LIFE: SO, YOU WANT TO EXERCISE?

The first time I went running was not great. Not at all. I got to the end of my road; I was out of breath, I had 2 stitches, and at least all of my muscles had cramp.

The first time I lifted weights, I pulled my pectorals. The physical pain I had because of my chest was pretty similar to the emotional pain that Tara Reid has because of her chest. Or Courtney Love. Her operation wasn't great either.

Looks legit to me.

But now I sort of know what I'm doing, and I run miles and feel pretty casual about it. I'm a bit like Road Runner - but less of a dick about everything.

Hullo, my name is Adam and today I'd like to talk to you about getting healthy and stuff. There'll probably come a time in your life when you look into the mirror at the disgusting monster that you have become and you'll think ':( sadface'. For me, this moment came in my mid-twenties. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't bummed out about my appearance or any of that noise, but I had gained weight. It was that little layer of comfort fat that you gain in a relationship, like a squirrel putting away nuts for the winter; but instead of nuts it's just takeaways, simple carbs, Haagen-Dazs, and shit.

Then you have a choice - you look at that disgusting, disgusting monster and say, 'Fuck it. I'm sure it'll sort itself out.' Or you can take control of the situation.

This is what I lerned on my journey towards a better me. You may learn something but probably not.


1) EXERCISE MAKES YOUR BRAIN HAPPY BY RELEASING CHEMICALS AND STUFF

Exercise makes your brain happy by releasing chemicals and stuff and that's why this section is called, 'Exercise makes your brain happy by releasing chemicals and stuff'.

Wikipedia says, "Endorphins ("endogenous morphine") are endogenous opioid peptides that function as neurotransmitters. They are produced by the pituitary gland and the hypothalamus in vertebrates during exercise, excitement, pain, consumption of spicy food, love and orgasm, and they resemble the opiates in their abilities to produce analgesia and a feeling of well-being."

tl;dr, exercise makes your brain happy by releasing chemicals and stuff. It's on Wikipedia so it must be true. Here's a diagram I made to explain the situation:

Endorphins in action.

2) HAVE A GOAL

You have to have something in mind and tailor your exercises towards that end. I wasted a lot of time just grinding my gears and going round in circles. I was exercising a shit-ton when I lived in Toronto, but it was mostly isolation exercises which target one muscle (bicep curls = biceps), instead of compound exercises which work a whole bunch of muscles (squats = glutes, quads, calves, and lower back). Compound exercises are better than isolation ones. I didn't know. 'Turns out it was all a complete fucking waste of time anyways because I wasn't getting enough protein to build anything. I wasn't making many gains. There's a link at the bottom for calculating the protein you'll need to gain muscle mass.

So, depending on whether you want to make gains (moar muscle-mass and size), or get lean (moar leanness and definition), you'll need to plan your exercises accordingly.

This blog isn't about exercise advice, it's about lols (for example, I was on the phone to the electric company yesterday and I said to the woman who was pissing me off, 'You're so stupid, I think that talking to you is making me stupid,' and one day I want to say to someone who's homophobic, 'You're as straight as Freddy Mercury, standing on a roundabout, drinking a bottle of dicks'. Hopefully, one day my dream will come true).

So I can't advise you about what exercises you should do. I don't want to mislead you. Because I love you. I don't want you to get hurt.

Check the links at the bottom of the page for people who're far more clued up about this stuff than me.


3) LOSING WEIGHT IS SUPERDUPER EASY

Did you know you can lose about a sixth of your bodyweight by simply cutting a leg off? It doesn't even matter which one. I know, right? Amazing. But if that doesn't appeal to you, you can lose weight pretty simply other ways. I will now explain these ways using words:

• DRINK MOAR WATER: Yes, water is boring, and water is not Pepsi Max, and water has no booze in it - but it's the easiest way to lose water-retention. Water-weight. I know what you're thinking, 'Drink more water to lose water-weight? Adam, you are a maverick. A handsome, handsome maverick,' but bear with me. Your body holds onto water because it thinks it might need it. It wants to keep you alive in case of an emergency. Your body doesn't know about all of the sweet, sweet water that you can buy from a shop or drink from a tap. If you flood your body with water, it will start to jettison all of its stored water. Then you lose your water-weight. Link at the bottom to calculate water intake.

• CREATE A CALORIC DEFICIT: This is as the single most import thing you need to do to lose weight, and yes, it does involve eating less or exercising more. Or both, if you're serious about getting lean. There are 3'500 calories in 1 pound of fat. To burn 1 pound of fat, you have to burn 3'500 calories. That's a deficit of 500 calories a day. That's a chocolate milkshake, or a quarter pounder with cheese, or a big bag of crisps, or 2 muffins, or 2 1/2 pints of beer, or a bottle of dicks. This stuff is not rocket surgery. Link at the bottom.

• EXERCISE: Have your cake and eat it. I've tried living like a monk and I spent about 2 weeks on a strict daily 1'450 calorie diet. It does work and you will see results quickly - but, man, it's boring. I like to think of it this way; if I'm going out to get wasted, or to eat a bunch of rich food that I shouldn't eat, then I'll burn it off the next day. Or the day after, depending on how disciplined I'm feeling. Think, 1 pint of beer = about 200 calories. You can burn that off in a 15 minute run or a 45 minute walk.

If you can get to the point where you're running and
boozing at the same time, then you win the internet.

4) YOU DON'T HAVE TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE

Yes, McDonnalds, Domino's, and all-you-can-eat buffets are not going to help you in your quest to be a better you. Not at all. Neither is drinking 5 pints of booze on a night out. But you can work around this. Yes, those little Chicago Town pizzas taste sweet, but they look like an Italian just had a prolapse on some damp cardboard; and if you microwave them then they taste a bit like that too. You can still eat pizzas and stuff, just make them yourself and use sensible ingredients.

There are loads of these 'healthy eating' websites. They have quick and easy recipes for all sorts of stuff, and they're not loads of ballache to do, either. Going back to pizzas - I made these cheeky little numbers for my friends, which were as simple as a wholemeal pittabread, tomato pasta sauce, low-fat mozzarella, pepperoni, and some oregano and shit. (It wasn't shit, it was probably basil or something.) They took about 5 minutes to make. They took about 5 minutes to cook. God made the same things for Jesus for his welcome home party. Jesus was omg so lol.

Jesus is always lol.

Also, you can still get drunk - just stick to spirits with a diet mixer, or a bottle of wine. A single 25ml spirit is around 50 calories. A bottle of wine (red, white, rose, or sparkling) is around 500 calories. That's why Hank in Californication is so lean but is also an alcoholic - because he sticks to the whiskey. (Probably because of all of the sex too. Sex is fantastic cardio (200 calories in 30 minutes), unless the girl just lays there like that sick dinosaur in Jurassic Park while you do stuff to her, in which case you have far bigger problems. I recommend you close this window, shut down your computer, and get your sex life back on track. In fact, it's probably her fault anyways, so you can stay here and lol and make her figure something out. What a selfish bitch.)


5) STICK WITH IT

I'm pretty sure most of the guys reading this have a set of dumbbells gathering dust somewhere in the house. I'm pretty sure most of the women reading this have one of those great big ball things that're supposed to help with sit-ups, or whatever those things do. Like a toasted cheese sandwich maker, like a lover that you're not compatible with, like a Christmas tree - these things are used non-stop for about a month and then completely forgotten about.

'You will always have a home in my heart.'
'You will always have a home in your home. Go home.'

They will not help you with your gains, or with your getting lean, by sitting in your cupboard.

Now, a lot of people say you should keep a log, or record your progress as you go. It can be encouraging. I'm far too disorganised for that - but I do see the merits of doing it. I think that the thing to do is just make a rough plan and stick to it. No slacking. No 'off days'. No 'treat days'. At least until you get where you want to be.

And if you do fall off the wagon (you will) then just make it up the next day, or later in the week.

This guy (totally not me) will sometimes inhale that filthy, dirty, filthy takeaway burger meal after a night out. But the same guy (again, nothing to do with me) will go for a run the next day. A real casual 10 minute mile x 3 will burn off about 400 calories. That's the burger. Then, to work off the chips, I like to volunteer with children and teach them how to plant trees. No, not really, I just spend time on the internet and stuff. You burned about 25 calories reading this post. This blog is helpful. You're welcome. I love you.


CONCLUSION:

Exercise can be fun. Genuinely. You will start to see results within about 3 months, if you're doing it right. I don't want to suggest exercises you should be doing, or routines, or diet plans - because, tbh, I'm still getting to grips with that myself and there's people out there far better qualified to do that than me (it's a big internet). There's a bunch of links on the bottom of this post which should help to sort your fat, lazy, sheet-of-cellulite ass out. If you want to.

You have to want to do it. For yourself. It's not worth doing it to impress someone, or strut around the beach like a prick, or because you want to look like some airbrushed piece of fiction in an underwear advert. You have to want to do this for yourself.

Yes, gaining and losing weight is a bitch. Men gain weight in their stomach, not their dick. Women gain weight in their thighs and bum, not their breasts. The human is not a perfect organism. But it can be nudged, kicking and screaming, towards some shadow or whisper of perfection. Whatever makes you happy. PROTIP: You can't target weight loss, either. You can do 100 sit-ups a day, but it wont make you lose your tummy any quicker. Weight loss occurs all over the body. Your belly, your thighs, and your bum will be the last to go. Sorry.

When I started all this, the exercise and stuff, I was made of wet paper and when I'm done I want to be carved from wood. I'm probably at a balsa stage atm. But, reader, lover, friend, I'm seeing all sorts of gains and getting so lean.

These are the things what I lerned from:

http://www.myfitnesspal.com/ Totally free calorie counter. It even has an app on Android (not sure about Apple) so you can scan the bar code of whatever it is you're eating. Includes a carbs, fats, and protein calculator. Don't feel self-conscious about using it. If anyone gives you any sass about it, just tell them to suck it. Tell them Adam told you to tell them to suck it.

http://www.wikihow.com/Build-Muscle Basic gains 101.

http://www.bodybuilding.com/fun/drobson175.htm Basic get lean 101. Includes water intake calculator.

http://tasteytemptations.blogspot.co.uk/2007/09/low-calorie-pita-pizza.html Lean food recipe. This isn't the one I followed (I can't remember where I found it. It's a big internet) but you get the gist.

http://www.youtube.com/user/twinmuscleworkout?feature=watch Bro-science advice. These guys are fucking legit. And lulzy. They have a bunch of videos about all sorts of stuff. Example:

http://www.shawnlebrunfitness.com/building-lean-muscle-mass.html Moar advice on gains.

https://www.google.com/ Figure it out.


Good luck. And remember - although it's what's on the inside that counts, if you look good on the outside, people will like you more.

Good night, internet.

SWEDEN: 2 OF 2

Sweden, what are you?

In this post I answer the tough questions. I've just come back from a week in Stockholm, or as the Swedes call it, 'Jogdaskfdbaljfalfh'. They do this a lot to words. More about that later.

My friends said before I left that it'd be mad expensive. They said a lot of things. The women are pretty and have long legs, they said. The city is beautiful, they said.

I know whether they were right or wrong - but I don't want to ruin the ending for you.

The flight was cheap as £70 worth of chips. Fucking win. It costs more to go to the edge of England on a train than it does to fly to another country on a plane. A return ticket to New Quay is about £80. Fucking fail. I went with 2 business associates of mine. 2 of the baddest dudes to ever walk the mean streets of Brighton.

From left to right - Me, Danny, Jez.

Danny 'Crack-Daddy Switchblade' Montez and Jez. (Jez doesn't have any nicknames. :( sadface). Danny's wiry and tall, with a sea of brown curly hair, and a face like a sad mole. Jez is squat and powerful, like a Henry Hover. Jez can do a shit-ton of push-ups. Jez doesn't fly well. He doesn't like the take off, he doesn't like the landing, and he doesn't like the bit in the middle. But that's okay, because you can buy booze at the Duty Free at the Airport and you can buy more booze on the plane. We stocked up on 3 litres of the good stuff before we left England. We thought that 3 litres of spirits would last us the bulk of the holiday. It didn't.

We also got loose on the train up to Gatwick.
Guess who's booze is who's? This blog has fun activities.

About 2 hours into our journey - Jez and I are as drunk as a Hen Do. Our tiny, piece of shit, plastic treehouse, economy flight seats are our nightclub. We are drunk and we are fun and we are cra-a-a-azy. We are pissing everyone off. We don't care. We are a 2 man Hen Do. The flight attendant refuses to give us any more ice for our whiskey cokes and our rum and cokes. "I have a medical condition and I need ice to cure me," I say. I think they must have a procedure about not dicking around with medical conditions. He brings us moar ice. I am lol. By the time our return flight comes around, I'm calling the flight attendants "Little bitch," and "Motherfucker". Stockholm did something dark and sinister to our language. More about that later.

I was so drunk by the time we got to the hostel, it felt like the whole journey - the train, the flight, the bus, the walk - took about 3 hours. I think door-to-door it took 7 hours.

This was the view from the bus.
Beautiful. Just beautiful.

We set up camp in the hostel. We're rooming with Some Spanish Guy and His Girlfriend Who Has a Sweet Ass, and another European couple, Steve and Judith. Steve isn't called Steve. Steve is Dutch and his name is Sietce. We can't pronounce that - so we offered to call him Shih Tzu, Schnitzel, or Steve. He likes Steve the least, so obviously, that's the name we choose for him. Obviously. 

Steve is a 6 ft Ken Doll. He's so asexual I think if I pulled his shorts down I'd be greeted with a perfectly smooth, penisless sheet of pink plastic. He also has the lulziest speech impediment I've ever heard. He occasionally drops a word to the back of his throat and stammers it out in a low hum, like a fridge compressor turning on. I've laughed right in his face like twice now - but I can't help it. He is offering the lols. The lols must we answered. (Judith is just called Judith). We like Steve and Judith very, very much. 

Steve and Judith. Guess who's who?
This blog has fun activities.

It's a beautiful city. It looks like someone started building a dolls house and didn't know where to stop. It's a gingerbread house made of stone. It's a toy built for grown ups. I've lived by the sea my whole life but this is the best I've seen it done.

Yes, the women are lovely. Their legs extend a full 12 inches longer than they should, like they start at their diaphragm or something. But facially, I'm on the fence. It's like all the features are in the right place but the maths is wrong. I haven't seen 1 OMG IT IS STUNNG! woman since I got off the plane. I am :( sadface.

You can dress up like a Viking and stuff
at the National Historical Museum.

I meet some drunk Swedish guys outside. Danny's with me. Jez's having serious dicky-tummy issues. More on that later. One of the guys is being really obnoxious, but in a harmless and fun way. I think he's going for the shock lols. Brother, let me stop you there. I'm a veteran. I've seen stuff on the internet, man. I've seen some shit, man. Forget about the internet’s original purpose – the bold new age of shared learning. Instead it's devolved into the deepest, darkest ocean of shit known to man. Even sunlight doesn't penetrate that far down. Only the most highly adapted and specialised kinds of life can survive down there. They all look like abortions.

However, he did give me the purest lol I've had since I got off the plane. He's talking about this woman he's dating. "I know I've had a good date with a woman when she starts to cry," he says. I mean, what the fuck is that? What do you even say to that? I am lol.

I am always lol.

There's a slower pace of doing things here. There's no hustle or bustle. There's no rush. Maybe it's because it's an opulent holiday city. Or maybe we're just in the right part of town. It reminds me of how much I dislike London. There's no serious businessmen in suits charging around from A to B, or people beeping one another like mechanical 'fuck yous,' or dozens of people shoehorned into streets that can't contain them. It's just nice. Very pleasant. 

So far we've done things by the numbers. 'Got fucked up the first night. 'Went out to dinner (and got fucked up) the second night. The third day we jumped on a guided tour of the city by boat. It includes a bus tour too. Hop on. Hop off. It costs £35 for a 24 hour pass.

Our boat does not look this cool. Not at all.
Outside the Royal Warship Vasa Museum.  

Also, I'm off the booze today. I woke up at 5am and then again at 7am to be sick. I haven't been sick from booze for as long as I can remember - but doing the maths, I think I've gone through at least 1 litre of whisky in 2 days. Far too many alcoho-lols. I think, 'Imagine if I hadn't woken up and I'd just choked to death on my own vomit in some hostel?' Oh dear. Oh dear, I think. I'm off the booze today.

Which brings me to the price of booze here. We are hemorrhaging money. We're hemorrhaging money like a city council trying to come up with a recycling initiative. A single spirit and mixer is £10+. A beer is around £8 for 400ml. 

This. This cost about £7.

And the heads on the beers are far, far too big. Like the mushroom cloud looming over Hiroshima. For a £7 beer I expect no head. I also expect 2 beers, but then that's just me. Also, it's another one of those cities where you can't buy precious alcoho-lols just anywhere. You have to go to the Special Shop. It's called something real plinky-plonky, and like many of the words here, I cannot pronounce it. 

But it's cool - everyone seems to speak English dead proper like.

Some Spanish Guy and His Girlfriend Who Has a Sweet Ass both tell us to keep the noise down. This is on the first night. They're gone by the second night. Replaced with another plucky young adventurer, Rapey Dom. Rapey Dom's not his real name, of course. He tells us this story about how he once pulled a 14 year old girl in a club and made out with her accidentally. Accidentally, he says. Rapey Dom. Paedo Dom. Dom the Rapist. These are the names that we call him for his sins. He volunteered this information during a game of Kings. Part of the game is an I've Never section. I can't even remember what the fuck it is that he's never done - but it was genuinely an innocent mistake. 

Accidentally, he says.

We like Rapey Dom very, very much. Rapey Dom says that he thinks English women are ugly. We can't argue with him. But Brighton has some absolute gems, we say. We spend the third night convincing him. 

Then this happens. 

Daisy. Daisy is English.

Daisy looks like a birthday party that nobody turned up to. She's all slight, slumped shoulders and nervous laughter. Daisy is a half eaten bowl of custard. Beige. All the work we put into convincing Rapey Dom the merits of English women is undone the minute she walks into the room. And, man, does she like faffing around with her bags in the morning. She's there an hour every morning. Rearranging. Checking. Organising. I want to scream at her, 'Daisy, you disgusting animal, what the fuck are you doing down there?! What are you?!' But I don't. 

Danny and I go to the museum. Danny and I go for a walk. Danny and I go for a walk through the Old Town. Where's Jez in all this? Well to understand that, you need to understand about Chorizo. 

I didn't take any photos of the Chorizo.
Here's Danny in the brush museum.

Like I said, we can't afford anything. We can't afford to eat. Like cavemen discovering fire, we learn that we can buy hotdogs from Stockholm's street vendors for £3. Most of them are skins of old animal carcasses, and eyelashes, and dirt. And then there's the Chorizo - the Spanish sausage, the life giver, the angel with Paprika deodorant. We ate a ton of them the first 3 days. We try to mispronounce it as badly as we can. The Chorizo. The Chozero. The Chozerzorio. We do this to torment the street vendors. Whoever can speak the sacred word as poorly as possible, not laugh, and still get the nutritious hotdog wins. Oh, Chorizo. Oh, angel with Paprika smile. Jez supplemented this diet with booze and medicine-ball sized bags of Wotsits. Or, Wijslgflsgf, as the Swedes call them.

Here's Jez in his cesspit, hostel, hospital bed.
It was his tomb. He rarely left.

He got very, very ill. His bottom bunk bed became his death bed. We check on him every now and again for signs of life. There aren't any. Jez isn't here right now. Jez can't get to the phone right now but please leave a message. Danny and I press on.

The city is gorgeous. It's like that dream city from Inception. I can't be bothered to check on Wikipedia, but it was probably filmed in Stockholm.

I meet some gypsy people. They read my palm and say that I've been in love 3 times. I have. They say I'll fall in love again in August. I will? I think they robbed me, but I went on a charm-offensive and I think they reverse-stole all my treasure back into my pockets. Thanks, guys. I am :) happyface. 

Rapey Dom knows these 2 women and we go to meet them. They eat Reindeer meat. I wonder what Rudolph tastes like, because he looks like shit. 

We have a new hostel-mate. He's this Russian chap. Again, really, really lovely guy - but he looks liek a serial killer. I may not wake up tomorrow because I have been killed to death.

Stolkholm has these little parks and organic areas set aside. They shine all around the city like Christmas tree lights in July. Potted plants wouldn't survive in Brighton. Or London. They'd get replanted with empty cans of Carling and cigarette butts. Or vandalised out of meanness. Also, they don't lock up their bikes in Stockholm. 2 bikes have been stolen from outside our flat, back home in Brighton. Maybe it's a 'respect for your city' thing.

Some little island in the middle of the city.
It is pretty.

There's a lot of heritage here. Lots of galleries and museums and churches. The 3 of us walk into a church in the middle of a funeral. The woman on the front desk looks up from her books and her papers over equilateral glasses and gives us a look like, 'Guys. Guys, are you fucking kidding me?' We leave.

SO EMOTIONAL!!!1ONE

The 3 of us walk around the city for 2 days straight. Popular opinion before we came here was that the city has a beautiful X, Y, and Z - but no one had any specifics. Yes, it's attractive and historic, but it's sacrificed change to maintain that. I've only seen a whisper of red hair since I've been here. The only Black and Asian people seem to be tourists. If I'd had £1 for every handsome, blonde guy or long-legged, blonde woman I'd seen since I'd been here - I wouldn't need to shop at Lidl here. There's no variety. There's no diversity. The citys best selling point is also it's weakness. It hasn't changed.

This photo. This is the beginning of the end.

"Yo. That motherfucker's beautiful," Danny says about the building above.

"Ima gonna take a photograph of that bitch," I say about the building above.

It was the beginning of the end for our language skills. Everything - everything - became 'bitch,' and 'motherfucker,' and 'nigga' - OMG this got so out of hand. We talk like we're from Compton, or from N.W.A., or part of Snoop Dogg's entourage. 

"Don't move, motherfucker. Ima gonna photograph your ass," I say. To a statue.

OMG this got so out of hand. God knows why. Maybe we've been away too long. 

It was time to go home.

CONCLUSION: 

I like Stockholm. It's a nice city but a week's too long to stay there. Jez and I were done after 4 or 5 days. It's maybe somewhere I'll return to when I'm old and grey and retired. 

We met some lovely, wonderful people. The hostel (Old Town Best Hostel. See links and shit below. This blog is informative) was great, and great value, too. It was about £25 a night. Bargain.

You will not be able to afford stuff there. We had to shop at Lidl just to get by. I haven't had to do that walk of shame since I was a student. Apparently, if you live there, then it's all relative. Even minimum wage, crap, shitpiss, pisspoor jobs like McDonald's pay about £12 an hour. The women who work there are pretty hawt too. 

At £70 a flight, do it. It's well worth the mission.

Just stock up on booze at the airport.

http://www.ryanair.com/en - Cheap flights. 'Nuff said.

http://www.besthostel.se/en/ - Where we stayed. £25 a night. Bargain.

http://www.nationalmuseum.se/ - Fucking sweet gallery. Ignore the name. It's a gallery. £12 entry.

http://www.historiska.se/home/ Historiska Museet. 'Museet' means museum. I am clever. £4 entry with a discount book from the boat tour. 

http://www.stromma.se/en/STOCKHOLM/Tours/Stockholm-Sightseeing/Boat-Tours/Hop-on-Hop-off1/ - Boat Tour. Hop on. Hop off. £35 for 24 hour ticket. PROTIP: get it in the afternoon. Blag 2 days. Win.

SWEDEN: 1 OF 2

Fuck me. Just logging in to the site from here has been one of the single most painful experiences of my life - and back in the day I had 2 ingrowing toenails at the same time. Maybe you were right. Maybe I can't backpack into the sunset.

I have no internets here. This foreign language keyboard is kicking my ass. '@' is a '>', a colon is a 'фтв', and pressing 'Caps Lock' backs me out of the page. Truly, these are the most primitive of days, pour vous vous.

But I digress. I am in Sweden and I want to share my first impressions. I had a real malfunction trying to log in earlier, so papa's had to go real old school and use a pen and paper for the evening. I've been taking notes and stuff in the field. I ain't even got a notebook. The 'Receptionist / Door Man' don't sell no notebooks. I'm using like 8 A4 pieces of paper stapled together. Fuck me. 

This has taught me 2 things. 1) I cannot spell and rely far too heavily on the spell check function. 2) As I like words I really should have a notebook on me more often. (Also my hand writing is awful. Just awful). Anyways, I'm writing this from some hostel in the middle of Stockholm. I'm in some shitty internet cafe built into the building, where the energy efficient light bulb keeps turning off unless I wave my arms around like a retard every 5 mins and stocky blonde people keep bursting in like they're auditioning to be bad guys in Die Hard. You've got the part, Hans. Now jog on. But I'm full of duty free whisky and lols ‒ so I must press on.

This will be a 2 part affair. 1, when I came here. And 2, when I lerned stuff about here. Because of the technical limitations in this situation, there will be no pictures because I don't even know how to download stuff on this piece of crap computer. I am sorry, the internet.

I wasn't that sold on the idea of a hostel at first. I thought it would be full of annoying fucking kids keeping me awake. Turns out, we're the annoying fucking kids. We just got told off by some Spanish guy because he needs to get his snooze on. He can eat a dick. I'm by far the baddest dude here because everyone else is asleep and I'm the only one still awake and still boozing. But we have moar serious problems.

There's 3 of us here ‒ and the guy who should know the most about Sweden (he's dating a Swedish woman) has lost his bank card. He's only marginally less drunk than I am (we got pretty boozed up on the plane. And the bus), but he's very much the Aragon to our Pippin and Merry. We need him to get to Mordor. He's cancelled his card and shit, but I guarantee it'll turn up tomorrow in the bottom of his bag. We shall see.

We went out for a booze but tbh we don't have a clue where we're going and it was a pretty timid first step. A tentative toe into the pool. But the city is simply beautiful. I feel like the world is my crustacean. There's a lot my ex would've loved here. Architecture, history, culture, a disproportionately high number of American Cadilacs ‒ it's diverse. I like it. It reminds me of that village in Professor Layton on the Nintendo DS. Win. However, there's a lot of cargo pants here. More then should be seen in a major city. It's moar like an All Saints gig.

So that's my first impression. Normally I'd buff and polish this situation up before posting, but I don't think this piece of shit computer has got my back. I'm going to break it before we check out. Like really fuck it's situation up like in Office Space.

My friend asked me before I came here, "So, are you going to sleep with some Swedish women?" It's a fair question. There're some beautiful women here. Very long legs. But so the hair's blonder and the legs are longer but then there's some beautiful women back in sunny Brighton. I don't really know what I want to do. I'm just here for the lols mainly.

The thing is downtown Stockholm, reminds me of downtown Toronto, reminds me of London, reminds me of anywhere. The starless night of the inner city is as blank and impersonal as a city anywhere. It's the people who make it worthwhile. Do I really need to travel to know that?

I know that you'd love it here.

I noes that I need to go to fucking sleep. 

Good night, the internet. I love you. x

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DIET COKE MAN? (AND OTHER GENDER INEQUALITIES)

Hullo, my name is Adam and I today I'd like to talk to you about gender inequalities. Please don't get me wrong - I'm not trying to White Knight all womenkind here and I've been accused of misogyny more then once by stupid, idiot women - but something's gone wrong somewhere and men, once again, are massively in front. Well, in popular culture they are anyways. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

I was keeping it real casual on the way to work when I stopped to buy some pop because I am addicted to pop. As the bubbles began to dance the dance of life on my tongue I thought, 'What happened to the Diet Coke man?' The one from the black and white advert back in the 90's. That guy emasculated me just by being. He was built like an Adonis, effortlessly handsome, and aplha as fuck. And then a few years later there was a gritty reboot - in much the same way that the film studios are already working on another reboot of Batman, the franchise that was just grittily rebooted like 5 years ago.

This is legit. Go check IMDb and then punch the internet.

But I digress. The guy in the New Diet Coke advert - what was his situation? He was a little rat, but conversely all the women in the new advert had become hawter and stupiderer. It doesn't really seem fair on women. How did this happen? Well, I've no idea how this happened but I'm going to write words about it anyway and try to find out why equality became unequal. Again.

There's a lot of BS circling the Old Media these days about how all women are beautiful, strong, independent black queens. Dozens of stoopid programs, like the ones Gok Wan seems to endlessly churn out, are built around this ideal. Don't get me wrong - I agree that most women are beautiful, strong, independent black queens - but I don't think these programs are helping the situation at all. So it doesn't matter what women think about about how their bodies look, so lets make a program about what women think about how their bodies look? That doesn't make any sense to me - but then I'm just a big, dumb male.

'What a man tells you to look like doesn't matter, Moon Sister.
Welcome to my show where a man tells you what to look like.'

IMO it just preys on women. If it was such a non-issue then there'd be no need to make a program to celebrate it. Like, how many programs are there about my complete lack of interest in football?

Meanwhile, it seems like for us guys things have just gotten easier and easier over time. As long as you're funny and witty and all that good stuff - you can get away with all sorts of ugly. Just ask
Jason Segel. There's not that much expected of us. I know a guy who's the spitting image of this other guy that I went to high school with. These guys both look a little bit funky, but that's cool because Gok Wan says that it's what's on the inside that counts and there's no amount of unattractive that can't be remedied with a high-waisted belt. 1 of these guys is a lady-killer. 1 of them not so much. The only real thing that separates them is personality. Take the Indiana Jones films for example. 30 years ago, vaginas everywhere were trembling at the sight of this:

Ladies.

Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones is dashing and charming and made of win. He's also a sexual tyrannosaur and he absolutely loves killing stuff. In the first 3 films he straight up fucking murders like 50+ people. Win. Do you know how many people he killed in the most recent film, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull? 1 person. Well, not even 1. He just blows a poisonous dark back at some guy who shot him with a poisonous dart. So what's that - like half a kill? Weak. Also, the best my generation can muster in the handsome-adventurer / lady-killer department is this:

He has done more damage to the 80's
then cocaine cut with rat poison.

Shia LaBeouf. I had to check the spelling and Wikipedia says his full name is Shia Saide LaBeouf. That's like 3 1/2 names and all of them could be names of effeminate flamingos in a Disney film. Whereas women in films, even women in lol films who used to look like tubby, bleached dinosaurs, have become crazy hawt. Just ask Mila Kunis. A bit of a double standard has developed. And while I'm glad that I'm on my side of the gender divide - I feel bad for my sisters on the other side.

So that's just one example, but standards in guys have been dropping for years. As I do with the decline of modern music - I pin the blame squarely on the grubby little shoulders of the Arctic Monkeys. I will now type some more words. Just after the millennium The Strokes looked upon the world through artfully tussled bangs and said, 'Hello, world. We are the epitome of cool and we would like to show you how to be a better you'. I was at college at the time and within the next month every guy had wandered out and upgraded himself with skinny jeans, vintage jackets, and some very bon marché scarfs. The benchmark had been set and the world answered with one voice, 'Ok, The Strokes. Thank you for your guidance. We will do better'. Everything looked amaze. Then this happened:

'HE'S JUST NORMAL
LIKE WHAT WE ARE!!!1'

The Arctic Monkeys were just a bunch of kids and they made the dream of being a successful band more accessible to the masses. Just like Chatroulette made the dream of seeing like 500 dicks per hour accessible to the masses. If you want it - just go and make it happen. In some ways it's great and in other ways not so much. If everyone can be in a successful band it becomes less desirable. I don't want to feel like I could bump into a famous musician in the supermarket. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I bumped into Brian Monkey, or whatever the kid from the Arctic Monkeys is called, walking around Morrisons. I want an air of superiority and pomme de terre to surround my famous musicians, like dry ice and pubescent boys tears do at a Limp Bizkit gig (they're still cool, right? I'm very down with the kids).

Looks cool to me. And edgy. Moving on.

So that's why I think the New Diet Coke man is muggly shrew compared to the original Diet Coke man. We, as men, just enjoy far lower expectations then we had back then. You don't have to aspire so high.

But why are the women in the advert suddenly smoking hawt and a sutty? Let us find out.

I just watched both videos a minute ago on YouTube ('probably should've done that before I started writing but I pride myself on being poorly informed and lacking in factual content. Like those SWAG pictures that keep popping up on the internets).

I swear to God this is a real thing. If you could weaponise
this level of stupid you could destroy nations.

WHAT I LERNED FROM THE DIET COKE ADVERTS

Original Diet Coke Advert

• The whole idea behind the original advertising campaign was taking a 'Diet Coke Break'. I forgot about this entirely and for that I'm sorry. It's also not shot in black and white so I got that wrong too. Please forgive me.
• 60% of the women in the video wear glasses (because glasses = intelligent = office).
• I'm not gay, but handsome Diet Coke man is handsome.

New Diet Coke Advert

• The new advert makes no sense. So the women go to the lift to break the lift and then New Diet Coke man comes through a hatch in the top of the lift to repair the lift but he was there like immediately so what New Diet Coke man just spends all his time at work sitting on top of the lift in some tiny metal office probably built into the lift or something on standby in case it breaks? Oh my God I just went full retard.
• 100% of the women in the video are cumdumpsters (every other shot they're licking their lips = that's where the penis goes during a blowjob = sexy?) 
• The guy just looks like a normal dude. 

Admittedly, this gritty reboot of the Diet Coke advert is now about 5 years old, so if they remade it again today the male lead will probably look like a stinky neckbeard. I'd bet he'd be fucking sweet at Call of Duty though. But why in the new advert are the women moar pretty and moar trampy then in the original? Do bitches be trippin'? (You put an apostrophe at the end of it to be like a rap man. Fred Durst lerned me that).

The women in the new advert are this way because that's the direction women have evolved in media. I saw the major motion picture Friends With Benefits last week and it pretty much sums up the message of every romantic film and sitcom of the last 10 years - 'Be an intelligent, driven woman but always be on the lookout for the amazing power of a big dick'.

Again, don't get me wrong here. I'm not trying to champion women's rights or any of that noise, but I (as a man) realise that you (as a woman) have got a pretty crappy deal. Be smarter, be sexier, be prettier. Whereas men just need to be a bit funny, a bit cute, a bit LaBeouf.

Ladies.

At least we can all agree that Diet Coke is made of win and Coke Zero is watered-down, fizzy tar. So where do we go from here? Honestly I don't know. I watched that film Suckerpunch and it was made of win. It was also the only film that I can think of in the last few years where the female leads were not in thrall to some dude. Let us examine some more recent, popular films and try and find a woman who's not portrayed as a complete spare part:

Salt: Angelina Jolie started the film being rescued by her husband and then spends the bulk of the rest of the film trying to be reunited with him. Then she seems to forget all about that and saves the world or something. I don't think I understood that film.

The Proposal: Sandra Bullock is a successful serious business woman until she gets in trouble and only the amazing power of a strong, white man (and his penis) can save her. So she's independent for like the first 15 minutes of the film before she needs the amazing power of a strong, white man (and his penis)? Well at least she lasted that long.

Sex in the City: Pretty much everything these 4 do and say is about dick. Meeting a dick, touching a dick, keeping a dick. /thread.

Black Swan: Well ok, I don't think that this was about a womans never ending adventure to find love with a man, but it was probably shoehorned in there somewhere. Didn't she date her teacher or something? It was certainly intense. I couldn't sleep without the light being left on for about a week after watching it. So intense.



So yeah, that Suckerpunch film and that's pretty much all I can think of as a recent film where women are capable without the direct supervision of a man (and his penis). And even then, some old boy drove them around and organised all of their situations. And they were dressed like nazi schoolgirls or something for the whole film. After all, going into war not wearing a mini-skirt and heels would be utter madness.

All I know is that at present guys have got it sweet as hell.

You just have to care about looking like you don't care. Some woman came past my stand a couple of days ago and said, "OMG this is so Shabby-Chic!" I was like, 'WTF are you saying about my wooden dreams, bitch?' Just as I was about to cut her she told me that apparently Shabby-Chic is a good thing. How can a thing be both shabby and chic?

Oh. Right.

But then guys can (mostly) just dress up however we want (no baggy jeans, nothing neon ffs). It's a luxury we enjoy along with waking up in the morning with an erection and standing in front of the mirror, basking in the reflection of our totem pole (penis). Gok Wan doesn't pander to men with his shows because he knows we'd tell him to STFU. We don't need it.

I could wade into the whole inequality with 'women in magazines', 'women in music', and 'women in adverts' minefield - but tbh it's getting late and I needs to gets my snooze on.

So that's what happened to the Diet Coke man. The world moved on and traits such as looking like a boss and being clean shaven became undesirable in men. It seems like lols are more important. This is good because I like lols and it's one of the most important things I look for in a woman. (Obviously, the most important things are a pretty face and whether or not she likes my cat). Fast-forward another 10 years and who knows what the desirable traits will be?

It will probably look like a complete clusterfuck and we will only have ourselves, Gok Wan, and high-waisted belts to blame.

Goodnight, gentle reader. I love you.

LIFE: THINGS WHAT I LERNED IN MY 20'S

Hullo, my name is Adam and today I'd like to talk to you about getting older. Those of you who know me know that I'm wise like an owl. Those of you who don't know me, you may have read somewhere very recently that I'm wise like an owl. Let me also reveal this startling truth to you - I will be 30 this year. You wouldn't know it to talk to me because tbh I'm a bit retarded and you wouldn't know it to look at me because I somehow look pretty healthy, even though I spent my early 20's living in total squalor.

This was the fruit bowl at our first flat.

But there it is. My 20's are coming to an end, like the worlds interest is coming to an end over whether or not Wham! will ever reform. I hope they do.

Sorry to shoehorn in another picture in so quick, but I'll 
award 100 internets to anyone know knows 
the other guys name without Googling it. Amazing hair.

I sulked for like a whole week when I went 19 / 20. But then when I went 24 / 25 I don't think I cared that much. However, 29 / 30 is a big turning point for any human. I think, for lack of a better word, it makes you an adult. How does this make me feel? Pretty casual.

'For why, Adam?' I hear you ask. Well, you know the drill by now, friend - use your eyes for the reading and I will explain using words:


1) HEALTH SITUATIONS

I'm in better shape now then I was in my early 20's. That's not denial, like when Nicolas Cage tries to make an action film - it's an actuality. The main difference between when I was a kid and now is that I actually exercise these days. I've been quite disciplined about it for the last 2 years. Usually, I'll do cardio every other day and resistance training 3 times a week. 'Why do you do this, Adam? Are you a gaylord?' That's a fair question, gentle reader. Allow me to explain myself.

When I was in my early 20's a balanced diet consisted of my mixing up my Birds Eye Chicken Dipper days and my Bernard Mathews Turkey Dinosaur days. My 5 fruit and veg a day consisted of a handful of grapes or an apple once a week - maybe a tin of Fruit Salad too. I don't know, I'm not a nutritionist. My exercise included herculean feats of endurance such as walking to the shop, staying up late masturbating, and walking to my friends house to play PS1.

I was pretty good at this too.

This was all fine and dandy back in the day, as I've always been tall and quite skinny. However in my mid 20's, like when Niles and Daphne got married in Frasier, things were starting to grind to a halt. In my late 20's I figured out that if I still wanted to look pretty I had to do 2 things, neither of which I wanted to do. Not at all.

• EAT BETTER - I've really only got to grips with this in the last year or so, when my ex taught me that a home cooked meal was not my putting a lasagne in the oven. Even if I seasoned it with salt and pepper all by myself. I now cook most of my meals from scratch. Whereas before a home-made meal would consist of a locally sourced pizza from Tesco Local and maybe some ketchup for colour. I'm also lots more open-minded with my food. For example, when I was younger my mum asked me if I'd like some 'brunch' and I replied, "I don't like it" - thinking it was a food type. Oh, what am I like?

I think I'm a bit like this. If you agree,
award yourself +1 internets.

• EXERCISE - Oh noes, this was an uphill struggle. The depths of my disdain for sports ran so deep that when I was a kid I forged a letter to my PE Teacher. It went something like this:

      
              Dear Mr Fitzpatrick (The Teacher),

              Please be informed that Adam (The Son) will not go to no more PE lessons.
              He has a bad knee. Thanks.

             Yours sincerely.
             Judi and Alan Foster (The Parents)

The teacher must've looked at it and thought, 'What is this I don't even?' But tbh I think he was just pleased to get me out of the classes. I was a bit of a malcontent. I used to go home and play Sega Saturn and try to download nutritious noods on the family's dial-up internet connection. Trying to find porn back then was like trying to find a size of clothing other than L or XL in Primark. Dark days, let me tell you. I made no gains during this period of my life.

I am so close. Just work with me, BT.

2) MATURITY SITUATIONS

Most of this section will do me no credit, so if you're an ex-girlfriend reading this and you want to preserve that image you have of me as a strong mate and a generous lover, you might want to skip ahead. For the rest of you - here we go. I am immature. Well, in some ways I am. In terms of growing up I've crammed all sorts in. Mortgage? Been there done that. No thanks. Business? I'm my own boss. Amazing win is amazing. But it's my day to day life, which makes me utterly fail at maturity.

I like to amuse myself. Do this end, I'll do things which are just plain silly. Not to impress my peers, not to be popular, but just for my own amusement and all in the name of the lols. Bear witness to my confession:

Scene: Some Aquarium I Used to Work At
Age: 28
Situation: We had a lot of foreign students come into the aquarium and it pissed me off. They were loud and stupid and smelly. They'd trash the place and bully my amazing animals. So I orchestrated a vigilante crusade, similar in effectiveness and magnitude to Rambo in that action film I can't remember the name of. We had a jungle section. It was claustrophobic and dark, with only 1 way in and 1 way out. I played a lot of Call of Duty back then so I knew that this would be an excellent place for an ambush. I used to wait above the tree canopy, poised to strike for great justice with this water gun, which was used to control the humidity in the Dart Frog cage. When the kids would come in - I'd execute them. Men, women, boys, girls, children - I was all out of fucks to give. Everything was permitted. They'd scream and think that it was part of the experience. I would calmly reload, dead-eyed and steadfast. I was a manager there. Why did I do this? For the lols.

Scene: Bus Stop
Age: 29
Situation: I don't use public transport very often. Not because I'm an elitist but just because I think it's crap. If I wanted to pay loads of money to not get very far, I'd be a White Knight. Back in the day (in fact this was only a couple of months ago), I decided it was time to take action. I wasn't in a bad mood. I hadn't recently had a bad experience with a bus. I wasn't even waiting for a bus. I just wanted to take action. So a bus pulls up as I'm crossing the road and the drivers window was wound down. There were 2 other buses behind it. It had stopped for a red light, but the light was changing and it started to rumble forward. I leaned in to the drivers window and called the driver that nasty word that rhymes with 'runt' and is spelt 'cunt'. He slammed on the brakes - but I'd timed it just right. He couldn't stop because of the buses behind him so he had to move on. He was very >:( angryface. I was B-) shades cool. Why did I do this? For the lols.

Scene: deviantART
Age: 29
Situation: deviantART is a website where everyone can upload their art. I created an account (calling myself Dalipep) to cause mayhem. So anyways, this guy posts a photo of 3 dogs posing for a photo. tl;dr, I accused the guy of using gaffer tape to secure the dogs. This thread went of for pages and pages. He are some of the highlights.

So that pretty much sums that up.


3) POTENTIAL SITUATIONS

I always thought when I grew up I'd have a thick weave of chest hair, like Sean Conery in that Bond film ('dunno which one. Probably the one where he's on the beach with the woman in the white bikini. Let's say it's Octopussy that I'm thinking of because the title's made of win and I want to type it). But far from that, in my late 20's I actually just have a little tuft of chest hair. Like a Totoro.

Not the big one either.

If someone put a gun to my head I couldn't grow a beard to save my life. But other than that I turned out real good. Strong and lean and I have pubic hair too. So much win. When you're a kid you imagine how you'll turn out when you're a grown up. Now I never really agonised over this. I don't really make long term plans or goals. I just roam from situation to situation - trying to find my way in this crazy mixed up world. I don't think I had a preconception of the kind of person I'd be towards 30.

I had a career as a Zookeeper for 5 years, but it fucking sucked. (My job title was 'Senior Aquarist' but no one knows what the bloody hell that means, so we'll just say 'Zookeeper'). It was good for the lols but the money was so bad I think I earned more when I worked at a call centre. 'But Adam, you obviously took your job very seriously,' I hear what you're saying and you'd be correct. 'You defended your animals from the disgusting foreign invaders.' I know, right? But these were Covert Op's, which the management never even knew about. It's like when Jack Bauer does all that cool stuff in 24. Does anyone thank him? No, they just give him shit for it.

"If you need me, I'll be asleep in the stock room."

But now I'm self employed and it's awesome. I saw one of my managers out and about last week and she asked how my new direction was treating me. I replied, "It's great! If I don't want to go in to work I just stay at home. I don't have to phone in sick or anything!" If looks could kill that woman would've turned me inside out and worn me as a fleece. (She like fleeces. Frumpy ones are her favourite). As long as I'm happy and whatnot I don't care overly much. I don't really crave material things - I'm not trying to sound like I've just come back from backpacking across Asia and found myself, man - but there it is. I don't drive, so I don't want a fancy car. I'm sure as hell not getting involved with another mortgage again anytime soon. So yeah, I think I reached my potential. /thread.

4) FAMILY SITUATIONS

This is a tricky one. My 2 oldest friends from back in the day both have kids now. 1's married too. Do I envy them? No, not really - it's just not my bag atm. I think mid-30's for that stuff. But it does make me wonder. I will now use words to explain. Thank you for reading. I like you and I think you're cool. Always remember that.

I was in this relationship for just under 5 years. We had a mortgage and whatnot together. I wanted to buy a kitten but she wouldn't let me, so now that we're not together, I brought a kitten. It's like a Disney film.

This proves that the man is always right
about everything in a relationship.

Eventually, we grew apart - like 2 and a Half Men and its audience did after legendary IRL troll Charlie Sheen left the show. But had we carried on we probably would've been engaged and probably would've had a kid by now. Now in our case, the problems that we had would've still been there and we probably would've still grown apart. (Sorry for all the 'probably' back there. I'm not a scientist and I cannot predict these things). As utter ballache as disentangling ourselves from the mortgage was, I think dissolving a marriage and selling the kid would've been ballache-apocalypse. 

You sell the kid, right?

So all that rhetoric that everyone came out with when we broke up, like the ol' 'everything happens for a reason' and 'what will be will be', was actually pretty spot on. Had we not called it a day I wouldn't have met my previous girlfriend (probably the best women I've ever known), I wouldn't have all the wonderful new friends I have now, I wouldn't be living with my excellent flatmate - and Doc would never have made it back to the future. Or the past. I forget what they were trying to achieve in Back to the Future 3.

So family and relationship-wise I'm doing just peachy. I'm exactly where I want to be.

5) FUTURE SITUATIONS

Who knows these things? I guess my next milestone will come at 40. Well, that's if the world doesn't end in 2012, in which case I would've only been 30 for about a week before it happens and this whole post will seem pretty redundant. 

Again, I don't really have a plan. I just let Lady Luck lead me from A to B and hope for the best. Another 10 years is a long time. I don't even know what I'll be doing this time next year - and I like it that way. If someone had told me a year ago I'd have lived in Canada for 3 months, I would've been like, 'Well I don't even know anyone in Canada, so stop hassling me, man. Don't make me get my water gun out of retirement 'cos I'll soak you so good you wont know where the water ends and your tears begin'.

I need to quit smoking properly too. I like it, but it makes my lungs die :( sadface. 

I think I'm going to potter on with my writing too. There are still humans out there who do not know how to internet correctly. There are other humans who need to know the truth about feelings and lols. Who knows - one day I may be able write faggy love advice for MSN. I must help them all. No one gets left behind.

YOU CANNOT DOWNLOAD A GOOGLE!
LERN 2 INTERNET, GRANDAD!

I do actually have a plan forming. I will now tell you my plan. Early next year, I won't be able to give away stuff on my stand, it'll be so quiet. So I'm going to take the money I made from selling my stupid flat and then blitz work up until Christmas and save, save, save. And then I'm going to go off travelling for a bit. Probably the usual - Asia and Thailand and all that. I need to look the Dali Lama in the eye and see if he truly does know what the situation is.

I don't think the future matters. Just keep active and healthy and keep your lol to antilol ratio correct.

CONCLUSION

I have about 5 months and change left of my 20's. I've packed a lot of great stuff in and I'd have it no other way. I pretty much wouldn't change a thing.

I love my life in sunny Brighton. I love my business. I love my friends and family. 10 more years of that will be a blessing. But I don't know if I'm ready to /thread and settle down yet. I just feel there's so much more out there. I mean, I'm not sure there is, maybe it's all crap - but I want to have a look for myself.

My flatmate and I were talking about travelling earlier today. He thinks the experience will change him. Tbh, I'm not planning to change. I like me. But I think the experience will make me more rounded.

So if you're loitering around in your early or mid 20's wondering what the future will bring, take it from me - on a long enough timeline it does work itself out. Don't agonise about it. Don't worry. If your heart is pure and you tell no lies you should be rewarded with great things.

See. I told you I'm wise like an owl.