Tag Archives: self-indulgence

>Unnecissary pants parts

>So last week I bought myself some new underpants. And I have to ask: Is there any feeling the world quite as nice as putting on a new pair of underpants?

More to the point, the pants I bought were red and white boy-style shorts from American Apparel and they are deliciously comfortable. However, I don’t find the penis flap on the front of them entirely necessary.

In fact, I don’t think for me it is necessary at all. Yah. I don’t need that.

>NERD ALERT!: Only I would be happy about this

>I just made myself soooo happy that when this wee trick finally worked I actually got up and danced around. No joke.

I have my own domain name! Hooray!! I’m officially (and then some) on the Interwebs. HOORAY!

So, what does that mean in words that my moms will understand (she’s pretty Interwebs-savvy, but even she might not even get this one)?

I have my own Interwebs address.

That’s right. My own. I owned this here part of the the Interwebs and I intend to keep it, yo.

So from now on, if you want to find my blog (or you want to tell many, many others how to find my delicious and good-for-you blog) you just have to remember this:


And that is all kinds of awesome, friends and neighbours. All freaking kinds. Woot!

>Yadda yadda yadda, me me me


“Talking much about oneself
can also be a means to conceal oneself.”

– Friedrich Nietzsche

Sometimes I wonder about this blogging thing. Not blogging in general – I’m sure the 19 blog posts created every second on the interwebs are all very worthwhile and highly interesting… but I wonder about the point of me keeping a blog. I don’t ever kid myself that my posts are worthwhile or at all interesting – Turbotastical Tales should come with a disclaimer warning those who have hearkened upon it accidentally that spending even a moment reading any of what’s here could cause permanent brain damage. There’s no un-reading what you’ve read here, people.

Anyway, back to me. I didn’t think I was the kind of person who was into disclosing too much about myself. And then I read that quote from Nietzsche (confession: I’m also hopeful that quoting the ole Nietzscherooni will add some class and smartness to my otherwise base and retarded writing) and it dawned on me what keeping a blog is really all about for me: it isn’t that I want to give up too much info about myself, it is simply that I like to hear the sound of my own voice (even when it is written) and that my voice is particularly melodious when I wax lyrical about my favourite subject: moi.

Seriously, for someone who hates it when people think they know any-freaking-thing about me (I don’t even go into the same shops twice in a row, lest they think they have a habit or two of mine figured out) I sure do talk about myself a lot. That must get aggravating for the people around me. It is just that my “best” stories usually involve me. Probably because I’m the most interesting person I know. Ha!

Whenever I read my old posts though, I notice that even though it is either all about me, or at the very least my opinion on things that aren’t me… overall I don’t think I’m giving all that much away. It may look that way at times; however, by being the writer and editor of my life events I have control over the portrait I’m painting of myself. For everything I let slip, there are 10 things I’m not giving away.

So anyway, thanks for sorting me out Friedrich, you uptight bastard. I didn’t like the one book of yours that I read, but you do say some pretty smart shite every once in a while. So, cheers for that Friedy. You’s alright. Thanks for classing up my blog a bit today. Sort of.

Original Comments:

Carey wrote (on 21/12/08):
I just realized you have been gone for over three years. Not because I didn’t notice you were gone, but because I get to read about you when ever I want so it feels like I “see” you every day. To be honest, I like the banal, random stories you write, because it would be like a conversation we would have in person. I don’t need you to disclose any more about yourself… I have enough dirt already…

Miss you

>But being hard on myself is what I do best!

>Someone at the pub on Friday night brought it to my attention that I run myself down a lot. Which I do. And I know I do. I’m good at it. In fact, I’m better at that than I am at anything else, really.

Since someone else thought it worth mentioning it to me, I’ve been thinking about it over the weekend. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it is no big deal, as I know exactly why I do it.

First, if I’m making fun of me, chances are no one else is. And if I’m doing it, I control what is being made fun of. I never go after my *real* flaws, I go after the ones that I can handle being mocked. There’s control in being the one to make jokes about oneself. And if other people make fun of me too… again, at least I’ve started it and can usually control what is being mocked. This way I distract people from my real flaws… and trust me – there are a lot of the freaking things.

Secondly, if I didn’t make fun of myself, chances are I would make fun of other people. Now granted: I already make fun of other people. But I would probably do it more often and to a much more hurtful extent if I wasn’t constantly making fun of myself. Nature has given me a safety-valve, and I think everyone should be thankful for that. I know I’m thankful for it: if I was as mean to other people as I was to myself, I wouldn’t have any friends.

Lastly, I deserve it. I mean, being 99.5% pure turbotastic awesomeness could go to my head if I didn’t bring myself down every once in a while. Could you imagine if I didn’t run myself down all the time? Then I would have a caustic personality AND be thoroughly (instead of just “mostly”) highly conceited. Ew! There would go the few friends I would have left after I made fun of everyone else.

I’m just happy that this particular person doesn’t read my blog. If he thinks I’m hard on myself in real life (as it were), he should see me at the keyboard. That’s where I shine at kicking my own ass.

>Ah, Working


What can one do at work when one doesn’t feel like working? Right – goof off on the internet. Excellent. I’m not suggesting you do this if you really, really like your job, or if you don’t want to get caught screwing around when you should be working. I should be working. I am not. Because I don’t want to and this morning is about me, dangnabit.
Original Comments:
jeanine wrote (on 24/05/05):
i’m emailing this to your boss!!!!!
Karie wrote (on 29/05/05):
Hey, get back to work.