Germany FTW

I've made an arrogant bet of £10.00 on Germany to beat Spain tonight in the Euro 2008. Obviously as seen by my recent track history of betting this is destined to lose. I'm making a habit of losing so far in 2008 (daily emotional moment...awwwww) Hopefully a win will push me on into the rest of the week...

So far i'm not feeling too depressed about going back into work tomorrow. I get paid on Monday with a nice tasty thousand pounds to my name. My bank balance is moderately healthy and happy but i know at any moment could be raped dramatically. But that's another story which i won't tell you about for now.

So far i'm still torn between what to buy. A new wide screen tv? That'd be nice. But i'd need an aerial in my room. Big wide screen tvs arent designed for a rubbish little portable aerial on top of it...what with it not having a top to place it on...

Or do I buy a playstation 3? Wasting time playing it online would probably help slow down my need to go out continously. But for how long? Would it provide me fun for about a month before I'd get bored of it and return to sitting on the computer pestering people to join me at a pub/bar...anywhere really.

Can anything quell my need to get out and about these days though? If I had the chance i'd be out every single bloody night. What does that make me? Mad man? Raging alcoholic (i didnt say i'd drink every night) or...I don't know. But enough about me going on about myself all the time in these silly posts.

I know everyone is fascinated with the mental make up of yours truly (because you all love me and follow my life intently) but i'm even starting to bore myself so i'll shut up and instead move onto something a lot more interesting.

Stuart Miles is gay.

Yes i know this is indeed the least stunning information ever to greet anyone but still he's actually now come out of the broom cupboard and admitted this. In a way it's disappointed me. He was always mysterious like that now he's spoiled the surprise. Yes you knew father christmas never existed (how could he go to all the houses in one night- no one fell for the bullshit timezone reasons) but it was the romanticism of it all that intrigued children into wanting to believe. The same with Miles. We all knew he was beyond camp but the idea that we all knew this 'secret' made us all feel so special.

By the way if you don't know who stuart miles is...well you need to be put down like a raging dirty dog. Stuart Miles was a presenter in Blue Peter. He represented my childhood as much as Andi Peters.

Surprisingly both are gay. I wonder what that says about my childhood.




But Stuart ruined the mystique of his sexuality with this world shattering statement

"I've never made any secret of my sexuality. Sexual frustration can be a powerful thing. I should know after five years on Blue Peter, where you're expected to be like Action Man - smooth all over with no genitals."

We all knew Stuart but why do this? Why go from blue peter to gaydar radio? I thought that no matter how mad my life gets or how screwed over it becomes i could always rely on knowing that Stuart Miles was there. He was smooth all over with no genitals but we all knew he was gay. He's ruined it now.

Life is corrupted.

Things I should have done a while ago

Finally the weekend and it goes as quickly as it comes. Already way through and so far all i've done is get extremely drunk. No change there then. Last night was pretty good watching the smart shirt tuesdays in southport. Double vodka and coke being £2.60 was also pretty damn nice.

I can't remember the exact moment I got drunk or if it was really a combination of high spirits and relief at finally having a full weekend to enjoy. Whatever it was though led to a fine night and an equally fine burger upon my return home.

The lads did very well. All the other bands seemed horribly generic. Sort of "look at me i can play generic band music on my guitar". The smart shirts were different. A good different. I've never liked that type of music (being an old school pop music fan) but even i was tapping to two particular songs. It wasn't even the fake 'look at me i'm tapping my foot and making an effort' foot tap. It was the 'i didnt even know i was tapping my foot' foot tap. Very similar to the 'i didn't mean to grab your arse' hand grab or the 'it just happens sometimes if it's cold' crotch movement. Never mind...

(The lads weren't too impressed with Rooney's suggestion to be included in revised band line up or new band name of El Rooney and the lovely assosicates)

I've never wanted to be part of a band myself. It looks cool to be able to play a musical instrument and having the appeal of drunk teen girls seems to be a plus point too. I always wanted to be an entertainer however. In a way i've achieved this goal. Though I don't entertain the world masses on tv or film or the written world I do achieve the small circle of my friends with my drunken hijinx.


Last night it was running off with Ken drunkenly after far too many double vodkas (actually about 3) and running into a honda formula 1 car and a showbiz party. I don't know exactly what was going but it seemed to be some very swanky posh function going on. The sight of me running around outside taking pictures of myself sitting on their full model f1 car probably spoiled the sight a lot. I certainly got a lot of angry looks from the tuxuedo wearing gentry inside.

As you might have been able to tell the suit jacket was back. Yes it might not look pretty and it might look stupid with jeans but this jacket has been through a lot with me. A drunken purchase with armstrong at asda in the early hours of a wednesday morning (this was also the night where unemployed armstrong with very little money in his pocket spent a tenner on the GOAL movie dvd) the suit jacket rose in reputation as i paraded it every night out in town. Much to the disgust of will and my ex who claimed it 'didn't go with anything'.

Well i'm single now...it's my civic duty to enjoy my freedom by once again bringing the suit jacket out of retirement and leading more wacky adventures in the asda rejected half price suit jacket. It's not only my duty. It's my destiny!

Tonight it's kens and i'm charging up my camera as we speak for some drunken movies. If armstrong turns up it'll be two episodes of fantastico football. Whilst i'm at it the sound of some drunken movies sounds fun too. What better way to spend a weekend than with pleasant company, fine drink and making low budget crappy movies with loved ones? I personally can't think of much better activities.

Tomorrow i'm planning on releasing something to the internet I should have done a while ago. But i won't spoil the surprise. By not spoiling it also means if i don't do it i won't lose face.

Until later my friends,

The RoonMeister
The R Is for Revealing

OLD ENTRY!: Why are women all so fucking desperate for love

Written a month before I ironically got together with someone for 2 years. This portrays my feelings on the whole subject of love before and probably after that period...what a bitter young man I was...
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May 2006


You know what's the most annoying feature of having so many random women on ones MSN list? The amount of bullshit one person can take in terms of MSN names. The question of tonights is. Why do women need to shove their love down everyones throat?

This isn't trying to be bitter or angry at the world (for once) even if i could achieve 'love' i really wouldn't want it. One could argue that point with me for a bit because of the fact i've never 'experienced' it. But i'm the Roonmeister with a woman tied to me (if i could get one) i'd need to be

"well jesse lets go out thursday! and saturday my house for dinner! yeah! and sunday night we can go to a quiz!! yeah me and you alone. Trying to make conversation! Oh wait we'll be brilliant at that! or at least we won't mention the awkwardness at making conversation, we'll just pretend we're in love and then dump each other after a few years of trying to accept the shit!"

Without sounding bitter but i've seen the bullshit for a number of years now so I know how the bullshit works. Boyfriends and girlfriends who are dating one another from 18 years of age until the age of 23 or 24 NEVER FUCKING WORK. It's too long an age to be together in a meaningless age. From 23 odd years age you get into an 18 month long relationship and end up married to the 'probably homosexual character'.

Anyone who marries someone they met at 17 or 18 usually ends up divorced or separated at 22. "oooh hate to blow any illusions there dumbass"

Now i could be wrong (shock horror- sometimes i am. I know one particular couple who could do the impossible but apart from that no one I know could do it as they're all faulted) but i'm mostly right. You know what annoys me the most though?

Stupid women who are so desperate for any fucking love off a guy they sell their entire soul off to anyone! And that includes showing how much they're in love to someone via an MSN FUCKING NAME. The saddest and worst offence possible! As shown by below.



How desperate do you want to appear? Seriously. Let's be honest the guys using you for sex because he's about 18/19 years has mentioned the word 'love' about 2 times and because you have massive self confidence issues (as no one has ever said they love you before) you have desperately clawed at the word love. You will do anything it takes for someone to say it to your face

That includes appearing to everyone online/all your other friends as the most desperate/saddest and most pathetic human being ON THE FACE OF THE ENTIRE PLANET.

Well done. You've just been ROON-HUMILIATED.

Women damn. So desperate they become such easy targets to attack!

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My thoughts on love now are probably a little less controversial. Do i believe in the concept? I don't know. I think the majority of people who are in relationships are in probably for the wrong reasons.

1) For convenience (i.e they don't want to be alone)
2) They don't want to be alone
3) They desperately want to be love/love someone no matter who.

Now before you starting thinking i'm just trying to be controversal this certainly doesn't reflect what happened with me nor do i want anyone to see it as being like that at all. I just think a lot of people are like this. Which is why once they get someone to 'love' they suddenly disappear and kid themselves its going to last forever. Some do. Most don't. So Julie whilst you might think you'll be with Ian forever don't forget to call Sarah once in a while...it might be useful in the long run...

Akman first goal

Greetings fans. Happier times here what with euro 2008 returning to our screens and a hefty five quid on it being a draw between germany vs turkey at 90 minutes. one can only hope eh?

I'm heading to the pub in 10 minutes so this is going to be as quick as possible. Never a problem with me...hohoh. Anyway here we are midweek and the weekend is approaching fastly. i've booked friday afternoon off flexy too. I won't get it but still...the potential to get the hell out of there nice and early is definitely there.

No other news at all to report. Still living in a rather bizarre world where I remain the same but everyone else around plays different characters and different storylines. Like a hollywood movie actor who plays a Jesus in one movie and then a serial killer in the next movie. Read into that as much as you wish. Meow!

Anyway i'll quit the weird cryptic language whilst i'm ahead. Instead i'll post a funny rant from my previous website which i rediscovered a few minutes ago. My writing was so clever and witty back then...i suppose it's like riding a bike though i'll click back into place in a couple of weeks time. Here's hoping.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

I survived the 2 days of working and drinking. But barely...after getting out of work and being id'd on a ship I lurched into quiet drinking until a helpful toliet attendant refreshed me with some aftershave and I carried on my drinking mission bumping into steph from big brother before finally succumbing to tiredness.

As ridiculous as the above recap is it's actually very true. As absurd as my life is at times it sometimes does even surprise me.

I went to work yesterday on the back of 4 hours sleep but thankfully not hungover which turned out to be a small miracle due to the day absolutely dragging. I even managed to grab some flexy at the end of the day (basically extending my day and banking time I can use a later date) which had to be a pretty stupid but brave decision.

After getting out of work i was pretty excited about the night ahead. A few drinks on board a boat where matt was playing. What could really go wrong?

Firstly, this might sound a bit stupid but i'm counting it because this is my website and i can count whatever i want, my mcdonalds dinner was absolutely crap. Priorities David priorities. But still absolutely cack. I'll tell you why. I hate huge scally famillies. It's like they can't stop breeding. What's wrong with contraception? Not cool? Personally I think condoms are cooler than the other side of the pillow and make great subsitute balloons.

In McDonalds at the front of the queue I saw a very large fat scally woman with something written on the napkin. Behind me a rabble of charging overweight kids chasing around the restaurants. Suddenly I made the connection. This fat woman was the mother of this tribe and the napkin had the food order.

My heart sank...suddenly fast food became slow laboured food where I stood in a queue waiting 10 minutes for the fat mother to place her order. How hard is to ask for 7 happy meals. Pretty hard for this woman who kept stopping herself constantly and shouting to one of her bastard kids to "shut up or i'll get ya dad to batter her then we get in". What didnt help me anymore was the fact the people behind the till were beyond crap at their jobs. A dead decaying fox could have shown more wisdom. And the food was crap when i did get it.

But enough about mcdonalds and scally families.

Lets progress on a bit further into the night. Matt's band were playing on a boat moored in the albert dock so I met up with will, dave and martin for what should have been a lovely night for drinks, fine boats and perhaps beautiful desperate women. I should have clicked onto what would have happened after seeing some 15 year old "boys" who were queuing to get in start to vomit and collapse after probably only a few sips from a can of cider. Perhaps the people who own the boat and the bar inside who host numerous gigs which attract many wild teenagers may have some rules in place to protect themselves from police spot checks for underage drinkers.

They did.

The whole "anyone over 18 needs to show ID to get the magic ribbon on their arm in order to drink" was a policy i didn't see coming but probably in my blind ignorance i should have.

My policy on ID is i don't carry it. My ex used to shout at me for being ignorant about this but personally my belief is at the age of 22 years old if i'm going to be id'd by a place i'd rather not drink there.

Whilst i probably could have scammed many drinks the whole being thrown out for not having said magic ribbon and being 22 years old made me decide probably it would be better to hightail the boat and head into town to meet up with Pete and army. Euro 2008 was a good subsitute and enough to keep my spirits high.

Unfortunately it was at this point in the night that tiredness set in and the realisation that I felt incredibly dirty. You see I had a bath 8pm Friday night. That was 24 hours ago and I'd already been on another night out during this time. Why didnt i grab a bath earlier this morning? But then i remembered why. I wanted the extra sleep...i.e i'm a lazy bastard. So i feel horrible at this point and my mood sinks lower than my pants during a night out.

Thankfully a trip to the toliet and a meeting with the toliet man helped out. You know the guy who sits in the corner of a toliet with a silver tray expecting money to dry your hands. I gave the bloke 3 quid (because i was drunk and felt someone for him as someone had just abused him...). I thought the rule would be if i gave money i'd get some aftershave...no i didnt he just nodded at me. I felt humiliated. This man had the potential to save my night he just needed to stop being a cock tease with his aftershave. I had to be the man and step up and ask.

"Some squirty squirty" I enquired in a rather filthy tone looking back.

As the words left my mouth the man looked up at me smiling

"Calvin Klein"

With that I was energized and smelling better. He even squirted my crotch which is probably the closest someone has come to that area in a long time....

I was boosted at this point which eventually led to us going to heebie jeebies and my meeting with steph from big brother. You know the one who got evicted first. The blonde girl. Yeah the blonde scouser with little intelligent. Nice girl.

She was reportedly sighted and obviously being a drunk wanker i had to get a picture with her. Her team of "minders" which consisted of about 3 blokes who looked about 20 and an old man wearing glasses and carrying an umbrella blocked my path. He rejected my kind offer of "picture with big brother girl". But then seemed to pity me.

"Only if its more than 2 people"

Army!

I charged at poor armstrong and pushed into the middle of the group of people. Facing this z list celebrity i did what anyone did. I tried to play her ego. I knew at this point i was the bigger star than her (well come on!) and after stating she did 'really well' in big brother (height of bullshit lies) I managed to convince her to get a picture. But only if her friend was on the picture. I think maybe to stop me selling the picture to zoo magazine and pretending i was dating her? Hasn't she ever heard of cropping pictures? And the fact that I'm asexual. Plants and animals have more attraction for me. Well not really but you get the idea...



My night ended with me being incredibly drunk and stupid a mixture of drink and tiredness. Thankfully kev mc was feeling tired too and rescued me to leave me with pained and exhausted memories of a bingeful weekend.



One has to love cameras they capture the essence of every night...

Self abuse or comical drinker?

Over the next 30 hours I should be drinking for a total of 14 hours. Not particularly healthy and wise but I must do what is required of The RoonMeister. I must step up to the plate and put on a show for all to remember...

"Ho Ho"

At the moment i'm feeling quite good. An hour and 20 minute sleep before has set me up for the abuse about to take place. I'm hoping to be back about 3am tonight. Which will mean a 5 hour sleep. Not very good. But not dreadful. Let's just hope i don't stupidly turn the computer on as I always seem to do whenever I get in.

After work tomorrow i'm straight back out for yet more drinking. The only downside is i didn't get to play football this weekend. Mainly due to the fact that my sleep last night was so destroyed by late night phone calls i realised the need for a power nap was essential otherwise it would mean i would die sometime tomorrow...

I also have a sneaky feeling this weekend could be memorable. I don't really know why or how it could be...but i'm usually correct with these hunches. Maybe its the simmering back story to my life which could suddenly explode in a glittering mess of bullshit and drama. Who really knows. Perhaps i'm thinking too much into things. Perhaps this entry has been pointless and merely pushed people into thinking

"He thinks too much this is boring"

Perhaps this is true too...

Much love rooney maniacs,

Your master and eternal lover.

Binge drink session 2008

So here we go on what should be a very interesting weekend of hangovers, work and booze fests. Today has been a special night! A lovely day off from work has been spent in the company of Armstrong where we watched Germany triumph against the evil portugal bastards. 12.60 has been won from Mr. Paddy Power. Triumph!

Now i must dash to bed. I'm sadly back to work at 8am tomorrow morning. Ahead of me is a day in work followed by 3 hours at home and back out again for a friday night on the piss up. Unfortunately for me saturday is my one saturday in 8 i have to work. I cannot however miss this glorious night...instead i must as the song says search for the hero inside myself. Have 4 hours sleep and head into work...

and after that...

Go straight from work on the piss yet again for another night out saturday....followed by a recovery day on sunday and then back into work monday till friday. The rest is over now comes the many drinks and many days in work.

I'm not complaining. I love ye olde drinks.

Goodnight all.

God bless The Germany and Das Kaptain.

The abuse of one's body clock.

You've just literally caught me having woken up so I feel still half asleep or as i like to call it 'stunned' where you can still literally talk a large amount of bollocks and not realise. The only reason i'm boring you with talk about me waking up, which mirrors the world of "blogs" out there which i despise that discuss how lickle lucy fancies desperate scally daniel, is due to the length of my sleep.

Now ever since I started full time employment in October i've been trying to push the envelope a little bit more each week. I feared the start of a full time job would mean

- Less nights out
- Less drinking
- Less fun
- The vigidity of working 8-4:30 and back home for a dinner and a glass of cocoa

This would not do. For 3 months I bought this and accepted my destiny as that of a boring old mature member of society. In March I finally resisted.

Ever since then my sleep patterns have been probably more irregular than...a pregnant woman's period? But they don't have periods? I think the sleep has affected my brain a bit too much there that my sick twisted innuendos are malfunctioning.

Anyway back to the story ever since then I've been living on 3 to 4 hour sleeps every night and often going out on Tuesday and Thursday night with Paul 'It's easier to get me out than it is to sleep with a low class hooker' Armstrong (Promise Paul drinks, food and football- he'll even admit to this himself). I've been fine with the lack of sleep too except for the headaches around 9pm the following night.

Last night though sleep caught up with me and made me it's bitch. I was fast asleep by the time Russia Vs Sweden started (6 quid win thanks to Mr. Paddy Power- Back of the net) and only woke up around 10am.

I wake up to find an invite to go to the pub which i would have gone to. Gutted. What a waste of my final night away from work. Now I need to find something useful to do today. I've sent a helpful text to see if anyone wants to spend the day in Blackpool for day trip supreme but so far it appears about as likely as...Michael Jacksons face?

So after a 14 hour sleep and the prospect of lying about all day I bid you adieu. I hope your days in work are fun and happy.

Where were we again?

Greetings all once again to the crazed existence of David Rooney or if you prefer (and not many of you do) call me The RoonMeister...or the less Rooney approved "bit of a knob".

I don't really know why i've started writing on the internet again. Maybe its because today i've got spare time on my hands because i'm off work. If so this is as about as doomed as HMS Titanic and will crash and burn as quickly as it started...but maybe just maybe it will bring out my creative flow once again and let me entertain or bore those with nothing better to do on the internet (and after the endless flow of low grade pornography and the constant tagging of photos on facebook there isnt much else to do).

Due to the fact everyone who reads this will inevitably already know me I don't feel the need to introduce myself to you all. But then again i am egotistical to consider myself worthy of an introduction to people who already know me well. I prefer "honest" to egotistical however. Just like i prefer when to then. But you'll soon get onto that.

As seen by the very dull "about me" section I couldn't really think of anything very witty. I wanted some immense descriptions of me which potrayed a legendary mythical man. I also wanted to try and create a division between David Rooney the person and the cool party king The RoonMeister. But I realised that a division doesn't really exist they are one of the other. David likes to drink as much as The RoonMeister likes to sleep. I've suddenly realised at this point that even people who already know me will begin to be creeped out by me acting just a little too bizarre so let's drop that immediately and move onto more pressing matters, such as the state of affairs in 2008.

If 2008 was going to be a football team it'd inevitably be Sunderland in 2004 or perhaps the Cape Verde Islands "soccer" national side. If 2008 was going to be a type of food it'd be bile and the vomit remains of last nights burger. Or finally if the year was to represent a place it'd be town during the half term holidays with miles of "cheeky" "boisterous" scamps running around with little to no parental support and the parents which are with their kids are those drug induced "my sons just letting off a little steam" shitbags.

Basically the year hasn't been too pleasant...

Toasting the year on 31st December with Will at Rob's house party. Everything seemed lovely and the potential for a damn good year. Finally I had money and a full time job rolling in. Happy filled care free days ahead....life was one weekend induced drink fest. Until 6 hours after midnight....

(I wouldn't be smiling David....it's all about to go royally tits up)

I'm smack bang in the hospital with my Dad who's collapsed. Welcome to the year 2008 the theme of the year is I get smacked down continous by a bitchy year and stagger slowly to my feet for the next bitch slap. The year which turned everything upside down again and then kicked it a little for good measure.

Not that i'm being overly dramatic or anything...

But yeah me and the year don't get on very well. I think she's sleeping with 2002 if you ask me. What slags.

I could go into much more detail about my Dad's health and the many other problems i've had this year but to do so would make me go down the road of self pity. It's not very good place to be nor very nice to read. It'd be one of those self pitying rants which make you shuffle in your seat and wonder why you opened this massacre of self pity by clicking on the link. However if you would like to read the words of self pitying David I have some lovely pages from my "book" (which people like to call my diary for some bizarre reasons) from 2002 where self pitying depressed David is all over the show.

Basically this website will not be filled with self pity or anguish. Maybe a bit of deep thought. But mainly a positive spin on bad news. Mainly what politicians do however. Am I continously positive person? Nope but I put on a fine good act at times better than any wooden hollywood actor. And as the old saying says the show must go on...

Just realised I didn't want to end any first entry on such a cheesy overused line. That's not Rooney like at all. So let's just draw line over everything in the past and move on and let the force be with us.

Ah fuck.