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Archive for the ‘WTF’ Category

Jack Bauer Henry VIII

He: Hey… The Tudors are starting on Mnet tonight in place of 24.
Me: So I’ve heard. Could be interesting to watch.
He: I dunno. Action vs drama. Jack Bauer tortured and killed at least 7 people per episode. Henry VIII only killed his 6 wives.
Me: That is actually not true. Of the six wives… 2 were divorced, 2 were beheaded, one died after childbirth and 1 survived. You could actually learn something from watching the series.
He (unfazed): I might. Seems a bit of a downer to me.
Me: The many intricacies of your 22 year old psyche intrigue me.
He: I miss Jack already.
Me: And so you would.

(That settles it. I’m taking him with me.)

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PuzzleHe (serious): Are you all set for this afternoon’s big meeting? I don’t have to tell you just how important it is that we pull this off.
Me (matter of fact): I think you just did.
He: I did what?
Me: Told me.
He (clearly lost or pretending to be): Are we talking about the same thing?
Me: I thought we were, but now it seems we’re not.
He (raised eyebrows): Huh?
Me: The subtle yet artful manipulation hiding behind your own words clearly escapes you.

How did he miss that?

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Fish in a barrel

WaiterBeing the miserable sod that I am, I am quite happy to bring someone down to my misery level, especially when that person is primary the source of my woes.

Question: Why is it that when you want to have a quiet and serious conversation with one of your friends, your waiter is the quirkiest person on the face of the planet?

There you are going through an account of how a new job offer flushed your precious holiday plans down the toilet (or how you just got dumped++) when your waiter has clearly swallowed the Energiser bunny in the kitchen before coming out.
He’ll start out by saying something like, “Good morning, folks and what can I do for you today? You’re at the (Insert Restaurant Name), the happiest place on earth next to Hooters!”
Fuck… you… sparky. I was going to have the mixed seafood platter, but now I’ll just have the chicken salad. And leave the dressing on the side. (I did not say it out loud, but my body language probably communicated that I was irritated)
Now I know what you are thinking. I am unreasonable and the guy is merely doing his job in being friendly and welcoming. And you may be right for thinking so. There is a no way he could have known that I wanted him to tone it down and be less of an intrusion, unless I told him so. If I were a woman, you’d be forgiven for thinking, “Diva!”.
Having admitted to being a bit of a douchebag, I do however believe that a good waiter should be able to read his patrons and adjust his attitude accordingly.
I was all set to make up for my insolent behaviour, when he did something that really pissed me off. It took twenty minutes for him to arrive with the drinks order!
When they finally arrived and while he was busy putting the drinks down on the table , I leaned in and asked politely, “I know you have a sign that says, We Reserve The Right To Refuse Service To Anyone!, but is the lack of service your subtle way of telling us to piss off?”
Clearly taken aback by this precious ounce of respect, he blushed and rambled off an excuse of why it took so long for him to get around to us. His excuse may have been perfectly valid, had it not been that the place was basically empty and that he had only two other tables to see to.
I made a mental note to tip him in small coins.
(++No worries, I was not dumped)

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Slut?Overheard this conversation between the gf, [S] and one of her friends.

Friend: I like everything about this guy. Pity, I don’t stand a chance with him.
[S]: Of course you do. You are being too hard on yourself.
Friend: The only reason a guy like him would go out with a girl like me is because he thinks I’m a slut.
[S]: Well there you have it. Prove him right… then prove him wrong.

I don’t need to worry, do I?

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Train trackIn the line at the cafeteria…

Girl: I’m reading a very interesting book on male/female sexuality right now.
Guy (obviously bored): Uh-huh…
Girl: Anyway… the author says that the chemical make-up of the male brain is totally different from that of the female brain, and that a woman’s brain contains about 10 times more white matter related to general intelligence than a man’s…. [stops talking]
(Annoyed) You know, I don’t think you’ve listened to a word I’ve said in the last two minutes. You are probably only thinking about the beer in your fridge and some girl you met in a bar last week whom you want to have sex with.
Guy: Huh? All I heard was beer and sex.… the rest flew past me like fire engines on their way to a crash site.
Girl (perplexed): Yeah, I can hear the echo of their sirens bouncing around in your skull.
Guy: Are you saying I have a one-track mind?
Girl: Yes, and there are 2 only stops… Beerville and Sextopia.

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Clapping monkey with cymbalsWe have a temp in the office at the moment. A pretty young girl. She’s one of those women you want to (without meaning to) undress mentally and can imagine yourself getting naked with. (I am a guy… bear with me!)
It is very distracting and I have made a mental note to avoid her company as much as I possibly can.
I am however convinced that she has some kind of mental problem. She cannot finish a sentence without giggling or laughing like you had just told her a brilliant joke.
Every time I run into her and she does that I find myself thinking:

You were damn cute when I passed you in the corridor this morning. Why do you feel the need to open your mouth to speak to me? Please, just smile at me and let my imagination do the rest.

Being in a conversation with her is like being on the set of a sitcom, except there are no funny one-liners and no live studio audience. There is only the laughter track and for some reason it is out of sync with what is being said.
I know they say that laughter is the best medicine, but this is like being having an enema shoved up your backside. She is not spreading happiness. She is like that battery operated clapping monkey. Annoying! All the fake laughter makes it impossible for you to believe that anything she does in genuine and more importantly, it will totally spoil the effect when I eventually tell her one of my brilliant jokes.
Take yesterday afternoon.
“Can you get in touch with (inset name) at the research agency? I urgently need the results of the consumer placement tests that were done last month for tomorrow morning’s meeting. Please can you give it top priority?”
“I’ll get right on it”, she said with a smile. “Hahahahahah.”
“I am sure you will! Hahahahahah!” I chortled, while looking at her suspiciously. I struggled to see what was so “funny” about my request.
Isn’t it strange how a flaw in someone’s personality can totally distract from that person’s positive qualities? Damn!!

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Handful of sand

I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth. (~Ovid’s Metamorphosis, Book 14, lines 131-153 as paraphrased by Matt Damon in The Good Shepherd)

Two posts in three weeks! Does not bode well for the blog, does it? In spite of it being spring, I’ve been kinda(?) lazy as well as low on inspiration and will power.
The birthday was last week Friday and hence the quote. Of course it coincided with the start of the Rugby World Cup which culminated in a drunken debauchery of epic proportions. The less I say… the better. And the less I have to force myself to remember.

If there is one thing that drives me insane, it is when married friends have a joint email address and they don’t tell you about it!
I sent an e-mail to a married friend a couple of days ago to bring him up to speed on a few intimate details of my life. We’ve been best mates since primary school.
Imagine my surprise when he called back a day later and not only shared with me his view on some of the issues raised, but also that of his wife.
“You told your wife what I wrote in the e-mail?”, I asked.
“No. We have a joint e-mail account and she read it when she checked the account for messages”

I felt like he had just slapped me! Why would she read an e-mail when it was not addressed to her? And even after she had opened it, why did she not close it when she realised that it was of a personal nature? I don’t want him to put me before his wife, just my right to privacy.
Now I know some people see this whole “there is no secrets between us” as a gesture of their undying love and commitment, especially when they are newly married. But does sharing necessarily mean you have to include your friend’s secrets?
To me personally it screams of a lack of individuality and some form of over-possessiveness. Being in a relationship (marriage) does require that you share some details of your life with someone else, but does it have to be every detail?
Right at the heart of the matter, is the fact that my mate did not tell me that the e-mail addy was for a joint account. It is a big deal to me and although I am not going to launch a formal protest… but I don’t like it one bit. Not one bit!
To me it is akin to pillow talk. Laying there, completely relaxed with someone you’re starting to trust entirely (or just had sex with), it’s easy to find yourself passing on secret hopes and fears… as well as the secrets of your friends that they would prefer kept hidden.
Personal, embarrassing, humiliating or harmful secrets about your bros are best kept between the two of you. In revealing these, you’re trusting someone else equally or perhaps more than your closest friend. And perhaps you do.
It’s however doubtful that he’d be happy if I aired his dirty laundry to his wife, nor would I tell my girlfriend’s secrets to him.
People!

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