Some more entries into the gender diary. See my last post for more information on what on EARTH that means. These haven't been marked, so I haven't got red numbers for them. Feel free to comment with my man-scores.
Monday 30th
Watched Aliens. It's got guns in, and people explode from the inside. Man points, ker-ching.
Tuesday 1st
I drank some beer today.
Wednesday 2nd
Just killed a fly with this very diary. There is blood on this diary. It has had its man-baptism. It has been man-ified. Bet that fly wishes it hadn't come into my room now, not when there's a bloodthirsty gender diary on the loose.
Sunday 6th
Didn't write my diary for ages. Winning.
Friday 11th
I'm in a hotel room for a weekend away I'm youth-working on. I have a whole room just for me, giant bed, tele, en-suite. Literally loving it. I don't know how to comment on this in either a man or woman sense. I guess if I was really manly, I'd get a beer, watch top gear, and not wear a shirt all weekend. And fart. As it is, I'll live out of my suitcase (manly) but I'm oh so excited about the hair drier in the drawer. So as usual, I'm essentially androgenous. I did just turn over 'cos real housewives came on, though now I'm watching Dave instead. Sometimes it doesn't matter if you're a man or a woman, you still have to watch rubbish tele.
Saturday 26th
I've decided to take this diary more seriously. It's been ages since my last entry, and although I realise that missing 15 days is VERY manly, it'll come back to bite me. One day, I'll be too fat and have too big a belly to simply 'look' at what gender I am and when that day comes I'll be glad that I wrote it down.
Today started well. The new batman game (batMAN, not lady) was delivered. Then I travelled to Cheam to watch ice hockey (very manly sport). But, as usual, I ruined it all. I enjoyed singing along to Katy Perry far too much, and then I sat and talked to Nic for ages before getting on the longest 3 trains in history, terrified of the drunk people, and walking home in so much rain that it got up my nose.
Also, I think I caught a cold.
Sunday 27th
Storm? What storm? I laugh in the face of your storm, weather people. This storm is so girly, I might ask it on a date. (It'll probably decline).
Also, I watched Match of the Day AND the Italian equivalent last night. Serious football injection.
Tuesday 29th
Got in a bit of a fight today. This stupid guy kept laughing at me. He was really weird, he wore make up and had dyed hair. Anyway I punched his face and smashed him up fun-time.
Oh, wait, I confused myself for Batman, again. It's just such an easy mistake to make!
Saturday 2nd
Helped my dad with the gardening, which is very manly. I worked mega hard. So hard that I later found a leaf somehow in my belly button. I let him stay there a while, rent-free, until it got to a stage where I felt he was taking advantage. Overall, I felt like the gardener who Carly Rae Jepsen fancies in the Call Me Maybe video. But instead of her living next door, I just have the creepy old guy with grubby fingers who works in the shop down the road, and the people who built their bathroom next to my bedroom and who sometimes wake me up with all the...noises...
The gender diary may return in future. We'll see.
Monday, 17 March 2014
Blog 138: Aide Man-oire
I've got a friend who studied geography at University, and he told me that as part of his course, he had to keep a 'gender diary'. I laughed because it sounded exactly what it turned out to be. A hilarious activity forcing you to judge all your actions and force them into categories of 'male' or 'female' activities. He told me that I couldn't laugh at him because I'd never tried it. So he bought me a diary and made me start keeping my very own gender diary.
As I said, this activity forces you to be, well, a sexist, basically. So before you read on and go "Oh what brutish and old fashioned attitudes" please remember that I'm always only ever being facetious.
Here's the first few entries, and I'm sure there'll be more to follow.
Oh I should add, my friend has marked some of the entries on their manliness. That's the red numbers at the end of each entry.
Monday 23rd
I have to write a gender diary. Diaries are pretty girly so I'm alreadylosing not losing...that suggests that being a girl is losing. Anyway, it's emasculating. But I've just been to the loo and can confirm I have the man "set" so there's some points in my favour there.
2
Panicked a bit at lunch, someone said both toilets downstairs were ladies. That would be bad for my masculinity, as well as possibly lead to arrests. But then I remembered there's a urinal in there so I'm ok. I did sit down to have my wee though.
-4
Tuesday 24th
I watched 300 last night. If marvelling at the conquests of bold King Leonidas isn't manly then I don't know what is. It also gives me something to aspire to.
I wish I could say I ate a burger for lunch, but I didn't. I had salmon and cream cheese, and french fries. They only have 80 calories.
-2
Wednesday 25th
Didn't do anything particularly manly or womanly today. I did eat some chocolate cake...which is ok I guess but not exactly a steak. Or beer.
0
Thursday 26th
I can't really remember what I did on thursday. I read the whole of Romans, for work. That's pretty epic, I guess. If King Leonidas read the bible (I'm guessing he didn't) he'd probably read the hard books all in one go too. It's probably the reason I can't remember anything else, it left my brain a bit sore.
-1
Friday 27th
Had to clean up after youth group but my normal co-worker was elsewhere and so I asked a parent to help lead. They had to take kids home so cleaning and locking up was just by me. I felt like a single mum...so it's kinda girly but it's also pretty strong, so a bit confused.
0
Saturday 28th
Major step in the wrong direction. Bought loads of organising stuff for my course. Then spent my DAY OFF organising and making it all look pretty. I even had a highlighter out at one point. I don't know what came over me.
I also bought a pencil case that looks like a shoe. I used to just carry a biro in my pocket. I've changed, for the worse.
-6
Just finished decorating all the stuff for my course. It DOES look fabulous.
-2
Sunday 29th
Just spent the evening recommending friends films. I suggested the Amazing Spider-man, 500 Days of Summer, the Mexican & Mean Girls. Not once did I mention Goodfellas, or Die Hard. I sicken myself.
-2
Monday 30th
Learnt some words in greek.
διότι ούτος νυξ, εμείς φάω σε κόλαση!
(Translation: Because this night, we eat in hell!)
This is one step closer to King Me-onidas level. He was spartan, and so probably spoke like this (but with a Scottish accent).
3
My total so-far: -10
As I said, this activity forces you to be, well, a sexist, basically. So before you read on and go "Oh what brutish and old fashioned attitudes" please remember that I'm always only ever being facetious.
Here's the first few entries, and I'm sure there'll be more to follow.
Oh I should add, my friend has marked some of the entries on their manliness. That's the red numbers at the end of each entry.
Monday 23rd
I have to write a gender diary. Diaries are pretty girly so I'm already
2
Panicked a bit at lunch, someone said both toilets downstairs were ladies. That would be bad for my masculinity, as well as possibly lead to arrests. But then I remembered there's a urinal in there so I'm ok. I did sit down to have my wee though.
-4
Tuesday 24th
I watched 300 last night. If marvelling at the conquests of bold King Leonidas isn't manly then I don't know what is. It also gives me something to aspire to.
King Me-onidas
Wow. Just wow.
2I wish I could say I ate a burger for lunch, but I didn't. I had salmon and cream cheese, and french fries. They only have 80 calories.
-2
Wednesday 25th
Didn't do anything particularly manly or womanly today. I did eat some chocolate cake...which is ok I guess but not exactly a steak. Or beer.
0
Thursday 26th
I can't really remember what I did on thursday. I read the whole of Romans, for work. That's pretty epic, I guess. If King Leonidas read the bible (I'm guessing he didn't) he'd probably read the hard books all in one go too. It's probably the reason I can't remember anything else, it left my brain a bit sore.
-1
Friday 27th
Had to clean up after youth group but my normal co-worker was elsewhere and so I asked a parent to help lead. They had to take kids home so cleaning and locking up was just by me. I felt like a single mum...so it's kinda girly but it's also pretty strong, so a bit confused.
0
Saturday 28th
Major step in the wrong direction. Bought loads of organising stuff for my course. Then spent my DAY OFF organising and making it all look pretty. I even had a highlighter out at one point. I don't know what came over me.
I also bought a pencil case that looks like a shoe. I used to just carry a biro in my pocket. I've changed, for the worse.
-6
Just finished decorating all the stuff for my course. It DOES look fabulous.
-2
Sunday 29th
Just spent the evening recommending friends films. I suggested the Amazing Spider-man, 500 Days of Summer, the Mexican & Mean Girls. Not once did I mention Goodfellas, or Die Hard. I sicken myself.
-2
Monday 30th
Learnt some words in greek.
διότι ούτος νυξ, εμείς φάω σε κόλαση!
(Translation: Because this night, we eat in hell!)
This is one step closer to King Me-onidas level. He was spartan, and so probably spoke like this (but with a Scottish accent).
3
My total so-far: -10
Thursday, 13 March 2014
Blog 137: Post-humorous
I really dislike my old self, the guy who sat at his computer on Friday 5 September 2008, at 13.53 and typed a title: "Blog 1", thinking a blog was a post, not a web space for posts. Now every time I add something to this blog I have to follow some bizarre self-imposed tradition of calling every post another Blog, and no matter how much I try and think outside the box, I can't find a joke that I can retrospectively apply to it and pretend that's why I did it. I'm stuck calling every single post 'Blog something' and I'll never escape. And everyone will think I'm just some idiot who didn't know the difference between a blog and a post. At least I got 133 words out of it though.
Sunday, 2 March 2014
Blog 136: Back in the Saddle
Britain has seen a new face of oppression and of fear. Where once there were bikers, hoodies, chavs, people with ASBOs, skinheads and those scary people who wear lots of black and make up, a new hydra raises up its head.
They have a disregard for the rules. They do whatever they want to, regardless of the law or what others feel. And the worst part is that the law, as it stands at this moment, protects them.
This new problem finds itself around towns like where I live, invading roads, and even some cafes. These lycra-clad evil doers have become far too common in the last few years and today I realised that it had gone far enough.
Cyclists are really annoying.
There they are, cycling away. The fact that they're not actually in any professional competition doesn't stop them from wearing the tightest clothes. They say its so they can shave a few milliseconds off their time, but I doubt if a casual sunday ride will be completely ruined if they were out on their bikes a bit longer. I mean, if they love cycling so much, surely they'd all wear as much of their clothes as possible so they can be out longer? The real victims, of course, are those who have their...ahem..."stuff"... waggling around in front of us like a pendulum while we're trying to keep our eyes on the road.
And do they just like, go into shops like that? "Oh hello Gary, sorry I'm milliseconds late for Lydia's funeral but I haven't shaved my legs today. Do you mind if I just sit in the front row in my sweaty not-so-super-hero costume, with everything just hanging out?"
They cycle right in the middle. The amount of mental over-takes I've had to do in my little car is ridiculous. Flinging my little tiny matchbox car into the other lane to get around a bicycle happens way too often. There I go, rattling away like a Scalextric with an engine that can barely cope with rapid acceleration, flying towards a massive lorry while someone dressed up like a feminine transformer wobbles around in the middle of the road. At rush hour. On a main road.
But ok, the roads aren't just for cars I suppose. It's probably for the best that they're not cycling on pavements. But if you're gonna stop your bike and pull up next to your friend to have a chat about what the best cream is to use when shaving legs, I'm sure you could do that on the pavement. Or you know, anywhere that's not taking up an entire lane, on a bend. So I'm there either beeping my horn at two skinny teletubbies who for some reason are giving me evils, or again, I'm overtaking in ways that would make Vin Diesel wet himself.
Pedestrian crossings? Ah who cares, I'm on a bike. WOOO! Roundabouts? Meh, I'm on a bike. All road courtesy, sense and rules go right out the window when you're on a bike (not that they have a window). Flinging past pedestrian crossings when there's clearly a load of cars stopped to wait for the old woman who's crossing is not a good idea. Because you might hit her, and going the speed your going, you might kill her. The cars are stopping because it's the law and because they don't want to kill anybody. You're not stopping, and it's not because of some rule where if you're a cyclist, you're allowed to kill people. You're still not allowed to kill people. Stop. Going. Around. Like. Crazy.
The worst bit? Did you know, apparently if a car hits a cyclist, it's automatically the car's fault (well, the driver's fault). So if a car hits a cyclist who's decided roundabouts are only for people without skin tight clothes and flings in front of the car at 30mph out of nowhere, it's the car's fault. If a car hits a cyclist who is wearing black lycra, on a dark road, at night, with no lights on, or even one tiny naff light on the other side of the bike to the car, then that's the cars fault. As a result, cyclists have got this weird sense of safety, and do the most insane stunts, flying around, backflipping, bouncing here and there and all over the place, oblivious to the screeching brakes and tyres flying off and crashing into shop windows and the utter destruction their bikes leave in their wake.
By the way, if you go to Cambridge, the cyclists get road rage and shout at you. Which annoys me but it's also kinda funny so they can carry on if they like. And they don't wear lycra. They wear tweed.
They have a disregard for the rules. They do whatever they want to, regardless of the law or what others feel. And the worst part is that the law, as it stands at this moment, protects them.
This new problem finds itself around towns like where I live, invading roads, and even some cafes. These lycra-clad evil doers have become far too common in the last few years and today I realised that it had gone far enough.
Cyclists are really annoying.
There they are, cycling away. The fact that they're not actually in any professional competition doesn't stop them from wearing the tightest clothes. They say its so they can shave a few milliseconds off their time, but I doubt if a casual sunday ride will be completely ruined if they were out on their bikes a bit longer. I mean, if they love cycling so much, surely they'd all wear as much of their clothes as possible so they can be out longer? The real victims, of course, are those who have their...ahem..."stuff"... waggling around in front of us like a pendulum while we're trying to keep our eyes on the road.
And do they just like, go into shops like that? "Oh hello Gary, sorry I'm milliseconds late for Lydia's funeral but I haven't shaved my legs today. Do you mind if I just sit in the front row in my sweaty not-so-super-hero costume, with everything just hanging out?"
They cycle right in the middle. The amount of mental over-takes I've had to do in my little car is ridiculous. Flinging my little tiny matchbox car into the other lane to get around a bicycle happens way too often. There I go, rattling away like a Scalextric with an engine that can barely cope with rapid acceleration, flying towards a massive lorry while someone dressed up like a feminine transformer wobbles around in the middle of the road. At rush hour. On a main road.
But ok, the roads aren't just for cars I suppose. It's probably for the best that they're not cycling on pavements. But if you're gonna stop your bike and pull up next to your friend to have a chat about what the best cream is to use when shaving legs, I'm sure you could do that on the pavement. Or you know, anywhere that's not taking up an entire lane, on a bend. So I'm there either beeping my horn at two skinny teletubbies who for some reason are giving me evils, or again, I'm overtaking in ways that would make Vin Diesel wet himself.
Pedestrian crossings? Ah who cares, I'm on a bike. WOOO! Roundabouts? Meh, I'm on a bike. All road courtesy, sense and rules go right out the window when you're on a bike (not that they have a window). Flinging past pedestrian crossings when there's clearly a load of cars stopped to wait for the old woman who's crossing is not a good idea. Because you might hit her, and going the speed your going, you might kill her. The cars are stopping because it's the law and because they don't want to kill anybody. You're not stopping, and it's not because of some rule where if you're a cyclist, you're allowed to kill people. You're still not allowed to kill people. Stop. Going. Around. Like. Crazy.
The worst bit? Did you know, apparently if a car hits a cyclist, it's automatically the car's fault (well, the driver's fault). So if a car hits a cyclist who's decided roundabouts are only for people without skin tight clothes and flings in front of the car at 30mph out of nowhere, it's the car's fault. If a car hits a cyclist who is wearing black lycra, on a dark road, at night, with no lights on, or even one tiny naff light on the other side of the bike to the car, then that's the cars fault. As a result, cyclists have got this weird sense of safety, and do the most insane stunts, flying around, backflipping, bouncing here and there and all over the place, oblivious to the screeching brakes and tyres flying off and crashing into shop windows and the utter destruction their bikes leave in their wake.
By the way, if you go to Cambridge, the cyclists get road rage and shout at you. Which annoys me but it's also kinda funny so they can carry on if they like. And they don't wear lycra. They wear tweed.
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