An Ode To MySpace

An Ode To MySpace

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MySpace is actually still going. It’s limping along like a 3-legged dog who thinks it’s a sleek black panther – but of course to all of us bloggers it died many years ago.

At it’s peak it was truly awesome. Almost everyone there used an alias, and so it was a natural thing to spill your secrets and confessions on there – and could be very theraputic because of that, too!

When it was all dying, and we all gave up the fight to stay away from Facebook, the will to stay in contact with those we’d shared our MySpace life with meant breaking down all those walls and letting the few trusted ones see who we really were on there.

In Real Life.

Of course, many of us had already met each other by that time – but even then it was weird to suddenly be able to see their friends, family, and their bizarre/mundane lives away from their MySpace masks!

I used my Nasty Evil Ninja account to post stuff that was really close to the bone – rants mixed with real life drama, and I didn’t hold much back at all! It’s no secret that a lot of my Sex Blog Thursday posts (remember THAT?!?) were about or featured real life people!

Don’t ask which ones were real – I’m still not going to tell you that!

Often on Facebook the talk drifts back to how it used to be on MySpace, and so I thought I’d like to share a few of the outstanding memories with you.

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Friends

Before they were called ‘friends’. Were they ‘contacts’ or something? I remember being in someone’s Top 8 list meant something special!

I made a lot of friends from other bloggers, or people who read and commented on my blog, and a good few of them are still in contact today!

Some I’ve met in person either at the time or after MySpace died, and there are still some I’m yet to meet.

The awesome thing here was the overseas people – not just from the US and Canada but from Croatia and Holland and St Thomas and Australia… And many from the UK who I’m sure I’d have never met through any other medium!

A few of those have had drama, and some seem to have fallen off, but for the most part those I’m still in contact with have flourished since those days, and it’s great to see!

Drama

It’s what we were there for! Some people got hit hard by life, and I’m sure MySpace helped them through it. The funny thing is that it was quite rare people would be nasty to you on there – unless you got some fued going with them (or you’re a female who doesn’t swoon over cock pics).

I had a rocky stage in my life on there. All got documented from relationships breaking up, to falling in love…

At one point I lost my business, split up with someone big-time (The Police got involved and called me in to try and shut my blogs down!), and someone stole the one thing I had left – my bike – and I was in a pretty bad place.

Miraculously, someone who commented on my blogs offered to lend me enough cash to buy and insure a new bike to get myself back on my feet. I didn’t think she was in any position to do this as a single mother, and she’d never met me before in person, and didn’t even know where I lived. The first time we ever met was when she handed me a wad of cash with nothing but a promise that I’d pay her back as soon as I could. No strings attached – no more expectations, nothing. I’m still not sure if she just took a risk or was an excellent judge of character (and yes, I did pay her back!). She knows who she is and I’m eternally grateful!

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Fame

Some of the other top bloggers made it! They now get paid to blog and stuff, and that’s brilliant! I think Perez Hilton started out blogging on MySpace? Not that he was in my Top 8, but he’s probably the leading example of where some of us went. Some of the more arty types are now selling their work, and that’s great to see!

Me? Well, after millions of views on MySpace I switched to this blog to try and keep things going – but that’s never really taken off. Nobody is exactly beating off… err, I mean, beating MY DOOR DOWN for my erotic writing, or inane ramblings. And that’s ok.

I did make the switch to YouTube where I currently have approaching 3 million views of my bike videos, and you may have noticed I have a little car racing hobby that’s made me fairly well-known in some circles. The ‘fortune’ certainly hasn’t come, yet, though!

Hilarious stuff

Remember Farmer Vincent’s Fritters? Or Abe and his ongoing wilderness battles with Nagatha? There were more I’d love reading just to make me laugh. Some of those guys were just amazing, and I’ve got no idea what happened to them! Apart form Abe – he’s still around the place!

You’ll notice I haven’t used many of the MySpace names in this blog – and the main reason for that is I can’t remember what all of them were! There are also a few who want to be distanced from all that. Some I now know only by their real name and can’t even remember what they called themselves on MySpace!

Actually, screw it – let’s have a crack at the names I can remember. I’m sure I’ll miss some really obvious ones who are right in front of me on Facebook:

Slinky, Foxxxy, Solaris, Wolfshades, Albino Cockroach, Zanna, Bruce, Abi, Manda, Helen, Buddha Mama, Boo Boo Kitty-fuck, Loree, Sweets, Darren Dragon, Salacious Bee, Tamar (Diary of something?), Emz, Helly, Sassy Little Secret, Saz, Julian (Mr.. ??). The Girl, Debz, Soo, Isabel, Bea, Abe, Tits McGee, A Giraffe, Tom, unnngh there are so many profile pics I can see in my mind but can’t remember their screen name!

Feel free to post up any more names you remember, miss, I’ve missed, or your MySpace memories! And if you were there put your name and feel free to add me if we’ve lost touch for the last 10 years!

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Complaint to Shell fuels

Complaint to Shell fuels

Dear Shell,

Your attendant refused to switch the pump on for me last night at your Northfield, Birmingham forecourt.

I ride a motorcycle, and have spent 17 years filling up whilst sat on the bike, so that I can safely see what I’m doing and fill the tank to the maximum safe level.

The attendant said that she was new, and had been told not to allow bikers to fill unless they dismount. I got back on my bike and rode off to fill up at the next available forecourt, with no issues.

I stayed calm and polite, despite the humiliation of having your staff member gesturing wildly at me (I thought she might be signalling “Intentional Grounding” but then realised she wasn’t an American Football referee) for a while, before I had to walk into the shop to enquire what the issue was.

I can only think of two possible reasons why I may have been refused:

  • Theft. Shell assumes all bikers are thieves who will run off with the small amount of petrol a bike can hold. Apparently the 2 seconds it takes to get back on a bike makes a major difference to this?
  • Safety. After 17 years of filling up without turning into a fireball, admittedly this COULD be the one time I set myself on fire somehow. Again, I’m not sure what major difference there is when it takes me less than 1 second (note this is quicker than getting on the bike) to dismount whilst my leathers and helmet are engulfed in a chemical blaze. Please also note that the ‘safety’ option makes even less sense when you consider that after I’ve filled my tank to the brim, I will then be climbing on top of it, resting my torso on the tank, and starting the engine in a series of controlled explosions to power me away from the Shell forecourt.

Could you explain why this is, if this is even policy?

Also, what can you do to compensate me so that I feel welcome using your fuels (and I will always pick Shell over the competition) in the future?

Yours faithfully,

Nasty Evil Ninja

The New ‘Crap Bike’ – Yamaha FZR600R

The New ‘Crap Bike’ – Yamaha FZR600R

After around 6 years of service, the GPZ500, or as I fondly refer to it, The Crap Bike is being retired.

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It’s rideable and fixable, but after new front wheel, head bearings, welding to repair the exhaust, wheel bearings, and many more hours work, it will still be just an old slightly less-crap bike.

So I decided it was time to upgrade.

I looked at what I could get for as little as possible that would do for a commuter – not even considering something a bit fun this time (apart from a CBR600F that tempted me…). It was CB500 and EN500 city, with a slim chance of snagging an SV650 to join my V-Twin stable.

Then a friend with some unfortunate circumstances offered me his bike. I dismissed it instantly, as I knew he’d done loads to it, and didn’t think he’d appreciate me killing it through the Winter.

I was wrong, and he gave a good price – and so here is my new, sensible commuter (which I’m not sure I can call ‘The Crap Bike’):

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Ooh yes! My very first bike was a blue and white Yamaha TZR, so this was going back to my roots!

I picked the bike up, realising that this would be the first time I’ve ever ridden a 600cc bike on the road, the rest being on track, and pootled it home to see what I’d bought.

It wasn’t running great, possibly needing a carb balance, but I was happy with the deal in whatever state, and you can’t buy a 19 year old bike and expect it to not have any issues. And it had been stood for a good while.

Other than not wanting to pull away or rev at the top end, the low-down grunt was ok. It felt much lighter and flickable than I’d expected, and with those combined it was already seeming like a good commuter.

It felt old, and with the speedo showing up to 180mph, it seemed the bike was barely moving as I was doing around 60mph – I thought that might be a bit of an effect of using such a small portion of the speedo, as a really good one may get just over 150mph back in the day.

The front brake isn’t as sharp as I’d like, but I can put R600 calipers on and sort that out, and tyres are all good.

I took it out for a blast the next day to see if I could blow the cobwebs off, stopping off for a few pics as I tried to get lost down country lanes as I got a feel of the bike.

After about 25 miles I headed back towards home, having given it beans and not scared myself. But then, after the VTR ripping my arms out on the throttle, what could I expect from a tiny old 600?

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Then I accidentally over-revved it and it was like flicking a switch!

The sound changed as all four cylinders suddenly woke up. I got back on the power and hooooly poop!

The front lifted as the race can snarled out its true potential, and I revved out the first few gears to see what it had got.

It’s got more than I thought!

The exhaust note was now reminding me of the 600 track bikes I’d been on, hitting that sweet spot at about 13,000rpm where it’s like a drill being rammed into your eardrum.

I was suddenly approaching the corners “quite a bit” faster, and now KNOW I need to sort out the front brakes.

It also means a track day might be back on the cards!

Who was it who told me 600’s were crap on the roads? And that old bikes are slow and heavy?

I think this little old FZR600R could make me fall in love with Yamaha again!

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David Cameron – What CAN we do??

David Cameron – What CAN we do??

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All over my news feed this morning is stuff about our Prime Minister who’s family have been dodging taxes for generations.

Of course, that’s after you get around the deflection by the press, who are trying to make me feel angry that some pointless Russian kid called Putin is doing the same! So fucking what? He can do whatever the fuck he wants to, as long as he’s not living on my street!

But Cameron, who also voiced his outrage at Jimmy Carr for being “morally wrong” in his tax avoidance a while back, appears to be doing exactly the same.

I honestly can’t even be arsed to point out how and where this is all so wrong.

You know.

They know.

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And you all know of my utter contempt for politics because they’re not there for us. They never will be until we pay the lot of them minimum wage… Ok, some work hard – let’s cap their maximum wage at £25,000 to be fair.

But I digress. We all know that we need to do something about it.

But what CAN we do?

Wait another 4 years until we can try and vote the fat cunts out to be replaced by more fat cunts who are also only in it for themselves? Ooh – that’ll scare them!

We can refuse to, err… buy stuff? Err… err…

Yeah, that’s right – we can’t do a fucking thing about it. Suck it up, losers!

So I’m just going to have this rant, and then I’ll go back to work hard to earn money so that I can afford to live in a house that I’m never actually IN, because I’m at fucking WORK!!!

What. The. Fuck?

And then I look at the ‘Top News Stories’ and what do I see about all this??

Loch Ness Monster, Caroline Flack (?? Is that Nessie’s real identity??), and Britney ‘fucking’ Spears. Because we don’t want to give a shit about anything important, do we?

Maybe I should just write an angry letter?

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Return of the Duck Face

Return of the Duck Face

Wow.

It’s been a while since I actually wrote a full-on ranty blog. It’s not because I haven’t had anything to rant about – more because I couldn’t be arsed, and am happy to see the daily views ticking over from you pervs reading my erotic stories.

Anyway, sneaking a look over someone’s shoulder earlier today, I was pleased to discover them flicking through a few pics of a rather good looking Facebook friend.

Or she WOULD have been good-looking, except every picture looked like this:

My initial thought was “What in the blue-waffled FK are you doing???”

Had I stumbled onto the promotional manager for the new Zoolander film, trying shit out??

Maybe I was witnessing a rare cancer of the lips, or someone who’d had some kind of -ing accident with an airtight sandwich grill??

No – it seems that the duck face/trout pout trend is still going strong.

A quick look through some other peoples pics showed more of the same.

Now, I know I’m not up with current trends and fashions, so maybe I should give the benefit of the doubt here?

Are there people out there who do find this look attractive??

There must be some reason why women do this in the first place?  I mean, you looked great until you started doing that crazy shit with your mouth!  And I don’t mean THAT crazy shit…

Are you looking at your selfie (with obligatory toilet, Anal Glide or abandoned toddler in the background), and actually seeing something else through your poor, slack (to hide the wrinkles) eyes?

Just SMILE, you knobs!

Maybe I should also categorise this blog under ‘erotica’ so you duck-billed wankers can jerk off to that, too?

Auto Aid – the best breakdown cover

Auto Aid – the best breakdown cover

The big names like RAC and AA take all the limelight for breakdown cover.

Without a doubt, they are good – but they’re also very expensive.  Even if you think you’re getting a good deal having cover free from your bank etc, the chances are you don’t actually have the cover you want or need.

A basic policy can be had for £60 that doesn’t include (what should be) essentials such as home start, and, more importantly, most of these will cover only a specific car, or you as a driver, until you start paying £200-£300 per year for a service you may never even use!

But even then, what  if you own cars and bikes, and want them both to be covered when you’re riding?

It still amazes me that so few people have even heard of Auto Aid.

You pay £40 per year, and that covers YOU as a driver or passenger in any vehicle.  And you get home start, forward travel, and pretty much everything you need.

So what’s the catch?

Well, assuming you are unlucky, and actually have to use the service you’re paying £40 per year for, you have to pay for any roadside repair or recovery out of your own pocket – but don’t panic!  All you do then is send Auto Aid your invoice, and they will reimburse you the full amount in about a week.

I was a little dubious about this aspect, but assuming you have a credit card, it won’t be a problem.

Having held a policy for years, I actually had to use it for the first time a few months ago – and I had to test exactly the dodgy stuff that you’d be worried they would refuse to reimburse you for.

Basically, the brand new Honda VTR1000 that I bought minutes before broke it’s drive chain on my way home with the bike.  So on all the DVLA systems I was not even owner of this bike, although I had taken out insurance (not that they ever asked – as the policy covers me as a person!).

I rang up at around 10pm, and they got a local contractor (exactly the same as some of the more expensive companies) to come out to me within about 40 minutes.

With no hassle at all, they loaded up my bike and took me and the bike home, as all the garages were closed at that time of night.

I paid their flat fee of £50 for a journey of about 20 miles by card over the telephone.

Now for the dodgy part – I had to get the bike from my house to a garage the following evening (again outside of working hours), and the person on the telephone had advised me to just call them again, and they would send someone out to collect the bike and take me there.

Again, no hassles – I paid by phone another £50, and they took me where I wanted.

Still nervous, I posted the invoices and receipts (keeping a copy just in case) back to Auto Aid with their simple claim form, and exactly as promised, they refunded the entire amount to me!

I’m not making anything from this, I’m just doing my good deed of the day by letting you know of a brilliant and much cheaper alternative.

You’d be crazy to sign up to anything else!

NHS Complaint to Bromsgrove MIU

NHS Complaint to Bromsgrove MIU

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The online feedback form I left on the NHS website should pretty much explain this one.

My answer to the question before, “What could be done to improve your visit for next time?” was: Get the nurse to wind her neck in.

“How likely would you be to recommend our service to friends and family?”

Very unlikely.

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“Please tell us why you gave that answer?”

Oh, ok then… *takes a deep breath*

I was told to go to x-ray and MIU by my GP with a suspected wrist/scaphoid injury following a racing car crash a week ago, where my open wheeled car had collided with another car, torquing my hands around with the steering wheel (and launching me 3ft in the air before another heavy landing, if you want all the exciting details).

The x-rays thankfully showed no fractures, and I dutifully booked in to MIU as advised. I do not like hospitals or doctors, hence me having waited a week in considerable pain from my injuries, but was extremely pleasant to all staff, especially after the x-ray as I was happy that nothing was broken. I am aware this pleasantness and cheery attitude may have been interpreted to mean I was not in pain – when in fact I would have rated my pain on this visit at a 7/10.

The student nurse who saw me very quickly advised as it was a soft tissue injury there was likely nothing more that they could do as the preferred method is not to strap up such injuries. This was absolutely fine with me, as was the quite long subsequent wait as she went to seek advice from a nurse. The wait was also fine, as I was by no means a priority case and fully understood others needed staff attention.

A blue uniformed nurse then returned to me pushing a trolley load of attitude before her, making her impatience with me extremely clear as she asked me – yes ME – why I was there. Somewhat confused by this, I told her the GP had told me I should go to MIU after my x-ray. She snapped on about x-ray being the ones who would refer me to MIU – which may well be the case, but I don’t see how I’d become the naughty schoolboy?

After answering “I don’t know?” when she asked what they were supposed to do, she then dug her thumbs into what I believe is known as the ‘snuff box’ area of my wrist.

I’m not sure how she then managed not to notice my hissed intake of breath through bared teeth, but declared instantly that I wasn’t in any pain (Really?? I’d have rated that a good strong 9, thank you very much!!!) before stroppily lecturing me that I would need a serious bone deficiency to have any chance of a scaphoid injury in that type of incident.

If I wasn’t so shocked by this whole damning onslaught, I would have corrected her that it is, in fact, one of the most common injuries of open wheel racing drivers in exactly this type of incident, but still trying to hold onto my relief I thanked her (not even sarcastically, because I’m apparently too polite a person for such hateful interactions!), and left.

Having been very worried when my GP advised scaphoid injuries could cause major complications such as necrosis, I realised I should have been more willing to seek medical advice sooner – but after meeting Blue Nurse from MIU, I’m back to thinking I’d be better off with a staple gun, duct tape, and staying away from corrosive moody people to solve my medical needs.

I am actually sorry for wasting your time, as if I’d known there was no after care I’d have just gone back to work sooner. But I don’t know that – and I feel that it’s the job of Blue Nurse and her ilk to advise me. Nicely.

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