fhjkshdfjkhewuinsdjknjkdnfjkdnfjknvd
Thanks,
Hx
AHRHGHGHHGHGHGHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Why do you nice people try and kill me with your abbreviated names and plentiful kisses?
Can you:
1. Type your name in full (unless your name is Fannyjalitousia, then I'll understand the cropping)
2. Don't kiss me when you don't know me and knowing me doesn't count if your role in life is giving me work
3. Just please, please, STOP
That is all.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Now
Sometimes, I find it amazing that from a sea of nobodies, one day, you find your somebody.
It could have been anyone, from anywhere, yet at that point in time, you chose them and they chose you.
And then suddenly, somehow, they become a part of you. To the point where you can't think of a time when they didn't exist with you. Everything before seems like a series of jagged steps, simply there to lead you to what is real now. Completely intertwined in your being; your life, your breath at night, even your choice of dinner, they become an extension of you.
And so this is what happens when you take two nobodies, unsuspecting and unknowing, that one day, they will become eachother's somebodies.
It could have been anyone, from anywhere, yet at that point in time, you chose them and they chose you.
And then suddenly, somehow, they become a part of you. To the point where you can't think of a time when they didn't exist with you. Everything before seems like a series of jagged steps, simply there to lead you to what is real now. Completely intertwined in your being; your life, your breath at night, even your choice of dinner, they become an extension of you.
And so this is what happens when you take two nobodies, unsuspecting and unknowing, that one day, they will become eachother's somebodies.
Monday, July 05, 2010
Going offline with mackerel
I was in a meeting today where buzz words were shot from this one man's mouth like spittle from an old folks home.
For the first 15 minutes of the meeting I was completely lost on what the fuck he was talking about. He showed numerous charts that I forced myself to read in the hope that I could understand why I was there and being subjected to watching my life slip away. Sadly, nothing registered in the mature side of my brain, so I instead busied myself pretending we were all fish living in the deep sea, communicating through warbles and waiting for some plankton to drift into our mouths. When I become bored of that, I tried to listen again. And boy, what a treat that was. Spotting a post-it pad on the table, I began to take notes. Readers, I'm sorry for my fish fantasy, who knows what kind of gold I missed.
But in order of delivery, here are my notes:
'We need a visual mnemonic" (I had to look up the definition as I could only recite the Keanu Reeves movie with this name)
"We have brand schizophrenia" (HA!)
"Communication stimulous" (I'm thinking some kind of Powerpoint presentation gang bang here)
"We need proof of brand life" (I'm losing MY life here)
"On a macro level" (I wrote 'mackerel' in the meeting but I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking fish)
"Let's complete the loop here" (If you say so cowboy)
"We want to create linear experiences" (Jesus)
"Make it granular" (One teaspoon or two?)
And finally, my favourite:
"Let's say we have four animals. Let's club one and call it three"
GAAAAAAAAH.
God that tickled me. What a dick. That tops the time I was made to write 'def con one' on a client/agency communication piece for a client who quite smartly never read his email and needed a 'trigger' word for emergencies.
My funny bone is pissing itself at the moment.
For the first 15 minutes of the meeting I was completely lost on what the fuck he was talking about. He showed numerous charts that I forced myself to read in the hope that I could understand why I was there and being subjected to watching my life slip away. Sadly, nothing registered in the mature side of my brain, so I instead busied myself pretending we were all fish living in the deep sea, communicating through warbles and waiting for some plankton to drift into our mouths. When I become bored of that, I tried to listen again. And boy, what a treat that was. Spotting a post-it pad on the table, I began to take notes. Readers, I'm sorry for my fish fantasy, who knows what kind of gold I missed.
But in order of delivery, here are my notes:
'We need a visual mnemonic" (I had to look up the definition as I could only recite the Keanu Reeves movie with this name)
"We have brand schizophrenia" (HA!)
"Communication stimulous" (I'm thinking some kind of Powerpoint presentation gang bang here)
"We need proof of brand life" (I'm losing MY life here)
"On a macro level" (I wrote 'mackerel' in the meeting but I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking fish)
"Let's complete the loop here" (If you say so cowboy)
"We want to create linear experiences" (Jesus)
"Make it granular" (One teaspoon or two?)
And finally, my favourite:
"Let's say we have four animals. Let's club one and call it three"
GAAAAAAAAH.
God that tickled me. What a dick. That tops the time I was made to write 'def con one' on a client/agency communication piece for a client who quite smartly never read his email and needed a 'trigger' word for emergencies.
My funny bone is pissing itself at the moment.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
An awkward conversation
Today I told someone I was wearing a nappy and I had indeed pissed myself.
But let's put this in context first.
I had written an article about a photography event that I was planning to do over the weekend. As a result, I had gotten free entry for my group. In the article, I had written about my excitement about running around East London photography answers to clues. I had described my excitement the type that makes you 'want to pee your pants'. Like most things I write or say, as soon as they've left my brain, it's like they never happened.
So today, I introduced myself to the organiser of the event. He held his arms open to hug me in greeting. I obliged awkwardly as embracing strangers is probably my 1007th least favourite thing to do. But then he kissed my cheek instead, so the hug at the end which I was originally going in for became a weird tack on, making me wonder if that was even the original intention. Anyway, he was very odd and strange people make me stranger. It's like a reaction; I turbo gush weird shit out my mouth as humanly possible.
Get a cup, or maybe a tank, because it's coming.
After the event, the organiser called out to me. He wanted 'feedback'. Now, after introducing myself, I kind of figured that my communication with him was over and a wave goodbye would suffice. But no. He asked me if 'that thing had happened'. I thought he was referencing me putting a hit on the other teams so we could win (this was something that came from my mouth in a panic following the kisshug). But no, it was about my article. Let's have a replay:
HIm: So did you piss yourself?
Me: Yeah, I did actually....
But I was wearing a nappy...
Him: You Australians are so prepared.
Me: Yeah, I have to be, I have a loose bladder. It used to dribble down my legs. That's of course, until I started on the nappies.
It came way too easily. It always does.
But let's put this in context first.
I had written an article about a photography event that I was planning to do over the weekend. As a result, I had gotten free entry for my group. In the article, I had written about my excitement about running around East London photography answers to clues. I had described my excitement the type that makes you 'want to pee your pants'. Like most things I write or say, as soon as they've left my brain, it's like they never happened.
So today, I introduced myself to the organiser of the event. He held his arms open to hug me in greeting. I obliged awkwardly as embracing strangers is probably my 1007th least favourite thing to do. But then he kissed my cheek instead, so the hug at the end which I was originally going in for became a weird tack on, making me wonder if that was even the original intention. Anyway, he was very odd and strange people make me stranger. It's like a reaction; I turbo gush weird shit out my mouth as humanly possible.
Get a cup, or maybe a tank, because it's coming.
After the event, the organiser called out to me. He wanted 'feedback'. Now, after introducing myself, I kind of figured that my communication with him was over and a wave goodbye would suffice. But no. He asked me if 'that thing had happened'. I thought he was referencing me putting a hit on the other teams so we could win (this was something that came from my mouth in a panic following the kisshug). But no, it was about my article. Let's have a replay:
HIm: So did you piss yourself?
Me: Yeah, I did actually....
But I was wearing a nappy...
Him: You Australians are so prepared.
Me: Yeah, I have to be, I have a loose bladder. It used to dribble down my legs. That's of course, until I started on the nappies.
It came way too easily. It always does.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
A story of what could have been
I’m having a lot of trouble holding my head up at the moment. This is thanks to a combination of things: lugging my laptop around everyday, indulging in two pillows at night, hunching over my desk and probably having a large around of brains to carrying in my head.
So last night, in the depths of pain, I went into a Chinese ‘herbal medicine establishment’ to get a pressure point massage for my neck. I had my friend explain in Chinese that my neck was sore and needed some sorting out. She even told them to use some special ointment to ‘close the points’ off or something like that. It was even organized that I would see ‘the doctor’ there. I felt optimistic, cocooned in the triumph of defying the language barrier that would have normally resulted in me getting an ear massage instead.
My friend went downstairs for her massage and I sat there, waiting for the doctor to come. Around me were golden waving cats and boxes of what I’m pretty sure were boob enlarging potions. A girl wearing a short dress appeared at the door, gesturing for me to follow her. So I did. Holding my head up with my hand like an African tribal woman who has just taken off her neck bangles. She led me to another ‘establishment’ and told me to go downstairs. At this point I was slightly worried that I was about to get whisked off into some kind of black market whore trading. For a second I wondered how much they’d sell me for considering that two months shy of 29, I’d probably be regarded as withered goods. As I got downstairs, the dulled light that can only be associated with $2 sucky sucky greeted me. To my left was a young girl leaning against a doorframe. “Oh fuck”, I thought as I saw she was wearing a black and white striped dress and platform shoes. This was all it took for me to be totally convinced I was in a brothel. Suddenly, it crossed my mind that maybe they thought I was a lesbian and ‘sore neck’ was a Chinese code word for ‘girl on girl’ action. I walked into ‘my room’ and half expected a tripod, leather school girl outfits and pink handcuffs. Clearly I have an overactive imagination. What was definitely lacking was any sign of the kind, elderly Chinese herbal guru I was expecting. Instead, waiting for me was another young Chinese girl wearing a short dress and platform shoes.
I got on the table and hoped for the best. To her credit she had strong hands, although I’m not entirely sure what rubbing my bum had to do with my neck problems. During the few moments of pain inflicting downtime, I, err, might have also given her the impression that I was a TV star. I was trying to explain advertising but got a better reaction when I said TV. Despite not getting sold or penetrated by an angry Chinese lesbian, my neck is better although movement is restricted. All in all, I feel like a better half Chinese person for the experience.
So last night, in the depths of pain, I went into a Chinese ‘herbal medicine establishment’ to get a pressure point massage for my neck. I had my friend explain in Chinese that my neck was sore and needed some sorting out. She even told them to use some special ointment to ‘close the points’ off or something like that. It was even organized that I would see ‘the doctor’ there. I felt optimistic, cocooned in the triumph of defying the language barrier that would have normally resulted in me getting an ear massage instead.
My friend went downstairs for her massage and I sat there, waiting for the doctor to come. Around me were golden waving cats and boxes of what I’m pretty sure were boob enlarging potions. A girl wearing a short dress appeared at the door, gesturing for me to follow her. So I did. Holding my head up with my hand like an African tribal woman who has just taken off her neck bangles. She led me to another ‘establishment’ and told me to go downstairs. At this point I was slightly worried that I was about to get whisked off into some kind of black market whore trading. For a second I wondered how much they’d sell me for considering that two months shy of 29, I’d probably be regarded as withered goods. As I got downstairs, the dulled light that can only be associated with $2 sucky sucky greeted me. To my left was a young girl leaning against a doorframe. “Oh fuck”, I thought as I saw she was wearing a black and white striped dress and platform shoes. This was all it took for me to be totally convinced I was in a brothel. Suddenly, it crossed my mind that maybe they thought I was a lesbian and ‘sore neck’ was a Chinese code word for ‘girl on girl’ action. I walked into ‘my room’ and half expected a tripod, leather school girl outfits and pink handcuffs. Clearly I have an overactive imagination. What was definitely lacking was any sign of the kind, elderly Chinese herbal guru I was expecting. Instead, waiting for me was another young Chinese girl wearing a short dress and platform shoes.
I got on the table and hoped for the best. To her credit she had strong hands, although I’m not entirely sure what rubbing my bum had to do with my neck problems. During the few moments of pain inflicting downtime, I, err, might have also given her the impression that I was a TV star. I was trying to explain advertising but got a better reaction when I said TV. Despite not getting sold or penetrated by an angry Chinese lesbian, my neck is better although movement is restricted. All in all, I feel like a better half Chinese person for the experience.
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