January is a busy time in Quizland as I have to review every quiz that is live i.e. that had been sold, or offered for sale; and potentially update any question that has gone out of date during 2014.
On the positive side, this had given me the opportunity to reword a shitload (technical term) of questions based on the feedback gained at The Green Dragon*. However, for every Yin there is a Yang, and it’s also meant that I’ve had to re-research every bloody presenter of Loose Women during the last 12 months. It’s true that some people really suffer for their art!
I’ve also followed The Seven Year Bitch’s* advice and stopped being such a tight-fisted bastard. So, I’ve upgraded the shopping cart software on the PPQ website, which has given me the chance to offer some more of my themed quizzes for sale. Now, I’ve written what I consider to be a bloody good Australia Day quiz, and I’ve also uploaded on the Valentine’s Day quiz (maybe slightly too early) AND a Six Nations themed quiz to boot. However, not a sniff at a sale from all of these combined. I also chucked on my St Andrew’s Day quiz, cleverly rebranded as a ‘Burns Night Quiz’ at the last minute.
Now Burns Night, to me, is an opportunity to indulge in some decent single malt whisky, and to fondly remember a night me and Cpt. America* spent in Glasgow. This wasn’t the night we went for a drink with some guys from work and a mate of theirs – a mate who turned out to be a pre-famous and terminally unfunny Frankie Boyle, but a night we were really late for whatever evening entertainment we had planned due to our hotel window facing the EuroHostel. Without putting to finer point on it, it turned out that Easter European female students don’t bother too much with curtains and it was like watching live porn on 20 different channels simultaneously. I’ll raise a glass of Laphroaig to that memory this January 25th. Well, I would if I hadn’t given up alcohol until February!
Anyhow, who’d have thunk that people would have brought a Burns Night quiz? Not me, but it turns out I’m selling them by the bucket load to, of all places, Middle England. Perhaps these people stop in the wrong Glasgow hotel and need to recreate an entirely different Scottish experience to accompany their malt of choice.
Cpt. America had also recently commented on my singleton status, and asked if I was seeing 7YB – apparently because I’d mentioned her in recent blogs, he thought I was subtly introducing a new relationship. Firstly, he’s known me long enough to know I’m not subtle, and secondly that’s just all kind of wrong. While I do like 7YB (in an entirely non-romantic way), if I did have any designs in that direction, I’m not too stupid to realise that she’d not only have me for breakfast, but would spend the rest of the day chewing on the bones, just to make a point.
Weirdly, 7YB is also one of the people keeping tabs on my love life. And, yes, I did follow her advice and sign up for a dating site that was not populated by the terminally desperate / lowest common denominator just because it’s free.
I would like to announce that, after less than a month back ‘in the game’, I’m now both knee-deep in klunge and beating them off with a shitty stick. I’d like to announce that … but I can’t because it’s not true.
I have been in contact with two women though. The first one told me was that she hated her kids, and was looking for someone to run away to Cornwall with, as an opening gambit! I would have beat a hasty retreat but she must have guessed from my tone that this wasn’t quite my idea of a fun first date. There was suddenly some ‘family emergency’ and she had to call me back. Technically I’m still waiting, crying myself to sleep every night that she doesn’t call.
I have also been in contact with PrincessDiva69, who messaged me her phone number at 8:30 one morning; giving me strict instructions to make a note of this NOW as she was about to delete her account (due to being contacted by weirdos) and to phone her later. So I did, once I’d got back home from work. It seems that I totally misunderstood her directions because, as she’d been forced to wait a whole working day for my call, she’d got pissed off and blocked my number! I consider that a lucky escape – if I’d ever made it round to her place it’ll probably smell of boiling bunny.
This week I also needed to pop into a popular high street dispensing chemist, the one named after some footwear, to get some lens wipes for my glasses. While in there, and for future reference, I noted the cost of a pack of johnnies (how 1970s am I?) It’s clear to see why there is a teenage pregnancy crisis in this country. It’s also a good job that I’m not getting any – I’d be bloody bankrupt after a good night with a bad woman.
Penzance* is of the opinion that I’m being too fussy in my choice of potential dates. Apparently my rule of not contacting anyone whose profile picture consists of their kids or dogs (just their kids or dogs, not the poyential datee with said children or animals) is weird. I’ve been informed that I should be more tolerant of people whose lives are dominated by their offspring (or pseudo-offspring) to the point where it defines them absolutely. Tolerant I can be, voluntarily spending time with them I won’t.
Penzance has also asked me if I saw the profile of someone who was out of my league, would I still contact them (she wouldn’t). Of course I would, otherwise how would I ever go on a date with anyone?
My benchmark has been set at Lucy:
if a potential date looks better than that, I won’t bother … otherwise I’ll keep you all posted.
Finally, this week saw the first quiz event of the year – the Coventry Grand Prix. En-route I was accosted by a couple of leaflet wielding God botherers. They very nicely informed me that He had all the answers. Unfortunately, after further interrogation, it turns out that He couldn’t provide them to me as it would be classed as cheating. As such I was on my own. 70th out of 90+ in the room (no Eggheads – still filming, but two Chasers) and mid 40s as a score in the World Ranking Quiz is about par for me. If only He’d been more forthcoming …
There was one thing that quite impressed me about the whole day though. When I registered for the quiz (circa 11am) I also put my name down on a sheet of paper as someone who may possibly be interested in appearing on Only Connect. By 2pm the producers had matched me with similar waifs and strays and I’d had my audition – none of this filling out application forms with witty anecdotes and hoping your what they want malarkey (although when they asked you to describe yourself in three words, I did put ‘face for radio’). I’m with two guys from Halifax and a working team name of The Lowbrows (we all do Lowbrow … and most probably Löwenbräu). If we get any further I’m probably embargoed from talking about it, so I’ll let you know on that as well – eventually.
*see Cast List