Today marks two years since I started ‘Wait! What? Sorry.’ So I just wanted to say thank-you.

This past year has been a year of high highs and low lows for me. And yet through it all I have managed a weekly post. During my lowest lows that was an achievement.

During my highs I had no idea the lows would come, but now as the lows begin to fade the highs are something I treasure more.

Very few of my endeavours make it to two years. But ‘Wait! What? Sorry.’ has, and I look forward to continuing the random journey through my mind with you.

thank-you

I support FC Internazionale Milano, but I have a huge problem when I watch their matches live. They can’t win!

Inter have (so far) played ten competitive games this season (2016/2017). I have watched half of them live. In those five matches Inter have lost four and drawn one.

When I watch Inter play live they don’t win. But I love my team and want to watch their games live when I can. How can I choose?

At the moment you’re probably thinking “It makes no difference whether you watch the games or not.” Let me assure you it does. In the games I haven’t watched Inter have three wins, a draw and a loss. Further pointing to the fact that it’s all my fault.

Inter have a key Europa League match on later this week. I will be watching live. I will decide whether I should watch further live matches based on the result.

I’ve been writing for ‘Wait! What? Sorry.’ for almost two years now, and it’s scary!

Every Tuesday I need to think of something to write about! What happens if I wake up and I have a complete mental blank and can’t think of anything to write about!

I have a list of ideas on my phone to use if I ever get stuck. But what if I lose that on the day I get writer’s block!

I always title my blogs with a question. What happens if I’ve suddenly asked every single question in the world…

Actually, that’s quite good. What if there was a world where no one asked a question? What would that look like? I could write a movie about that.

I’ve been thinking for awhile now, and I think it’s time I should move on.

I’ll always remember the way we got together, that first call, the texts, the time we saw that mud and all the laughs we shared. I will always treasure them.

You’ve taught me so much. Patiently we worked through our problems, and we overcame them. But I feel that all these problems are just becoming burdens that won’t go away. I can’t do it anymore.

It honestly has nothing to do with your looks. You have a bit more bulk than others, and you aren’t sporty or fast. But while most don’t see your beauty, I do, and I love it.

When I say it’s you please don’t take any offence. Smartphones have bounded ahead in the last few years and I think it’s time I started looking for a new phone.

Sorry.

Recently I had a dream…

I was playing football. I was playing at right back which is not where I normally play, usually I play centrally. But in this dream I was playing right back.

I noticed that I only made four passes over and over during the match. The first is backwards, either to the centre-back or goalkeeper. The second pass is into midfield. The third pass is up the line to the winger. The final pass is a cross into the box.

My dream made me realise that in an attacking sense the right-back only needs to make four passes. There is a lot more to being a right-back, but perfecting these four passes will make you a decent right-back.

“Hello Sir. My name is Frank and I collect strange and extremely rare ornaments. I’m in the neighbourhood collecting ornaments to display in lounge rooms, kitchens, bedrooms and bathrooms. Well, actually one day I hope they’ll be displayed in a museum.
“I’m here today to ask if you or anyone you know has an ornament that they’ll allow me to put in my growing collection?”
“Sure, I might have something. What kind of ornaments are you looking for?”
“Human heads. I collect human heads, only from willing participants of course. And also some people who thought my guillotine didn’t work when I was at the Country Fair.”
“Wait! What? Sorry. You kill people just so you can put their heads on display?”
“Yeah, if they’re still attached to their bodies they’re so hard to mount. Now, if you want I can bring over my guillotine tomorrow, but I really don’t like carrying it around. So if you come to me I’ll separate you at my place. What time of day can I expect you?”

Today a fly decided to land on my thumb. He was friendly, so we got chatting and he told me his story.

His name is Francis C. Bradley. He was born in my house, inside my garbage bin. Unfortunately he grew up without a family. Francis’ parents were crushed just after he was born.

Francis grew up without his family, but the Carlson’s stepped in to provide Francis food, shelter and education. He said he’s extremely grateful to the Carlson family, the C in his name is to honour them.

The Carlson’s had a daughter, Maddison. Growing up Francis saw her as a sister, but as they grew older they became romantically drawn to each other. Maddison was amazing, and judging from the way Francis talked about her you knew they were in love.

As Francis continued to talk of Maddison he broke into tears. Not long ago Maddison was flying home when she was captured. The absence was killing them both. Francis told me that only a human could set her free.

Francis and I rushed to Maddison. She was under an upside down cup. I gently grabbed the cup and let Francis in so I could take them both to a safe place for release.

A few hours ago I released Francis C. Bradley and Maddison Carlson out into the wild where they can live their lives together in peace.

It has been a long day. All you want to do is get home to your apartment where you and your dog, Spot, live. Your job never seems to end, you seem to be at work 24/7, leaving no time for a social life.

When you open your door two things strike you as odd, the smell of fresh pizza and the absence of Spot who normally meets you at the door. You also hear the sound of chopping in the kitchen.

You slowly enter the kitchen. Standing at the bench chopping tomato is a guy dressed in white and wearing a chefs hat. You don’t know this guy and there are red stains everywhere. On the table are bowls of ham, salami, pineapple, cheese and some unidentifiable meat.

In a deep menacing voice the unknown guy in the kitchen asks, “What do you want on your pizza?”

A good friend of mine has written a piece for Wait! What? Sorry. He has his own blog, which I love. If you like what you read today you should check it out. And if you don’t like what you read you should still go and check it out, so click here.

GOTTA CATCH ‘EM ALL

I caught a Pidgey on the toilet today. I never play Pokemon Go on the toilet, but the app was on and the Pidge was there. It was looking at me. It wasn’t weird.

I find that my days are happily filled with my phone out ready to catch the next Rattata or Oddish or Kangaskhan, if it ever shows up. I like to do this by myself or while someone is blah blah blahing at me about something or other.

Has Pokemon Go made me an uncaring, unlistening jerk? The answer is obviously no.

I think the onus is on the people trying to blah at me, they should pick their blah time better.

A perfect time is when I’m trying to grind up Pidgey to turn into candies so I can level up, or when my battery is five per cent or lower and Pokemon Go shuts down. Then I have no choice but to listen to their blah.

So in conclusion, I need a better battery.

As I hang off the edge of this cliff, my mind flashbacks to the terrible events leading to my imminent death.

It all started that morning when I got out of bed. It seemed just like every other day. I ate cereal for breakfast, fed my dog, got dressed, put the lead on my dog, opened the door and started our daily walk.

Samson is my five year old Golden Retriever. He and I are inseparable. He was a gift from my fiancee five years ago, and for seven months it’s just been us. I know Samson misses her just as much as I do. It was the worst day of our lives when we heard of Mary’s accident. I wish I knew what Samson felt. Maybe then we could talk with each other about Mary, instead Samson just listens while I cry on the stairs. Samson is the only thing I have in this world, and our morning walks keep us going… just.

Today I decided to take Samson to the cliffs. I don’t why I decided to come to the cliffs today, usually we go to the park. But the cliffs were Mary’s favourite spot, and I always feel like she’s right next to me again when I come here. It’s a special spot for us. I proposed here. That afternoon we had a picnic out here and I proposed as we watched the sunset. She said yes. That was six years ago, and since then we returned with Samson almost every weekend. Mary loved watching Samson chase the seagulls as they came for our chips.

There are seagulls here today, I can still hear them flying around me. Earlier Samson was chasing them even though he never caught one. I let him chase to his hearts content. That cheered me up a little, but soon I thought of Mary and tears came to my eyes. Samson didn’t notice that I was in tears, just like he didn’t notice the edge of the cliff. It all happened so quickly, Samson fell and I raced over. Amazingly he landed on a ledge a metre below the edge. He stood still in terror. Without thinking I lowered myself onto the ledge. But it couldn’t take my weight. The ledge collapsed. I grabbed hold of the cliff edge, but Samson had no chance. The complete terror in his bark as he fell to his death is the most horrific thing I’ve heard in my life.

And that brings me here, hanging off this cliff knowing that Mary and Samson are gone. Right now both of them are up there, and all I can do is let go and fall into their arms…