Let’s Get Together: A Mixtape for 2011

It’s 2012 now and so I’m being told I should do some kind of best of list to round out the year. But this blog didn’t exist last year and I don’t really care about doing what I’m told so there are two problems right away.

But I definitely am interested in writing something about last year, because that’s pretty much easy content for me to come up with and prevents me from having to some how figure out 3,000 words that I can write about Power Rangers and why if they were so intent on secrecy they dressed only in the colours of the Rangers they morphed into, and, you know, teleported en masse from the middle of the school corridor.

The best films I saw last year were WARRIOR, DRIVE and THE TREE OF LIFE. So watch those, I suppose. Or don’t; whatever. Here’s some music I really dug last year though:


Family should always come first. I did an interview recently and they asked me what the most important things I look for in a girl were. I said loyalty, strong family values and an intense hatred of Ashton Kutcher movies. And I mean that. With the new year you should all aspire to appreciate your family more. Or hate Ashton Kutcher more. The two really are interchangeable for me.


The percentage of people right now doing exactly what they wanted to be doing when they were a kid must be infinitesimal. I’m pretty happy with my life at the moment but when I was a kid I wanted to be Tyrannosaurus Rex and if that six year old could see me now sold out and working for the man he would be disgusted. Although the twenty six year old version of myself now looking back thinks what the hell was I thinking I was going to achieve with those tiny arms. Of all the dinosaurs…

I didn’t even get close to my secondary ambition of being a space pirate. Although I feel technology really let me down on that one. It’s 2012. I swear we were supposed to have laser guns and shit by now.


Did you guys all do something great last year? I did pretty much nothing of any note. I’ll try and do something this year. I doubt I will do anything though, as I am a hater and saying I’m a little lazy is like saying Wesley Snipes is a little black.


I hate ADHD. Not the clinical affliction but the way that by coming up with this term, a forthcoming generation of  kids have an excuse to be stupid and fail at school. Relating to the above point I should have made; don’t blame stuff on ADHD. If you don’t manage to achieve what you had intended to, don’t blame it on ADHD; blame it on being lazy or a shit person.

By the way, this song was the best on what was without a shadow of a doubt the best album of last year and the best Hip Hop release I can even remember.


Kids don’t impress me at all. They are inconsiderate and get the maximum amount of credit for the minimum amount of achievement. That’s not what this song is about though. I don’t know how it works for girls exactly, all I keep hearing about is a biological clock that is ticking. But for guys it’s a cyclical nightmare. You meet one girl who lights up the room and then in the space of the next couple of weeks you’ll meet like five more. You’ll fuck it up with all of them because juggling that kind of a situation is a god damn logistical disaster waiting to happen. After that you have no girls and there won’t be any for another three to four months, wherein five come along at once again.

That said I do need to start sorting my shit out because I want to have kids. How many? I have a simple equation. I’m terrible at math, but it goes something like this: if E is the number of kids I will have, then E = the number of babies my wife shoots out before I get a boy + 1.


On my birthday I got decimated on Whiskey and enthusiasm and when I disappeared into an alley in Bangsar to puke up the equivalent of a small alcoholic child some of my friends came with to make sure I was ok. I threw up all over the wall and asked one of them for a tissue. He said he didn’t have one. I said hey asshole, I need a tissue and its my birthday. He reiterated that he had no tissue. However I would not listen. So he looked around and found one. On the ground. In a puddle. In an alley. He gave it to me with his friend power and I gratefully wiped it all over my face like R.Kelly with a six year old’s panties. Appreciate your friends!


Here’s a list of the places that I fell asleep this year: my bed, my brother’s bed, my friend louis’ bed, ok beds in general, planes, my car, my dad’s car, my friend jacob’s car, ok cars in general, a metal bench outside a bar in the mother fucking English winter, the ground outside my grandmother’s house, Rootz, the living room floor, a yacht, a hotel lobby couch, a hotel room floor, a train, a tram, multiple cinemas, an alley behind Sri Hartamas.


I always used to feel like my social circle and support group of friends was as strong as its weakest link. That always seemed like a pretty sound way of looking at things. I’ve jettisoned my fair few in the interest of galvanizing things and eliminating the chance that one of my retard friends does something (typically and) monumentally stupid and causes the runoff to fall off and hit me. Or give me new and exciting stressful situations to deal with.

That said though, this year I came to the conclusion that you need some idiot friends in your life. Dumb people do dumb things almost on instinct and these dumb things result in awesome stories. One of my friends broke his wrist on St. Paddy’s day when he thought it would be a good idea after drinking all night to start dancing on a chair. Another puked on – yes, literally, puked on – a girl in a club. Now see I wouldn’t have those stories to tell you, or entertain girls I’m hitting on with, if I didn’t have those mongo friends in my social circle. In fact I’ve actually found that if you have enough stupid stories to tell, you can actually trick a girl into thinking you’re interesting, just by virtue of having a library of those acts of idiocy on hand.


Trying to think where I went last year. I was in Pangkor Laut, Bali, Thailand, Singapore a couple of times, Australia for a weekend, and then England over Christmas. One of the times I was coming back from Singapore I got stopped and detained at the border because the immigration officer did not believe that the passport I was carrying was mine. He accused the picture of having different ears and a different nose. And his way of getting to the bottom of things was to hold my ten year old passport and challenge me to name every single place that I was listed to have been to in it. When I went to Pangkor Laut I got sick on a boat and spent the weekend throwing up three times my body’s capacity. But I intend to travel more this year.

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