Hi guys.
So, stag and hen party planning is good craic. Not quite as good as the parties themselves of course, but given the amount of different packages and party activities in cities all across the UK that gobananas has to offer - it will be a long time before I run out of things to write about!
I used to think that the true test of a writer is not the ability to come up with a clever way of saying something, but seven clever ways of saying the same thing. I still maintain that this is a useful skill to have, but I've come across something much much more challenging.
I'm trying to write like a woman.
While attempts to get me into the correct mindset have seen me follow in the footsteps of Mel Gibson in 'What Women Want' and donning all kinds of crazy girl products, I just don't seem to be able to hit the right note. I can't just say "Hehe, lol" at the end of second sentence or so, and sitting around in a g-string and high-heels isn't really all that appropriate at home - let alone in the office!
The truth of the matter is, all the outdoor activities that the guys would go out and do are also available for hen nights and weekends, so I have to try and make it sound interesting for them too. It's difficult not to lead with "put the iron away for the night" or "take the men out of menstruation with a night on the town with the girls". Fact is we have loads of stuff for hens to do, such as burlesque dancing, cocktail making, pole dancing lessons... baking...
I can't help myself. But, we've had an increase in the amount of hens making enquiries about some of the more gritty stuff like Quad Biking, White Water Rafting and Paintballing, so I now need to make all of this stuff sound better for our websites.
"Hen Quad Biking - because in a field there's nothing to reverse into"
"Hen White Water Rafting - we'd rather you were on the rivers than on the roads"
"Hen Paintballing - like you, these guns are made up of highly compressed air"
Ok, so none of that is actually on the websites - but I am starting to struggle to stay on the right side of chauvinism. But the thing is, in this day and age girls are wanting to try all this stuff out anyway, regardless about what's written about them. Compared to last year the number of girls and hen parties booking the likes of Rage Bikes, Clay Pigeon Shooting and Go-Karting is going up all on its own. Girls, it seems, just want to have fun!
I've still some more work to do with the buses for now though, so I think I'll stick to that than trying to delve any further into a woman's psyche and potentially say something offensive.
Especially considering you're all allowed near heavy machinery now, ladies!
Juuuuust kidding ;)
Laterz,
-Kenny
Tuesday 10 August 2010
Thursday 5 August 2010
End of The Honeymoon Period
As I'm sitting here, in the office, doing research on keyword trends for the stag and hen industry - I can't help but feel a brooding anger rise up inside me. I'm having to deal with a whole bag of lies; constant taunts beckoning forth resentment, infuriating me by blatant misrepresentation of facts. It has affected my concentration to the point that I can't help but now sit and glare at a bunch of what are most definitely not 'seedless' grapes.
As much fun as I've had thus far in writing about all the cool things you can do through staghenscotland.com (shameless plug) for your stag or hen night (popular keyword search), it turns out that there's little point in writing articles (such as this) for a website if nobody's ever going to read them. People often use the phrase "Google is your friend", which is all nice for you lot but Google and I are about to fall out.
It is impossible to please everyone, and no matter what you do - somebody's not going to like it. This has never really bothered me before, until I now find myself having to write in a style that's interesting to both potential stag or hen peoples, and a bloody internet search engine. And it's the craziest things too; it searches for things you've got written in bold, the names of the pictures on the page, how many links point to the page from other pages. I tell you, it's quite tedious!
I got introduced to another side of the business this week though - apparently we've recently bought out Club Class Bus. Yeah, I'd never heard of it either. Basically a double-decker bus that's fitted with leather seats and big plasma screens and funky lights - or 'a limousine for the extremely popular'. It sounds pretty cool, and I've been promised a trip on one at some point. There are rumours going round about a staff party in Manchester next month, so that should be alright!
Things are though very much settling down in the office. When I go in, that is... I still get to work from home whenever I want. It's not that I don't like it in the office - the boss has a good taste in music (I work in the headmaster's office, d'oh!) and (I have to be nice because they'll probably read this) the people I work with are all good people. I don't think they're taking me quite as seriously as I'd like though, as they totally disregarded my suggestion for a new bus design:
LOOK AT THAT HANDSOME DEVIL ON THE BUS!
Och, in time good friends! In time...
Laters!
-Kenny
As much fun as I've had thus far in writing about all the cool things you can do through staghenscotland.com (shameless plug) for your stag or hen night (popular keyword search), it turns out that there's little point in writing articles (such as this) for a website if nobody's ever going to read them. People often use the phrase "Google is your friend", which is all nice for you lot but Google and I are about to fall out.
It is impossible to please everyone, and no matter what you do - somebody's not going to like it. This has never really bothered me before, until I now find myself having to write in a style that's interesting to both potential stag or hen peoples, and a bloody internet search engine. And it's the craziest things too; it searches for things you've got written in bold, the names of the pictures on the page, how many links point to the page from other pages. I tell you, it's quite tedious!
I got introduced to another side of the business this week though - apparently we've recently bought out Club Class Bus. Yeah, I'd never heard of it either. Basically a double-decker bus that's fitted with leather seats and big plasma screens and funky lights - or 'a limousine for the extremely popular'. It sounds pretty cool, and I've been promised a trip on one at some point. There are rumours going round about a staff party in Manchester next month, so that should be alright!
Things are though very much settling down in the office. When I go in, that is... I still get to work from home whenever I want. It's not that I don't like it in the office - the boss has a good taste in music (I work in the headmaster's office, d'oh!) and (I have to be nice because they'll probably read this) the people I work with are all good people. I don't think they're taking me quite as seriously as I'd like though, as they totally disregarded my suggestion for a new bus design:
LOOK AT THAT HANDSOME DEVIL ON THE BUS!
Och, in time good friends! In time...
Laters!
-Kenny
Monday 2 August 2010
Interquadding.
Greetings and salutations!
In my last blog (dated last Sunday), I ended with a promise to follow up that blog with a new one the very next day. Whoops.
I'd just come back off of a 3-day stint with the company's sales manager touring Scotland's lesser-known hotspots for stag and hen parties, and was very much caught up in the whole experience. I'd gone out and enjoyed myself immensely, and then got to write a blog and say 'tits' more times than an 80's porn flick. I was very much living the dream...
The Thursday in Inverness however, was far less dreamy!
We'd been to see a few places in Aberdeen in the morning (a surprisingly nice city, even in the daylight!) to do with karting, clay pigeon shooting and paintball. There was even one location that offered 'axe throwing' as an activity. Quick to reassure me; the guy swore blind that axe throwing was in fact one of their safest activities and I had to wonder whether the guy had actually been invited out to a stag weekend before. There are very few of my mates I'd trust to do that when sober - let alone on a stag weekend! Alcohol and projectile weapons - I don't care how blunt the axe is... that's just a bad idea.
Despite falling asleep a dozen times or so in the car - great way to create a first impression by the way - driving around, I actually enjoyed myself on the Thursday. We went to visit some adventure farm just outside of Inverness and the chap that ran the show there seemed to be the nicest guy in the entire world. He introduced me to something he refers to as 'speed paintballing' - imagine normal paintball, but getting shot more. As the name suggests it's faster paced, less places to hide - but you really do get to shoot the shit out of anyone and everyone! You get the same satisfaction from speed paintball in the short time you're playing than you would a full day of normal paintball, but with this you'd have time to do other things as well. Unfortunately, it was the 'other things' that I managed to embarrass myself on...
We got a nice tour of the place; somewhere to eat, somewhere for hens to do pottery and clay painting and stuff (great for creating memorabilia, and there's t-shirt painting if you're wanting to go out in Inverness for the night wearing equally groovy home-made t-shirts), archery, miniquads and bizarrely an exotic pets 'zoo'. And then he offered to show us the quad course. It seemed like such an innocent offer...
Turns out that when he said he'd "show us the course", he meant "take you round it". And by "take you round it", he meant "you're going to have to use a quad bike". Great. I had my nice black jeans on, some smart shoes and a white shirt. I'd spent the day thinking 'Man, if only there was some way I could get myself covered in mud', so imagine my delight when I was handed a helmet and told "You may want to put your feet up when the water gets more than a foot deep". Turns out that Grant (SM) owns his own quad bike and is quite used to taking one of these beasts out for a spin. I, on the other hand, was a total rookie.
There's nothing more reaffirming as a man than to have some other guy have to come across and start your engine for you. And then to select your gear. And then explain the accellerate/brake system. Twice. And then give you a push start. And then have to pull you away from a big mound of dirt you've just crashed into.
All said and done though, I managed not to fall off the entire way round (even if it was the 'beginner' course) and the experience was fantastic. I hardly got covered in any mud at all despite the water being nearly up to my ass at one point in the course, and getting stuck on a couple of occassions. The andrenaline rush was mind blowing and the sheer brilliance of this terrain was breathtaking.
I'm not about to say I'm an instant addict, but I'll definitely try quad biking again at some point when I'm perhaps a little better prepared, and can go round the full course. Or even try a different course. Inverness is a great night out and I can totally see why it's becoming so popular with the stag and hen weekend groups - especially with Aviemore just down the road - but it's a little far to go for an hour quad session when there are so many places closer to Bonnie Dundee I intend to scout!
Until next time!
-Kenny
In my last blog (dated last Sunday), I ended with a promise to follow up that blog with a new one the very next day. Whoops.
I'd just come back off of a 3-day stint with the company's sales manager touring Scotland's lesser-known hotspots for stag and hen parties, and was very much caught up in the whole experience. I'd gone out and enjoyed myself immensely, and then got to write a blog and say 'tits' more times than an 80's porn flick. I was very much living the dream...
The Thursday in Inverness however, was far less dreamy!
We'd been to see a few places in Aberdeen in the morning (a surprisingly nice city, even in the daylight!) to do with karting, clay pigeon shooting and paintball. There was even one location that offered 'axe throwing' as an activity. Quick to reassure me; the guy swore blind that axe throwing was in fact one of their safest activities and I had to wonder whether the guy had actually been invited out to a stag weekend before. There are very few of my mates I'd trust to do that when sober - let alone on a stag weekend! Alcohol and projectile weapons - I don't care how blunt the axe is... that's just a bad idea.
Despite falling asleep a dozen times or so in the car - great way to create a first impression by the way - driving around, I actually enjoyed myself on the Thursday. We went to visit some adventure farm just outside of Inverness and the chap that ran the show there seemed to be the nicest guy in the entire world. He introduced me to something he refers to as 'speed paintballing' - imagine normal paintball, but getting shot more. As the name suggests it's faster paced, less places to hide - but you really do get to shoot the shit out of anyone and everyone! You get the same satisfaction from speed paintball in the short time you're playing than you would a full day of normal paintball, but with this you'd have time to do other things as well. Unfortunately, it was the 'other things' that I managed to embarrass myself on...
We got a nice tour of the place; somewhere to eat, somewhere for hens to do pottery and clay painting and stuff (great for creating memorabilia, and there's t-shirt painting if you're wanting to go out in Inverness for the night wearing equally groovy home-made t-shirts), archery, miniquads and bizarrely an exotic pets 'zoo'. And then he offered to show us the quad course. It seemed like such an innocent offer...
Turns out that when he said he'd "show us the course", he meant "take you round it". And by "take you round it", he meant "you're going to have to use a quad bike". Great. I had my nice black jeans on, some smart shoes and a white shirt. I'd spent the day thinking 'Man, if only there was some way I could get myself covered in mud', so imagine my delight when I was handed a helmet and told "You may want to put your feet up when the water gets more than a foot deep". Turns out that Grant (SM) owns his own quad bike and is quite used to taking one of these beasts out for a spin. I, on the other hand, was a total rookie.
There's nothing more reaffirming as a man than to have some other guy have to come across and start your engine for you. And then to select your gear. And then explain the accellerate/brake system. Twice. And then give you a push start. And then have to pull you away from a big mound of dirt you've just crashed into.
All said and done though, I managed not to fall off the entire way round (even if it was the 'beginner' course) and the experience was fantastic. I hardly got covered in any mud at all despite the water being nearly up to my ass at one point in the course, and getting stuck on a couple of occassions. The andrenaline rush was mind blowing and the sheer brilliance of this terrain was breathtaking.
I'm not about to say I'm an instant addict, but I'll definitely try quad biking again at some point when I'm perhaps a little better prepared, and can go round the full course. Or even try a different course. Inverness is a great night out and I can totally see why it's becoming so popular with the stag and hen weekend groups - especially with Aviemore just down the road - but it's a little far to go for an hour quad session when there are so many places closer to Bonnie Dundee I intend to scout!
Until next time!
-Kenny
Sunday 25 July 2010
A Whole New World
"Wanted: A Writer/Editor For A Company Who Can't Spelll"
That's how it all started. A well-worded job advert, one phone call and one interview later and Bob's your uncle; there I was - gainfully employed in a role I knew nothing about! Apprehensive much? You bet! Hell, I can write - and not just at "I went to school and didn't fail English" level either, so I knew I wasn't going to be totally at a loss. The first week went fine; normally I'd have set a security alarm off, crashed a network, spilt coffee over the boss's laptop (in an effort to kiss ass, ironically) or turned up not realising I'd put my underpants over the top of my trousers. So I guess week two was my reward for going the first without getting sacked...
Wednesday, Week 2, and I'm informed that I "wasn't going to be working in the office today". Instead, I was told to pack an overnight bag as I was being taken out to meet a few suppliers to thrash out some fabby new Stag and Hen package deals around the north of Scotland. The hesitation on my face must have been less than subtle, so the proposition was quickly followed with "we'll probably start by hitting a couple of strip clubs...". Sold!
I'll be honest with you - I'd never been to a strip club before. I had a fair idea of what it would be like - I'd just never been to one in person. The guy I was on this 'tour' with was clearly a seasoned veteran of scouting such facilities (purely on business, I'm assured), so I was determined not to let my poker face fail me again as it had done earlier on in the day. Instead, I was going to play it cool, say as little as possible and escape with my dignity intact to fight another day. All the best plans, as they say...
My colleague, who for the sake of anonymity I'll refer to as 'Grant', greeted this Italian looking bloke who came out of the club to show us in. He seemed like a decent guy; almost charming in fact, and from a certain angle a slimmer version of Marlon Brando in 'The Godfather'. But in my determination not to stare at the girls on show, I wasn't about to stare too hard at this chap either. Instead, I tried to take in everything else around me. First thing I noticed about the interior was how dark it was. I mean, I know it's *tits* not exactly supposed to be bright or anything, but I wasn't expecting it to be that dark. Nor was I expecting there to be that many girls inside. There were only *tits* a few guys in, but there were very few places one could look without some barely dressed girl looking seductively in your direction. 'Stay cool, Kenny', I thought. Grant and the Godfather were talking about some packages *tits* for guys coming in and getting dances and private shows from the girls *tits* for Stag parties, and the possibility *tits* of some pole dancing lessons *tits* for Hen do's. Then there was talk *tits* of burlesque lessons and other various *tits* package deals we could do involving entry to nightclubs *tits* but at this point my concentration *tits* was beginning to fail me. They couldn't have much left to talk about by this point, so I was determined to hang in there.
Turning to me, Grant asked "So how long before we can get this stuff on the website?"
"Tits."
....Damn.
The awkward silence that followed was thankfully broken by one of the girls interrupting and asking Marlon Brando's double something about shifts, so we said our goodbyes and moved on. And I was doing so well, too...
From there, we were to go on to a few pubs, clubs and activity centres over the next couple of days. I'll follow this blog up soon with how I got on with the quad bikes - surely I wasn't about to embarass myself any more, right?
-Kenny
That's how it all started. A well-worded job advert, one phone call and one interview later and Bob's your uncle; there I was - gainfully employed in a role I knew nothing about! Apprehensive much? You bet! Hell, I can write - and not just at "I went to school and didn't fail English" level either, so I knew I wasn't going to be totally at a loss. The first week went fine; normally I'd have set a security alarm off, crashed a network, spilt coffee over the boss's laptop (in an effort to kiss ass, ironically) or turned up not realising I'd put my underpants over the top of my trousers. So I guess week two was my reward for going the first without getting sacked...
Wednesday, Week 2, and I'm informed that I "wasn't going to be working in the office today". Instead, I was told to pack an overnight bag as I was being taken out to meet a few suppliers to thrash out some fabby new Stag and Hen package deals around the north of Scotland. The hesitation on my face must have been less than subtle, so the proposition was quickly followed with "we'll probably start by hitting a couple of strip clubs...". Sold!
I'll be honest with you - I'd never been to a strip club before. I had a fair idea of what it would be like - I'd just never been to one in person. The guy I was on this 'tour' with was clearly a seasoned veteran of scouting such facilities (purely on business, I'm assured), so I was determined not to let my poker face fail me again as it had done earlier on in the day. Instead, I was going to play it cool, say as little as possible and escape with my dignity intact to fight another day. All the best plans, as they say...
My colleague, who for the sake of anonymity I'll refer to as 'Grant', greeted this Italian looking bloke who came out of the club to show us in. He seemed like a decent guy; almost charming in fact, and from a certain angle a slimmer version of Marlon Brando in 'The Godfather'. But in my determination not to stare at the girls on show, I wasn't about to stare too hard at this chap either. Instead, I tried to take in everything else around me. First thing I noticed about the interior was how dark it was. I mean, I know it's *tits* not exactly supposed to be bright or anything, but I wasn't expecting it to be that dark. Nor was I expecting there to be that many girls inside. There were only *tits* a few guys in, but there were very few places one could look without some barely dressed girl looking seductively in your direction. 'Stay cool, Kenny', I thought. Grant and the Godfather were talking about some packages *tits* for guys coming in and getting dances and private shows from the girls *tits* for Stag parties, and the possibility *tits* of some pole dancing lessons *tits* for Hen do's. Then there was talk *tits* of burlesque lessons and other various *tits* package deals we could do involving entry to nightclubs *tits* but at this point my concentration *tits* was beginning to fail me. They couldn't have much left to talk about by this point, so I was determined to hang in there.
Turning to me, Grant asked "So how long before we can get this stuff on the website?"
"Tits."
....Damn.
The awkward silence that followed was thankfully broken by one of the girls interrupting and asking Marlon Brando's double something about shifts, so we said our goodbyes and moved on. And I was doing so well, too...
From there, we were to go on to a few pubs, clubs and activity centres over the next couple of days. I'll follow this blog up soon with how I got on with the quad bikes - surely I wasn't about to embarass myself any more, right?
-Kenny
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