Sunday, October 30, 2011

I'll get a round toit

It’s a rainy day.  A perfect day to conquer a pile of paperwork. Mmm. I think that perhaps I should first start writing down ideas for my planned book: “Procrastination Techniques From Around The World” (ehem, while the ideas are still fresh).

Hold on. When last did I check the hair growth on my face?  I know it’s nearly Movember but even so. I’d better tweeze my chin.  I can’t be seen at home like this, really. Better to do it now incase more whiskers grow.

I really think that I’ll make some progress with that paperwork today. I’ve already prepared my brain to think laterally by spending a couple of hours looking at pictures of Heath Ledger, Javier Bardem and Gerard Pique online. This will stand me in good stead when it comes to using the net as a reference tool. I’ve also done my best to find interviews on YouTube where the interviewer doesn’t say more than the interviewee. There are none.

Has that pile of paperwork inflated in the last couple of minutes?  I could swear it looked smaller a moment a go. It’s definitely on the top of my to-do list but what kind of person would I be if I didn’t first update my social networking status and check for messages?  As it is, due to my twitter inertia I discovered too late that Ryk Neethling was on TV this morning. He was up early, I was up early, would could have shared a moment.

But I missed it, so to cheer me up I thought that I might start a bit of a conversation on Facebook with the status update of: Foolish Friday? Think of a song title then add "in my big pants" to the end and see how long you can keep a straight face. I'll go first. Smooth Criminal in my big pants.  Turns out only 4 people found it as hilarious as me.

I understand that before you start any paperwork, it’s important to exercise your brain with a bit of reading. So I’ve just dedicated some time to perusing a few dictionaries and thesauruses and have had quite a few revelations.  Napalm is not a moisturizer. Imagine my shock. Who would name something so nasty so nicely?  And apparently, angry and hungry are the only two words that end in ‘gry’.  But one will often lead to the other so I think that they need to include ‘hangry’ which is hungry and angry at the same time. I also wonder why the word reckless is reckless when it really should be reckmore?

Did I mention that there’s number work involved in this paperwork? Which brings me to the YouTube clip of ‘Miss USA 2011’ entrants who were asked if Math should be taught in Schools. Its not fair to ask a trick question like that.  I mean we all know that number-crunchers and Mathematicians are just rotten showoffs.

Before I get stuck into those figures, just remind me again what happens when the left and right column don’t balance?  Hang on.  Is that fluff I see on my keyboard?  I’d better go get the ear-buds.

Friday, October 21, 2011

horsing around...

Everybody knows at least one travel-wanker.  You know the type. They say Barthelona instead of Barcelona. Or yaaawts instead of yachts. Or kwa-soar instead of croissant. Or Paree instead of Paris. All of which are equally annoying. Even worse, they’re the kind of people who act blasé about travel but make sure that you overhear them say stuff like “I’m so over New York.  Really, I can’t be bothered to stop there unless it’s on my way to ski”. *  These are all reasons why I’m a bit reluctant to tell all about my recent travels. However, I feel it’s my duty to forewarn you about the perils of becoming a horseman.

Our visit to the Gaucho ranch had absolutely nothing to do with my cowboy-fetish or my weakness for farmhands with Spanish accents. We were excited to leave the city and see a bit of the country side  - though having flown over it only a few days before, pretty much knew that it was mostly just pampas, pampas and more pampas as far as the eye could see. I’m sure outdoorsy types would be able to tell me about the wealth of fauna and flora to be found there, but a simple girl like me? I just saw pampas grass.

Upon arrival, ranch-hands promptly plied us with red-wine and a “typical of Argentina” pie called an empanada.  Just as well, because booze before noon goes straight to my legs and I need something (like an empanada) to keep me vertical. Warning No.1: beware of the establishment that serves booze before noon. 

Little did I know, the wine was intended to give us courage for the horse-riding.  It’s no secret that I am no equestrian aficionado. Horses can sense my fear - though why a horse would be nervous of something that’s afraid of them I’ll never know. I mean really, what’s the point? Do they try and out-nervous you?

Due to my lingering in the background (hoping there wouldn’t be enough beasts to go round) I saw (mild panic setting in) that the best horses were already taken.  I was left with a choice between a mini-pony (pampas height) and a very wild looking horse (much, much taller than pampas height.)  Naturally, I chose the wild one. I never found out his real name, but lets call him “Bad Attitude”, or BA for short.

BA was grumpy that he had to stand next to the platform thingy so that I could get on.  He made a lot of sharp head movements and farting noises to express his disgust.  Clearly, he was the gaucho’s favorite and was used to a high level of equestrian excellence and was pissed off at being lumped with a novice rider like me. As BA and I left the corral, the turkeys made a lot of noise and I knew that they knew something about BA that I didn’t. How does that song go? Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry…

He kept pulling at the reigns in a very irritable fashion, strayed (deliberately, I think) from the herd and eventually ended up kicking another horse, who dared follow too closely. He also kept staring at me with mad eyes, which is probably exactly how mine looked to him.

By the end, my nerves were shot.  Big kisser and I almost had an argy-bargy because he rode up next to me and made that kck-kck noise with his mouth, which only encouraged BA’s bad behaviour.

I was never so relieved to touch terra firma.  With my dreams of becoming honorary gaucho-girl in ruins, all I could do was drink a lot of Argentinian beer chased by caffeine infused Yerba Mata (I don’t care what they say, that stuff is lethal.)

In future I shall stick to the tango.  At least I won’t have as far to fall.

* (True comment said by original travel-wanker).

Sunday, October 9, 2011

auditions being held today for kings of leon ...

While at the Coldplay concert this week (I know, I know…concert-wanker alert), I had a revelation. I think it’s common knowledge that the opening act has to audition in order to secure their spot in the limelight. Actually, I may have either made that up or heard it from an unreliable source.  Anyhow, it occurred to me that people who wish to attend a live concert, should not merely have the cash to do so, but should also go through a fairly stringent audition process aswell.

The thinking behind this, of course, is to group like-minded people together.  But isn’t that what ‘golden circle’, ‘standing’ and ‘seated’ already do, I hear you say?  No.  When golden circle and standing have sold out, then the only thing left is seated, even if you’re not really the sitting type.  I daresay, even golden circle and standing should be divided up.  Here are a few more realistic ways of grouping an audience:

There are always, always, ALWAYS people who whinge before, during or after a concert.  Sometimes, they do all three (if they’re really good at it). “Oh my god, the queue”, “stop pushing”, “the acoustics suck”, “you’ve just messed your beer on me”, “could you get off your boyfriend’s shoulder’s - I can’t see”, ”it took us 3 hours to get out of there”.  These are all typical (but not limited to) whinge-points aimed at friends or strangers.  

If they’re not brave enough to whinge to strangers, then they will find a way to ear-fuck you if they’re in your circle of friends: “Actually, I thought we were all going to stick together”, ”I can’t believe you just abandoned me”,  “I can’t believe some people come to a concert and get drunk”, “I can’t believe you are so drunk’, “‘I wish I was more drunk”. These are typical (but not limited to) whinge-points aimed at you by someone you know and (quite horrifically) chose to accompany to the concert.  These people will not even make the short-list in the audition. They will be sent straight home. Also, unfriend immediately and not only on Facebook.

I don’t like to be shortist, but this group often accidentally overlaps with the inclined-to-whinge group.  It’s long been an intention of mine to patent “blow up shoes” (sold at the “official merchandise” kiosk at the concert).  They would be slip on (like hotel slippers) and inflatable (like a lilo) and can be inflated to suit your needs (i.e. a lot of hot air if you are very short, not so much hot air if you are just a little bit short.)  I think that there will be a huge market for these.  But, if this doesn’t pan out, then surely (like in school photos – which I think work very well) short people should be sent to the front rows and should just have to make friends with other short people for the night.  Sorry, but you can’t hang with your tall friends and whinge. You have to choose.  Measure up and commit to the process in the audition and you’ll thank yourself later on.

These are the would-be-muso’s who are just too cool to clap or sing along.  At a glance it might even appear that they are so, so musical, that they are not enjoying the performance at all. 

It’s nasty Sods-Law that it’ll be one of these true concert-wankers who catch the drummer’s sticks, or the lead guitarists headband, or the vocalist’s underpants.  They don’t even like the band and know none of the lyrics but because it’s the cool thing to do, they will score golden circle tickets and be the original fake fan.  Sorry, but the audition process will make mincemeat out of you.  In order to attend a concert you have to be able to sing either one whole song from start to finish of said band or, you have to know at least 10 chorus’s (must be different chorus’s) of said band.

This is the most dangerous group of all.  They can audition and in theory could even attend the concert but must be limited to the very high seating where no-one wants to go.  The Mordor of seating, if you will.  There is often a very strong possibility that these people overlap with the “inclined to whinge” category.  If you’re anywhere near them, if you so much as think of standing up you will be met with a vicious glare and be told to ‘sit down, I can’t see’. The audition process for these people is more of a CT scan, to see if they are incapable of standing (understandable really, though the ‘unable-to-stand’ group is different to the ‘strictly-seated’ group and are often very happy to join the seated-but-want-to-stand group.)  The audition process will also clarify just how deep your grumpy affliction runs.  These people will generally NOT stand up to counteract your standing up.  It’s just the principle.  They’ve paid for seated not standing. Arsehole. Under no circumstances will you see these folk getting swept up in the moment. 

For all the poor folk who either couldn’t afford golden circle or standing, or booked too late to get the tickets they really wanted. These are the people rock-stars really want at their concert because they serve as the best performance barometer.  If the bands doing a good job at rocking the crowd, the seated-but-want-to-stand group will most certainly be jumping up (in excitement) and then back down again (trying to appease the ‘strictly-seated’s” around them).  The audition process is a series of jack-in-the-box squats coupled with a head-whip and a very insincere “sorry”.

These are in even more trouble than the seated-but-want-to-stand group. By the time they are up and dancing they really don’t give a tinker’s fart who can see and who can’t. And quite rightly so.  It’s shameful to go to a music event and not dance.  Embarrassing even.  Imagine the poor musician who has to perform to a stationary audience? How very awful.  The audition process for this group is all about personality.  They don’t care if you can’t dance, they don’t care if you’ve got no rhythm, you just have to put your back into it and show that you know how to have a good time.

Sorry Coldplay.  I did what I could.  You’ll know for next time to audition your audience.