Tag: annoyance

1059: High-Tech Hobo

I’m writing this lying on the floor of my now-empty bedroom, covered in a slightly-malodorous duvet and trying not to let the cold of an unfurnished house in to my Secret Kingdom of under-duvet warmth.

Yes, it’s that peculiar part of moving house where it’s not entirely clear where you’re supposed to be sleeping or how, not helped by the fact that my “civic duty” responsibilities in Swindon are preventing me from actually moving in to my new place for the moment.

This is, I’m sure you’ll appreciate, somewhat annoying, and it explains why I’m effectively sleeping rough in what is still technically “my” house. I feel like a tramp, albeit an Internet-connected tramp surrounded by technological gadgets and who doesn’t have to beg for change from anyone passing by. I am getting memories of my university days, when I used to proudly brag that I could happily “sleep anywhere” and normally could, and frequently spent whole weeks sofa-surfing between several of my friends’ houses rather than going home. (Apparently I’ve always had something of an issue with living too far away from my friends to be quite practical to varying degrees.)

I’m also ill, which is making me grumpy. I have some sort of bunged-up head thing and a nasty cough. My head feels constantly like I’m going to faint or something (I haven’t — it’s just stuffed up with crap) and every time I cough I feel like my intestines are going to fly out of my mouth. Trying to hold this in while fulfilling one’s civic duty is not the easiest thing in the world. Much water has been consumed.

I tried to get to sleep a little while back, but at 10 past 9 in the evening, that’s clearly not going to happen just yet. I wish it were possible to just hit a button and shut yourself down — that would be much, much easier than the annoying bollocks the human body normally has to do to get to sleep. I’m not even entirely sure how to make myself fall asleep, but I do know that some people can do it frustratingly easily. As in, you’ll be having a conversation one moment, they’ll be snoring away the next. I’ve known a number of people like this over the years, both male and female.

My head is throbbing so I’m going to leave that there for now. This is a rubbish post but right this second I don’t really give a toss. I have to be up early tomorrow, then I have work to do in the afternoon with no desk. Which will be nice.

Still, I just have to keep an eye on the long-term goal. When all this is done and dusted I’ll be living where I want to be and life will (hopefully) be good. I just wish there was a fast-forward button to jump through this annoying bit.

#oneaday, Day 309: One Of Those Days

Nearly everyone I’ve spoken to has had an absolutely terrible day today. If you are one of those people who has had a terrible day, I offer my sympathies, condolences, fistbumps, high fives, whattups, hugs, manly nipple tweaks or cock-punches (take your pick) and understand entirely if you’re currently feeling a bit less-than-optimum.

Me, I’m right there with you. I too have had a pretty rubbish day. For starters, I had a job interview. That in itself is not, in fact, rubbish. It’s something which should be celebrated and applauded, given the length of time I’ve been jobhunting without success. However, the fact that I drove 120 miles for said interview only to discover at the interview that the job in question was only likely to be for four or five hours a week? That was rather more irritating. Particularly as the interview itself was lengthy, stressful and presided over by one quite attractive and pleasant woman and one rather rude lady. I spent the whole day with bubbling bowels, and for what? Naff all, it seems.

I then had to drive 120 miles back home. Fortunately, I’d done the driving there last night, as I didn’t fancy going there and back in one day. But, as luck would have it, tonight was National Traffic And Roadworks Appreciation Day, with everyone driving extra-slowly to admire the one set of roadworks on the M25, then the next set of roadworks on the M25, then the roadworks in the Hatfield Tunnel on the A1(M), then the roadworks about two miles further up on the A1(M). All told, it took somewhere in the region of A Very Long Time to get home, during which I was feeling very tired and a bit embittered at the fact I’d pretty much wasted a day I could have spent doing far better and/or more productive things.

Sadly, the surprises the day had to offer didn’t end there, either. I knew that today I’d be hearing from another job—one that I was particularly enthusiastic about and very much looking forward to the possibility of doing—so I was prepared, but feeling reasonably confident after my interview and my contact with the employers in question. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Apparently I was near the top of the list, just not top of the list. Perhaps it was one of those situations where they just had to pick one person or the other. And, as luck would have it, it wasn’t me.

In some senses, it’s a bit of a lottery, applying for a job you really want. Because all the preparation in the world, all the confidence you exude in the interview, all the important buzzwords you try and drop into conversation, all the thought-provoking questions you provide; sometimes it just comes down to a simple choice. And sometimes that choice isn’t going to favour you.

I just kind of think it’s about time one of those choices did favour me, hmm?

The Hate List (September 2009)

Hello!

Here’s the official September 2009 edition of Things That Piss Me The Hell Off That I Can’t Do Anything About So Might As Well Ignore Them But Can’t.

Irrational rant and much sarcasm ahead.

In no particular order:

  • People who cough, then gob on the floor.
    If I can cough and then either swallow my own phlegm or spit it into a tissue just to maintain some amount of public decorum, you can too. You’re not a pirate. Or a cowboy. You’re an idiot.
  • Casual lawbreaking.
    “Ah, it doesn’t matter if I speed/park here/drop this litter/break this thing that doesn’t belong to me/steal this thing/let my dog shit there/threaten someone. Everyone else does it.” That’s right. And that’s why driving means you take your life into your own hands, you can never find a parking space (and when you do, it’s blocked by someone who has parked where they shouldn’t), our streets and parks often look more like rubbish dumps, kids whinge that there’s ‘nothing to do’ because it’s all broken or stolen or covered in dogshit, and people are afraid to step up and stop people from doing these things. Everyone hates the idea of a nanny state (myself included) but by doing all these stupid things you just encourage those in charge to put tighter and tighter controls in place in an attempt to stop you behaving like a self-obsessed bellend.
  • Cyclists who don’t understand the Highway Code.
    If you are cycling, you are a road-based vehicle. Granted, a very small one that is mostly person-propelled, but you’re still a vehicle. Don’t swear at me if you come screaming down the pavement and nearly ram into me when there’s a perfectly good road with no people walking down it. Also, red lights mean stop. You massive twat.
  • Car drivers who don’t understand the Highway Code.
    Quick recap: Blue sign with white arrow means “one way”. Red sign with white stripe across middle means “don’t go this way”. Stop muddling the two up.
  • Lorry drivers who overtake on the motorway.
    You have an acceleration of 0-60 in 3 years. The thing you’re trying to overtake also has the same acceleration and there is a difference of 0.01mph between the two of you. Overtaking it will likely take you a very long time and get you into a position where you’re stuck behind another lorry that is going the same speed as the one you just overtook. Why not – here’s a thought – not bother?
  • People who absolutely have to get where they’re going faster than you.
    Subject of the second ever entry on this blog, fact fans. Travelling around London is a sure-fire way to see this. You know the whole point of an escalator is that it’s a moving staircase that you don’t have to walk down, right? So pushing past to get to the bottom two seconds faster than everyone else achieves nothing except annoying the people who are patiently waiting. Also, standing behind someone who has a large suitcase that takes up a large step and tutting isn’t going to make the suitcase magically get small enough for you to get past.
  • Mercedes/BMW/Audi drivers. (Except my Dad, who drives a BMW in the most non-BMW-driver way I’ve ever seen.)
    Those flashing orange lights on the side of your car are not “parking lights”. They do not mean you can park anywhere. Similarly, if you are in a traffic jam, weaving between lanes actually slows everything down rather than allowing you to get anywhere faster. Also, if you come up behind me and flash your headlights when I’m driving at the speed limit in the fast lane, overtaking things in the slow lane, I will slow down just to annoy you.
  • Fat exhaust pipes on shit cars.
    Your car is loud! It sounds like the exhaust is broken! You’d better get that looked at. In the meantime, why not drive like you think you’re in a Mercedes?
  • Using the word “fucking” as punctuation.
    When considering whether it is appropriate to use taboo language in conversation, consider 1) your audience, 2) the context and 3) whether it will help your message to be heard. “Ah went dahn the fahkin’ shops and bought some fahkin’ bread” is an example of the word “fucking” not being used to enhance the sentence in the slightest. “People who do this are fucking idiots” is a good example of using the word “fucking” in one of its primary uses as an intensifier. A “fucking idiot” is more of an idiot than an “idiot”. However, the “fucking shops” are no more or less a shop than the shops. Also, bread.
  • T-shirts with slogans about being drunk.
    Oh! You like to drink! You’re so wacky! “Take me drunk, I’m home!” That’s clever! That’s so clever!
  • T-shirts with slogans about having a large penis.
    If you need to shout about it, it’s probably not worth shouting about.
  • T-shirts with swear words on them.
    I’m not averse to using bad language in a situation where it is appropriate and/or acceptable, but to walk around town where there are often young children and also people who don’t particularly want to see your T-shirt imploring them to “FUCK OFF” present marks you out as being 1) inconsiderate and 2) a massive tool.
  • Men who wear too much aftershave.
    If I can still smell you a minute after you’ve walked past me, that’s too much.
  • Smokers who smoke underneath “No Smoking” signs.
    Ooh, you big rebel. Get you. Now take your stinking cancer-sticks and shove them up your arse where I can’t smell them but you can feel them. Preferably lit.
  • Beauty fascism.
    Eyes age in two ways! (So you must fix them!) Wrinkles appear on your body! (So you must Polyfilla them!) Your teeth are dirty! (So bleach them!) Your skin is pale! (So paint it orange!) Your hair is not quite blonde enough! (So dip it in Domestos until it’s just right!) Your clothes suck! You’re a failure! A FAILURE! WHY DON’T YOU JUST DIE, YOU PATHETIC BAGGY-EYED, PALE-SKINNED FAILY FAILURE FAILINGTON?
  • Confused.com’s advertising. (YouTube)
    Are you really expecting us to believe that people voluntarily sat down in front of a webcam and talked about their experiences buying home and/or car insurance so you could put their gurning Everyman mugs all over our TV screens every five seconds? Because I’ve bought both home insurance and car insurance. Both experiences made me want to kill myself. Maybe I should go on cam and say that. Apparently the emo-looking kid in the purple top (“Phil”) is quite well-known on YouTube. Sell-out.
  • GoCompare’s advertising. (YouTube)
    No-one sits in a coffee shop saying things like “Car insurance, eh? What can you do?” – even floppy-haired douchebags like the ones in the advert. Also, if a singing twat burst in encouraging me to “Go Compare” I’d tell him to “Go Fuck Yourself” and punch him in the neck.
  • Compare the Meerkat. (YouTube)
    Almost funny once. Not funny the five hundredth time. In fact…
  • Insurance advertising.
    Just sod off and stop trying to make one of the most boring things in the world look exciting.
  • McDonalds’ advertising.
    You have a recognisable jingle. Well done. Would it kill you to put it in the same key as the rest of the music in the advert?
  • People who use the word “unfortunately” when they don’t mean it.
    You don’t care that I can’t do that thing I’m trying to do. It’s no skin off your nose. So don’t patronise me by bemoaning my poor fortune.
  • Unnecessary layers of management.
    The most extreme example of this I’ve seen came while I was temping for a loss adjustment company. An insurance company hired a firm of solicitors who hired the loss adjusters who hired some surveyors who hired some building contractors who hired some builders who charged the building contractors who charged the surveyors who charged the loss adjusters who charged the solicitors who hired some cost recovery specialists to recover the costs from the insurance company who hired their own cost recovery specialists to recover the fees from the person whose fault it might have been (but they weren’t sure). Unsurprisingly, the whole case (which was incredibly boring, something to do with a little crack in someone’s living room wall which may or may not have had something to do with a tree outside the window) took several years to resolve, by which time the crack had probably gone all the way up the wall and broken the house.
  • Spar.
    Why is it I can go into Tesco Express, buy lunch, dinner, toilet roll and a few household essentials and spend approximately £10, while I do the same in your rotten little shop and have to spend £20 for inferior products? Also, one of your cashiers needs to buy some deodorant.
  • The X-Factor.
    Simon Cowell was quoted this week (in the Star, admittedly, but I’ll let that pass for the sake of this rant) as saying “The Beatles wouldn’t have won the X-Factor”. Good. That means they actually have a future and won’t ever do a duet with Flo Rida. Speaking of whom…
  • Flo Rida.
    You can rap in triplets. Well done. Now try writing your own songs instead of pinching other peoples’. Which reminds me…
  • Cover versions that aren’t cover versions.
    Sugababes recently covered Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy”. Badly. Pussycat Dolls recently put out a song which wasn’t “I Will Survive” but inexplicably breaks into it completely incongruously halfway through. Flo Rida… ugh, just make him go away. If you’re going to cover a song, show it some respect and/or creativity.
  • Radio 1.
    There are more than ten songs in the world. Some of them aren’t even done by floppy-haired idiots or women with shiny legs. Please play them.
  • There/Their/They’re.
    You learned this in primary school. I can still remember it, so why can’t you?
  • Your/You’re.
    You also learned this in primary school. I still remember it also.
  • Basic punctuation.
    Capital letter at the start of a sentence. Full stop at the end. No need for kisses. “[Anonymous] is pleased today over it really should be better paid for all the hassle going to enjoy a bottle of wine and a good catch up x” is a sentence that makes fairies cry.
  • Apostrophes.
    Apostrophes denote possession, a missing letter or being pretentious. (People know what a “bus” is now. We don’t really need to call it a “‘bus” any more. Same for the phone. Or the ‘phone.) “Flower’s for wedding’s” (seen on a road outside Fareham) is not correct. “Please do not use mobile phones or personal stereo’s in this area” (seen on South West Trains) is not only incorrect, it is inconsistent. “All reasonable offer’s will be considered” is similarly not correct. “Pete’s last entry sure was full of vitriol” is correct. “Fish ‘n’ Chips” is correct.
  • Facebook games.
    No, I don’t want to join your Mafia or adopt your stupid spastic black sheep that “turned up” on your farm. If it turned up on your farm, you take care of the little bastard.
  • Facebook.
    Facebook is full of noise. It’s like trying to be heard while standing in the middle of a ball pit filled with drunken giggling teenagers at the local Happy Eater while a man shouts “MAFIA WARS! FARMVILLE! AAAAAH!” at the top of his voice. (This has now been allayed somewhat with the launch of Facebook Lite, aka We Wish We Were Twitter.) (Additional note: I still like and use Facebook. But it is getting noisy.)

That’s nearly 2,000 words there. I think that’s probably enough for now! If you have any pet peeves of your own you’d like to share, please do make them known in the comments.

If all that depressed you, let Maru cheer you up: