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Another blogger said:
I don’t know about you…but these 15 things annoy me:
1. drivers chatting on cell phones whilst driving
2. pan-handling
3. talking for the duration of a movie show
4. the price tag of popcorn and drink at a movie show
5. people who don’t pick up their dog’s poop
6. you dine at a spotless restaurant, only to find a filthy washroom
7. yellow highlighting in books from the library
8. tv shows, 40 minutes of show, 20 minutes of commercials
9. at the check-out, someone counts a pocketful of change very slowly
10 sitting next to someone on the bus, while they are listening to rap music
11 sitting next to someone on the bus with B.O.
12 people who’s dogs bark throughout the night
13 people who don’t look behind them when they back out of parking spaces
14 misbehaved children in restaurants while parents are oblivious
15 sadly, pets and children left in scorching cars while the owners shopped
My reply to that..."Hey why not look on the bright side":
1. Driver is calling in to report a radar trap
2. The only way to keep wealth spread evenly in this ridden with greed world
3. Most movies nowadays are not worth the celluloid they were spliced on anyway. In a "good film" the silence should be deafening. Try one...
4. Well I think ahead and tend to bring my own booze to cover all my bases
5. Dog's poop is the least of our urban sprawl and green concrete problems - look at crime, carbon monoxide, congestion charges, carbon footprints, annoying neighbours...
6. Most restaurants are spotless, most washrooms are used...
7. That means that some bookcrosser has thankfully pre-selected the most important parts for you to read. Saves time...
8. That's private television for ya. Ever check out state-owned tv?
9. They might have a 2.5-dioptre
10. Better than listening to some chav screaming down the mobile so everyone can hear their latest business deals or acquisitions
11. What's better - B.O. or the penetrant effluvium of a bad aftershave or perfume?
12. Maybe they are howling to the moon. Face it - most metropolitans prefer furkids nowadays...
13. It's do or die out there on the road. Only predictive drivers survive the natural selection process. The White Van Man rules the tarmacadam!
14. Parents are also oblivious to the fact you've just given one of the little rotters a clip behind the ear...
15. 50% of all parents were not meant to be such...
16. I'll take your word for it...
Little Red Riding Hood...defamiliarised
Along came Wolf and sat down beside her.
“Whassup”
“Whassup”
“Get up to anything last night?”
“Na, was over at me mate’s and we got absolutely locked. Am still a bit rough. You out last night?”
“Was over at the witch’s place. She took out a bottle o’ Tullamore and you can imagine the rest. Was out clubbin’ at the weekend wi’ the mates and Sammy almost got into a happy-slappin’ session with one o’ dem lumberjacks. Think somebody’s already posted it on the Internet”
“Was that yer man, the same bloak that was hittin’ on Gretel down at Angel’s, Saturday night? Could’ve shot him. He’s got the missus an' kids at home an’all… Wha’ a nerve…”
“He’ll get his comeuppance, nae worries. So, you over to Granny’s?”
“Yea, just bringing her the messages. What you up to?”
“Over to the city council to draw me dole. Wanker’s have cut it again. Am down to 100 Bob a week. Just about pays the bleedin’ rent.”
“Yea, what’s the new buzzword they use? Rationalisation? Ma’s and Gran’s welfare’s been cut as well and now I’m down working at the witch’s sister’s shop after school just to make ends meet.”
“And what about yer Da?”
“He was laid off down at the woodmill. The sector’s been hit hard and now he’s nae payin’ up anymore. Heard Hansel and Gretel’s Pa lost his job too.”
“God, where are we headin’ like this… Just get yer bleedin’ exams girl! Only way outta this rut for ya. Times aren’t the way they used to be when I was a cub. Well I’d better be off then. You goin’ out tonight?”
“Might be over at Gran’s for a game o’ poker later. Call over if ya feel like it.”
“Rightio. Catch ya later over at Gran’s then.”
“Bye…”
Buy it, strip it, flip it...
Hedgefond managers can rest assured. The G7/8 conference in Essen, Germany, has merely rocked their boats with a "new" financial buzzword: transparency.
As Germany has the presidency, not only of the EU but also of the G7/8, it has a bloody hard time achieving unanimity across the board, and yet a harder time taming the hedgefond sharks from the Anglo-Saxon business world, with their operational centres in London and the Big Apple and their offshore accounts on the Cayman Islands.
Although scepticism is propagating slowly but surely, the hedgefonds' glorified tactics seem pretty effective. They go to work during a currency's deflation, stabilising the exchange rate and with complicated financial structures alleviate banks of high-risk investments, allowing the latter to safely continue with handing out credits and loans to all Toms, Dicks, and Harrys. This supposedly drives consumerism and business and lowers unemployment. Yea, sure.
In the end hedgefonds are nothing but forms of immediate gratification (a symptom of the present era) or even ticking time-bombs that may still set off a catastrophic chain reaction (may I remind of LTCM in 1998?)
Transparency is just a necessary beginning...
Black is back
Is Obama white or black? Who the hell cares! He's a serious challenger to the Bushian and imminent doomsday machine. Announcing his candidature in front of the old parliament in Springfield (long live the Simpsons - one can't help asking where Springfield begins and ends) was of course well advised by his Westwing-Josh-Lyman-Toby-Ziegler-style spin doctors. Here good 'ol Abraham had once made his declaration of love to all colours, shapes and sizes. Yes, he can be "all for all" according to Frank Rich, a blogger and columnist who sees Bush as a "leader".
No, he's not black enough for us, say representatives of the the Afro-American contingent. "I love the brother" says Debra Dickerson "but we have nothing in common".
So what about Hillary. No, let's...hmmm... who the hell should we vote for? There's only the Reps left... There doesn't seem to be any problems re. cultural heritage, origin, philosophy, language etc. over on that side of the field... No reference to the term "West African slaves" or to "third generation American".
The founding fathers of the 60's black liberation movement, Jesse, Al Sharpton, Ron Walters et al. haven't much to say about Obama really, have they? On the contrary. Plus Obama in his recent bestseller "The Audacity of Hope" (does he mean recklessness or bravery?) seems to denounce those times and the "dramas of the baby-boom generation" (sic).
So when Dickerson negates Obamas "blackness" and yet declares her readiness to "adopt him" you can't help the sense of tongue-in-cheek. She maintains a clear difference between "black Africans" of the 1st, 2nd or 3rd gen, and real "Afro-Americans".
Maureen Dowd sees Obama as floating between the white and black polit-world, especially linguistically, depending on where he's speaking.
Caught in a cliché-trap, the noose is tightening around Obama's neck, with party-people saying things like he's the first "mainstream Afro-American candidate that is articulate, clever, clean and good-looking".
More to this in the comments...
Love is in the air
Sent a few "secret-admirer" Valentine poems to meself, as a warming-up for Wednesday (or for the sake of being 11 again...):
Roses are red
Violets are blue
The world is round
And so are you
Roses are red
Trees are green
When I see you
I feel a pain in my....
Violets are blue
Roses are red
God, am I tired
I'm off to bed
And I got this one from my Catwoman friend Mary:
Heartland is red
And the coast states are blue,
But politics
Is still full of pooh.
Make love not war,
It can be said,
Remains a good motto
To take to bed.
Burma Shave
Walking the thin line of life
5 nurses have paid dearly for practising an altruistic profession in a country where altruism is no more than a necessary evil...Where altruistic people are misunderstood and looked upon as if they were from Mars...Where altruistic people are easy scape goats, scape goats for past national defeats and humiliation. One such humiliation was a Scottish one that cost lots of innocent lives plus Libya 4billion dollars - exactly the amount that a chichi court in Tripoli has asked for, for the nurses collective bail that is. A last attempt at Gaddafi-esque national redemption?
Meanwhile an aged and bitterly poor mother back in Bulgaria asks why she let her daughter go on a year's work placement to a country, just like any other, where well-meaning people are growing old prematurely while waiting for their Kafkaesque sentences.
The Premeditated Pizza
The young lad with the milky face, God luv him, looks like he's about keel over in front of me. Bus is nearly there, man! Get up! Power of the mind...hhmmmmmm...
But no, he's nodding away, poor child. School sucked the life o' him. More gel in his hair than hair itself so you can see the scalp all around. Protest Boardwear™. Trendy an'all.
Ok, back to thinking about the meeting wi' the missus this afternoon. Nice restaurant. Great food. Croatian bangers and mash. Better than the ones back home. More taste. And a portion of Austro-Hungarian Sauerkraut...
"The customs official was simply being recalcitrant. Pure extortion if you ask me. Asking that kinda money for the import duty of a private painting!" I says to her, downing my second Zlatorog Pivo.
"I'm sorry but I told you this would happen. It's the way it is here. Old red tape left over from empire. Why, you could be dealing with art on the black market, who knows you know. They always have hypothetical arguments in store."
"I'm simply getting my sister's painting, which she painted at the innocent age of 18, to the safety of our flat. It has her name on it and she also sent the value estimation - summing up the cheap canvas and frame and oil paint. But nothing's enough for those guys. They're always making up something to get money out of you."
"By the way, there's pizza in the oven for you when you get home. You know what to do in exchange don't you?" "Yes of course, darling I know..."
Spoiler warning: plot and/or ending details follow
Watch those carbon footprints mate! We don't wanna erase any smoking guns, especially while my edge bleeds and my lips Botox. Our neighbour's already been to the Anti-Social Behaviour Office and I've been blue-skying and thinking out of the box to the point of frazzling my bloatware. Those bookcrossers keep crossing my path but I can't seem to chill. My bro's been boomeranging and coolhunting but he always fails to do what it says on the tin. Quit cybersquatting Dude, and start designing your babies! Get the fucking furkids off the green concrete for once and for all!! You've been handing-me-up everything I own man!..You've even got it down to a science, kipper! I've had enough of your ladette and lit-pop chums. I'm off mystery shopping with me petrolhead mates. My frustration has ratcheted and I'm trying to regroup before going for a repêchage at this stage. I feel I can't rely on my silver surfer spin-outs any more, verstehst? Everybody's supersizing the big apple and all that's left to me is the Boston Matrix. It's a try-and-buy life where tyrekickers rule! Don't miss the walking bus or the White Van Man will get ye with his wetware seeped in Ritter Sport, petrolstation booze and red bull... But it's not over till the fat lady sings...
The travellog of a female mind
Leaving the house - Taxi driver a tad late, bye mummy and cat
Buying knickers coz got none with me
Meeting Koraljka at Zagreb airport, duty free, she buys a silk scarf for teacher of her son...bribing (or better still: emotional blackmail) for good marks...
WizzAir flight - some British, Croat male arguing with gay Hungarian skycap because of order rejection and menu item not being available...low fare airlines - globalization at its best...
Luton - Drunk British, filling in data about Gabe who's waiting in Galway - "Where are u going? What do you do? What does your boyfriend do? What kind of a relationship is that??"
Landing in Shannon - immigration asks how does that work with an Irish lad - I answer "I'm going to take him with me to Croatia" - He answers: "Good, we have too many here anyway..."
Usual first impression - Smell of Irish air, get a picture of the place 3000km away from Cro, first drizzle, family with kid in bar, no smoking, internet in buses...wow factor...
Getting into car - Gabe got me tins of Becks instead of Guinness, car alarm goes off involuntarily, fuckodrome impossible, no casual sex possible in Eire cause of national parks everywhere
Waking up in Galway a little later, wind, rows of little white houses passing by...feel great factor...
How much time does it take for a woman to process the raw version of the man she gets to live with, into something that she can actually live with?????
A LOT! And it requires a lot of patience too.
what battles should you lose?
every woman has to decide that for herself.
I lost on dirty laundry everywhere, snoring (modern medicine still has to work a lot on that), recycling socks (no matter how many pairs you buy for him), destroying your hard work in ironing his shirts for hours...
Let's not even consider him preferring to eat baby food instead of your perfectly well cooked meal. Or he just eats your half of the left-overs leaving you to eat old stale bread with nothing on it.
And after all that, you still worry when he doesn't get home on time, you worry he got hit by a truck on the street, or fell while going running around the hood on frozen paths. In the end he gets a cold and you have to nurse him.
But he still refuses to dress a bit warmer!!!
Still the show goes on!!!
p.s. and he always overheats everything he puts inside the microwave - couldn't be bothered to set the time right! The result is that he is always running into the kitchen screaming "oh, shit" , and cleaning the microwave splashed with whatever is left of the food he has put inside. the latest addition is heating up the beer!!! Coz it's cold outside!
and they say women are insane...
The human condition...or simply his reply:
Now I've ruffled her feathers, haven't I... The following is a list of bones of contention that the missus is at odds with plus some that make her sing (sorry for the painful mixed metaphors...)
I've put them down just to remind myself. So here goes...:
- I use the kitchen towels (the rolls!) as snot rags instead of the kleenexes
- I dry myself with her towel and leave it damp
- I change the bed sheet and not the covers (because of an incongruity in their rates of depreciation)
- I hang up the laundry with some corners touching the balcony floor that's caked in a layer of construction dust from the nearby building site
- I leave odds and ends, such as condom boxes, lying around everywhere
- I dilute the shower gel with water just to extend it a bit (you know to save a bit of hard-slogged dosh)
Are these reasons for divorce?
The average male will wail and be reduced to a sniveling bundle of misery during a common cold. Why?
Well, women of this world - simply because we men were always used to going out and hunting. A sniveling nose threw a spanner into the works and we were forced to remain in the cave in a furry sack moaning about the fact we couldn't go out and play. Bad scene...
Anyway, I've come all this hunting and gathering way... Made 7th in an Olympic triathlon, 20th in the London City marathon (but never made it to the Hawaiian homo ironicus...)
Life is taking its toll. Wear and tear is depreciating the 'ol means of transport...if you get what I mean... 
But I've full faith in our creation and the design the Great Clockmaker has given us. It was the Homo Neanderthalensis that had an average of 200 fractured bones in his body. Poor fella, didn't come upon the idea that you should kill a Stegosaurus before jumping on its back and beating it with a club. Like some business partners I know...
We've supposedly learned from his mistakes.
Perhaps it was his lack of a good sense of humour that was his downfall...
Meanwhile, over on the other side of the mountain, Homo Sapiens was jumping and dancing around the fire knowing how to tell a good joke. It was meant to attract the prettiest female. And it did... Natural selection.
Today, it's the Armani Jacket. Or the pecs and deltoids, the Ferrari...
Such a nice thing, evolution and Darwinism... Adaptation is the key...
Veni Vidi Vici...
The dinnie-poos and a slice of life
Ohhhhh, I'm utterly stuffed! Just been fed and feel like I've received a culinary low-blow into the stomach pit...one of those below the belt...broccoli, potatoes and white cornflour sauce with lovely tender slices of almost bloody veal steaks... So I says to her: "this is great! A meal fit for a king." And she replies: "You said the same thing when we were at the Maccie the other day. I'll never be able to believe you ever again..." "Why? Look at the expression of ecstasy on me face. Pure love! If your cute backside was a Chinese restaurant, I'd have the poo-poo platter!" "Stop quoting that racist and sexist band! And stop always blogging - it's nothing but a pussy-collector!" "A wha...?" "Yea, I know why you're constantly blogging. Now go and do the dishes, will ye..." "Em...rightio then..."
White Van Man
Hurry up! The white van man's outside
Gesticulating heavily through his windscreen
Talking to him is like drawing blood from a stone
And yet our mutual intelligibility is awe-inspiring.
He was born into the boiler room of the world
And quickly had to think out of the box or die
Becoming an anchor of society he knows the ropes
Knows the Balanceakt between total and utter contempt
and hit and run.
They run you down you tell me
Steal the eyes from your head
Com'on, get a move on
We can't keep him waiting.
Let's fight to bring literariness back to blogs
I invite all to join in and contribute to our fight. Post your verbal hallucinations here...
What's the scene jellybean?
So here I go blogging away. Everybody's doing it (and I mean e-v-e-r-y-f-u-c-k-i-n-g-b-o-d-y!) So why shouldn't I?
But seriously, 99% of the stuff out there is nothing but a waste of Petabytes, or self-help therapy...(Gee, I'm feeling better already with every character I type...)
What do we intend with our blogs? Most blogs take the form of diaries although these were always meant to be private and personal - not for others to read.
What messages do people want to get across and what are their rationales? What is mine, you might ask... Dunno, to tell you the truth. So, is blogging, as such, fundamentally flawed?
Whatever you read, the key to getting into the (dirty) minds of most bloggers is to understand their predicaments; understand their relationships with mum, dad, et al, around them in their small existences and universes... Most classical literature requires this too. But very few blogs carry the predicate of literariness. Quite the opposite really...
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