My cackhanded haiku

What the fucking hell?

Japanese poems abound

Crazy fucking yanks.

Yes we did. And Yes I will

I feel indescribable right now.

I couldn't vote, not being a citizen and all that, I can ( and did ) donate to 3 progressive democrats.

Two of them are still having their results tallied, both races are neck in neck.

The other is now President-Elect of the United States of America. (that felt damn good to type)

All this helped me to answer a question that has been hounding me since I set foot in this country, the citizenship question.

Becoming a full citizen means revoking my British citizenship, I would not be able to go back to Northern Ireland for longer than 3 months. If anything happened I would be on my own, my family would not be able to fly me home anymore. The beautiful, bizarre land of Ulster, with its rocky coasts, rolling green fields and those stark, yet strangely comforting slate gray skies, would no longer be my true home.

My friends in Belfast, that leering, freewheeling carnival of drunkards, chain smokers, hedonists and avowed bastards, they will remain my friends till the day I die. Rest assured I will make arrangements in the future to unleash them sporadically on an unsuspecting America. Unfortunately my memories of spending winters in the pub, ensconced with my fellow miscreants in the snug, pints clutched in hands will remain just that, memories.

Choosing citizenship sacrifices a lot, but there is much to gain.

Since arriving in the colonies, I have found a new circle of friends, certainly not as depraved as the ones I left behind, but I hold them in equally high regard. The last month would have been unbearable without them. The people here are hardworking, compassionate, and they don't throw rocks at people.

I have, for the first time in my life, a job that I truly enjoy, even though it will not make me rich.

My mother cannot mother me as much.

However, even with all this in mind I was still undecided.

Until last night, when the America that I read about in my history books, the land of hope and liberty, looked me in the eye and told me that I can.

As soon as I am eligible I plan on applying for Citizenship. I will pay my fee, take my test and recite my oath with pride.

And in 2012 I can finally vote for Barack Obama.

Who was that masked idiot?

So what is next for me in my bumbling international quest to elevate foolishness to an art form?

I have a list!

I need to get a place, I can stay here for a month or two, but its a tiny house and its filled with all sorts of sentimental crap that makes me feel like I've been punched in the gut every time I take my eyes away from the monitor for more than 5 seconds. Jason and Bobby seem to be on board with the apartment idea, but I need somewhere that takes pets so that I may bring my wee mad bastard (the one on my shoulder)

I also need to get my shit together and learn how to drive. Being born and raised in a city (and 30 yards from a bus stop no less) I have never needed nor wanted to drive. Now the ability to cart my own lazy ass around town would come in handy, so I need to stop procrastinating and get down to the wretched DMV or whatever acronym it goes by here and get my learners permit.

I need to put some time aside to get blind drunk.

I need to get my eyes tested.

I need to go down to Virginia Beach to see the good doctor about going under the knife next year, not looking forward to that one.

I need to sort my finances out. All of my money goes into a joint account right now. Eventually that will have to stop.

I need to figure out what is going on with my green card, wild horses could not drag me back to Belfast.

I need to escape this god damned peninsula.

Obviously I need to get my priorities in order, so the first thing I need to do is buy an electric guitar.

What?

This seems like an odd move for me to make, but if I wait till after I do the other stuff, then I may not be able to get one. I used to play a bit back home, not in a band or anything, just fucking around on my fender in my room for hours on end. I always wanted to do more with it, but I got married instead. This is not a sensible decision, some would argue that it is not a sane decision, myself among them.

But I don't care. I'm buying a guitar, and its going to be fucking badass.

Soooo....

My wife is leaving me. How do you really write about something like that? Its a situation I find myself ill equipped to deal with. I have no frame of reference, and I cant turn it into a sports analogy like the news pundits do because I know nothing about the wacky sports in this country.

I suppose I could write about how I "feel"

When she told me there was someone else I was (naturally) shocked

When I found out he was 19 and in Northern Ireland I was confused

When she bought an 800 dollar plane ticket to go see him I was angry

When she started talking to him on the voice chat while I was in the room I was sad

When I started talking to my friends about getting an apartment together I was excited

When I realized I would be able to make ex-wife jokes I considered a career as a stand up comedian.

I always try to look on the bright side of things, I suppose this means the world is my oyster.

I hate oysters.

The world is my taco.

Pump up the volume?

The USA

The land of opportunity.

Home of the Statue of Liberty and the Philly Cheesesteak

A fist full of sweet sweet Olympic gold.

And the worst radio in the civilized world.

When I were a lad, I used to listen to the radio at home. Every night I would lay about in my room and listen to BBC Radio One for hours, the Evening Session would start around 7 or 8, playing a big selection of new music, from mostly established artists, but never the likes of the horrible pop that lived on the top 40. At 10pm, Mark Radcliffe came on the air, playing much the same thing, but with a lot more talk and the occasional radio comedy show. At the stroke of midnight, the action switched to John Peel, playing new bands, unsigned artists (he had a standing deal that if you sent him something in the mail and he liked it, he would play it on his show) He played everything from punk to hip-hop, metal to aboriginal drum music. He was the best.

Cut to 10 years later - America

I only ever listen to the radio in the car, and only when my wifes parents are with us, as they cant hear anything with "cusswords" in it or they will turn into pumpkins at midnight or some shit.

We have 2 stations they listen to. The Duck, an oldies station that plays a few classics and a lot of crap that should have died with the 50's 60's and 70's. If I hear one more song about teens getting killed on the road at night I will loose my mind. Even if Eddie Vedder is singing.

The other station is Joe FM. Random music in random order with nothing from the last 10 years.

I don't think even a young Christian Slater can save the radio here now.

I have to get ready for work now, which means 15 minutes of audio rape from 30 years ago are about to charge relentlessly down my poor earholes.

Hancock (Spoilers!)

So I saw the much anticipated Hancock last night.

Will Smith, Jason Bateman and Charlize Theron all gave good performances, and between the 3 of them, they stopped the movie from sucking.

The story was so weak that I barely even noticed it hiding behind the special effects, it ends with no real satisfying resolution. The plot was unbelievably predictable, mostly thanks to the number of closeups on Theron's face looking worried and conflicted, and the retarded length of said closeups. Seriously. It was like they had a subplot about a camera that wanted to have sex with Charlize Theron.

As for the supervillain...

There isn't one.

Thats right.

A superhero move without a supervillain.

There is a villain, but he isn't much, just a criminal. The only background his character has is divulged by a newsreader in the background of one of the scenes, while other dialogue is taking place, and he seems to be in the movie for comic relief, only really menacing the characters in the closing scenes of the movie.

Oh, Back to the Future called. They want their running gag back.

All the bad stuff aside, the cast do give great performances, Smith makes you feel genuine sympathy for his struggling hero, Bateman is endearing as a down on his luck father trying to make the world a better place. Theron plays her part well, but is let down by a lack of chemistry with her co-stars.

I would rent it and save your 9 bucks for Batman, or Hellboy.

Grocery Bag must be stopped!

Painfully new to this, but everyone else is doing it, so it must be cool!

At times this blog will make no sense, but I'll try to keep the disjointed rambling to a minimum. It will consist mostly of rants (is there any other purpose for a blog?) and the occasional observation. I will try to keep the tone amusing, I have noticed lately that I can be a morose motherfucker sometimes. I am trying to avoid this.

Also, I will write about my cat.

And theres not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me.

Bye for now.
Chris.