Me Talk Pretty One Day*, pt. III

The motto of the US Treasury: Ah Fuck It, It's Only Money



* A nod to David Sedaris - he comes up with the genius, I merely steal and degrade it.

My Feminine Side

Listen up, lads - a secret look inside Female Culture. Unfortunately, not the baby-oil-and-pillow-fights side of it. More on that next time.

Being a woman, I have an uncanny knack for remembering the minutae of everyday life. Ppl I haven't seen for several months/years will be greeted, and then asked about their wives/children/home renovations. It's just one of those things - if I didn't do it, I'd be stripped of my heels and lipstick.

However, this system of female greeting - because it shows we care, dammit! - has strayed off into strange territory: I was looking in my (lovely!) mother's e-mail inbox, because she'd had an update on the health of our summer retreat (if I'm honest here, a caravan) sent to her, and God bless her, she hasn't quite mastered Forwarding, so I was forced to view her original e-mail. Of course, I had a squizz at what other missives she'd received (What am I, a saint? What if she received something REALLY good, and didn't tell me about it?). There was the usual CHEAP VIAGRA!!! and SHAVED MULES IN 1001 POSITIONS!!! crap, the usual mailing list nonsense, and a succession of e-mails detailing a photographic progression of Jake. The problem, I hear you ask? I didn't recognise this infant, nor his parents. Couldn't even place the name in a context.

Jesus, as women, we're now expected to care about anyone shorter than a foot who can't hold their own head up. Feminism obviously wasn't as successful as we'd all hoped.

Please, Please, Tell Me Now - There's No Such Thing As Bad Weather, Only The Wrong Clothing

In a recent poll* for Arbiter of All That Is Tasteful, I was voted YOUR** number one choice for providing sweeping generalisations on the nature of expressions of humanity in modern society. Jog on, b*tches.

Spring has sprung in the ACT, ladies and gentlemen. That's right - it's sunny blue skies here all the way to Christmas. But unfortunately, the wind has also sprung (yay September), so it's not warm warm yet. Which, cunningly, brings me to my point: what is with the mini-skirt/t-shirt/Ugh boots/scarf look that so many... well, slags really, seem to be rockin'?

If it's cold enough to need wool-lined boots and a scarf, you need to wear pants. 'Nuff said.

P.S. You probably think you look like Jessica Simpson. We think you look like a moll.

* Poll conducted on the responses of one person. If answers were not unanimous, they were rounded up to the nearest one.
* If by 'Your' I mean 'My'

Please, Please, Tell Me Now - Baby, It's Cold Out

Who was Charity? And exactly what led her to be labeled as so damn cold?

The Customer is Always Right - Why Don't You Understand This?

Oh, oh, controversy - a charming way to start a Tuesday morning, dont'cha think?

I'm turning into Dylan Moran. This disheartens me - I'd always thought of myself as a glass-half-full kinda gal - but, I argue, it is inevitable. Why, dear reader? Because I am forced, by the constraints of modernity, to shop regularly at a supermarket.

I don't know what it is about large supermarkets (which, out of the goodness of my heart, I will not name /coughs/ Coles! /coughs/ ) that brings out the blackness of my heart. Oh, hang on, yes I do - it's the dreadful lighting, the warcrime muzak, and charmingly unrelated-to-reality prices.

And the staff. Dear God, the staff.

Here's the thing - I have worked menial jobs. In fact, I still do. However, I always worked as hard as the job required. If that meant learning how to use antiquated diary software that no one had ever heard of, then so be it. An afternoon of my time off wrangling with a multi-line phone system? Had to be done. That's the deal in the real world (or the bit I inhabit of it, anyway) - you do your f*cking job. If you do not wish to do you job, then quit/call in sick/hide in the stockroom. Do not make me, as the person paying for the privilege, suffer.

That's really the thrust of my rant today, peeps - I'm sick and tired of being told that I can't behave in any way towards customer service personnel (i.e. ppl who deal with me, the customer, in a variety of roles) that doesn't involve giving them a piece of cake, a pat on the back, and medal. If you're f*cking up, and it's so obvious that I can see you f*cking up, I want to be allowed to say, 'I see you're having difficulties with that, and I really need it to be done properly, can we call your supervisor over?'

I do not in any way, shape, or form condone physical violence - let's face it, if you need to thump the checkout chick because she's done something that you perceive as a violation to your human rights, what does that really say about you, f*ckchop? - or name-calling. All I'm asking for is the right to be allowed to say, You are not doing this task in a way that satisfies me, I'd like someone else to take over, without inducing floods of tears, recriminations and bans from the tobacco counter.

Let's all work hard to do the jobs we're paid for - it's the only way we're ever gonna move on those Management positions.

p.s. I reserve the right to say to ppl, Please do the job you're being paid for.

p.p.s. Should they fail to do so after having been made aware of the above attitude on my part, I reserve the right to throw dead badgers at them till they acquiesce. Don't push me, sunshine.

Bringing the funny

Me Talk Pretty One Day*, pt. II

Dear God, I love a good acronym. Love 'em. Love 'em like they were my mother. I mean, is there anything better than a succinct, made up word that completely captures an amazing concept? Didn't think so.

Thus, for your amusement and delectation, I have compiled a list of the best. The rest can be found over here. Knock yourselves out, kiddies.

DILLIGAF - Does It Look Like I Give A Fuck?
FIG - Fuck I'm Good
FIGJAM - Fuck I'm Good, Just Ask Me
FUBAR - Fucked Up Beyond All Repair
MARINE - Muscles Are Required, Intelligence Not Essential
NORWICH - kNickers Off Ready When I Come Home
POETS - Piss Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday
SNAFU - Situation Normal - All Fucked Up!

And 3 I just had to include, despite their lack of fake wordiness sounds. These are shamelessly stolen from the inimitable Kathy Lette - who better to describe just how men discuss women?
LHJ - Leave Home Job
LHNJ - Leave Home Now Job
LHRFNJ - Leave Home Rite Fucking Now Job



* A nod to David Sedaris - he comes up with the genius, I merely steal and degrade it.