Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Bad maths

According to every chick flick or show the math is simple. Travel to some country with an absolute douchebag and you will have some troubles that you will overcome and bam there's Mr. Right. A fine example is Sex & the City, a bad example is Leap Year. The main problem with this is that you have to deal with a lot of douchebags to get to Mr. Right.

I recentely travelled while having a douchebag at home and the best I got was an odd Peruvian man stroking my face in the Amazon jungle. I do believe we are now wed, you may send the gifts to my new address, 5th tree on the left after a 2 hour boat ride down the Amazon river.

Another charming male approached me while in Miami. Complimented me as I walked past. "DAAAAMN girl! MMMM you fine!", but wait, it doesn't stop there. "I'm gonna buy you a drink and put something in it so you pass out and I got ya'll to myself." This romantic story is currently in the process of being adapted into a film. Kate Hudson will be playing me.
Possibly the biggest issue I have with this guy is not that he thinks I must be dumb enough to accept the drink that he told me he's drugged, but the fact he was trying to drug me, no that's clearly a normal thing in Miami. At least with this outstanding citizen. Did I mention intense French guy? The list goes on.
The only obvious answer to this solution is to pull weird faces when freaks talk to you and pretend that's just how your face looks, and simply pray Mr. Right isn't around to see it.

Cover your mouth when you cough

It horrors me how many people are feral. It's not that hard of a task to cover your mouth when you cough your nasties up. I don't want to die from your lazy lack of personal hygene like in Contagion. YOU WILL NOT BE THE GWYNETH PALTROW IN THIS STORY! *shuffles off to find hand sanitiser and a face mask*

But it's not only that, it's your kids too. I was never allowed to touch things in stores, or run around crazy off a MacDonald's sugar high... or eat MacDonald's for that matter. So when you let your child run loose in a clothing store and watch them pull the mannequins pants down, we don't find that amusing or cute like you do. We find it god damn annoying. Everyone who works in that shop will be thinking "Ooh what a bad parent, can't even control their child" or "I wonder what I'll have for lunch", because it's not always about you. If you refuse to control your children I think the only just thing to do is to strap both you and your child to one of those awful backpack leash contraptions and to be walked around by the city council.
It's the only way you'll ever learn.