Like and share if... Most people wont copy... Type Amen if... Can one person repost if you care...
Well I hate to break it to you Carol, but no one actually gives a fuck!
You've seen them. WE'VE ALL FUCKING SEEN THEM! And they're done under the guise of hashtag awareness when they're essentially nothing more that the 80's chain letters that left us in constant fear that we would die within seven hours because we hadn't sent it on to seven people.
Don't get me wrong, I know that the people who post these more often than not have their hearts in the right place however most of them are just giant attention whores... "oh look at me, I'm so socially aware. I'm politically awakened and fighting for the injustice in the world". Are ya? Are you really? Or are you just sat behind your phone/keyboard 12 hours a day judging people or murmuring curse words under your breath because the popular bitch from high school who didn't speak to back you then who only added you as a friend to bump her numbers up and never likes anything you post just posted yet another montage of ski holiday pictures and you haven't been able to afford a holiday in 8 years and by extension continues the "hey look at how fabulous my life is" campaign which she so perfectly began 30 years ago. Hey, I don't sit in judgement. I have 4 or 5 people on there from school and constantly question why the fuck I accepted their friend request in the first place. One day I'll pull my finger out of my arse and remove them. I didn't like them in school, I certainly could't give a fuck about what they're doing now.
The fabulous life campaign is for the most part, on my Facebook at least, parents. "I'm so proud of my little boy, he pooped in the potty for the first time" which often accompanies a picture of little Bradley, looking proud as punch with a maniacal grin, stood next to his plastic Thomas the tank engine toilet displaying a giant turd within. Give that boy a gold star, he will go far in life (or maybe not now that the picture has been committed to the internet for all eternity. Please let this kid be President!)
1st day of school pictures, last day of school pictures, graduations from fucking KINDERGARTEN?? COME ON!!!!! When the fuck did that become a thing? Why are we constantly giving prizes for stupid shit? Would you give someone a gold chocolate medal because they managed to cross the road without getting hit by a bus? No! It amounts to the same thing in my eyes. Me managing to get through a work day without telling someone to fuck off and die should deserve an award surely? Oh no wait, that's called being able to keep my job and not end up homeless. MY BAD!
When I see these parents constantly posting praise for their kids achievements, it always makes me ask myself " did you actually say that to your kid first before telling the world or are you going to let them stumble across the post when they're scrolling down their timeline for kitten memes?" There is nothing wrong with being proud or your kids, your life, your new tattoo but I long for the days when I didn't have to see it all over my Facebook. God bless the "unfollow" option... giving people the illusion that you give a shit about what they're posting, without having to actually give a shit.
"Behold the field in which I grow my fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it and thou shalt see that it is barren" That's what the internet needs, More memes!
I love the meme that circulates every now and again "I'm so glad the internet didn't exist when I was a kid. I did loads of stupid stuff and there's no record of it anywhere". So fucking true. I thank my lucky stars regularly but on the flip side, how much easier would homework have been? Having to traipse down to the library in all weathers was a pain in the arse. Kids just don't know that they're born these days (get off my lawn!)
So yes, you little keyboard activists. You're aware. Praise be! But do you ever wonder exactly what you are achieving? Are you really equipped to deal with someones depressive episodes when they turn up on your doorstep after you posted a status saying "my door is always open and the kettle is always on"? As someone who has helped two close friends through very dark times, a cup of tea and a chat ain't gonna fix shit. If anything, it trivializes the seriousness of depression and suicide in my humble opinion. If you are truly worried about someone then them message them, call them, visit them. Get them the information they need to seek professional help... don't post bullshit on the internet and pat yourself on the back because you've saved a life. You've done nothing.
Typing "Amen" under a picture of a terminally ill child will not heal them. If you feel so strongly about children dying of horrific and cruel diseases then donate some of your hard earned cash to the charities who try to cure said diseases. I'm glad it helps you sleep at night because you typed a 4 letter, one syllable word under a picture on the internet.
Sharing a post proclaiming you hate Cancer... what do you think will happen from that? Cancer isn't gonna cry like a little bitch and leave the world forever. It's not going to text it's friend that the whole world hates it and weep uncontrollably in front of a rom-com with a tub of Ben and Jerry's and never kill anyone ever again.
Why can people not see how ridiculous this is and that at the very least that it is emotional blackmail?! I have a heart but I refuse to re-post this crap. Does that make me a bad person? In my opinion it just solidifies that I'm not a sheep. I have always done what I can to help others, more recently I've stepped it up with paying it forward. I could list them so you can sit there reading this and say to yourself "oh wow, what a good person she is" but I'm not going to because your opinion of me does not matter. I don't do the things I do for praise or thanks. I do it because I like helping people and because it needs to be done.
If you really need the validation in your life that comes from the world seeing that you're fucking Mother Teresa incarnate then post links to actually charities, websites, phone numbers so people can get support with the horrific things afflicting their lives. Or better still, get out there and raise money for organisations that can help people with the shitty stuff that life likes to ass fuck us with.
Sunday, 1 October 2017
Thursday, 21 September 2017
Oh no! Not another apocalypse!
WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!
AGAIN!!!
HAVEN'T WE DONE THIS BEFORE??
WHO AM I SCREAMING AT???
Yes, once again we are facing an apocalypse. According to the Christian numerologist David Meade, the world will end on 23rd September 2017. (If this is the first time you're hearing about this, I apologise for the late notice. I've been stockpiling food and building my end of the world proof shelter. It's pink and sparkly and furnished by IKEA. Not really. Actually my hamster died and I've been grieving. No, seriously!). So yeah, our little ray of sunshine Dave says it's all over in a couple of days. Not heard of this guy? I'm not surprised. Neither had I until I spotted a random countdown on Facebook and my immediate though was "for fuck sake, not this shit again. I've only just got over the trauma of 2012".
I'm also getting over the flu so could really do without this right now. Real flu, not that pussy ass man shit that goes around. I am actually snotting all over the place, its like a scene from the exorcist (not the one with the crucifix, you kinky bastards). My head feels twice the size it should be and Im sure that I am growing an extra appendage out of my spine but yet here I am attempting to entertain you. Well at least until the night nurse kicks in.
Anyways, David Meade is a conspiracy theorist basically and he wrote a book called Planet X – The 2017 Arrival where he claimed Nibiru (sounds like a dodgy curry) would crash into Earth in October. BUT THEN moved the date forward by a few weeks. (How fucking convenient!) Despite his claims, very little is known about this man "for security reasons" he claims. He calls himself a "Christian numerologist”, apparently a specialist in his field. I'm assuming that you can Google map this particular field because there is no such thing as Christian numerology. He made it up! That's like me saying I'm a specialist in the field of therapy for those afflicted by Starbucks getting their name wrong on their order. OH THE HORROR!
His predictions are based on... *drum roll*... wait for it.... THE BIBLE! Isaiah, Chapter 13 9-10 to be precise which reads - “See, the Day of the Lord is coming – a cruel day, with wrath and fierce anger – to make the land desolate and destroy the sinners within it. The Stars of Heaven and their constellations will not show their light. The rising Sun will be darkened and the Moon will not give its light.”
So if you haven't guessed Nibiru is a planet which is somewhere in our universe that can seemingly move from solar system to solar system without detection coz no fucker has seen it, not even NASA and if it did exist we would be flying around our solar system like a toddler on Red Bull pushing a mini shopping trolley around Toys R Us because Nibiru's gravity alone would destabilize the orbits of planets closet to the sun. (That's Mercury, Venus and Earth in case you were wondering) But yet it must be real because it was first mentioned in 1976 in yet another book (fucking writers have a lot to answer for. Oh wait! Nevermind) called The 12th Planet by author Zecharia Sitchin. Sitchin believed the planet is home to ancient aliens who he claimed created the human race.
So not only is our Dave buying into 2,000-year-old prophecy written in a book from stories passed down through generations and various languages whilst adding a planet and some aliens who were dreamed up by a guy who possibly dropped too much acid in the 70's. Seems legit.
But it isn't what you think. The world isn't gonna explode. We're all not going to die in a fiery hell. (although, some of us might be spending eternity there) September 23rd will mark the beginning of the end. It will mark the start of 7 years of death and destruction as the gravitational force of Nibiru knocks us of our polar axis and so begin the tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria! (who ya gonna call?!) Forgive me, but isn't that just global warming? But don't forget the righteous ones! They are to be taken to heaven in droves to be spared the end of days because they went to church every Sunday and put a fiver on the collection plate without taking change.
I have no doubt in my mind that I will be one of those left behind. Not because I'm a bad person but because I don't think my brand of dark, twisted humour would be appreciated upstairs. It'd be better placed in the hot basement, reclaiming my right to the fiery throne. But if I am left behind... whoo hoo! Party time! And when this all turns out to be bullshit, I will be wearing my new "I survived ANOTHER apocalypse" t-shirt.
So don't go all Carpe diem just yet. This might not be the time to stop paying your credit card and rent and jetting off to some island in the Caribbean. We might have a few more years yet before we really need to start organising the parties and orgies. But maybe it is time to start seizing the day a little more. Seize the little things, seeing family more (if you can stand to be around them), working a little bit less, not watching the scales so much (it isn't the end of the world because you gained 3lbs. Literally) and hey who knows, you might get hit by a the number 47 bus tomorrow and miss the apocalypse altogether! It really is a shame that more of us don't or cant live our lives every day as if it was the end of the world because in fact, it could be.
However, one thing Dave has secured by his theories and all this hoopla... hes probably gonna be the most Googled person in the next couple of months. Well unless Beyonce announces that shes knocked up again.
AGAIN!!!
HAVEN'T WE DONE THIS BEFORE??
WHO AM I SCREAMING AT???
Yes, once again we are facing an apocalypse. According to the Christian numerologist David Meade, the world will end on 23rd September 2017. (If this is the first time you're hearing about this, I apologise for the late notice. I've been stockpiling food and building my end of the world proof shelter. It's pink and sparkly and furnished by IKEA. Not really. Actually my hamster died and I've been grieving. No, seriously!). So yeah, our little ray of sunshine Dave says it's all over in a couple of days. Not heard of this guy? I'm not surprised. Neither had I until I spotted a random countdown on Facebook and my immediate though was "for fuck sake, not this shit again. I've only just got over the trauma of 2012".
I'm also getting over the flu so could really do without this right now. Real flu, not that pussy ass man shit that goes around. I am actually snotting all over the place, its like a scene from the exorcist (not the one with the crucifix, you kinky bastards). My head feels twice the size it should be and Im sure that I am growing an extra appendage out of my spine but yet here I am attempting to entertain you. Well at least until the night nurse kicks in.
Anyways, David Meade is a conspiracy theorist basically and he wrote a book called Planet X – The 2017 Arrival where he claimed Nibiru (sounds like a dodgy curry) would crash into Earth in October. BUT THEN moved the date forward by a few weeks. (How fucking convenient!) Despite his claims, very little is known about this man "for security reasons" he claims. He calls himself a "Christian numerologist”, apparently a specialist in his field. I'm assuming that you can Google map this particular field because there is no such thing as Christian numerology. He made it up! That's like me saying I'm a specialist in the field of therapy for those afflicted by Starbucks getting their name wrong on their order. OH THE HORROR!
His predictions are based on... *drum roll*... wait for it.... THE BIBLE! Isaiah, Chapter 13 9-10 to be precise which reads - “See, the Day of the Lord is coming – a cruel day, with wrath and fierce anger – to make the land desolate and destroy the sinners within it. The Stars of Heaven and their constellations will not show their light. The rising Sun will be darkened and the Moon will not give its light.”
So if you haven't guessed Nibiru is a planet which is somewhere in our universe that can seemingly move from solar system to solar system without detection coz no fucker has seen it, not even NASA and if it did exist we would be flying around our solar system like a toddler on Red Bull pushing a mini shopping trolley around Toys R Us because Nibiru's gravity alone would destabilize the orbits of planets closet to the sun. (That's Mercury, Venus and Earth in case you were wondering) But yet it must be real because it was first mentioned in 1976 in yet another book (fucking writers have a lot to answer for. Oh wait! Nevermind) called The 12th Planet by author Zecharia Sitchin. Sitchin believed the planet is home to ancient aliens who he claimed created the human race.
So not only is our Dave buying into 2,000-year-old prophecy written in a book from stories passed down through generations and various languages whilst adding a planet and some aliens who were dreamed up by a guy who possibly dropped too much acid in the 70's. Seems legit.
But it isn't what you think. The world isn't gonna explode. We're all not going to die in a fiery hell. (although, some of us might be spending eternity there) September 23rd will mark the beginning of the end. It will mark the start of 7 years of death and destruction as the gravitational force of Nibiru knocks us of our polar axis and so begin the tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria! (who ya gonna call?!) Forgive me, but isn't that just global warming? But don't forget the righteous ones! They are to be taken to heaven in droves to be spared the end of days because they went to church every Sunday and put a fiver on the collection plate without taking change.
I have no doubt in my mind that I will be one of those left behind. Not because I'm a bad person but because I don't think my brand of dark, twisted humour would be appreciated upstairs. It'd be better placed in the hot basement, reclaiming my right to the fiery throne. But if I am left behind... whoo hoo! Party time! And when this all turns out to be bullshit, I will be wearing my new "I survived ANOTHER apocalypse" t-shirt.
So don't go all Carpe diem just yet. This might not be the time to stop paying your credit card and rent and jetting off to some island in the Caribbean. We might have a few more years yet before we really need to start organising the parties and orgies. But maybe it is time to start seizing the day a little more. Seize the little things, seeing family more (if you can stand to be around them), working a little bit less, not watching the scales so much (it isn't the end of the world because you gained 3lbs. Literally) and hey who knows, you might get hit by a the number 47 bus tomorrow and miss the apocalypse altogether! It really is a shame that more of us don't or cant live our lives every day as if it was the end of the world because in fact, it could be.
However, one thing Dave has secured by his theories and all this hoopla... hes probably gonna be the most Googled person in the next couple of months. Well unless Beyonce announces that shes knocked up again.
Monday, 11 September 2017
16 years later...
9/11/2001... (if you're American and weirdly write the date backwards) The day that changed America. The day that changed the world. No matter what your political views, no matter what your religion, no matter what your theory is about what went down that day it is difficult to deny that fact. It changed so much and not necessarily for the better.
For me, it changed my sense of security. For the first time in my life I was truly terrified. The first time a plane flew over my head a few weeks after that day my body ran cold. I was anxious to leave the house and go into tall buildings or buildings with large crowds of people in them. I was scared for me. I was scared for my family.
I have my own little ritual every year to remember those who died that day. Whilst I didn't know anyone personally, I have some good friends who lost family members and friends in the towers. Every time I visit New York, I go and pay my respects and I wear a piece of jewelry around my neck every day which I bought at the memorial the first time I ever visited. Its a beautiful piece inscribed in Latin, "No day shall erase you from the memory of time".
I remember there being a big hoohah about this particular quote at the time. The text is taken from Virgil's Aeneid and refers to Nisus and Euryalus, two warrior-lovers who slaughtered the enemy and in turn are killed and have their heads impaled on spears. So when the quote was to be mounted on the wall of the memorial museum in 2014, a professor from some Californian University that you've probably never heard of (I'm talking about both her and the uni) who obviously has far too much time on their hands claimed it was shockingly inappropriate and argued that the quote could be interpreted more towards the terrorists than the victims of 9/11. Blah blah blah, can we just agree that it is a beautiful and fitting quote? If they'd wanted to mount salvaged steal in 15 inch letters on the wall with an amusing but inappropriate knock knock joke or a dirty limerick then that would've been in poor taste but jeez... get over yourself and go back to reading The Odyssey will ya?! NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR OPINION!
But I digress...
So why? Why do we remember?
Why every year do we peel off the scab, reopening the wounds? Reading the names at the memorial in NY and several other gatherings around the US? Why do they show the same documentaries so we can witness and relive the terror and devastation once more?
Is it because it was so horrific, so traumatizing for the people who experienced it first hand and on a similar level for the rest of the world viewing it through their TVs? Is it because we owe it to those who died that day and those who have fallen since because of that day, to keep their memories, their acts of braveness, kindness and love in its purest form, alive?
The answer is yes. All of the above and so much more. We should never forget. In a few generations time, the event may be simply confined to the history books in a musty old library or to be taught in schools to a room full of kids who really don't give a shit and will probably fail their history exam anyways but until then we should remember, remember til our dying day.
The whole world was asleep that day and we received a huge fucking wake up call. We were all sleeping and we must never go back to sleep again. The moment we do, we take the chance that we will experience another atrocity which will rival or indeed equal September 11th 2001 and I for one pray to the powers that be that I never get to witness anything like that again in my lifetime.
For me, it changed my sense of security. For the first time in my life I was truly terrified. The first time a plane flew over my head a few weeks after that day my body ran cold. I was anxious to leave the house and go into tall buildings or buildings with large crowds of people in them. I was scared for me. I was scared for my family.
I have my own little ritual every year to remember those who died that day. Whilst I didn't know anyone personally, I have some good friends who lost family members and friends in the towers. Every time I visit New York, I go and pay my respects and I wear a piece of jewelry around my neck every day which I bought at the memorial the first time I ever visited. Its a beautiful piece inscribed in Latin, "No day shall erase you from the memory of time".
I remember there being a big hoohah about this particular quote at the time. The text is taken from Virgil's Aeneid and refers to Nisus and Euryalus, two warrior-lovers who slaughtered the enemy and in turn are killed and have their heads impaled on spears. So when the quote was to be mounted on the wall of the memorial museum in 2014, a professor from some Californian University that you've probably never heard of (I'm talking about both her and the uni) who obviously has far too much time on their hands claimed it was shockingly inappropriate and argued that the quote could be interpreted more towards the terrorists than the victims of 9/11. Blah blah blah, can we just agree that it is a beautiful and fitting quote? If they'd wanted to mount salvaged steal in 15 inch letters on the wall with an amusing but inappropriate knock knock joke or a dirty limerick then that would've been in poor taste but jeez... get over yourself and go back to reading The Odyssey will ya?! NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR OPINION!
But I digress...
So why? Why do we remember?
Why every year do we peel off the scab, reopening the wounds? Reading the names at the memorial in NY and several other gatherings around the US? Why do they show the same documentaries so we can witness and relive the terror and devastation once more?
Is it because it was so horrific, so traumatizing for the people who experienced it first hand and on a similar level for the rest of the world viewing it through their TVs? Is it because we owe it to those who died that day and those who have fallen since because of that day, to keep their memories, their acts of braveness, kindness and love in its purest form, alive?
The answer is yes. All of the above and so much more. We should never forget. In a few generations time, the event may be simply confined to the history books in a musty old library or to be taught in schools to a room full of kids who really don't give a shit and will probably fail their history exam anyways but until then we should remember, remember til our dying day.
The whole world was asleep that day and we received a huge fucking wake up call. We were all sleeping and we must never go back to sleep again. The moment we do, we take the chance that we will experience another atrocity which will rival or indeed equal September 11th 2001 and I for one pray to the powers that be that I never get to witness anything like that again in my lifetime.
Testing, testing... is this thing on?
Yes, it has been a long time since I last blogged.
I'VE BEEN BUSY! GET OVER IT!
Nobody reads this shite anyways but I guess I'm back for a bit til I'm distracted again by this shiny thing we call life.
I'VE BEEN BUSY! GET OVER IT!
Nobody reads this shite anyways but I guess I'm back for a bit til I'm distracted again by this shiny thing we call life.
Wednesday, 18 November 2015
In the lift, no one can hear you scream!
My more avid readers may remember (or a few blogs back), I talked about being published... After nearly 2 years, I FINALLY got confirmation that the article that I wrote on behalf of my company for a certain publication, would not be published after all. The whole project was scrapped.
I am gutted!
So here it is, in all its glory. (the company I work for has been taken out on the first line due to privacy) Enjoy!
How many ****** employees can you fit in a lift? Well on this occasion the answer is one. Sadly it wasn’t just a case of fitting; it was a case of being stuck. On this particular day, the lift just didn’t want to let me go. Working in a sixteen floor building has its difficulties at the best of times such as the lift stopping on every floor as people get in and out or the lift not coming at all because people on the floors above and below are you getting in and out. Sometimes it’s like waiting for a bus; you can be there for an eternity and three show up at once.
It was a rare occasion that I left the office on time that day, yes this would be the day when I didn’t have to run to Piccadilly station and board the train a red faced, sweaty mess. I was feeling pretty good. Inboxes were empty, pending less than five and the internal inquiries, were up to date. Turning on my iPod and listening to Lady Gaga I hit the red, down button and waited. The gods were smiling on me because *ping*, the lift showed up immediately and I walked inside it. We all know how a lift works, you press number of the floor you wish to go to, the doors close and off you go right? Wrong! The doors did close however, the lift jerked and nothing, bearing in mind I was lost in a world of music and thoughts of the Chinese food I was going to order once I was home. I don’t think I noticed that I hadn’t moved for at least a minute, maybe even two. I pulled my ear phones out, confused.
Silence! Why does the display still say 11th floor? I immediately hit the ground floor button again *jerk* followed by the very calming lift lady voice said "11th floor". Wash rinse repeat... still nothing. I wasn’t moving an inch. I began hitting the ground button repeatedly in frustration. So the display still showed that I was on the 11th floor. I’ll just open the doors and get out then right? Yeah, the gods weren’t smiling on me anymore. The doors refused to budge. Oh what I wouldn’t have given for a crow bar at the very moment. I looked at my phone for the time.
3.36pm
I’d only been in here for 6 minutes? It felt like longer. Could I still make my train? Of course I could! It didn’t come for another twenty one minutes. The sense of defiance that had shrouded me so quickly was just as swiftly followed by panic. Of course I was going to miss it; it comes in TWENTY ONE MINUTES!!!!!
A nervous laugh escaped my lips as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on me. Images of the opening scene of the film Speed flashed through my mind and I was convinced any minute now either the floor was going to have a hole blown in it or Keanu Reeves was going to shimmy down the lift shaft upside down and save me. Either that or no one would know I was in here and I’d be stuck in the building ‘til morning. I quickly did a mental check of any supplies I had on me. A bottle of water, a pack of chewing gum and half a packet of sugar snap peas. Maybe not enough to survive a zombie apocalypse but I was sure they would get me through the night. You may scoff at my thoughts but it’s amazing what goes through your mind at a time like that.
3.39pm
I spied the yellow button with the bell on it, otherwise known as the alarm button. I wasn’t quite sure why I hadn’t hit it before. Maybe it’s just that good old British stiff upper lip? Heaven forbid I might make a scene. I wasn’t really stuck in the lift! I honestly still believed right up until that point that it was something I was doing wrong. I wasn’t hitting the right button or pressing it correctly. Maybe I was pressing it too hard? Oh just press the alarm button will ya?
I expected a bell, I really did. Talk about false advertising! It was more like a car horn and not as loud as expected. Was anyone even going to hear this pathetic excuse for a noise? Apparently not because after five minutes of pressing it enough but not excessively, again, not wanting to annoy anyone by my obvious need for attention, still no one came to my aid. I pressed it once more and mentally scolded myself for pressing it a little too long. I had decided that this would be the last time I did. The sound was beginning to annoy me.
Silence and then the lights went out. Just wonderful!
I sat on the floor making sure that my new boots didn’t touch it. My coat I could wash, my boots I could not and they were new and my latest pride and joy. The floor was particularly grubby as it would be. I made a mental calculation of how many people would actually use this lift in a day, then a month and just as I strained my brain to calculate the yearly foot traffic a voice from the heavens spoke to me.
"Are you ok?"
My immediate reaction was one of a sarcastic comment bordering on hysteria but getting panicked now would help no one and I was already heading towards the title of "girl who got stuck in the lift" I didn’t want to also be the "girl who had a complete mental break down whilst stuck in the lift." I meekly if not a little nervously replied "I’m fine." I tried my hardest to listen to the man who had come to save me, turns out he hadn’t and he was in fact just a messenger and he was just here to relay to me that the man who was going to save was possibly stuck in traffic and would get round to saving me in twenty five minutes. I looked at my phone again.
3.48pm
Yeah, I wasn’t going to be making the train and suddenly I was ok with that. Now the more pressing issue was what on earth was I going to do for twenty five minutes? I grabbed my phone again and checked. Yes!!! I had signal. Yes!!! I had internet. I must Instagram, Facebook and tweet this to everyone I know immediately! The world must know about my ordeal! Ok maybe not, but I did Instagram myself on the floor of the lift as the whole interior is either mirrors or reflective surfaces. It was a great picture even if I do say so myself.
By this point cabin fever was setting in and the prospect of being in here for another twenty minutes was just too much to bear. I dialed one of the managers I work with there. After a three minute conversation consisting of…
"Sibby, I’m stuck in the lift".
"You’re what?"
"I’m stuck in the lift".
"Where?"
"Where do you think? In the lift shaft!"
"Which lift shaft?"
"The one in the building"
"Which building?"
"Our building!!!"
The immediate response was one of hysterical laughter. I then questioned why I phoned this particular manager when I knew he would think the whole situation was ridiculously funny. Listening to him howl down the phone I knew why I phoned him. This was completely funny and I began to laugh myself silly with him. It was then I heard more voices from above including the Sibby’s so I hung up and yelled that I could hear him. It seems I was drawing quite a crowd behind those doors. Oh the shame! Couldn’t they just leave me here until everyone went home? Did anyone else in the building have to witness my humiliation? There suddenly felt like there was a massive stigma attached to being incarcerated in a hanging metal box. I consoled myself that at least it wasn’t a glass one so I wouldn’t be watched like a goldfish in a bowl. At this point I figured I might just as well play a game on my phone.
Just then I heard a scratching sound, then a creak and a slow rumble. Maybe it was my stomach? I was getting hungry; after all I had been in here for a whole thirty one minutes! The lift doors then began to part and a sense of relief washed over me as I saw the first human face in what seemed like an eternity with an almost blinding light behind him, smiling at me, with an almost bemused expression. Was there anyone who didn’t think this was funny? Ok, so he was no Keanu Reeves but at that moment he looked like an angel to me. Suddenly it dawned on me; I was still on the 11th floor! The stupid lift hadn’t moved an inch, even a quarter of an inch and here was me thinking I was suspended perilously between two floors! Looking past the angel I saw manager Sibby with a huge grin on his face, still laughing, stood next to a concerned looking voice from the heavens who I now know was Ian the Human Resources manager, and beyond them, three of my co-workers looking highly amused.
3.59pm
Looking back to my angel I laughed, “Well you took your bleedin’ time didn’t ya?” I bet he’s heard worse and he was still smiling as he held the doors open for me to leave. I got up off the grubby floor brushing off my coat and checking my boots, relieved to find there wasn’t a mark on them. After Ian ensured I was ok; I playfully hit Sibby on the arm, regretting it instantly as I was going to need him to take a different lift with me so I could leave the building. The idea of getting in alone wasn’t one I was ready to entertain at that moment. Of course he agreed without hesitation but I distinctly heard a low chuckle as we got in and traveled down eleven floors. Exiting the building I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly headed towards my favourite coffee place for a medicinal cappuccino. Ok I had missed my train but I was free!
On Monday, well of course everyone knew about the incident and teased me about it constantly but it only lasted for the day and part of Tuesday and a couple of occasions on Wednesday.
As for the lift, well it’s now working perfectly as far as I know but now when that particular one arrives to take me to my destination, I wait for the next one.
I am gutted!
So here it is, in all its glory. (the company I work for has been taken out on the first line due to privacy) Enjoy!
How many ****** employees can you fit in a lift? Well on this occasion the answer is one. Sadly it wasn’t just a case of fitting; it was a case of being stuck. On this particular day, the lift just didn’t want to let me go. Working in a sixteen floor building has its difficulties at the best of times such as the lift stopping on every floor as people get in and out or the lift not coming at all because people on the floors above and below are you getting in and out. Sometimes it’s like waiting for a bus; you can be there for an eternity and three show up at once.
It was a rare occasion that I left the office on time that day, yes this would be the day when I didn’t have to run to Piccadilly station and board the train a red faced, sweaty mess. I was feeling pretty good. Inboxes were empty, pending less than five and the internal inquiries, were up to date. Turning on my iPod and listening to Lady Gaga I hit the red, down button and waited. The gods were smiling on me because *ping*, the lift showed up immediately and I walked inside it. We all know how a lift works, you press number of the floor you wish to go to, the doors close and off you go right? Wrong! The doors did close however, the lift jerked and nothing, bearing in mind I was lost in a world of music and thoughts of the Chinese food I was going to order once I was home. I don’t think I noticed that I hadn’t moved for at least a minute, maybe even two. I pulled my ear phones out, confused.
Silence! Why does the display still say 11th floor? I immediately hit the ground floor button again *jerk* followed by the very calming lift lady voice said "11th floor". Wash rinse repeat... still nothing. I wasn’t moving an inch. I began hitting the ground button repeatedly in frustration. So the display still showed that I was on the 11th floor. I’ll just open the doors and get out then right? Yeah, the gods weren’t smiling on me anymore. The doors refused to budge. Oh what I wouldn’t have given for a crow bar at the very moment. I looked at my phone for the time.
3.36pm
I’d only been in here for 6 minutes? It felt like longer. Could I still make my train? Of course I could! It didn’t come for another twenty one minutes. The sense of defiance that had shrouded me so quickly was just as swiftly followed by panic. Of course I was going to miss it; it comes in TWENTY ONE MINUTES!!!!!
A nervous laugh escaped my lips as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on me. Images of the opening scene of the film Speed flashed through my mind and I was convinced any minute now either the floor was going to have a hole blown in it or Keanu Reeves was going to shimmy down the lift shaft upside down and save me. Either that or no one would know I was in here and I’d be stuck in the building ‘til morning. I quickly did a mental check of any supplies I had on me. A bottle of water, a pack of chewing gum and half a packet of sugar snap peas. Maybe not enough to survive a zombie apocalypse but I was sure they would get me through the night. You may scoff at my thoughts but it’s amazing what goes through your mind at a time like that.
3.39pm
I spied the yellow button with the bell on it, otherwise known as the alarm button. I wasn’t quite sure why I hadn’t hit it before. Maybe it’s just that good old British stiff upper lip? Heaven forbid I might make a scene. I wasn’t really stuck in the lift! I honestly still believed right up until that point that it was something I was doing wrong. I wasn’t hitting the right button or pressing it correctly. Maybe I was pressing it too hard? Oh just press the alarm button will ya?
I expected a bell, I really did. Talk about false advertising! It was more like a car horn and not as loud as expected. Was anyone even going to hear this pathetic excuse for a noise? Apparently not because after five minutes of pressing it enough but not excessively, again, not wanting to annoy anyone by my obvious need for attention, still no one came to my aid. I pressed it once more and mentally scolded myself for pressing it a little too long. I had decided that this would be the last time I did. The sound was beginning to annoy me.
Silence and then the lights went out. Just wonderful!
I sat on the floor making sure that my new boots didn’t touch it. My coat I could wash, my boots I could not and they were new and my latest pride and joy. The floor was particularly grubby as it would be. I made a mental calculation of how many people would actually use this lift in a day, then a month and just as I strained my brain to calculate the yearly foot traffic a voice from the heavens spoke to me.
"Are you ok?"
My immediate reaction was one of a sarcastic comment bordering on hysteria but getting panicked now would help no one and I was already heading towards the title of "girl who got stuck in the lift" I didn’t want to also be the "girl who had a complete mental break down whilst stuck in the lift." I meekly if not a little nervously replied "I’m fine." I tried my hardest to listen to the man who had come to save me, turns out he hadn’t and he was in fact just a messenger and he was just here to relay to me that the man who was going to save was possibly stuck in traffic and would get round to saving me in twenty five minutes. I looked at my phone again.
3.48pm
Yeah, I wasn’t going to be making the train and suddenly I was ok with that. Now the more pressing issue was what on earth was I going to do for twenty five minutes? I grabbed my phone again and checked. Yes!!! I had signal. Yes!!! I had internet. I must Instagram, Facebook and tweet this to everyone I know immediately! The world must know about my ordeal! Ok maybe not, but I did Instagram myself on the floor of the lift as the whole interior is either mirrors or reflective surfaces. It was a great picture even if I do say so myself.
By this point cabin fever was setting in and the prospect of being in here for another twenty minutes was just too much to bear. I dialed one of the managers I work with there. After a three minute conversation consisting of…
"Sibby, I’m stuck in the lift".
"You’re what?"
"I’m stuck in the lift".
"Where?"
"Where do you think? In the lift shaft!"
"Which lift shaft?"
"The one in the building"
"Which building?"
"Our building!!!"
The immediate response was one of hysterical laughter. I then questioned why I phoned this particular manager when I knew he would think the whole situation was ridiculously funny. Listening to him howl down the phone I knew why I phoned him. This was completely funny and I began to laugh myself silly with him. It was then I heard more voices from above including the Sibby’s so I hung up and yelled that I could hear him. It seems I was drawing quite a crowd behind those doors. Oh the shame! Couldn’t they just leave me here until everyone went home? Did anyone else in the building have to witness my humiliation? There suddenly felt like there was a massive stigma attached to being incarcerated in a hanging metal box. I consoled myself that at least it wasn’t a glass one so I wouldn’t be watched like a goldfish in a bowl. At this point I figured I might just as well play a game on my phone.
Just then I heard a scratching sound, then a creak and a slow rumble. Maybe it was my stomach? I was getting hungry; after all I had been in here for a whole thirty one minutes! The lift doors then began to part and a sense of relief washed over me as I saw the first human face in what seemed like an eternity with an almost blinding light behind him, smiling at me, with an almost bemused expression. Was there anyone who didn’t think this was funny? Ok, so he was no Keanu Reeves but at that moment he looked like an angel to me. Suddenly it dawned on me; I was still on the 11th floor! The stupid lift hadn’t moved an inch, even a quarter of an inch and here was me thinking I was suspended perilously between two floors! Looking past the angel I saw manager Sibby with a huge grin on his face, still laughing, stood next to a concerned looking voice from the heavens who I now know was Ian the Human Resources manager, and beyond them, three of my co-workers looking highly amused.
3.59pm
Looking back to my angel I laughed, “Well you took your bleedin’ time didn’t ya?” I bet he’s heard worse and he was still smiling as he held the doors open for me to leave. I got up off the grubby floor brushing off my coat and checking my boots, relieved to find there wasn’t a mark on them. After Ian ensured I was ok; I playfully hit Sibby on the arm, regretting it instantly as I was going to need him to take a different lift with me so I could leave the building. The idea of getting in alone wasn’t one I was ready to entertain at that moment. Of course he agreed without hesitation but I distinctly heard a low chuckle as we got in and traveled down eleven floors. Exiting the building I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly headed towards my favourite coffee place for a medicinal cappuccino. Ok I had missed my train but I was free!
On Monday, well of course everyone knew about the incident and teased me about it constantly but it only lasted for the day and part of Tuesday and a couple of occasions on Wednesday.
As for the lift, well it’s now working perfectly as far as I know but now when that particular one arrives to take me to my destination, I wait for the next one.
The only thing wrong with religion is the people who follow it...
"je suis Paris...."
See if there's one thing that these middle eastern nut fucks are proving time and time again, is that they may call themselves Muslims, but they are not. They are nothing more that a deranged cult.
"A cult is defined as a system which venerates one particular individual, ideal or object. They can be a select group of fanatics, or a group of misguided outsiders whose ideals have segmented them from the norm. Many cults don’t begin as dangerous sects – and in fact, if asked, those involved with them wouldn’t describe their group as a cult at all. However, many cults have sinister or extreme agendas that are so far outside they norm they become dangerous. This manifests in mass-suicides, brainwashing, extremist behavior, attacks, abductions, extortion and vandalism."
Remind you of anyone?
Look at their bat shit crazy predecessors...
Scientology - nuff said!
The Ku Klux Klan - racist murderers
Branch Davidians - Got themselves shot and blown up. However, the jury is still our whether or not they deserved it.
Moonies - probably dropped way too much acid in the 70's
... they're all deranged!
Just because ISIS they say they're Muslims... I can say I'm a unicorn but it doesn't make it true.
Don't get me wrong, Islam isn't without its problems. Their track record of women's and children's human rights alone is enough to make your skin crawl. However, you can honestly say that about many recognized religions... just look at Catholicism, stories of pedophiles handing out bread and wine on Sundays and touching small boys every other day of the week to name just one. And what is with the no condom thing? (ah, maybe they just want an excess of boys being born. I get it now). Hell, even your good ole Mormon's would still be recognized as a cult if it wasn't for some excellent and no doubt expensive PR work.
But I myself, choose not to judge a group or race of people by the actions of the few. I refuse to brand all Muslims as terrorists. By doing so, you are creating a divide in which ISIS seek to create. I will continue to do so no matter who, no matter what.
Saying that, should we allow tens of thousands of Syrian refugees into our countries? The media will lead you to believe that there are terrorists hidden among them. And you know what? They're probably right! But the terrorists have been gaining entry into our countries since before 9/11, as students, as business men, as tourists.
I am in two minds. I am on the fence. How can we possibly take more people when we already have hungry and homeless that we are unable to take care of? When we have veterans that fought to keep us safe at great cost, have no roof above their heads, no food in their stomachs?
But we cannot not take them. We cant leave them to suffer and die. They are the innocents. They are as innocent as the people who died in Paris on Friday and the numerous people who have died in attacks before them.
So what do we do? I actually don't have an answer or an opinion quite frankly. (shocked?)
All I do know is that this is the time to come together. This is the time for every man woman and child to stand against these absolute fucking retarded scum bags (I,m holding back, can you tell?) It is us against them. End of. It is US against THEM. We are at war.
Anyways... this is just my two cents.
See if there's one thing that these middle eastern nut fucks are proving time and time again, is that they may call themselves Muslims, but they are not. They are nothing more that a deranged cult.
"A cult is defined as a system which venerates one particular individual, ideal or object. They can be a select group of fanatics, or a group of misguided outsiders whose ideals have segmented them from the norm. Many cults don’t begin as dangerous sects – and in fact, if asked, those involved with them wouldn’t describe their group as a cult at all. However, many cults have sinister or extreme agendas that are so far outside they norm they become dangerous. This manifests in mass-suicides, brainwashing, extremist behavior, attacks, abductions, extortion and vandalism."
Remind you of anyone?
Look at their bat shit crazy predecessors...
Scientology - nuff said!
The Ku Klux Klan - racist murderers
Branch Davidians - Got themselves shot and blown up. However, the jury is still our whether or not they deserved it.
Moonies - probably dropped way too much acid in the 70's
... they're all deranged!
Just because ISIS they say they're Muslims... I can say I'm a unicorn but it doesn't make it true.
Don't get me wrong, Islam isn't without its problems. Their track record of women's and children's human rights alone is enough to make your skin crawl. However, you can honestly say that about many recognized religions... just look at Catholicism, stories of pedophiles handing out bread and wine on Sundays and touching small boys every other day of the week to name just one. And what is with the no condom thing? (ah, maybe they just want an excess of boys being born. I get it now). Hell, even your good ole Mormon's would still be recognized as a cult if it wasn't for some excellent and no doubt expensive PR work.
But I myself, choose not to judge a group or race of people by the actions of the few. I refuse to brand all Muslims as terrorists. By doing so, you are creating a divide in which ISIS seek to create. I will continue to do so no matter who, no matter what.
Saying that, should we allow tens of thousands of Syrian refugees into our countries? The media will lead you to believe that there are terrorists hidden among them. And you know what? They're probably right! But the terrorists have been gaining entry into our countries since before 9/11, as students, as business men, as tourists.
I am in two minds. I am on the fence. How can we possibly take more people when we already have hungry and homeless that we are unable to take care of? When we have veterans that fought to keep us safe at great cost, have no roof above their heads, no food in their stomachs?
But we cannot not take them. We cant leave them to suffer and die. They are the innocents. They are as innocent as the people who died in Paris on Friday and the numerous people who have died in attacks before them.
So what do we do? I actually don't have an answer or an opinion quite frankly. (shocked?)
All I do know is that this is the time to come together. This is the time for every man woman and child to stand against these absolute fucking retarded scum bags (I,m holding back, can you tell?) It is us against them. End of. It is US against THEM. We are at war.
Anyways... this is just my two cents.
Sunday, 16 November 2014
You jump, I jump Jack!
Yes, a quote from one of the biggest movies of all time... Titanic. SPOILER ALERT!!!!
It sinks.
Jack and Rose's story, if you think about it was the epitome of most relationships. There was the flirtatious first meeting, passion, romance, realising that the other person is truly the missing half of your soul, drama, a jealous ex and the whole thing goes to shit because one of you wont share a floating piece of wood which ultimately leaves the other one to freeze to death in ice cold water.
You know Mythbusters did the experiment in San Francisco bay with an exact replica of that board. Jamie Hyneman and Adam Savage managed to bust the myth (kinda) by proving they could both get on the board (after a lot of faffing around) and stay afloat. Ha! Take that Rose you selfish bitch.
Relationships... aren't they supposed to get easier? Honestly, I really cannot be bothered and have loathed immensely the game of dating. Dates to me feel more like job interviews with lousier prospects and the only Christmas bonus on offer is a quick grope in the stationery cupboard. See I had the crazy notion that relationships would get easier as I got older. I'm obviously one sandwich short of a picnic because they really don't. The older you get, the more baggage people seem to have (whether that physical or mental) and there is usually a veritable minefield of problems that ensue. I do not exclude myself either, I'm by no means perfect. Hell I have carry on and excess but I have now learned at the ripe ole age of 36 to leave the whole kit and caboodle in lost luggage.
Maybe this is why we see so many dating shows on television. Reality TV, as my more avid readers will know, is not my thing. There is nothing more mind numbing and infuriating than this genre and the shows that fall in this category. The utter crap these morons spew whilst getting their five minutes of fame. Not to mention their lack of social decency and moral standards. Their fake personalities and "shrink speak" leaves me wanting to stab myself with a spoon. And by shrink speak I mean "I feel that..." and "your words hurt..." whilst quoting verbatim from their copy of Psychology for Dummies".
Sadly the dating shows we have now are all of the above and more. Also the women on those shows act like, well, complete whores to attract the attention of the man they're trying to steal away from the other 25 whores stood in the studio with them. Yes I know that is the nature of the show but puhleeeez! Its embarrassing. And I will clarify because I have said before... the state of "whore" as I see it is not by the amount of people you've slept with. That is between you and your mattress. Whore is the way you conduct yourself. The way you act and unfortunately I have to say sometimes the way you dress. There is a time and place for the public display of breasts and it isn't 9-5 in the office. Although I realise by saying that there will be a great many men wanting to apply for a job where I work.
Wow don't I sound like a old fashioned stick in the mud? Honestly, I'm not. I am a very proud lady in public and a slut in the bedroom and not afraid to admit it (unless I'm in the company of my good friends who know me well enough not to pay any heed when the subject of sex inevitably creeps into the conversation after a few drinks or late night chat)
Anyways... back to the dating shows... If they are the "lucky" chosen one and end up on a date with this obvious Prince Charming (he cant be that much of a catch if he's on a dating show, can he?), there's more sexual innuendo than a Carry On movie and you're left wondering if they even come good. Half of these guys could sue them for false advertising especially once you see them without the make up on that was so expertly applied with a trowel for the show.
In closing, you could go by the old cliché that "its only as complicated as you make it" and yes, I try and live my life by that but I'm finding more and more that it simply comes down to "I'm too old for this shit"
It sinks.
Jack and Rose's story, if you think about it was the epitome of most relationships. There was the flirtatious first meeting, passion, romance, realising that the other person is truly the missing half of your soul, drama, a jealous ex and the whole thing goes to shit because one of you wont share a floating piece of wood which ultimately leaves the other one to freeze to death in ice cold water.
You know Mythbusters did the experiment in San Francisco bay with an exact replica of that board. Jamie Hyneman and Adam Savage managed to bust the myth (kinda) by proving they could both get on the board (after a lot of faffing around) and stay afloat. Ha! Take that Rose you selfish bitch.
Relationships... aren't they supposed to get easier? Honestly, I really cannot be bothered and have loathed immensely the game of dating. Dates to me feel more like job interviews with lousier prospects and the only Christmas bonus on offer is a quick grope in the stationery cupboard. See I had the crazy notion that relationships would get easier as I got older. I'm obviously one sandwich short of a picnic because they really don't. The older you get, the more baggage people seem to have (whether that physical or mental) and there is usually a veritable minefield of problems that ensue. I do not exclude myself either, I'm by no means perfect. Hell I have carry on and excess but I have now learned at the ripe ole age of 36 to leave the whole kit and caboodle in lost luggage.
Maybe this is why we see so many dating shows on television. Reality TV, as my more avid readers will know, is not my thing. There is nothing more mind numbing and infuriating than this genre and the shows that fall in this category. The utter crap these morons spew whilst getting their five minutes of fame. Not to mention their lack of social decency and moral standards. Their fake personalities and "shrink speak" leaves me wanting to stab myself with a spoon. And by shrink speak I mean "I feel that..." and "your words hurt..." whilst quoting verbatim from their copy of Psychology for Dummies".
Sadly the dating shows we have now are all of the above and more. Also the women on those shows act like, well, complete whores to attract the attention of the man they're trying to steal away from the other 25 whores stood in the studio with them. Yes I know that is the nature of the show but puhleeeez! Its embarrassing. And I will clarify because I have said before... the state of "whore" as I see it is not by the amount of people you've slept with. That is between you and your mattress. Whore is the way you conduct yourself. The way you act and unfortunately I have to say sometimes the way you dress. There is a time and place for the public display of breasts and it isn't 9-5 in the office. Although I realise by saying that there will be a great many men wanting to apply for a job where I work.
Wow don't I sound like a old fashioned stick in the mud? Honestly, I'm not. I am a very proud lady in public and a slut in the bedroom and not afraid to admit it (unless I'm in the company of my good friends who know me well enough not to pay any heed when the subject of sex inevitably creeps into the conversation after a few drinks or late night chat)
Anyways... back to the dating shows... If they are the "lucky" chosen one and end up on a date with this obvious Prince Charming (he cant be that much of a catch if he's on a dating show, can he?), there's more sexual innuendo than a Carry On movie and you're left wondering if they even come good. Half of these guys could sue them for false advertising especially once you see them without the make up on that was so expertly applied with a trowel for the show.
In closing, you could go by the old cliché that "its only as complicated as you make it" and yes, I try and live my life by that but I'm finding more and more that it simply comes down to "I'm too old for this shit"
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