And do I really give a toss? Not really, I just figured that it’s the kind of subject title that will draw in potential readers. That and my HAWT picture, in which I look entirely unfriendly and mildly homicidal.
Now then! Let’s observe some things that irk me. Simply because that’s what’s really on my mind right now...
1. People who are convinced their opinion actually means something...
Everyone’s opinion matters, no doubt, it’s just that some opinions matter more than others. I find myself shaking my head in utter pity for the people who are so self-obsessed and think themselves pensive simply because they try and be more mature than everyone else and hold an opinion in everything. I realise that, until I am somebody in the world, the opinion I hold means jack all. I just spout it because I’m an arrogant bastard, not because I think I can make a difference.
Granted, some people will make a difference, and their opinion will matter, but let’s observe... IT’S NOT BY APPEARING MATURE ON MYSPACE. All these emo’s venting their thoughts and their ’pieces of failure’ really need a new perspective on life. Go outside and play ball, morons.
I blame poetry. Not for any particular reason, other than I find poetry to be the lowest form of communication known to man.
2. People who repeatedly stab the button at a pedestrian crossing...
I want to cross the road. I press the button, I wait. It’s a simple process, one of mankind’s many handy little features that is both effective and accessible to even the dumbest people. So why then, do others who subsequently arrive at the crossing, also feel the need to stab at the button... repeatedly?
Come on you jackass, what did you think I was doing there? Just waiting for your contribution, unable to press the button myself? What is the red light next to the button illuminated for? A warning that someone could potentially press the crossing button more and more?
It’s as though these people are convinced it’s a system of priority, that the more the button is pressed, the quicker they’ll be able to cross. A little note, folks, the crossing does not respond based on the amount of people who are supposedly there. So pressing the button again and again and again will not make it realise, ’Golly! That gent right there really wants to cross. Best we let him...’
...And the next person who presses the button when I’m already standing there should be shot. Lacking the testicular fortitude to brandish a gun, I’ll likely just shoot an intense glare.
3. People who go on the Internet to complain about how horrible their life is...
You have the Internet, a computer on which to use it, and a house in which to hold the computer. You’re not living the worst life in the world, just ask the starving children who have none of the above.
4. Teenage morons...
I firmly hold the stance that most every year level below mine was cursed with utter idiocy. I admit, my mates and I were stooges. But we, like the people before us, were good ol’ boys whose mischief never hurt anyone. We never made a specific attempt to make others feel bad, nor did we walk around thinking we were top shit. On the contrary, we were rather convinced we were stupid and made an effort to make that a fun thing.
Kids these days think that they’re the greatest, emulate whatever popular fad comes in from America, and butchers it to look like some sort of ludicrous joke. Just last year, riding the train home from uni, I saw a class of what... year 11’s? Something like that. They had their American brands, their out of uniform hats, even some bling, and they had mouths so filthy you’d think they were about to spout sewerage. And I never realised it at their age, but yes indeed, you do look like idiots. Not at all like the people you emulate, but degenerate little wiggers whose next step in life is likely to be towards unemployment.
5. An unshakeable feeling of obscurity...
So let’s set the scene. I’m at Galactic Circus, working the Cyber Coaster (roller coaster simulator that flips and spins, etc.) and this kid wants to ride. He’s no different from anyone else, pretty much the epitome of the kids I described in my last point. I tell him that he’ll want to take off his sunglasses and his hat for the ride, and he does so. (Who wears sunglasses indoors? At night?) He throws his hat into the little container outside of the ride, holds his sunglasses in his hand and sits inside. I start up the ride and turn around, and what do I see? A whole film crew, camera, boom mic, the whole shtick, filming this. I look back down at the hat inside the container, and I realised... ’Shit. I just served Corey Delaney.’
The ride ends, I open the canopy and miraculously the sunglasses have reappeared back on his face. He hops off and goes on his way, being filmed the whole time. There I stood. My acting career at a standstill, routinely doing shows to audiences so small you could count them on your fingers, and putting my heart into performances to be forgotten within the night. Corey Delaney throws a party and people know who he is, no doubt evidenced by the fact he’s being filmed going to Galactic Circus.
...Methinks I need to throw a party. Bring your friends. Bring your enemies. Bring your grandmother. I don’t care, just be as noisy as humanly possible. And be sure to tell everyone about whatever show I’m doing while you’re there.
