Monday, June 21, 2010

How to survive being dumped

So the supposed love of your life has left you.

You may have seen it coming while slowly suffocating to death by your ex-significant other’s increasing coldness. Or you were knocked for six when you walked in to find him/her with your best friend making amateur pornography.

However it played out, you’re in the same spot: alone, lonely and wondering how the heck it happened.

There are really only two options at this juncture:

Get over it, or;

Buy a whole new camouflage-orientated wardrobe along with military-grade binoculars to start your new career as a stalker.

The second option is not recommended by this blog. Here we care, and so will try and encourage our readers to take the emotionally mature road to recovering from a ruined relationship.

Plus, we don’t want you making front-page news for all the wrong reasons.

Things to do:

Positive ways to handle pain

As tempting as it is to drown your sorrows with whatever your favoured poison is, this will actually only prolong pain. Because when you drink to forget, you hold off on the actually processing part of dealing with your feelings.

You’ve got to be brave, and jump right in. Read a self-help book, listen to sad love song ballads. Cry a little. Force yourself to accept that your ex doesn’t want you anymore, or simply isn’t worth the emotional pain of taking back.

Drinking a little with pals might help you have a good time. But overdo it, and you’ll wake up feeling worse. Hangovers are bad – hangovers without Fiddle-Fingers* to comfort you will probably be nightmarish.

Friends

Those buddies you’ve blown off during the past few months of hibernating with Honey-Bunny*? They’re still there, and they’re probably wondering how you’re doing. Give them a call, or test out the waters on Facebook. There’s a good chance they know something’s up when your relationship status on the popular social utility tool changed from “engaged to Lovey-Dovey*” to “suicidally single”.

The last thing you want to do is be alone right now. Your brain is evil when left to its own devices. It will try to convince you to commit suicide through all the “woulda, coulda, didn’t do” thoughts involving your ex. A night out with the lads/ladies is just what you need to remind yourself that you still had loads of fun before you hooked up with Snuggles*.

Lifestyle change

I dated a Goth girl once. I hung out with her Goth friends. It was fun hanging with the doom-and-gloom crowd. Okay, fun wasn’t the right word, but I was getting some action so it was worth it. As soon as we parted ways (a euphemism for “she dumped me, sob sob”), I started hanging out with normal people again. It was great, a real perk. I didn’t have to “mourn the death of the Romantic Era” (what Goths claim they are on about, and the reason they’re dressed periodically like they’re going to Liberace’s funeral) just to get some action.

Maybe you also found yourself hanging with people you normally wouldn’t. Don’t feel pressured to now that the relationships with Baby-Cakes* is dusted. Do what you want, see who you want. One of the perks of no longer dating someone is you don’t have to make compromises anymore.

Let me reiterate that: the price for not getting regular action is: FREEDOM. Braveheart’s William Wallace got hung, drawn and quartered for that right. You only have some minor chest pains, so rejoice!

Change your perspective

As with the last paragraph, sometimes to change major catastrophic agony into a something slightly less painful is putting a spin on things. For instance, your Shnookims* came with a lot of baggage. Baggage you’re free of courtesy of their sudden lack of commitment.

Now might be a fun time to make a mental list of their faults and really examine them.

Here are some examples: snoring too loudly, “too quick on the draw”, bad body odour, too stupid, too intelligent, annoying parents, annoying friends, annoying dog.

Make your own list. You’re even welcome to post it up on this article’s comments section below (just make sure your Tiddleywink* remains anonymous).

Self-loving activity

We’re not talking about, um, a “type” of meditative practice here. We mean, go blow some money on yourself.

Many people swear by a drastic hairstyle change after a relationship has ended. Try it yourself. Just not too drastic… Mohawks are fine in flintlock & tomahawk epics. Not so funky in 21st Century South Africa.

Get new shoes, start a new wardrobe – provided it’s not camouflage-orientated! What you’re actually doing is helping to establish a new identity for yourself – one that is free and different from the one you had with Huggle-Wuggles*.

And remember, you’re free now! You’re not trying to make somebody else happy. So you might as well be.

* Sad, totally random pet names you probably used with your ex.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

An Ode to Ninjas

Sorry I haven't blogged in the while. I was busy doing some creative assignments and all my energy went there.

I know all twenty of you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. Anyway, I was thinking about bitching about politics in my home country, and how short-sighted and retarded everyone in it is (and I do mean everyone).

But it's too depressing, and will probably lead me to a very short-lived and fatal crack-cocaine addiction, so I'm going to concentrate on things that make me happy.

Like ninjas!


                                                        Agreed. 

I love ninjas. I've loved ninjas since I first heard about ninjas at the age of five, and will probably love ninjas all the way up to my dying day, and beyond. Yes, emulating ninjas may be the only way I can get past St. Peter at the Pearly Gates one day. That, or possibly finding my celestial permenent record and burning the fucker.

Yes, ninjas rock. It's hard to say why, exactly. Perhaps it's a hodge potch of things. There's a list:

1) Ninjas have great fashion sense. They didn't come up with assassin-chic (it was these guys, I think), but they did make it popular. With ninjas, the new black is always black. And masked. And menacing in such a cool way. Fashion stylists agree: the simple but effective gear is still popular after 600 years.

2) They were medieval MacGyvers. These bloodthirsty warriors got inventive with their weaponary. They were the first to really make use of gunpowder in Japan. For instance, if they were fighting stupid pirates, they'd reach for their sword. The pirate (who is stupid) would laugh because soon, after watching the ninja flail around like an epileptic cobra, would reach for his flintlock. But the pirate doesn't reach for his flintlock. Because the pirate's head has been removed from his body with a powerful exploding force. The ninja has just earned a headshot with his pistol disguised as a sword. Yeah, that's how they roll, bitches.

3) They were among the first feminists. Feminists who could kick your scrawny male chauvenist ass. They trained female ninjas in the deadly arts, so they could assassinate high-profile targets disguised as geisha. Yip, you're a high powered shogun, just relaxing in a bath with a lovely lady when she whips out her war-fan, and off goes your head. Both of them.


                                         Cools you down through massive blood-loss


4) Ninja Magic. Ninjas could do awesome spells and turn invisible and stuff. Okay, not really. What they could do was develop and innovate on methods of psychological warfare. They perpetuated myths about themselves that got engrained into the popular psyche of the time, increasing fear from their enemies. Their methods were later used by fictional crime-fighter Batman, one of the few superheroes with no real power, and thus an increased reliance on trickery and sneakiness. This even got acknowledged in the movie Batman Begins, when Brucie gets ninja training.


                                           "You guys are cool. I'm glad I joined." 

5) Ninjas generate wacky ideas. Yeah, for instance, I'm going to work on my screenplay for the movie Nigerian Ninja, in which our hero goes to Somalia to battle pirates. Single handedly. I'm sure Hollywood will love it, and I'll make tons of money. If I don't, I guess I'll be stuck writing this blog for the rest of my life.


                                                  "Your kung-fu is weak."

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Death and Taxes (and another random rant)

Isn't it fantastic that of the two inevitabilities of life, they only properly prepare you for the first one?

Almost every culture in the world has some fascination with death. Which makes sense, it is a party-stopper of note.

Not only that, but most of these cultures throw in some social programming too. Death is treated a bit like a real-estate system. Depending on how you were when you died, depends on where you end up living after you've stopped living. Humans are crazy. If you were good, hooray, you get a nice cloud, and here's your standard issue harp and standard issue wings. Make sure you pick up your standard issue halo on your way out of the office.

If you were bad, well, we'll make sure there's some space for your ass in the Lake of Fire...

Anyway, what they really need is some morality story and fairy tale about the princess who forgot to file her tax returns. I think the bible mentions it with something about giving Caesar his coins with his face on it back (why did the cunt hand it out in the first place?).

Because taxes are a way of life, and with most countries, with the high level of corruption found just about everywhere, the need to make the budget is that much more urgent. You gotta pay your taxes.

I gotta pay my taxes, and I haven't properly filed a goddamn return in about four years. This got me thinking, what's the worst that can happen? I could land up in one of the notorious tax prisons, where everyone wears a white collar. Nope, no such luck, victimless criminals live with the brutal bank robbers and murderers for some reason.

It doesn't make sense, now does it? It's not like prison officials don't know that in prison culture, you're a man if you've butchered some innocent family, but a "woman" if you got caught for fraud. You don't want to be a "woman" in a male prison. You really don't. All the vaseline in the world ain't gonna save your ass.

The reason the higher-ups can't possibily be ignorant about this is one of the favourite recycled pieces of news that magazines and papers like to cover is male rape in prison, which tends to be really high. Magazines wait five years then recycle recycle recycle.

No, prison officials and politicians don't give a crap. It's part of their neferious nature, and no amount of human interest story is gonna change that. So if you do find yourself about to be arrested for a white-collar crime, there's really only one thing you can do.

Stab someone.

I'm not normally the type to advocate violence. I abhor violence. But I also care about your ass, buddy. So that's why you gotta keep a blade with you at all times. If you're about to be arrested for some stupid crime like forgetting a monthly maintenence installment, loitering or something, go Hannibal Lecter on something. Preferably a stupid prison official or politician who's forced this situation on you. Go mental. Go large. Get creative, start a blood splatter exhibition.

You'll end up in the joint a lot longer than intended.

But at least you won't be somebody's bitch.

And hey, this is one time the expression "society made me do it" is probably true.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

The Da Vinci Formula

Great, so Dan Brown's released another book.

Dan Brown is the sort of writer your high school English teacher warned you about. His novels are recycles of the first one; he uses a formula.

Based on this, I don't actually have to have read his latest repackaging of the same story, I just have to be familiar with his previous efforts:

SPOILER WARNING: (Only applicable if you've never read any books by Brown before)

So Dr Tom Hanks has been called to [insert city name here] by the very people who distrust him, the [insert organisation here]. He encouncters a macarbe [body/hand/dog/Hollywood producer], and needs to solve the mystery.

Fortunately, beautiful and smart [insert brunette's name here] teams up with him.

Unfortunately, they're being stalked by dangerous psychotic [insert weird cultist's name or title here], who played with way too much lead - and forgot to wash his hands before eating his jellybean sandwich - as a kid.

They have a couple of narrow escapes while uncovering clues to the mystery. Meanwhile a mysterious villain is secretely calling the shots.

In a surprising twist, the villain's identity is revealed to be none other than [insert person you least suspected and had some sort of plausible reason to not be the villain, be they Dr Tom Hank's best friend/college professor/dog]. Surprising because they had [a walking problem/lost their limbs in a fake kidnapping/hernia/been the Pope's assistant and was played by the angelic Ewan McGregor].

Dr Tom and his brunette lady friend manage to turn the tables on the villain, and uncover the mystery, which was [researched on wikipedia/a now disproved theory/pulled out of Dan Brown's ass], and millions of readers will now talk about its [bullshit/false/idiotic] implications at coffee shops and bookstores around the world.

In the process they manage to severely piss off the [Catholic Church/Political Establishment/Anyone with a triple digit IQ].

Thanks Dan, for another riveting read. I can't wait for your next [book/attempt to make another crap Hollywood movie/poisoning of the barely literate].

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

I'd sell you out for a starship

In the news is one very naughty scientist who was trapped trying to sell state secrets to the Israelis - although no actual Israelis were involved, and the operation was a sting.

Well, that got me thinking. I'm a bit contrary on this. Generally speaking, I think it's extremely poor taste to spy on your own country, especially if you were born, raised and educated there.

On the other hand, I'd sell out the entire human race for a starship from some advanced alien life forms. Not that I'm any position to hand over privledged information (and as a result of this blog entry, probably never ever will be).

Why would I defect to the side of the aliens, you didn't ask? Haven't I watched enough alien invasion movies to know that we're always in the right, and aliens are either / or / and the following:

a) Strange parasites that (orally) rape you to impregnate you with disgusting chest-bursting creatures... Alien

b) Strange hunters that carve you up in the South American (or concrete) jungles for sport, and pleasure... Predator

c) Resource hungry invaders who strip planets of all goodness before moving onto the next one... Independence Day

d) Scientology-inspired creeps who want to enslave us... Battlefield Earth

e) ET The most TERRIFYING MOVIE of ALL TIME

Except for perhaps a) and e), the silver screen aliens aren't that dissimilar from us (though as far as a) is concerned, I think you'd find in rural areas, other species have good reason to fear us). Yes, the pathologically terrifying monsters we see on TV are actually external representations of our very own dark nature (with d) being Tom Cruise).

Also, it's propaganda. Haven't you learnt to distrust Hollywood by now? Shame on you!

How could aliens possibly be worse? For one thing, if they actually managed to get to a stage of technological development capable of travelling between star systems, there's a good chance they've got some sort of stable society. Ours certainly isn't.

At the rate we're going, with the wars, economic and political corruption, the short-termed self-interest at the expense of society in the longer term, etc etc, we'll be lucky if we create truly artifical intelligence - which will then do us a huge favour and enslave us (or destroy us, whatever works for them), for the greater good.

And in any case, if I get my hands on a starship, I can go forth and see if there's any intelligent life out there.

I have my doubts if there's any here.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Free FaceBook Statuses: Cries for Help

FaceBook status messages have many uses: sometimes it's to let people know how you're doing, what you're listening to or watching, or what your opinions on something (somewhat) important (at least to you) are. And then there's the good ol' Cry for Help. Because you're depressed, emotionally unstable, and struggling with life, but you've lost the backbone necessary to reach out to someone.

For those poor lost souls who need some ideas on an appropriate Cry for Help, here are some options, to make the people in your life feel sorry for you.

Please note, if these don't work, and nobody cares, and you kill yourself, neither I nor FaceBook is responsible for the failure of these statuses working for you.

(Note to FB Police & concerned cyber-citizens: all names used here are random, and are not intended to victimise any real and / or specific person)


CRIES FOR HELP:


Tim just wrote his last note. Ever.

Janie can't remember if it's "across the road" or "down the street"...

Jake knows that love can be found on the Russian mail-order bride site.

Dex wonders if connecting the hosepipe to your exhaust works if you're using unleaded.

Dereck just enjoyed his last day. Ever.

Marc WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME YOU FRIGGING WHORE!! I LOVED YOU I LOVED YOU!!!

Melanie will be unavailable in the near future. If you want to speak to her, contact John Edwards...

Craig needs advice on which religions don't treat suicide as a mortal sin...

Elizabeth has picked out a nice street corner for herself.

Jesse loved the last Black Eyed Peas album.

Cara will miss her family.

Ted is... [okay this one is really overused]

Jen says, "Goodbye, cruel world." [a classic]

Tania just enjoyed her last meal. Ever.

Sonya why? WHY? WHY?!?!?

Kerrie hopes her boyfriend is still alive. And if he is, WHY HASN'T HE CALLED!?!

Jonothan voted for the Republican Party, and feels pretty darn good about that.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

SSDD Day

What's with all the special theme days? I was listening to the radio again, and it was something like Scream Like a Dumbass Day (it's possible that I didn't quite catch the name correctly) being promoted.

Guess what happened? They got a caller, and then all three radio hosts, plus the caller, screamed for absolutely no good reason. I'm assuming a third of the population joined in. And now we know everyone who's got a goddamned extra chromosome.

I think the Human Race has officially gone too far. Do we really need any more arbitrary days to highlight some cause (or, as in Dumbass Day, end up starting some)?

What is it about our species that has to take some half-way decent idea, and then milk it for everything it's worth? The rate we're going, very soon - covering the entire planet - there's going to be a mile-high pile of dead horses with flog marks on them.

Okay, fine, here's my humble suggestion for this whole damn special day thing. Same Shit Different Day Day.

Are you happy now?