A Pox on Princesses!

As a saddo who has no life and watches a lot of reality television shows based around marriage I draw a lot of conclusions – and, no, not just that I’m a saddo either.

No matter what show it is, where it is, who it is, whenever these dumb hos try on a wedding gown they like or get ready for the big day they, without fail, will say “I feel like a princess”. They will either say that or start out by saying “I want to look/feel like a princess”. Basically, something that involves the wedding and then them and the word princess.

Why?

I can understand wanting to look “like a princess” when you were three and playing Disney princesses or even as a fifteen year old going to a high school semi-prom type occasion and buying the ugliest fake satin dress money can buy whilst having badly curled hair and an alarming amount of eyebrow hair. Or maybe that was just me. The point is if you are getting married then you are probably a grown person (I say probably as there are some child brides getting about – Courtney Stodden, anyone?). Let me say that again slowly – YOU ARE AN ADULT. Adults shouldn’t want to look “like a princess” on their wedding day. What groom/other wedding person is going to want to turn around to see their significant other dressed up like an emotionally stunted, fake diamante tulle explosion? 

Some. Apparently.

The thing is, it doesn’t stop at the world’s most hideous princess dress. We then have to include the bling. The bling which ALWAYS includes a tiara. I’m sorry, a tiara? Again – YOU ARE AN ADULT. ADULTS DO NOT WEAR CROWNS EXCEPT THOSE WHO ARE ACTUALLY IN THE ROYAL FAMILY BUT EVEN THEN THEY WOULD NOT INVOLVE ANY DIAMANTES, RHINESTONES OR FAKE-ASS CRYSTALS!

I apologise for the caps lock but I felt the message needed to be read loud and clear. Ahem.

It also amazes me at how the label of wedding princess can really vary from person to person. Some brides want to look like fairy tale princesses and do the whole long white glove (erk), hair in a curled generic up-do (ik) whereas other ideas of princesses just translate as slag. Since when did a mesh corset on top (*violent digestive upheaval*) become the latest trend? After all I’m sure Daddy would love to see his little princess tits out and rivalling a stripper.  

How can a real, live person operate in this world and yet still dream of one day looking like a princess? Can you imagine Marie Curie hoping to walk down the aisle in a blindingly white poofy and suitably bedazzled gown? Can you see Sylvia Plath looking longingly out her window dreaming of a diamante encrusted tiara and too-tight bustier? And I sure as hell don’t think that Mother Teresa was that interested in wearing a poorly made, cheap lace infused, 800 skirt, over priced wedding dress to her ceremony with the Big Guy.   

Bottom line – if you want to look like a princess at your wedding then you probably shouldn’t be getting married. Or at least give your significant other time to re-evaluate their life partner.

It's the End of the Loaf not the End of its Life

Why is it that no matter where or who you are when it comes to sitting down and enjoying a delicious slice of bread whether it is toasted, plain or accompanying other foodstuffs no one will ever take the end pieces of the loaf. The beginning and the end of the loaf always lie neglected in the bread bag at the end of the week. The poor pieces probably feel lifeless, useless and abandoned as the only human interaction they get is when someone accidently picks up the end piece only to let it fall down, down into the dark depths of rejection. The only time they then see the light of day is to fill a compost bin or be pecked to death by savage sea gulls at the dumpster. Pretty heart breaking stuff.

I decided that enough is enough. No longer would I be the one to inflict this pain upon an innocent fibre product. I would endeavour to right the wrongs every other end piece had endured by using them to their maximum potential. Was I going to eat them from now on? Hell no. I was going to find other more innovative ways to use the end bits in my everyday life.

As a sponge

Earmuffs

Postcard

A Coaster

Origami

Picture Frame

Iphone case

 A Book Mark

Art

Modern Art

Postmodern Art

Toilet Paper

A Make-Shift Rag for Chloroforming Unsuspecting Victims

Knee Pads

CDs

Money

Note: Most of these are much more effective once stale or frozen. Especially if you are considering using them as some sort of weapon – eg. Ninja death stars.

Just Because it's a Baby Doesn't Make it Cute

Why is it every time I am out with other female acquaintances and a baby is either wheeled or waddles by they all go “awwww look at how cute that baby is!”. I turn and see a bulbous headed chimp.

Some babies are cute – I will admit that. BUT – not all are. I think people forget that just because it’s a baby doesn’t mean it is automatically cute. Naturally, parents become biased and think their little angel isn’t actually a blobby little brat – which it is. That always seem to happen when you are near a small child and they begin biting you, screaming or Exorcist style vomiting in your direction yet the parent does nothing. As if the parent expects, you too, to grin like a valium injected moron at this child’s antics. News flash – they ain’t cute! It’s similar with all fun things that just so happen to be aimed only at children. Like seal shows. Why do parents always insist on their kids participating? I want to participate, dammit. I feel that in my years of life I bloody well deserve to throw the odd fish but – no – this snot encrusted gnome must steal the glory. Glory which they will almost certainly never remember.

Unfortunately, some people will not have cute kids. They will look like shrunken mushrooms for a good couple of years in their lives. Others will be in commercials and adored by thousands until they get older, no one cares and they cry themselves to sleep wondering why.

Why is it most babies look like little old men despite their sex? I get introduced to little Megan or Sarah or Angela and I have to stop myself from offering the newborn a refreshing glass of prune juice or some assistance to cross the street.

Then you get that awful moment when a new mother thrusts their child upon your person and begs to know the answer to the question "Isn't she just the cutest!?". Let me tell you "uumm for something that looks, smells and squeals like a piglet - I suppose so" is not the right answer unless you want to experience what all of Medusa's victims experienced.

Pre-requisites for Becoming a Teen Mom:

1.       Must dye hair colour at least twice every month. Must be peroxide blonde at least once.

2.       Must have long garishly coloured acrylic nails – see previous blog for more details.

3.       Needs to say “like”, “I thought he had changed” and “I never realised being a mom was so hard” a lot and without noticing the irony.

4.       Optional ability to cry unattractively – see appendix one “Farrah”.

5.       If applicant has parental units that are willing to help with the union product then they must be ungrateful and rude at all times which may consist of but is not limited to:

o   Using a nasally tone

o   Having a bitchy attitude

o   Saying “I know that, Mom” when being told something they didn’t know

o   Arguing for no reason

o   Making stupid mistakes

o   Crying over the fact that everything has been handed to you even though you went and made a really stupid mistake and yet you still haven’t got the 70 inch plasma flat screen you always wanted.

once again see appendix one “Farrah” who will be, for the further duration of this blog, titled as Little Bitch Cryface.

6.       Choosing a hopeless partner who may present one or all of the following features:

o   A cap either worn normally but often backwards, sidewards etc

o   Dirty, dirty boy stubble

o   Some form of body “art” – tattoo, piercing, stretch earring etc

o   Must wear oversized clothes either shirt or pants

o   Must say “I’ll definitely help with the baby”, “I want to be there for you and the baby” and “I love and care for you and the baby”.

o   Must then renege on one or all of the previous point’s statements. Preferably by just walking out and never returning except to leave badly constructed text messages on the applicant’s phone.

7.       Applicant for “Teen Mom” status must have at least one piercing on their person. Extra points will be considered for hideous around-the-mouth-often-gets-mistaken-for-a-pimple piercings.

8.       Must always be heavily in debt and/or in need of money and must discuss this constantly.

9.       Preferable if the applicant makes a constant yet ever unsuccessful attempt to get their high school diploma or equivalent whilst always talking about how they will “definitely” get it.

10.   Applicant must have awful first name preferably misspelt. Examples include: Catelynn, Jenelle, Nikkole, Kailyn, Christinna, Cleondra.

11.   Once passing the previous pre-requisites and receiving the union product they will then badly name and misspell their own badly named product. Here are some applicants’ previous choices – Aubree, Alleah, Genesis, Carolynn, Jace, Neveah, Jordynn, Brooklynn, Kay’Den, Destiny, Rylan, Kylee, Aydenn.   

12.   Must be between the ages of 13 – 19.

13.   Must be female.

14.   For extra credit points the successful applicant may choose a second hopeless partner, or return to first, and conceive, badly name and badly raise one or more extra children.

Appendix One – Farrah/Cryface

This could be you!

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.

More "Twilight" Rage

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!