Common Courtesy, Where Art Thou?

Is etiquette dead?

Sure there are occasions when someone says “thank you” or “please” or holds a door open for you but I’ve noticed recently that there is no etiquette in cultural places.

The other week I went to the art gallery in a sudden show of cultural interest. It was very interesting and in this case I wanted to read all the little plaques that went alongside the images. That wasn’t going to happen. Not only was the place fit to bursting with middle – to old age people gawping, narrowing their eyes and taking off their glasses to get a better look at stuff but they managed to hog every damn article in the joint. If they weren’t practically pressing their faces up against the glass then they were discussing loudly about how this relates to last night’s episode of “The Bill” and how “My Wesley could’ve painted that.”

By the time I managed to elbow other people out of the way to stand directly in front of a piece then a fat older woman would barge right in front of me and bend over. I was literally staring at ass against my will. Excuse me? If I wanted to see sweat pants working that hard I’d go to a McDonald’s. I didn’t come here to be nauseated – not by the other patrons at least.

Have these people reached their older years and gone “You know what? I’ve been polite long enough. Fuck the youth. They can stare at my fat ass all day long.” That doesn’t seem very fair. (Flash forward into the future where I am MC Hammer dancing in front the Mona Lisa whilst knitting) – HA that would never happen. I can’t knit.

I thought the older generation were the ones who were meant to tell us off for being rude? I thought it was meant to be the younger generation that weren’t taught proper manners or discipline and were then brought up by poor defenceless teachers. Apparently not. Or apparently yes and I just got a particularly rowdy bunch of elderly persons. One of the ladies was wearing a sun visor – INSIDE. Is this a rebellious fashion choice? Like wearing sunglasses at night? Take it from me – do not mess with a woman wearing a sun visor indoors. She might eat you and assimilate your youth as her own. For that matter if you see a young person wearing a sun visor indoors – RUN!

Why Going on a Job Interview is a lot like a Blind Date

-        You wish you didn’t have to go. You feel sick and regret ever making any move towards this moment but still have some slight glimmer of hope and possibility that this could all end well

-        You have no idea what you’re in for – it could be really relaxed, it could be uptight, you might have to do an unexpected test the minute you’ve walked in the door

-        You always overdress

-        You get asked stupid questions that seem like the other person is generally interested but actually it is just a ploy to silently judge all that you choose to say like “tell us a bit about yourself”. Where do you go with that? I doubt they want to hear about my chronic disorder that makes me want to stab people in the neck with a pencil. Is it a question about my personal values? Favourite Colour? WHAT?

-        You feign interest at everything the other person says often laughing really loudly to try and hide the fact that you didn't find it funny at all

-        You feel the need to escape to the bathroom every five minutes

-        The questions they ask force you to talk for an extended period of time as if a silence will kill both of you

-        You desperately want to check the time and how long this charade has gone on for but you manage to use all your willpower to avoid revealing how bored you actually are

-        You end up with a sore jaw after forcing yourself to constantly smile for so long in order to seem friendly

-        You lie A LOT

-        You always leave feeling that the whole event was terrible

-        You sigh a huge breath of relief when it’s all over and you can take of your stockings

Dub Step: Sounds of Sci-Fi and Pingers

Recently, I had the most unfortunate experience of accidently lending my ears to the new genre of music which is labelled “dub step”. Good ol’ reliable Wikipedia had a definition ready for me which states that dub step consists of ‘“tightly coiled productions with overwhelming bass lines and reverberant drum patterns, clipped samples, and occasional vocals”’. In layman’s terms this means a lot of jangly noise you could do without, but if tied to a chair and forced to listen then the intake of many, many multicoloured illicit drugs are a must-have.

This “genre” seemed to gently slip its way into the music scene, if you ask me. One minute I was listening to the new Britney Spears’ song (don’t judge – and, yes, it sucked), bopping away at her stupid lyrics and girlish yet skanky tones when suddenly a transformer with a booming voice and a stutter must have crashed through the walls of the recording studio and had at it with the microphone. Meanwhile Britney must have been crushed in the frenzy as she only returns in the song to reiterate what has already been said and therefore already been recorded.

Basically dub step sounds like this:
“BOOOOOOO BA BA… MMMmmm T-T-T-T-T-T VVVVVVVWWWWWAAAAAA… Brrrrr Dun zz zz zz zz zz. Woooooooooooooooooooooooo. WA WA WA WA WA Wa Wa wa wa wa… boom boom tsk tsk tsk”

And repeat for what feels like hours.  

Sorry, how is this music? These are just sounds. Noises.

If I wanted to know what a washing machine and a waffle ironing wooing one another with sounds would be like – this is it.

Sure listen to it at the clubs where everyone’s main goal is to get with someone without seeming like they went to the club in the first place to get some as this becomes obnoxious back noise that doesn’t make people feel awkward. I would feel awkward though – how do you dance to that? There’s no poppy lyrics telling you to “put your hands up” or “jump, jump, jump” so what is there to do when you are being told, in song, by Optimus Prime to… … who knows? Seems like you need to be able to manipulate time in order to dance in slow motion with – at least – an expression on your face which makes you look as if you are stuck in a vacuum cleaner yet really nonchalant about the whole affair.   

In summary – and in case you hadn’t already guessed – not a fan.

Life Aids (oo-err)

I find life can be quite challenging. And by life I don't mean rocket science or something deviously tricky but rather the day-to-day activities that everyone seems to have mastered. Everyone except me. First, I find travelling in a car rather difficult. Mostly because I find driving is an unnecessary stress that we should all avoid but given the place where I live has really bad public transport then that is out. Driving stinks but driving when you don't know the roads or where they are taking you is much, much worse. If you have a decent navigator that gives you adequate warning as opposed to"You need to turn NOW! NOOOOW!! NOOOOO!! THAT'S TOO FAR - YOU MISSED IT!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!" then you might be okay. When you are flying solo, however, signs and directions increase in complexity tenfold. Therefore, I need this...

Then, once I've made it to my destination (most likely the supermarket - I mean, come on, who doesn't always want delicious chocolatey snacks every waking minute of the day? -- What's that? Huh? -- Oh sorry, I think I can hear my oncoming diabetes calling). The supermarket is a challenge in of itself. I'm always trying to save money here or there so I tend to fall for the advertisers' trap of buying what's on special. Damn those little brightly coloured tabs. Having said that they aren't always the best buy. So instead of taking the time and effort to work it out I need this...

I somehow manage to get home and decide to read a book - but which book? I don't want to waste precious time reading something that won't move me to a higher level of being. Or at least provide mild entertainment. So then there's this...

And finally the one we are all in need of...

NOTE: If you blame any of the previous issues on the fact that I am of the female sex then I will reach through your screen and squish your little monkey face between my claws.

The Honest Truth.

In Da Howwwwwwwse!!!

Recently I’ve been watching a lot of “House”... And by “a lot” I mean all day and by “recently” I mean the last few days... each episode is about 40 minutes or so and I have access to seven seasons...

Because I’ve been watching so much I’ve pretty much broken down the formula of the show. Each episode begins with a random patient in their everyday life and they either have a seizure, faint or blood pours from some orifice. In some of the later episodes, however, the writers are desperately trying to trick the audience by having one person in pain only to have the helper fall down and need House’s help. Very clever.

The episode then goes on with all three co-doctors (who have kind of lame sub-plots which boil down to who is sleeping with whom and why do I care) scurrying about in a snappy attempt to get this patient better. In the first twenty minutes they think they’ve got this disease licked and the patient will go home skipping in glee the whole way in a matter of seconds. Oh no but wait now they are a) seizing or b) bleeding/vomiting blood. Cue more diagnoses and House throwing in mean quips the whole way through and eventually we reach the end of the episode with a dramatic curing of the almost dead patient.

Well done, Monsieur Maison.

It seems to me the writers just find the most random and rare breeds of disease they can and go from there... I don’t get why there isn’t a medical database that you can just tap in the symptoms and Bob’s your uncle/medical practioner... I guess there wouldn’t be much witty banter that way.

Now as I’ve been sitting around the house watching “House” (huh huh) I’ve taken on the shows language and behaviour. My man friend will come home and as he is an ambulance operator he returns from a case only to be badgered with questions from me like “Was this patient’s liver shutting down? Were the kidneys shutting down? Did all the vital organs begin shutting down?”.

Noticing a pattern? In the show the characters will always refer to the organs in a constant state of “shutting down” – seriously get a phrase thesaurus or something... the organs couldn’t be decreasing in function? Worsening? Conking out? Backfiring? Taking a one-way train to fail town?

Then it got weirder (for my man friend anyway) as I got a splinter in my foot and began limping around the house barking out acronyms as if they meant something. “Quick! I need an AKR on the FT stat! We need to get a LMD or this sucker will be deader than a road kill weasel.”

Aside from this I write the contents of the fridge on the windows as a homemade white board and discuss what can be made with aforementioned ingredients only to reject every idea that is given eventually making a strange concoction of my own at the risk of everyone involved.

Now I may sound like I’m coming off all cool and totally adapted to the show but at the same time any needle, body fluid or surgery comes on screen I get chills down my spine and need to cover my eyes. I guess I’m only fit to act as a doctor not be one. Just like House! And to ALWAYS jump the conclusion that it’s lupus.

Not Dead... Yet...

Ahoy thar loyal readers!

 Or just any readers.

If you've been wondering "what the heck happened to that weird 'Irony and Pie' blog chick who seems to despise all the things - well here I am! I ran out of inspirational steam and then all this life got in the way. Therefore this entry will merely consist of what I've been up to of late - and it does contain more than watching Hardcore Pawn (please note the spelling).

Well. First. I got rather unwell. My skin began to feel very painful and every touch was like a dagger. Not very people-friendly when your significant other is trying to pat your head to make you feel better and you just scream out "OWWW!! YOU'RE KILLING ME, DAMMIT!". Then I suffered a particularly bad fever which made me rather delusional so I ended up much like this kid...

To make matters worse (or better/more entertaining) I began to invent some new products that I thought - in my crazed state - would help mankind and make me millions upon squillions of monies. I'm not even joking - I was sitting on the floor of the shower garbling nonsense about these "great and new ideas" apparently.

The first was for those who happen to have fake legs. Instead of an almost flesh coloured, really obvious detachable limb that you were too shy to wear shorts with then try this - The amputee fishtank!

Now you too can enjoy the breezy benefits of shorts, skirts and skorts with the knowledge that people aren't staring at your fake leg because it seems alien and unfamiliar but because there are wildlife in there! Forget platform shoes with a few lifeless goldfish in them - try a whole school of tropical and aquatic life! If you are a larger individual why not try to fit a shark in there? Get a work-out all the time hoisting this bad boy around the town - you will get thigh muscles that resemble tree trunks.

Naturally, I had worked out the kinks such as self-cleaning walls and a light and heating system depending on your location.  

Then I came up with detachable hands. Why bother clumsily holding different things, never quite getting the full use of mastery out of certain objects? You only need to have a short, sharp dose of back alley surgery and you're on your way! Then simply pop off your current hands and clip on new ones!

Also available - blending tool hands, knife hands, mobile phone hands and so on and so forth.

I now realise that I was just coming up with odd attachments in lieu of actual body parts. I'm like Quentin Tarantino and that film about the girl with the gun for a leg. I wonder if he came up with that in a similar state as I did?

In this ill time I also had a bunch of job interviews (at last!) but still haven't heard anything (typical). Though I'm not completely surprised at that response as, despite my excellent performance, I did resemble a drug addict attempting to go cold turkey given my sweaty and extremely pale appearance and my struggle to remain sitting upright.

Other then being ill I got the worst sunburn I've had in the last ten years all across my back and shoulders. This made putting on a shirt everyday like this...

I also discovered memes. As you may have guessed. The internet and its jokes are now ruling my being.

And finally I became a bridesmaid.

And that mes amis is what I have been doing.

Hopefully I'll have more material for ya reeeeaaal soon!