Nothing but heaven itself is better than a friend who is really a friend. Plautus
272. COMPLETE THE 100 SNAPSHOT CHALLENGE (80.Meeting)
Ruin Mikey's Life
When you're ruining your life, leave nothing to chance.
78. Adopt a worm
I’m not really a fan of worms. Don’t get me wrong, I can happily argue until you are blue about the virtues of the humble worm and the sterling work that they do in maintaining the ecosystem. Furthermore I can vividly recall a rather fetching diorama that I produced back in my fledgling years at primary school that informed anybody and everybody who saw it that the worm was “OUR FRIEND” and also “A FRIEND TO NATURE”. In addition to that, as a Yorkshireman I am obligated to respect the worm as it can be found referenced many a time in our national anthem.
Beautiful. Beautiful man. Anyway, where was I? Worms? right.
Despite all these things, It’s just, I don’t know. Essentially:
Worms are a bit too icky for my liking.
So for the past few decades I’m managed to get along without interfering with the everyday lives of worms. I don’t bother them, they don’t bother me. It’s as simple as that. Therefore the idea of me adopting a worm, filled me with a stomach turning dread. Do I have to have it in the house? I seemed to recall American television while I grew up showing Worm Farms that you could buy to care for your worm in. This would essentially mean that I would have a foot of dirt, plastered between two pieces of glass somewhere in my house with a worm wriggling though it. Now ignoring my aforementioned belief that worms are a bit icky, doesn’t that seem cruel to you? A small amount of dirt, squeezed between two pieces of glass?
No, there had to be another way.
Fortunately Gina came to my rescue with the following suggestion. I could adopt somebody else’s worm! Essentially I could pay for the upkeep of a worm to ensure it continues in it’s wormy ways and to maintain it in the lifestyle that it has grown accustomed to. I’m not exactly sure what lifestyle a worm is accustomed to, but I’m happy not to press the point if it means not having a real life dirt and worm sandwich in my house. Gina even furnished me with a direction to look in for my worm adoption.
This small child obviously doesn't think worms are icky! Poor deluded child
Now they had an Adopt a Worm drive in 2011, but have not had one in 2012, but I’ve checked the website and they still have a wormery, so it looks like they still need our help. According to the site ”We’ve got hundreds of hard-working worms in our gardens waiting for you to make them feel loved. It’s so easy to adopt one (or hundreds) of nature’s unsung heroes this Valentine’s Day. Worms are the world’s hardest workers but we never tell them how much we care. Well now we can. You can sponsor a worm for just £5, a pregnant worm for £25, a wormery for £50 or a worm farmer (who need love too!) for £100.”
Now, ignoring the fact that the writer of the above quoter more than very likely certifiable and focusing on the charm they obviously possess, this means I need to donate a £5 to the charity to ensure a worm in their wormery is adopted and looked after. I go to their Local Giving Website and make the necessary payments, click Gift Aid and ensure that on the donation form that my money goes towards the adoption of a worm.
In short order I get the following mesage:
Dear Mikey,
Thank you very much for your donation on Localgiving.com!
Your contribution will make a real difference to Global Generation. We hope you’ll share a link to Localgiving.com with your friends and neighbours so they can see how donations like yours help local charities to grow.
Many thanks,
The Localgiving.com Team
Awww, I’ve adopted a worm. I have asked Global Generations if my worm can be called Neville.
I wonder if I get visitation rights.
272. COMPLETE THE 100 SNAPSHOT CHALLENGE (1.SAFETY)
The secret of life is to have no fear; it's the only way to function. Stokely Carmichael
This is Whimsy the Ferret. The day we got him. For some reason he felt comfortable enough to sleep in the hands of Piers, despite the unfamiliar surroundings.
272. COMPLETE THE 100 SNAPSHOT CHALLENGE (7. Love)
Some people have a great capacity for love. Some people let it slip through their fingers.
272. COMPLETE THE 100 SNAPSHOT CHALLENGE (73.Rust)
"It is better to rust out than wear out." Edwin Markham
98. Eat 50 eggs in half an hour
This challenge is inspired by the 1967 film Cool Hand Luke where the main character, played by Paul Newman, bets that he can eat 50 hard boiled eggs in an hour. You should watch the film, it’s a classic, so I’m not going to give the game away, however despite the movie outcome, TV scientists have in times past said that it is an impossible challenge to complete. This made me extra nervous that we would only have half the time Paul Newman had to complete the same task. Anyway, here’s my attempt to eat 50 eggs in half an hour.
66. Bake a cake
“Learning to bake perfectly,” Marguerite Pattern, the author of the 1962 book 500 Recipes For Families tells us, “is something anyone can learn with a little care and patience.”
500 Recipes for Families
“Even if you have had no experience in baking,” she continues, confidence oozing from her words, “if you follow my tips for easy baking to the letter, you should have no difficulty in making any one of the delicious cakes in this chapter – where it is a simple sponge or one of the more elaborate gâteaux.”
I knew I was in safe hands, Ms Pattern, the famed author of such titles as 500 Recipies for Slimmers, 500 Recipes for Fish Dishes and 500 Main Meals was guiding me step by step through the baking of anything from a simple sponge to one of the more elaborate gâteaux!1. I simply could not fail! I could almost taste the cake already. I believe they call it synaesthesia, I’m trying not to worry about it.
Grabbing my coat and a hastily scrawled shopping list and scurried off to the local supermarket to collect my ingredients.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the English supermarket at three thirty on a Sunday afternoon, but if you never had, then please consider the next paragraph a friendly warning. As I arrived I could almost taste the frustrated urgency of the shoppers as it got closer and closer to closing time. Those of you who are not aware from Britain will probably not realise that Britain has a very Christian view on shopping. In recent years things have improved and the shops have been able to open briefly on Sundays, but not for long! Even 24 hour supermarkets have to close at 4pm on a Sunday afternoon. It’s something to do with the moral fibre of the country or that shops open at 6pm on a Sunday makes Jesus cry, or something. Honestly I’m not entirely sure, but suffice to say as I walked through the revolving doors to the local supermarket, shoppers strode around me with barely repressed anger, fixed expressions of annoyance fixed on their faces, daring the supermarket staff to even consider closing the shop whilst rushed to get an urgent can of kitty-chow whilst glancing at their fellow consumers as if they were specifically there to try and stop them from achieving their goas.
Mildly concerned at the state of society and beginning to think I needed to update my zombie survival bag, I quickly collected the munitions I needed, following Ms. Pattern’s instructions to the letter.
It was then I noticed a problem.
“Wait a minute” I loudly announced, causing irate shoppers to twitch and stare at me menacingly “this recipe is in ounces and all these ingredients are in grams.”
Soon I would make a mess
I admit it, I panicked. I didn’t have time to go home for the phone that I thought I’d left somewhere in the kitchen (but was unbeknownst to me, sitting in my jacket pocket) so that I could Google the weight conversions. So I did the only thing I could considering the circumstances.
I guessed.
I think I may have bought enough for about six chocolate cakes and as I left the shop, I ruminated that with luck at least one of the cakes I make would turn out presentable and tasty.
The recipe itself was pretty simple. All I needed to do was mix together the butter and sugar, fold in raw egg. Make a mess of the kitchen with melted chocolate, accidentally eat half the chocolate I melted, make some more, pour the two together, fold like I’ve never folded before and stick in the oven. Simple! A child could do it! Sadly there we not children available so I had to do it myself2.
I’ll be honest, I don’t think I followed the recipe to the letter. It was such a simple recipe that I might have got a little too cocky and I’ll admit somewhat sheepishly that I double guessed Ms. Pattern and reasoned that more chocolate was a vast improvement on less chocolate.
Thankfully the whole thing was captured on film.
Sir Mixalot
Here's one I prepared earlier
Brown goodness
The finished product!
Doesn’t that look lovely? You can almost taste the delicious moistness. Sadly I couldn’t. This, and I say this to pander to the interweb folks out there who get excited by the hilarity of memes, Cake is a lie. Although it is definitely a cake and I did definitely bake it. Don’t get me wrong; if challenge 66. was “Do not bake a crap cake”, I would certainly be in trouble but as the challenge said nothing of the quality of the cake I was supposed to make, I think I’ll be okay. The cake itself was all right. It was a bit stodgy, a little bit too firm and I’m glad I put too much chocolate in it to at least make it taste nice. It did by the way, it tasted lovely and I had two pieces.
I did not however have three pieces and the pigeons around our neck of the woods walked everywhere for a week.
So there we go, I have baked a cake.
1 – Not that I wanted to make elaborate gâteaux or anything else that could potentially be a character from Asterix for that matter.
2 – Joke courtesy of the estate of Groucho Marx
61. Collect as many souls as you can
When I was at college I was a bit of a whimsical chap, my jinks were frequent and invariably high and I spent a goodly amount of effort on procrastination and pointlessness. It was not time wasted as it has made me the man I am today. Okay, okay, it was arguably not time wasted, but to paraphrase the philosopher, Wolverine “I’m the best there is at what I do. But what I do best isn’t very… productive” - procrastination was a calling, it was an art form to us and we did it well and with flare and style.
It was during this time and in one of our plethora of countless and pointless discussions that I (and my like minded wastrels) fell upon the concept of the nature and value of the immortal soul. Essentially, we decided as we ruminated over theology 101, depending on your viewpoint the soul is either worthless or priceless; two words what are often synonymous but had very different connotations. We felt pretty clever about that as I recall. What can I say? I wore a lot of black and had a predilection for Vampires. I was an idiot, worst yet – I was an idiot with intellectual pretensions. If the improbably occurs and I do actually turn out to be a Timelord, the first thing I’m planning to do is go back in time and slap that kid.
But I digress, where was I? Oh yes, either the soul is an immortal record of your moral fibre that will either tip you into either eternal glorification or eternal damnation.
Or it isn’t.
Naturally I wondered if people would actually sell me their souls. I mean, you just do and frankly, if the soul was priceless it would be good to have a spare; just in case. I’m not the religious type, but I suspect that an arrangement could be made by slipping the heavenly bouncers a bit of gratitude. I certainly suspect that’s how it works.
It was essentially an intellectual exercise. I was curious to know how much value people attributed to the soul and if I could convince people to part with it for worldly and mortal gain. I didn’t expect to get interest as any rational person should keep hold of their soul, just on the off chance that it turns out to be worth something. Even if they think the soul is a meaningless and fanciful concept, there is no way of proving what happens after death, so why take the risk? I was sure therefore that both the religious and the scientific alike would keep hold of their soul and treat it like a retirement fund. It might come in handy later on, you just don’t know.
By the end of the first week, I’d managed to acquire 13 of them. I was as shocked as you are. Even more shocking was the price. Payment for souls was varied, but the most I paid for a single soul was a two litre bottle of cola. It wasn’t even good cola! Students eh?
I decided that I was going to stop at 13 as it had a bit of a ominous ring to it and made the story sound better. I envisaged that they’d make a movie out of this tale of wheeler dealing and the script (I imagined) would really need a really solid number to aim for to sell it to be big executives. Sadly, in what I can only describe as a tragedy, I rarely go to the pub with Hollywood movie executives and the movie was never made.
Time passed and a few years later, I feeling guilty that I owned so many people’s souls, so I contacted the owners of the souls I owned and rescinded arrangement. It felt good. Despite being sure that the pieces of paper I had were worthless, it still felt wrong hanging on to them. About five years after that, one of the people I’d bought a soul from, sadly passed away. I cannot deny that I wasn’t somewhat relieved that I’d nullified the contract.
Anyway, these means I currently I have no souls apart from the one I started with. So if you’d like to sell me your soul, please place a comment below with your demands. I of course, will consider them fanciful and am unlikely to concede to them, but all offers are considered.
G’wan, I dare you. I would appreciate you explained what you wanted and what condition you considered your soul to be in, so I can consider your offer.
41. Buy somebody something nice and have it sent to him or her via e-bay. Make sure that somebody doesn’t know who sent it.
My problem with this challenge is that if I do a full write up on here, then it becomes increasingly likely that the somebody I bought the something nice for will know who sent it; ruining the challenge. Therefore, I have no choice but to resort to the cunning use of pseudonyms, double-speak and vagaries to protect my identity. I don’t necessarily need to give myself a code name, but for the purposes of this challenge, if you could hum the James Bond theme whilst reading this, I’d be grateful. Actually to hell with it, code names are cool, I think I need a rugged pseudonym that suggests I would fit easily into a Tom Clancy novel, I would therefore appreciate it if you would call me Mike Ruin; rugged huh?
I obviously can’t confirm too much informationhere, who knows who’s listening, but I’ll try to explain as best as I can. What I divulge is that some time in the past at an inspecific location I bought something nice for somebody from eBay. To throw off electronic tracing devices, I watched Goldeneye before using eBay and bought the item in question on an eBay application on my mobile whilst standing next to a working washing machine. Whilst this may not have helped, I figured that it would not harm.
The item in question went directly to person in question’s address and was deemed to be a well thought out present specifically chosen with the receiver in mind. It cost a reasonable but unspecific amount but I can confirm it cost less than £20 but more than £10. I might believe I got a bargain, but I cannot verify that.
My network of informants tell me that the item arrived recently as I had contact from the recipient accusing me of sending it. Naturally I avowed all knowledge of the parcel, however I’m not sure how much I was believed; which is a shame as I’m sure that I was particularly convincing. I briefly considered that my cover was blown but could not find cyanide tablets on eBay, so had limited options.
I am told that the recipient was very pleased with the gift and whilst I am suspected of sending it, the recipient has no proof that it came from me and I believe I’ve got away with it.
The mission was a success!
I can report a warm feeling from achieving this challenge and whilst I cannot confirm that it is better to give that to receive, it is rather nice to give.
Mike Ruin Out!
232. Do the Manchester Run
Way back in 2006 I went to watch the lovely Gemma, the one person on the planet who is lumbered with the title of “my best friend”, perform in a play in Wales. As a friend of the cast, I found myself at the theatre a good three hours before the curtain with nothing to do other than drink coffee in the commissary whilst those around me beavered away in furious Thespian activity.
It was in the commissary that I met Les. Les was the grandfather of one of the players, and like me, had been shoved out of the way in a coffee themed corner whilst the cast and crew got on with the real business of having dreadful realisations about what vital piece of costume or equipment they had forgotten to bring with them. As we were the only people in the eatery we ended up chatting and for a few hours sat together drinking coffee, eating cake and talking about everything and nothing.
I was utterly enthralled by Les. Sharp as a tack, funny and engaging; he has a well thought out and interesting opinion on any topic you could name. We talked about life, politics, history, religion, sport and everything in between swapping tales of tragedy and woe, excitement and glory as the play was formed around us.
I have to admit, despite enjoying the play, the highlight of the evening for me was sitting chatting to Les and discussing all of the finer things that life had to offer. It was in those few hours Les convinced me to do the Manchester Run as Les had done it the previous year and finishing in an amazing 47 minutes. Positive that I had found a friend, I agreed to join him in the 2006 run and vowed to let him know my running number so that we could start the race together. I had no illusions that Les would finish before me, but I promised him that I would do my best to make it around the course in as close to 47 minutes as I couple possibly make it.
Les passed away three days after I met him and despite only meeting him less than a week before, I attended the funeral of this quite remarkable man and was truly saddened by his passing.
I did the Manchester Run on the 21st of May 2006, finishing in 58 minutes (just in front of a guy dressed in a Scooby-Doo costume), despite pushing myself to my limits, I simply could not make it round in a time that Les would be proud of and therefore vowed to try again. Sadly I moved away from Manchester a few months later but was back in Manchester by 2010 and fillt intended to make it round the course in less than 50 minutes. I had no illusion that I would not be able to beat Les, but 50 minutes seemed achievable. It was not. I managed the course in 53 minutes 19 second. I tried again in 2011 I managed to finish the course in 55 minutes 42 seconds, worse that I managed in 2010. I had booked to run the 2012 race and was once again aiming to finish the run in less than 47 minutes. However this year the 2012 race is on the same weekend as the second Victoriana Event. So I’m looking for another 10km race I can do, hopefully with a guy running who’s dressed like Scooby-Doo.
