My Ma recently texted me because her fridge wasn’t doing cold very well. Which is kinda the main point of fridges. I advised her “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”
She stated “No. It’s not a computer. Fridges are all automatic now.”
I responded “Hmm. Are they though? Because yours is only two years old and it isn’t working. Try turning it off and on again.”
My Ma’s response “I don’t want to break it, I might call someone to fix it.”
“Don’t do that, I’ll be up in two days time. I’ll have a look at it.”
Unless it’s on fire, I have zero idea how to tell the difference between a fridge that’s working and one that isn’t. Nonetheless…
Continue reading “That’s Alright Mama.”
That moment you realise you care more about some of the characters on Game of Thrones than you care about some of your immediate family members.
While standing at the bar of one of the many bars I frequent, emanating from somewhere behind me, I overhear a female voice taking part in one half of a phone conversation.
“Ugh. I’m at some bar.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t want to be here, its all, like, dark. And full of weirdos.”
“Ugh. No. I have no idea when we’re leaving.”
“Oh Em Gee, it’s the worst, like, I don’t even know why they wanted to come here.”
“I know! We never go to cool places that I wanna go to.”
Being one of said weirdos in the, like, dark bar, I look over my shoulder to try and steal a glimpse of the dissatisfied orator of this asymmetrical diatribe.
Continue reading “The Kids Are Alright.”
I think I was just propositioned by a 60 year old man.
A completely unsolicited “Why don’t you come with me and shower in my hotel room?” isn’t your usual bar room banter is it?
Well, sir, since you asked, my reasons are many and varied. Here they are in list form:
- Not really my scene.
- I still have money.
- That bar chick though…
- I don’t find you attractive.
- You look like you might kill me then burn me in your hotel room bathtub.
Quite a thought process to arrive at a simple “No thanks man, I’ll pass. Happy hunting.”
Sometimes I feel like I’m the one who could make Taylor Swift happy. Then I realise I probably couldn’t and it bums me out.
Whenever I attend a costume party I always find myself referring to the people I meet as the characters they’re dressed up as.
“No, your name isn’t Daniel. It’s Batman. Don’t share your secret identity man! That’s Batman 101. Isn’t that right Dr. Evil?“
Today I’d like to share with you a nice little mix of hyper-awareness and neuroticism.
After complimenting my friendly neighbourhood bar-girl with a “You look really nice today” I then immediately realise how my statement infers she didn’t look nice the day before.
She then responds, “So I didn’t look nice yesterday?”
I momentarily pause, index finger outstretched and mouth agape like I’m going to keep my charm intact with a clever retort and… no. Nothing comes out. Clever or otherwise.
She laughs and pours me a beer, while I laugh and hope I came across more awkwardly endearing as opposed to a complete and utter social freakshow.
This afternoon I found myself on a train. With other people. Which sucks. As previously established, I’m not very good at trains.
Sitting directly behind me was a mother, who I’m sure was a teenager in the 90’s, and her three children. The eldest, a girl that couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, kept singing a single line from Aqua’s Cartoon Heroes. Over and over again. Very loudly.
Continue reading “The One Where Travis Crushes A Little Girl’s Spirit.”