5 Ways To Effectively Finish That 1500w Essay Before that Pesky Due Date.

1. Become a domestic Godess
Oh sure, cleaning is a favourite pastime of mine, right up there next to watching Startrek reruns and paperslitting my eyeballs. You can obviously see why this would be an imperative part of the process of completing an amazing, well-researched and educated essay before the due date. I like to start by making sure that all of my clothes are put neatly in to my wardrobe, but that’s just me, you might like to start somewhere else. Then I like to make sure everything in my bedroom is sitting at a perpendicular angle, again this is just what I prefer everybody has their own equally effective method. While doing this, it’s a great idea to also rifle through that top “junk” drawer and go through all of my legal documents to double check the personal information of that identity I am assuming in case of a close brush with the law crap. 
You might like to vacuum, lest any flecks of dust from my floor may spring up and get caught in your eye thus preventing you from being able to look at the monitor to type out the assignment. You should dust everything as well, you know, just in case you inhale dust particles and end up with a cough and need to lay down which again could prevent you from actually getting the work done.

A fresh smelling work space is an effective work space, remember that. I find it’s a good idea to move around my furniture too and even on some occasions there is a very strong necessity for new furniture – this is purely for OH&S of course. It’s right to be ergonomically correct.

After you’ve spent around 3-10 hours on this task, you should be almost ready to get writing!

2. Masterchef
In order to get your brain energised and ready to expend it’s full and overflowing intellectual capacity upon the clean white slate of MS Word, you’ll probably like me, need to make something to eat.

This is actually an excellent chance to use that slow-cooker that you bought 3 years ago and haven’t used once. Also, you’ve got to go get some meat to braise from scratch, so probably best to take a trip to the grocery store… Oh, and also, there’s that list of necessary items that should be picked up that should read something like this; chocolate, chips, chocolate, crackers, chocolate, sour cream, chips and sour cream… Also there’s this new hair stuff you’ve been meaning to try….

I’m not stupid, I know there’s no point in trying to study on an empty tummy, so it’s probably a good idea to wait for that meat to braise which should be done almost in time for dinner.

And you know what? … After that it will be almost time to start on that essay that is due at around midnight.

3. Researching

Everyone knows that the key to a fantastic paper is a well-researched one. Heck, I know this… that’s basically why the internet was invented – so that the information is at my fingertips… right? … Well, besides porn that is, but alas, that’s another story.

So in order to get some opinions on where to look for the information about your essay’s subject, its probably a very good idea to ask your friends collectively over Facebook and also to send an SOS tweet out so that one of your many friends may be able to help with opinions and ideas! Social networking is much more reliable than it was before when it was all about myspace, you see.

It’s okay to have a conversation on Facebook chat with one of your uni friends about the woes of your assignment and ask for his or her pointers – and you better listen to her or his woes in return – its only fair. While doing that, it might be shrewd to update your Facebook profile picture, as it probably will entice people to come to your profile and have a look at the SOS note you posted for help with your research.

Let your friend talk about their assignment while you take a couple of super awesome shots with your web cam, camera phone or whatever device is necessary. Upload, and let those friends flock to you with their unending wealth of knowledge and reliability!

This baby is actually going to be cake, it could in fact probably write itself.

4. Cry. A Lot.
This is an absolute prerequisit of finishing that essay. If I know the time like I think I do, it should be close to midnight, probably about 10pm. It’s all down pat. The title that is, and a couple of notes which may sound incoherent when you read them back to yourself 35 times over, but… oh who are we kidding?

Okay, it’s around this time that I like to start regressing back to the terrible-twos. You know, crying, stamping your foot, throwing yourself on the ground and cursing about how stupid the assignment is. Because let’s be honest, essays are stupid and usually the questions are ambiguous. Stupid ambiguous essay, I’ll show him who’s boss. BOSS. 

I find that it’s usually a good idea to cry and call your bestfriend who is probably a frigging scholar by now. Cry to her/him. Cry and explain your predicament about how you worked so frigging hard on this assignment all day long and how it’s not fair and that probably you’re not cut out for university and you’re too stupid.

Sob now; it helps, get it out. There, there.

5. Panic.
Panic is a great motivator. Trust me, it’s my specialty.

So you rush around to the databases provided by your school. Read a couple abstracts, download the PDFs, skim read for anything to support your horribly baseless essay argument, apply your quotes, start the word countdown game, probably by updating your countless friends on facebook of your progress despite the fact that nobody cares… Oh, actually that was rude of me; of course they care about your academic progress. Get your 1500 words together, string them together, make them flow…or something, repeat if necessary, just with different words, wrap it up like a nice neat little package… Shove it all together, apply your stupid references in the stupid references section, put your cover page on, email it through at 11:59pm and not a little friggin’ second before.

Now just sit back and marvel at your own sheer friggin’ brilliance. 
Oh, hang on… you might like to reconsider that in case you are happy to find the 18 typos, 2 unfinished sentences, the paragraph that looks like a crayon drawing of your family from when you were six and… and of course… the notes at the bottom that you forgot to backspace…
But hey, you effectively completed it. You wrote 1500 words – they may not be coherent and may just be nonsensical, but there are 1500 words. Well done, give yourself a pat on the back.
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Movies Without Pity Review #3 – Valkyrie

Each time I think of this movie’s title I start singing in this amazing voice not at all dissimilar to the late and great Amy Winehouse, “why don’t you come on over Valkyrieeee” if only the movie was as good as the song.
Oh Valkyrie, what might one say about you. Not a lot, surprisingly.
Let me start by saying that, I’m not a Tom Cruise fan, shocking and controversial, I know… Kinda sucks considering the whole movie is based around his goofy character.

It could be because Oprah likes him so much and I make it my business to like nothing that Oprah likes, including the use of loud wrestler and boxing announcer’s voices. It could also just be on account of his thin, villianous lips and a penchant for leading us all to his home planet… It could also just be because he called Matt Lauer, ‘glib’ or… oh wait, hang on, that’s one of the reasons why I put him back on my Christmas card list… Well anyway, the possibilities are just endless!

Oh yeah, the movie… so it’s based on a true story, apparently. See, I wouldn’t know. You know why I wouldn’t know? Because this story and the other 15 that went along with it of the same vain never quite made it to the history books. Generally when it comes to things that change history, they are successful ventures, political downfalls, uprisings that are fulfilled, discovered lands and much, much more. They don’t write books about the first man that almost landed on the moon… Or the time Rosa Parks almost sat at the front of the bus, but didn’t because she was 3 minutes late and missed it… Don’t worry, you’ll soon see where I’m headed with my point…
The story goes like this…
Tom Cruise and his homies are part of the SS. He gets in to a nasty little fight with a grenade or a bomb or a very citric lemon early on in the movie and ends up looking like a dorky pirate having to wear an eye patch. I think the lemon’s acidity must have been extremely toxic because it took with it a couple of necessary fingers too and later in the movie this impedes his ability to receive the phone calls and urgent memos that Hitler was actually still unscathed after his disasterous efforts to take us back to his home planet destroy him.
So backing up a bit, he and his mates have this plan of granduer to overthrow Hitler. They devise a bomb, meet once a month like Homer and his stone cutter buddies, and drink and be merry, oh and try to figure out a way to kill the Führer (Hitler). They have this apparently failsafe plan… kind of like the plan I had when I was 14 to dress up in a dog suit and knock on the door of Taylor Hanson and convince him that I was a stray dog and he’d have to keep me… Just kidding….
It wasn’t when I was 14. It was like, last week. (also wasn’t Taylor Hanson either.)
Oh right, so I can’t remember how, probably because I was busy counting stitches while I was knittng my boyfriend a royal purple pair of pants and matching vest, but Cruisy and his best homie manage to hold a meeting with Hitler, and place the bomb strategically under a desk. Apparently they planned this very carefully. And it was failsafe too, kinda like of like the plan I had when I was 16 to — oh, nevermind. The bomb blew up, thankfully Popeye got out of there in a timely manner lest he lose another eye. He got the reserve army ready, wanted them to start uprising… or something.
But wait, oh wait, what’s that? Hitler’s not dead. He didn’t die… or did he?
Yes he is! How could he survive a bomb of that calibre going off right in his face?
He totally got the dead, I told myself. Tom was busy telling everyone else that too, and if I know my Tom Cruise like I think I do, which clearly I do; I know he’d never lie. I have no reason to distrust this man.
But wait a little gosh darn second now, doesn’t this conflict with history as I know it? And if I know my history like I might have done if I studied it back in 1997… well then, I couldn’t be wrong either. I said to myself, I said “Selfy, didn’t Hitler do himself in?” Of course I would never lie to me…
Tom Cruise, you lying bastard!
Hitler was not only a tyrant, a mass murderer, a beholder of just one testicle and a maniac, but he also had the strength of a super hero. He survived with just a cut and a bruise.
And boy oh boy, weren’t Tom Cruise and his homies in trouble.
They all got shot in the head and became another tally beside the other 15 attempts of Hitler’s assassination. Seriously, with those odds, I’m suprised even Hitler was successful.
And it ended. What an epic fail from all aspects. 
And the take home message I want to leave you all with is this; Tom Cruise is a filthy, dirty liar and Oprah Winfrey makes me mad.

Um excuse me, only the best weekend ever.

I would like to preface this post by saying Christina Perri’s album is fracking great… What does this have to do with my great weekend, you might ask? Well… short answer … nothing. And also? .. that’s the long answer.

I had a really anxiety-ridden week. I had so much on (still do) and procrastinated my way through it, of course and neglected my studies and neglected work and neglected everything by telling myself I needed to relax… I was excited when Friday came around, I had a client meeting in Melbourne for a design job which was great and then I took a train out to meet up with C. and Jai for her birthday weekend! … Seriously, I rarely get out and about these days so when I have company it’s always really exciting — even more so when I’m in the company of these two… when we all hang out, it’s like the time that I discovered awesome all over again!

We went to a Mexican restaurant and ate ourselves stupid. We went to this fantastic chocolate tour on saturday morning and… ate ourselves stupid. I’m not a huge chocolate eater these days, but it reminded me why I wanted to live in Roald Dahl’s chocolate factory when I was a kid (cough,lastweek,cough) we tried truffles, macoroons, chocolate shots, ice cream and other stuff I think that I can’t remember. We had full bellies and came back to our hotel. What do you do when three tummies collectively begin to cramp up?

You eat more. We went to a Sushi train. Sushi Train is a funny, funny thing… No seriously, I sit and laugh at the idea for hours in my alone time… No, not really. Though, sometimes I wish I could change the route and direct that train right in to my mouth that will be waiting open at the end. TOOT FRIGGIN TOOT, my friends. Between us we all had 7 plates… I love sushi, If I were Oprah (and thank goodness I’m not) it would be one of my favourite things. Apparently that wasn’t enough though because we started searching for dessert venues … I’m not sure what street it was, but we got accosted by every single person outside trying the hardsell of their menu. It made me remember Thailand and not being able to walk through a strip of shops without being flattered, accosted or sometimes outright pulled in by the arm. It was a little funny, a little uncomfortable, a little weird… in the end we got bubble tea and chips and went back to the hotel.

And… we all writhed around in bed nursing our respective cramps.

On Sunday we went for breakfast, I’m guessing we all felt a little rough — we all parted ways which was of course such sweet sorrow but a tentative date with Jai for Eureka Skydeck and some interstate travels. Exciting days!

I met with my snotty friend Megan for a chat and a walk about and finally got that bag I’ve been coveting forever since I saw how lovely and light Jai’s was. Megan and I hung out for awhile and then I met with another someone lovely for the afternoon into the evening. We had Nandos (where I insisted that every speck of food must be gone lest it be taken home and consumed as every meal until it’s finished. It’s a personal rule. :P) we went for coffee and then a grocery shop through coles until I had to sadly go home since my paid jobby job resumes.

I have not had a better weekend in … honestly, so, so, so long. I will post some photographs maybe tomorrow or the day after. Tomorrow I am visiting my bestfriend who is coming to Melbourne for the week. I haven’t seen her in three or four weeks and she shall be bringing me le ipod that I lost when I was in Sydney last.

Best. weekend. Ever.

Dear John – Movies Without Pity

I sat down to watch this lovely, romantic movie that a friend suggested to me. I snorted at the premise that was explained to me. I hate romance, I definitely don’t often lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about my perfect white wedding to Jesse L. Martin. Never-the-less, I committed myself  to watching the movie. In hindsight, it probably would have been less pain and heart-ache had I committed myself to a sanatorium of sorts. This. Movie. Made. Me. Want. To. Hurt. Myself.

As if it wasn’t doomed from the beginning – John is in the army and he is narrating something which would be pointless if got the dead, but he was shot. He talks about how the first thought before he got taken down was coins and a trip he went to a coin making factory. I hope the last thought that I have, should I ever get shot, would be the time I went to the life education centre and Billy Westwood pointed to Tammy-The-Human-Body’s vagina when an instructor asked him to point to her heart.

But, I digress. John says his second last thought was her. Forgive me, but I can’t exactly remember what her name was, maybe I lost interest before she was properly introduced. Hey, it’s possible. I have a lot of belly lint- which, actually could adequately confirm my theory that I am in fact full of stuffing and not sub-par internal organs…

So the movie kicks off when he, a special forces soldier saves the chick’s purse after some bumbling goober knocks it in to the water from the jetty. He jumps in like a boss and saves it before the goober can run around and get it. She, Savannah (I just looked it up) instantly falls in love with him. John is on a 2 week army leave and it apparently only takes 2 weeks to know that you wanna spend your life with someone… Again, similarly to How Stella Got Her Groove Back, they move pretty quickly – apparently that’s the done thing in these films. Terribly realistic and all.

So she meets his Dad who is clearly autistic and is obsessed with coins and collecting them. I think it was supposed to be inferred somewhere that it had driven a wedge between him and his Dad, but it fell flat. She addresses the elephant in the room by telling John she wants to work with Autistic children. John gets upset and punches out her Dad’s friend who has an autistic son.

The guy forgives him cos he’s such a gentle lover-not-a-fighter type. John promises Savannah that he only has one year left of military and then he’ll be out and they can start their life together but in the meantime they should totally write letters old fashioned style. How fun. So they get to know each other by sharing completely family-friendly letters, after all this is a terrible Nicholas Sparks movie. So they do, they are totally in love having spent only 2 weeks of their entire lives together.

And so September 11 happens and his whole team decide to sign up for another 2 years and he hates Savannah and thinks that she’s an ugly mole and can’t figure out any other escape route out of this hellish relationship that he has involved himself in and feels trapped so agrees to as well he goes home for one night and meets her family and it comes out that he’s signed up for another two years. They have a fight, it ends okay. He goes back to the Army.

Then the bitch stops replying to his letters and for ages he gets nothing and he keeps writing anyway, like a fool… this is much different to the times when I call my friends and they get back to me instantly. And by friends, I may mean posters. And by call, I may mean mental telepathy, because the unreturned calls made him look completely foolish. So one day she finally gets back to him and I suspect it was a bad letter cos he goes and burns everything and when a guy asked him if he was okay he tells the soldier his gf broke up with him. And makes some mention about her getting engaged to someone else.

What?! What the hoo-friggin-ha?! It came out of left-field – and there was no explaination offered, either – so I wasn’t sure if John was lying to have his friend shut up about working it out – until of course, John gets shot in Afghanistan and we speed up to where the movie began.

He survives somehow, which is odd considering he was shot several times by a semi-automatic rifle. So then he wants to go back to fight but they send him home cos his autistic Dad is about to die. As if the past 45 minutes of the movie was tragic enough. So he goes home and writes a letter to his dad but sits and reads it to him and spends a few minutes trying not to break down.

John’s Dad dies and then he goes to visit Savannah, I guess about 5 yrs has passed. He goes to her house then it is revealed that she married the dude with the autistic kid who actually was more like her father-figure. He now has terminal cancer and is about to die.

Is it just me, or does Nicholas Sparks absolutely hate everybody in the world and want to suck the life, the tears, the happiness and the enjoyment out of any fantasy in the world? How is it that in EVERY imaginative fantasy world he creates, everybody loses… Dude, it’s fantasy, that’s the greatness of it – it doesn’t have to suck, no one has to die. People that were in love could have stayed in love! Clearly, you dickbag, you know about the suspension of reality since two of your last characters in your equally awful film, The Notebook died in unison (but again it wasn’t a positive fantasy, which is … the most ridiculous and unrealistic thing that could have ever happened) so why didn’t you apply it here? What is wrong with you? If I ever meet you, Nicholas Sparks, I’m going to kick you repeatedly in the nut-sack for the trauma you has caused me in passing years over your misunderstanding of the basic premise of fantasty.

Idiot.

John takes it unrealistically well, in fact he visits the douche bag in the hospital and doesn’t even attempt to ‘help him along’ (umm in a euthanasia sense, let’s clarify) and he goes to have dinner afterward with Savannah where she tells him she wants to try some kind of treatment to keep the douche alive longer but it costs lots of money.

John goes and sells his Dads coin collection and gives the money to the husband and he lives for like a month longer and then gets really dead. And then John goes home and he and Savannah hug and the credits roll up.

AND I JUST WASTED ABOUT ONE AND A HALF HOURS OF MY LIFE ON THIS PILE OF SHIT.

I hated this movie. I hate it possibly more than I hate the notebook. Maybe someone can sit Sparks down and explain to him about the reasons as to why people watch movies – because life already sucks and they want to escape from it to a place where they feel happier and detached from that hideousness of reality because clearly this sadistic bastard just paces his house thinking up new stories to make people feel like vomiting from the trauma that is his books/films.

I did have a rating system, but I diffused it for this movie since I was afraid that the movie may have caused it to spontaneously combust with general awfulness.

If you liked this movie I’d like to punch you.

3 Things That Will Make Me Walk Away…

Look, I’m no expert on what every woman wants and I’m the first to admit that a lot of women have some seriously flawed logic and values when it comes to the ways in which they allow themselves to be treated (myself included; hey you know, it was totally a sign that he was playing hard-to-get when I received that fiery red, ‘impact’ font letter saying; RESTRAINING ORDER!!! I know how to play this game, he loves to be chased! …and so on and so forth!). Though, I think I can speak for a large part of my social circle (shut up, my Batman plushie, Carebear and Peter Pan doll do count as my social circle) when I say that a lot of men seem to also have flawed ideas of what makes a girl fall for him.

I went on a date with this guy once.

…Yep, it was just once.

It was a one-time affair not because he had an instant charm that had me vying for a roll in the hay (oh baby, please tell me more about the time you bedded 6 girls from your work place… such a turn on!)…No, it was because I was so repulsed by everything he said and did that I felt as though I needed to come home and douse my entire body in methylated spirits and scrub myself with steel wool to get rid of the hideousness that was our date.

What I’ve found is that, most guys dip in to a bag of clichés of things that they think girls want to hear or what they think are going to impress us. I have a list of three things that are an instant “see you later, sucka” alarm for me. The first is this;

“Oh, I’m not like other guys.”

Oh, excuse me while I finish laughing at your cliché like it’s the end of a He-Man, Master’s Of the Universe episode where I, indeed have the power. If you’re not like other guys, I’m not like Pinocchio and my nose is also not growing. Just what the shit does that even mean anyway? It’s such an ambiguous statement. Are you not like other guys in that, you turn in to a werewolf on a full moon a la Michael Jackson’s Thriller right after he asks that dopey, scream-y broad to ‘be his girl’? Do you have a third nipple? Are you not like other guys so much so that you’re actually not a guy? Or are you trying to just be smooth, “Oh, ha… I’m totally not going to attach myself to you like a sniper’s crosshair and take advantage of your insecurities and your longing to be loved and completely and utterly ruin your life by allowing you to find me in our bed years later with someone much younger, vibrant and clearly more beautiful than you!” Yeah right… I think if you’re purporting to be a little off-centre or more reliable than the next douche bag sitting by your side, you could prove it without using the same line that that exact douche bag just used on that unsuspecting bird 10 minutes ago. Most logical, intelligent women are on to you – after all, all those other guys have used this line on us before.

“I’ll never hurt you…I promise.” Hahahahaha. I hate thinly veiled or empty promises. I live by the rule that I should never make promises that I can’t keep. That promise has been made to me on numerous occasions… And in hindsight I laugh because even though it may have made me feel giddy at the time, it now makes me a little bashful about my naiveté. Thank goodness we live and we learn and realise how full of shit some people are. If someone ever makes this promise, prospective significant other, new friend, man in a van offering you candy – run the other way. What if you’re hanging out with this person and they accidentally step on your foot in a pair of soccer boots that they wear for general fashion? Um… ouch! Promise broken! … See, can’t trust anyone these days…And if they’re just stomping around without discrimination in a pair of ugly soccer boots, why would you want to be with them?… even though that almost never happens, but alas, I digress.

“I love you” … Alright, so maybe girls love to hear this… but one particular guy tried to tell me he was falling in love with me before we even really hung out properly and quite honestly, it made me want to bolt in the other direction. Maybe I’m cynical, but if someone tells me they love me within a few weeks of hanging out, or after they’ve taken me out a few times, alarm bells go off. I would start to doubt their sincerity and if I doubt their sincerity then I am about to start doubting the entire thing. Sometimes I balk at how quick some relationships go – and how prematurely some people start exchanging I love you’s and the pet names and future plans – oh hello, what was your name again, you see I was too busy moving my furniture in to your house to ask…

Basically most sane, personality-issue-free women want communication; a man who isn’t afraid to have conversations, either fun or serious and who will confront an issue rather than pretending everything is okay. Women also want someone who is not afraid to be affectionate without being a sleaze bag. Oh and hey, perversion or constant sexual connotations are usually taken with a lot of discomfort until you actually know her really, really well – maybe I’m a prude who is destined to live with 6 cats and a dog for being so uptight, but I don’t care. Oh and by ‘most sane, personality-issue-free women’ I think I meant, ‘most lonely, uptight, quietly insane women’ … and I think by ‘women’, I think I meant me. The secret is, most ‘women’ want to be treated like a princess which doesn’t mean one has to flash his money around and lavish her, but – with respect, honesty, compassion and understanding that usually the logical, easy-going women can very readily and easily return.

From my own observations, a lot of people allow themselves to be treated without these things, they become a fool for someone who quite frankly couldn’t give a toss about offering anything them anything in return for their unconditional love.

Essentially love is hard thing to find, if it were so easy to find, half of the world wouldn’t spend their lives searching for it. It shouldn’t be something that people just give away to someone who seems ‘good enough’ …and it is certainly too precious to be spent on someone who doesn’t return it – or the Michael Jackson posters that may or not be on the wall of most sane, personality-issue-free women’s walls.

5 Moments That Will Make You Cringe Possibly For Your Entire Life.

So hey, you know those moments where you do something that makes you feel really embarrassed? How do you handle them? Do they keep you up at night? I was thinking about this earlier because I can think of an instance where I still shudder and my conscience still brings it up with me when I’m contemplating belly lint or trying to study astrophysics (haha, just kidding, I totally don’t contemplate my belly lint, that part was a total lie). Here are 5 moments that you always want to gloss over, but you can’t because for some hideous reason, it’s been emblazoned in to your memory bank even forgoing the memory of what you did with your jury-duty bill that you received 2 weeks ago; or what safe-place it was that you put that those family heirlooms… but I digress.

 

1. Spit in my eye, fantastic!

Someone important has asked you a question. It’s that hot guy, future boss, someone you want to make an impression on – or who knows? Just… someone that you’re actually bothering to put on some airs and graces for. You’re looking great, you sound like you are really funny, witty, cool, intelligent. You flip your hair over your shoulder as you’re speaking – wow, man, you have never ever looked so cool. Shit, you’ve never been cool, but this is your moment, you are shining. You laugh at all the right moments, you are apparently saying all the right things — no one has ever found your tangents about Playstation3 Vs Xbox360 this interesting before. No that face the person is making in front of you isn’t disgust, they’re just gassy, it happens, don’t let it blow your confidence, you’re a friggin’ rocksta—oh great.

You can see it, they can feel it. Both of your eyes fleetingly, almost slyly meet at the same spot – that tiny little bauble of spittle that rests delicately upon their cheek. It flew out of your mouth, such a tiny little bauble, but if it had a sound effect, it would be in cinema sound. It’d sound like that big moment in Pearl Harbor… And now there’s awkwardness. What do you do, you ask yourself? Keep talking, no don’t keep talking, if you keep talking you’ll lose your train of thought because your conscience will be too busy screaming YOU SPAT ON HIM!!!!!!!!! … Do you acknowledge it? Yes. No. Maybe. “OH GOD, I DONT KNOW; I JUST SPAT ON HIM!!!!” …Before you get to make your choice, said person of interest very subtly brushes your delicate piece of spittle away, as if it was an unwanted kiss, if you will… And you bumble your way through the rest of the conversation until it dies. And then when for the next hour all you can think about is how you spat on that guy over there, yep, the one keeping his distance. And you know what? All he can think of is that horrible, awkward hideous moment where he got spat on by some random.

And you’ll still be thinking about it when you go to bed at night. And at other random intervals… And probably still in 20 years time when you’re caressing the back of your white cat and planning to launch a counterattack on society for being ever-so cruel to you.

 

2. You just fell for me.

Oh yeah, this will make you feel like a real dick. There are all types of trips you can take – and I’m unfortunately not talking about the holidaying kind. I’m talking about the kind where you hurt your ankle like a bitch and humiliate yourself in the process and leave people giggling under their breath – or if you are around a bunch of arseholes, probably they’ll be less discreet at laughing at your misfortune.

Sometimes gravity just loves to play a little trick on you – and by some, almost supernatural, unexplained force you almost meet the ground, but you don’t. Instead, you stumble just a few steps. Unless of course, it’s one of those comedy of stumbles where you trip about five times will trying to regather your balance, self-esteem that has just taken a massive hit from your own inability to well, walk. You fail epically, but… you try to convince everyone else around you after you have both feet back on the ground that nothing happened and that you are indeed graceful, yup, like a friggin’ swan. You are red-faced and your toe is sore and so is your ego, but you hold your head high and keep on without making eye contact with any other person for fear that they will be laughing in your face.

And they are, you know, some a little more quietly than others, but some overt and unashamed. The harder the fall, the harder the laugh, the more bruised the ego becomes. And if the fall actually causes people to ask if you’re okay, you try to convince them you are. It could be that you are bleeding from 12 places, but still you convince them with a smile on your face, “Oh that, no, no, no… I had this gash on my forehead before I fell over. Haha, yes! I also had a wrist that was facing the wrong way and only one shoe… Thanks though!”

And after you’ve dragged yourself out of hospital getting stitched up and you’re comfortable in bed, your conscience is still haunting you about how all those people laughed at you and you looked like the world’s biggest dickhead for falling on that tiny little step in the curb.

You know what? Those people are probably still laughing at you for your stupidity each time they think of it. People revel in your misfortune.

 

3. Kodak moment.

You have this really super funny story that may possibly be a little inappropriate – or maybe it’s a naughty limerick or a little ditty that you found wildly hilarious and you want – nay, need, to share it with a group of people because then they’ll finally see you for the fantastic, witty hilarious chap that you clearly are. So you share it, you go in to great detail, you use arm gestures, going for the gusto! You are animated, charismatic you add just the right element of suspense to keep everybody hanging on to your every, interesting, riveting word – shit, all you are missing is a campfire and marshmallows roasting on sticks. And you get to the point of the story and it is met with an awkward exchange of looks.

… Well. You were not banking on that reaction. What reaction, you are asking? Exactly.

Worse than no reaction at all, is that moment where you realised that your story/joke/dirty limerick offended everybody horribly. At least in the case of silence, you can console yourself that your humour is just way too sophisticated for most of your insufferable peers to get. When people are offended, you go in to damage-control – if there is such thing. Generally after telling everybody about the hilarious time you tied your dog and cat together in a perfectly ventilated area in hopes that they’d get bored and create a miracle hybrid of animal, there’s not much you can say to take it back… Don’t ask me how I know that, just trust me.

You can always get away with it by justifying to everyone else that it was just a Kodak moment in that, you just had to be there to see the funny side of it! Surely when your conscience eats at you every night for the next month about it, will be reminder enough what mistakes not to make a second time!

 

4. So good to see you.

You see someone who you know a little bit. Maybe you’ve met a few times but don’t quite consider yourself their friend yet… and you see them and you’re happy to see them – you figure you could approach them and make up share some gossip important and detailed information with them that may make them like you more. And then they start waving at you frantically with a big grin, and it’s unexpected but you are really happy because wow, clearly you made such an impact on them despite the fact that you spat on them back a little while ago… So you start waving frantically back, almost, dare I say? Euphoric with joy! You make a beeline to that person and are right about to say hello enthusiastically like an excitable puppy when you realise you actually – OH NO… you turn around behind you, you look to the person standing almost directly behind you and you realise, oh shit… nope, it wasn’t you they were waving at.

And the worst part? They realised at the same time that you thought they were waving at you. Well, well, isn’t this an awkward little moment for everybody involved that shall haunt not only you, but the other parties involved probably for about…ever.

 

5. “What do you think?”

You are shopping with a friend and you’re looking at something, probably a book or a DVD knowing you. You are reading the back of it and you start talking to your friend, asking her educated opinion on the matters of Batman vs Superman (not that you need her opinion, clearly Batman is the winner here) and you realise that wily bitch isn’t so much walking as she is, edging away slowly almost embarrassed. You realise the 6ft man that is quietly making an exit is not in fact just your suddenly matronly-looking friend. Your friend is too busy standing by an aisle not too far away laughing behind her hand at your own stupidity.

Or worse, when the person doesn’t edge away and they let you realise that it’s not the person that you think it is and they smile almost patronisingly, as if they could never make such an easy mistake.

What’s even worse than that is when said stranger starts speaking to you back and it’s one of those socially inappropriate types that you can’t get away from which makes real friend laugh even harder so that not only your conscience can taunt you later on, but now she can too…

 

Share your embarrassing moments that you can still think of that have happened long, long ago though your conscience still makes you feel like an idiot for it, come on, be brave… I just shared all of mine.

Review 1 – So how DID Stella get her groove back?

Movies Without Pity – How Stella Got Her Groove Back

Look, I’m 27 years old. I’ve never had a midlife crisis, although I did recently work myself up in to a blind-fury after thinking that somebody in my household ate my block of marble chocolate, so I’m pretty sure that I have a fairly good idea what it would feel like.

Firstly, I’d like to know at what point Stella lost her groove because she seemed to be doing pretty great working in finance barking orders down her headpiece that would make Madonna jealous while pacing the office like she had somewhere to be, not dissimilar to what my cat does all the doo-dah frigging day. Although granted, he is a very busy puss-cat.

So Stella is played by Angela Bassett who basically is one of the most annoying actresses ever. I can never picture her as anything but Katherine Jackson of the Jackson’s American Dream movie yelling angrily in the dark of the night, “GO’DA BED JOE. GO. TO. BED!” Also, she has a punchable face when she seems mad. That aside, she apparently lost her groove somewhere but it wasn’t very clear when that happened. Personally, I think her groove packed its bags and left her, because if I know Stella like I think I do since the end of this movie, I would have ditched her too.

She calls up her skanky friend who is played by Whoopi Goldberg. They decide to go to Jamaica for the week while her son is off with his Dad. She meets Winston Shakespeare and if that’s not a Pornstar’s name, I don’t know what is… Winston is played by Taye Diggs who is alright by me. He plays a 20 year old kid who basically wants to bed her…

Well, come on, it’s not like he saw her and thought, “My what a sexy brain may be under that sweaty cranium.” He’s 20. He wants to have sex. But oh no, oh no, no, no, no, no… Winston chats her up. She laughs in his face over the age difference like a cruel cow, you see she’s 40 and old enough to be his mother and apparently so much better than him because of her skyrocketing age. Though she looks good for 40, her skanky friend on the other hand, she looks her age and is happy hooking up with two super gross older men – more suitable to Stella’s age.

Forgive me, but Stella comes across as more of an uptight bitch. Half of the time she’s out right mean when she isn’t playing the “I’m-so-much-better-than-you” game with her friend. She’s mean to the Shakespeare kid who clearly just wants to hit it… and finally she decides, “Ah what the shit” (yeah that was the exact script.) and she ditches Whoopi to go to some seedy pajama party with Winston. See? What a bitch. Only bitches ditch friends. (I hope you are taking notes, my dear friends. I don’t like pikers!!! Or Angela Bassett.)

The party turns in to some odd masquerade orgy where I saw a lot more skin than I needed to at 10:30pm while eating 3 pieces of KFC chicken before a huge exam in the morning—but I digress, guess I got bored talking about Stella and just wanted to talk about me.

So yeah, they start doing the sex. Yes, I did just call it ‘the sex’. That’s what they do. She’s hot and cold, she’s nice and she’s a bitch, then she’s super sweet but then she’s a bitch again. Kid had to take a job so she was all cold and acted like they were married their whole lives and he’d just insulted her mother and kicked her dog. So she left Jamaica without seeing him.

She gets home, her mean sister gives her shit about having an affair with a 20 year old. Her stereotypical annoying, tacky sister just wants the juicy details – oh and also, to borrow some money. Stella loses her job cos she was busy humpin’ around in the words of Mr Bobby Brown.

But ahhh, there’s a twist. Whoopi gave Winston her number. Might I like to stop and add here that the second Taye Digg’s opened his mouth in this movie and let an almost heretic Jamaican accent slip out, I wanted to shove my hands through a meat grinder. Quite frankly, it would have been less painful than listening to that mess. Blech…

So he finally calls Stell. She acts like 15 yr old girl and starts squealing and shit. She, after telling her poor son she cant take him to Jamaica cos they are too broke, decides to take her son, his cousin and her old arse back to Jamaica to see Winston cos she now wants to do The Sex. Seriously, not only is she a shit friend and a grand-cougar, but she’s also a bad Mom. Oh okaaaay, can’t afford to give your son a holiday, but if your boyfriend is involved then cool!

She has to meet Winston’s Mama who calls her a terrible specimen of the human race who should be flung by human catapult in to a brickwall with spikes as a substitute for the Friday Night Football…Well, something to that effect anyway… So obviously she has a hissy fit for the 155th time already in the movie (no honestly, I’ve counted) and she and Winston have a fight and she gets that annoying punchable face back… Like when in the Jackson’s movie she found out Joe was cheating on her and she went batshit crazy on him.

So in the process Delilah (her bestfriend) finds out she has cancer and is on her last legs so Stella goes rushing home and strangely enough has no remorse about being a horrible friend back in Jamaica. Stella also has no remorse for not asking Delilah how she was, each time the super friend called to check if sex was still good with the Jamaican kid, constantly confirming for Stella that she should continue hitting it for as long as she damn well pleases. Had Stella not been so entirely self-involved in looking for her groove and focused more time on being a better friend, Delilah’s sickness may not have been such a shock, I mean, I picked it when Delilah was over-tired and run down back in the beginning of the movie and I wasn’t even her bestie! But hey, we’ve established Stella is a jerk already. BAD FRIEND.

So Winston turns up at the funeral to loan his penis — er, support to Stella. Everything’s peachy, everybody keeps ignoring the fact that a 20 year old is.. COME ON, WTF MAN… 20 YEARS OLD!!! It’s like a giant pink elephant in the corner of the room. If the person who wrote this movie wanted it to be even in the least bit believable they could have given him a more respectable age!!!!!!! It’s just all so bloody ridiculous!

So he lives with her for awhile and soon it becomes a strain because he eats cereal all day long, plays video games with her son, rents terrible movies and doesn’t take out the trash. (Hang on, this is sounding dangerously close to what I do with my time…?) He wants to pay for dinner, she gets attitude, tells him to pay the mortgage. They have a fight… Taye Diggs is hot, he should come to my place… I’d be nice. I’d let him pay for dinner.

So he builds her a huge furniture shop in her shed (um the other elephant in the room is how this povo Jamaican kid accumulated the funds to do this? I think in one scene I saw him rob Stella’s purse… I could be wrong but… I’m about 99.9% sure so…). She reckon’s she’s good at building it. Hey, I reckon I’m good at singing too, doesn’t mean someone should indulge it and build me a friggin’ studio… but anyway, he proposes to her. I’ve worked this out right, she spent one week in Jamaica, she went back for a second week or so – and then he’s spent what? Like a month or so in the U.S.A?

Dumb.

Only celebrities and bogans (chavs or hillbillies, whatever is local slang for low rent in your country) get married that fast.

She tells him she wants to say yes, but she has to wait.

2 weeks later she still hasn’t given him an answer so he spazzes out and they have a huge fight.

So then there’s this big scene. The scene is entirely cheesy but there is one moment that is the entire saving grace of the movie – the only moment that made the whole thing bearable. Like every Friday in 4th grade when we had a maths quiz and I used to rub out my answers as we went and marked them to perpetrate that I’d had the correct answer all along so I could advance to the “fab four” elite maths group – (which then had to become the fab five after my shifty entrance) … Oh wait, sorry, guess that’s just another story about me.

OH right, the saving grace. Okay yeah, so Winston has a shower and you get to see his ass. And it’s a really, really good ass. I’m not exactly an ass girl, but I can appreciate a very good ass. And this, my friends was a great ass. Seriously, did you get that? It’s a great ass.

So yeah, there’s a super cheesy … sex in the shower… wow that’s never been done before. *yawn* which, might I add, they both looked a little silly… I don’t particularly want to watch people having sex while looking rather silly. So unnecessary. But hey, great ass, Taye. After, Winston realises she’s just a terrible person who clearly doesn’t deserve to even possess a groove let alone someone who has such a great ass, he tells her he’s leaving to go to Medical school.

Personally, I think it was just an excuse to get away from her, he probably wanted to go back to Jamaica to hang with his friends and chicks his own age and spark up a doobie and sing Bob Marley songs or whatever stereotypical thing Jamaicans do…

So there’s a bad storm on the way to the airport and traffic was so bad that he couldn’t make his plane… somehow Stella got there before him though… And they meet at the escalator and she tells him to consider an American college.

And oh yeah, she accepts his proposal.

And then the movie ends. Best they ended it where they did because I’m pretty sure they would have broken up within the week.

All in all? I now know that all it takes to get your groove back is a boyfriend that is way too young for you. Well, at least that’s how Stella got her groove back and to be honest, I found her method underwhelming… but maybe they could make a sequel and call it, “How Taye Diggs got his career back” … because if it wasn’t for that great ass, his Jamaican accent would have been truly unforgiveable.

So, out of 10 I’ll give this movie a 4/10 +1 point for the great ass.

5 reasons why some people with mobile / cellular phones should be punched.

I only know of one person (under the age of around 65 and over the age of 12) who does not possess a mobile phone. I am not against the use of mobile phones having fallen in the Gen Y age group, being a teenager in the late 90s when it became cool and ‘imperative’ for every kid my age to have his or her own phone. The truth is, mobile / cellular phones are actually an abomination, nay, a black spot, if you will on society. Okay, maybe that’s being a bit too dramatic, but honestly – sometimes I want to punch people in the face when they leave the house with their phones. (I seem to want to punch people in the face a lot .. hmm, something might be in that.)

Here are some of the things that attribute to my happy resolve that some should be punched for leaving the house with their mobile phones.

1. The ol’e screaming-down-a-black-hole-for-signs-of-life, trick.

Why is it that when you are sitting on a train or a bus or, well… anywhere in public really — and someone, and it’s usually someone who is middle-aged that is the culperit, answers their phone. Firstly they’ll have a super obnoxious ring tone, usually something that is inappropriate for their age such as Akon’s ‘Smack Dat’, or Jason Derulo’s ‘Ridin’ Solo’. The second problem is the volume in which they will decide to speak. I’m not entirely sure if most people are aware of how loud they are talking; or if they do it just because they think everyone else wants to hear their inane, bullshit conversations. Never-the-less, they go about their business, usually displaying their stupid verbal spewings for anyone within a 10m radius to hear … and then the phone call will drop out.

The offender can’t then just accept that they’ve lost service and hang up and call back, but they will trail in circles, bopping their dumb head around like bo-bo the clown trying to gain service again. When that doesn’t work, the offender grabs his or her phone and usually holds it in front of them as though its a glowing crystal ball that they can see the future in, or at least, what the other person might be doing and they start raising their already-treacherously-loud voice in to, “HELLO!?” …. Silence, “HELLO??? ARE YOU THERE???” clearly nobody is there. “HELLO!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME? YOU’RE DROPPING OUT ON ME!” and it goes on as though they are a bogan version of Jack Shephard looking for signs of life down the dastardly hatch or Timmy O’Toole stuck down the well. “MATE, HELLO!?” Equivalent to and as urgent as someone falling down a gaping chasm. Eventually, they either hang up and call back, or the person’s phone gives them an awful fright as the phone has already disconnected the call and they have called back and the obnoxious ring tone comes screaming out to further annoy people.

2. You don’t deserve my undivided attention while I’m ordering food/buying clothes/other, you lowly sales assistant / cafe / restaurant / other scum, can’t you see I’m busy chatting on the phone which is clearly more important than paying for my products / produce?

Perhaps this little gem bothers me so much as I have been on the receiving end of it in my past two jobs. It is extremely rude of anyone to come to the counter, order food with such an absence and air of importance while they are too busy tending to phone call that is clearly able to wait. I am not an unfair person, I understand that sometimes it’s impossible to dodge a call, but it takes 5 seconds to ask your friend to wait 30seconds or to call them back in a few moments. If the call is just so important that you cannot do the aforementioned, then stand aside, let other people order and wait til you are done! It’s not rocket science. It’s almost embarrassing when someone is too busy talking on the phone and regards you with very little of their attention when you are trying to take an accurate order. “I’ll have sandwich with 12 types of salad.” The person goes back to blabbing on the phone, extending an amount of cash that will well and truly cover it, and turns their body outward so you can’t even make gestures to ensure you have the order correctly. Questions like, What kind of bread would you like? Do you want me to wrap it up for you to take away, or would you prefer to eat here? Could I take a name for your order? If they hand me a card, do you want credit, savings or cheque, do you want to use a PIN or sign? Would you like a receipt?  … None of these things get answered, and it is especially annoying when you can hear that the only conversation that is happening is an exorbitantly inconsequential one. And guess who is to blame if order is not what they wanted? Seriously, just piss off to the end of the line til you’re done with your gossipy, banal phone crap.

3. So you think you’re a model because you took 6 photos of yourself from a strategic-angle with high-contrast on your crappy. low-res, hand-me-down Nokia from Mum or Dad and uploaded it to the social network of your choice.

In this case, I don’t want to punch the poor victim of parental stupidity, but the parents themselves for thinking their child is responsible enough for both a mobile phone with social networking features and a social networking account. Generally these photos are taken shamelessly in scanty clothing and either in a room that has way too much light or not enough. The lighting does just the trick for a super sexy pose. Usually you see gaggles of teen girls gathering way too many people in to one tiny little camera space while posing with duck faces, shocked expressions, trout pouts, or an embarrassingly awkward come-hither look. They upload these photos using the internet feature that comes with their premature phone plans, photoshop them up (albeit badly) and add some ‘sentimental’ lyrics on them. And of course, their 29382034 nearest and dearest contacts will be quick to comment on just how “smexxxi” they are, hence said youngster sits on the phone for hours rummaging through the comments vaguely dismissing the compliments as “totez lies.”

4. Oh yeah your iphone is fantastic and I’m so glad that it allows you the opportunity to play your phat beatz at a volume that bothers everyone else who is sitting in the same train carriage as us, I always believed that earphones were a completely redundant and silly invention.

I like a lot of different styles of music. I like listening to it on a train on my ipod. I like listening to it loudly too, with my earphones in. And you know why I choose to wear those filthy little wax collectors? Because it’s the right thing to do. Listen up, homeboy — or gangsta-wannabe bogan (your choice), just because you want to hear your crappy array of Souljah Boy or doof-doof music, doesn’t mean that every single other person does as well. No one cares about your music taste, no one thinks you’re just that little bit cooler for it, if anything everyone just thinks that you are an inconsiderate turd with serious try-hard tendencies. Plug in your headset, or turn the music off — we all hope your battery will go flat in the meantime.

5. Talking on the mobile phone is the safest thing that you can do while driving, right? RIGHT?!

I’ve been an offender in the past, I have to be honest — but the past is the past. The amount of accidents that occur due to people too busy yakking away on their phones are too many to count (or I just can’t be arsed finding a statistic, so I’ll jazz up my sentence with a something poetic). Just recently, I have had a couple of situations where someone has verbally abused the absolute crap out of me due to their own inability to watch the road while they have been talking on the phone. You know those idiots, the ones that scrounge around the passenger seat through their handbags or piles of crap looking for their phone and merging involuntarily in to the next lane nearly taking out another car because the. phone. call. is. just. so. im.port.ant!!! A moron woman pulled right out in front of me just last week with great hesitance and even stopped halfway in the middle of the road when she realised she was in the wrong and continued to hesitate. Lucky for her, I pre-empted it as I could see from a mile away that she was on the phone (yes, an entire mile, my eyesight is bionic, shut up). When I shook my head at her she began to abuse me, she tooted her horn shook her fist, made penis gestures at her forehead (seriously, is that supposed to make me feel silly? You’re the one who is thumping yourself in the forehead with a fist, you dolt) and eventually she gave me the finger and drove off in a rage the whole time still talking on the phone. No phone call is so important that it can’t wait five seconds, and if you feel that it is, pull over. And don’t tell the police to ‘go and catch real criminals’ when you get the mother of all fines because of it. (Brilliant segue for my next post, police who get a rough time for enforcing the law)

And with my 5 reasons listed, I am curious to know — what are your mobile / cellular phone gripes? Leave a comment below, or, you know the drill, I’ll punch you. 🙂

For something new and different.

Nobody likes unwanted attention — hence why it’s called unwanted attention. If you liked it, I guess it would be called wanted attention. Apparently this makes me ungracious — but so what. Nobody likes someone constantly staring in their bedroom window to ‘check up’ on things when you’ve forgotten to draw the curtains. It’s creepy and weird, and unless you’re equally creepy, it’s not fun. It’s a hassle and can sometimes feel like security threat. Or … just the world’s biggest pain in the arse.

So that’s how things are going to start here. Me, whinging about the unfairness and the woe of it all — life sucking because someone keeps coming in to my life and throwing a metaphoric cream pie in my face.

Not always does it suck though, sometimes I really like my life. One day I hope to be able to walk around so happy that others feel nauseated and end up coming to the conclusion that I just have a truly punchable face…. One day – but not this day.

So, I also changed my phone number too, if you have it, I ask that you please never give it out to anyone under any circumstance without checking with me first. Unless of course there’s a really hot guy … or you come across a public toilet that is in need of graffitti in a place where you are sure that someone is in need of a good time…

I’m just kidding … sort of.

Get ready to read all about my wily ways here on my new blog. If you don’t comment, I will actually punch you; well, if I figure out a way to outsmart technology first.

And I will….

SHAZAYYYYM!