Bohemian No!

I'm not usually one for judging a sub-culture....


Ah who am I kidding. I judge anything and anyone. It's an inherent trait I received from my mother, just one of the few things we happen to have in common. I'm not going to lie to you, I can be pretty mean at times.

In writing this, however, the motive is not to be mean, but to save you (and your ears) from the most terrible excuse of a band I have ever seen.

Although I don't know their name, I can tell you this:

If you see an army of cardigan clad men with an casually dressed drummer, run. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!

I didn't.

I suffered.

On the stage the Bohemian army of 'musicians' stood, dazed, skinny and scruffy. They looked out into the crowd...at all 5 of the bohemian little gypsy minions that tagged along with them, already swaying before the music had begun. Those fucking gypsies.

The ominous sound of one of the THREE GUITARS ON STAGE begins to rattle. The lead singer, in a brown sweater, dirty dreads and an ugly face, braces himself and pulls out...


a melodica.

Wanna know what a melodica is?





Yes that's right. The BoHo 'played' the melodica. It was bright green, and plastic. An astute gentleman standing behind me bore the expression on his face that said it all:

"WTF?"

Not having seen a melodica before, I asked what the 'instrument' was, to which he replied: "A children's toy."

Quite right.

In case your wondering, the melodica is not the only thing the lead singer blows. He blows pretty much everything. Hmmm...let me rephrase that: he blows AT pretty much everything.

3 Guitars. 3 Guitars that 'band' had. One of them wasn't even playing...he was just standing there. Swaying back and forth. Mumbling to himself.

Fucking Bohemians.

Their minions weren't any better. The dancing...it was...I don't know what it was. One of them was romping around on the dance floor with a beer bottle in his hand.

Which was empty...

YET HE STILL CONTINUED TO DRINK FROM IT!!!

I could continue rambling on about the number of things I was disgusted with, but it is 1am in the morning and I really must go to bed. I have a full day ahead of me in which I will try and forget that this whole experience had ever happened.

Who knows? Perhaps I will convince myself that it was all a dream.

Human's Suck

I hate being human.

Particularly when I'm doing work that requires me to be a machine.

I hate trying to work at human speed. I hate human speed. You achieve nothing at human speed.

What have we ever accomplished at human speed?

"Landing on the Moon?"

Shut up. That's not human speed.

I need to be able to multitask at an alarming rate. I need to be able to read at the speed of light and be able to absorb as much information as a Shamwow absorbs water at the same time.

I need to be able to type up essays, as well as marketing drafts. I need to memorize a script whilst writing a new one.

I also need to take a shower.

Dammit. If I was a machine I wouldn't need to shower. I'd just need an occasional oil to prevent rust. Humans and oil don't go well together, which is why we will never rust.

What's worse than working at human speed, is working at human speed with a cold. This means that as a human, I'm now required to "rest" and "take it easy."

Negative. Cannot perform said foreign functions at this time.

If I were a machine I wouldn't get a cold.

"You could get a virus."

Shut up. Viruses on a machine are like STD's on a human. If the machine comes in contact with strange, unknown and unsecured programs, of course its going to catch something unsavoury.

I don't have an STD, I have a cold, and I don't want a cold, which why I want to be a machine because machines don't get colds.

"Shut up. You're getting off topic, and are now ranting and raving to yourself. Didn't you say you had work to do?"

Duly noted.

10 Reasons to go and see Moonwalker

In honour of what would have been Michael Jackson's 51st birthday, Village Cinema's are exclusively screening Moonwalker.

When Haylee and I found this out, off we went to the Jam Factory to buy our tickets. It was a hoot. What made it more special was that Mel had come along, and not having seen the film before, we were proud to be there with her for her first 'Moonwalker' experience.

If you have never seen it, or haven't seen it in a while, here are but 10 reasons why you should buy your ticket.

1. The film begins with a half hour montage of Michael Jackson and Jackson 5 hits for no particular reason at all except to make you try and find new and exciting ways to dance in your seat without embarrasing yourself.

2. The 'Badder' short film: If you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it for you, but I will say that when Mel saw it, giggles ensued.

3. Michael Jackson running away from claymation stalkers.

4 Michael Jackson turning into claymation Rabbit and then turns back into himself only to have a dance off with the claymation Rabbit...who's called Spike.

5. Michael Jackson dodging bullets and running away from dogs. If that isn't enough action for ya, tell me what is.

6. Baby Sean Lennon starring as one of the 3 children who accompany Michael on his Moonwalker adventure. What relation the kids are to Michael is never explained in the film, nor why they wander the streets at all hours of the night following Michael around to clubs and concerts with no supervision except for the occasional companionship of a dog.

7. Joe Pesci. In heels. Nuff said.

8. Smooth Criminal in all its wonderful glory.



9. Michael Jackson morphing into a car, then a robot then a spaceship, only to return and sing us a song.





10. Michael Jackson's delivery of the line "Do it and you're dead." Amazing.

The film is only screening until Wednesday, so get in there quick. Seeing it on DVD is just not the same.

"Boys Suck"...well tell me something I don't know

There must be something in the water, because women all around me are on an anti- male rage.

Meh, what else is new. I've been on that boat for a long time, which is probably the biggest contributing factor as to why I'm single.

Call me crazy, but I just haven't found the urge to pretty myself up, dress to the nines and throw myself at fine specimens such as these...




Granted, not all men look like that, and not all men suck, but please take note of the operative word here. MEN!!


For most women out there, and that's me included, the epitome of the ideal man goes a little something like this:



Or if you're a more of a modern day woman, a little something like this:



Oh Mr. Darcy. Be still my beating heart. The man every woman wants, and every man wants to wallop.

Before Zac Efron, and before Edward Cullen, was The Darcy phenomenon. The love of the character surpassed the love of the actor, and poor Mr. Colin Firth could never reclaim his identity as a truly wonderful actor. No matter what part he took after the BBC mini series, nothing ever came close to the euphoria which was experienced over watching Mr. Darcy on your telly. The closest Firth came to regaining the same success was with the release of Bridget Jones' Diary, where he rehashed the exact same character, but wore much more comfortable clothing. I dare anyone to wear a reindeer sweater in such a way that presents women with the quandary of whether rip it off, or do the deed with the sweater on because he just looks so goddamn sexy in it. (Or maybe that's just me....)

Yes, Mr. Darcy. Wonderful, strong, handsome, Mr. Darcy.

The man who despite his best interests fell in love with Elizabeth Bennett.
The man who fell in love with Bridget "just as she is."
The man who came to Elizabeth Bennett's rescue and saved her family from ruins.
The man who flew halfway across the world to free Bridgett from a Thai prison.
The man who said the unforgettable words: "In vain I have struggled, but it will not do, you must allow be to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
And the man who answered "oh yes they fucking do", when Bridgett proclaimed that nice boys "don't kiss like that."

Oh yes, Mr. Darcy. Wonderful, smart, rich, handsome, kind, caring, romantic, perfect Mr. Darcy.

Well of course he's perfect. He was created by these.





WOMEN!

Jane Austen created one of the most romantic and charming men since Shakespeare's Romeo. Helen Fielding followed suit and 'creatively' gave us a more updated version.

My point to all this?

Ladies, the perfect man does not exist. Why? Because it's impossible, not virtually impossible or practically impossible, but IMPOSSIBLE for a man to be near perfect let alone perfection. There's no such thing. Have another read of Pride and Prejudice and Bridget Jones' Dairy, even the two Darcy's have their flaws. But because we have become so besotted in the ideals and romance, there is a tendency to block out the bad and concentrate of the good.

The tendency also transfers to real life situations. I myself will admit to falling for it. We become so engrossed in the fantasy of finding Mr. Right that we start to put any Joe Blow on a pedestal when really, he has no place there at all.

Please don't misunderstand me. Just because there is no perfect man doesn't mean that functional relationships don't exist. I myself know many people who are in one. Good for them. That's great. But that's not what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about your average, and I mean REALLY average guy that many girls seem to loose their nut over. To explain what I'm talking about, the scenario goes a little something like this:

Girl meets Guy. Both seem to dig each other, and flirting ensues. Girl gives Guy number. Girl is ecstatic, raves about guy, guy doesn't call, and the girl is shattered.

or...

Girl meets Guy. Flirt. Exchange numbers. Call. Date. Guy doesn't call again.

OR...

Girl meets Guy. Flirt. Exchange numbers. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Meet in public -- guy treats girl like stranger.

OR MY PERSONAL FAVOURITE

Girl meets Guy. Flirts. Sparks. Calls calls calls...but clearly one is using the other. Guess who.

*sigh* Pretty tough to catch a break. Can you blame a girl for being so down trodden and upset?

Sisters, I understand.

"*sniff* No you don't," you sob. "I'm tearing my hair out over this, and you've got a full head of hair. Don't tell me you understand. *sniff*"

Sisters...WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!

Seriously, I'm all for love, romance, kisses and cuddles. I giggle with delight at them. But emotionally investing in someone who's clearly a dick just isn't right. He's not Mr. Darcy, and if he makes you feel like shit, he's not your Mr. Right. You can't change him, you can't make him do anything else, and you certainly can't get back the time you wasted on him.

No Deal.

Yes sweethearts, boys suck, and men can be idiots, but what else is new?

Why on earth would you place all your aspirations for happiness into one person?

Why do you place so many expectations onto a complete stranger?

Why don't you place those same expectations on yourself?

And if you spend any more time on the guy who wastes your time, you're going to miss out on the one who is actually worth your time.

The 90s scream NO!!!

This has to stop.






Now far be it from me to start being a fashionista. I don't have the greatest taste in clothes, as I'm more of a practical woman that buys things she needs rather than what she wants because it's all pretty and shiny. But this has gone on for far too long....



and I truly believe it has to be stopped.

There was a time I used to wear leggings, once. It was called the 90s and it looked a little something like this:



That's the reality of the situation.

Leggings make you look like a...hmmmm..how can I say this...a dip shit.

Take this for instance:




I don't see any reason to wear this unless I woke up one morning to find that I had a super power and an extreme sense of justice.

And if this isn't enough to make you see the ridiculousness of the situation...



I don't know what is.

"But surely what we see on the cat walk can not possibly walk through the actual streets in broad day light" I hear you think.

Dear reader, I regret to inform you that it has. People of all ages, races, and genders, are opting to don their leggings from outside the gym and into everyday life. My sister, bless her dear little cotton socks, is one of these culprits. I cringe every time she walks out the door in a gorgeous top and these disgusting grey leggings. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I was riding the tram into the city to be confronted with a man wearing black leggings, which were low in the crotch, paired with a blue soldiers blazer. And this wasn't a young boy who's just finished high school and is expressing his new found university freedom and individuality, this was a grown MAN.

IN HIS THIRTIES!!!


ALSO CARRYING A SATCHEL!!!!!

Like I said, far be it from me to judge what it is a person chooses to wear for the day, but I'll leave you with this:

You go out looking like a clown, people are going to laugh.

Pointing the finger at myself...

Usually, I'm very quick to judge the stupid shit that people do. I ridicule and mock them for the choices they have made in their lives as well as the way in which they conduct themselves.

Stupid is as stupid does so it would seem.

Today it's time to point the finger at me.

These past couple of weeks, I have been severely stupid. Not intentionally mind you, but with the way some things have turned out, I might as well be.

As it is, times have been tight where the finances are concerned. I've been struggling to keep up with my bills, and necessities, basically living from welfare cheque to welfare cheque. (I've been looking for a job, but as it is, they're pretty hard to come by). I've been plodding along nicely as it would seem until I realize stupid thing number 1.

I joined a gym.

A couple of years back, my best- friend and I thought it would be grand to bite the bullet and take our health and fitness into our own hands. We joined a gym. We went everyday for 6 months. I looked fantastic.

I have not been to this gym for 1 and a half years. Now, I have a 80 a quarter is taken from my savings. I'm giving money to a gym I do not even use. To discontinue my membership, it will cost $280 for the cancellation fee. I'm so fucking stupid.

Stupid thing number two happened two days ago. I managed to get two parking tickets on the same day, in different parking spots.

I've left the payment of another parking ticket too late, and when I went to pay that, also realized I've neglected to pay my phone bill...I'm not opening it, because I'm too afraid to look at what the figure will be. I'm so fucking stupid.

Today, I went and bought a Pilate's DVD...when I have a gym membership I am paying for an don't even use.

I'm also going out for a dinner with my best friend...when I should be saving up for my car to be serviced or fixed.

The car needs new tyers, brake pads, and all sorts of new gear...

Yesterday I bought $34 dollars worth of make up. It was one item that makes your skin glow. My best friend works for the make up company that I bought it from. I bought it so that she could earn commission.

At the end of all that, there's only one thing left to say...