Werking Gal

In the course of approximately two and a half years, I have been employed by seven different companies (one of which I am still a not really kind of slave for, depending on whether you count pinning as a job). Yet after bouncing about in the bliss that is practically unemployment, I have just realised that wait I need moneys and cents to pay baristas, bus drivers and book shop owners. Not having a reliable source of income is quickly becoming very inconvenient. Add in the fact that I am a student, and you have yourself the painful embodiment of a stereotype (#unilyf). What is life.

A word to all of the prospective employers I have emailed, called and flashed my very best Pan Am smile at. For you, I have suffered. I have painfully sought the hell out of Seek.com. I have spent immense amounts of time attempting to advertise myself adequately, without wandering off past the dreaded border of excellent employee material and into the land of absolute wankerdom. I have called your phone numbers with prepared questions in my head, even though I would rather eat my own freshly boiled hair. And yet here I am still, jobless and edging ever so closer to penniless. What exactly is it that you want from me?

I think I can confidently say that I am a competent member of the human race. I have never engaged in taboo activities that society frowns upon (incest, cannibalism, wearing crocs or fleece) and I only have a few conditions I swear. I want some hours that don't clash with my hectic science degree time eating timetable. And I want at least the minimum salary for my age. TWO REQUIREMENTS. Why is this hard? I want to make this work, (pun not intended) but you are clearly too busy never replying to me. What is with that? Why is that I won't ever even receive a memo noting "you didn't make the fit sorrynotsorry"? It's not hard to not be a terrible human being and just allow me the courtesy of knowing that you weren't feeling the font on my resume.

I genuinely wish that I didn't value dem dollas as much as I do. That's what leads to this misery. I would probably be a lot happier if I casted off all material cravings, dropped out of uni, forgot about my caffeine habit and galavanted towards the nearest street corner with some shoe polish and a sign saying 'GUD TYM 4 $$$'. But then I probably wouldn't have internet or deodorant or a regular intake of gum and what kind of existence is that. (not one I can easily leap balls deep into)

So here's to my unemployment. May it end soon. Then I can start complaining about my job, rather than my lacking of one, because I would sincerely prefer that. Or I could do a Frida and find me a wealthy bachelor while chanting maniacally MONEY MONEY MONEY. Then I probably would only complain about my not owing a holiday home in Southern France.

UPDATE: I have a job interview tomorrow. Piss on your dog and wish me luck.

No Flowers Please

Please note: Never in my existence have I received a luxurious bouquet. I was given a single rose once. I probably would have appreciated it more if a greater percentage of it was not wilting and also not pricking me with great bloody thorns. The below is just an imagined response. Take it as you will.

Oh you bought me flowers? You shouldn’t have. No really, this is a shit gift. In my humble opinion, you are paying a lot more than necessary for some decapitated plants wrapped in flattened dead trees. (aka paper) They also don’t stay in that fascinatingly pristine state for long. Like a lot of deceased entities, they start to deteriorate and become a lesser version of themselves. You know, just like a corpse.

Is this bouquet really an accurate representation of what you happen to think of me? Of our relationship? Well shit son, it better not be. Oh you got them because they’re pretty? What are you attempting to articulate, that our companionship seems fetching, but has a doomed fate? That this friendship is already dead? That we may as well envelop it within more departed comradeships?

Let me pull a Pauline Hanson on you and shamelessly gripe for truth. PLEASE EXPLAIN. Because I cannot understand why you have given me these blossoms of blunder. I have no damage on potted plants, as they are still of this world and shall be for quite some time. Nor do I have a problem with floral prints in general. I agree with many humans on this point, flowers are picturesque at the very least. However when you wrench them out of their homes in the soil and shove them into my hands, how the hell do you expect to interpret your actions?

Do not even consider the plastic alternative. Oh yes, they’ll last for eons. So will a synthetic model of a corpse. Or an ex-parrot that has survived the process of taxidermy. Or Edward fucking Cullen. If I have not yet rendered this clearly to you; you are still retrieving a model of something that shits me very much so. A garland of dead pieces of garden only exemplifies how much of a fail at being a person you are. Especially if they are fake. To you I say, fuck your flowers. Good day sir.

Please also note: above becomes irrelevant if flowers in question are peonies.

Warning: Coarse Language

found via weheartit

I have a confession to make. I swear like a drunken sailor lifting a colossal whore of a weight. I know that my vulgarity may offend you, and I solemnly apologise. Just kidding you twat, you can get out if you don't want to read my foal rants.

Seriously though, I like the employment of coarse language. Sure, others may not appreciate it, but I get it. In fact, I think I like people all the more when they are the type to use foal terminology, but only when appropriate and if they are the type to utilise it with imagination, all the better. It's not stuff that should be regularly spat out, distastefully. I personally believe that we should enunciate swear words, savour them and insert them into the best possible contexts. Why? Because it's delicious and nothing else quite captures the same essence. I don't care what your mother personally feels about other extensive vocabulary in the English language. NOTHING ELSE QUITE DOES IT.

What else could really be an adequate substitute for shit? Or fuck? Or bastard? I'm sorry, poo, fornicate and dolt are all smashing in their own ways, but do they really capture the same aura? That's right my dear fagatrons. They do not, indeed. When you are sacked, dumped by your beloved and are kicked out of your squalid apartment, you will NOT, hear me, sit down and exclaim, "oh dear". Oh no. Whatever shall I do. Unless you are a nun or a monk, chances are, you will release your inner drunken sailor. Admittedly, it won't suddenly undo all of the damage you have suffered on this horrible day, but it will make you feel a smidgen better. If there is a lack of a)children or b)the elderly within a radius of 15 metres, there should be no shame in that.

All right anti swear cows. Why do you think 'shit happens' is such an effective mantra? Or why Jenna Marbles is so popular? People relate. There is some kind of warped beauty in the simplicity of swearing, as my good friend Kobi observed. Ever notice how you can insert the word fuck into a fucking sentence anyfuckingwhere and it will still make fucking sense? And the variations of swearing are just endless fun to explore. Shit, shitting, shat, etc. Most of these words are adaptable as hell and you can almost always twist them to express yourself. Really, it's kind of universal: you'll notice that many people will eagerly stock up on swear words from other languages unknown to them. Swearing is just a human ability that is global.

The secret to swearing is in your tone. You mean that your friend is a selfish bitch, you screech it like an  agitated girl at her selfish bitch of a friend. You mean that your friend is a selfish bitch for eating all of your chocolate, you smirk at her, nudging her belly. You mean that kid is a shit, you tell that little prat. You mean that the kid is the shit, you congratulate that excellent mutha fucker. You know? It's all in your intonation. This only gets better with practise, so I shall differentiate myself from all of the predominant adults in your childhood and digress that you should practise swearing. Get out there and try it. But try it with an veteran vulgar mouth, one that knows you're not actually trying to question their mother's sexuality. Please note, I will not be held responsible for any wreckages of relationships, career opportunities or any other life aspects you hold dear.

As your proud new botEl (bastardisations of the English language) mentor, all I really ask is that you are not as reluctant to shy away from your inner drunken sailor. Sometimes, it just needs some fucking nurturing.

FTYOLO

images found via weheartit

Please, I don't understand. How is it that neon is back? That peplums are even considerable as a feature of clothing? That Instagramming everything has become the norm?

Neon was cool for a brief period in 2005 and in that crazy era that we call the 'eighties' but it never lasted, just as I suspect that this phase won't. As for peplums, for those who don't know, there is one predominant cause of these fashionable entities. To enlargen a woman's waist. Yes, that is what is up with our youth. Additionally, one year ago, I had Instagram. No one would follow me as none of my friends and/or their friends had it then. No one would join it for my sake. One year ago, the majority of the current trends would have been mocked if someone had dared practise them.

Yet here we are, moving desperately as a pack in our vans and skinny jeans, shouting "YOLO" to defend our mindless actions. Four years ago, the common acronym of choice would have been "LOL". Dafuq is up with this? A decade ago, no one spoke in degrading txt speak either. No. No one had Facebook or any of these other useless networks to constantly bombard others with their self promoting material. I swear that leopard print keeps reappearing too, whenever it seems that fashion designers cannot fulfil their careers and DESIGN SOMETHING NEW.

If there is any consistency in trends, it's in that some like to reappear. Again. And again. Just when you thought high waisted anything was truly rectified, there it was in 2010, dictating the waistbands of girls' jeans. And did I mention leopard print?

Being a young person, it also appears mandatorily within my discourse to follow these perplexing patterns in society. Apparently all teens have an automatically installed desire to be overwhelmingly cool. And in this, cool is supposed to be monotonous slavery to the current and now. That's what they tell me.

How about if I said no? That I couldn't care to follow the neon coloured flock of sheep? That I'll wear what I like, listen to what I like, watch what I like, etc. I am the girl with a top knot, not because top knots are supposedly trendy but because it just is an amazingly easy hair style to fall back upon for someone with an erratically wild mane like mine. I don't want to follow the trends in the now. Yet in doing this I am now following a anti-mainstream crowd thanks to the hipster wave.

I just cannot win.

The thing is, I could not care for being hipster either. Let me clarify myself. I could not give a flying fuck about trends. No. What I do care about is what I enjoy and what I like, whether it be trendy or not. In my very humble opinion, contemporary society would improve exponentially if all were to adopt this attitude. I am calling for a revolution people. It's called FTYOLO. Fuck trends, you only live once. Be sure to place this as a hashtag in your tweets and pins... this movement will be the next big thing.

Too Young, Too Dumb

via weheartit

Have you stumbled upon the phrase 'age is no barrier'? It sounds almost lovingly accepting and like that of an applicable doctrine to a desirable Utopian society. Sadly, like many other common phrases, it simply is false. Age is no barrier? Honestly? Perhaps it should be old age is no barrier, because that's when people seem fond of both employing and justifying it, rather than correlating with their younger peers.

I know and I'll tell you this now, unless you're an adult in this world, a lot of individuals will not care about what you have to say. That sounds harsh. Yet unfortunately I have to face people daily who believe that because of my youth, I should be seen and not heard. Perhaps it also has to do with my sex, because a sector of society seems to find it amusing that I am an opinionated young female. Yes, I have views on certain issues like the Chinese One Child Policy and animal cruelty. I care, isn't that amazing? In contemporary times, there are young people who ponder upon such affairs and form valid opinions. Jesus Christ Superstar, what have I been smoking? Obviously this is a result of my being in a state where I am not able to think normally. Such is the youth of today, as they say.

I know what you're thinking. Yes, I know you gain wisdom as you grow older and as you gradually gather your shit. That's undeniable and I'm down for respecting your elders. However, I find it endlessly aggravating that too often it's assumed that my intelligence must lay in coherence with my age. It is as if my IQ must be equivalent to the number of years I have existed until I'm 25. When there have been numerous self made young people throughout history such as Joan of Arc, Mary Shelley and Mozart, why is this still presumed? Jesus was only 12 when he presented his wisdom within the temple in Jerusalem and more recently, Mark Zuckerberg commercialised Facebook at the age of 19. All kinds of wonders are able to be accomplished by youth.

Contrarily, there is one common saying that I do agree with. If you tell someone something enough times, they'll start to believe it. That is, if you continue to tell Generation Y that they will never achieve anything noteworthy within their lifetime, they will eventually start to follow your degrading prophecy. Why? Because you failed as an older mentor. Because shit just got real for us and we didn't know how to approach it headstrong. Because obviously we're too young and too dumb.

There are many imbeciles in my generation; that my dear reader is irrefutable. We also do idiotic things in our youth, but that shouldn't be an excuse. I do not know if you are aware of this though, there are absolute cretins within your age group as well. Age should not be a barrier (not in this manner), yet it is. Now I'm not going to demand that you follow Whitney Houston's ghostly footsteps and proclaim that children are the future. No, what I want is for this unsightly assumption to stop. Stop assuming that all young individuals are brainless, please. If only for the sake of the clever ones out there, please just stop. 

Reserving the Right to Jam Snobbery

via weheartit

Before beginning, I will clarify that I am NOT a food snob. I love the convenience of cake mixes, frozen meals and powdered drinks. I mean, if it tastes good, its artificial evil can be temporarily ignored right? (Cue untimely death) However, when it comes to the delicate subject of spreads, I am very particular in my tastes in a particular sort of way. As far as I am concerned there are two very important jams to be aware of and in a sense, they are the ultimates. They are the Voldemort and Harry Potter of jams. Maybe not that ultimate, but they are immensely significant in that they are alike in varying ways but they are different.

What are they? Meet raspberry and strawberry jam. Two opposing but very similar looking forces. On one hand, there's the conventional gunky tasting bright red strawberry and on the other, the sweeter, less common, darker raspberry. If ever you are going to serve me toast, please note that I am a raspberry girl all the way. Raspberry jam is tops. Strawberry jam is not. While some (most) of society will not care for my particularity about this condiment, I will openly reserve my right to my shunning of strawberry jam. No, it is not because I am a pedantic hipster who cares only for insignificant entities. It's something that I'm placing into my mouth and allowing to pass through my digestive system, should that not grant me the right to jam snobbery?

Since no one within my company has seemed to allow me this, I in my all new level of sad have approached the internet. Even if the minute percentage of the world's population that reads this blog does not approve of my condiment obsession, I do not care. I shall never waver from my tastes in jam and if that is so wrong, then I shall just enjoy it all the more as a sick pleasure. Anyone up for a jam sandwich?

A Word to all Carnivores, Omnivores and Herbivores Alike

Jim Benton via WeHeartIt

Dear general human population,

I am a vegetarian and have been for the last two years. Individuals who partake in varying dietary intakes, which are all wonderfully diverse, surround me; I have some vego friends, lots of omnivore mates and the occasional carnivore associate who likes to challenge my no meat scheme. No matter, I enjoy these debates. We may never have harmonized opinions, but that is A OK. As Grandmother Muriel once wisely digressed to my mother, “if everyone was the same, it would be a boring world”. With this aside, I feel that the time has come to declare a bite of food for thought about what I like to call vegetarianism etiquette. All straight meat heads, curly vegos and bi-curious eaters, be sure to digest this. 

I don't judge you for eating meat, why on earth are you holding prejudice against me for not eating it?

Seriously you intolerant bitch, my diet is the closest thing that I have to a religion. I am not joking, I can't even wear leather now without feeling pangs of guilt. It is a lifestyle, it affects the way you see everything. WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?! Sometimes I almost feel as alienated as  a day walker ranga ginger someone with red hair or a Jew. If you're going to challenge my lifestyle, please be polite and openminded about it. Likewise goes for vegetarians against meatheads. You made your choice, that does not automatically lend you a permit to shove your eating regime down others' throats like you're some kind of saint.

If you want to become a vegetarian, quit whining about it and either do it or please quietly continue on with your meat eating existence; I actually could not give a shivering shit if it makes you miserable.

Honestly, I am not some kind of herbivores’ agony aunt. If you are going to do something for me, please never ever wail that you want to be a vegetarian, but [insert inconceivably logical reasoning that would surely prevent anyone from becoming a vegetarian. Wait, did I say inconceivably logical? I meant inconceivably questionable].

Please do not misinterpret what I am trying to say; there are reasonable justifications for not becoming a vegetarian. Among others, they include health and love of meat. Seriously, I understand the latter; I became a vegetarian comfortably because I was never that attached to sausages, chops, bacon etc.

However, there are the inconceivably questionable theorems to consider (or not, they are a waste of time and energy).

My favourites are the excuses from young people that concern parents. Being a young person myself, these comments make me feel almost wary of my generation and our potential- we can be so laughable. Such said reasons include “My mum thinks I’m too young” and “They won’t cook or buy vegetarian food for me”.

Sweetheart, if you are mature enough to enter the no meat zone and declare your concern for animal rights, surely you must also be mature enough to get off your backside, buy your own meat alternatives and fabricate your own veggie feast. It is not your poor parents’ responsibility to do this for you. If they do, how splendid! You have a family that is able to love a languid little turd (lol jks ily). If not, do not blame your own laziness on innocent bystanders. This is like complaining that you cannot be a Muslim because your unreasonable Christian parents will not read the Qur’an to you three times a day. Vegetarianism is something you must claim responsibility for and that you must channel for yourself. 

Finally, vegetarians are people too.
A man once asked me if my vegetarianism made me more passive, as if I was exempt from feeling passion and hatred just because I had refrained from eating meat for two years and somehow meat makes people emotional in his head. Besides being one of the stupidest questions I had ever heard (trust me Big Bird, there is such a thing as a stupid question), it was flabbergasting. If only for my sake, please remember that vegetarians have feelings too- if anything, they can be some of the most cynical, passionate, quiet and divergent people you will ever meet. We're basically you, but with a higher chance of an iron deficiency.

On a lighter note, here's a different way of looking at it.

Yours truly,

The girl with a top knot

I'm Surrounded by Idiots

I know how you feel Scar. Don't get me wrong, I am not the most knowledgable person I know. In fact, my brain functions a little differently to the normal person's, and I live for immature sexual innuendoes. However I do possess a moderate intelligence and I cringe at some of my peers at school, work, on the street and especially on the internet. Sometimes I feel as if euthanasia should be compulsory for individuals with lower IQs than a certain point.
You may think that some people can't help it. They did not choose to be mentally challenged. Bitch please. Sure, some individuals have legitimate illnesses, were not blessed with the privilege of education, etc. They are not stupid. I am talking about individuals are genuinely moronic.

Exhibit A:
Discussing ethics of organ transplants. Dolt of a girl completely opposes it, arguing that organ transplants should not be performed in order to solve overpopulation.  She asserts that we "should go back to medieval times" and just let people die. Why bother finding the cure to cancer?
Please note that she was sincere, not mocking.

I can only take so much stupidity before I feel so overwhelmed with concern for humanity in general. Should I chortle at their absurdness or weep in despair for our obvious doom?
How can I blame such individuals when we have utter boobs like these in parliament?



This all shall puzzle me until the very end of my existence.