Archive for Thoughts

I am GENIUS* (*or slightly retarded)

Posted in Thoughts with tags , , , , , , , on May 19, 2006 by Bjorn Grainger

(This blog was originally written on Myspace)

The other night I was bored. So bored in fact, that I decided to take an IQ test. I entered ‘IQ test’ into Google (thus passing my first task with aplomb) and clicked on the first result to pop up. It required me to enter my age and email address, which I was a little weary about, but I entered them (using my spammy mail address where all my junk goes) and readied myself for the test.

Up the test popped. It was 30 questions with multi-choice answers and I was given 15 minutes to answer them. I went straight into it and was immediately stymied by the first question. It involved maths, and I HATE maths. So, after spending minutes on a question that should have taken 30 seconds, I was playing catch up. As the final seconds ticked by, I randomly clicked the answers of the last few questions just to be finished in time. I awaited my results and clicked through various pages only to be told I’d have to pay to get my results! BAH!!! Then I got a ping from my mailbox, i checked and it was my test score. My age adjusted score was 96 and the average for my age group was 100…

NO!!! I’m below average! I AM Spazz-ticus!

I wasn’t having that. I searched the Google results for a site whose IQ test I could trust, and i found it – MENSA. Yup, that’s what all those bloody clever genius folk are members of! I was more than up for the challenge of the Mensa FUN test. It was similar to the previous, though not every question was multi-choice, and it gave you a more leisurely half an hour to answer the 30 questions. Again there were maths questions to hurt my tiny mind, but also lovely wordy ones like “What 4 letter word can you add to CARD, BOX, CODE, BAG, HASTE to make other words?” My brain loves those and can answer them fairly quickly.

I finished the test more or less on time and clicked for my results. The wonderous Mensa gave me my score instantly, the trustworthy souls. I scored 21 out of 30 and Mensa informed me that was almost good enough to qualify for their genius club, though I’d have to take the proper Mensa test to find out…

YES!!! I AM GENIUS! Like Bert Weinstein or Steve ‘Justin’ Hawkins. Well, prolly…

(by the way, the answer to the Mensa question for those of you a bit slow in the ol’ headbox is, of course, POST)

(What do you mean you knew that already? EFF YOU, muddyfunster!)



Posted in Thoughts with tags , , , , , , on May 9, 2006 by Bjorn Grainger

(This blog was originally written on Myspace)

A few days ago I was at work going through my usual schtick of standing around doing as little as possible, when a woman entered my place of business. This is nothing out of the usual, women, children, dogs, and even MAN types have been known to have a wander around the premises. Anyway, the time came for her to be served and she came over to the till. It was at this point I noticed she had a series of thick scars running up and across both of her arms. I didn’t stare or call attention to them or anything, just inquisitive. Not that I would have asked, I’m far too polite.

It got me a-thinking, though. With a scar you always have a tale to tell, whether amazingly brave, desperately sad, incredibly scary, drunkenly stupid, or totally lame. I have a few insignificant little dents and scratches that fall into the latter category of story, and I’m going to tell them…

… NOW!

The first is a scar on the inside of left hand, just below my thumb. When I was eleven/twelve-ish I had a set of metal handcuffs I used to enjoy messing with. I had lost the key many moons ago, but had learned a way to open them with a penknife I owned. I would imagine i was escaping with the daring do of Houdini when manoeuvering the blade into the cuff and slipping the mechanism. One day, so cocky was I that I attempted to do this fantastic act of lock picking with my hands cuffed behind my back. I got a hold of the knife, gently positioned it to force the lock, and BAM! slipped it straight into my hand. Ouch!

I also have a small dent in my forehead which is barely visible now after being swallowed up by the ever-increasing lines of my constantly furrowed brow. When I was five I had a pedal digger. It was yellow and had a big scoop at the front. I loved it lots. So much so, I modified it. In a fit of destruction, I tore the scoop and front end of it and, in my mind, turned it into a dragster. I thought i was Speed Racer on the thing, and i would zoom around the block (the small group of houses around where i lived) at great speed, dodging doddery old folk and cars with utmost skill (Wow, the mid 80’s seem a world away. The parentals in this day and age wouldn’t have let me leave the safety of the back garden for fear of being stolen away by a Pete O’ File, or squished by thuggish boy racer! But, i digress).

On one of my many trips around the block, I spotted a couple of kids playing in their front garden. I stopped to see what they were doing (and to show off my yellow machine), and when they saw me they started throw stones. ‘That’s not very nice’, I thought as the stones landed around me, but I didn’t leave. Then they ran out of the front gate and threw the stones directly at me, hitting me in the chest and stomach, the one boy definitely aiming for my man parts, as a stone clattered the plastic beneath the seat I was on. Still i didn’t move, I must have been in shock at this unprovoked attack. They returned for a second wave and this time a stone smacked me right in the head. The pain must have brought me to my senses because I peddled like I had never peddled before and got myself out of there. I was crying so hard, the tears were streaming and mixed with the blood that was trickling from my head down face. I’ve never been so relieved to get home.

Also, when I was thirteen/fourteen, i thought it’d be really cool to have the word RAGE cut into the back of my hand. So, using some useful school, er, things like a compass and a blade from a pencil sharpener, I did it. But, luckily, it didn’t scar. The the things we crazy kids get up to, eh?

So people, don’t hide away your scars! Remember, every scar has a story, each one is proof of a life lived.

That said, this blog could just be aboot some weird fetish of mine. I mean, that scene in Lethal Weapon 3 where Mel Gibson and Rene Russo compare scars before embarking in the naughtiness was highly influential during my formative years. Often times i’d scare away a young lady type by showing mine before asking if they’d show me theirs…

Ever Get The Feeling You’re Being Watched?

Posted in Thoughts with tags , , , on March 14, 2006 by Bjorn Grainger

(This blog was originally written on Myspace)

I live in a small town in the rolling hills and valleys of mid-Wales. It’s a quiet little place, not a lot happens. When compared to the rest of the country, crime is practically non-existent. The worst we suffer from is mindless vandalism from bored teenagers and drunken yobs.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago i returned to work after a few days off to find a security camera had been installed. Now, I wouldn’t have minded if it were surveying the whole shop. But no, it was pointed directly at me, at the till.

There had been rumours amongst the other staff that money had been going missing, but I gave it no heed. I’m not one for gossip, and when it come to work (well, this job at least), i don’t give a damn. I just want to come in, do what has to be done, and leave with the minimum of fuss.

So, I stood there, under the gaze of the cold glass eye, and I noticed my behaviour had changed. I was definitely more self-conscious (I’m self-conscious at the best of times), making sure everything was in plain view of the camera, appearing as if I were working hard (i took it upon myself to do as little as possible around the shop after a disagreement with the boss. I leave it to the rest of the staff, they like their kiss-ass brownie points anyway). I have absolutely no idea why I was doing this as my conscience is clear. I’ve had nothing out of that till. It makes you think…

It’s two weeks on, my behaviour has returned to normal. I sit around listening to my iPod as often as I can, even getting slightly miffed if a customer dare disturb me. The money? It’s still missing, as far as I know. No staff members have disappeared, so I assume nobody has been caught red-handed. Lets hope the dirty tea-leaf has been sensible enough to end their evil ways.

Statement of Intent…

Posted in Thoughts with tags , , , on March 4, 2006 by Bjorn Grainger

(This blog was originally written on Myspace)

Wow, my very first blog. My first opportunity to inflict my views on an unsuspecting public. It’s my intention to fuck up the mainstream with my radical views on homeopathy, Tony (Lionel) Blairs won’t know what hit him! And my incisive, cutting remarks on George Dubya’s domestic and foreign policy will leave his presidential legacy in tatters (though, he seems to be doing a good enough job of that all by himself)!

So, let us unite! Let’s change this world for the better! Let us start now. Join with me.


On second thoughts, this whole changing the world business seems awfully hard work, and i am incredibly lazy. Best leave it to those people who get up earliest in the morning.

So, yeah, this is my first blog. I haven’t had the ol’ webbernet long and i can’t say i’ve read too many blogs either, so i don’t know what the majority of people use them for, mainly to express a thought or an opinion, I’d imagine. That’s what you’re going to get from me, my own public diary.

Ah, diaries. Where, as a youth, you kept all those terrible secrets like your first big crush on Sally Dee* of class 7J, or those confusing feelings you had for sporty manly man boy George Emm*. A time of embarrassing night time emissions, and the guilty pleasure of finding, through gentle exploration, those emissions could be made at any time of the day or night! Great times.

(*names have been changed to protect MY identity)

I kept a diary when i was younger. Aboot when i was 14/15, i think. I still have it, hidden in a folder with a load of nonsensical ideas I’ve had over the years. My diary was nothing like i described before, it was more a log of my daily events. What was i thinking? That 10 years down the line I’d be desperate to know what the score of my favourite sports team was, or how funny Have I Got News For You was that week? Flicking through it now, it appears i only ever displayed any kind of feelings when writing aboot a videogame tournament i was in with a group of my friends! I must of been an emotionally distant child.

So, that was my first blog. Was it as good for you as it was for me? I do hope it wasn’t a crushing disappointment. Nobody needs that. It leaves you with dysfunctions. Or so I’ve been told…

Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings. If it was to your taste, i hope to update on a (semi)regular basis, so please feel free to pop in and have a look if you’re surfing by. Heck, in the more than likely event that nobody reads this, it was just good to write down and have my thoughts documented somewhere, not just let them float away into the ethereal, um, ether.

(Hence “thoughts arrive like butterflies” as my little quote/header type thingy! Geddit? This is all planned, you know. None of it’s by accident)

Y’all be good now.