The Farce is strong with this one.

Today at work, the subject of Star Wars came up.

Actually, every day at work and at home and at the supermarket and in the car and sat on the toilet pushing out a Jar Jar, the subject of Star Wars comes up.

Why?  Because I fucking LOVE Star Wars.

The Scruffy Nerf Herder has a point.

Anyway, today’s Star Wars conversation started when I saw a trailer for the new Blade Runner 2049 trailer (Squeeeeeee!). I asked my work colleagues if they’re as pant-wettingly excited to see it as I am.

This question was met with was a lot of blank expressions.

My heart sank.

“Wait, who here has seen the original Blade Runner?”, I asked, with slight desperation in my voice.

Only one hand went up.

One.

It was at this point that the girl who sits next to me – let’s call her Cluelessa – said, “There’s one reason why I want to see that movie”.

I sighed. “It’s because of Ryan Gosling isn’t it?”

She beamed excitedly, “Of course!”

I held my shit together and smiled. “So let me get this straight”, I said incredulously, “You went with Ryan Gosling and not Harrison Ford?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“But he’s a legend!”.  (Harrison, not Ryan)

She paused for a moment as she redirected brain power from her mouth to her brain, “I liked him in Air Force One” she replied proudly.

I had to take a moment to compose myself and remember it’s not deemed socially acceptable to choke the shit out of a co-worker.

For some reason it’s frowned upon.

“So, let me understand this right….you didn’t go with Indiana Jones or Han Solo….instead you went with ‘Air Force One’?”

Thus began the conversation about the cultural phenomenon that is Star Wars[1]

It soon became evident that most of the people I work with haven’t actually seen Star Wars, unless it was the one with the “racing thingy” (Pod Race) or “Anakin” (probably a prequel).

I wanted to scream like a Wookie.

The conversation, as dumbfounding as it was, came to a head when Cluelessa asked, “Wait, Darth Vader….is that Star Wars?”

I had to take a moment.

Trembling with rage, I picked up the concrete paperweight on my desk and pushed it towards her face.

“That’s no moon”

“Pop quiz; what’s this?”

She beamed blankly as she looked at it, then at me, then back at the paperweight.

She didn’t know the answer.

SHE DIDN’T KNOW THE ANSWER!

“It’s the Death Star!”, I said, holding back tears and throat punches.

“OK, here’s another question for you”, I said with a new hope (see what I did there?), “What do Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker have in common?”.

There was a long pause.

In fact, there shouldn’t have even been a short pause.

It went very quiet and I could hear my own heart breaking.

One of the other girls piped up, “Isn’t he, like, his dad or something?”

Oh my god!

Then Cluelessa said, “Wait, isn’t Anakin, Luke? Wait, no….hold on, so who is Luke?”

Unbelievable.

But, as I write this from prison, I have to say it has become evident over the last few years that Star Wars is slowly slipping off the radar with the ‘young folk’ of today. It’s for this reason that I am so thankful that Disney now own the rights to a galaxy far, far away.  All the time there is love for the franchise – and tons of cash coming in – Disney will continue to bring Star Wars to the big screen.

Despite one of the girls saying they’ve only seen ‘The Force Awakens’ (eye twitch), it is still keeping the legacy alive….and ‘The Force Awakens’ is still a great film even though its plot is effectively ‘A New Hope’, but without enough R2D2.

I live and breathe Star Wars. I love everything about it[2] and it breaks my heart to think that one day, in the dystopian future of…say…2049, it’s possible that no-one will look at Rick Deckard and say Hey, you look a lot like Han Solo”.

[1]  Not including the prequels.

[2]  Except Jar Jar Binks[3] and any unnecessary or comedic CGI special effects added to the original trilogy.

[3]  Especially Jar Jar Binks!

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Feeling Cranleigh*

I’m having a bad day.

It’s not the kind of bad day that simply makes you want the hours to fly by, but the kind of bad day that makes you want to to punch others indiscriminately in the face as hard and as often as possible.

Maybe a swift kick in the dick too; gender permitting.

I can’t put my finger on why it’s a bad day, it just is and I can’t shake it, no matter how many times I’ve gone to the toilets for a poo.

Now, for clarity, I don’t actually need to poo as often as I’ve been to the toilets today – because I would need some serious medical attention if I did – but it’s the only place in the building I can guarantee I won’t be disturbed as I sit on my porcelain throne, trousers and lacy thong around my ankles, playing ‘Flow Free’ on my phone. To add a little more joy to the proceedings, the toilets have music piped in.

Perfect splash concealment.

Thanks Ed Sheeran.

I look around at the fresh faced people I work with (at my desk, not in the toilets), buzzing away like bees in a hive, happy to simply go through their day like any other and I realise it’s the sort of attitude I usually have pretty much every day, except for today. Today I feel the overwhelming urge to yank people’s hair as I walk past them, dish out the occasional – yet unnecessarily brutal – Chinese/Indian burn (depending on whichever outdated, oddly racial description of this cruel childhood torture is your preference) and kick away office chairs just as people trustingly begin to sit down.

Actually, let’s be honest here….kicking away a chair is always funny, bad mood or not.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have depression nor do I crave sympathy or attention like so many baited Facebook posts.

#grammarpolice

Nope, I’m just simply in a shitty mood. This might be because it’s Monday, or maybe it’s because I’ve had too much/not enough coffee [delete as appropriate] or maybe…just maybe…it’s because I’ve only had 4 hours sleep the last two nights.

Yeah, it might be that.

Does it diminish my desire to choke passers by, just for passing by?

Nope.

So here I sit, marinating in my deep seeded desire to push over children and people on crutches, using this post as an outlet for the pent up rage bubbling somewhere in the depths of my soul.

I think I’ll go for another poo….and maybe a nap.

Zzzzzzz…..

Thrrrppp!

Excuse me.

 

 

*Look it up in ‘The Meaning Of Liff’.

Shhhhhhh………………….it!

I won’t lie, I get overwhelmed with a massive sense of smugness whenever I have to poo at work.  I don’t know if it’s because it takes me away from work for a few minutes, or the fact that I’m on the clock when I sit down to pinch one off.

Either way, I’m getting paid to give a shit.

(groan)

So, today I took my smug self into the toilets [restrooms] on our floor, chose an empty cubicle (which was ANY of them…..result!) and dropped my kecks in readiness for the mass exodus.

Just as I relaxed to let my people go, someone walked in.  Now, this isn’t usually an issue for me, but the toilets at work are tiled floor to ceiling and appear to block out any sound beyond the door…so basically it’s a large, reverberating echo chamber.

Great.

To make matters worse, I knew this poo wasn’t a run-of-the mill affair.  No, this one felt like it had an air pocket the size of my head behind it.  That meant that any attempt to free the prisoners was going to result in a shotgun style blast that would startle the most war-torn veteran due to the amplification provided by the resonance chamber we were both inhabiting.  Also, I had eaten Mexican food the night before with plenty of beans, meaning the smell would likely bring literal tears to our eyes.

Well, it would bring tears to HIS eyes; we can all tolerate our own, right?

Right?

Anyway, my new friend entered the cubicle next to mine – naturally – and took a seat of his own.

Sigh….really?

Now we were two strangers, sat two feet apart in total silence with our pants around our ankles.  This was not at all uncomfortable as I sat there, legs quivering in the air, as I desperately held back a cataclysmic shit that would have emergency crews later looking for the epicenter of the blast that leveled the building.

After what felt like 3 hours, my new friend got up, flushed whatever he had pooped out with ninja-like stealth, washed his hands for an hour, and left.

At last!

I finally relaxed……and chipped the inside of the bowl.

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 😉

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 😉

Fran: Have a great day!

Me: You have a great day too 🙂

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.

 

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.

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?

An ASSinine moment.

“There’s a bum fight outside”

I have literally just heard this across the office from one of my work mates.

I stood bolt upright.

“What did you just say???”

“There’s a bum fight happening outside”, he repeated.

Halfway through my Olympic record sprint to the window I realised he was talking about this:

bumfight

Whereas I imagined this:

bootyfight

Damn you America…..damn you.