Grrrr

Not yesterday, but the day before - Thursday it was- I had a really bad day. Like a ridiculous amount of things went wrong, such as almost getting run over by an obnoxious woman in a four wheel drive; and several buses not arriving resulting in my having to stand in the rain; and walking straight into a wet tree. In fact I can count seventeen different things that went wrong. It was truly fantastic. I tried to blog about it, since my best blogs are produced when I am angry, but by 10 p.m. I was even too angry for that. I sat in front of the computer numbly, dosed up on painkillers, and found myself unable to construct any coherent sentences. All that seemed to emerge was a string of profanities that stubbornly wouldn't form themselves into a delightful blog entry. So, I decided that perhaps I would try again the next day, which was yesterday.
Yesterday was a significant improvement upon its predecessor- despite still being in a foul mood about the seventeen incidents of the day before, it had been long enough for me to be able to laugh about, particularly the story about the pizza delivery man who freakishly whistled and shimmied at me.

Yesterday started out fine- nothing of note really happened, let alone anything as traumatising as Thursday. So why didn't I blog yesterday?
BECAUSE MY COMPUTER DIDN'T WORK.

As if enough bad things hadn't already happened! Luckily my poor baby computer came home today, although it is not fixed and periodically freezes. And the computer man cannot seem to extricate the virus it has, so it is stuck this way.

Fantastic.

Fishiiiiiieeeeeee shhhhooooeeeessssss!!!

Sometimes, it is just impossible to live without something. Not in the way that it is necessary to your immediate physical wellbeing, for example breathing apparatus for someone with lung problems- no, this is much more important than any life sustaining devices.

It is the complexities of the human mind and our extended thinking abilities that separate us from the animals. That, and opposable thumbs. Consequentially, our mental wellbeing should be prized over any physical ailments and should be considered far more important to uphold. Happiness is key to retaining a healthy psyche. And there is one thing that I will never be happy without, the want for which is all-consuming and dominates every fibre of my being. Of course, it is the impressive shoes shown above.

A cure for the crippling trauma I am currently enduring can be purchased for just $200- a small price to pay in the scheme of things. Despite its diminutive cost, everything would work out better if someone else paid. It would be like charity for a spoiled brat! You get the warm fuzzy feeling from giving, and I get awesome shoes. Win-win. You can't refuse this lucrative offer.

The underwear people are lying to us.

Catalogues are one of the most delightful things to ever be dropped in my orange-brick eyesore letterbox- far preferable than bank statements, bills and letters from school. It is then perplexing to learn that the glossy catalogues, boasting made-in-China homewares and socks at 20% off, lie. These catalogue-mongerers abuse my misplaced trust in shameless consumerism by presenting products being utilised in manners unheard of in the everyday life of a disgustingly overweight geek with an abundance of unwanted hair.

To convincingly pull off a lie, one must insert a morsel of truth. Don't be fooled by the apparent normalness of the delightfully domestic folded towels available in burgundy, avocado, sunflower and aquamarine- they are not lying to you. Nor are the stainless steel kitchen appliance or double page spread of children's DVDs. By the time you have reached the underwear page, you have been well and truly taken in by the unexceptional, commonplace depictions of products. The wool has been pulled so far over your eyes, that you fail the notice the utter ridiculousness of the advertisements for undies.

Might I point out:
Girls do not smile broadly and bump hips with each other whilst wearing checkered boy-shorts.
Girls do not dance around with badly feigned enthusiasm in brightly coloured bras.
Girls do not have what appear to be in-depth conversations while standing awkwardly in cottontails of a bygone era. Girls do not stand in a row and pout seductively whilst wearing disgusting underwear sets that their grandmothers would approve of.

And whilst we're on the topic, girls do not clutch pillows in a half-arsed attempt to have a pillow fight whilst wearing pyjamas adorned with a retro cartoon character of choice.

The catalogue people are filthy liars. It's a conspiracy!

Self-censorship.

I am very agitated right now. There are many things I could blog about. Like, JUST BECAUSE IT'S NOT HAPPENING TO YOU, DOESN'T MEAN IT DOESN'T EXIST. And, DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO LIKE YOU KNOW BETTER, BECAUSE YOU DON'T. Or, GET SOME BIGGER PROBLEMS. Especially, STOP ACTING LIKE MY TIME IS DISPOSABLE, BECAUSE CONTRARY TO WHAT YOU THINK, I DON'T SIT ON MY ARSE PLAYING COMPUTER GAMES ALL DAY.

Unfortunately, I can't elaborate on any of these insightful topics because the people they are directed to, will read them, since they are exclusively the people who read these words. Look at some of the capitalized messages above. If you are reading this, chances are at least one of them applies to you.

In short, I am too gutless to face the possiblity of blogging about something worth reading, so as usual, this is a crap entry from a talentless writer. That is all.

Wait no, one more thing, I just painted my nails and now the back of my neck is really itchy, but I can't scratch it because I have wet nails. Life is so hard.

I love Farmville!

After an entire week and no new posts, I feel that I owe an apology or at least a pithy excuse to proffer to my invisible readership. While under normal circumstances, I would cite my chronic laziness as being responsible for this lack of initiative, there is a more sinister and cute reason behind it: Farmville.

For the unenlightened, Farmville is a Facebook app in which you can grow your own virtual crops and progress through levels based on the amount of experience points you have. The crops, once planted, ripen over a period ranging from two hours to several days depending on the species. If they are not harvested within a period of time equal to the amount of time it takes them to ripen, they wilt and the farmer loses the crop. It is a welcome distraction from the cesspool of boredom and excessive photos that is Facebook- however it has now become so much more than that, to me at least. It is a way of life. Every morning before school I go on the computer to harvest my crops that have sprung overnight and germinate new ones. Farmville is all I talk about.

The best part about Farmville is that squares of harvested land can be distributed wherever you deign to put them. I made my farm into a giant penis with pink cherry trees as pubes, and little fuzzy sheep as jizz. This way, once I have run out of crops to harvest, I can sit and look and laugh at my epic farm.

Farmville is plagued by the existence of its rival, Farmtown. I am ashamed to say that I have a Farmtown, however this was only to investigate the app in contrast to Farmtown, which is far cuter. Although, on Farmtown, my farm is crafted to resemble boobs, which is also entertaining.

As you can imagine, I have been very busy attending to my crops. But, it is time to get back to the nerd life, start blogging again, keep studying and plant crops that don't need to be tended to as often.

Ambition.

After forty-something blog entries spanning about two months, you would think that I would have written about something truly monumental by now. Unfortunately, most of my posts consist of a rant about my English class, or Pervy Old Men, which may be interesting the first time however these themes become tired rapidly, despite my desperate daily attempts to revive them. What I need, is a mission, so that I can document my progress.

I plagiarised the idea from this guy. He was a 48 year old blogger who embarked on a murderous rampage, planned in meticulous detail on his blog. He faithfully told his audience about his intentions, even the dates he planned the massacre for. His readership must have been very limited, as nobody thought to inform any authoritative body such as the police, who may have detained this man before he fulfilled his dream and killed four people, including himself, and injured ten more. He committed his crime in a gym- proof of my much emphasised doctrine of sport being evil.

While he never lived to realise fame, his notoriety has been documented in the news following his ambitious massacre- that's one way to boost his subscribers. He's certainly onto something there, so I will have to follow his lead and come up with some sort of conniving plan to discuss on my blog. Distressingly, murder has already been taken, so I need to think of something else. Like attempting to own the world's largest shoe collection. It WILL happen.

Yahoo Answers: a diagnostic tool.

Yahoo Answers is one of the cornerstones of the internet- right up there with Wikipedia and pornography. As it is such a heavily utilised site occupied at some point by most of the Internet-using world, and the majority of the content is generated by a plethora of grammatically challenged and grammatically anal users, it follows that the all of types of people in the Internet using world can be classified based on their Yahoo Answers submissions.

Know-it-alls
On Yahoo Answers, they are the first to answer every question, and probably refresh the page every two minutes so that they can answer questions before anyone else does. They hold the title of "top contributors" and spend their lives hurriedly researching questions that are completely irrelevant to their lives, on Wikipedia; to defend their prestigious ranks.
How this translates to the real world: They are the people who seem really smart and have an answer for everything. While the rest of us know we can never compete, it gives us secret pleasure when they slip up. And since they contribute so much of their unwanted insight, they are bound to err sooner or later.

Know-nothings
These are the ones who always pose stupid questions that could have been answered by utilising common sense, or failing that, googling their query. However logic eludes them, so they consistently post stupid questions like "Am I ugly?- pics included". To answer that question, if you have to ask then you probably are ugly.
How this translates to the real world: You know the giggly young teenage girls that infiltrate public transport and shopping centres with their high-pitched squeals and XXS sized Supre clothing? That's right. It's them.

Hypothetical thinkers
Hypothetical thinkers: while the title I have deigned to give them sounds ever so creative and Bohemian and analytical, don't be fooled. These are the people who post polls, open-ended questions asking people's opinions, and give their children hippie names with alternative spellings.
How this translates to the real world: They are the thinkers of the lower realms of society, who pose pertinent philosophical arguments in layman's terms. Unfortunately they serve no practical purpose other than selling tie-dyed clothes at Sunday markets.

Useful
Occasionally you may come across an answer that is structured, informative, and relevant; more importantly, it actually addresses the question at hand. These answers are undoubtedly procured by the Useful Yahoo Answerers. There should be more of them.
How this translates to the real world: With any luck, they make up the majority of society. We are in dire need of more of them.

Useless
I HATE THESE PEOPLE WITH A PASSION. They are the ones who post "sorry, I don't know" as an answer to EVERY SINGLE QUESTION that they chance upon. If you don't know the answer, then don't post anything! It is a waste of everyone's time and downloads.
How this translates to the real world: In RL, these people are chatty, perseverant and pathetically boring. Like the nice kid who you can't hate because they're nice, but avoid anyway because they're annoying.

Annoying (by accident)
They genuinely try to be helpful and contribute. Unfortunately they fail dismally, with irrelevant answers that make no sense and have questionable grammar and spelling.
How this translates to the real world: These are the people who try to fix something and break it even more. They are irritating, but you can't help but feel a maternal empathy for them.

Annoying (on purpose)
Those who love to post questions to "test" Yahoo Answers- they conjure up silly queries typically relating to tasteful topics such as incest and racism. Luckily these questions are usually addressed by more of their kind, so if they just keep to themselves, everybody wins.
How this translates to the real world: They are the type to always yell out "THE GAME" and feel a sense of superiority because they have in-jokes with the Internet. They also manage to balance this with maintaining a perfect score in their computer game of choice. They are advantageous to society because they stay indoors or inside EB games, far far away from the sane world.

Yes, I would love to cover a perfectly good T-shirt in sequins, thanks.

One of the many things that annoys me to no end is the "tips" section in magazines such as That's Life and Take Five. While these are delightful publications and I always flick straight to the "secret story" where readers divulge their sneaky or mean confessions; the page that is dedicated to household tips is inevitably a waste of resources on which they could be printing more secret stories.

I must emphasise that I have nothing against tips. I love reading little snippets of information, despite their consistent irrelevance to my life or any task I may undertake. But, the problem with the majority of these tips is not that they are irrelevant, but that they are utterly useless. Most are devoid of any practical purpose, and the rest are so obvious that anyone who cannot come up with these solutions themselves does not deserve to know them. And then there are the ones that end up costing more money than they aim to save, rendering them completely futile.

The editors of these publications need to seriously question what kind of tips they include. While some ideas, such as rubbing half a lime on your forehead to cure a headache, have merit in that they are original and in some way useful, even if this is just due to a placebo effect, other tips are counterproductive. Like craft projects. I HATE CRAFT PROJECTS.

Around Christmas time, magazines boast "creative and original" projects that you can make yourself and give as gifts to save money. Not only are the results, even in the glossy, doctored photos in the magazine, ugly; they are also unwanted. Nobody wants your stupid home-made soap or hamper full of home-made delectables or knitted baby booties. They are ugly, fulfil their intended purpose with limited efficiency, and take you hours to create. After you have bought the materials, made a prototype, then painstakingly conjured up your final product, it will probably end up costing you more than buying the recipient a real present to start with. If you factor in the cost of your time, then your fugly "original" Christmas presents turn out to be even more expensive. And did I mention that no-one wants them?

Another culprit is "fashion" projects. Teen magazines typically feature some sort of way of defacing perfectly usable clothing to add your own flair to it. They will instruct you to "take an old tee shirt and buy $30 worth of buttons, sequins, and pom-poms and stick them all onto the tee shirt with craft glue, in the shape of a puppy". For that price, you may as well buy a top that actually looks good and that you can put through the washing machine without having to glue all of your decorations on again. And there's the matter of locating an "old tee shirt". A top becomes old once it is worn out, or no longer fits right, or has some other fault. At which point, it is time to throw it out, not keep it so you can glue stupid pom poms on it and make it look even worse! Also, once an "original" craft project has been published, everyone knows about where you got the idea from and do not think you have amazing fashion sense because you can copy a step-by-step project from a stupid teen magazine. It's like wearing the "free gifts" like stupid headbands and whatnot that they give you, or buying all of your clothes from Supre. You just don't do it! Why? Because you look like a consumer-whore douchebag!!!

Craft projects and household tips are utterly useless. Anyone who ACTUALLY uses them should find better things to do with their time, and come up with some ideas of their own.

If you told me this time last week that I'd hear this many cliches, I wouldn't believe you.

Currently I am sitting in my beloved English class, after having the pleasure of attending a whole school assembly which took place during one of my favourite classes. Much to my delight, the assembly did not run overtime into second period, which unfortunately for me is English. But, don't be put off reading my blog just yet- I promise today's entry is not another one of my many rants about my raucous and quiescent English class.



At the assembly this morning, some guy spoke to eight hundred inattentive students about why we should do the forty hour famine. Time flies when you're having fun, so of course his ten minute presentation felt like hours. He must have noticed he was boring us all to tears, so he peppered his speech with a healthy smattering of cliches. He told us not to do it for ourselves, or our teachers, or our school, but for the poor starving children. He informed us of the global food crisis, how one billion people are receiving insufficient nutrition (I have to say I agree with him after watching Top Model), and emphasised the gravity and incomprehensibility of this number. He spoke about the dire plight of one single child, with a dead mother and a blind father who wanders around searching for food all day. He spoke with emphasis, but had nothing emphatic to say. Unfortunately for the recipients or World Vision aid, he made their stories sound more comical than tragic through his worn out speech that has been told thousands of times. He even talked about climate change, the ultimate twenty-first century cliche. His unoriginal manner drove me up the wall. I wanted to rip up my forty hour famine donation booklet and gorge myself silly rather than starve on 21-23 August.

It is said that actions speak louder than words. He should stop trying to make us aware of things we have already been told, and go starve himself. Preferably for a lot longer than forty hours.

I think I've found my calling.

Today, I attended Monash University's open day with the desperate hope that they would give me direction and tell me what to do with my life, as I am at a loss. It's not that I'm not passionate about anything- the problem is that I am enthusiastic about too many studies, most of which I am ill-equipped to excel at due to an affliction called stupidity. Despite my attempts to sneakily substitute attitude for aptitude, at some point I have to admit that success in any remotely interesting field is utterly implausible. But, that did not stop me from being overly excitable today as I frolicked around, grabbing booklets and chatting to university nerds, many of which, I noted with sadness, are far nerdier than me.

I spent four hours investigating prospective tertiary education. I managed to garner three promotional bags full of informational pamphlets. I was informed about mathematical science (nobody has ever thought to point out its existence to me until now) and attentively sat through some woman talking about it for forty minutes. And once she was done I approached her, armed with ill thought out questions. I waited for almost an hour to talk to some physics guy, who managed to almost scare me off science in under ten minutes. But, he did not put me off it completely, because I had firmly decided that I want to do a double degree in law and science, despite the prohibitive ENTER score and the cost of completing the course.

I was so excited after finding out about all of these wonderful things I could study one day, to the point where I was wringing my hands- something that I only do in situations of extreme excitement. It was more exciting than being in a shoe store with a massive sale section of totally hot shoes- and that is not something that I would say lightly.

With renewed ambition, I was ready to return home, with a brief detour to the chocolate demonstration. And it was there that I found my calling: eating chocolate. Fap fap fap! Screw learning, chocolate is so much more exciting.