Not since Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers broke up and then immediately got back together have the last few moments of a movie so unnecessarily soured what was otherwise a genuinely wonderful experience. Spider-Man: Homecoming suffers from an ‘Okay, can we just stop watching here?’ ending, and it confuses me wildly that someone thought a […]
Upon a recent afternoon at work, I had a group of three middle-aged ladies enter the store and begin pawing through some of the quant gadgets and objets d’art that we have littered across the shelve. After a short while, one of the ladies happened upon a jigsaw puzzle that we sell that, when assembled, […]
I hate people constantly over-describing themselves as ‘sarcastic’, as if it’s one of their main character traits. ‘Hi, I’m Felix. I’m 6’2″, dark-haired, sarcastic.’ You can’t just be sarcastic. Are you being sarcastic when you call yourself sarcastic, because you can’t identify your entire being as ‘sarcastic’ if what you mean is ‘I often, but […]
I know, right? Sounds weird? It’s true. I think it’s the hair and the necklaces or whatever, but at least once a shift when I’m working on the bar, someone will say ‘Hey, man! Are you in a band? You look like you’re in band! I bet you’re in a band!’, and I have to […]
If brief radio flickers and supermarket PA systems have taught me anything about modern music, it’s that kids like to party; the shards of Kesha and One Direction that aggressively force their way into my unwilling ear drums from time to time have certainly shown me that much. However, they never really say ‘drinking’ or ‘dancing’ or ‘hanging out with strangers in awkwardly forced social interactions’, they simply say ‘partying’. Now, I’m not entirely sure when the noun ‘party’, as in an assembly of people meeting with a common goal, be it political, social or celebratory, transformed into this awkwardly misapplied verb that I, for one, feel totally ill-equipped to define. Continue reading
So there I was in the swimming pool locker room…
(Great start to a story)
I had just about finished getting showered and dressed and was just drying my hair, when in walked Cock Out Man. As you can guess from his name, Cock Out Man had his cock out, proudly dangling away as he swung his hips and gayly (old meaning) strolled past me with a skip in his step. Now, this doesn’t bother me. I’m fine about my physical appearance, but at the same time, I have the modesty to make sure that the amount of locker room penile exposure is kept to a minimum on my part, mainly as a courtesy for the other men there who would inevitably start to feel insecure in my presence (ladies?). Cock Out Man, on the other hand, had no such reservations. Not only was he comfortable with cock exposure, but he stood in the corner of the room, facing outward, flicking around on his phone for a few minutes, without a hint of concealment.
Now, you know how when you already think someone is weird, so you keep an eye (not directly in this case) on them, and suddenly they do something even weirder, and it’s so much funnier because you were already watching them? Well, I had my eye (again, not directly) on Cock Out Man, waiting to see how long he was going to live up to his name. Then something really bizarre happened… Continue reading
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Obviously my own feelings of the legitimacy of the matter aren’t hard to guess. However, for the sake of this article, I will try not to simply summarise this practice with one of the many vulgar four letter words that are currently piling up on the tip of my tongue, gently rapping on my teeth, begging to be freed from their oral captivity.
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Internet people are fun. I don’t usually bother replying to this kind of tedious antagonism, but this guy was pretty insistent. I actually had a look at his twitter history, and he’s the kind of asshole who tweets “hey sexi, wanna fuck?” to every female he can find. Idiot.
“Aliens are real. There really was an alien crash landing in 1947 near the Roswell Army Air Field, and the United States Government really did cover it up.”
These are the claims that were recently being made by a former CIA operative named Chase Brandon; claims which are of course, entirely fictional. He asserted that he came across secret documents and photographs in a oddly placed cardboard box during a visit to a public CIA library. The infamous Roswell Incident that he is speaking off has long ago been debunked as the recovery of a Mogul balloon, and putting aside the menagerie of pop-culture traditions; sci-fi movies, conspiracy theories, and other such nonsense, the case is relatively closed.
So what on Earth (and I assure you, it is on Earth), made him come forward with these outlandish claims?
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In an unusually pedantic mood, I decided to…
Actually, let me start again.
In a usually pedantic mood, I decided to wander around my bar today and point out all of the things that contained grammatical and/or spelling errors; which, as it turns out, was just about everything. It started to annoy me to think about how little people care. This is a place of customer-orientated business, and yet there is no concern towards the writing when sending out confirmation emails with typos, displaying menus with grammatical mistakes, or writing up specials with misspelled words. It’s a direct representation of the company itself, and while nine out of ten people around here don’t seem to notice or care, what’s the harm in ensuring that you please ten out of ten people?
After about half an hour of me grumbling about this, a couple of my co-workers asked me why I wasn’t an English teacher, which at first I didn’t read into too much, simply quipping that with them around, I basically was an english teacher; however, something moderately annoying then occurred to me.
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