My blog is one year old today

All together now:

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear bloggy
Happy Birthday to you


... and you smell like one too!

Wow. A whole year has gone by since Thomas HW Phipps, a mild-mannered newspaper journalist cage-fighter, turned on his computer and logged onto blogspot.com, and was transformed into the wild and kerazy pimp of magic known only as Chainsaw Zombie. It's been a journey, everyone. But wow. Isn't it amazing when you think that a whole year has gone by? And I mean, Christ, what a year it's been. Lets just think of the crazy things I've done, and all the amazing adventures that I've had.

...

Wow. A WHOLE year has gone by since last Christmas, and literally nothing has happened to me. I haven't matured, either emotionally or physically. No life-changing events have occurred. I haven't had any terrible experiences that have left me older and just a little bit wiser inside. I didn't get a job. I didn't learn to play the lute. No decent celebrities have died. Nothing has knocked me out of my comfortable rut. I still haven't been able to complete Goldeneye on 00 Agent. Thinking about it, what the hell was the point of 2005? I achieved fuck all. This blog is probably the most worthwhile thing that I've done all year.

That is undeniably depressing.

Well, this has been a shambles of a year. What a fucking waste of time 2005 was.

But anyway, back to the blog. Well, we've had some tears, we've had some anger, we've had some brutal fistfights to the death, we've even had some laughs. Actually, I hope we've had some laughs. I mean, I am a funny guy, and I do spend like an hour on a half on every post. There is some EFFORT put into this blog. I check the speling on every word, just to make sure there's no reason for anybody to think that this is some shabbily put together organisation. And you don't even realise how much work goes on behind the scenes of chainsawzombie.blogspot.com. You think that this magic just happens. BUT NO, YOU'RE WRONG. Every post goes through a 2 week long vetting process, in which I check and re-write every word at least twice. If I write a post and it's not good enough for my audience, then do I put it up anyway? NO I DON'T. I delete it and pretend it never happened. (NB: this is definitely not just a case of me being lazy and not being arsed to fix the post/write it).
Because of this, there are a number of pictures that I've made that no longer have posts to go with them. They're just floating about in cyberspace. They're alone and postless. Here are a couple of examples. If you want to, you could imagine the posts to go with them. They were really funny:







Kerazy, huh?

Anyway, I pasted my entire blog into Word. IT WAS 400 PAGES LONG. It also froze my computer twice, which just shows the power of decent literature. Here are some fun statistics:

Total words: 212, 731.
Total characters: 1,158,099.

FUCK that is a LOT of button pressing. I wonder how much energy I've used up just pressing the keys to work this blog? I KNOW I'LL WORK IT OUT USING MY AMAZING PHYSIX POWERZ. Well, using some weights I found downstairs, I reckon it takes about 60g of weight to depress one key on my keyboard. This is 0.06 kg, yeah? This is therefore 0.6 newtons, N. And you move the key, say, one cm, or 0.01 metres. And if work done (j) = force (N) x distance moved (0.01m) x the number of repetitions, then the total amount of work I've spent creating this blog is 0.6N x 0.01m x 1,158,099 = 6,948.59 JOULES. Or kilojoules. I can't remember. But that's still pretty cool. To be honest, I no longer do physics, so I have no idea what that number means. Or if I worked it out correctly.

Total number of Paragraphs: 7,705 (I quote my first ever post: "There will be paragraphs. Paragraphs are good." I feel I have lived up to my promise)
Total usage of the word 'fuck' (or varients): 603 (I therefore said this word an average of 1.65 times EVERY DAY)
Total usage of the word 'shit' (or varients): 427
Total usage of the most foul of foul C words (or varients): 71
Total number of swear words: 1,241 (which is 3.110275 times more than the South Park movie. Take that, you fiends!)
Total usage of "Oli G": 41
Total usage of the word "God": 194 (although it does pick up every time that "God" is included in a word, so a few of those might be from "Godzilla Ninjas". Yaaaay.)
Total usage of the word "Jesus": 44. So that means that all the combined power of religion can't compete with the F word. GO SWEARING!
References to sex: 147
References to drugs: 39
References to rock and/or roll: 183

And if you've just stumbled upon this blog after a long wandering through cyberspace, and want to know what all the magic is about, but you have some sort of alien lifeform eating its way through your brain and you only have a few minutes left to live, here's my blog compressed into a 100th of its size via the magic of Word's 'Autosummarise' feature:

Right. Cool, . Shit, . Yolk time.
"Right... ZOMBIE FILM TIME.
Cool . Poor guys. I hate people
Shit. If you're me. I hate people.
Zombie HEAD!"
DANCE PARTY TIME! Other cool guy: , .
FOUR TIMES. Shit. LIFE. Bond Films. Cool death? well.. Anyway. Cool. Fat people. ANYWAY. Shit, . ANYWAY. Anyway. Anyway. Anyway. If I want
ANYWAY. Shit, posted points posted points
Anyway... Saving people? Kill zombies... Guys. Ogg: Shit... Fucking God.
Zombie Films. Zombie... zombie... zombie... zombie.... Shit. If they're hard core."
Zombies. Killed. Zombies? Thomas's brain: SHIT!
Run. Zombies? Zombies? Class film.

I have no idea what that's all about. Screw you, Autosummarise. Piece of crap.

So basically, I'm great. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLOG-BUDDIES! ONWARDS TO 2006!

(By the way, if you've enjoyed this blog and would like to send me money, please leave me a comment and we'll make the necessary arrangements. No time wasters.)

Blogging? Smlogging. Kerkaplogging. Klerklamumped. Siggedyumpted. Dumppedtumped. Dumped.

I know it's a long time since I last blogged, but GUESS WHAT GUYS? I have BIG NEWS. Really big news. If you're female, this could be the best news you've heard all year. I GOT DUMPED.
THAT'S RIGHT. I'M SINGLE AND AVAILABLE AGAIN. I'm now a solo pimp, back on the block, back on the blog, rollin' wit me homeboys and drive-buying from car-wheeling merchants on THE WIKKITY-WEST TOWN BROKEN-DREAMS BOULEVARD GHETTO HOMIE-BLUD. But seriously, take a ticket and form an orderly line, ladies, there's probably enough of me to go around. Actually, who am I kidding? There are only a few tickets left to Thomasville, population Me, principal industry: being really fit and amazing at everything. Walk, don't run, and SNAP ME UP before some passing Hollywood Starlet does.

"But Thomas, how did it happen?" I hear you cry. "Was there drama? Was there illicitness? Was there a love rat? Did you fall to your knees in the rain, crying out your heart, screaming your grief and loneliness at the sky? Did you ever give her the ring? What were her reasons? What are the details?"

Well, there are many answers to these questions. Many of these answers contain the word 'no'. The drama mostly consisted of two MSN conversations. No illicitness. Only one love rat, and that was an actual rat who was in love with another rat, and has no role in our breakup. No falling to my knees in the rain, crying out my heart, screaming my grief and loneliness at the sky. WHAT RING? Was it made of chocolate?

And now onto the reasons and details. Well, actually, if you're expecting reasons, I'd probably stop reading now, seeing as the female mind works kind of like a clock filled with custard and frogs (ie: oddly and non-sensically).

Well, my friends, firstly, the big dumping speech was over MSN. MSN. (I actually typed that MSN in capitals, as if SHOUTING IT, but you can't tell because MSN is already capitalised, so it doesn't really work. Perhaps I could incorporate some html or something? Maybe an exclamation mark or two? Hmm.) MSN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. MSN is such a coward's choice. Like, in ancient Japan, when you lost a battle you were supposed to stab yourself with your own sword in order to avoid the embarassment of losing a battle against the Godzilla ninjas. The same basic priniciple applies here, except stabbing yourself with your sword to avoid embarassment is kind of cool, whereas using an internet chat program is just wussy.
And anyway, you're only supposed to use MSN for asking out, not dumping (Unless you're me, in which any way of dumping is fine. Hey, the girl was lucky to get a chance in the first case, not my fault if she blew it, and I don't want get cried on). So that was Failure No.1 on girlfriend's part. She wanted a quick and easy breakup (Like a prostitute with running shoes), now she has long and drawn out (Like my penis being captured in pictoral form using a pencil).

Failure No.2: Giving me literally no decent reasons. Now, I know it's a female's perogative to instantaneously change her mind/change her mind again/have wild mood swings/have mild mood swings/change her mind AGAIN/go feral and eat her own babies/randomly start crying for no reason, but COME ON. I wouldn't have thought it was possible to go from happy as larry one day, to full nuclear relationship meltdown the next for no reason, but hey, thats why I'm not a girl, and that's what happened.
I mean, if she'd found me having sex with a swahlilian horse, or she wanted to run away with an emotionally-diorheatic midget dwarf with mother issues, or she'd suddenly been offered ONE MILLION DOLLARS to spend the night with an ugly billionaire played by Robert Redman, or she'd found me listening to Coldplay and enjoying it, well, then, I'd understand. But I'm a MALE, and I need CONCRETE REASONS. Possibly with a nice table of figures and numbers to back up the point. To be honest, for me, the optimum break-up would be in graphical form, including at least one multicoloured pie-chart. But I didn't even get a SCATTER GRAPH.
Instead, she chose to explain herself using a seemingly endless list of random female feelingful reasons that mean nothing to the more intelligent (read: male) members of society. Despite their total weakness and lack of reasoning, they still won the day. To explain this concept to the average male, I will use the famous Terminator 2: Judgement Day analogy.
The problem with fucked up female touchy-feely reasons is that they're the T-1000. No matter how many times I detonate them with your powerful explosive shrapnel shells of compressed logic and reasoning (as the Arnie terminator), they always seem to subltly shift to something different and equally non-sensiscal. This continues until I have no more shells left, or I lose interest. Therefore, "I feel we work better as friends due to some core differences in fundamental beliefs" shifts to "Well I'm actually a lot more female than you thought I was" shifts to "Well now I can't possibly go on because I KNOW we're going to break up sooner or later" shifts to "Well it's like a balloon, see, and when it pops IT'S GONE," shifts to "I don't want to break up with you, really, but now its just IMPOSSIBLE to go on because of my feelings". Its impossible to win this battle. Even liquid nitrogen/a really hot pit of molten metally stuff/the might of common sense can't defeat this T-1000 - the T-1000 of female emotions. This proves an important scientific point: Logic does not work on females. Write that point down in your copy-books. However, being a boatie, I've not won things for the past three years, and it hasn't really put me off. I'm used to it. To be honest, losing feels like the natural progression to me. Therefore, I kept pegging away at destroying her reasons, thus combatting the T-1000, thus fighting an unwinnable fight, for far too long. Reason for Failure No.2.

Failure No.3: Her third failure was in that she weakend - my endless attacks overwhelmed her enough for her to 'agree' to us 'going on a break'. Usually, when couples "go on a break" it means that they'll spend half a week apart feeling sad, before probably gett back together and having lots of fun make-up sex (By the way, make-up sex is NOT sex involving lipstick and rouge being thrown about willy-nilly. It's actually sex in which you make-UP your differences in opinion and vow to become better people). In this case "going on a break" does not mean that. We both knew that 'going on a break' meant 'stopping this awkard MSN conversation by throwing Thomas a possible bone of reconciliation, but then dumping him in two weeks time'. That bone was a bad idea. It was not a good idea to throw me that bone. That bone will bring you down, dear, no matter how much it makes you look less harsh for dumping your boyfriend of four months for no reason OVER MSN. I knew that the bone was just a bone. I knew that was literally no point. But then I thought to myself "I'll make a romantic gesture and VISIT HER AT HER HOUSE". So I did. Then I spent the day with her. In the process, I realised, 'What the fuck am I trying to get back with her for after all? She's very nice and all, but to be honest all the spark has gone and she spends all the time talking to her vacuous friends on the phone instead of building a totem pole to me, and then worshipping it."
So therefore, girlfriend, I have come to a decision. I don't think that it's a good idea that we go on a break. It is totally pointless. Nothing is going to happen. You obviously has no wish for us to be back together, and I've totally lost interest. Therefore, that's it. We've officially broken up. IT'S OVER. *Cries and screams at the sky* Actually, shit, shouldn't I tell you this in private first, instead of just randomnly coming up with it on my blog? Fuck, that would be really harsh, wouldn't it? Hey, at least it's not over MSN. Ha ha, I WIN.

So therefore, Lucia, overall I rate you 3/10 for your dumping technique. Must try harder (possibly, by PICKING UP THE PHONE AND CALLING, and by ACTUALLY HAVING SOME DECENT REASONS and GIVING ME EVEN A TINY BIT OF WARNING)

But anyway, I've gotten over the deep spiritual malaise that's plagued me for the past week. I feel fine again. Food tastes better, I'm full of blog ideas and best of all: IT'S NEARLY BOXING DAY! I am now a happy person. I am totally not twisted, deeply resentful, or suppressing feelings of violence or rage. In fact, as an example of my new zippedy-doo-da outlook on life, I offered to decorate our family Christmas cake:





I know what you're thinking. Shouldn't "SEASONS" have an apostrophe in it? After all, they are the greetings of the seasons - POSSESSIVE.

What? Bitter? Me? Nah.

Christmas, eh?

Shucks.
I'm liking these minimal posts that I've started doing.
They require less work. And they have a nice sort of cool white art-deco styling. I bet that Edward Hopper would love 'em.
Seriously, though, I WILL blog properly when I gain some motivation.
Which should be soon.
Hopefully.

Oh, and for all my Buddhist readers out there (seeing this is the most multi-cultural blog in the WORLD), aiming to achieve total spiritual enlightenment through meditation, fasting, and prayer, I have a SPECIAL Christmas present. Check out this sign I saw on my travels:



You guys must all feel so stupid. You thought that the only way to reach Nirvana was by extinguishing craving and breaking the circle of reincarnation, no longer experiencing any sense of the self and becoming one with Buddha, when IN FACT, it's readily available for a few quid from a kiosk in Kingston train station.
Tea latte is the way to go.
Cunts.
Merry Christmas.