Last week, VG went on a bit of a shopping mission, and as often occurs when she embarks on such missions, she returned with a great number of items not really detailed in her original quest, and only some of the items that actually were. None the less, this tends to work out well for all involved, with the notable exception of the credit card. Among her purchased items, one could find 'summer slippers' (fluffy thongs), a few other boring items, and surprises! Yes! Surprises!
Treating us like the overgrown children we really are, VG picked up a treat for myself and Fandango Jones, namely, chocolate filled advent calendars. Fandango received the really cool Transformers one (old designs!!), while I received the notably shitty 'Marvel Superheroes' calendar. Together at last, I can view Spiderman, The Incredible Hulk, and some other hero I don't even know the name of in their full, spectacular, chocolate backed glory. Dear, if you really loved me, you would have got me the Freddo calendar. A DIFFERENT FREDDO FOR EVERY DAY OF DECEMBER! Obvious, I'd have thought. Ah well, never mind.
But then... then I realised that she had provided me with a most awesome gift. The gift of jealousy! You see, my teamlead is a complete and total manchild. He buys so many games, usually purely based on the hype they receive around them. He has man-toys (warhammer) hidden from his girlfriend in other peoples' desk drawers around the office. He giggles as he hijacks coworkers msn conversations foolishly left open on an unlocked workstation, writing witty and derisive insights such as lol!, I like poo!, and I'm a fag!. But most of all, he likes comics. Marvel comics!
The only assumption I am left with, is that my partner is now quite wittingly encouraging me to
bribe, or at least seriously taunt my boss with my newly acquired possession. There is clearly no other option.
How I will carry this out however, I have no idea. At the moment, everything is backfiring on me and I have little doubt that any attempts to misuse this advent calendar will likely end with me wearing a great deal of chocolate, quite possibly on my arse, while hopping around on one foot, perhaps partially blinded. In fact, those last two things happened to me (along with several other little bits of tragic) the last time I really, truly tried to humiliate a coworker - so I speak from quite extensive experience.
But really. In this last week or so, do you realise how many times I've been to the same stinking, bogan filled shopping centre? Do you have any conception of the number of children being marshaled - and I use the word marshaled very fucking loosely indeed - by inconsiderate, line pushing, aisle blocking, noise emitting, god fearing Aussie Battlers? Do you realise that while writing this post, Cold Chisel came up on my playlist? And that now, mere minutes later, Alanis Cunting Morisette just came on as well? Given that I've never owned nor enjoyed either of these 'artists', both of these events in the musical timeline of my day, nay life, should be highly improbable, if not outright impossible. Kittens and rainbows this is not.
But I digress. Maybe I'm being totally unfair on these tools (both the artists and the bogans, you understand). It must be difficult being a bogan. All those inner city types who just don't understand your stringent set of revolving door, Today Tonight style morals which they so frequently go out of their way to offend by doing such things as breathing and existing. And then, those inner city types, they'll do other things too. Like have facial piercings. Or wear slogans on shirts that actually read as a sentence, instead of disjointed words in varying fonts and sizes. Some even have political opinions! And I swear, last week, I saw one eat foreign food. It's just not cricket.
What a fucked up world of sensibility these people must live in. Well may we make jokes about VB, supporting the coppers, meat and three veg and shopping at kmart, but it's all fucking true, and they're all fucking proud of it. These are the same people who criticize the yanks for being backwards, but really, they're just as guilty of remaining wilfully ignorant about the world around them, or indeed even such advanced scientific theory as appropriate eating for climate. Don't get me wrong - I'm a huge fan of the traditional aussie christmas... forty degrees and we'll all be out playing cricket in the sun, drinking heavily, eagerly awaiting our roast pork, our roast turkey, roast chickens, roast beef, potato salad, pasta salad, and of course, a flaming pudding. But fucking really, does this principle need to be applied to every fucking Sunday? Do we need a miniature version of it on our plates every night of the week? Fucking really - we essentially live on a very large dessert island, and we insist on farming and eating food typical of your average miner living somewhere in the rain and cold of the north of england, and swilling it all down with VB, the end result of many failed ale and brewing experiments from the days of british invasion.
Perhaps the one redeeming feature of this nation of fools is the sentimentality they so dearly cling to in the face of progress. All of their stupidity seems, guided by whatever ridiculous excuse, essentially comes down to some kind of base emotion. Just like Tamagotchis. Or, if you prefer, the driving forces in a childrens educational video game. The other major bugbear of my week - connex - completely does away with any such notion, and will just arbitrarily screw around with your life, with no reason, excuse or indeed apology offered, with the obvious exception of that ridiculous 'Connex apologises for this delay' recording, which is about as sincere an apology as shit on toast is a delicious breakfast.
Interestingly, the major aspects of their fuckups this week haven't actually directly affected me. I've sat in my office nursing a coffee while reading the paper, and have been in the privileged position to sit there and shake my head in disbelief, instead of shaking my fist at everyone in my path in the unenviable position that would be being in the middle of one of their many, many cock ups. What has affected me, however, is the increasing number of incredibly angry people stamping their way onto trams and trains, and worse still, the even angrier ones stamping pushing and yelling their way around platforms and associated stationy areas. I have very little doubt their reasons for anger are quite legitimate, but I must say it's a pretty contagious attitude. One person stands on your feet, looks at you as if they're just daring you to bitch about it, then walks off scowling, and that's a good few hours ahead of you ruined.
Perhaps Connex should try and redeem itself by handing out free Marvel advent calendars at city stations. Sure, at first everyone would be completely perplexed, but I'm sure they'd all eventually end up causing everyone great delight as part of a extremely elaborate teamlead trap. Sure, they may not know my teamlead (though he does seem to know a remarkable number of people), but he has such comical reactions to pretty much everything that I'm sure they'd enjoy it. I certainly would, and having the commuting population of Melbourne directed right to his desk would save me a hell of a lot of time and effort.
How is your week going? Angry? Not angry enough? Surrounded by bogans? Are a bogan? I'm sure we can find some kind of non lethal cure...
Treating us like the overgrown children we really are, VG picked up a treat for myself and Fandango Jones, namely, chocolate filled advent calendars. Fandango received the really cool Transformers one (old designs!!), while I received the notably shitty 'Marvel Superheroes' calendar. Together at last, I can view Spiderman, The Incredible Hulk, and some other hero I don't even know the name of in their full, spectacular, chocolate backed glory. Dear, if you really loved me, you would have got me the Freddo calendar. A DIFFERENT FREDDO FOR EVERY DAY OF DECEMBER! Obvious, I'd have thought. Ah well, never mind.
But then... then I realised that she had provided me with a most awesome gift. The gift of jealousy! You see, my teamlead is a complete and total manchild. He buys so many games, usually purely based on the hype they receive around them. He has man-toys (warhammer) hidden from his girlfriend in other peoples' desk drawers around the office. He giggles as he hijacks coworkers msn conversations foolishly left open on an unlocked workstation, writing witty and derisive insights such as lol!, I like poo!, and I'm a fag!. But most of all, he likes comics. Marvel comics!
The only assumption I am left with, is that my partner is now quite wittingly encouraging me to
bribe, or at least seriously taunt my boss with my newly acquired possession. There is clearly no other option.
How I will carry this out however, I have no idea. At the moment, everything is backfiring on me and I have little doubt that any attempts to misuse this advent calendar will likely end with me wearing a great deal of chocolate, quite possibly on my arse, while hopping around on one foot, perhaps partially blinded. In fact, those last two things happened to me (along with several other little bits of tragic) the last time I really, truly tried to humiliate a coworker - so I speak from quite extensive experience.
But really. In this last week or so, do you realise how many times I've been to the same stinking, bogan filled shopping centre? Do you have any conception of the number of children being marshaled - and I use the word marshaled very fucking loosely indeed - by inconsiderate, line pushing, aisle blocking, noise emitting, god fearing Aussie Battlers? Do you realise that while writing this post, Cold Chisel came up on my playlist? And that now, mere minutes later, Alanis Cunting Morisette just came on as well? Given that I've never owned nor enjoyed either of these 'artists', both of these events in the musical timeline of my day, nay life, should be highly improbable, if not outright impossible. Kittens and rainbows this is not.
But I digress. Maybe I'm being totally unfair on these tools (both the artists and the bogans, you understand). It must be difficult being a bogan. All those inner city types who just don't understand your stringent set of revolving door, Today Tonight style morals which they so frequently go out of their way to offend by doing such things as breathing and existing. And then, those inner city types, they'll do other things too. Like have facial piercings. Or wear slogans on shirts that actually read as a sentence, instead of disjointed words in varying fonts and sizes. Some even have political opinions! And I swear, last week, I saw one eat foreign food. It's just not cricket.
What a fucked up world of sensibility these people must live in. Well may we make jokes about VB, supporting the coppers, meat and three veg and shopping at kmart, but it's all fucking true, and they're all fucking proud of it. These are the same people who criticize the yanks for being backwards, but really, they're just as guilty of remaining wilfully ignorant about the world around them, or indeed even such advanced scientific theory as appropriate eating for climate. Don't get me wrong - I'm a huge fan of the traditional aussie christmas... forty degrees and we'll all be out playing cricket in the sun, drinking heavily, eagerly awaiting our roast pork, our roast turkey, roast chickens, roast beef, potato salad, pasta salad, and of course, a flaming pudding. But fucking really, does this principle need to be applied to every fucking Sunday? Do we need a miniature version of it on our plates every night of the week? Fucking really - we essentially live on a very large dessert island, and we insist on farming and eating food typical of your average miner living somewhere in the rain and cold of the north of england, and swilling it all down with VB, the end result of many failed ale and brewing experiments from the days of british invasion.
Perhaps the one redeeming feature of this nation of fools is the sentimentality they so dearly cling to in the face of progress. All of their stupidity seems, guided by whatever ridiculous excuse, essentially comes down to some kind of base emotion. Just like Tamagotchis. Or, if you prefer, the driving forces in a childrens educational video game. The other major bugbear of my week - connex - completely does away with any such notion, and will just arbitrarily screw around with your life, with no reason, excuse or indeed apology offered, with the obvious exception of that ridiculous 'Connex apologises for this delay' recording, which is about as sincere an apology as shit on toast is a delicious breakfast.
Interestingly, the major aspects of their fuckups this week haven't actually directly affected me. I've sat in my office nursing a coffee while reading the paper, and have been in the privileged position to sit there and shake my head in disbelief, instead of shaking my fist at everyone in my path in the unenviable position that would be being in the middle of one of their many, many cock ups. What has affected me, however, is the increasing number of incredibly angry people stamping their way onto trams and trains, and worse still, the even angrier ones stamping pushing and yelling their way around platforms and associated stationy areas. I have very little doubt their reasons for anger are quite legitimate, but I must say it's a pretty contagious attitude. One person stands on your feet, looks at you as if they're just daring you to bitch about it, then walks off scowling, and that's a good few hours ahead of you ruined.
Perhaps Connex should try and redeem itself by handing out free Marvel advent calendars at city stations. Sure, at first everyone would be completely perplexed, but I'm sure they'd all eventually end up causing everyone great delight as part of a extremely elaborate teamlead trap. Sure, they may not know my teamlead (though he does seem to know a remarkable number of people), but he has such comical reactions to pretty much everything that I'm sure they'd enjoy it. I certainly would, and having the commuting population of Melbourne directed right to his desk would save me a hell of a lot of time and effort.
How is your week going? Angry? Not angry enough? Surrounded by bogans? Are a bogan? I'm sure we can find some kind of non lethal cure...
Sincerely,
The Rantolotl.
5 comments:
Just eat all the chocolate out of the advent calendar, then put a variety of biting/stinging insects into each of the days and carefully make it look unopened. Then not only do you get the fun of jealous teamlead when he sees you with marvel, you get the added bonus of both hilarious teamlead-hurting-themselves-daily-wihle-trying-to-steal-chocolate PLUS the awesomeness of teamlead losing his faith in a childhood love, as each day he comes to associate marvel with bee stings in a sadistic pavlovian insect chocolate bonanza!
VG is totally the most thoughtful =D
"Sadistic pavlovian insect chocolate bonanza!"
Next album title, Captain Bismark?
For all those wondering, the Rantolotl has only been in the mentioned horrible shopping center twice (this week) - such is the overbearing power of it's shittyness!
"For all those wondering, the Rantolotl has only been in the mentioned horrible shopping center twice (this week) - such is the overbearing power of it's shittyness!"
Actually, I went there with VG some time last week as well - so if it wasn't within the last week, it was certainly close enough so to fall into the 'week or so' category. And three times too many, I may add.
Fucking grr.
Well frankly I thought it was a very considerate and delightful gift. Think...it could have been My Little Pony or Barbie...or Bratz!
typo
"a very large dessert island"
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