No photos please, this is America

Posted on Jun 10, 2016 by headinablender

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?

Give me a sign…and I will point and laugh at it.

Posted on Dec 24, 2015 by headinablender

Yesterday I was in traffic, sat behind a truck that had the slogan:

‘Behind You All The Way’.

Ah, the irony.

I was on my way to see Star Wars Episode VII : The Force Awakens for the second time.

When I got to the cinema I realised I was extremely early (like I was keen to get there, for some reason) and my man date hadn’t arrived yet. Out of boredom I began wandering around the child-filled lobby, raising suspicion with security.

My boredom took a breather when I saw this sign on the wall…

OK, so most of this is standard stuff about not bringing in your own food and switching off your phone…blah blah blah, but it was a little disturbing to read ‘no weapons’.

Does that include lightsabers?

It was scary to see that written on a sign that was NOT trying to be funny. They meant it. If you’re armed you’d better not mess with these people, they have a sign. What do you have?

Oh, wait…

But my favourite part was that they felt it necessary to advise they WILL wake you up if you’re snoring, like it’s a regular thing.

This had me laughing out loud to myself.

Security began to close in.

This, combined with the contradictory truck logo, reminded me I had two or three amusing photos on my phone that I was saving for a potential blog post in the future.

Well, now this post is that post.

Enjoy.

On the back of a camping chair (and down the front of my pants)

We need to protect the gaylords it seems….or are they there to protect us?

TV show about your mother.

Wait! No! Oh shit!

Posted on Oct 21, 2014 by headinablender

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.

Drop it like it’s hot

Posted on Jul 22, 2014 by headinablender

Whilst sat having lunch with my wife, we were overpowered by the loud plum voiced conversation being had at the next table.

It quickly became clear this ‘man’ (I use that term loosely) and woman worked in the film industry due to the number of names being dropped per second.

Seriously, there were more drops than a Dubstep album. They were almost trying to outdo each other over who has sucked more celebrity cock.

Then, during the mindless drivel and overenthusiastic nodding, the ‘man’ said something about his child.

I’m sorry, his what?

How did that happen?

Anyway, this prompted my favourite part of the conversation and the reason for today’s post.

“I’ve got a photo of him here”, he said pulling out a pink sequined purse* and producing a crumpled up photograph, “He’s 17 months, but he looks 22”

Wow.

Just wow.