As those of you who follow me on Twitter or in real life will know, I celebrate New Year. This year I had some very enjoyable festivities with some people, involving a certain well known drinking game.
For those of you who don't know, Ring of Fire is a drinking game, named after a Jonnie Cash song made famous by Ben. The rules are simple: every card in the ring carries a rule. As in a standard deck there are thirteen cards in a suit. One rule for each card. For anyone who can instantly remember 13 rules it's simple. For everyone else it's like having to play Star Wars Risk without being able to refer to the manual. There are more restrictions than the Labour government imposed on civil liberties. It makes drinking into work.
Basically, making numerous rules that no-one can keep track of to force alcohol on those who don't want it and deprive alcohol from those who do is good for no-one. People even had to read instructions on their phones every time a card was drawn, much to the emboringment of proceedings.Of course, I may just be bitter because I kept getting the "make a new rule" card and couldn't think of anything, making me the boring twat of the group but mleh!
This was swiftly followed by a game of "never have I ever..." in which the player names something they have never done and anyone who has done that thing has to drink. As someone who has never done anything of any interest, I drank very little. The irony of all this is that had I been simply drinking of my own accord I would have emerged significantly more inebriated at the other end than I did in this case.
All being said, I had a good night. Being out of the house was an improvement on my expectations.
After a while we went to a club which wasn't too packed or expensive. There I met a guy I had a dance off with during my last night out before I returned to uni in second year, a year and a half ago. We recognized one another and paid tribute to each others' dance moves. Much to my shame, he revealed he is in his thirties, at least a decade my senior. Any of you who knows anything about the way I dance or the state of my physical fitness will understand that there's no way I'll be winning dance offs in ten year's time. Any way, the chat was amicable, considering our past death match (of dancing).
Now on to music. I don't believe any kind of music is demonstrably better than any other in any relevant sense. Even in film I think it will probably be agreed upon in most societies in most times that, say, Anthony Hopkins, is a better actor than Megan Fox, but I think music is entirely contingent on society and circumstances. Popular music is only so because of the context in which it is born. This being so, the pop song "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana makes my laugh, as so often its fans act as if they subscribe to some kind of alternative or act as if it is in some way better than mainstream music. When it came on this evening I realized it's just a single repetitive hook. Bo bo bo boooo ba ba ba baaaa bo bo bo boooo ba ba ba baaa. This is the same as any pop song by Rihanna or One fucking Direction. People can like whatever music they like as far as I'm concerned, but when people like music full of repetitive hooks then condemn other pop music for that same reason they need to shut their faces. I just hate people who pretend to be alternative. At lease other pop singers can hold a note rather than just shout *cough* Kurt Cobain *cough* Rant over.
2012 was a year that was built up to for a long time. "The Olympics" they cried, since 2005. "The Apocalypse" they cried, "The Jubilee" they cried. 2012! The year that was hailed from afar! But when it came it was pretty much the same as any other year. Except for the fucking Olympics and Jubilee. There was a bit of a recession, but not enough of a recession to be interesting.
But for me it was a good year, one of the best in fact, and will be remembered fondly. Any way, these are my reflections at this moment in time, sorry it's not more interesting. Headline of the Year 2012 is on its way later this week. Thank you for following me this year, my dear reader (singular). I think I will be boring you with sub-par writing for years to come.
For those of you who don't know, Ring of Fire is a drinking game, named after a Jonnie Cash song made famous by Ben. The rules are simple: every card in the ring carries a rule. As in a standard deck there are thirteen cards in a suit. One rule for each card. For anyone who can instantly remember 13 rules it's simple. For everyone else it's like having to play Star Wars Risk without being able to refer to the manual. There are more restrictions than the Labour government imposed on civil liberties. It makes drinking into work.
Basically, making numerous rules that no-one can keep track of to force alcohol on those who don't want it and deprive alcohol from those who do is good for no-one. People even had to read instructions on their phones every time a card was drawn, much to the emboringment of proceedings.Of course, I may just be bitter because I kept getting the "make a new rule" card and couldn't think of anything, making me the boring twat of the group but mleh!
This was swiftly followed by a game of "never have I ever..." in which the player names something they have never done and anyone who has done that thing has to drink. As someone who has never done anything of any interest, I drank very little. The irony of all this is that had I been simply drinking of my own accord I would have emerged significantly more inebriated at the other end than I did in this case.
All being said, I had a good night. Being out of the house was an improvement on my expectations.
After a while we went to a club which wasn't too packed or expensive. There I met a guy I had a dance off with during my last night out before I returned to uni in second year, a year and a half ago. We recognized one another and paid tribute to each others' dance moves. Much to my shame, he revealed he is in his thirties, at least a decade my senior. Any of you who knows anything about the way I dance or the state of my physical fitness will understand that there's no way I'll be winning dance offs in ten year's time. Any way, the chat was amicable, considering our past death match (of dancing).
Now on to music. I don't believe any kind of music is demonstrably better than any other in any relevant sense. Even in film I think it will probably be agreed upon in most societies in most times that, say, Anthony Hopkins, is a better actor than Megan Fox, but I think music is entirely contingent on society and circumstances. Popular music is only so because of the context in which it is born. This being so, the pop song "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana makes my laugh, as so often its fans act as if they subscribe to some kind of alternative or act as if it is in some way better than mainstream music. When it came on this evening I realized it's just a single repetitive hook. Bo bo bo boooo ba ba ba baaaa bo bo bo boooo ba ba ba baaa. This is the same as any pop song by Rihanna or One fucking Direction. People can like whatever music they like as far as I'm concerned, but when people like music full of repetitive hooks then condemn other pop music for that same reason they need to shut their faces. I just hate people who pretend to be alternative. At lease other pop singers can hold a note rather than just shout *cough* Kurt Cobain *cough* Rant over.
2012 was a year that was built up to for a long time. "The Olympics" they cried, since 2005. "The Apocalypse" they cried, "The Jubilee" they cried. 2012! The year that was hailed from afar! But when it came it was pretty much the same as any other year. Except for the fucking Olympics and Jubilee. There was a bit of a recession, but not enough of a recession to be interesting.
But for me it was a good year, one of the best in fact, and will be remembered fondly. Any way, these are my reflections at this moment in time, sorry it's not more interesting. Headline of the Year 2012 is on its way later this week. Thank you for following me this year, my dear reader (singular). I think I will be boring you with sub-par writing for years to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment