Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Using the Force

Despite being a Zen master in the art of rage my powers have not been honed to Jedi levels. If I try all that "these aren't the droid you are looking for" crap all I get are blank looks and usually a response along the lines of," what droids?".

What am I talking about? Careless drivers. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! They are the people who don't stop at zebra crossings (Americans don't ask, you just have to stop at them when a pedestrian is walking on them). They are the people who drive too fast down residential streets. They are the people who talk on mobile phones while doing all of these things. They are the people who misuse the indicator. The ones who believe we are psychic so they don't need to indicate.

As an habitual pedestrian I get a little ticked off if a car is indicating right (to show they are continuing around the roundabout (Ok I can't keep explaining, if you care look it up on the web as nested parentheses are going to make me look bad)) and then turns left. I get more annoyed if they do this at speed so I have to dive for safety. Sometimes I think they actually have a death wish especially when they do all of the above but then beep their horn at me.

THEY ACTUALLY BEEP THEIR HORN AT ME! After nearly killing me while driving too fast, talking on a mobile phone and indicating the wrong way they have the nerve to beep at me. I have even been yelled at once. Obviously I razed this fine fellows entire town to the ground and chopped every man woman and child into small pieces (in my head).

Seriously though. If you are one of these people and have nearly driven over somebody at least put your phone down, flick your indicator to the way you are actually going and have the grace to look (you don't even have to feel it) a little embarrassed. Please don't yell at them. Remember sooner or later you are going to yell at the pedestrian Hannibal Lector. It's too late to be polite when you are strapped to a table with someone salivating over your now exposed kidneys.

Is saving a couple of minutes on your journey worth someones life, or you becoming someones difficult bowel movement? Drive safely, we pedestrians haven't told you drivers but we all carry video cameras now AND WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!

BST British Summer Time or Bloody Stupid Tradition?

Ok. Once a year we turn our clocks forward an hour, once a year we turn them back. WHY?

Actually I am not all that sure. Something to do with farmers needing the extra hour? Kids needing more light on their walk into school? In this day and age is it still a sensible thing to do? I guess a lot of people will say it doesn't really bother them so it's not really putting out the majority for a minority of people who don't know how to use a torch.

Seriously though, surely these people have access to electrical lights? Ok, I admit there may be people who live in the sticks (I used to be one of them!). I know what it's like, no street lights sometimes no pavement (sidewalk for our colonial cousins). Grab a lift in, get some lights for your bike or wear a high vis jacket.

Did anyone see the recent research that stated that when we changed the clocks (either way mind) there were more road accidents. I bet it also translates to more accidents in manual jobs. Apparently it takes our bodies time to adjust to a change in schedule. It's like jet lag.

This is a pretty new blog but anyone reading back through my previous entries will get the idea that i am not a happy camper without the good sleep. So why don't we drop this BST crap?

Is this just me? Does anyone actually think perpetuating this "tradition" is a good idea?

Friday, March 24, 2006

Post Traumatic Shopping Syndrome

I hate shopping. Actually that's not entirely true. I hate doing the weekly big shop (if you are from the right region of England)/weekly grocery shopping. It's not a particularly difficult chore, the expense doesn't bother me that much, it's the other shoppers (and some stuff about the supermarket itself but i will come to that in good time).

I hit the supermarket like the SAS tackling an embassy. In, accomplish what you have to do, out. No messing. Obviously there are differences. Although some are only because civilians in this country are not allowed to possess automatic weapons and flash bangs. So yes I get through the place without double tapping the old dear who stops with her trolly across the aisle (thus blocking it) while she babbles on to an equally aged old biddy. Also I dont snap the neck of the check out girl who is moving so slowly she actually appears to have hit some time dilation. What I do is grind my teeth until I hit jaw bone. If looks could kill I am sure Bush would be trying to employ me by now.

I don't ask for much, if you need time to decide what shopping you are going to get at least stand slightly out of the way. If you must discuss chaucer try not to do it across the end of an aisle. Also if someone says, "Excuse me, may I get by" (Hell yes I can be polite even with my worn down stumps of teeth), don't look at them like they have asked if they can sexually interfere with your cat.

I do have a solution my children! Mad max shopping carts. Genius!

Each cart to be spiky round the front, perhaps some sort of bladed side? Anyone maligering and blocking access is banished to the thunderaisle. Two shoppers enter, One shopper leaves. Eventually evolution should kick in and we will be left with the decendants of people who can shop acceptably.

Another things supermarkets do is the layout of the place. Why fresh food first? Why does the stuff that will be crushed by the cans and bottles you will later buy come first? I understand the whole marketing principal of the fresh food being seen first. It gives the place a wholesome blah blah blah DIE! We all know about the marketing tricks ok? We understand. We have moved on. I get it, like I get that an orange juice drink may not be freshly squeezed orange juice and may in fact be from concentrate.

Ok maybe there are still people who are gullible enough. Perhaps the sneaky tricks will drag them in from other supermarkets. Or perhaps if you lay your market out sensibly they would leave for other supermarkets, pulled by the healthy freshness of all the produce by the door. I am sure a place set out in a sensible way would pull in those like me who shopping reduces to a whimpering heap. People who appreciate that we just want to get the stuff on our list and leave in the minimum amount of time, with the least fuss possible and go on with our otherwise happy lives.

The final (ok final is a total lie) gripe is that the supermarket I go to seems to swap things around. Actually it seems more like they hide the stuff that I am after. I like to go to the place I know the eggs are and get my eggs. If they are moved I have to search and that takes me longer. I hate it in supermarkets I don't want to spend time there!

Yes yes online shopping, SHUT UP. You really think it would be a good idea for me to have one of these people in a place away from and easily reached panic button? I shop in a supermarket for the safety of others. I am doing it for the old ladies, for the checkout girls, for the crazies who you see stood in a doorway drinking a tub of pasta sauce. I do it because I can feel my Celtic heritage singing in my veins. My blood calls for me to get naked, cover myself in woad, grab a battle axe and get down like Boudicca upon the unsuspecting shoppers. There may have been a beserker amoungst my ancestors and if so I like to think that he/she is looking on with pride.

Vegetarianism

Ok nothing is more certain to send me into a flying rage that someone giving me grief about being vegetarian. I mean seriously, how does it effect you? It really seems to bug some people that I don't eat the carcass of some animal as part of every meal.

Actually I lied above, people who claim to be vegetarian and then go on to say they eat a bit of fish or chicken are more certain to enrage me. Check the definitions. Perhaps they are referring to time frame? I am vegetarian while I don't eat meat when I do tuck into a bacon sandwich I am not veggie but the second I have finished I am again. Aaaaaaargh. It's like claiming not to be a golfer on the walk between holes.

If you are going to say you are veggie take the beef out of your face. If you want to eat meat fine, just admit it.

I guess it bugs me so much as i have had a lot of grief about being vegetarian. I am not part of the meat is murder brigade I dont hassle people for wearing fur. What did I do to you people?

If I was trapped on an island with a herd of pigs and no other food then it's pork for dinner and I will have my crackling done nice and crispy please.

We have settled who is who and that we should leave each other alone to get on with it. Right? Right!

Grapenuts

I guess a lot of people will have tried this stuff. It's described on the packet as a breakfast cereal but only because nobody would buy it if it was described as building supplies. Seriously, it's like eating gravel. I quite like the stuff personally. I don't eat it too often as I like having unbroken teeth. It's also pretty heavy in your stomach, good ballast for the day.

Anyway, we were sat around the office discussing the flame faced embarrassment we have all had from time to time talking to a girl that we liked. You know what it's like right? You step up, mumble something inane then wish the earth would swallow you. A fist biting moment. I truly hate this. I'd love to be smooth a cross between James Bond sipping a martini and casanova slipping...well you can fill in the rest. Unfortunately I am more a cross between Norman Wisdom and Kramer from Seinfeld. The cure? Could be a bit of alcohol.

The alcohol cure is great but risky. Timing is everything. Getting careless and necking numerous tequilas then staggering over and doing your impression of an elephant (a la sid the sexist) is not the way to woo fair maiden. Ideally you need to have imbibed enough for courage but not so much that you can't talk/speak coherently/stand and/or remain aware of societys rules of polite conduct. I guess women just don't like a swaying, mumbling guy who stinks of booze and is offering her a night to remember.

Anyone know why it's called dutch courage? Do the dutch need alcohol? Does Jan need a beer before sticking his finger in a dyke?

Which leads us neatly onto drunken sex. The timing rule applies here too. Maybe a bit tipsy but so drunk you can't see? Not going to go well.

I have no idea where i am going with this blog entry. Entries on the bottom of your letter to Santa please.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Ok. Here is how it is.

Ever heard of the phrase, " It won't get better if you pick it"? It could be rephrased as, "leave that alone before you get sepsis and you leg falls off". It could also be rephrased as, "stop talking about the things you hate before you reach a critical mass of anger and come to, breathing heavily, surrounded by the dismembered corpses of the people who were unlucky enough to be within reach when you achieved critical mass".

I don't subscribe to that view.

Pick away I say. Take the crowbar of hate and jam it in the happy cogs of your mind. What the hell eh?

Dara O'Briain, who incidently I dont hate as he's a very funny man, went on to a show we have in England called Room 101. My apologies to those who have seen this show I will give a brief synopsis for the shermans.

Basically once you reach a certain level of fame and start doing chat shows you may be lucky enough to be asked to go on Room 101. A chap called Paul Merton hosts. He seems to be hilarious in person but was responsible to perpetrating a really terrible sketch show. Dolphin's heads? I ask you!......

Anyway, you turn up then present Paul (I will call him Paul as Merton sounds disrespectful) with a selection of things that get on your pec's. Anything goes, traffic wardens, airports etc. One brave chap (may have been Gordon Ramsay) even put women drivers in there. Once the items are presented Pauly (getting familiar now eh?) debates the merits of them and decides whether or not they get to go in room 101. Bosh.

The whole point of that rambling (and I feel unneccessary) aside was that Dara (blimey we are chummy with the stars now) said that he started to think of things to put in and found that there was quite a lot of stuff that annoyed the hell out of him.

I fully understand this point of view.

I think many people go through life unaware of how much there is out there that can reduce you to screaming, tear your own eyes out, chew your monitor fury. I say we have to tap into it and let it out for an airing now and again. Otherwise we end up smiling all the time but with a glassy eyed 2000 yard stare or heading up the clocktower with a rifle and a lot of ammunition.

I feel that we know each other well enough now so that I can come to the point without further delay.

This blog is going to be my own little room 101. I will also publish any old rubbish that comes into my head. The beauty of this is no one has to put up with it. my collegues can avoid the morning rant, my friends can breathe a sigh of relief and take their hands away from their ears and you lot can get away with the click of a mouse. You can also walk by clocktowers with the certain knowledge that I am not watching the top of your head through crosshairs. Good deal eh?

I would like to add that it's not my intention to insult or offend anyone and that the contents of the blog will (mostly) be just my opinion (and most likely highly innacurate) and can therefore be dismissed as such. Of course you can always complain to me on my blog. I wont care but it gives me another target!

Breakfast Rage

I wake up in a bad mood. I don't get up on the wrong side of the bed, I get up on the wrong side of the world. Clearly, this is not a good situation. It's considered unacceptable to slaughter the population of a town because I was forced out of my bed just to go to work.

In a quick aside; why is your bed at it's most comfortable in the 10 minutes before you have to get up to go to work? It's highly unfair. There should be some sort of government research done. If we could make it so that you felt like that for the entire night there would be no more war. People would be far too blissed out on sleep. What was I saying?.....

Ok. The red mist. My alarm goes off. I hit snooze for ten minutes of being the most comfortable I have ever been in my life. I can't relax. There is that little part of me saying, "you have 6 mins and 12 secs..... you have six mins and 2 secs etc". When I am at the point where I would happily lobotomise myself with a spoon just to get me to shut up the alarm goes off.

I drag my arse (ass if you are a septic) out of bed and I am clearly not happy. You may have realised by now that I am not really much of a morning person. Anyway the information that I started this blog to pass on. The nugget of truth and beauty that I discovered works for me is as follows.

Aside number 2. Please dont comment with things like, " Oh yeah, I could have told you that" unless you do want me to come for you with pitch fork and flaming torch.

Ok here it comes! Boiled eggs! Yes! I thank you! Boiled eggs appear to be the cure. I am assuming it's the protein thing first thing that kickstarts my metabolism. I usually add some toast with Marmite on it (I prefer veggiemite but I have none in my fridge and I am not much of a shopping person. I will get into this later. I can only face so much rage at once and the incandescence I achieve about shopping has to be appreciated seperately (like a frenchman testing nukes on a south pacific island.).

My day can go a couple of ways.

If I eat eggs...
User-"Can I have help with my PC problem?".
Me -"Certainly, Lets sit down and I can take you through it".

If I don't eat eggs...
User-"Can I have help with my PC problem?".
Me -"The fires of hell will crisp your bones and the scream of your anguished soul will rattle through your empty scorched eye sockets".
User-"Please put my monitor down"

So there you have it. My rage and the only way I have to fight it so far. I see myself as Dr David Banner. I must walk alone to protect people from the hideous consequences of my rage. Don't give me oatmeal, You wouldn't like me when I eat oatmeal.
Jimmy likes you. Jimmy would like to go on a date with you. That makes Jimmy smile.