Recent Posts
I just started writing a post on how I have a complete inability to see the various cast members of Buffy and Angel as anyone but their character on these original shows.
My computer however does not support my nostalgia and lost 400 words. I feel it just doesn’t understand, what would it now about how strange it is to watch How I Met Your Mother and wonder about why Willow isn’t a Lesbian? To wonder why this awful TV show I am watching has Angel has a police officer (I think, it seems rather Angel like, except clearly, he can die and might have a soul) and there is an episode of Sex and The City where Buffy appears as a casting agent and I know plastic surgery in fact makes people look like they have never aged a day in their life, but I remain convinced they are not vampires.
There are very few TV shows I like. Very, very few. Occasionally, my mother hangs up on my friends because they called during Dr Who. Except mainly, I make fun of it and enjoy the nostalgia of being a child scared to death by the Darleks. And a child who used to say exterminate into fans to replicate their voice. Obviously, I had a death wish. have refused attempts to talk to people because Oz is on. I occasionally cry during Oz, while I’m not watching it through my fingers. Whenever anyone asks me about a good episode of TV, I describe one from Oz, that had no real music, few events and sounds rather lame when I say it aloud, but all I remember is a huge blood stain on a white sheet and I couldn’t speak for ten minutes after.
Angel is still looking mortally wounded in hospital. It shakes me.
But the point of this? Come on, fess up. What is that one actor you will never be able to separate from their character? The one TV show you wish would come out on DVD. Consider this your post to admit everything embarrassing about your nightly habits. The only time I will openly mock you is if you announce you like that show Hotdogs does on Channel 10.
I have exactly 24 minutes before Spicks and Specks, which is, in our household, a bonding moment between me and my mother, while we both try and beat the occasionally funny comedians who know nothing about music and accept our defeat against actual musicians.
I have decided I needed a general this is unimportant cultural discussion tag for this blog. Unimportant, cultural discussion that tries to be funny.
This blog entry also involves the occasional moment of violence.
I take my laptop to college most days. This has resulted in many jokes about how my computer must be a junkie, because it’s first outing from my house was to the suburb that is known as druggie central. I also take a lot of random things, because our classroom is often freezing cold in summer and of course, the reverse in winter and I have the inability to go most places without my notebook.
What this means is, I need a big bag.
On Sunday, I excelled myself with my big bag. I now carry a overnight bag. Every day. I’m sure I’m risking serious back pain, but there have been some added benefits to it.
Namely, when stupid people try and step on my feet on the train, or push me so they can fit in a crowded carriage where even the anorexic Olsen twin wouldn’t really fit, I have a weapon. Gone is the day of high ponytails, because that could be a rather effective whip. The 80s might be back, but some things we won’t repeat. There was also the leftover punk influences in Doc Martens, but they’re not so cool in the days of ballet flats. They could always be good for stamping on people’s feet. But no, in the modern indie world of just looking out of place, big bags are the best new accessory.
I think I look skinnier in comparison to my handbag, another plus.
On Monday morning, I actually had someone try and shoulder me out of the way so they could balance their petite handbag and latte (I have no proof it was a latte, the story sounds good though) and hold onto a pole. I am pleased to inform, with a half turn of my body, I was able to knock her down the stairs. Okay, that’s a lie, but she didn’t get the pole and I spent the trip in a quiet smug sort of satisfaction. It was a far better wake up call than caffeine.
A year in, I am finally understanding the urban jungle of peak hour trains.
Despite ideas to the contrary, I am not paid to stand in the store and write a lo-fi blog entry every few days. We have, however, reached the season when we are in the Christmas spirit (or, in the case of me and another coworker, in the Scrooge spirit) and everyone else is a little scared by the red and the lights and the carols I fought against. Of course, this everyone else does not include those freaks who had finished their Christmas shopping by the June sales.
Who, I ask, does this? Is there a strange genetic mutation amongst us that is compelled into a frenzy of retail organization? You know, just incase they miss the boat, amongst all the Crisco hamper ads and even more carols. Be afraid, except below I provide you with a fool proof list of who to avoid in the urban jungle of these strange people.
WAYS TO SPOT THOSE CHRISTMAS FREAKS
1. They are female. In a moment of masculine cliché, I have never even seen a gay man be this organized. Yes, clichés are fun to mock.
2. They are inevitably over 40. The exception to this is the young mothers who argue that having a child makes them love layby. This theory is entirely dispelled by the lines at Kmart a week before Christmas, when you only want to stop by and get some chocolate to prevent the insanity.
3. They, ironically or at least amusingly, despise layby. They spend a large amount and nearly always pay on (at least) a gold credit card. I like flashing around pretty colours too, but this concerns me. An example? A woman who told me her shopping was done in May, but announced she wouldn’t pay off the bill until February. I was a little perplexed.
4. They are always well dressed, often to disguise the inner freak. For further information, see that episode of Sex and the City (yes, there is a Sex and the City episode for everything.)
5. They are always strangely nicee, but superior. I have a feeling it is their psychic knowledge that on December 23, I will be buying the last of my presents after a 12 hour shift, while they are sipping on rather alcoholic drinks.
I will accept them as a group of people and I even hope they manage to breed, multiply until at least half the shopping population are under their control. Yes, this is selfish, for the following reasons.
1. Work might not be out of control insane the week before Christmas, easing the strain on my fragile mind.
2. I won’t need to wait in long lines while trying to do my own Christmas shopping, while wishing I could just perform a voodoo ceremony on whoever wrote Jingle Bells.
3. I won’t be hitting the first week of November, bored out f my mind and forced to write blog entries at work. And, in turn, boring the internet enmasse.
See, we come full circle.
POST SCRIPT TO YESTERDAY’S ENTRY
My Creative Player died last night. Clearly, it could not handle the stress of displaying the right time.
In most ways, the world has let itself down. It’s 2006, if we trust old school Hollywood and the entertainment industry, we should all be flying in hover cars now. I mean sure, if we trust the media now, we’re all going to die of germ warfare and terrorism at some point in the next two minutes (say your final goodbyes) but that’s not about how technology is taking over our lives. I’ve had mock serious conversations about how we’re never out of touch, serious conversations about the pressure this places on individuals and I am known for occasionally turning off my cell phone and ignoring the world as a mental health reliever. Every good philosopher wonders at the modern world and how machines are making us lazy.
This could be about that, but it’s not really. It is entirely light hearted and possibly only entertaining to myself. But you know, it sounds better when you include your ideas in the grand scheme of things
[ Click here to read more ]
I am knee-deep in a reality TV obsessive phase. This happens occasionally, mainly when Donald Trump is involved. I have flirted with Australian Idol (though the admission that I might have to one day buy an album by someone on there breaks my indie heart) and Big Brother could be good if they ever let it be natural.
My latest obsession is rather awkward. I preface this with
[ Click here to read more ]
This is one of those entries that has been inspired by a few minutes in front of music television. Now, I should only really have finished class half an hour ago, but I claim and artistic temperament and I just wasn’t in the mood, inspiration was at an all time low, so I didn’t bother. By 1pm, I shouldn’t really have managed to make a Drs appointment, watch too many episodes of America’s Next Top Model, get irritated with my cell phone reception AND do some uni work (aren’t there people in the world who do these whole things in weeks?) but I have.
And so, political commentary, because clearly what the TV is telling me to like is of dire importance to the running of the country
[ Click here to read more ]
Let’s play a game.
I don’t usually see the point in photoblogs. A picture tells a thousand words, of course, so by the end of this blog you will probably have read about 1500 words. That’s a novel, right there. So I shall keep witty commentary to a minimum
[ Click here to read more ]
|
|
|
Add Comments
Read More
Comments (1)
Comment by yourblackpumps
on How Sexy is Your Profession?
yourblackpumps