Why is it that if a non-Caucasian goes to another country they’re ‘migrants’ and in the reverse, they’re ‘expats’?
Double dose of standards anybody?
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Campaign for CHANGE (your pants)!
Fashion. The constant obsession over mixing and matching, colours, shades, patterns, prints, 100 different types of shoes, and bags and accessories for all the different bits of your bodies… It can be so overwhelming. Lost in the chaos of fashion’s constantly changing perception of what’s ‘In Trend’ and ‘Sooo Last Season’, many young women have become so distracted that they have forgotten the most basic and very important point – wearing real pants.
Just the other day, as I was enjoying the sea breeze in Quayside, Penang with an old friend; I saw it. A tall, fair young lady walks past me in a bright red T-shirt dress… which unfortunately turned out to be too short to be a dress and too long to be a t-shirt. The poor woman was oblivious to the fact that her maxi, white, lacy underwear was brazenly showing itself to the world, completely disregarding the world’s preference NOT to see someone’s lacy undies jumping out at you like a broadway star singing ‘Look at me! Here I am!’.
On numerous occasions while observing the poetic ebb and flow of tango dancers in Buenos Aires have I seen the diabolical black leggings, stretching itself out and around the wide south american hips of an unfortunate young lady, too lost in her dance to notice that everyone else has noticed her purple g-string and basically…everything else. Leggings… no, no! Mere stockings, pretending to be pants! The cheek(s)!
No more, I say!
Women, I call upon you, join me now in the Campaign for CHANGE – Cover Hips, Asses, Nether-regions and G-Strings Effectively!
Working Drunk
Since I’ve become jobless out of choice recently, I’ve had more time to ponder on possible career paths. One of the coolest jobs I’ve come across is The Thirsty Traveller. Although this is not so cool for your liver in the long-run, it’s still pretty cool, because
a) You get to see what the rest of the world looks like out of the bottom of an empty beer glass
b) You get a literal taste for culture
c) Bonding with the human race, because let’s face it – nothing brings you closer to humanity than food or drink, but usually both together
I enjoy a good drink but unfortunately I don’t get paid for it. But I think it’s time they enlisted some female Thirsty Travelers don’t you think?
I’ve been trained by my father from an early under-aged drinking age to kick ass, so I could probably hold my own. Although my skills have been reducing progressively due to other healthier activities getting in the way. Damn you, Healthy Lifestyle!
Having lived in New Zealand for a wee while, I’ve had the opportunity to savour many a lovely, refreshing brew but if it’s one thing I would refuse to drink, it’s this…
and yes, it is wrong for your mate’s mom to give you a ‘Woody’
No, I don’t care about endangered animals
This afternoon while I was walking absent-mindedly pondering life’s mysteries like, what to eat for lunch, some dude dressed all in black asked me “Are you the sort of person who cares about endangered animals?”
And as any decent human being would do, I smiled and said, “No, thanks”
You must think I’m a horrible person, but that’s just a reflex. I walked away thinking, of course I care about endangered animals, what do you take me for, a seal-clubber?! But alas, it was too late. I was on my way to getting a rice dumpling and a chicken pie.
What I really wanted to say was, “Of course I care about endangered animals, I just don’t care enough about it TODAY because I’m hungry and I already donate to WWF, and I don’t feel like parting with more money to save endangered animals because let’s face it, can we really fight the machine that is globalisation?? I mean, do you see any pandas tumbling about in sci-fi movies?”
Great, now I sound more like an endangered-animal-hater, which is completely untrue! Ask all the turtle babies I’ve saved!
Seriously, if you want to engage people on the street about saving endangered animals , for goodness sake don’t get a scary dude to lurch around, use brain-washing ….
Hours of fun….
Decade’s top ten new species, and the winner goes to…
The Pygmy Sloth.
Sloths are very strange creatures, they have this expression on their face that’s like, very non-chalant and bored. Like it’s bored with the world. However, they look kinda creepy when they’re crawling on the ground.
Pygmy Sloths were discovered on an isolated island in the Caribbean, they’re smaller and apparently more chilled out. And they can swim. If I had to be an animal, the Pygmy Sloth seems quite appealing now.
Watch the video, I love the part where the researcher picks it up. The sloth is probably going, “Hey man… what’s goin on. Dude, I’m confused. Huh? Oh, ok whatever… let’s just chill out”
http://news.bbc.co.uk/earth/hi/earth_news/newsid_9269000/9269338.stm
MSN Emoticons on Drugs
I’ve just recently downloaded the Windows Essentials Live which revamps MSN Messenger, not that I wanted all the other bells and whistles that comes with Essentials but as any ‘normal’ PC user would, I updated it because my computer told me to.
As with all things Microsoft, it’s now all fancified and things have been moved around so you’d have to spend an eternity trying to figure out how to get to Tools – Options.
What’s really bothering me is the emoticons.
It’s like the icon designers sat around one night, got a bit carried away and decided to experiment on crack (or some other drug because they’re already on crack anyway). The smiley faces are looking wayyyy too enthusiastic for my liking. Now everytime I “grin” at a friend I feel like a psycho, or I’ve just had too much coffee.
Mutant skiing squirrel
It’s been a while since I’ve had one of my bizarre dreams. I had one just last night, as with most of my dreams, they usually start out quite bland. Your average run of the mill dream which perhaps is just an extension of your subconscious fueled by recent events or thoughts.
And just when I’ve been lulled into a sense of security that I can continue sleeping peacefully, I’m rudely awoken by my body jerking into a mad arm-flailing, leg-kicking exercise.
In my dreams I’m usually a representation of myself, I am aware that it is me in that dream but I don’t look like me, in this particular dream, I’m a little girl and I’m in this empty house with a couple of boys trying to figure out one of these two things:
1. How the heck do we get out of this dump?
2. Why is there a swarm of matter-devouring flies and how do we get out without them following us? (matter devouring flies probably came from the movie The Day Time Stood Still which I was sort of watching before bedtime)
Someone then said, “Maybe there’s something up there?”, pointing to a gaping hole in the ceilling.
“Could be a dead animal or something”, I said. Which turned to be true.
So Boy takes a stick , whacks the dead thing from the ceilling cavity onto the ground in a very undignified plop, which I reacted to by screaming like a little girl (which I was). It would’ve been great if this ended here and we lived happily ever after, but nooooo…. this is not how my dreamworld works.
I immediately noticed that the ‘thing’ which turned out to be a squirrel wasn’t completely dead. Normal squirrels are cute things aren’t they? But my dreamworld squirrels are almost comically frightening. Don’t laugh, but as the squirrel twitched back to life, I realised that it was making its way towards me in, dragging and wriggling towards me like a fluffly zombie. I started screaming for it to stay the heck away from me. As it came closer, I got a better look at it and it turns out, it’s a mutated squirrel with feet that look like skiis, pointing in opposite directions.
I realise this might be pretty difficult to imagine, so try and imagine a squirrel with abnormally long paws/hands/feet (whatever) shaped like skiis. Easy.
This is when I began screaming even more because the damn mutant squirrel decided to jump on to my legs. That’s when I woke up frantically trying to kick a bloody dream off my leg. I’m getting an anxiety attack just thinking about it.
Read more about mutant squirrels … http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-561946/The-pack-mutant-black-squirrels-giving-Britains-grey-population-taste-medicine.html
Just one gonad for me, thanks
Facist dictators are truly intriguing and even has we hurtle towards the unknown, we can never ignore the significance the powers of ‘evil’ have had over our past, present and our future. Till today and for a millenia to come if earth survives it, we continue to discuss the sordid details of their life and death. As much as we would deny it, we as a species have a preoccupation over all that is morose so much so we dedicate ourselves to learning as much as we possibly could about evil and its human incarnations.
I came across a snippet of information not so recently that the Spanish dictator General Francisco Franco, is monorchid, meaning he has uno gonad. Which led me to ponder the significance of this revelation and why we need to know he’s got only one testicle and whether the relation to Adof Hitler having only testicle has any bearing on someone becoming a facist dictator. Ok you’re probably asking, what does all this have to do with ME!? Well it doesn’t really. It’s just one of those interesting facts you can bring up in a conversation, so I have decided to share this little fact with you.
Like, “Hey, did you know that Francisco Franco had only one testicle? Imagine that…”
“I’m sorry, who exactly IS Fracisco Franco, is he some footballer?”
“Ok, nevermind. Did you know that Adolf Hitler had only one testicle? Imagine that…”
“Wow.”
You see?
I don’t care how cute you think it is, it’s just not natural
I fear I may be the only person here that is more than a little freaked out that animals are being manufactured into sizes deemed to be more pleasing to the human eye or more desirable as pets. I’m not unleashing the inner animal activist, I’m simply not comfortable with miniature animals, well miniature pigs to be exact. Why the sudden reaction to miniature pigs you say? Ok so I’m rather behind the times when it comes to the pet du jour but my old man sent me a pigture which contrary to popular reactions did not make me go ‘awwww’ as much as ‘ewwww’!
But tiny pigs are so adorable you must say! I just can’t agree. I had a debate a rather interesting debate with Nibbly Pig about this and my argument is that tiny tea-cup sized piglets are simply not natural. Perhaps many thousands or millions of years ago a giant pig or a giant bull was rather normal. You’d be walking along in your loin-cloth minding your own business when you hear the familiar grunt of a giant wild-boar the size of a speed-boat behind some bushes. Your logical humanoid thought process then kicks in and you ask yourself, “Shall I kill it with my spear, run like mad before it gores me to pieces or take it home for the children as a pet?” However, these miniature pigs are bred as pets and have been crossbred probably a hundred times in order to get the perfect mini-pig recipe, obviously these breeders divulge only vague details of how they came about so as not to gross us out. They didn’t ‘evolve’ into mini pigs as such. So I think I win the argument on the evolution theory front.
Therefore, when I’m suddenly forced to accept that there now exists piglets the size of tea cups running about on the kitchen table while you have bacon and eggs for breakfast, it’s all rather frightening and bizarre. As I’m sitting here at my desk occasionally glancing at my tea-mug, I imagine a miniscule piglet trotting about, snuffling on my notepad and I feel like I’m about to get an anxiety attack.
I’ll calm myself down with these…
