated! Or I’ll just have to delete my Facebook account in the vain hope it will free up more time*.
*Ha! As if...
Currently my panic is: What happened to my hobbies? I used to do stuff. Be interested in stuff. Know stuff about stuff. 17 years old - I played bass guitar every day, went horse riding and spent a lot of time helping Michelle out with her horses; I obsessed with music and could reel off reams of pointless music trivia. I was known for my love of obscure, unheard of bands. I followed the results of international show jumping and eventing. I played computer games, like Zeus: Master of Olympus. I had written half the school magazine aged 11. I got the best Junior and Leaving Cert results in my school. I won a Credit Union Poster competition – ooh, the dizzying heights.
And now? My spare time is filled being hung-over, on a bus, scowling at tourists, and doing assignments in a mad panic. And Facebooking. Lots. At least I admit it, which is something.
I don’t like to lay the blame, but I will anyway, firmly at the gates of UCC. Maybe not their fault directly, but I think that’s when it started going arseways. I lost my nerdy attributes. Most likely because I didn’t really want to be there.
And funnily enough, the gleaming allure of becoming a Lidl manager doesn’t exactly excite me enough to while away my hours in the library. I don’t know what my plan is really. Will I do a top up degree? Will I try to get a masters? Just what the fuck am I going to do for the rest of my life? Sure, the idea of frequenting the gay bars of Dublin and playing Little Miss Socialite is all well and good, but not exactly practical. Unless the George want to fund my appearances...
So far, my “hobbies ideas” list is somewhat vague... so far I’ve got driving lessons and toying with the idea of going back to horse riding, given I’m moving out of city centre soon. So Daft.ie is a temporary hobby. I’ve trawled through the freebie culture stuff in Dublin, and enjoyed that. Maybe try and get into writing some more. But I need ideas. Any are appreciated! Or I’ll just have to delete my Facebook account in the vain hope it will free up more time*.
*Ha! As if...
Sunday, May 24, 2009
They always said I was like my father...
...And I'm picking up a few of his habits at an alarming rate, especially when I spend about only 10% of my year in the same county as him. Up until a few years ago, I thought the resemblance was merely physical - same eye colour and shape, dark hair, and stupidly big feet. But now its getting far more than genetic.
I think I first noticed this strange phenomena in a drunken state. When I return home from an evening's merriment, I appear without much warning, much like dad. In the same fashion, I pop my head round the living room to to assess how much noise it is acceptable for me to make - all while trying to give the illusion of sobriety. I find that this only ever leads to you appearing drunker than you actually are. Regardless of whether people are asleep or awake, the ritual continues in the same way. Proceed to the kitchen, switching on every light along the way, and go straight for the kettle. Now, to ponder what to feast upon. Dad will go for the frying pan or more often, he will try to execute a seriously complex sandwich, requiring the fridge to be left open for about an hour. The added bonus of such a culinary delight is the sheer amount of cutlery and crockery that can be used, leading to an opportunity to make further noise with the dishwasher.
I, however, usually opt for the simple bowl of cereal. I bloody love cereal. But I've become a real fan of the classic cheese and ham sandwich, or cooking sausage rolls for the 10 people in my kitchen at 5am.
This is followed by a return to the living room, and viewing countless, pointless pages of teletext, or since getting Sky, stuff-that-pops-up-when-you-press-the-red-button. The only time I have used that little red button while sober is for MTV2 news and for the Beeb's Olympics coverage because I wanted to watch the showjumping and not two people swimming for 10km. Once drunken-munchies are consumed, its off to bed.
Another shared hobby is watching the deep sea trawler programmes that can be viewed on Sky at any given time. I don't know why I find them so enthralling, I have no interest in the subject, I don't wish to pursue such a career, nor does it affect me in any way. At least dad has the excuse of being obsessed with fishing and such. But they are essentially all the same. The season is bad. The nets broke. They all start bitching at each other like menopausal cranks because they get about 4 minutes sleep a week. The food is shit. They encounter a life-threatening storm. Then all comes good in the last quarter of the programme, they net a cornucopia of fish, the weather calms and they all get home safe and sound for a big sleep. Lovely. Yet it will never get old. Am I alone on this one?
I've always been a social butterfly, a quality I attribute to my dad. Everywhere we go, he knows someone, failing that - meets someone who knows someone he knows. In the last year or so, this heredity trait has really taken flight. Its not the weekend unless I have made a new best friend or introduced a newbie to the joy of "Alrigh' my luvver?". The talent of being able to hold a conversation with a stranger on any topic is proving a valuable one in the world of retailing. Much like being an expert on stuff you know virtually nothing about, like aubergines. I don't have the first clue about cooking them, but I can reel off quite a spiel if a customer asks me; Dad can bullshit his way through a conversation about soccer quite convincingly, though I'm certain he knows shag all about it.
Maybe I've sat on the tills of Lidl for too many Monday and Thursday mornings, seeing people's glee in rushing in at 8am to fill up a trolley with cheap plants and gardening gear (it is pretty cheap...). Or maybe I've inherited Dad's interest in gardening. As a hobby, he is quite sporadic about it. For months - nothing. Then the first bit of sun and he is out mowing the grass, making potato beds, moving the evergreen trees AGAIN, and talking about "sheltering plants" that he believes can be made to create a fort like structure around our measly bit of bog. Every few years, nothing beats a bit of fencing. The man loves to fence stuff needlessly. But living in Dublin sorta puts a stop to me indulging my green-fingered urges. There are some dead flowers on my windowsill, but they look right arty in the starfruit cider bottle.
There is a fishing tackle shop beneath my apartment block... should I ever find myself in there on a spending spree, then I'll know its time to seek professional help.
I think I first noticed this strange phenomena in a drunken state. When I return home from an evening's merriment, I appear without much warning, much like dad. In the same fashion, I pop my head round the living room to to assess how much noise it is acceptable for me to make - all while trying to give the illusion of sobriety. I find that this only ever leads to you appearing drunker than you actually are. Regardless of whether people are asleep or awake, the ritual continues in the same way. Proceed to the kitchen, switching on every light along the way, and go straight for the kettle. Now, to ponder what to feast upon. Dad will go for the frying pan or more often, he will try to execute a seriously complex sandwich, requiring the fridge to be left open for about an hour. The added bonus of such a culinary delight is the sheer amount of cutlery and crockery that can be used, leading to an opportunity to make further noise with the dishwasher.
I, however, usually opt for the simple bowl of cereal. I bloody love cereal. But I've become a real fan of the classic cheese and ham sandwich, or cooking sausage rolls for the 10 people in my kitchen at 5am.
This is followed by a return to the living room, and viewing countless, pointless pages of teletext, or since getting Sky, stuff-that-pops-up-when-you-press-the-red-button. The only time I have used that little red button while sober is for MTV2 news and for the Beeb's Olympics coverage because I wanted to watch the showjumping and not two people swimming for 10km. Once drunken-munchies are consumed, its off to bed.
Another shared hobby is watching the deep sea trawler programmes that can be viewed on Sky at any given time. I don't know why I find them so enthralling, I have no interest in the subject, I don't wish to pursue such a career, nor does it affect me in any way. At least dad has the excuse of being obsessed with fishing and such. But they are essentially all the same. The season is bad. The nets broke. They all start bitching at each other like menopausal cranks because they get about 4 minutes sleep a week. The food is shit. They encounter a life-threatening storm. Then all comes good in the last quarter of the programme, they net a cornucopia of fish, the weather calms and they all get home safe and sound for a big sleep. Lovely. Yet it will never get old. Am I alone on this one?
I've always been a social butterfly, a quality I attribute to my dad. Everywhere we go, he knows someone, failing that - meets someone who knows someone he knows. In the last year or so, this heredity trait has really taken flight. Its not the weekend unless I have made a new best friend or introduced a newbie to the joy of "Alrigh' my luvver?". The talent of being able to hold a conversation with a stranger on any topic is proving a valuable one in the world of retailing. Much like being an expert on stuff you know virtually nothing about, like aubergines. I don't have the first clue about cooking them, but I can reel off quite a spiel if a customer asks me; Dad can bullshit his way through a conversation about soccer quite convincingly, though I'm certain he knows shag all about it.
Maybe I've sat on the tills of Lidl for too many Monday and Thursday mornings, seeing people's glee in rushing in at 8am to fill up a trolley with cheap plants and gardening gear (it is pretty cheap...). Or maybe I've inherited Dad's interest in gardening. As a hobby, he is quite sporadic about it. For months - nothing. Then the first bit of sun and he is out mowing the grass, making potato beds, moving the evergreen trees AGAIN, and talking about "sheltering plants" that he believes can be made to create a fort like structure around our measly bit of bog. Every few years, nothing beats a bit of fencing. The man loves to fence stuff needlessly. But living in Dublin sorta puts a stop to me indulging my green-fingered urges. There are some dead flowers on my windowsill, but they look right arty in the starfruit cider bottle.
There is a fishing tackle shop beneath my apartment block... should I ever find myself in there on a spending spree, then I'll know its time to seek professional help.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Exams: A Guide To Procrastination
I have my final exams this week. And that can only mean one thing: An inevitable sense of guilt over the lack of study I've done or am doing. Of course, I'd much rather let my conscience battle this impending doom than actually do something about it, like study perhaps. Besides, there are so many entertaining, yet utterly pointless activities I can distract myself with.
Welcome to the art of procrastination.
5 years of secondary education, 2 (almost 3 - wahey!) years in UCC and now in DBS, has taught me many a valuable lesson. Such as self-motivation and a drive to learn and discover. I've whole-heartedly embraced these skills in finding new ways to put off what I really should be doing.
Given the time of year, exams looming for many, and what with me trying to waste time, I thought I'd share my best discoveries. Some obvious, some which come only after extended (no) study time.
1)BEHOLD! The power of the inceywebs! As David O'Doherty says "If you spend longer than 5 minutes on the internet at a time, you're avoiding something far more important that you're supposed to be doing". Its probably how the internet was invented in the first place. The possibilities are endless; Cats that look like Hitler, b3ta.com, lolcats, tetris (or N-Blox. Its not tetris at all at all), YouTube and of course the curse of Bebo or Facebook... Hell you might even end up setting up a MySpace for yourself.
Which brings me to another amazing way to pass the time. The complete overhaul of your profile on your social networking site of choice. Poring over which shall be your new profile picture, dreaming up witty introductions, and debating whether or not you should admit to your secret love of Mariah Carey in the music section. If guilt is really eating away at you, turn that guilt into a merciless friend cull - deleting the clutter of randomers. Then, with your workload cut down somewhat, comment everyone on your friend's list, no matter how pointless the post. They'll only be delighted, and you've probably done them a great deal in aiding them in their own procrastination.
2) Reorganise your MP3 player - yet another realm of possibilities. Go on a download spree, delete the ones that you've listened to far too many times and have tired of, make playlists to suit every mood imaginable. "Walking through the park of a morning", "I'm having an existential crisis", "Calvin Harris obviously wants me to bear his offspring", and "I'm off to Tesco now" are just a few themes to get you going.
3) Discover your new favourite band/comedian/tv show/celebrity-you'd-molest-in-their-sleep-given-half a-chance. Alluc.org will ensure you need never feel the compulsion to study again, failing that - chortle.co.uk will list pretty much every comedian going. You pick a random name, toddle off to YouTube, et voíla. They may be painful or they might be your comedy epiphany, but you've just killed 3 minutes. Congratulations.
4) Maybe not so utterly pointless activity (they are all worthwhile endeavours!) is cleaning. A timeless classic. That hob is a bit grubby, eh? Get out the Cilit Bang and put on the the marigolds. Put some elbow grease into it! Hell, d'ya know what? Wash the floor. Its a disgrace. So what if it was only washed yesterday? And the bathroom! I can hear the germs from here! BLEACH! I cleaned my room yesterday, and thats really saying something.
5)House perving on daft.ie. Set the minimum at, hmm... say €3.5 million. No maximum. And ta-da! Drool ahoy at pictures of houses that you'll never set foot in, never mind live in. Probably. But, hey, you can dream. My favourite finds so far are:
-Half an island off the coast of Kerry, with lots of dolphin pictures. Sod the house.
-The converted church.
-The castle with a MOAT! I only wish it had a drawbridge.
-Mansions in Kildare which fulfil my childhood dream of having a huge house and a grand estate full of ponies and peacocks.
WARNING: This may prove to be an incentive to study by fuelling your ambition to be successful.
6)Change your dietary habits so meal preparation becomes an elaborate and time-consuming task. You've got exams coming up, you need to stay well fed! Hence your need for 3 course meals. And extended shopping trips to Tesco and Lidl, perusing the aisles. Hint: White sauce needs to be stirred continuously, if you're looking for something that keeps you in the kitchen for quite some time. Or make pizza from scratch. Cook for everybody in the house. And wash everything afterwards meticulously.
7)Look up cheap flights and holidays and daydream about all the wonderful things you'll do. Fiddle around with the dates stubbornly and see if you can cheat those Ryanair bastards into paying taxes only.
8)Start playing Solitaire, no matter how ridiculously hard it is with a laptop touch pad.
9)"Organise" your notes. This preparation to study will fool you into thinking you've actually done some study. Leading of course to a well deserved tea break.
10)Write a guide on procrastination.
Welcome to the art of procrastination.
5 years of secondary education, 2 (almost 3 - wahey!) years in UCC and now in DBS, has taught me many a valuable lesson. Such as self-motivation and a drive to learn and discover. I've whole-heartedly embraced these skills in finding new ways to put off what I really should be doing.
Given the time of year, exams looming for many, and what with me trying to waste time, I thought I'd share my best discoveries. Some obvious, some which come only after extended (no) study time.
1)BEHOLD! The power of the inceywebs! As David O'Doherty says "If you spend longer than 5 minutes on the internet at a time, you're avoiding something far more important that you're supposed to be doing". Its probably how the internet was invented in the first place. The possibilities are endless; Cats that look like Hitler, b3ta.com, lolcats, tetris (or N-Blox. Its not tetris at all at all), YouTube and of course the curse of Bebo or Facebook... Hell you might even end up setting up a MySpace for yourself.
Which brings me to another amazing way to pass the time. The complete overhaul of your profile on your social networking site of choice. Poring over which shall be your new profile picture, dreaming up witty introductions, and debating whether or not you should admit to your secret love of Mariah Carey in the music section. If guilt is really eating away at you, turn that guilt into a merciless friend cull - deleting the clutter of randomers. Then, with your workload cut down somewhat, comment everyone on your friend's list, no matter how pointless the post. They'll only be delighted, and you've probably done them a great deal in aiding them in their own procrastination.
2) Reorganise your MP3 player - yet another realm of possibilities. Go on a download spree, delete the ones that you've listened to far too many times and have tired of, make playlists to suit every mood imaginable. "Walking through the park of a morning", "I'm having an existential crisis", "Calvin Harris obviously wants me to bear his offspring", and "I'm off to Tesco now" are just a few themes to get you going.
3) Discover your new favourite band/comedian/tv show/celebrity-you'd-molest-in-their-sleep-given-half a-chance. Alluc.org will ensure you need never feel the compulsion to study again, failing that - chortle.co.uk will list pretty much every comedian going. You pick a random name, toddle off to YouTube, et voíla. They may be painful or they might be your comedy epiphany, but you've just killed 3 minutes. Congratulations.
4) Maybe not so utterly pointless activity (they are all worthwhile endeavours!) is cleaning. A timeless classic. That hob is a bit grubby, eh? Get out the Cilit Bang and put on the the marigolds. Put some elbow grease into it! Hell, d'ya know what? Wash the floor. Its a disgrace. So what if it was only washed yesterday? And the bathroom! I can hear the germs from here! BLEACH! I cleaned my room yesterday, and thats really saying something.
5)House perving on daft.ie. Set the minimum at, hmm... say €3.5 million. No maximum. And ta-da! Drool ahoy at pictures of houses that you'll never set foot in, never mind live in. Probably. But, hey, you can dream. My favourite finds so far are:
-Half an island off the coast of Kerry, with lots of dolphin pictures. Sod the house.
-The converted church.
-The castle with a MOAT! I only wish it had a drawbridge.
-Mansions in Kildare which fulfil my childhood dream of having a huge house and a grand estate full of ponies and peacocks.
WARNING: This may prove to be an incentive to study by fuelling your ambition to be successful.
6)Change your dietary habits so meal preparation becomes an elaborate and time-consuming task. You've got exams coming up, you need to stay well fed! Hence your need for 3 course meals. And extended shopping trips to Tesco and Lidl, perusing the aisles. Hint: White sauce needs to be stirred continuously, if you're looking for something that keeps you in the kitchen for quite some time. Or make pizza from scratch. Cook for everybody in the house. And wash everything afterwards meticulously.
7)Look up cheap flights and holidays and daydream about all the wonderful things you'll do. Fiddle around with the dates stubbornly and see if you can cheat those Ryanair bastards into paying taxes only.
8)Start playing Solitaire, no matter how ridiculously hard it is with a laptop touch pad.
9)"Organise" your notes. This preparation to study will fool you into thinking you've actually done some study. Leading of course to a well deserved tea break.
10)Write a guide on procrastination.
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