Standby for transmission

I’m eating my three year old daughters chewable vitamins. I’m going through sugar withdrawal something fierce and the pantry cupboard, at this present intersection on the time/space continuum, is the dietary version of the Atacama Desert for anything even vaguely sucrose related.

This is as close as I can get to happiness right now. They’re soft… and have a vaguely gummy bearish consistency. Although practically there may be a finite number of these I can pour into my mouth before I start running the serious risk of vacating my bowels (at some point in the not too distant future) in a violent, hot and foamy manner. My sphincter puckers at the probability, a clarion call to perhaps insert a modicum of moderation into my binge eating of these age inappropriate placebos. (I’m one of those people that are skeptical of the benefits associated with imbibing a daily multi-vitamin)

It’s another wild Saturday night in the domicile of the Jo. In olden times this was likely the point where I would (take twenty minutes to) lace up my Doc Martins and maybe find a clean(ish) black t-shirt, with imprinted ironic cajolery, before sallying out in search of girls, of an indie-rock persuasion, with whom to exchange saliva. And maybe trample (or get trampled) in a rousing rendition of Nellie the elephant. Either circumstance would have suited me just fine and would have likely been pencilled in as a win.


Didn’t have to worry about smashing your iPhone back then. Your Nokia 3310 was hard as nails. These days it’s reading Roald Dahl to my daughter and then, post slumbering toddler, halfheartedly perusing Netflix… until giving up and deciding to blog instead. (While your basset hound snores loudly on the sofa next to you)

How the mighty have… reclined. And become more monogamous about the bodily fluids they will impart onto the abdomen of another. Circumstances have certainly progressed. I’m not sure I miss it though. You should likely attack each phase of your existence with a certain level of gusto and then move on. As a rule (for life*) you should never loiter on a level you’ve already cleared, not when there is still so much more game to be played.

*See Jordan Peterson, I can make up arbitrary pronouncements too. Ha ha. Although my book will only have ten rules. I don’t think you should ever have more rules for life than you have fingers (that you can then bunch up into fists). The complete guide to Fundamental Joeyism, available soon. (okay, probably not soon, or even ever)

We now return back to our regular scheduled programming.

Some pretty serious accusations

In an endeavor that would spark joy with the adherents of Marie Kondo I’ve been cleaning out my desk drawer. Its already relatively spartan, I am not naturally a hoarder (at least this is what I tell myself). In any event, part of this weekend project was a flash-drive/SD card purge… a virtual cornucopia of digitalism that I’d been stockpiling in a tin.

One of these, as it turns out, was not homemade pornography… but rather a folder of sentimental trifles from 2008. A collection of Livejournal (yeah kids before your time I know) entries saved as word documents (made for REALLY cringeworthy reading… and some Google chat logs… one of which made me laugh out loud.

My girlfriend, Mia, telling me exactly what she thought (of me)

Joey and Mia [1].JPG

Mia: yeah
i have a mans personality
and you have a womans personality
you’re neat
i’m messy
you want a nest

Mia: i don’t give a shit
you’re all insecure
i’m an arrogant fuck

Jo: ha ha
Oh my god. You’re right! 
You are a man!

Mia: you eat right and take care of your body
i’m a slob

Mia: you cook gourmet meals

Mia: i cook mi goreng
in the microwave

Mia: i smoke and drink
you never use to smoke and drink

Jo: Like the James song?  ‘Messed around with Gender roles’.

Mia: AND
i go to sleep after sex
you read a book
and i go to sleep

Jo: Ha ha

Mia: read a book whilst watching me sleep and waiting to go again
cause i’m spent

Jo: These are some pretty serious accusations.

Mia: AND
i listen to death metal
and you listen to christina and justin timberlake
you use lotion
and i don’t


In my defense… and really I think there’s probably only one thing here I can legitimately take umbrage with… Mia classified anything that wasn’t Opeth and Suicide-Commando as ‘Christina and Justin Timberlake’. Otherwise… thats probably relatively spot-on.

Maybe I should use this as my ‘About’ page?