Fully roosted coffee

At work, we have a dedicated private Facebook page in which employees can sell stuff.

It’s pretty good if you want baby clothes, a kitchen gadget they’ve ‘only used a couple [of] times’, and other shit and detritus they don’t want anymore.

Well, I decided to have a peruse through today’s offerings over my morning coffee, and happened upon this item.

You know this is going to be fowl

Usually stuff like this wouldn’t make it onto my blog, but I couldn’t resist with a description like this:

Extra large Cock – FREE to a good home

My first instinct was to look up from my desk and check around me to make sure I wasn’t having my leg pulled.

No, she really wrote that…and it was intended to be sincere.1

What made it even better is that someone commented:

That is a turkey.

To which she replied:

It’s a rooster. A huge cock

Ah, I love the smell of innuendos in the morning.

(slurps coffee)

 

1 – I know this because a) it’s on a public work Facebook channel, and b) innuendos aren’t her thing….believe me!

No photos please, this is America

My wife is currently attending her second physical therapy session, having torn the ACL (Anterior Cruciate Ligament) in both knees a couple of months ago.

Yes, BOTH knees. At the same time.

It’s been a fun few weeks.

Anyway, I decided to take a photo of her during today’s session – as you do – and after having taken a seat, a member of staff quickly approached me.

I knew what he was going to say.

He wanted to advise me that, for legal reasons, I had to ensure no other patients were present in the photo.

I knew it…but I was so annoyed that I was being ‘educated’ that I looked him square in the eyes and put on my best ‘in disbelief’ face.

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

He wasn’t.

I had to show him the photo.

Seriously.

What does ‘ the legal system’ think I’m going to do with the photo?

Maybe I’ll post it online and then tag these people randomly in the hope I somehow correctly select them from the 1.65 billion users currently on Facebook?

Maybe ‘the legal system’ is worried I might want to keep it for the wank bank?

Yeah right. These people should be so lucky.  These people would be able to stop the vinegar strokes. They would kill any degree of rigidity.

(looks down)

*slap* *jiggle* *slap*

Nothing.

Jesus, it’s just a photo; it’s not like I’m aiming at them through a high powered rifle laser scope.

But joking aside, I know what the problem is; the physical therapy centre doesn’t want to be sued for unauthorised use of photography of their patients without their expressed permission.

Either that, or the member of staff wanted to check the sweet photo I took of my wife.

I can’t blame him.

(adds it to the wank bank)

Maybe I’ll counter sue these delicate background babies for photo bombing my photo. Had they considered that, huh? Had they??

I didn’t give THEM permission to be in MY photo.

But seriously, what next? Should I expect to be contacted by distraught family members of people featured in the backgrounds of photos from my childhood?  There are literally hundreds of those lurking in photo albums at my Mother’s house.

There was a LOT of skin in the background of those beach photos. 

And a LOT of Speedos.

Tight, miniscule Speedos

*slap* *jiggle* *sl…

Wait, where’d he go?

image

Lashing out

One of the girls I work with always wears fake lashes.  It looks like her eyes are wearing baseball caps.

The other day I dared her to come to work not wearing them, so today she’s done exactly that.

She looks…well…no different, actually.

Her natural lashes (which I believe I am saving from extinction) are long, so she looks just great without those massive canopies keeping her face shaded from the sun.

Goodbye fake tan.

Then she came out with this gem:

“I do feel like I’ve got bigger eyes today”.

Brilliant.

However, this isn’t the first time she’s come out with a random statement.  In fact, one of my friends in the office who sits next to her is compiling a book of them.

Here is a sample of what he has so far.

“I have pissed myself before; I was under the influence”

“Why can’t I work from home?  I couldn’t work from home because I wouldn’t work!

“Is the Caribbean in Thailand?” (We work in travel)

“What would 50% of the holiday cost be?  Oh yeah, half!”

“What class are they flying? Pre minimum Economy?”

Her – “Are you still with the mum?”

Customer – “No, I’m not”

Her – “Aww, ok; are they still her kids though?”

“I actually think I’m in a music video today”

“I can’t wait to shave”

“When you say ‘Afternoon’, how weird is that?”

“Don’t you think oranges are weird?  Like, the way they grow.  The world is a wonderful place Billy”

“It’s the one bedroom apartment equilavent….equilavent…..EQUILAVENT!”

“About a month ago I shit myself.  It was so annoying because it was just after a shower.”

“O.M.G., I think I’m getting fingered by a ghost!”

How can I compete with this comedy gold?

The interesting thing to note is that this girl is actually quite smart.  She’s quick to learn and very inquisitive…she’s just a bit of a ditzy twat at times.

Bless her.

pug lashes

When the Candy is finally Crushed

Tonight, as I was perusing Facebook in bed, I saw this post on my newsfeed:

Sooooooo friggin pee’d off with myself right now!!! Feel like crying!!! Bloody dropped, smashed, shattered and well and truely broke my tablet. So not a happy bunny right now!!!!

I felt the need to comment on this tragedy…and by tragedy I don’t mean the event itself, but rather the shameful use of grammar and the misspelling of the word ‘truly’.

I replied with:

So no more Candy Crush invites??
#silverlining

That will go down as well as her tablet did.

I do feel bad for her though.

Truely.

image

The cinema ‘experience’ (Part 2)

Following on from Part 1, here is the second category in why the cinema experience isn’t that great.

 2. The People

I can tolerate the extortionate prices of the food and over-iced drinks. I can even tolerate the uncomfortably stained and sticky seats.  It’s the people I have issues with. I could write shitloads about the people, but there’s only a finite amount of storage on the internet so I’ll break it down into categories.

Talkers

Why are you talking through the film? You’ve chosen and paid money to watch this film, so sit down, shut up and fucking watch it.  Are you so incapable of not spewing utter bollocks for 2 measly hours of the day?  If you can’t shut up, get out.

cinema talking

I have to go out on a limb here and include children and babies in this section. I realise it’s not their fault as they have yet to adopt social cinema etiquette, but come on!  If your baby is screaming and crying, take them outside.

They’re clearly not happy being in a dark noisy room surrounded by strangers.  After all, I’m not.

Take them outside. What are you doing in the cinema with a baby anyway? Either leave them with a sitter/friend/stranger or catch the film in a few months on Netflix.  It’s not fair on the baby and it’s not fair on me, er, I mean us.

As far as kids are concerned, have a word with them beforehand about not talking or at the very least gag your little treasures.

I’m joking of course, but there is a degree of responsibility here on the parents. When the child is asking “Daddy, what’s Shrek doing?  Daddy?  Daddy?   Why is Shrek shouting at Donkey, Daddy?  Daddy?  DADDY?  DADDY!?”, maybe consider quietly answering them, followed by a discreet “Shh, watch the film” rather than just ignoring them.

cinema shouting child

You might be able to tolerate their incessant babbling and running up and down the rows, but we can’t.

Kick my chair again you little bastard, I dare you.

Texters/Facebook fiends

I hate this above everything. Get off your phone!  If you’re doing it behind me, that’s ok (unless you haven’t muted the beeping/clicking sounds when you type), but anywhere else means I get a bright light in my face which can be as distracting as a punch in yours.

punch face

What is so important that you absolutely MUST send a message to someone or check your news feed RIGHT NOW? Then, when they’ve missed massive chunks of the film, they become a ‘talker’ and have to ask their friend what they’ve missed.

If I were the friend I would lie about it.

And punch them in the dick.

Or the vagina.

(I don’t want to appear sexist).

Loud eaters

Admittedly the cinema is somewhat responsible for a majority of this, but not entirely.

Firstly it seems ALL food packaging in the cinema is required to exceed the decibel level of a jet engine. It’s like bubble wrap being driven over slowly with a steamroller that launches fireworks and ball bearings out of its exhaust pipe, in a room with a lot of echo, during an earthquake.

loud noises

Secondly it seems that most people wait for a really quiet moment in the film to rummage shoulder deep into their popcorn, taking ages to grab a fistful to stuff in their stupid fat mouths.

RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE!!!!

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

SLUUUUURRRRP!!!

RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE!!!!

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Can someone get this prick a nosebag?

Or me a gun?

twitchy eye

Seat etiquette

Don’t kick the back of my chair, or any chair in my row that’s bolted to mine.

Even if you’re gently tapping the back of the seat without realising it, don’t think I won’t gently tap your face with my fist without you realising it too.

Also, if you choose to sit with a space either side of you, don’t act like the victim and get all reluctant and huffy when my wife and I ask you to move over.  Do you seriously expect us to share popcorn across you?

We’re still going to hold hands.

And kiss.

That’s happening.

awkward

Last In, First Out

What are you doing turning up 20 minutes into the film?

Considering there’s usually half an hour of adverts and trailers/previews, that’s pretty fucking late to be strolling in. Did you forget what time the film was on? Was it a last minute decision?

And now that you’re here, please feel free to take a further 20 minutes to decide where you want to sit, preferably half way up the aisle so you can block the view of those who WERE on time.

Sit.

The fuck.

Down.

Oh, you need me to get up so you can get past my legs?  Of course mate, no problem; I wasn’t doing anything anyway.  No, no, it didn’t hurt when you trod on my foot.  It’s fine; adds to the whole experience.

late cinema

Then, when the film ends and the director’s name appears on the screen, most people are up out of their seats and already halfway to the exit.

This makes sense if the film was truly over, but with some films there are extra scenes during the credits.  However, the people who have already started leaving still continue to leave!

Fine with me.

It means I can finally let out that fart I’ve been holding in.

Aaaaah…..

fart cinema

To be concluded…

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.

Train’d Monkeys

Over the years I’ve noticed a few habits adopted by the idiots I’m forced to endure every day on the trains (or ‘commuters’ as they’re better known).  A lot of these habits have become such commonplace that I usually can’t be bothered to blog about them, or I simply forget.

However, this morning there were three happening all at once and my Punch-O-Meter’s needle was twitching in the red zone.

Punchometer

See?

Dangerously close.

So I’m taking time out to vent about these habits that leave me craving the sweet sound of knuckles on face.

 

1. The Multitasker

This is the person who, whilst having a conversation with someone else on the train, is also reading their phone or tablet.  Even though they’re (thankfully) not talking to me, it’s still really rude and they don’t make any attempt to hide it.

checking texts

It’s bad enough that they’re flapping their jaws while I’m trying to sleep or watch a movie, but to be doing it and not remaining committed to the conversation they’re having is like getting a drum kit for your birthday and then playing it out of rhythm, like Yugoslavian Jazz. 

If you’re going to annoy me at least have the decency to do it properly.

 

2. Casual Viewers

I’m a bit of a viewing Nazi when it comes to TV and movies.  If you’ve made a decision to sit down and watch something, then sit the fuck down and watch it. There are certain things you should never do, especially when I’m in the vicinity.

These include:

  • Talking to me.
  • Talking to someone else.
  • Talking at all.
  • Using your phone (for ANYTHING!).
  • Leaving the room without pausing it (at home obviously)
  • Eating and paying more attention to your food than the screen

The woman sat next to me on the train this morning was watching some boring shit on her tablet, but was also moronically scrolling through her Facebook newsfeed on her phone.  I use the word ‘watching’ loosely as she didn’t actually look up from her phone for almost the entire journey into London, which was an hour.

I thought about all the money spent hiring writers, producers, directors (first and second unit), actors, extras and production staff, plus all the time taken perfecting every line of every draft of the script to keep the plot engaging, every camera angle to capture the subtle nuances of the actors’ performances, the scouting for locations, the permissions needed to shoot in these locations, the time spent in principle photography, all the post production, the special effects, music, overdubs, Foley dubs, the editing process to keep the right pace, the test audiences to ensure it will satisfy the masses and bring in the bucks, the premieres, the red carpets, the press junkets; all of this wasted on some bint ‘liking’ a picture of a kitten.

It really grinds on me.  Can you tell?

Then, when she’d stopped mindlessly scrolling through the pointless crap on her newsfeed and sucked in her drool, she then spent ages rewinding what she had been ‘watching’ in an attempt to find the part where she’d tuned out.  To be honest, I don’t think this woman was ever fully tuned in.

text movie

And finally,

 

3. The Aisle Sitter

This one has always confused me. 

It’s the idiot who gets on the train, sits in an aisle seat and leaves the window seat vacant.

Why?

aisle prick

Inevitably someone else will get on and want to sit down, so rather than simply (and sensibly) moving over to the window, they make a big performance of stopping what they’re doing (sometimes tutting and sighing in the process) and awkwardly standing up in the aisle (stopping other people from getting past) to allow the new arrival access to the seat by the window.

This is time consuming and makes absolutely no sense.  It’s a commuter train which means this happens EVERY day, and EVERY day they do the same thing.  I’ve seen it with my own eyes.  Same dickheads, same thing; every day.

If they don’t want to be disturbed, then sit by the window, or find a seat next to someone who already has.

These are supposed to be intelligent people, right?  I mean, they’re wearing suits and stuff.

I’m reminded of a quote from Tim Minchin:

“We’re just fucking monkeys in shoes”

monkey platform

No parking!

This morning I was greeted by this…

car block

Some inconsiderate prick thought it was a good idea to park their car right across my garage.

My first instinct was to get in my car and sound the horn until the fucker came out and then punch them in the face, but it was 7am and I didn’t really want to wake the whole neighbourhood.  I was angry, but that didn’t excuse me being an annoying wanker about it.

My second instinct was to kick or scratch their car, but considering my vehicle is the only one blocked in, it would’ve pretty obvious who had done the damage and I didn’t want to risk them retaliating. 

It’s not like I could move my car and hide it afterwards.

This is also the reason I resisted squatting on the bonnet and laying a hot fresh pie on their windscreen.

Shame, because the first one of the day is usually the meatiest.

And if they didn’t retaliate I could be slapped with a fine for criminal damage, which is always fun.

So instead I was terribly British and paced back and forth, muttering under my breath, and shaking my head in a misguided belief that it would somehow flush out the culprit…which it didn’t.

Instead I was left feeling more helpless and frustrated than a handcuffed pervert watching porn.

I was also angry that my four minute drive to the train station was going to result in a thirty minute uphill walk on a very, VERY cold October morning.

All I could do was take a photo (to send to my boss showing that my reason for being late is in fact genuine – not that I’m a cynic!), close my garage, lift their wiper blade up in defiance and begin my tedious walk to the station. 

I would’ve left a note under their wiper blades but annoyingly I didn’t have time to go back in the house to write it.  If I left immediately and walked at the blistering pace of an angry woman, I might just be able to make the later train.

I did, however, do the one thing that I thought might make me feel better; the one thing that may help ease my suffering and give me a sense of comfort.  I posted it on Facebook.

Within seconds I got the affirmation and acknowledgement I was so clearly craving, with lots of advice on a variety of vindictive things I could’ve done to teach this parking penis a lesson.  My favourite comment was this small poem…

 

Dear driver of the black car

Who do you think you are?

Don’t you find it bizarre…

You park but wander somewhere far?

Now my mate can’t access his car

Better this note, than my fucking crowbar!

 

Brilliant.

It’s not all work, work, work

A woman gets on the train with her friend. They natter for a bit and then the conversation stops as the woman gets out her laptop and starts typing furiously.

A lot of people do work on the train; I see it every day. Excel, PowerPoint, Word, emails…. it’s never ending.

I wonder what she’s working on. I can’t see properly because of the sunshine glaring on her screen. Whatever it is it must be important; she has a serious look on her face and her fingers are a blur on the keyboard.

Suddenly we enter a tunnel and the glare is taken away.

Facebook.

image

There seems to be a problem with your network….

Can someone please explain to me why 3G connectivity and phone signal gets progressively shittier the closer to London my train gets?

What is the deal with that?

Maybe it’s because London is such a small little town with very few mobile phone masts.  Who knows?

Having been an ‘Orange’ network subscriber for many years, I was transferred to the new ‘EE’ network, which I believe stands for ‘Everything Everywhere’.  It should be rebranded to ‘Nothing Anywhere’ or ‘NA’, which is ironically appropriate.

I swear these wanker networks turned 3G effectiveness down to make the new 4G network appear better and faster.

Luckily for me I don’t try and occupy my time on the train with the likes of Facebook.  I mean, could you imagine how annoying that would be?  Pages taking forever to refresh, status updates not updating, posts having to be drafted 5 times because they keep disappearing due to ‘no network connectivity’.

Yeah, thankfully I don’t have to put up with that shit. 

In fact, come to think of it, my commute into work is always easy and uneventful.

angryphone

Crush the Candy Saga!

What is with all the invites from my friends to play Candy Crush Saga on Facebook? Isn’t it basically bejewelled from, like, a million years ago?

Oh sorry, no, wait, this one has candy in it.

It amazes me just how much of a steaming shit I really don’t give.

Now, I’m suspecting this retard of a game is auto-inviting me on my friends’ behalf which is incredibly cuntsiderate, but I would rather dip my hairy coinpurse in peanut butter and release the hounds than play this candy coated cock of a game.

Having said that, I may have just discovered that half of my friends are in fact dribbling gibbons who thought it was a good idea to invite Dan because “he likes videogames”.

That’s like offering me a VHS copy of a shit 70s film because you’d heard I was a movie fan. Great, I’ll add it to my BluRay collection shall I?

And if I’ve insulted anyone who may have sent me invites to this game, then I am truly, utterly and sincerely overjoyed.

Game Over.

image

The appliance of wrong

There’s currently a competition on Facebook to win some kitchen appliances.

Im not promoting it in any way I hasten to add!

All you have to do is ‘like’ the page to enter the draw. It’s accompanied by a picture which I’ve included in this blog.

Now is it me, or do the words just under the child seem a little inappropriate?

Connect you bastard, connect!

For someone like me, having a decent 3G signal is important as I like to write Facebook statuses (or is it Stati?) and/or blog entries whilst travelling on our nation’s joke…er, i mean trains.

So why is it so hit and miss??

It pisses me off that getting a half decent signal in London is as challenging as a job application form to a Jeremy Kyle contestant.

What exacerbates it further is the fact that I’m showing 3G with FULL signal and yet I’m still greeted with that little circling icon and the word ‘Loading’ next to it.

It’s lying to me. I know it’s lying to me.

“You’re not loading, you little turd” I think to myself, “and i’m going to prove it!”
So I go into my iPhone settings, switch Airplane Mode on, wait 10 seconds, switch it off again and like magic….full signal and 3G again. Only this time it actually works.

“Awesome” I say to myself (quietly of course, as I’m on the train and I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ who talks to himself and subsequently becomes the focus of someone’s Facebook status or blog).

So I write my musings, read them back, chuckle a bit, corect aany spleling miistekes, take out the comment about someone’s mum, proof read it again, reconsider the mum comment and slide it back in (well, it’s how she likes it), chek teh speling agian, and then post it.

Oh….nope…..no 3G. That’s because I pressed send at the PRECISE moment we entered a tunnel (insert mum comment here if you like). It’s just bloody typical that I get no signal at the point I need it!

Ah, we’re out of the tunnel now. Any minute I’ll get my 3G back. I mean, we’re not in the middle of Cambodia here; this is just outside London….

…..any minute now…..

…..any minute……

Aha! Signal!

Another tunnel.

Fuck.

Ok, I can wait. I can play Trainyard or look on faceboo….ah, no I can’t.

Ok, we’re out of the tunnel again.

….any minute…..

…..aaaaaaaany minute now……

Aha! Signal!

“Tickets please”

What? Now? Sigh, hang on! (Puts phone on the table and fumbles in his bag, then pockets, then bag again; finds ticket and shows it to the ‘cheery’ chap armed with his ticket bitey clip thingy)

“Thank you”
“Fuck you”
“Pardon sir?”
“Nothing….”

He walks away…

Ok, now lets post this bastard. (Presses ‘post’)

Circling icon…(deep breath)

Back into Airplane Mode.

Aaaaaaaaaand……..done!

I hope you’ve appreciated the shit I’ve been through for you to read this!