What ARE they doing?

I want to know if this happens to anyone else.

Sometimes I’ll send a message to a friend on Facebook regarding plans for a catch up or something.  Well, actually it’s usually regarding plans we’d planned to plan, but hadn’t actually planned anything except planning to message each other about planning to arrange plans.

It’ll be something like:

“Hiya. So what’s the plan for tomorrow then?  I was thinking we could head into town around 11am, and then go for lunch around 12:30 at Pizza Hut afterwards.  What do you think?”

Simple enough.

I don’t use ‘textspeak’ BCOZ I H8 IT WEN PPL TXT IT 2 ME TBH. FYI. LOL.

So I send it and wait to a) make sure it sends and b) see if they’ve read it.

Soon enough this icon pops up…

typing icon

…to show they’re typing a response.

Great; not only have they read it, they’re replying.

Then it disappears.

Eh?  Where did they go?  Did they decide not to reply after all?

It pops up again.

typing icon

Aha!  Maybe they got interrupted for a second.  It happens.

The icon sits there for a bit before it disappears again.

Maybe they don’t like my suggestion for tomorrow and are thinking about what they would prefer to do instead.  That’s fine with me, I’m pretty easy going; I’ll go with the flow.

typing icon

It’s back again.  They’ve thought about it and now they’re typing their counterproposal for tomorrow’s plans.  I’m sure whatever they suggest will be absolutely….

….oh wait, the icon has disappeared again.

Did they change their mind?  Are they now worried that I might be offended if they don’t go with my suggestion?

They don’t need to feel that way.  I’m happy with whatever we decide to do.  It’s really all about us catching up anyway, so we can do whatever they want.

typing icon

Or maybe they just stopped to think about how they wanted to compose their message and now they’ve found the words.

Sentence structure is important in a sentence that you’re typing on a text that you really want the structure to be right in.

The icon disappears again.

Seriously?  What’s going on over there?

Maybe they’re driving.  Yes, that must be it; they’re driving.

Or skydiving.

This time the icon is gone for a longer period of time.

Maybe they’ve given up.

Maybe they want to cancel meeting up tomorrow but can’t bring themselves to tell me so have instead chosen to ignore the whole conversation and come back to it later.

typing icon

Oh wait!  Never mind; it’s back.

This time it’s around for a lot longer.

Maybe they’ve found the words to let me down gently for tomorrow, which sucks.  I was really looking forward to it.

Or….

Maybe they’re looking forward to it just as much as me and they’re putting together a string of ideas and suggestions for tomorrow that will blow my mind.

There are so many possibilities out there and, now I think about it, my plans were pretty normal and boring.  I can understand why they’ve taken the time to really consider how best to utilise the time we have together so we can both have a fulfilling and enjoyable time.

It’s nothing short of embarrassing to think about the message I’d sent.  I wish I could somehow take it back, but it’s out there now and there’s nothing I can do about it.  My friend is basing their whole elaborate and comprehensive reply on my recommendation for ‘a bit of a wander around the shops followed by a pizza’, but as I said earlier it was never about WHAT we do, but rather about us catching up.

So, actually; who the fuck do they think they are?  Who are they to suggest something else as if they’re so bloody special? What’s wrong with some shops and a pizza?  Hmm?  Are they too good for that? Are they too good for me!?  Maybe they’re not the friend I thought they were!  Maybe is should be ME cancelling on THEM!!

typing icon ok

Oh.

When nerds collide

Today in Forbidden Planet a couple pushed past me; bickering over which of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is the best.

He said “Leonardo obviously” and she insisted it was Raphael.

They were deadly serious.

Come on guys; they’re just fictional characters. They’re not real!

Pfft…nerds.

Besides, everyone knows R2-D2 is the best.

Teenage mutant ninja droid

Occupeed

I finish work at 5.30pm, so at 5.25pm I thought I’d nip to the toilet to empty my increasingly aching bladder before the 2 hour journey home.

2 cubicles. Both in use.

Alright, that’s fine. I’m clearly not the only one who’s had that idea.

I waited for 3 or 4 minutes before deciding the occupants were clearly masturbating or dead and gave up. There are another 2 cubicles near the entrance to the building so I thought I’d use those on my way out.

Both also in use.

I waited outside for about 5 minutes, calling out loudly to my wife sat in reception that “I won’t be long as I’m just waiting for these people to finish using the toilet!”

Despite there being noises from within, including flushes and the washing of hands, they weren’t taking the hint or showing any signs of emerging.

“I think they’ve fallen in darling, they’re taking forever!”

Still nothing. I think I heard one of them re-sit down for another performance.

What were they doing in there?

I decided, with bursting bladder and a wife reminding me that we could miss our train, that we should leave the office.

A full bladder is one thing, but proving my wife right is another!

So we left and joined the throng of London commuters and their inept sense of direction.

I tell you, attempting to navigate heaving crowds and packed underground trains with a hairpin bladder is an adventure. A nervous, sweaty adventure.

We made it to Victoria station and straight onto the train. Unfortunately, because we’d left the office so late, the train was really busy.  Thankfully there were 2 seats available at a table, so my wife and I grabbed them.

I removed my shoulder bag and put it on my seat like a tourist with towel on a sun lounger.

“Watch my bag, I really need to use the toilet!” I said, hopping from one leg to the other.

I walked through to the other carriage and found the cubicle.

In use.

Fuck!

I waited.

I waited longer.

I looked at my wife in the other carriage in disbelief.

I even asked some kids I’d they’ve seen anyone go into this toilet (in case it’s out of order).

“Yeah, a girl went in there, innit”

Eventually, after 10 minutes I gave up and joined my wife.

We’re still sat on the train and the toilet is still occupied.  We’ve been on this train for 45 minutes.

I’m about to test the absorbency of these seats.

image

Wait! No! Oh shit!

Aaaaaaargh!!!!!!!!!!!!

That pretty much sums up my feelings right now, but I realise that doesn’t really explain my anguish in much detail.

I’ve just realised that if you delete images from your media library in WordPress, it actually deletes the pictures from the posts they were featured on.

I did not realise this.

This means that I have a lot of posts without images; a lot of which were photos taken by me that have since been deleted!

It’s a sickening feeling when the gravity of the situation hits you, like jumping out of a plane and then realising you’d emptied your parachute the night before. However, the gravity in THAT situation hits you a little harder.

It still results in an “Aaaaaaargh!!!!!!!!!!!!”, but it inevitably ends with a ‘Splat!’

I now have to (somehow) replace all the images in the following posts:

Thoughts from a non GQ reader

This paint can be used on metal. What about iron(y)?

Are you being followed too?

Getting under my skin

Biting the hand that feeds us

‘Faeces’tious and ‘Poo’dantic

Guzzling gas and soda: A comparison

Getting your fear on track

When intelligence goes backward

Waiter minute!

What I really think of Pandas

Any I’m unable to replace will just have to be substituted with a link back to here to explain myself.

If any of you find any others, please let me know.

I’m such a twat.

nooo squirrel

Thoughts from a non GQ reader

I once flicked through an abandoned copy of GQ magazine in an airport lounge.  Have you ever seen one of these behemoths?

I was bored and it was just there on the table I was sitting at, so obviously I was going to leaf through its pages.

At first I wondered why anyone would buy a brand new magazine and then leave it in the departure lounge.

Then I picked it up.  This was a heavy magazine!  Maybe the owner was worried it might prevent their flight from leaving the ground and left it behind.

I turned over the cover and was greeted with an advert.  Fair enough, plenty of magazines start with an advert.  This was followed by an advert, then another advert before moving on to numerous pages of adverts and adverts.  By ‘numerous’ I mean 22.

That’s right; the ‘Contents’ page was on page 23.

By this time I had this overwhelming urge to grow back some stubble, head back to duty free and buy a suit/watch/aftershave whilst pouting and looking intensely into the distance.  Maybe THAT’S where the owner of the magazine went?

I kept turning pages and eventually I found an article, on page 37.

This was ridiculous.  I was being bombarded with more images of men in various states of undress than I’d like.  I have a limit.  That limit is roughly 0.

I decided to test a theory.  I closed the magazine and then let it open at any random page.

Advert.

I tried again.

Another advert.

I flicked the magazine like a flipbook and stopped it randomly.

It was an article about a man who, whilst walking through the autumn leaves in his coat had decided to….oh no, wait, it was another advert.

What a infuriating, pointless and really, really, ridiculously good looking waste of my time.

zoolander-poses