Hooker Heels

So that old adage, there's a time and a place doesn't seem to apply to the people I work with.

Since when was it acceptable to rock up to an office job in sky high heels encrusted with diamontes, buckles and bows in colours so bright your retinas burn?

I mean what the fuck.

Today some chick was wearing HOT PINK heels that were taller than my own kid emblazoned with the fugliest rock 'chic' studs I've ever seen. She smiled at me then looked at her shoes as if to say: See, I'm 'alty' too.

augh. I'd rather have a soldering iron in my eye than smile back.

Another asshole in here was wearing these fucking heels she wears all the time, I don't even understand them they're so ugly. Usually they're off set by her enormous breasts which she insists on juggling on a daily basis. Put that shit away I say.

Unless you are a whore, call girl or actual stripper, I don't really think shit like that is appropriate.

Especially when there are married men, gay men, gay men pretending to be straight and other women who don't want to look at your fucking whorish outfits all day in the same goddamn office.

I'm just sayin, it's inappropriate.

Slip-ons

Since when did wearing white fucking ninja slip on shoes constitute as fashionable?

And how come every douche bag wearing the above mentioned shoe smells of linx cologne, sports a bad hair cut and wants to dry hump any female in sight?

Recently I was forced to go dancing by one of my oldest friends at this nightclub that I usually cringe at when walking by. I agreed to go because she'd come all the way from Texas and that's the kind of nice friend that I am. It pains me to be such a 'good' friend. Wish I were more of an asshole type....then again, speak to my friends and they may beg to differ.

Anyway, was mildly forced and had to feign fun while she boogied down. I tried to ease the pain by injesting copious amounts of alcohol down my pie hole, but nothing was going to dull the noise of that fuckin r'n'b.

Side bar: who ever invented r'n'b needs to be shot. However, whoever invented the booty clap should probably be given a medal.

For those not in the know, the booty clap is when your ass is so rotund, you can actually make the cheeks clap together, like hands but with more jelly. It's pretty dang amazing to witness and usually induces a bit of vomit to rise to the surface while you laugh your tiny ass off--mostly this has to do with ass envy if you ain't got no junk in your trunk.

I'm not uh, speaking from experience here or anything. I don't have ass envy. Really, I don't (kicks dirt).

Anyway, so there we were in this night club full of bloody wankers with white ninja slip-ons, bad haircuts and even worse tattoos. My friend was having a blast as she had said upon arrival that all she wanted to do was fuck an Aussie guy because everyone back home had told her how hot they were.

Let's just say there was very little dancing and lots of simulated sex on the dance floor going on. There were also WAY too many dicks on the dance floor. I'm talking literally and figuratively. I had to keep side stepping and hopping around the floor to avoid getting some guy's giant hard-on in my back. For fuck's sake.

There was one girl in there, god bless her, who looked like someone had stuffed her like a sausage into her electric blue strapless gathered dress. She was shakin it like a polaroid (note: don't ever shake a polaroid, it fucks up the final result) and she probably could have done a damn fine booty clap had her goddamn dress not been so fucking tight. It's a wonder her equally busted looking friend didn't tell her: Hey, fuckhead, you look like shit in that dress.

What kind of friend doesn't tell you when you look like a cheap whore? I mean COME ON girls.

Anyway, sausage dress was so blind drunk, when she tried to drop it like it was hot, she actually dropped to the floor and since she was dancing in one of the myriad 'cages' in this awesome club, you could just about see what she'd had for breakfast. And it was not pretty.

This gave me pause to wonder: what the fuck are these chicks thinking?

But then again, maybe that's what it takes to attract a white ninja slip on shoe wearing fella.

But back to the story, so my friend was getting dry humped from all angles and towards the end of the night, some guy with an awful neck tattoo (am pretty sure it read: my brother's keeper) asked her if she fancied a root in the back alley.

"I'll only take five minutes," he pleaded.

Since I was within hearing distance I promptly grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her towards the cab rank. As we got into the cab, she wondered aloud why I didn't let her go with him.

"Friends don't let friends go home with guys wearing white shoes! FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

Inflation

Riddle me this: since when did toasting a fucking sandwich cost 50 goddamn cents?

How hard is it to put two slices of bread with filling in the middle into a sandwich toaster--how can they justify 50 cents worth of man power, give me a fucking break for fuck's sake.

And how come just when you find a cheap coffee place for takeaways they jack the price up by 30 cents. What the fuck.

I get it, we're in a recession but don't these assholes know we're ALL broke so that extra 30 cents physically causes me pain to hand over just for a decent cup o' joe?

It's as if they all got together in their evil small business owning ways to conspire to stick it to the little man--we're the ones supporting them so why jack up the prices?

I pride myself on trying to stay away from those soul sucking corporations with their shiny stores and ironed shirted employees and instead choose to take my hard earned cash (ok 'hard earned' might be pushing it) to the small business owner with their wrinkled t-shirts and the sweat stains under the arms, disheveled hair and more often than not, at least one employee who's clearly on speed so that is why it is such a dissapointment when they increase their prices, even when it's just by a few cents.

It just seems exorbitant and unneccessary--I get that they're trying to make a living too but why make me, a loyal customer to your crap coffee and the toasting of sandwiches, suffer?

Why? Tell me, why?

And while you probably think I'm a cheapskate I won't argue but if I owned a small business I don't think I'd be charging 50 cents to toast someone's goddamn sandwich.

I'd charge 10 cents. Cuz I'm nice like that.

Hateraid

This week we've got a guest blooger: the irreplaceable Theodore; enjoy peoples!

Sizzler is the worst.

I had this fantastic rant about the invention of the buffet and smoking in restaurants but alas, the elements that make Sizzler a terrible restaurant are no simpler than filling your stomache with potato skins.

However, I've compiled a list anyway.

Number one: Lining up

Fuck that, in almost any scenario: fast food, theme park rides, banks and yes, even women--it's never worth it, and there is always a line at Sizzler.

Number two: Children

Don't have 'em, don't got 'em, don't want 'em--get them the fuck away from my person and especially my fucking food.

Number three: the choices at the Sizzler 'buffet'

When you're a kid, and your parents were retarded enough to think you were mature enough to go to a restaurant, even one as dogshit as Sizzler, you were so excited about M.Y.O dessert you filled your little fucking pants with metaphorical chocolate mousse.

This is no longer the case, the food is terrible, salad, taco mince and potato skins, not to mention the pasta that tastes like it was made by a high school drop out stoner and consists of three and a half ingredients.

(note the cheese bread as THE highlight of your trip)

Number four: Price

21 bucks for the salad bar, 4 bucks for a glass--that's 25 dollars people.

Enough to buy dinner to feed and cook yourself a meal to divide by FOUR people, or divide it between two people, get a bottle of wine and some shitty candles.

Yeah that's right i'm a romantic guy: fuck you.

It is also my belief that you CANNOT get your money's worth; which makes no sense because this is WHY you go to Sizzler in the first place; it's supposed to be cheap.

Also I will note, if you have ANY food at home, spend your 25 bucks on a stick of weed and watch cartoons.

Number five: Not a biggie but a goldie,I would right off rules 1 through 4-- just to go to Sizzler and smoke a cigarette just to piss off parents.

Easy, but hey, that's just me the Libra rising, the scales (hicks).

Anyways, don't fucking go to Sizzler, download the Anarchist's Cookbook, spend 25 bucks on household ingredients and blow the fucking place up.

Oh wait how much is it for a bag of rat sack? Nah...get creative.

Theodore OUT.

the CRAPateria

oh.....the joys of the CRAPateria. in need of a CRAPaccino? head to the CRAPateria!!!

i understand low budgets and staff cuts. i'm quite smart. ok well maybe not THAT smart especially considering i totally missed the glaring obvious point made at the end of "shutter island" but that aside....pretty smart.

ok marginally smart.

but really....crap food in a crapateria.....cliche much?

staff: mostly nice
drinks: modest selection
food: CRAP

i oft wonder to myself as i peruse the selection of crap items in the hot box (ew) why why why oh WHY did i forget my goddamn lunch???? again.

fuck.

it's worse then hospital food. it's worse than airplane food. it's worse then the five-day old leftovers your mum gives to you when she just can't be fucked.

it's bad. so so so bad.

and yet, there i am, in the goddamn crapateria line, wondering if i'll select the day old 'beef' in red wine (cask!!!), pork (feet) rissoles or suspicious looking undercooked 'vegetarian' option.....

oh my.

it's a wonder i'm not suffering from heart disease as i write this.

REALLY????

those are the 'choices'?

i shoulda packed a salad.

all i have to say is: far out brussel sprout (and i don't even like brussel sprouts but i'd eat one raw standing on my head as opposed to the crap in the crapateria.....)

The Smell of DOUCHE

Our band of merry men (and women, coincidentally) have recently moved to a new ‘office’ whereby we are now surrounded by douche.

And by douche I’m not talking about that refreshing ‘shower’ for a lady’s bits, oh no, I’m talking about another breed o’ douche: the ad rep.

The other day, one of our co-workers in our team of awesome, turned to myself and another girl and said, in the most honest and innocent way, “What IS a douche?”
As tears streamed down my face and snorts were audible across the room, I told the person to Google it.

In the end, I felt too guilty and eventually told him the technical definition which I’m guessing confused him further as I can’t help but refer to advertising reps as douches.

It’s a real problem, I know. And I get it, it’s politically incorrect and blah blah blah but have you ever MET an ad rep? They’re not actually people…they’re just….shivers are running down my spine as I’m about to describe, in detail, the quintessential essence of douche that is the ad rep.

Let’s start with the girls:

Never before have there ever been so many chicks teetering on sky high heels in the one place, except of course, for maybe a strippers and pole dancers convention. Short skirts abound and heels that would have most drag queens biting their lower lips in pain can be seen around any given corner and under every single desk in here occupied by the ad rep girl/woman.

For any guy who is reading this, try to calm down, I’m sure it sounds like heaven and maybe if I had a penis, it would be but the way it’s worn is just like….this isn’t the Valley on a weekend night, doll.

I’m not too sure what their dress code is but holy hell, on some of the younger ones, you can see what they’ve had for breakfast. And while the shoes are fascinating to hear as they go ‘click, click, click’ down the hall and watch mind you because they are aesthetically pleasing to the eye however, one can’t help but wonder what the CORNS look like on the feet shoved into said heels day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year.

As for the older ones, the phrase “mutton dressed as lamb” has never been more true.

Shudder.

And while not all of them have cotton wool for brains, some of them remind me of cheerleaders I used to know in high school. Sort of cute to look at from afar but up close, what a mess, and don’t even try talking to them because it’s like…..you just want to snap your fingers in front of their eyes to see if anything happens.

Today I overheard one such cheer rep wax lyrical to a fellow cheer member about the picky eating habits of someone she knew. I couldn’t tell if it was a child or an adult but the whiney voice, hand gestures and incessant sighing that went with it were enough to put me off asking.

Part of me wanted to push her over to see if she would topple off the 6-inch heels she had on but I realised that I may or may not get ‘rushed’ after school behind the gym and decided against it. Just in case they tried to douse me in perfume or force me to wear red lipstick or something like that.

The ad rep girls are like a cheer squad actually because while they do semi-stick together, the bitchiness that I’m sure goes on between them is laughable and all at once like a bad car accident, you can’t help but stare.

There’s one girl who walks like she’s strutting a runway in Milan, only problem is, she’s barely pushing 5-feet in height department so it’s pretty fucking hilarious to watch her strut back and forth across the office on heels higher and longer than her stubby legs.

Oh who’s the bitch now?

Moving on to the boys:

Well, if you ever wanted to bottle douche, you’d just have to shove an ad rep male into a bottle, put a spritzer on it and call it a day.

Identified by artfully sculpted bed head or the ‘faux’ hawk, the ad rep male is not hard to spot as he is usually impeccably dressed….like a douche.

Leather shoes, skinny ties, iron pressed shirts, clean shaven faces (unless they’re trying to be ‘edgy’ in which case, a day’s growth can often be seen). They also love to ‘flirt’ with the girls although, if you are well versed in the art of douche, seeing through an ad rep male’s bullshit is as easy as a,b,c,1,2,3.

Unfortunately, while most of them aren’t too bad to look at, suspicions are aroused as to their sexual preference which is probably part of their pull when selling another douche-y ad to a client.

Do they like girls? Do they like boys? It’s hard to tell with hair that perfectly styled to emulate that ``just rolled out of bed with a model (male or female, you choose)’’ look. And while they’re shiny to look at, again, once their mouths open, you kind of want to duck under your desk at the amount of bullshit that comes flying out.

They also have a ‘boys club’ here in the ads department whereby I’m sure, they all just stand around the urinals comparing dick size and then patting each other on bare backs with unwashed hands. At work related functions that we are often forced to attend, the boys club make a lot of grunting noises and just stop short of banging chests and ass slapping.

And another word on work related functions, the ad reps heads are so far up their own asses, they also refuse to engage any of our team of awesomeness in conversation. The last function we all went to, our team stood in the corner like the ‘geeks’ at the high school dance while the ad reps threw us dirty looks for not wearing sequence.

I decided enough was enough and as I threw back another shot of scotch, the crap house music playing loudly by the over zealous DJ took to my limbs and my body started to bump and grind in time. The rest of our team followed suit and soon we were all chicken dancing in the middle of the dance floor while the ad team stared in horror.

I couldn’t help but snort loudly as I realised we may not be as shiny, our heels may be flat on the ground and our clothes may not be dry cleaned but goddamnit I’d much rather be a social pariah than a fucking douche.

Modern Romance

I know we don't live in an age of chivalry or modesty. And I am well aware this is not Pride and Prejudice with dance cards or chaperones or anything like that...but seriously, what is with the whole 'dating' scene?

What happened to a guy asking you for your number then actually using it? Why do they just ask just to ask? Is it so when they scroll through their phones they feel like big men for having a slew of women's names whom they don't recognise staring back at them? Or do they do it just to be pricks? It's hard to know.

Actually, phone numbers aside, it seems most guys these days are even too lazy to ask for your number. Instead, some of them just think you meet, they may or may not buy you a drink and then all of sudden their tongue is down your throat and they're telling you to take off your knickers and bend over and we're supposed to SWOON?!

I mean, really. What the fuck. No really. What. The. FUCK.

Are there girls out there who actually do that shit? I guess there must be because it seems that a lot of guys seem to think this is the norm and judging by the genuine surprise on faces when met with: actually, I think I'll pass on sucking your dick, thank you--it's evident that there are some chicks out there who are ready and willing to do whatever it takes to 'bag' a man.

The only thing I'd like to bag is my groceries thank you. And I'll take a green bag, not plastic.

And what's with guys thinking that the GIRLS should have to pay as well? I mean, what is that about? So...basically we have to buy a guy a drink, then get treated like a piece of meat and then be grateful if the asshole asks for our number afterwards and then actually calls?

That's complete rubbish.

What's wrong with men today? Actually....are there any MEN left? Seems to me it's just a bunch of over sexed teenagers running around the place flashing their willies and expecting girls to drop their dacks--which many DO! And this, my friends, leaves the rest of us who actually have any dignity and self respect high and dry.

And I mean, very very very dry.

Are we expected to just put out on the first encounter? Is this the norm now? And if it is the norm, where was I when all this took place?

Because the way I remember it, you meet a guy, you talk, conversation flows, he asks for your number then he calls you and then he takes you on a date and he usually picks you up and he usually pays or you at least go dutch and usually the whole sex thing doesn't happen until you know each other for at least more than an hour.

Did I miss a step?

Since when did it become drinks and then sex? What happened to getting to know a person? What happened to finding out whether or not that person has a personality or at the very least, A BRAIN.

And the thing is, all this sex so fast just seems to rush everything else along and while the physical chemistry may be there what happens when he's too tired or the girl isn't feeling well or something real happens--like a family member dies or someone has been in a car accident? Then what? What's there to talk about?

I'm just confused as to why no one seems to want to hold intelligent conversations anymore. Nobody seems interested in discussing anything besides breast size or the way an ass jiggles in a too tight skirt.

And while we're on the topic of what the fuck happened to society--what's happened to chivalry?

When I was 17, I knew a boy who used to hold the small of my back when he led me into a room. Talk about sexy. He could hold his own in a conversation and he was funny and he knew how to make a girl feel like she was special. And while he wasn't the 'hottest' guy in school, boy, he sure could kiss.

How come all guys seem to care about these days is how many times they've visited the 'bone' yard? And what's with these kisses where you can't breathe? It's just like, tongue, tongue and more tongue--let a girl breathe over here! For fuck's sake.

And you know, it's not all the guys' fault, girls are just as much to blame. Maybe if chicks stopped being so goddamn easy and wore some bloody knickers and weren't so keen to get on their knees for a little attention, these fellas would snap to attention and stop being so....infuriatingly lazy.

And they might even treat a girl with the respect she deserves. But I guess if girls can't respect themselves enough to not let a guy treat them like shit--then why would they do anything but?

It's a sad, sad world we live in. I can't even shake my fist because I'm sobbing into my hands now which is quite the feat considering I'm still typing.