A queer insult.

Sometimes the difference in culture between the UK and the USA rears its ugly, and usually amusing, head. Today was one of those times.

At work we have some internal instant messaging software which is great for employees to communicate when they:

A) Can’t call.

B) Won’t call.

C) Have the social skills of a gibbon with its scrotum in a jar of fire ants.

As my department is like a central hub for any questions or issues from our call centre, we get a lot of instant messages to help out with all kinds of weird and wonderful situations.

Here is a conversation I literally just had:

Fran: Hi, I need some help

Me: Hey Fran, it’s Daniel, your favorite Brit ūüėČ

Fran: Hey Daniel! How’s it going?

Me: Pretty good. Busy! So what’s up?

(For security reasons, this part of the conversation is omitted as it’s work related.¬† Needless to say, I fixed the problem like a boss!)

Me: Done!

Fran: Great! Thanks.

Me: No problem ūüėČ

Fran: Have a great day!

Me: You have a great day too ūüôā

Fran: Poof

Now, she meant to imply that she magically and dramatically vanished from the conversation in a puff of smoke, like a genie….or Batman.

To me she ended that conversation with ‘Faggot‘.

I laughed like a drain for at least a minute, solidly.

It was one of the funniest insults I’ve received since living in America, particularly because it was unintentional and from a person who wouldn’t even say boo to a goose (with or without their nuts in a jar of fire ants).

poof

This is also the word we use for an ‘Ottoman’. England is a weird place.

 

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Please give a crap…¬†

This is a public service announcement.

Diabetes is on the rise in America and something needs to be done about it.

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For just the price of one hot steaming poo a day,  we can help find the cure for this debilitating disease.

That’s right, ¬†just one heavy, ¬†corn infused bum dumpling and we can take a stand (or squat) against diabetes.

We hope that,  one day,  we can shit our way to finding a remedy against this insulin deficiency once and for all.

So, ¬†please read our book and create food that will enable you to birth the most substantial, ¬†eye watering, ¬†bung stretching turds you’ve ever experienced.

Let’s end this sugared tyranny by standing together.

Or squatting.

Yes,  squatting makes more sense.

Two in the pink….

Usually,  when I write a post,  it’s regarding a situation or event that either amused me…or frustrated me to the point where it was simply laughable. 

But sometimes,  just sometimes,  something comes along that requires no back story or train of thought. 

So,  in keeping true to my ‘Life Is Funny’ mantra,  here is a photo of a van I was stuck behind in traffic the other day. 

In this post I claimed energy drinks gave you anal seepage; it now seems they have a remedy for that. 

You want beef?

It’s Sunday and I’m at work.¬† It’s actually my scheduled day to work, so this isn’t a ranty post about having to work weekends and the world can lick my sweaty bumhole.

Sorry.

Instead, this is a post about the baffling and idiotic mindset of one of my friends and colleagues who is also here today.

So, for context, we have a large bistro on campus here at work which offers all sorts of foods, drinks and dubious stains and spills on the floor.¬† Usually, when I take my lunch, I head down to the bistro and then text my colleague (let’s call her Numpty) and let her know what free soups they have on offer that day.¬† She then replies and lets me know which she’d like and I take one back to her.

I’m simply awesome like that.

Well, being a Sunday, there was only one choice of soup instead of the usual three.¬† Today’s soup was beef chilli.¬† Yes, I know it’s not technically a soup, but it resembles a soup more than a barrel of squashed frogs.

Actually, squashed frog soup sounds pretty good.

Anyway, when I got down there I sent her a text.  In fact, here is the ACTUAL conversation we had (my comments are in yellow).

twattext

There’s a lot of love between us

I deserved it.

But then again, so did she.¬† I mean, all she had to do was type ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.¬† In fact a simple ‘Y’ or ‘N’ would have sufficed.

This is why she’s a twat.

No swearing please

I’m in the gym again as my inability to put on socks without a run up is getting on my tits. 

My man tits. 

So,  anyway,  there’s a notice in here warning against swearing. We have to ‘be mindful and considerate to others’. 

Of all the places to ban swearing,  you’d think the last place would be a gym full of big ‘manly’ men and women. 

Fuck me,  what a pussy whipped bunch of cunts. 

Give me strength…

Yesterday I went to the gym after work, despite being tired after a long…fucking…day.

I walked up to the reception desk and handed over my membership card to the girl standing behind it (the desk, not my card).

Me: “Here you go“.

She took my card, looked at it for a second.

Girl: “Thank you Daniel“.

Bit weird, but OK.

Me: “Can I have a towel please?

Girl: “Sure“.

She handed me a towel.

Me: “Thanks“.

Girl: “I love your energy! Have a great workout

My energy?

All I did was ask for a towel and then thanked her for handing me that towel.¬† It’s not like I bounded in, frisbee’d my membership card at her and bellowed: “Well hello there my good woman!¬† May I have a towel for today’s exertions!!???

Still, I mustered enough energy for an eye roll.

She deserved it.

energy

I Crastinate like a Pro 

I hate my days off.

Up until a month ago my wife and I had the same days off work; Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  However, her shift changed and now she has the traditional Saturday and Sunday off.

To many, ¬†the thought of having time off work without their significant other is a dream come true, ¬†but there’s only so much I enjoy doing alone…and it’s getting really sore.

Now,  I hate to be sickly sweet here,  but my wife and I have an awesome marriage.  Spending time without her is like watching anything with the Kardashians in it; a pointless waste of time.  In addition,  Tuesday is the day I Skype my family back in England so my wife is missing out on that too.

I would love to say something hilariously sarcastic and biting about in-laws and how she’s dodged a bullet, ¬†but alas…she really does love my family and vice versa.

I’m telling you, anyone looking in on our marriage from the outside is usually reaching for a bucket.

So,  today is Tuesday,  my wife left early for work,  and I Skyped my family at the normal prearranged times.  Due to the eight hour time difference,  the Skype calls are very early in the morning so,  historically (well,  for the last month at least),  I go back to sleep afterwards.  However,  instead of having a nap for a couple of hours,  I usually end up sleeping for ages and missing most of the day.

Either that or I end up down a YouTube rabbit hole and still end up doing none of the things I had planned to do.

Yet I always seem to end up sore.

This is all made worse by a fuzzy head usually brought on by oversleeping or concentrating on a screen without blinking.

Well,  today was going to be different.  Today I was going to do some washing [laundry],  tidy up,  go to the gym and get my hair cut. So today I set myself an alarm to only sleep for an hour.

Genius,  right?

Wrong.

Instead of only sleeping for an hour,  I decided to snooze button my way through four hours of sleep.

It’s become another typical Tuesday…or, ¬†should I say ‘Snoozeday’? Huh? ¬†Get it? ¬†Snoozeday? ¬†Anyone?

(holds up hand for a high five he will never get, and all that can be heard is the sound of crickets as a lone tumbleweed rolls by)

I don’t even have the time or the energy to get my hair cut. ¬†This is an activity that involves me sitting down on the way to the Barber, ¬†sitting down while they do all the work, ¬†and then sitting down all the way home…and I still can’t be bothered.

Instead I’m slouched in bed, ¬†looking at the clock and justifying to myself that I simply don’t have the time to do anything.

Well,  except write this post.

Priorities.

Now, where’s that box of tissues?