Friday, 30 December 2011

The Faker the Better... Apparently.

Why do so many women have fake nails? As in acrylic, glued-on, tackily coloured false finger nails. It seems an odd thing to spend money and time on when they appear to be nothing more than an unattractive hindrance on everyday activities.
Obviously, as indicated by this blog, I have never had and never will have plastic attachments glued to me – unless they can come up with some brilliant fake wings they can join into my shoulder blades and then I wouldn’t have to face the greatest trial of life which is the airport. But until science catches up with my imagination (not likely) I shall not be upgraded.
The main problem I have with them is that they look really stupid. Sure, you can get small barely noticeable ones which are fine as they just make it look like you have nails unlike some of us who chew them right down to the knuckle, like myself. Those make sense. Anything longer than your nail should be (and I’m talking anywhere from 1cm past your fingertip) and it is just ridiculous. You end up looking like a technicolour Edward Scissorhands. Have you ever had to listen to someone fumbling using a keyboard with those things on? It sounds like a bunch of cats and possums tapping out their adaptation of “Singin’ in the Rain” on a tin roof. It gets extremely annoying after about thirty seconds when the realisation sets in that you will be listening to this for an undisclosed period of time. I’m pretty sure it would be self-defence if the typing extravaganza ended with murder.

The other thing with them is that no matter how intelligent you may be the minute you get these adhesive nightmares attached everyone will think you are a total dumbass. You can witness a person make a slight error and forgive them, laugh it off but if that person has fake nails you will immediately categorise them as a frivolous and vain moron. That’s all there is to it.
I guess they can’t be too stupid in having these falsies given that they can:

a)      Manage to use a toilet
b)      Pick their own noses
c)       Attend to infants
d)      Use balloons
...all without injuring themselves and the other party. It is rather impressive I must admit. I mean it’s not like I’ve ever seen anyone with garishly painted nails sporting a constant bloody nose or skewered newborn.

Friday, 23 December 2011

Deck the Malls: It's Consumerism Season Again

As the festive season has unsuspectingly sprung us all with our pants down – again – I figured it was time to give a few tips before the big day arrived. These tips are not only important around this time but any holiday, event or gathering of more than just yourself. Of course I assume that you, dear reader, are annually bombarded by various friends and relatives. If not, then get some.
It has become imperative in life now to photograph and document every miserable moment of your dull, dull existence but as this is now the age of technology and we don’t have to rely on the town crier and the single literate person in the village to document ourselves we use cameras and social networking.  
Let’s get the ball rolling and begin.
Drinking:
Drinking at any event is a tricky decision. If you are sandwiched between two people who you would have been better off never knowing but forced together due to some apparently similar genes, getting pretty darn wasted seems the only way to escape. We’ve all been there. The down side is that you might get on one of these social media type dealies and let loose. Whilst it is entertaining for everyone who isn’t involved it looks really trashy. But then again so does just turning to them and shouting/slurring “WELL YOOO ARRRA STOOPID SHLLLLAAAAG!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!”. Let your senses guide you.
Photos:
I don’t know if you’ve ever seen an example of the duck face? It’s a new trend amongst younger women that when a photo is taken they tend to tilt their peace symbols to the side and pout out their lips in a desperate attempt to look gangsta. In reality you just look like a total twat and, as the label infers, a duck. I would hope everyone has got past this but now there is a new trend that every girl seems to be a bit guilty of – myself included – and that is sticking your tongue right behind your teeth when you give a big toothy smile. Some fool must have invented this dumb rule and through the vines of female discussion it has taken over the world! Apparently pressing your tongue against your teeth when you give a toothy smile makes it look more... I don’t know sexy or something but in reality you just notice there is an awful lot of pink fleshy stuff almost protruding from between each chopper. Note to self – don’t do it. Don’t have any holiday photos marked with these to facial afflictions. Other than your own personal facial affliction but there’s nothing I can do about that.
Dress:
I don’t think people have realised the different standards of dress required to different types of occasions. It seems to me there are way too many guys getting around in board shorts in lieu of real pants. Are they that keen that if they saw any form of liquid they would just dive right in? I’ll let you know if any distant relatives attempt to paddle in my sparkling white wine this year. Also girls are gadding around in thongs (flip-flops – and don’t even get me started I can’t muster enough hatred for these wretched shoes so let’s leave it at that) and big baggy singlets that do nothing but emphasise the fact that they can now wear a brassiere. It ain’t a classy Christmas without seeing some cans.
Food:
Usually food is a big deal. Anywhere. At any time. Given that we humans rely on the intake of sustenance thrice daily it makes sense that occasionally we go all out. Because there will inevitably be one item that everyone wants to eat please don’t be that person who swoops in, takes as much as possibly, eats at a ridiculously fast pace and goes back for more all before you’ve even decided to have some. World, let’s make a pact. If you get the greediest person alive at your dinner table feel free to stab them with any implement provided by the host. After all – what are forks for?
Presents:
All I can say is when it involves distant relatives who are just trying to clean out their garage learn to put on a happy face and then throw it over your shoulder when no one is looking.  

Happy Holidays!

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Honk if you Hate Bumper Stickers!

Bumper stickers and the people that use them are getting out of control. Sure, we’ve all been use to seeing a small number of stickers motoring by. Maybe a “give peace a chance” here or a “honk if you’re horny” there but nowhere near the number you see these days – I say “these days” as if I were elderly. It’s part of my charm.
I’ve been feeling that if you have to have more than two stickers preaching the same similar message then you are an idiot. You are an idiot for treating your reader as an idiot. If you have a bunch stickers saying “save the whales”, “love is all you need”, “I heart trees” and so on – I GET IT. You throw your vote away come every election time – I UNDERSTAND. For some reason when it comes to car messages we really feel the need to drive the main message home. The main message may only contain a handful of words and colours but they do have a certain sub-text – see the image below…

The sub text of these stickers reads – “I AM A DOUCHE”.
Not only that but if have them all over your back wind shield – as most do – then how the heck do you see? Which brings me to my next point. I have created a formula that helps me manage the days when I see several sticker riddled cars. For every sticker you see on a car deduct ten IQ points. That oughta’ make it a bit easier for you.  Try it with your friends. Now you will understand the cars with all the stickers driving terribly and crushing all those that come into contact with their blind spot as they can’t check any of their windows or mirrors due to sticker overload.
Why do people get them anyway? They are so garish and moronic. Look at this.
Best bumper stickers of 2011? What part of 2011 was really marked with the phrase “Too old to care”? I guess with all the rapture nonsense that was flying around that might do it… but really. Doesn’t the population have any intelligence or dignity anymore?
Oh wait. That’s the other thing – My Family stickers. I’m sure you’ve seen these. Everybody is being really cute with their personalised illustrations of each family member plastered to their car. Wow the little girl likes – what’s that? – oh skipping. Yee-haw. They say that they are individual yet EVERYONE HAS THEM. They’ve also become a great beacon for non-nuclear families. Like ones that just have a mum and two kids – you ain’t got no daddy! Haw haw! Maybe single mums are using them as dating ice-breakers. In their minds Prince Charming will help her get her groceries to the car and notice the sticker and then they will fall in love and blah blah blah. I doubt that very much. I saw one the other day that was two older guys, an older woman and then some kids – is that some sort of messed up ménage a trois situation?
I’ve gone on long enough – my blood is beginning to boil so to ease you out here is an image I found rather amusing.

Monday, 5 December 2011

I emerged from underneath a pile of magnum wrappers to write this for you

Here’s the thing about unemployment – you feel that now you suddenly have all this time to get things done that you never had time for when you were working. Like changing the address on your licence, contacting that person you had meant to eons ago, finally getting out and finding the perfect nail polish colour you have been dreaming about, playing on that new swing set down at the park, trying out the new bubble-tastic bubblegum flavoured toothpaste, collecting all the different types of those little stickers that come on apples and finally watching the entire film of career of Samuel Jackson in one sitting.

As you may have noticed, the useful and important things that you needed to get done gradually evolve into a whole lot of time-wasting activities of which the working population would scorn. The other day I found myself watching the entire series of “16 and Pregnant” and actually feeling proud once I had successfully gawped at every knocked-up teenage girl that was given their own one hour television show. How sad is that? – The fact that I was proud, I mean—I’m aware that the whole teenage mother thing is sad on its own but that is another barrel of pudding reserved for another rant.
Suddenly I find myself yearning to alphabetise the condiments in my pantry or write reviews of everything I own and submitting them into the voids of the internet – needless to say my priorities become largely skewed as well. Labelling the contents of every drawer in the house with colour coded post-it notes is far more important than applying for jobs. After all, opening a word document is far more effort than dusting the shelf displaying my newly discovered beanie baby collection and giving them all hilarious yet sexual poses. Making a single phone call regarding work? Forget it. Watching re-runs of “Pokemon”? Hellz yeah.

You’ve probably deduced that writing a blog is another form of procrastination. At least it makes me sound like I’ve accomplished something remotely productive in a day than just filling my head with reality television nonsense. Again those who live in the working world don’t particularly enjoy hearing the difference in possum mating noises that you learnt on some random Albanian documentary that came on when the remote happened to be miles away.
There are time limits on the processes of unemployment and they look a bit like this:

1 – 2 days – wow I’m out of work – this is so new to me – I’m going to talk a relaxing stroll, maybe see a film and enjoy the day.   
7 days – I think that the house is clean enough now and the fridge sufficiently stocked with the items in which to make delicious and nutritious meals for the coming week. It is, after all, time I learnt how to make a decent roast.

2 weeks – Might be time to start looking for jobs. I’ll just open an internet browser and happen to find myself on ebay... hmm... the possibilities.
A month – What jobs are—Hey! I can see a coin stuck between the floorboards!

Two months – Oh no, wait it’s just a button.
3 months – Jelly beans = meal of the day

6 months – I can now recite most episodes of “Desperate Housewives” by heart.
1 year – Let’s face it I’m never going to get another job as I can no longer communicate with people without them thinking I am homeless – even when they are in standing in my home given the hygienic state of both and the my lacking in eye contact and social norms such as not growling when they get too close to the half eaten packet of Doritos stuck behind a pile of dirty clothes.

2 years -  Cn’t rite – 2 bzy wtchin’ zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Friday, 25 November 2011

And Another Thing - Music Videos

So this is kind of a rehash on a previous blog but I feel there is more to be said on the topic of music videos.

We all know they are a sleazy display of the alcohol fuelled, skantily clad youth of today but there is more to it than that now. It's not just sleazy because there are cleavages, various asses and thrusting hip motions dominating the screens but more because of the obvious product placement. It is so rare to see a film clip that doesn't have a zoomed-in image of a car symbol, alcohol label, clothing brand or some other gaudy and over priced unnecessary piece of garbage.

Somehow, recently, I was watching the "Top 30 Countdown" of popular and current music - for the sake of my reputation (!) let's say I was shackled to the chair and my eyes were forced open "Clockwork Orange" style. Anyway I was subjected to the gyrating flesh fest that is contemporary pop and noticed that in the top five most popular songs of the week, three of them had obvious product placement for mini coopers. The cooper establishment must be suffering if they need to have some random singers mating in the back seat. This boggles my mind as I had always thought mini coopers would make any type of courting ritual rather difficult in the back seat given that they are about the size of a tuna can.

Soon the lyrics of the songs will become the tag lines of the products and it will be like "Sha la la la Oh baby I love the way you buy me the products I need. Git out ma Nike hat - the hat that fits better than most and drivin' ma pimped out mini cooper - the ride that bounces, swoops and goes like the wind - vroom vroom, baby yeah". Catchy, huh?

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

Celebrity Chefs

Why is it that everything now needs a celebrity chef to endorse it? When all this shenanigans started it was tolerable and it made sense to some extent. Celebrity chefs that we had a vague idea of would bang on and on about how good this certain product was. It started out as food products. Nigella Lawson sensually enunciates her way through a tea commercial whilst Curtis Stone is fondling the fruit and veg (oo-err) in our local supermarket adverts.

Chefs who write cook books, have cooking shows and teach us how to cook now telling us the benefits of certain foods over others. It made sense.

Next we have some "celebrity chef" that I had never heard of pop up in a dominos pizza ad. And another with KFC. It seems odd to me that a chef, who understands the basics of food and their nutritional content, would decide to speak the so-called benefits of the new fatty sandwich or pizza. Or pizza sandwich. I guess everyone has their price. And the viewers have their conscience that tiny but clearer.

Next came a Hungry Jack's ad (it's like Burger King) which had a "gourmet chef recipe" for their latest burger. There was no actual chef... just the recipe. The whole chef element has been replaced. All I can imagine is a phantom chef somewhere in the seedy underground warehouse of Hungry Jack's being held in shackles and chains making fancy burger recipes every hour of the day in order to avoid another whipping.

Soon they'll be endorsing anything from tyres to underwear to sombreros to birth control. It's getting weird.

Eventually they will have stooped so low and been paid so much that I can imagine a big billboard with Gordon Ramsay or Jamie Oliver (one of the really big name celeb chefs who seem to care a lot about world issues) standing next to starving African children holding a glass of dirty water with the words "when I'm in poverty I only drink contaminated water. There is nothing else like it! Nothing at all!" and giving a cheesy grin. It's only a matter of time.

Saturday, 5 November 2011

Ear Muffs

That’s right, you heard me, ear muffs. Or maybe you didn’t hear me? Because you’re wearing ear muffs... if you are then congratulations you have discovered the ground breaking untapped resource of silence.

First, people these days (and I say ‘these days’ even though I am quite a young individual and as if I’ve seem times prior to now that adds up to more than a couple of decades – which it doesn’t – but I beg that you get the right idea—ANYWAY) –ahem – people these days are so keen to cloud their day and I mean every second of it with some sort of music. Whatever happened to silence? Is that not ‘in’ anymore? I didn’t realise that I needed to be listening to Kanye West whilst exercising, Metallica whilst driving, Taylor Swift whilst studying, Tupac whilst cleaning the house and some random dance track whilst doing everything else. We are forever bombarding our lives with the beats that someone else made and though at times it may enhance memories for the most part it is blocking out the natural sounds.
This brings us back to the ear muffs. Why is it that ear muffs are only acceptable when using heavy machinery? They should be available in all walks of life. Not just the aforementioned activities either. Why can’t we wear them at loud concerts? I know it would look a bit dorky but for the sake of your hearing health it would be better post-concert to hear nothing than a sick ringing of dying cells. What about when attending a children’s party? Or a dinner event at the parents-in-laws’ house? Makes sense to me. Why pretend not to zone out when you can literally block them out?
Let the world know – ear muffs can do more than warm your ears – and more than act as an accessory for your head features. And you won’t die if you aren’t listening to music.

Monday, 24 October 2011

Eye Yi Yi

I've held this blog in long enough, quite frankly, and now is the time it needs to come out. In full force.
Ladies of the world...

TONE DOWN THE EYE LINER.

Dear god, I see girls gadding about with so much eyeliner on they look like a strange new species of sleep deprived lemur.

It is NOT a good look. I don't understand why they do it.

Is it some sort of defence mechanism? Excessive amounts of eyeliner reduce their visibility so that they look more mysterious when they flick their heads around when in fact they are just trying to get a grasp of their surroundings.

I don't think they use eyeliner pencils - on no - they aren't strong enough. They use roller brushes that would usually be used on houses and dunk them into the most waterproof eyeliner in existence. That or tar. Given the potency and frequency of these coatings they get over a kilo and a half of eyeliner slathered onto their face. They must have the neck muscles of champions keeping their wee heads up so as to keep a well coloured eye out for potential mating partners.

We've all had the scenario where you go to sleep (possibly upside down or under a bed) and haven't had the capacity to remove your eye make up prior. The well known panda look results - but this is different! These girls are guilty of an intentional lemur look.
It reminds me of those old cartoons where one character plays a joke on the other by putting black paint on the rim of the other character's telescope (or whatever circular looking object is nearby) and then the other one gets a big black ring around their eye and looks like a total fool. These total fools are doing it on purpose!

Stop it, ladies! Just stop it! If you do I will rub my eyes in disbelief and not smudge my own eye liner.

Thursday, 20 October 2011

Crying is the New Black

Have you ever noticed that in a lot of films - mostly romantic comedies - the heroine gets in a big sulk about something or rather and begins to weep. Meanwhile the guy comforts her and then they both slowly look into one another's eyes and proceed to bonk each other.
Now let me clarify that... when I say the woman "weeps" I actually mean she all out sobs, screams and makes a general scene. Somehow the mouth hanging open, puffy eyed look is what gets the fellas hot under the collar. I don't really understand it... I mean I guess when I cry for real reals I tend to look like I'm snarling, tears running down my blushed cheeks and this vein that goes around my eye stands out like an emo in a crowd of goths. Not my hottest moment.

The men in the films, however, seem to really go for this... Well I must say the film version of extreme crying (from what I have gleaned from accidentally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror when I'm in the middle of a break down) is a lot tamer. After having just watched "When Harry met Sally" Sally looks pretty put together when she finds out her ex-boyfriend is now getting married. Sure she's doing the obligatory sudden sniffs, the over usage of tissues and the frantic pacing whilst wearing a dressing gown... but that's it. Anyway Harry looks up at her, they briefly kiss and then it's all over red rover and bam they're in problem city in terms of what this means in their relationship. But I digress.
Who wants to sleep with the sad chick? Or rather, who is legitimately attracted to someone with snot covering 30% of their features?

Forget going to the clubs wearing a cocktail dress and high heels - hell - just fail and exam and have a total freak out about where you want to be in life and you'll pull thousands of caring and understanding guys. I should really write a dating book.

There is one exception to this rule. Moaning Myrtle. She flies out of the toilet (there's a sexy image right there) howling all the while and yet neither Harry or Ron attempt to wipe the tears from her face and sacrifice their relationship (and dignity) for the sake of romance. I guess you couldn't really wipe away tears from a ghost without putting your hand through their head... and then there's the other thing... huh. I guess it doesn't work with ghosts - except in "Ghost".

Whilst there are a bunch of exceptions to the rule I suggest you try it on an unsuspecting male victim and see what happens. Either you get laid or you get a big detox from having a teary. Win, win.

Sunday, 9 October 2011

Ain't No Thang like a Bacon Wing

Ahh bacon. Good with eggs. The other white meat. Quite pink in colour. Rather fattening. Piggy origins.

Bacon. We all know of it and most of us enjoy it. I didn’t realise that meant it should be added to every type of food to make it better. Bacon doesn’t seem to be a stand alone meat though. It is always being added to other meaty food products like burgers, steaks and salads. If bacon had one mission in life it would be inserting its fatty presence into the mouth of anyone and everyone in the attempt to make it even better.
Turning on the television you will notice the usual amount of advertisements for fast food restaurants preaching the ‘goodness’ of their individual deep fried and heart-clogging products. Take a look closer – well as close as you can get without feeling that tiny bit of spew emerge in the back of your throat because, to me, the food doesn’t even look good in the ads which is concerning, I mean what the heck will it look like it person? Well not person in... burger. Looking closely you will notice that pretty much everything has now got bacon it. Or the bonus of adding MORE bacon at your leisure. Since when did bacon become the thing that makes everything more awesome? Okay, yeah, bacon is pretty delicious on occasion but I wouldn’t wear it on top of my veil at my wedding for the sake of looking more awesome – or would I? Pretty sure Kate Middleton was considering it...

That gets the cogs in my melon turning... what if we added to bacon to everyday objects to make them more awesome? I think everyone needs some more awesome in their daily grind and not just in their lunches. For example:

The vehicle you drive.


Work stuff.


Your kids.

 Technology.


Your home.

 The films you watch.

Everything can be improved with bacon. Next time you are feeling down about the state of the world or some crappy incident in your life just think of bacon.

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

Brown's Going Down

You know the “Da Vinci Code” by Dan Brown, right? Surely you do. If you don’t I turn my head from you and almost feel a tiny bit jealous. Well as we all know it has plagued the Earth for a long time in both print and film – and probably audio book, comic, interpretative dance, musical theatre and puppets. Anyway I’m pretty sure everyone has been near, seen, owned or at least read the book. I’ve noticed lately that everyone must have read the copy their obscure relative gave them at Christmas and then given them to a second-hand store.
My challenge to you is to go in to any charity shop, op-shop or thrift store and NOT see a copy of Dan Brown’s “Da Vinci Code” or any Dan Brown book. Whether it’s “Angels and Demons” or any of the others, which I have forgotten at present, I bet there will be at least one on average at every store.
Go forth and discover! Laugh at its neglect. 

Sunday, 2 October 2011

Coming Soon: Prequel IV the Sequel...

Why are all the old movies being remade now? I don’t get it. We’ve seen it. We don’t need to see it again. Unless you want to watch the original over and over and over again because you haven’t gone to the cinema in twenty years and the very thought of leaving your house at all terrifies the living snot out of you. Well that’s fair enough I suppose.

Everywhere I look I see trailers and ads for new films and tv shows that are
a)      Sequels
b)      Prequels
c)       Spin offs
d)      Re-makes
Can’t we come up with anything new? Seriously? These producers get a hold of ONE thing that is popular and then pound every little aspect of it in every way that they can to make more money. God forbid they sat down and WROTE something new. Look at Harry Potter and Star Wars! If I see anymore merchandise for these films I might choke someone with it and I don’t think asphyxiating on a lego Yoda would be a very dignified good way to die.
Most of the time the above genres are a complete total flop. I mean did anyone watch that “Joey” spin-off series after “Friends”? Or the latest “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie? No, I didn’t think so. JUST LET IT DIE.
Now they are re-making “Dirty Dancing” – why? The original is a classic. You can’t re-make a classic and expect to have the same box office results. That’s just stupid.
I have to say it’s pretty easy to come up with a concept – there are , after all, about a thousand different combinations of random stuff you can put together to get something new.
How about a single woman who needs to find a man whilst back-packing through Europe knowing full well that she has terminal cancer that can only be cured with true love and a climactic dance sequence?
Or a middle aged penguin that realises he hasn’t taken life by the balls and decides to move to London where he starts his own rap business only to realise the penguin chick of his dreams is actually his neighbour.
Seriously... given the crap that I see advertised this is pretty comparable.

Friday, 23 September 2011

High Heels and Low Expectations

Why is it practically impossible to find a nice pair of high heels shoes? Every season I race to the shopping centre thinking “maybe this season I will find a pair of heels that don’t make me want to wash my eyes in acid after looking at them”. This season requires a lot of acid.
Apparently stripper style shoes are the new thing here... I’m sure this tsunami of ugly has already destroyed everyone in the Northern hemisphere but down here it is just starting and I can’t find an umbrella big enough to shield me.
When walking through a shoe shop now I hear these women going “I want a pair of heels that are really classy, elegant and hot” and then they buy these...

 Seriously? Watching drunken girls totter home on regular heels is sad enough but these things? You’d need a step ladder to reach their face to wipe the vomit of their inebriated chins. That and they look like total hags. Since when did adding an extra inch of height to already high shoes become okay in the light of day? These dreadful things shouldn’t leave the poorly lit linoleum stages of an underground booty bar.
When I go through these stores now I like to look at the really horrendous shoes and think of the strippers that would be wearing them, their names and their identities.

 For example, these would belong to Mitzy. Mitzy wears little skanky playboy versions of Little Bo Peep outfits and uses her crook to scrape up the five dollar bills that litter the area surrounding her tacky shoes.

 Candy. Bleached blonde hair, orange fake tan that has sickly looking splotches all over her legs and enough eye liner to sink a battle ship.

 Amber. The tightest dress on the biggest girl. Imagine spaghetti straps straining over a large amount of fleshy girth met with boobs that are so far pushed up they look like melons trying to escape an overfilled grocery bag. Basically it’s Snookie.

Tiffani. Dressed like a schoolgirl complete with way too short tartan skirt, knee high white socks and a whole lot of daddy issues.
Vixxxen. One of those hard core Goth/bondage type outfits that look both painful to wear and be seen in.

 The Cougar. Mutton dressed as lamb. Pretty straight forward just look at most of Hollywood and then add a touch of bogan style.


Laquiee’sha. A mardi gra inspired outfit who is actually a transvestite.

Saturday, 17 September 2011

Yeah - You're Mine

Got ya!

That's right. If you've navigated your way to this page via google in the search for the perfect picture of any of the following celebrities then bam - straight into my web. My bloggy web.

I've realised that in order to get my number of hits up that I need to falsely lure people in and hope they like it and want to come back. I'm probably reaching out to completely different audiences here but... I figured I'd give it a shot. Google, after all, seems the main way to get people to see the blog...

Anyway below are the promised pictures - enjoy and I hope to see more of you! Thanks for dropping by!






Friday, 16 September 2011

Buzz Words

Have you ever noticed that decades of modern history are marked by fashion and music? You know how music channels do montages of the best hits of the 80s, 90s and so on and each clip stars the same hideous garb as the last? I can never sit through those... seeing monster shoulder pads alongside crimped hair more than once activates my gag reflex.

Anyway the point I'm trying to make is that I've realised that decades are not only defined by fashion mistakes and music, they are also noted for their buzz words. As in words that were really big at the time and whenever anyone says them in context now people stop, stare and judge. Like when I was watching "Fern Gully" recently and I came out with "that was a totally bodacious and tubular lunch". I'm pretty sure my audience are still sitting at the cafe staring at the space I use to be sitting in.

I've noticed in this day and age - as in NOW - people tend to use a whole bunch of buzz words in order to make sales. Recently, if an ad for any product comes on television or the radio or one of those annoying people that stand in the middle of the shopping centre going "Excuse me! Excuse me ma'am? Want to try this?" they use words that somehow make you feel like you are doing something good for yourself. Words like "minerals", "anti-oxidants", "organic", "free-range" and "herbal" just to mention a few. Nowadays if a product is selling itself to you and it doesn't have one of these words or something similar on it we don't care. We, the people, want to feel good about buying something that is that little bit more expensive (and it only is that little bit more expensive because of these words not because the product is actually going to deliver any of this promised jargon) so we get a little ego boost about how awesome we are for locating, finding and using the product. Think of how many people we can tell about the product we use.

"Oh Cindy I just bought the most FABULOUS hand moisturiser. It's made from 5000% organic anti-oxidants and with every bottle I've freed an Atlantic salmon from captivity."
"Okay. Cool. I just use the cheap stuff from the supermarket."
"I don't feel that using the 'cheap' stuff is contributing to our fast-paced globalised world and its living creatures."
"I didn't realise that fish were so heavily impacted by my choice of hand lotion."
"Oh they are, Cindy. They are."
..............................
"So, does it work?"
"Not really."

Buzz, buzz, buzz. If someone tells me about the benefits of anti-oxidants I want to then go ahead and ask them if they know what an anti-oxidant actually is - without googling it. We like to believe we are going that extra step to help something rather than just ourselves so the purchase won't make us feel too bad.

Now that we can identify these ad ploys we need to quickly get on board with the next big thing - what's some new buzz words we can throw around in the next ten years and make squillions of dollars? How about... a secret herb that is made only by Sha-Shark-Kan monks in the remote jungles of South America? Or... the never before known extract of a cumquat that will keep you looking good and quite fragrant forever...

Monday, 12 September 2011

Rock Stars

Have you ever noticed that people always use rock stars as the benchmark of kick-ass behaviour? Like when it's someone's birthday someone else will chime in with "party like a rock star". Or when a friend dresses really pimpin' to go out or to a wedding then they "look like a rock star". I assume these people are just going to go out and live large rather than make weird demands for the entirety of the evening. After all, who but a rock star can get away with hiring a bunch of clowns to get drunk and wrestle one another in the presence of a priest? Yeah... only a rock star. Or a really retardedly rich person.

What if rock stars are getting tired of this? What if they are getting sick of having to invent new ways of destroying a hotel room using only their bodily fluids? These poor people are having to pave the way for reckless and thereby awesome drunken behaviour when maybe they just want to have a quiet night in with the missus and watch "Pride & Prejudice".

Have we ever considered their feelings? Would we think any less of Alice Cooper if he started baking cupcakes? What if Ozzy Osbourne started knitting? We could take the 'rock star' genre to new heights. For example - "Hey man, going to the quilt exhibition later? Stitch like a rock star!"
Anyone?

Friday, 9 September 2011

iphone4 is SO Last Season...

We all know those people who dress really badly and when you try to make subtle hints about improving their general appearance they bang on and on about how the fashion industry has corrupted us all and they don't buy into that sort of stuff thereby making you look like a totally superficial and vain ass for even mentioning it. You know the people I mean.

Well I've been thinking about it and these full-time running shoe wearers with high socks and oversized t-shirts boasting destinations their family and friends have been to are also the ones who lose sleep over the excitement of new gadget being released.
These are the people that queue up outside the Mac store waiting for the new iwhatever to be available to the public when it does pretty much the same thing as the previous inonsense but with a different shape. The point is having these pieces of premium technology gives people the sense of superiority over those who are still using a lesser gadget. Of course this whole process is then eclipsed by the next big thing and they race out and buy it storing it safely in a big bucket labelled "junk"that gets turfed to the deep, dark recesses of the garage.

Doesn't this sound awfully familiar? Fashion familiar, in fact? Yeah, I thought so too.
How is fashion any different? These people, who from now on will be referred to as nerds for lack of a a better term, wet their pants at the prospect of owning a new console or gadget mastering in its advanced technological wizardry. If you even suggest to these nerds that they just put on a clean shirt they get that smug and disapproving look and cry "fashion fascism". They seem to think that the small percentage of people who actually do change their entire wardrobe every three months are the same as the rest of the world who realise their favourite shirt is now riddled with holes and barely readable after too many spins in the washing machine and dump it.

Here's the reality: looking good will get you laid.

Monday, 5 September 2011

To Crutch? Or to Crotch?

I've been noticing more and more lately that people are misusing and interchanging the words crutch and crotch. There is a difference, people!
When someone says something like "I'm going to kick that guy in the crutch" I imagine a poor old man getting his crutches kicked from beneath him, hitting the ground in a frenzy of chewed elderly flesh and cracked bones.

Let's get this straight.

A crutch is the thing you hobble about with after being in a foolish snowboarding/motorbiking/slipping over in the shower accident.
A crotch is the thing between your legs. I don't think I need to go in to any more detail on that...

Can you find the incorrect word use with these sentences?

Has anyone seen my crotch? I need to go to the fun fair.

Boy, my crutch is really itchy and inflamed.

I'm going to clutch my crutch to my crotch and sail over the moon.

The more you know.

Sunday, 21 August 2011

Really, People?

No but seriously... really?

Okay I tend to dwell more on the negatives that happen to me in my life but, honestly, who doesn't? The point is how can you see the good in people when people keep pooping all over my existence - at this point in time not literally which is some sort of providence...

Here is my life scoop. I came back to my car to find a massive scratch and dent in it. The culprit was nowhere to be found. How can you do that? Seriously, how can you be such a shite individual that you can cause serious damage and just walk away? In this case it would be driving away but given the incompetent driving they employed when scraping the crap out of my car they are probably dead after driving off a cliff.
I can only hope.

I was aware that the road contained a variety of morons who couldn't drive for various reasons but I figured my overly cautious driving ability had rendered me pretty lucky... but there you go... Morons strike again! You never can win.

Pretty much for the rest of the day all I could imagine was going through a parking lot, walking over the bonnets and smashing the lights out of every car with a baseball bat. It would be a light smashing frenzy with cathartic undertones. It is what gets me through the day without getting arrested. Tomorrow could be a different story if this happens again...

Tuesday, 16 August 2011

Children - Not Always Cute

Here's the scoop, people. Just because you have a child it does not mean it is in any way cute or adorable. Sure, a lot of children are really cute but for the most part parents seem to think their kid can get away with anything because they are lacking in mature years. It's quite odd.
I had a random toddler kick my handbag today because it felt like it only to have its mother laugh. I didn't think it was funny. I didn't go "awwww he kicked my handbag over! Maybe something inside is bwoken! What a cutie!". I would rather retaliate in kind but I doubt that would have gone down well.

There are lots of cute, chubby little kickers gadding about the world drawing out sighs of pure enjoyment from onlookers but then there are those kids that aren't cute and are just plain annoying.

Just because a child is a child doesn't make them automatically cute. The rules of beauty and cuteness apply to children as they do everybody else and that's all there is to it.
It starts from birth - most babies look like pink grubs swaddled in blankets but - I'm guessing - when you've gone to the trouble of gestating this grub for nine months you will probably think it is cute no matter what. That or you will feel like the whole drawn-out exercise was a total waste of time.
Then they get a bit older and manage to become annoying on a whole new level. They no longer just scream, poop and make mess they also manage to do all three whilst moving by themselves and getting into all sorts of shenanigans. By no means does this make them cute.
If the child is actually cute then they are not exempt from consequences. No one ever is.

They get older and any residual cuteness fades away despite this they still try it on... The non-cute ones should have learned by now that they will have to get what they want with honest hard work or blackmail. And so the world keeps on turning...

Sunday, 14 August 2011

Words Strike Again!

"You know what... that dress you bought last week that I said looked really good on you actually looks terrible – just sayin’!”

Has anyone noticed that the phrase “just sayin’” is a guaranteed social get-out-of-jail-free-card? You can say whatever you want to someone and by adding “just sayin’” to the end you have ensured there will be no ramifications of saying what you really think. Usually we bite our tongues when giving criticism to people... unless you’re a total douche and just act like an ass to everyone. But to those who actually have friends they tend to be nice. There are certain phrases, however, that allow you to speak your mind... aside from “just sayin’”.
There is:

 “I didn’t want to tell you this but...”
“You didn’t hear this from me...”

“I wasn’t going to say anything but...”
“No offence!”

And so on.
Basically, you need to add these to any sentence and then go nuts with whatever thinly veiled insult criticism you have. It seems like an odd loophole that has presented itself to us. Usually the phrase was “if you can’t say anything nice then don’t say anything at all”. Now it’s “say whatever the hell you like but don’t make it seem like it’s coming direct from you, rather it’s a duty you are performing to aid the other person in their mistakes”.

Here are some of my own:
“Fake tan is the most fail creation I’ve ever seen. No one can seem to get it right – just sayin’!”

“No offence but if you wear Crocs you will look stupid.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything but Lady Gaga’s bizarre dress choices are a scapegoat for her inability to dance very well.”

“I didn’t want to tell you this but the epilogue in the final Harry Potter book was sappy and unnecessary.”
Just sayin’!

Friday, 12 August 2011

Heed this Warning...

The other morning, before I made my daily journey to work, I was looking for some music to listen to. Having decided I was sick of all the legitimate music I kept on my CD shelf – in full display to any guests, I ventured into the draw where I keep all my spare miscellaneous CDs from over the years. I came upon one that read “Music Mix”. Fair enough. I would give it a whirl.

I popped it in the car stereo and headed on my way. I shortly realised this was a CD from my adolescent years where I was taken in by the latest song even if it only contained a drum beat, heavily auto-tuned backup singers and a generic rapper over the top who says “yeah” a lot. There were also many other different types of terrible songs from the past that people would probably remember but try to conceal.
Nonetheless I was grooving away on the drive, sadly, knowing all the words and any appropriate hand gestures that went with the song – and no I am not talking about the “Macerena” give me a little bit more credit than that.

As I was grooving and driving – drooving if you will – I started thinking about how embarrassing it would be if a) I picked up a hitchhiker (not that I ever would by myself because I don’t want to get stabbed in the neck with a sharpened stick) or b) was in a car accident. Sure I’d be fatally wounded and that would be a big bummer but the main point is that when the hitchhiker got into the car they would probably get right out hearing the terrible music that I happened to be listening to. Similarly, I can imagine a paramedic racing to my crushed, mangled car in slow motion dodging fire (there’s always fire in dramatic situations) ripping the door off its hinges to rescue the poor, innocent and injured damsel... only to realise she was listening to a Shania Twain song from the early 2000s and instead of rescuing me just leaving me there in shame to die in Shania’s country/pop embrace.  
I guess everyone has the thought about what-if-they-died-and-someone-would-have-to-clean-out-their-house-and-subsquently-dicovered-their-extensive-collection-of-erotic-smurf-paraphenalia. It has dawned on us all. The car music thing, however, be wary. Listen to “All the things she said” by T.A.T.U. in the safety of your own home.

Saturday, 6 August 2011

My Techology is Better than Yours.

Why do Apple products feel the need to self-promote themselves? Sure, every business wants to let everyone know how awesome they are but I think it's a little bit lame that every product they release sets itself on a mission to let the world know about it and its brilliance.

Like ipads and iphones. Whenever someone sends an email from either of these products they end the email with "sent from my iphone" or "sent from my ipad". The person has no control over this but everytime I see that message I take it as an insult. A message of look at me and my sweet, fancy gadget - far superior to yours.

What if my computer did that everytime I sent an email? It would go like like:

Ray-Ray,

No, you cannot borrow my spandex tights again. I spent hours cleaning the mustard and bubblegum off them after the last time you used them.

Sent from my piece-of-shit Toshiba

Saturday, 30 July 2011

Humans = Big Ol' Suckfest

When you get a job and it involves anything to do with talking and dealing with people face-to-face you eventually come to the realization that people suck.

Let me just emphasise that a little bit more – people SUCK.
I’m sure we’ve all been in a retail/hospitality type situation where an individual goes crazy over the most trivial and insignificant matters. It happens A LOT.

I’ve been working at a hotel for a while now and I never knew people were so annoying – particularly when they are holidays. When I go on holiday I go there to see the place I am visiting, eat good food and have a good time. I never care about the state of the place I stay in (unless of course it is crawling with lice and there is no roof) but SO many people do. I am constantly bombarded by the wankiest complaints.
“Excuse me but does the body lotion in the bathroom contain wheat?”

“My soap dish wasn’t properly cleaned. I think someone might have stayed in my room before me”
“My television only gets 399 channels and I really need 400”

“When I go into the public swimming pool other people can see me and it isn’t very private”
“I’ve been in my room for five minutes and it hasn’t been cleaned again yet”

For the most part people whinge about stuff they should have found out before arriving. If you do your research then you won’t need to get all huffy about the fact that, no, your room does not have a gold plated urinal that shoots fanta when flushed whilst playing “We Will Rock you”.
Why do people suck?

Interacting with other humans is mostly an unpleasant experience and all the good people you meet and see don’t counteract the lame ones that plague the earth demanding soy sheets and turtle friendly light fixtures.
I think the only conclusion is that people are douche bags love to complain. Or rather older people love to complain. I consider myself to be in the youthful category and I have hardly ever complained about anything in any official capacity because I go at it with the thought “get over it”. Older people (and I had SO better not turn into one… though maybe it’s fun…) like to find fault in most things and nothing compares to their humble abodes which begs the conclusion to STAY AT HOME. Buy some inflatable palm trees, throw some sand about the place and BAM a tropical paradise in your own home.

What annoying people have YOU dealt with?    

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

Just a Thought... naked children (oo-err)

Why is it that every single person has a photo of themselves naked? Usually as children.

Not only are you naked but often you are in a nude situation with some other kids you have absolutely no recollection of.
First, why do parents photograph their children when they are in the process of bathing? Is it really necessary? I understand that, yes, children are covered in dirt, poo or general detritus 99% of the time and that remaining one per cent is when they actually are in the bath but why the need for a photograph? I thought photographs were reserved for special events but apparently not.

When I was a kid my dad use to put me in my high chair to eat my lunch, naked, and let nature take its course. After I had “had my fill” he’d literally hose me off with the garden hose. Luckily there’s no picture of that. I guess I didn’t look as cute covering my face in food and shitting myself at the same time as I did in a bubble bath. Who would’ve thought?
Second, why do parents always seem to dump their kids in the bath with other random kids? It’s as if parents have little hang-outs so they jam all the kids in the bath to amuse themselves. Given that there is photographic evidence I assume it isn’t unsupervised.

Every person has a photo of themselves bathing with other children. If I bathed with these people now I would freak out. Not only would we not fit into a bath tub as we did back in the day but there would be too much hair and privacy being exposed.
Maybe parents do this because kids never stay still. It makes sense to put them in a slippy sided container (as you would a spider) whilst you struggle to maintain your hair and sanity. Then once you have attempted to pull yourself together you realise these little wee ones aren’t so bad after all and begin to gather snapshots of them with beards made of bubble bath or chewing the head of a rubber duck.

Chances are if I am ever a parent I will end up taking snapshots of my widdle babies when they are getting all squeaky clean. I assume they will be my own children as well...

Man Clothes are Manly

There’s so much irony in this world I don’t know where to begin! Probably with this blog... and its title. Duh.

Men.
The eternal question.

I should probably rephrase that.
Men?

Ahhh men... the “y” chromosome of manliness. Men want to be considered masculine – generally – and in order to do this they shun all that is the opposite. All that is girly. One of the aforementioned shunned fields is that of fashion or rather caring about the way they physically appear to others. At least openly. I know loads of guys who spend FOREVER on their I-didn’t-even-try look but that is not the irony of the day.

It weirds me out that dudes consider clothes as girly yet the manliest of all sports (I give this title due to the violence, brutality, sweatiness and lack of shirts) is boxing. Boxing, as far as I can deduce, is two blokes beating the living bejeepers out of one another whilst wearing shorts and mittens. Does anyone else find it odd that the manliest man (the victor) is bestowed with an accessory? Otherwise known as an item of clothing. Nothing says “I destroy other men” like a pimped out, bling-bling belt. It happens in A LOT of sports now that I think about it.

What about cycling? Or rather the Tour-de-France. Okay we are taking a step down in the manly list with this one given the fact that these guys are admittedly shaving their legs but the winner of the whole she-bang is awarded the coveted yellow jersey. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a jersey let alone a yellow one.
Then there’s golf. Again I don’t really see this as particularly manly. Tiger Woods attempted to make the sport pretty pimpin’ when he started screwing around with other women and his wife took to him with a golf club (oh the irony...). But at the end of the day these guys earn millions of bucks for twisting a stick. At the end the best twister gets a jacket. A jacket is an item of clothing just in case you were unaware.

Cricket tournaments just get some old dirt. I guess you could use it as body glitter if you got really desperate.
Before you know it Rugby players will be given some garishly coloured lingerie as a prize.

Saturday, 9 July 2011

My Laptop is a Skank

I’ve had my laptop for many years now. We’ve worked together, played together and spent hours together just hanging out. My laptop, who I lovingly named Mungo, and I were so happy.
Note the past tense.
Whilst Mungo is still my favourite laptop, complete with all my personal touches and files it runs slower than a legless turtle. When I press the “on” button I walk away and do another activity so I don’t have to witness the outright eons that it takes to get itself ready to do a simple task. Opening an internet window takes a good twenty seconds and don’t get me started on trying to do anything simultaneously.
It also flashes white for an instant and sometimes decides to create thousands of internet windows one after the other as if to say “you wanted internet windows WELL HERE THEY ARE, BITCH!!”
It’s a nightmare if anyone else wants to use it. Sure I can navigate all its faults but a first timer does nothing but whinge, moan and throw their hands in the air at the sheer hopelessness of this computer. I bet it hurts Mungo’s feelings. After all, I’m the only one allowed to complain about it.
Moving on to my main point – Mungo is a dirty, dirty, strumpet.
Context? Right.
I decided after all its faults that I would get Mungo fixed. It was getting to the point where I wasn’t using it at all if I didn’t have to. And using other, more competent computers, it was making me realise how screwed Mungo really was.
I found someone at my place of work who considered himself quite the geek (his words not mine) so I packed Mungo up with an overnight case and sent it away to be fixed.
A few days later Mungo was returned to me. I took it home and eagerly awaited turning it on to see just how super jet fast and capable it would now be. I pressed the “on” button.
 What seemed like hours later...
“What the crap!? This thing is still a slow motioned turd of a system. COME ON! Grrrrrr....”
It didn’t work. It wasn’t fixed. Mungo was as slow as ever.
I tried calling the geek who supposedly fixed it – ready for a story of how he was defeated in the mending process.
“Hello?”
“I thought you were going to fix my lappy?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“What?”
“I turned it on and ran it a couple of times but didn’t have a problem with it.”  
“What? I’ve seen 90 year olds shuffle faster than this thing.”
“It didn’t do any of things you say it did to me. So I didn’t do anything to it.”
The plot thickens.
Apparently my laptop is a conniving conception of modern day technology. Mungo no longer wants me as an owner and acts like a retarded piece of metal instead of my only portal to the internet and life companion.
I had always thought Mungo to be a male. Well as male as a no-sex inanimate object can get. Either I was wrong or Mungo is gay. Mungo lusts after the computer geek and no longer chooses me as its master. I can see it now batting its web cam eyelashes at him, displaying extra bright just so he’ll notice and opening its disk drive right up... unbelievable.
Mungo is a manipulative, mature aged harlot and that’s all there is to it. And I’m stuck with it.     

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

Hugs All Round

I’m sorry, but when did hugging become the new handshake?

I have recently been finding myself pressed against individuals that I have no real connection to a lot lately. I remember the days when an odd glance and an almost awkward finger waggle would be enough to get you through the gates of western social etiquette. Apparently the non-touchy days are over.
Since when have we been feeling the need to invade one another’s personal space in the desperate need to become more physically engaged with each other?

I’ll be honest – if I don’t know you – I don’t really want to touch you. Even if I do know you there are levels of awkward hugging. Seems to me the level of comfortableness is in direct relation to the distance of either parties’ hips/private areas. It looks something like this...


Or this...


There are the rare occasions when you get an overly friendly person who will grind right into close friend hugging town and when that happens abort immediately. Make it an extremely short hug and keep your eyes peeled for their every intimate action.
The rate this is happening pretty soon we’ll all be hugging at job interviews or when we use public transport.

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

Drivers Gone Wild

As we discussed earlier, criticising someone in person is not something we all enjoy doing (unless you are one of those hilariously evil people).Talking behind other peoples’ backs just makes the world go round but when it comes to expressing your negative critiques to someone in the same room as yourself you tend to bite your tongue or at least say it in a half joking way to gauge their reaction like
“yeah the haircut looks great – for a transvestite!
*pause – quickly scan other person’s face*

I’m just kidding – it is fantastic and you are fantastic!” *nervous laughter*
Hours later talking to a different person

“O-M-G she TOTALLY looks like a trannie now!”
This is life.

The one thing, however, that we never seem to be able to discuss is the driving skills of another direct person. If you are in the passenger seat with someone who is driving like a drunken hyperactive orangutan there is little you can do to get them to stop without them getting really offended, sulky and either driving ridiculously slow or race car fast for the remaining duration of the drive.
There are so many important facets of driving that can be done badly – tail gating, speeding, driving too fast around corners or on wet roads, cutting people off, littering, not indicating, driving naked, falling asleep at the wheel, operating a tamagotchi whilst driving and so on.

It makes me nervous. And it is a little silly that we have to use that fake smile that says “I’m totally cool with dying today – I’ve had a pretty good run” and never express our fears when our lives are at risk. You can make some feeble analogy to make them get the hint like “Oh... on a totally unrelated note I knew this guy once, friend of a friend, who was driving really fast with his closest family members in the car and because he was going too fast they smashed into an apartment building and everybody in the car and the building died because the building collapsed on it and it was because he was driving too fast. That’s the thing with driving too fast though, huh?”
I guess you can somehow try to screen the potential drivers in your life based on their car appearance. Though this can be misleading. If the car is a race car you might need to worry, if the car is deceptively safe looking you might need to worry and if the car has bumps and scratches all through the paint with the number plate hanging off and the bonnet leaking fire then you should worry.

I mean of all the times when it should be kosher to speak up this is the worst. You just have to live (no pun intended) with the fact that you may die as a direct cause of these crap drivers. As much as you want to scream out “SLOW DOWN YOU CRAZY B****! HOLY CRAP, LOOK OUT! AHHHHHH!” You probably won’t. Instead you’ll silently cry and wet yourself. It’s the polite choice.

Monday, 4 July 2011

Technology - Turning us into Twats one Gadget at a Time

Has anyone else noticed that as our social technology has advanced and become less physically personal that people are getting progressively ruder?

I have.
When you work in hospitality you learn that people are more than willing to treat you like something they found stuck to the bottom of their unattractive shoes than be told “no” over the phone. Of course there are the people who act like complete tossers face-to-face - but that is a different story.

Firstly, people don’t like being told they can’t have or do something and they get crappy about it. Which is fair enough if they have been promised but people in our fast-paced, consumer driven, me me me world aren’t okay with less then what they were after and more.
People like to complain – a lot. It’s the bad things that happen to us that we remember most. So, in turn, we like to whinge and bitch through a variety of isolated mediums. We like to take our attacks out on anyone we can. Any slight indication of another person we can blame and insult for our sake and we are off like a shot. We scream at the telemarketers, we berate the receptionists, we write long winded and poorly thought out complaints that will only be seen by a few people at the bottom of the chain who will creatively fashion their idea of the complainer in their heads and move on (this imagination will always leave the complainer being fat).

Before phones were invented I can imagine people getting around in crazy old timey dress and being polite to one another and accepting when things didn’t go their way with a tip of their hat or a flutter of their Parisian fans. Then Alexander Graham Bell had to invent something that would allow these people to vent wholeheartedly into and not suffer any of the disappointed looks they would face were they in person.
When you are mean to someone on the phone you don’t take into account that the voice on the other end is actually a real person with real feelings. Well they are. I’m sure we’ve all had our moments when we’ve got frustrated but swearing and becoming unreasonable to someone via this medium is a little trashy. At least you can pull faces and flip people the bird into the phone without them noticing – or hanging up on them. Though hanging up on someone doesn’t feel as victorious when you have a cordless phone. There’s nothing like slamming a phone down in a fit of passion. Pressing a little “end” button isn’t as poetic or cathartic but much more prissy.

Then it comes to the internet. I think you all know where I’m going with this one. Have you ever been a chat room? Or read some of the comments people write about anything and everything? Good lord. The internet has become a place consisting mostly of half-illiterate complainers and people with a vocabulary that consists of misspelt profanities. When you read some of these can you imagine them being said out loud? To another person?  I marvel at half the crap these people come out with. If someone said to me, at my job, in person “yo didn do wot i asked an evrything woz shit so gimme bak my $$$ bich – LOL”. I would have to stifle my laughter whilst pressing the button for security to take this person somewhere special.
Let’s get eloquent with our complaints. Let’s get creative with our issues. If you need an example take a leaf out of www.27slash6.com ‘s book – this is a huge plug for this website. It makes me literally lol.
So the next time you get frustrated with something in your life – just take a second to calm down before verbally lashing out at another person or else you’ll be laughed about for days later for being a fat complainer. Whether you are fat or not.