Me Vs Bitches

It's time to dust off the soap box and have a good old fashioned gripe about something. In this case, the soap box is this blog, dusting is writing and that something is my friends, the eponymous "Bitches" referred to in the title.

I remember a time when my friendships used to be mutual. It seems to be a long time ago now but I'm sure this was the case. Sometimes I would call or sms my friends to organise things (in this case "things" are mutually enjoyable activities that can be simultaneously experienced by two or more willing participants), sometimes they would call or sms me. This seemed to be a fair and equitable arrangement.

But things have changed. I got married. ("Aha!" I hear you cry. "It's your fault!" but I shall prove my innocence.) Upon announcing my decision to my friends, they congratulated me profusely and then almost universally added, "Just don't forget about us" and other things of that nature.

Ironically though, whilst I still go to the effort of calling, sms'ing and organising, it is my non-married friends (aka. the "bitches") who have stopped returning the favour. Some seem to have developed an extreme inability to operate a mobile phone bordering on the phobic. Ironic in a non-Alanis Morrisett kind of a way, in the sense of being actually ironic.

Is it me? Have I done something? Not done something? The answer, of course, is "No." I'm perfect. Damn bitches.

Me Vs Swine Flu

I'm sick. I've been sick all week. This makes me angry. When I get angry, I like to have someone to blame. Blaming others makes me feel a bit better.

These are my usual go-to blaming options when unwell:
1. My students. They come to school with their ebola and their syphillis and what have you and cough and sniff over everything. Walking in to a classroom in winter is like walking into a horror movie - all you see are leaking noses, open mouths and vacant eyes. (Admittedly the vacant eyes may be a feature common to all students at all times.)
2. My doctor. I can get angry at my doctor because:
a) It's always a "virus" and I need to sleep it off. Why did I bother coming to see you again? Why did YOU bother going through six years of medical degree again?
b) The word 'doctor' implies a certain level of responsibility for a patient. Where were they when I was getting sick in the first place?!
3. Everyone else. Why? Because I'm sick. Fuck off!

Note the following are NOT useful blaming options:
1. Me. When you get sick you have a constitutional and a morally obligatory right to wallow in self-pity. Anyone who tries to whinge about you whinging is impinging on your rights and is, therefore, a fascist. Tell them so. Suggest they frog march into the kitchen and make you some chicken soup.
2. My wife. This should be obvious. If it is not, I pity you. If it is not and you are married, you are really in some serious trouble, my friend.

But now, thanks to the media's constant attempts to beat up a story in an effort to give me something else I need to fear, I can now blame a new group of people: Foreigners! Or, at the least, rich bastards who can still afford to go on holidays and boat cruises during these uncertain economic times. It is particularly satisfying to get angry at rich foreign bastards. Not just for the flu but also because "they" "took" "all" of "our" jobs and caused Brad and Jennifer to split up. Bastards.

Look, here's how it works: Perhaps if I slept more, ate more fruit and veggies and exercised more regularly, I wouldn't have gotten sick... nah, that's not it... it was those damn foreigners!

Blah, I'm going back to bed.

Me VS Torture Chambers

In Medieval times, when people were bad they were put in a torture chamber.

Today, we call it "the gym" and we pay people to get in.

Go figure.

Manslator

There's some movie out at the moment based on a self-help book that teaches women how to understand what men are actually saying when they say the things they say. Or perhaps it is about what they say when they don't say things. Which is, I guess, what men don't say when they aren't saying something. Or maybe it's what they do say when they aren't saying things.

Based on the above, this seems like a fucking confusing book to me. I don't know why any of you ladies bothered to read it in the first place.

However, be not afraid as there is still hope for you. I am here and I have decided to be the manslator that ladies apparently so desperately need, by manslating some basic things for the prettier half of the species.

Ladies, before we begin you need to be aware of something: men are fucking stupid. This is not a joke or a witty observation. It is just, sadly, the truth. If you bear in mind this one simple truth and think about everything men do in light of it, you will find that the things we do and say make a lot more sense.

The second thing you need to understand is that because men are stupid, we are by nature very simple. Whilst our brains can tolerate thinking about a broad range of topics, they can only do so for a limited amount of time before returning to the basics: food, sleep, boobs, leisure activities (sports/video games/beer).

Now you know, in all honesty, everything you need to know in order to manslate for yourself. Here are a few examples, just to show you how it works:

1) You: Do you want to go out with me and my friends tonight?
Him: No baby/honey/shnookywooks, you go out and have fun with the girls! Let your hair down.
You think: He is being nice and giving you some time to yourself.
Manslation: That sounds boring! I will instead eat KFC, drink beer and watch footy with my friends.

2) You: Do I look good in this?
Him: Yes.
You think: It's a nice compliment.
Manslation: 'Yes' is a good option because: a) I avoid getting into trouble; and, b) I possibly increase my chances of having sex with you in the near future.

3) You: Do you ever watch porn?
Him: No.
Come on ladies, this is an easy one!
You think: He's telling the truth. (Hahahaha)
Manslation: Yes, I do. I sure do.

4) You: What are you thinking about?
Him: Oh, nothing really.
You think: He's thinking about the things you're thinking about like chores, life goals, that book you finished last week, etc.
Manslation: Sex sex sex sex sex sex.

5) You: (in bed) Are you tired?
Him: (guarded/sleepily) How come?
You think: He's cute when he's tired.
Manslation: I am being cautious because if you want to talk, I'm going to sleep but if you want to have sex, I am in. In fact, I've never been so awake in my ENTIRE LIFE.

So there you have it, the basic principles for understanding men, manslated for your pleasure.

Ladies of the internet, if you do not yet feel confident enough to manslate for yourself from the above, feel free to post your queries and I will happily manslate for you. Because that's the kind of guy I am.

Disclaimer: In the event that my lovely wife reads this, obviously I am different to the average male I speak of and therefore, my man words manslate differently to the man words I have manslated above. Additionally, please remember that I do the washing up and take out the garbage so you can't divorce me because otherwise you would have to do these chores yourself.

Me VS School Technology

As a teacher, I am constantly being urged by the "Powers That Be" (or PTBs, thanks Angel) to integrate technology into my lessons on a regular basis. The thinking behind this is sound - we are living in an increasingly technological age and teachers need to prepare students for this to the best of their abilities.

On the face of it, I have no problems with this - I agree with the general concept and I can even do the following exceptionally technological things:
1) Send e-mail and attach things to email (there was a half day training session on this, no joke)
2) Make PowerPoint presentations that use photos and sounds AND videos
3) Write a blog (bonus points at my school for knowing what that is)
4) Make/listen to a podcast and/or make/watch a vodcast (more bonus points)

I also know what Twitter is (ULTRA bonus points!!), have a Facebook account and know where to find myspace... although all that's ever gotten me is a severe epileptic fit from those fucking crazy wallpapers everyone always uses. Seriously people, what the fuck?! (For another blog, perhaps)

I know, I know. Right now you're thinking, "Holy fucking shit! Is this guy Captain Computer or what?!" Be calm, mere mortal. We cannot all tread amidst such lofty heights. Though your mind may be blown by my amazingness, do your best to cram it back in and carry on reading.

So anyway, I know about quite a bit of "cutting edge" technology and this week I decided to be uber technological and make a few lessons extra special. Here's what happened:

1) Could not show students videos relevant to their learning because youtube is blocked, even to teachers.
2) Could not access Microsoft's free online learning tools because they require a hotmail address. Hotmail is blocked.
3) Internet explorer crashes every time I try to access sites such as www.smh.com and others
4) Tried to make a crossword online. Internet explorer crashed after I'd typed in 30 question/answers ... and didn't save any of it.
5) Half the computers in any given computer room don't work.
6) Websites requiring Flash player don't run.
7) Students drafting assignments at home on new versions of MS Office can't open them at school, because school has the 2003 version... I don't have the admin privileges to install software.

None of this is an exaggeration and all of this happened this week. The truly funny thing is that's not even half of the fun I had with technology this week.

Upon reflection, it is clear that God was trying to teach me a lesson and I think I've finally figured it out. From now on, it's worksheets all the way, baby.

Until the photocopier breaks down again.......



Fuck!!!

Renovator's Dream (Fuck That)

I haven't blogged for quite a while. I almost feel like I should apologise but then I'm not sure who I'd be apologising to as I don't think anyone reads this but myself.

The reason for my ... unblogging...ness ... is that my wife and I have been renovating our house. Well, when I say "we", I really mean "some builders have been renovating our house whilst we've been living elsewhere". The place we were staying was nice and our housemate was great but staying away from home for an extended period of time gets old pretty fast, particularly when you're not at an idyllic holiday destination AND (queue dramatic music) ... the place has no internet!! What the fuck?! Does that even happen at people's houses anymore? We're not in the Democratic Republic of Congo here.

So anyway. No internet and then the renovations blow out from six weeks to seven, then to eight and suddenly it's almost been nine weeks before you move back in. Let's not even talk about the money. Dear God, the money.

Here's a simile for you: Renovating is like getting all of the money you have, pushing it into a giant pile in the middle of a room and setting it on fire as you laugh like a crazy person and dance around it.

At the end of it all, the house does look pretty damn good but fucking hell it was a painful process. There's almost no way I can see myself doing it again. Ever. I laugh at people who advertise their place for sale as a "Renovator's Dream" or even worse, "Renovator's Delight". Hahaha. See, I laugh at you, you renovating people with your dreams of delightfully renovating things. Laugh, I tell you! What a lie.

I now feel capable of dispensing advice on the subject of renovating for those who care.

1. Don't do it.
2. Seriously, I see you thinking, "It can't be that bad, can it?" Yep, it sure can be. Don't do it.
3. Fine, don't take my word for it. Do it anyway but be prepared for the following:
• Don't expect it to take as long as the builder says it will. It will take at least two to three weeks longer, if you're lucky.
• Don't expect it to cost as much as the builder says it will. Surprising problems will crop up. Your builder will have brainwaves for nice little additional touches that will all cost a very reasonable sum of money. Not to mention all the other people who get involved in the job who want their piece. Expect to pay a lot more.
• Don't expect to get everything you want exactly the way you want it. Builders take shortcuts and they have a different idea of "quality work" to you.

I have a dream, my friends... to never, ever think about renovating another house again. Please slap me if I even mention the idea of thinking about it.

I Dream of Zombie(s)

At least once a week, I dream about zombies. The setting is often different, as are the cast of characters in my dreams (including friends, family and randoms). The constant is that I'm usually working my ass off to fend off a ravening horde of shambling corpses who are all intent on eating my brain and feasting off my free range intestines.

I've thought a lot about where these nightmares might come from. Obviously, the fact that I watch a fair few horror films doesn't help, nor does the fact I have a love/fear thing about zombies. I hate the idea of them - a painfully slow yet inescapable mass of dead people with an insatiable appetite for their ex-friends and loved ones. Of course what this means is that I like to watch movies with them even more because it adds to the scare factor.

Yet somehow, these reasons weren't good enough - they don't explain the frequency or longevity of these dreams. So I decided to do the only sensible thing possible - consult google and other assorted dream diary websites (preferably the ones that make no mention of any particular expertise in the field of dream interpretation or psychology) for the answers.

Here's what I found out: Nobody has any fucking clue what dreaming about zombies means.

I hear you gasp. "No! The internet? Be unhelpful? That's impossible!" Alas, it's true. I wanted to hitch a ride on the information superhighway and instead I got run over by a truck that stole my underpants.

For your viewing pleasure, here are some of the suggestions for reasons for zombie dreams. They include (but are not limited to):

• Attacking a zombie can mean that you are beating yourself up for your nasty habits, e.g. drinking, smoking, etc (I don't drink or smoke);
• It can mean that you are testing your mental and physical capabilities;
• It can indicate that you are feeling overwhelmingly helpless, hopeless (and very possibly slightly depressed);
• Zombie dreams tell us that we are afraid of not being in control; and finally, my personal favourite,
• Dreaming about zombies means that you have harmed people in a previous life and they are now out for revenge. Apparently, the only way to avoid said revenge is to "shine your light" onto them (possibly a metaphor for shining a torch into the eyes of the revengeful bastards' eyes until they are disoriented enough for you to kick them in their zombie junk and then run away very fast) and admit that you are desperate to help them.
  

I have to be honest and say that I'm not desperate to help anyone who turns into a zombie. At the point you start trying to eat my brains, or you succeed in eating somebody else's brains, or you don't notice if I cut off your arm, you are pretty much beyond any help I feel capable of providing.

All of my friends and loved ones have already been informed that in the event of a zombie apocalypse and them becoming zombified, I will be the first one to blow their heads off with extreme prejudice.

So anyway, the dream diaries and pop psychologists suck. I guess that means I'm on my own with the zombies. Ah well, at least I'll be mentally prepared for the zombie apocalypse when it comes.


PS - It *IS* coming. Don't say I didn't warn you.

If I Ruled the World...

The following changes would occur:

• 4 day working week, 3 day weekends for all! (because hey, I'm a benevolent dictator);
  
• Day light savings will now be all year round (I just like it is all);
• Chocolate would improve your fitness and tighten your abs;
• Doctor Who seasons will consist of 40 episodes per year. David Tennant to be cloned if necessary (NB: Cloning technology to be perfected asap);
  
• The scientists will give me godlike super powers, which I shall use to rule you all... benevolently;
• World Leader (me) to be guarded by crack team of ninja pirate assassins; and,
  
• Existence of aliens to be revealed to the world as a universal truth. The world's not flat and we're not alone, people!
  

These items to be banned:

• Calories in food. There will be no such thing as "bad food";
• Zombies outside of movies (I like my brains in my head, thanks very much);
  
• Women wearing shapeless baggy dresses with large belts and black tights. Sorry ladies, it's just not fashionable at all;
• The wearing of Ugg boots as shoes in public, and/or the wearing of tights as acceptable out-of-home-or-gym pants. No. Just... no. You don't look cool. Wearing either of these things makes you look like an absolute tasteless fuckwit;
• Almost all Reality TV. The brain melting must stop; and,
  
• Petrol-driven cars. We all know the electric and water powered cars work and you bought the patents you car company BASTARDS! Stop killing our planet or I send my crack team of ninja pirate assassins to destroy you all.

Obviously I would also cure the sick, end poverty, make hot chicks go out with geeks, bring back Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Serenity to TV and blah blah blah do all of the other good stuff that Ghandi was into... only probably better.

One day my loyal minions, one day...

Miley Cyrus + Daniel Radcliffe = $$

I just read an article on the Sydney Morning Herald website detailing how much Miley and Danny made in the year just past.

Miley made $58.8 million from her concert performances earlier this year.
Daniel has allegedly clocked in a cool $54.5 million for starring in the last two Harry Potter films.

Now, here's my question:

WHAT THE FUCK?!

How is the average person even supposed to dream of making that much money? If you're old enough to read this and haven't earnt it already, I'm sorry to say that the ship has probably sailed for you personally, my friend. Forget about being a multi-millionaire entertainment star in your own right.

Fear not, I have figured out the solution for the likes of us. Here's how it's done:
When I have children, I'm so going to force them into the entertainment industry and work them to the bone until they make me ridiculously large amounts of money. They can divorce me at 18 but by then I'll be rich! RICH I TELLS YA! AhahahAHAHAHA!!

Man, I wish I owned that Radcliffe kid...

Life is Short

Which means:

1. You can tease it mercilessly until it develops a complex.
2. It won't get to date tall women.
3. You can hold it at arm's length while you kick it.
4. It won't get to go on any of the really cool rides at amusement parks.
5. You can do fun stuff like look over it's head and pretend not to see it standing there, trying to get your attention.

Take that, life!

What's the moral to the story? Don't wait around for tomorrow: Punch life in the face today.


(Don't be scared, it has short little stumpy legs -- you can outrun it)