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Monday, March 29, 2010

In that place, that special place, that undefined place, the place of no return...

I shouldn't find it amusing but I do...

Having a conversation that ended up straying into danger territory about 'the place' should cause most women to tremble in their Jimmy Choos and feel sick in the pit of their stomach.

However, it just struck me with a fit of the giggles. I could not believe that I was starting to hear the same old routine phrases that I always hear. And for the first time in my life, I actually found it funny.

Why is it that its always exactly the same conversation, but just different people saying it each time! Do men use a secret script that's hidden somewhere on the internet or passed down from father to son, from uncle to goat?

Girls will know the usual phraseology and these age-old relational ripostes are about to be BUSTED. Guys, we know what you mean when you start trotting out these ridiculous lines.

So don't!

My Top Five Flake-out Sentences

1) "I'm not in a good place right now"
Surprisingly enough, neither am I. I'm currently on the toilet, trying to force the shy turtle to make his exit, while listening to your appeal for sympathy - an appeal that, ironically, is your lame excuse for breaking up. Well you try squeezing out that roast beef while listening to some whiny-assed muppet clutching around the Barrel of Bad Excuses to find a reason to break up with you. THAT'S called being in a bad place.

What's even more galling is that this 'bad place' is not really a bad place. It's not a frickin' metal shipping container secreted in the Eritrean desert, stuffed full of the carcases of rotting dogs. It's merely a place of some level of stress that is caused mostly because all your problems are swept under the carpet instead of being dealt with in a mature and grown-up way. Therefore, instead of sorting out these ongoing issues, you decide to break off a perfectly good thing because it's easier to cut and run than maintain a relationship and deal with your failings.

What you really mean: I don't fancy you any more.

2) "I don't want to hurt you but I am just so confused right now."

You're confused?!!! If you don't want to hurt us, then - don't! Seems pretty straightforward to me. Are you genuinely confused about whether or not to hurt someone? My advice would be - and this may be way out there, I know - that there is no real confusion. Either you want to hurt someone or you don't. If you don't, then don't talk such bollocks and push people away from you for no other reason than a weird sense of self-preservation.

If you DO want to hurt someone in order to break with them, then just do it. Don't be confused about it.

What you mean: I don't fancy you any more

3) "You deserve better than me"
Yeah.... You really don't believe that, do you? You've probably met some lady with quite big gazungas, and would really relish the opportunity to bury your head in them and go 'BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR' without feeling any guilt attached to the fact that you are still attached to another woman while treating yourself to some maraca action.

Either that, or you really have such low self-confidence that you can't accept the fact that some girl - ie, myself - has been dumb enough to say yes when you asked her out. In which case, yes, we really do deserve better, and you should snap out of your morbid self-pity and get a frickin life rather than drag us down to the lowly level of your martyrdom.

What you mean: I don't fancy you any more

4) "I think you and I want different things"
No shit, Sherlock!! Men and women want different things - WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WOAH.... Wait a minute... hold the PHONE! Men want different things from women? Wait? What the ... I have to completely change my whole world view about everything that I have ever known or believed or held to be true!!!

I always thought that we women also wanted to discuss in detail the inability of Johnny Wilkinson to convert a try in the Ireland v England Grand Slam Match, while scratching our bellies, drinking Stella and wishing that we could dive our heads face-first into an enormous pair of gnorks and go 'BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR' into that heaving, sweaty cleavage.

I always believed that men, in turn, thought about kittens more than 30 times a day, worried whether their shoes did match the handbag and needed to research the best type of conditioning masks that would not only protect the colour, but also enhance the strength of the hair shaft to prevent unsightly breakage.

AND NOW YOU TELL ME THAT WE WANT DIFFERENT THINGS????? Oh my gosh. I feel so stupid. How could I have been so visually challenged?

What you mean: I don't fancy you any more.

5) "I need to be on my own right now."
You're a self-absorbed computer geek who can't maintain a proper relationship with a real woman, and need to go back into the recesses of your room and whack one out to a picture of Lara Croft, naked.

What you mean: I am a serial masturbator.


When mentioning this to a male friend, he wrote: "Seems we've been busted, guys! No this script, it has been passed down through generations. It was shared when the Egyptians were building the Pyramids, when the Romans invaded Gaul, in the trenches of the Somme, broadcast on the wireless, when we sent rockets to the moon and now via the wonders of the Internet."

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Teen bloggers

Dear Diary
Today I saw my new tutor. He was SO fit! I liked the way his tie hangs.
My tyre blew up on the way to class, I had to push my bike up the street

No, my dear bloggers, the Mermins is not regressing into childhood. For her teenage years were spent writing reams of epic poetry, fairytales and novellae. Not pouring out her soul in public angst in some cyber-medium that hovers between the very personal and the 'I don't care who knows about my menstrual cycle'.

Which is what the Merms is ranting about today. Teen bloggers. Bloggers who don't have anything real to blog about. Youngsters today are being encouraged by thoroughly irresponsible tutors to go online and tell the world about the music they listen to, the boyz they love and the girls they want to kiss.

It's appalling. While browsing on Homo Escapeons earlier, he first raised the spectre of this dire trend to vent among the illiterate younger class. Not content with Bebo or Facebook or MySpace, they have ventured into the world of blogging with personal pages that look uber-cool and yet have absolutely nothing to say of any interest at all.

Now that's not entirely true, some youngsters have a wonderful and wicked sense of humour, or a real concern about what's going on outside their pampered little lives. But the majority of teen blogs I've stumbled on have nothing more to say than "I love Edward" in various spectrae of text-speech.

If only the Cyberspace were not so capacitous that it could subsume all this blether and drivel. Why does it upset me so, you may ask? What harm could a teenyblogger possibly do by outpouring their emo-angst online?

Sigh. Life is so unfair

I'm glad you asked.

1) They're not EMO. At least the EMO have something interesting to say. The darkest moments most of these chastity-ring-wearing airheads have to say is their 'poetry' about death, candles and mirrors. Everyone who has ever been 17 has written poems about death, candles and mirrors. It's just not interesting to anyone but you!

2) They don't use proper words. Blogs are there to explore the power of the written word. How can you honestly fill a blog space with lol, strdy wuz gr8! <3 da 3 brgers @ Maccyd's! IMMD?

3) If it's not interesting, don't expect people to read anything. I read one poor soul's tedious blog where they write about a new song they downloaded off iTunes each day. The premise is very interesting - but they don't actually do a critique of the song. All we're told is what the song is and a new picture skiffled from iStoxx of a rabbit or a cat in a hat. If this were an exploration of virtual Dadaism, I would be impressed. As it was, I wanted to poke my eyes out with a spoon.

4) If it's not interesting, don't expect people to post anything. Another young female student was complaining that no-one wanted to post anything on her blogs. But they were so dull. "I went to college, I finished my dissertation (YAAAY) and then I had a pizza. Yummy." IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME??? No, honey, you were given a $34,000 car for your sweet 16th and you have the mental agility of handcream.

5) If you're going to post such drivel, then at least put up pictures of yourself so we can mock you to your face, a la David Thorne, whose account has been temporarily suspended, but was arguably the best blog that has ever been, or ever will be, on the face of the internet. Although it was probably his mocking of people to their face that caused his account to be suspended.

6) All failing, stick up a picture of a kitten or George Clooney, naked. At least you will generate some mild interest from middle-aged women who tend to like both those things.

As it is, I am sick of having to wade through drivel when I am on the lookout for surprising and interesting new blogs. I have found that the best ones by far are not from students that have all the time in the world to be creative, but who don't actually do anything with their time. The best blogs are from real people who have seen and overcome real problems, who take the time to explain things in a level of detail that thrills, entertains and draws us in.

I'm not classing myself as one of these. Not by any means. But I do know that, if I were a teenager, my blog would be a heck of a lot more interesting. And If I could hack into anyone else's blogs, there would be carnage - delightful, beautiful, carnage conducted in the ether:

Today I saw my new tutor. He was SO fit! I liked the way his tie hangs. I want to hang it tightly around his neck until he DIES.


Today SUX!!! I HATE MATHS (lol)!!! WANNA SLEEEEEEEEP. Then sleep, my child, sleep. Drink this drink. It will make all the bad maths go far, far away.....


My tyre blew up on the way to class, I had to push my bike up the street and then the girl of my dreams came up to me. I stopped on a slight hill, which made me sweat even more as I tried to stop the bike from rolling backwards, although my weak and puny girly arms were straining every muscle. She smiled sweetly, grabbed my bicycle pump, and shoved it right up my////////// ACCOUNT SUSPENDED