Amazons In The Aisles

This is one of my favourite posts from a previous blog of mine.

I was going to call this post "Feral Female Terrorists In Our Shopping Centres" but I didn't because, if I had, I would have red flagged all the security services and agencies, nationally and internationally, who monitor the internet looking for any references to terror and those who inflict it. To those  people I say "Well done and keep it up. We rely on you".  I guess that red flagged everything anyway. Sorry guys.

I was, in fact, referring to the aggressive pushers of prams and shopping trolleys who absolutely know that it is their God given right to own whichever aisle they're pushing said pram or trolley at any given time. These Amazons are easily recognised by their resolute glare and stony faces as they unwaveringly aim their trolleys up and down the aisles while spending the family budget on necessities such as biscuits, soft drinks, chips and anything carrying a "Special" price tag, regardless of whether they really need it or not. Woe betide any luckless male that dares stand between them and a bargain. In fact, it is so dangerous that I think supermarkets and department stores should be compelled to carry liability insurance to cover injuries caused by unyielding Amazons.

I also need to warn people not to comment directly to the Amazons about their lack of manners. A quiet "rude bitch" will result in a screaming tirade that will not only be heard by every other shopper in a kilometre radius, it could also cause pacemakers to malfunction, heart attacks in the elderly, possible broken glass damage and a fast response from the store security, who will automatically take the Amazon's side and evict you from the store. This because the store security will not risk their own safety for yours. Smart people!

The answer to this potentially dangerous situation is to smile and give way to the Amazon. Apologise when she rams you with her trolley and remark on how cute her child is. Warning! Don't do the last one if you are dressed as a priest! Good luck.

Pathetic Political Correctness

OK, I admit it.
I hereby confess to being totally against the stupidity known as Political Correctness.

That does't mean that I'm homophobic ( just ask my gay friends), nor am I a misogynist. After all, I did marry a woman, who I'm devoted to. Come to think of it, I'm not racist either, as my Vietnamese wife will attest.

However, I do despise the tip toeing we are expected to do in our day to day communication, lest we offend someone who is of a different gender, a different race or has a different sexual bent (pun intended).

It is a fact that, in some way or another, we are all different from each other, so let's call it for what it is. There are men and women in most fields of employment. Policemen and policewomen, foremen and forewomen, waiters and waitresses, stewards and stewardesses (sometimes it's difficult to identify which is which here). Whoa! Was that homophobic?. Anyway, you get the idea.

Acknowledging a person's gender does NOT denigrate them. It just tells it like it is. Just a thought. The German language has the gender based der, die, das to identify all objects. Have they done away with der and die? Is everything or everyone just a das now? Who cares?

Recently, in a group of MEN and WOMEN, I told a couple of gay jokes. This horrified several of the group, in spite of the fact that the jokes were bloody funny. In my defence, the jokes were told to me by several of my gay friends who didn't care one iota that I retold them. When I related this incident to them (my gay friends), they fell about laughing.

I also told a very bad joke about a dwarf to a group men and women that I work with. I was told my one idiot that the term dwarf was derogatory. The bloody joke wouldn't have been remotely funny if I had referred to the dwarf as being a vertically challenged person.

All I'm saying, people is it's time to lighten up! Relax and stop tip toeing your way though conversations. If you offend someone, tough luck. Maybe they need to lighten up, too.

The Current State Of Play Between The USA And Europe?

As I see it.

The Parasites In Parliament

In my opinion, parliamentarians in general are parasites. They survive by eating from their publicly funded trough. Their sole purpose is to retain their overpaid jobs.To this end, they have no scruples or interest in the people they are supposed to serve. And Australian politicians are amongst the worst  in the world.

For example, they have spent a ridiculous amount of time debating the recognition of our indigenous people in the Australian Constitution. For years this huge problem has divided the parties and wasted a vast amount of time and money for no result. This is despite the overwhelming support of the Australian people for the change to occur. Not only that; the Australian aboriginals were the first Australians, predating European settlement by MORE THAN 40,000 YEARS! So, how dare our mongrel, parasitic politicians procrastinate, waste time and money and play their point scoring games over such a simple and important problem. As a tax payer and voter I say to all you political bloody parasites, "Get your grubby, fat fingers out of your collective fat arses and do your job, just for a change."

Also, if you really want to represent the majority of voters, legalise same sex marriage. Forget referendums and useless debates. JUST DO IT!

Having written this, I'm not holding my breath in expectation of these parasites doing anything remotely useful.

An Old Flame Rekindled

Usually, I write a lot of tongue in cheek nonsense. However, this post  pertains to an event currently happening.

Prior to my current marriage to my lovely wife, who I adore, I was married to another woman for almost twenty years. In fact, we have a quarter of a century of history. Five years ago, we divorced quite amicably. There were a number of reasons for this.The main one being that we lived and worked together in our various businesses. We were with each other 24/7 with no time apart to rest and relax away from each other. . This continued for our entire marriage.

Over time, this situation caused the deterioration of our relationship. Even though we loved each other, we often couldn't stand not having our own space, leading to a lot of fault finding with each other, resulting in our divorce.

Five years on, I'm very happily remarried and my ex wife has a permanent partner, whom she is happy with.

Recently, we came in contact with one another, due to my ex wife's desire to see the dogs that we had as pets, when we were together. I had no problem with this so she visited my home. Coincidently, and it was a coincidence, my wife was overseas, attending her daughter's wedding at that time.

When my ex arrived, it was as if we had never been apart. What was intended to be a short visit turned into four hours of happy, natural conversation, catching up on what had happened in our lives over the last five years. Was their sexual tension? Yes, there was. Did anything happen? No it didn't and nor will it. We both love our current partners and will never do anything to hurt them.

So, what is the outcome of all of this? I have rediscovered my ex wife. We both still love each other, but not as lovers. We will keep in contact and have I am happy to have her as a trusted friend and confidant forever. Fortunately, she feels the same way.

Ain't life grand?

The Pros And Cons Of Being Ancient (part 2)

In my last post, I touched briefly on the cons of being ancient. I'm writing this between urgent dashes to the toilet, due eating some chicken for dinner, last night, that was probably older than me. If I appear to be rambling, you now know the reason why. I guess that's just too much information. Damn it! If I have to suffer, so do you! Pain shared is pain halved, or some such rubbish.

The Pros (of being ancient)

Surprisingly, there are some good points about being old. A fading memory isn't one of them. If I concentrate a bit, I might be able to remember a few.

As I may have previously mentioned. I work part time in retail. This means that I deal with a large number of people, each week. Most of them are nice but there are always some idiots and arseholes. This is where it gets good. I can get away with saying the most ridiculous things to the cretins who just put it down to my senility. If I said those things as a young man, I'd probably get fired. I do enjoy that part of my job immensely.

I don't have to get out of people's way in the shopping centres. I just wear my grumpy old fart face and keep walking in a straight line. People actively avoid me. Walking through a crowd is like Moses parting the Red Sea. I'm thinking of not showering or shaving for a few days. I think I could clear the shopping centre.

I don't have to help with the housework. I just tell my wife that I'm having a "bad back day". If I play the bad back thing really well, I can often get a back massage, my favourite food cooked for me and even a glass of whiskey delivered to my hand, as I agonise in front of the TV. I'm really careful not to overdo that one as I could be dumped in a nursing home.

I don't have to buy new clothes. I'm expected to look untidy as disheveled. I don't mind looking like that, as long as my clothes are clean. I'm particularly fond of  twenty year old T shirts that have air conditioning holes under the arm pits, if you know what I mean.

As an ancient old fart, I can often play the fading memory card. You have no idea how convenient that can be in the workplace, in the home or even if I'm wandering around the back yard, naked. Don't try to picture that last one, it might put you off your meds.

There are many other good points about getting old. I'm just having trouble remembering them, but you get the idea

The Pros And Cons Of Being Ancient

Being a wise old fart, I see the glass as being both half full and half empty. Half empty tends to annoy me, along with screaming, unruly children, harping women, smelly old people, rude people in general, political correctness, governments, "know it all" young shits, cheap red wine and any whiskey other than single malt, just to name a few. So, while on the negatives, let's start with the cons of being old. At least that way, I'll end up on a positive note, assuming I don't kark it mid sentence.

The Cons:
They all start upon waking up in the morning. Invariably, I will have slept in an awkward, unnatural position, reminiscent of Quasimodo, which results in several degrees of agony, as I attempt to roll out of bed without falling on my face. As I hobble to the toilet on arthritic feet that I haven't seen for several decades, I ponder if I'll be able to accurately pee into the toilet, and not miss. This often poses a problem, as I haven't seen that part of my anatomy for several decades, either. Although my wife tells me it still exists.
Other difficulties include maintaining my balance while getting dressed, not spilling breakfast on my clean shirt, trying to remember whether I've already taken my tablets and failing to check my zipper before leaving the house.

Driving to work is always interesting. Younger drivers seem to think that older drivers should automatically get out of their way, regardless of the road rules. I'm really not a doddering old fool on the road. I like to think that I'm just being careful. When other drivers sound their horns at me and scream abuse. I smile and wave at them, Although, sometimes they don't seem to realise that the reason my middle finger sticks up is due to arthritis.

I work, part time, in a retail environment. That, in itself, is not a big deal, unless I stumble and accidentally push a snotty little kid out of a trolley. I swear that whenever that happens, it IS purely accidental. The major problem is, because I'm old, the customers think I'm supposed to know where everything is located, its price and whether it is a good product or not. Don't these stupid people realise that I have trouble remembering where the hell I am, let alone the answers to their useless, inane bloody questions?

When I get home in the evening, the problems continue. My wife asks how my day was. How the hell am I supposed to remember? She then asks me what I'd like for dinner. Surely, by now, she'd realise it all tastes like soggy cardboard, so why ask the question? Finally, going to bed is pretty much the same as getting up, just in reverse, but it lacks the excitement of waking up, knowing I made through the night.

Oh, I realise that that you think that I forgot the pros of being old. I didn't forget. I just can't be bothered typing any more. Maybe next post.