Ned and Law Enforcement, Ned is on the right, note the beard (they cannot be trusted), Neds may attempt to take on the guise of Law Enforcement personel to entrap you easily...
After the glorious publication of the Guide that would have benefited all that obey the kind laws of Moscow Centre. [Great reader this is now in the sort of tone that Moscow Centre would approve of - i.e. stylised Soviet speak...] Comrade Ned has ignored the loving embrace of advice from Comrade Stalin, indeed Comrades he has disregarded the laws of truth and kindness to such a degree that he is truly damned.
In short
Ned didn't listen.
I mean for ONE girl to say 'Dude I don't want sexy times with you, I'd rather be intimate with Barnsey, or indeed a passionate relationship with a Satanic Mormon, who only washes on Tuesdays and can only eat beans."
Whilst this is pretty clear, to assist this is a look at Peep Show. Mark (left) demonstrates dangerously Nedish traits, whilst Jeremy (right) demonstrates the other side of Nedish traits - they are dangerously common
However to go to a friend, and then ask her (basically) the same thing leads me to say this to the Neds of this world.
Now as I write this I am well aware that the real Ned will be sitting down listening to the following...
Trying to reconcile his shattered existence against the barometer of awesomeness which is this blog.
As the tempo starts rising in the song, and he starts singing along - imagining he was some Russian faux-Lesbian from when the song was released - his fantasy will culminate in a shocking realisation.
ANYWAY
By now Ned should realise he sucks and start dealing with this in a constructive manner and in the only piece of advice here, girls do not like losers.
How can you not find these Winners attractive?
Anyway to sum up this wonderful post, dear enlightened reader, I want you all to know this:
[Also great marker - this is all from one foolish Nacireman's brilliant self-cock block - so it is certainly a cultural experience. And one which beats the crap out of feeding orphaned kids in Africa. Hells Yeah, you know it, embrace it...]
Ok... this is an unexpected post to come so soon. Those who read this, pass on this amazing and thought provoking advice.
Now, I am well known for my unexpected and random conversations, infact my own grandmother sums it up rather well,
'No one can have as entertaining and unique conversations as you, infact I can have these conversations with no one else...'
So, without further adoo - I present the Whiskey Swiping Guide to Talking to Women
The basis of this Guide came from a fellow - who shall be known henceforth as 'Ned'. Ned is a... errr.... well being kind I won't suggest he is an All American [Insert Popular Indie Band Here] fan.
Ned is a nice guy. He's a really nice guy.
Infact Ned is SO nice that he probably would say this to you.
How profound? Sweet? Endearing or does it lean towards slightly sociopathic tendencies. Now guys. When ever your mouth comes dangerously close to saying a Ned-ism, ask yourself 'Is this a Nedism', 'Will this make me look like a massive plonker to the girl I am trying to impress?' Lets be honest, the above quote is a massive pussyfooting claymore of a line to say. Its plain creepy and ridiculously emo. However... if spoken by Clark Gable...
Now to illustrate... the following are classic lines.
Casablanca
Gone with the Wind
Words can have outstanding passion, meaning, wit and substance when said with the correct delivery, body language and emotion.
The Neds of this world are unable to say 'Frankly my dear I don’t give a damn,' or even:
Normal Guy: "When that plane leaves the ground you’ll regret it, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life"
Girl: "What about us?" Normal Guy: "We’ll always have Paris."
The Neds of this world will struggle to say those, now cliched, lines in any sensible way - indeed they may find the art of verbal communication, evolved over thousands of years and one of the most remarkable skills of all - well pretty much impossible to do.
I guess sitting for years in their bedroom with Jimmy Hendrix posters on the wall, listening to Pearl Jam, and drinking to J-Kwon - well its hammered their braincells a bit. They most likely will enjoy the most intimate relationship of their life with a small glass of Carling, (as they are too scared to move onto more challenging ales or spirits.)
Like the iPhone, Carling has a love it or loathe it quality - often associated with its drinkers
So here we have poor Ned, our Carling drinking, socially awkward, generic music listening, happy fellow. And he likes a girl, but talking to her directly makes his nerwous.
Why nerwous? Well as Nervous implies he can maintain his speech around said girls...
Anyway what have the Neds reading this learned thus far?
Ned loses his head over pretty girls
To Neds around the world, common sense dies a tragic and fast death. Imagine being hit by a high speed train, whilst smoking a joint, as the footage of this is beemed to your mother. She has just discovered that you secretly have a fetish for raw tomatoes and coleslaw and you have not completed your degree, infact your course was a mere sham of existence to worry her and forward her dementia.
The Death of Ned's Common Sense should be a source of Immense Shame
Anyway, when Ned talks to girls he now speaks to them a bit in person, a lot over social networking sites such as facebook, and to their friends. Ned's of this world, I repeat my impassioned plea to 'Stop Sucking. Start Being Awesome' such foolish communication will end nout but disaster.
Or put more simply if you like her, tell her. She may say no, however...
A girl says no, a normal guy has several options, the three easiest being:
Accept the:
Or - accept rejection and be The Boss:
Ned will not do this, even when made clear through all channels he will seek to make one of the most ultimate social faux pas. Indeed this is SO great that even I did not consider this a valid option!
Yes, you tell her that she is a Special Friend.
Now esteemed (and most likely confused person responsible for deciding if these tirades are worthy of the greatest prizes in the competition), and loyal, beloved, noble reader - well you may recall the famous explanation of how babies are made from the Ladybird books 'The daddy gives the mummy a special hug'?
Knowing Ned, this is where he sees his chance for a bit of:
The girl agrees to be friends, and he decides to push it a BIT further, in Ned's mind that is. Not realising that a 'bit' in general terms here, after having clear lack of interest stated is...
"Can we be special friends who enjoy having fun?"
Now... some girls will laugh that off but most will find that about as asking them...
Well so offensive that it would be a culimation of all the don'ts on this post, and all the videos, so offensive I'll take my own advice and call it a night...
Needless to say the real 'Ned', lack of tact + idiocy = LEGENDARY SPESHUL FELLOW.
Remember how this blog was designed to be the ultimate capitalist enterprise? The bedrock of this enterprise was to be frequent blog posts aided by photographs/videos.
I have been defeated by my old laptop not accepting memory cards, and leaving the cable that goes from my laptop to camera… back at home.
Joy.
To add to my woes my camera is pretty pants (to be honest) at any decent photos when compared to Barnsey’s offerings.
Anyway, a lot has happened in the past two weeks, and I've decided to write mini posts over the next few days to catch up. These will be (for now at least) sans photos by myself.
So I shall rely on witty writing style and inevitable glorious success to win this.
And hopefully not the power of the Segway.
Basically time is starting to creep up on me making this successful, so its best I lay out a rough list of topics to be covered:
The Dangers of North American Travel Mustangs The Evolution of the Modern Museum Wearing Badges 88s The American Portion The Unexpected Minority Bootlegging EXCITING Adverts!!!! (or the Foolishness of Advertising)
These are... roughly... the topics being covered...
So what was the point of this post?
To show you, oh Great Marker - that the 6Ps are still in use and that this represents a competent well developed awesome way to write a blog.
So there we were. 35 stories up alarms going, and Lewis says “Come on boys this is the big one.”
My eyes race to the lift door, its only a matter of time before the place is swarming with boots, Chris’ lips curl into a cool smile, and we make our move.
That is amazingly not much of an exaggeration of something that will not be TERRIBLY be embellished in this post. And previous events will be referred to in future posts… so we’ll finish off the whole TGIF story and other such nonsense in due course.
The Chase Tower. The highlight of Oklahoma City. The main base of the Chase Bank, a 35 story facility boasting a substantial internal security force, four points of entry on the ground floor.
The three man team consisted of: Myself – Surveillance/Tactical Operative Lewis – Intelligence and Covert Ops Chris – Comms and Insertion
Objective was simple, commit a recce of the top of the Chase Building in Oklahoma, assess the position and acquire photographic intelligence on the disposition and layout of the… [insert poorly constructed plot device here.]
We formed up outside the building and moved in, concealed as England supporters. Initial access was gained through the deli near Entrance 2, and we made our way towards the first set of lifts. We entered, checked for cameras and ascended to level 14.
We moved out cautiously, making our way towards the second set of lifts going straight to floor 35. Chris moved first making sure there were no hostiles opposing us. I followed in the rear protecting the Recording Device, whilst in the middle Lewis muttered constant assessments of the situation. It looked good. Seemed we had a three minute window.
Entering the next set of lifts we rose to floor 35, we stepped out to find that the entire area was different from intelligence. A gentleman’s lounge seemed to dominate the floor. Lewis grabbed me showing me a file similar to this video:
The team before us had been ambushed here… well in a similar manner to this. They had been well armed, trained and motivated.
Two unsuspecting men stepped into the lift and began to descend.
Damn.
Realising time was of the essence, seconds later an alarm began to ring, we looked at each other, “Lets go!” Lewis said, grabbing Chris and me forward. Chris had devised the entrance and exit strategy – we had to do something…
As Chris raced forward after Lewis I moved quickly, assembling the Recording Device. Just as I did this I hit the lift button, hoping that we wouldn’t have to Base jump to safety.
For those not familiar with Base Jumping – its not for the faint hearted:
We recorded what we needed and decided to split, we dived into the lift and started descending. Knowing full well that most likely some large unappealing chaps were readying a move to apprehend us. The lift descended rapidly, allowing us to pack our gear up and prepare to fight through any opposition.
We got out of Lift 2 to no opposition and rapidly made our way towards Lift 1. Chris glanced back and told us “We’ve got thirteen seconds before they find out the ruse…”
We hit the button and prepared to do whatever was necessary to get out of there. The lift arrived. Raced to the bottom and we walked calmly onto the street and onto a bus.
Ok... when I was sitting on a plane at around 1am UK time yesterday I thought I had this blog post worked out... I really did but as I sat there one thing started to bug me. It was the Thank God Its Friday 'Take Away' inside Dallas F-err-long-something-which-why-can't-they-just-call-it-Dallas... airport.
However... it started a fateful couple of days with the following snippet of conversation: Me:So are you saying you used me in illegal drug trials? Mother:Yes dear, but it was for your own good.
I should have known that from that minute, that the tone for the next few days was clearly set...
So It Started Off Like
As I went through Dallas Airport, I realised that my carefully chosen Armani Jacket, Boss Jeans, Ralph Lauren t-shirt... well I was out of kilter. I looked like a Roman Senator in Gaul (that is before the Gauls sold out to the Romans), I'm not saying the Americans were charging around wildly with swords and axes (that would have been debatedly cool). It was clear I wasn't an American, I was in the classic British sense of the word 'properly' dressed.
Around the gates was a giant ring of eateries, full restaurants - take away pizza for your flight, and then there was it... the biggest curveball - TGIF Take Away.
To understand this its worth starting back a few hours. Now... I'm not suggesting we're going to go back to the Summer of 05 to understand this with several seasons of comedy before getting to the final punch line, so we'll just go back to the Heathrow-Dallas flight I found myself on, and miss out the mundane nonsense that are conventional linear narratives that curse so many decent blogs/stories...
And as a forethought, remember counting 80,000 people as a million leads to much confusion... this will be (well maybe, I mean I could just leave you bored and unfulfilled... I'll think on whether you, oh great merciful reader, deserve to hear this part of the story...)
Space DC10s to the Future!
Space DC10s, the remit of Scientology - that awesome [libellibellibellibellibellibel] group of [libellibellibellibellibel].
Well my plane from LHR (London Heathrow - abreviated to LHR for possible-badassness - you be the judge oh great reader) - was a BA777, I had managed to blag the 'Great Mystrical Financier' to upgrading me to 'Premium Economy' for shifting a load of stuff to clear my OD (Overdraft). And it was a good reward.
'Premium Economy' is a total oxymoron, but a pretty good one its like 'Limited Total War' or 'Its Tesco Value, but made from decent caviar'... ok, crappy analogy but its the best I can really manage right now.
Basically you get the old Club seats, better film choice, food - that sort of stuff. And seemingly a more Premium passenger.
Clearly Premium Economy Passengers due to Wearing of Pastel Colours
You also get enough leg room to give you delusions of grandeur, every now and then I'd hear people discussing big business ideas whilst I sat with... well a man I tip my hat off to.
I do not remember his name, but he was a retired Scotsman from Edinburgh. For this we'll call him 'Alex' as thats like a totally racially-neutral name...
Scotland and Scottish People - Anything but Stereotypical
Alex suprised me somewhat, I mean he was very well travelled - Krakow, Czechoslovakia next May, all over the UK, America, Europe, the works. I mean... well I'm pretty certain he was very well travelled as he had a thicker accent than a Haggis from Glasgow. This became somewhat confusing as half the time I simply could make out only a few words.
Such as "Las Vegas... no gambling shows.... we like shows." Each '...' consists of around 5 minutes of conversation, so I guess (working hypothesis) that he was going to Vegas not for the gambling but instead he was going for the mind blowing shows.
Alex turned out to be a top fellow and we ended up covering many aspects of conversation - ranging from the socio-political effects of the Second World War, historiography since 1945 regarding the aforementioned war, and social commentry over the 10 hour flight.
At this point I would like to mention my attempt to smarten up to try and blag an upgrade failed. Lets not dwell on that... (You should have worked that out by now noble reader.)
Alex and I concluded that planes were essentially flying fuel tankers, with seats gaffa taped onto them turning them into luxury coaches - and therefore air travel was a terribly comedic activity. Reader, don't judge me, I mean we still had 4 hours to go and the travel conversation was in a loop over 'Poland' and we both agreed 'Lovely People'. Fly Me To The Moon
You may remember my focus on Space DC10s and Scientology earlier, this was not a totally random brainshower. After we had watched a couple of films, I asked him, "What music is suitable for flying?"
We looked at each other dumbstruck, I mean its the sort of thing thats clear in:
Or...
If you hear this playing over the intercomn on a standard 767 you know you are in trouble.
But what do you have running on a standard flight? As turbulance began to kick in, I raced through a variety of tracks; Spitfire by The Prodigy, 633 Squadron (from film of same name), Dambusters, Snakes on a Plane, Top Gun soundtrack, Can't Fight The Moonlight by Toploader...
Perhaps certain flights should have Wagner/Bach playing? So the passengers could engage in respectful contemplation of the technological miracle that is flight?
Nothing quite cut it, I mean for your average 4-7 hour flight what single song sums it up?
First Class/Club is very obvious I mean...
But for the rest of us? Well... after arguing semantics for around an hour we concluded this song (below)was seemingly passable enough to get us united with a rough consensus that it was passable!
The Serious Business is Concluded the John Terry Business Commences
The Serious Business of the Music was resolved. Huzzah.
However by now I was encountering a substantial problem. My motto when I fly is 'its if free, get it' and the easiest thing going around are usually cheap drinks. By now I had enjoyed: Pint of Pepsi at Heathrow, London Pride, Wine, apple juice, water, coke... I won't go into the quantities of each but I was sober but most definately full. So I had a dilemna, what do I do - do I try and hold it in like a ruptured Dam or do I just go as and when neccessary?
I chose a mixture of the two, which lasted for a while until I realised I was screwed... my bladder was now looser than John Terry's quick release underwear. With turblance - I was screwed.
Exhibit 29: Quick Release Underwear
I managed to overcome the problem at hand with a series of cunning MacGyver-esque moves that would have impressed even Timothy Dalton. At this stage I also pick up a drinks tip for you - Renowned and Respected Reader - Bison Vodka, polish vodka with apple juice - it is the drink of the gods. According to Alex at least.
Like Art By now the plane was coming in to land at Dallas - it appeared out of the blue like meaning in a Tesco Value Impressionist Painting. The wing tipped enough to make out a vast building Gaylord Texan - mental note to self Texans have no sense of humour regarding this...
Dallas Airport was huge, I actually think its quite smaller than Heathrow but it was designed to look impressive and awe inspiring, with a monorail running through the shops, it certainly managed that.
Despite the people, the shops, the monorail, the cleanliness the whole place felt a bit like 'Shangri-la in reverse' - The Ghost Writer (watched on the plane). The lines of mass fast food outlets were somewhat depressing, especially seeing a few people holding two tickets - clearly just for themselves. Huge takeaways, the works just washed over me and with the news of a 1-1 draw with the US in the World Cup, I was rather bemused.
Be cautious around Two-Seaters, they tend to enjoy unexpected snacks
I needed a new pen for my notebook after misplacing my last one, and decided to get a sandwich. This was another mistake. The smallest Subway made my appetite look pitiful, huge pint sized drinks of pink lemonade beckoned... after 10 minutes searching for a 'British, you know a small sandwich with a little chicken and bread?' I recieved astonished and confused looks, settling in the end for a pink lemonade and the cheapest pen.
As I started scribbling notes, witty ideas, that sort of nonsense down I realised it read 'Don't Mess With Texas' brilliant! Cracking start! Then discovered the pink lemonade was 'uncarbonated', oh well Blitz Spirit and suchlike! People were very friendly but I only managed to keep up morale by listening to some Canadian-Syntho-Rock...
So I sat there and my eyes rested upon TGIF Take Away, I just couldn't work it out...
Hell I still can't, and decided to call this entry closed for now... but naturally that journey was not over just yet...
I apologise, I am trying to keep the historic military metaphors to a bare minimum... I also apologise for the incessant HIMYM fanboy-ness that really comes through. I've recently started watching it from Season One and I'm addicted.
So, part of me wants to take an airfreight container full of suits, yet I lack the financial resources to do this, and also the number of suits needed to pull it off. Also after yesterday's shocking revelation regarding 'Smart Casual' in America... well I decided to show some random quick google Smart Casual stereotypes...
Bonny Prince Charlie in classic British Smart Casual.
German smart casual wear - as you can see its basically 'tea cosy wear', with a notable lack of hair...
Australian smart casual - I just find this terribly troubling.
Anyway...
That has resolved yesterday's argument, it seems 'smart casual' changes so radically according to which culture wears clothes, how and in what context that... well I guess I'll just play it by ear and take a suitable selection of clothing.
On a side note, I'm flying BA and we were warned about getting too sloshed on planes, due to (amazingly enough) US Homeland Security types don't like armchaired Brits staggering into Dallas off a flight. They tend to give you a pat on the back, make your life difficult and send you home.
Thanks to the 21kg weight limit, I've decided to put some speakers in my suit case and the usual assortment of clothes.
Taking speakers to various colourful international trips has always proved a winner in the past, I mean in Russia 2008 we rocked out to Bon Jovi smashed on local vodka in our own hotel room party. It sounds lame, but rocking out to Britney Spears in a Soviet helmet and... I guess you had to be there, but it was amazing... [Refer back to first post for June regarding drunkenness and great nights out.]
Anyway, after this somewhat pointless post, of excellent procrastination value (one could argue - if some horrible Anime nutter - that it had a production value of over 9000...)
An old military mantra, the aforementioned 6Ps insure a degree of 'survival' to any operation or military unit. As seen during Operation Barbarossa, despite meticulous planning it was not 'Proper' as the Jerries invaded with vast quantities of captured equipment from France, Britain, Czechoslovakia - they did so with inadequate parts support and soon mechanised Divisions slowed to crawls as transport broke down, and they also decided to go and have a bash at Greece at the same time...
What does the above tell us? Well had they looked at the strategic situation properly, then they would not have found themselves in such a tricky situation with huge numbers of troops going to Greece just prior to invading Russia, and would have sorted out their massive equipment crisis which was threatening any/all offensive movement into Russia...
Why is this remotely important? Well currently I am making sure the 6Ps apply to my planning.
Recce To go Stateside, its necessary to review what one needs to wear for the job at hand, saying 'Smart, casual' to someone from Germany is different from Australia. I mean if you are in an office and someone marches in wearing an immaculate suit, whilst the other comes in wearing shorts, shades and a barbeque carried over their shoulder - its quite clear that cultural differences in language play a big part.
I need 'smart/casual' stuff... so what sort are we looking at? Asides from the massive aforementioned stereotypes its tricky to know what to do, not least due to the cultural/language differences. So, I have started reconnaissance.
I decided to search online for 'Oklahoma City', no we don't mention that, ok 'Oklahoma City People', and found... well page after page of the same damned picture of the Fireman and the baby, yes I know its powerful, moving and Pulitzer Prize winning but it does not help me in my quest to find out what to wear. Unless they all dress like fireman.
Attempts to refine it didn't work that well... finally finding a university in Oklahoma's propaganda:
Ok... so what does this tell me about Oklahoma, dresscodes, and other such vital things. I believe that I must bring some heavy footwear, as it seems that there is less gravity here, I would not want to jump up and find myself spiralling off like in Santa Claus the Movie. If your mind needs prodding into remembering this (debately) 1980s gem:
Asides from the expected mix of hoodies which I dislike, (I always feel that they are too damned chavvy, a fleece does the job perfectly well...) It appears that the fellow in the centre is wearing a dodgy 1970s style jumper suited for a Christmas present from your Great Aunt.
If I was a conspiracy nut I'd be claiming the hands in the air were some sign of occult reference that would soon spiral out of control and destroy us all, but I am sadly not, and indeed frustrated by my lack of progress.
Frustration With my search for intel growing tiresome and thin, and knowing that time is of the essence, I decided to go rogue, search for something so crazy, so ridiculously pointless that it may, just MAY work.
I searched for 'Awesome American Clothes'.
Now ladies and gentlemen, if you ever wonder what something means, or have a brilliant idea, do NOT use Google or any other search provider for it. Sleep on it, phone a friend, or ask the audience, as I will testify to accidentally finding out certain things that I could have lived in blissful ignorance of after a drunken search on my Blackberry.
This is one of those things, and you can decide for yourself how terrible it is:
If that is really what americans consider 'Awesome American Clothes' then I am in real trouble.
My penultimate search was for, 'american clothes smart casual' and this revealed the most exciting image yet. Pretty much normal attire, with a smug grin, slightly iffy haircut and shades. I can do that. I think.
Final mistake of the day was to search for 'american clothes smart casual oklahoma' which yieled many result of: Now THAT is a curveball.
Conclusion I am now ridiculously confused, and pricing up a mix of a ty-dye suit, shades, slightly iffy haircut and a selection of lollies to chew on.
My University student card certainly sums up my feelings on the matter.
Will the 6Ps fail me? Will all this attempt at prep be a near disaster? We'll wait and see... anything can happen in the next half hour...
