Blokes and Birds

Ever since Emmeline Pankhurst began chaining herself to public amenities back in the days of Marry Poppins, women everywhere have been demanding equality. Fair enough.

For the most part they’ve been successful, and after winning he right to vote in Britain in 1918, women have been breaking equality boundaries wherever they find them. From the top office jobs to members of parliament, internet CEOs and airline pilots, women can be found in every industry, performing every task.

But just underneath gloss of our equality triumphs, lurks a gross social injustice still waiting to be overcome.
Tell me if this sounds "equal" to you:

• Most birds will happily sit on other birds’ laps, but you blokes try sitting on your mate’s lap in a pub and he’ll jump a mile before slapping you sideways.
• Any bird can wear trousers, but I can only think of one or two blokes in the world who can get away with wearing a skirt.
• Two birds holding hand – no problem there. Two blokes holding hands – erm...
• Birds can wear guy’s perfume, but no guy would EVER admit to wearing Chanel no.5 or Angel.
• It’s always cool to be a laddette, it’s never cool to be camp.
• Two birds kiss on the telly and the ratings soar, two blokes kiss and everyone changes channel.

You see, the real battle takes place not in the office or the voting booth, but in our everyday lives. For true sexual equality, birds have to truly act, and be treated, like blokes. We must make fun of them as much as we do men. Rinse them, for only a sexist joke portrays true equality. If they no longer want to be seen as the weaker sex, they’ve got to be able to take it like a man like the rest of us.
And ladies, you need to play your part in our equalitarian society as well. You need to start feeling awkward about things you don’t understand and people who aren’t like you - none of this open minded nonsense. Feel insecure about your sexuality. Be uncomfortable with a mate standing too close to you, don’t look in the mirror before you leave the house in case you start worrying about your looks, and never, ever comment on someone’s hair unless you’re making fun of it! Oh, and spit a bit when you talk. You can’t be selective with equality now, can you?

And if you don’t like it, get back in the kitchen.

Blitching

Blogging is false

When people blog to bitch, they blog to get something off their chest. They're angry and pissed off and they want people to know it. But they can't tell real people. They're scared of real people. Real people have feelings, and can get hurt. Real people can get upset. Real people can get angry. Real people can answer back.

They can't vent, so they blog.

Blog's don't answer back.

Therefore, when it comes to the people they're closest to in life, and they find they can't bitch about them to their faces, or even behind their backs, they blog. People will happily slag off their nearest and dearest (e.g. best friends, spouses, siblings, parents, etc...) safe in the knowledge that as they haven't actually said anything to that person, they can't upset them. No confrontations with loved ones, no provoking those they care about, but at the same time they get to say what they think and how they feel. And no-one gets hurt.

But there is a fundamental flaw in blog bitching!
(can we call it blitching? - I think so)

Those same people that they went out of their way to avoid upsetting, those who they felt too close to want to fight with, are probably the only people who read their blogs in the first place!

"Surely," you should now be thinking "no one would be that stupid! People should know who reads their blog, and should have enough brains to know not to blitch about them over the internet!?!"
- And you'd be right.

Most bloggers realise their mistake half way through their blitch. It hits them like an epiphany, and for a second they're shocked by their own foolishness. But they've got to blitch about something, they're angry!

So they blitch about blitching itself.

How it unravels!

It's called a lift, now sod off!

Today I saw an American. I saw him on the underground. I know he was an American because he said “bada-bing, bada-boom”

He stepped into the lift at Bond Street Station and said, “This elevator’s the bomb.”

No. Not an elevator. Not a bomb. It’s called a lift.

Henceforth, I have compiled a list of games to play on Americans if ever you have the misfortune of meeting one in a lift:

1. When there's only one other person in the lift, tap them on the shoulder and then pretend it wasn't you.
2. Push the buttons and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.
3. Ask if you can push the button for them, and then push the wrong ones.
4. Ask: "Did you feel that?"
5. Stand really close to someone, sniffing them occasionally.
6. Ask them if they’re American. When they say they are, ask them if that means they’re from America. Then get really excited because you once had a friend who went to America.
7. Wait a moment, then ask them if they know your friend.
8. When the doors close, explain to the American: "It's okay. Don't panic, they open up again."
9. Tell them you can see their aura.
10. Admit things to them. Intimate things.
11. Stand silently and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.

If you've got any ideas for more games, please post them below:

How not to get married in Jerusalem – the abridged version

Elope, if you can.

more coming soon...

The Rules of Engagement

In so many films today, we see our hero unsuspectingly walk into life changing situations. People on our silver screens are constantly being bitten by genetically modified arachnids, picking up the wrong briefcase/handbag, or momentarily returning to the office for a forgotten item when their own life changing moment comes and slaps them round the back of the head.

My impending big life change however, has not been that subtle.
I’ve see it coming for about four months now.

In the space of a few days in July, I am getting married, moving to Israel, starting a new university, and beginning a struggle with a bureaucracy that I wouldn’t understand even if I did speak the language. And the hay-fever doesn’t help.

I’m excited, I’m scared, I’m anxious, but most of all, I can’t wait!

Sit back and enjoy the ride...