Wednesday, June 2
Fully Rantomatic
Rights, boys (all 20-odd of you) and girls (all 4 of you), its time to stop being funny and go into Hateful Ranting Mode. Since I am your average teen, it has to be about my parents. Yes, cliche my ass. STFU, as they say in illiterate circles.
Last Saturday, I was doing my usual Recovering From Work routine (although I wasn't at work today, but paintballing uses just as much energy as carrying huge boxes of milk around). This involves bombing my way through assored forums, blogs and webcomics, and my fingers in the pies of each. And babbling away to people on MSN.
At one point, I was even engaged in the process of talking to someone on my amazingly shitty mobile phone. Very importent someone, in fact. Twas K80 bouncing back feedback about Fridays update, but that's only relevant for establishing how much more importent this phone call was than anything else in the world right then.
So what do you do when your mother misinterprets a sympathetic "indeed" aimed at your not-actually-hairy lover in Chesham as a random "indeed" at her? When you're trying to listen to importent phone missives, you can't really put aside the phone, and bellow "Fuck Right Off NOW", or even a less rude permutation? Nope, I have to use a waving arm indicating "Fuck Right Off". Doubly so, considering that it takes five minutes of attempted flight for ones mother to get the point.
At this point, the Mother has been removed, but you've completly missed what the person on the other end of the phone has said. Great.
Long after phones have gone down, forums have been posted upon, and everyone giving a sympathetic ear on MSN has run off to babysit, its time to go upstairs and listen to Slipknot. But no, the Mother seemingly hasn't finished yet.
"That was very rude"
So is trying to talk to someone obviously on the phone.
"I couldn't tell you were on the phone!"
Oh please. Then she blamed the hair. Small ecosystems apparently live in said barnet quite comftably, but its not hard to see an arm holding a phone to an ear.
"At any rate, you could have put down the phone, and told me to go away."
Right, so I've got to pause my very importent phone call, to tell you to get out of my face because you're too stupid to tell when I'm on the phone?
"What was so importent, anyway?"
I gave up at this point, and skulked in the direction of my room.
As I depart the lounge, Father arrives. "Was that an apology?" he asks, as I leave.
What am I supposed to be apologising for? Not having the time, patience, or energy, to vocalise what can be comftably implied by waving arms?
Jesus Christ, I live with these people. And I don't like it.
And back to Big Brother baiting. Every item of fashion he owns, he has copied from me. Band logo T-shirts, hoodies, baggy denim, elaborate hair styles, studded leather gloves, wrist bands.
The other week, I realised that it was so not beanie weather. But at some points, it might be. So, with such untamable hair as mine, I resolved to plagurise an idea from gangsta style (no hate mail, you all suck), and have a bandanna tied from a loop on my belt. Easy accses, and not too bad looking.
Two days later, Big Brother has a bandanna tied from a belt loop.
And he genuinly wondered why I layed into him like a sheep into a paedophile.
That's another tangent I can wander onto; paedophilia in the media. OK, so your average paedophile is not really something to laud, I have two points to make.
1.) They are also human. Quite fairly, you can argue they are less than human, for what they do, But in fact, its probably the same sort of thing fetishists suffer from. The Turn-On Sensors of the brain aren't fired by "horny naked women with legs open", they'r set off by "being tied up, with nipple clamps" or "small children".
What we need to do is to re-educate them, not...
2.) The Media Circus. The tabloids have scoured the topic so far, its resulted in vigilante mobs. Hence, gangs of minless smacktards.
Don't believe me? One such gang attacked a paediatrician. A doctor, because his title sounded like paedophile.
I deplore my species. We're all useless husks of flesh, who claim dominance of the world by virtue of that we're slightly less stupid than dolphins, and feel we have full rein of the worlds destruction. We all deserve to die.
Yes, this did turn into "life suxx!!!!11", but these are dark times, and really, I've got a whole lot more darkess to vent...
Footnotes: Most of that was written on Saturday evening, and I was majorly pissed off. I'm majorly pissed off now, for different reasons, so up it goes.
New links today. My CD list and an advert. I'm getting a free sticker for the benefit of that ad, leave me alone.
Last Saturday, I was doing my usual Recovering From Work routine (although I wasn't at work today, but paintballing uses just as much energy as carrying huge boxes of milk around). This involves bombing my way through assored forums, blogs and webcomics, and my fingers in the pies of each. And babbling away to people on MSN.
At one point, I was even engaged in the process of talking to someone on my amazingly shitty mobile phone. Very importent someone, in fact. Twas K80 bouncing back feedback about Fridays update, but that's only relevant for establishing how much more importent this phone call was than anything else in the world right then.
So what do you do when your mother misinterprets a sympathetic "indeed" aimed at your not-actually-hairy lover in Chesham as a random "indeed" at her? When you're trying to listen to importent phone missives, you can't really put aside the phone, and bellow "Fuck Right Off NOW", or even a less rude permutation? Nope, I have to use a waving arm indicating "Fuck Right Off". Doubly so, considering that it takes five minutes of attempted flight for ones mother to get the point.
At this point, the Mother has been removed, but you've completly missed what the person on the other end of the phone has said. Great.
Long after phones have gone down, forums have been posted upon, and everyone giving a sympathetic ear on MSN has run off to babysit, its time to go upstairs and listen to Slipknot. But no, the Mother seemingly hasn't finished yet.
"That was very rude"
So is trying to talk to someone obviously on the phone.
"I couldn't tell you were on the phone!"
Oh please. Then she blamed the hair. Small ecosystems apparently live in said barnet quite comftably, but its not hard to see an arm holding a phone to an ear.
"At any rate, you could have put down the phone, and told me to go away."
Right, so I've got to pause my very importent phone call, to tell you to get out of my face because you're too stupid to tell when I'm on the phone?
"What was so importent, anyway?"
I gave up at this point, and skulked in the direction of my room.
As I depart the lounge, Father arrives. "Was that an apology?" he asks, as I leave.
What am I supposed to be apologising for? Not having the time, patience, or energy, to vocalise what can be comftably implied by waving arms?
Jesus Christ, I live with these people. And I don't like it.
And back to Big Brother baiting. Every item of fashion he owns, he has copied from me. Band logo T-shirts, hoodies, baggy denim, elaborate hair styles, studded leather gloves, wrist bands.
The other week, I realised that it was so not beanie weather. But at some points, it might be. So, with such untamable hair as mine, I resolved to plagurise an idea from gangsta style (no hate mail, you all suck), and have a bandanna tied from a loop on my belt. Easy accses, and not too bad looking.
Two days later, Big Brother has a bandanna tied from a belt loop.
And he genuinly wondered why I layed into him like a sheep into a paedophile.
That's another tangent I can wander onto; paedophilia in the media. OK, so your average paedophile is not really something to laud, I have two points to make.
1.) They are also human. Quite fairly, you can argue they are less than human, for what they do, But in fact, its probably the same sort of thing fetishists suffer from. The Turn-On Sensors of the brain aren't fired by "horny naked women with legs open", they'r set off by "being tied up, with nipple clamps" or "small children".
What we need to do is to re-educate them, not...
2.) The Media Circus. The tabloids have scoured the topic so far, its resulted in vigilante mobs. Hence, gangs of minless smacktards.
Don't believe me? One such gang attacked a paediatrician. A doctor, because his title sounded like paedophile.
I deplore my species. We're all useless husks of flesh, who claim dominance of the world by virtue of that we're slightly less stupid than dolphins, and feel we have full rein of the worlds destruction. We all deserve to die.
Yes, this did turn into "life suxx!!!!11", but these are dark times, and really, I've got a whole lot more darkess to vent...
Footnotes: Most of that was written on Saturday evening, and I was majorly pissed off. I'm majorly pissed off now, for different reasons, so up it goes.
New links today. My CD list and an advert. I'm getting a free sticker for the benefit of that ad, leave me alone.
