Tag Archives: WOMEN LOVE DIAMONDS! Its more important than world peace

I am a snooty shop assistant

Hi! How may I help you?

… Is what I would say if I wasn’t too busy being a bitch to give a damn

Listen lady, I know you think you have a right to walk into my store and peruse my damn merchandise, but you don’t. I spent all of five minutes flat-packing that pile of cashmere tights and you’re just disturbing my hard work with your indecisiveness. Don’t you know how chunky you are? The only way you’d look good in cashmere is if you used the paper bag as a headdress and threw yourself off a cliff.

I do not deem you worthy.

And what makes you think you can afford this stuff anyway? This kind of tailoring combined with this fabric… Oh wait, here’s my manager. Crap… say something helpful… shit shit. YES!

“That dress is STUNNING, why don’t you try it on? Sure, I’ll watch your Mr Price bags, don’t worry!”

Cue fake smile. Hold for 15 seconds. Make sure manager has watched demonstration. De-commencing forced niceties in 5… 4… 3… 2…

I bet that dress would look frumpy on you. I practically made sure of it by sending you to the changing room with the fat-adding mirror. Please, don’t bother asking me how it works, this is very technical stuff.

Can I help you find the right size? Not a fuck! Is it on the rack? Is it on the pile? No? THAT’S BECAUSE IT ISN’T HERE! It’s probably in the back somewhere and I’m too lazy to get it for you. I won’t even bother mentioning that I can order it from another branch because looking at the computer would mean I have to stop looking at you with my bitch-face on.

Oh! Have you chosen something? After 20 minutes in this store I damn well hope so. No, the red sticker does not mean that this item is on sale, I just put it there to mess with you. Haha!

As I fold your purchases, longingly… lovingly. I will say goodbye to the sweet lace dress I imagined would be mine. I’m sorry I have to send you away with this cretin, dress. Just know that I will miss you. *Sniff

So what if you have a real job and this dress is worth more than I will make in a month? I have something you will never have: The secret of the fat-adding mirror and the ability to spot a nada from a Prada!

You have a lovely day now. I’ll enjoy bitching about you when I’m on lunch with my friend that works at the MAC counter.

Advertisements
Tagged , ,

How do I write a blog post without sounding like a total bitch?

So I haven’t written on here for a while because I suck. No really, I’m not even going to come up with excuses, I’m not going to tell you that my job is like running up a hill, being chased by Justin Bieber while a subsequent crowd of rabid Bieber fans run after him AND IN THE BACKGROUND, REBECCA BLACK SINGS ABOUT FRIDAY OVER AND OVER UNTIL YOU MEMORISE ALL THE DAYS OF THE WEEK. That’s possibly the worst scenario ever.

Anyway, to the point – Out of nowhere, this happens:

Firstly, Ew.

Secondly, there’s not enough breast-milk to feed this much of douchebag.

I’m sure this happens on a daily basis. At any given time, girls breasts are at risk of being dry-humped by dudes with lactose deficiency. But enough is enough, I’ve had it with these guys, the ones that hoot when I’m walking to the hairdresser, minding my own business. The ones that think that calling me ‘sweetness’ or ‘baby’ or ‘sexy’ is somehow going to get me to do 100 naked push-ups on their livingroom carpet. If you, reader, know of or are one of these guys (or girls, depending), this post is for you.

1: Sexy without subtlety is cheap

I know we women like our guys to be ‘in control’ and ‘affirmative’, but what we don’t say is that you have to beat around the bush for EONS until you get any actual bush (or branches, as is the style these days). The instant strong-armed approach only works 2% of the time, so making your instantaneous boning intentions known is probably going to backfire on you. Flatter, placate, be coy, walk away. Suspense mode: ON

2: Be present for the actual flirtation

Scenario: Attractive female walks along street, oozing Sophia Loren attitude, you see her, and in your mind, you go like this…

So naturally, you do what any guy in your situation would do.. Rev your engine, turn up the music, hoot and proceed to drive away in the most show-offy manner you possibly can. I don’t know how you expect Sophia Loren to be impressed by this if you’re driving off while she’s being enveloped in a cloud of your testosterone-flavoured dust.

Seriously, why do guys do this?

3: We really don’t care about if your card sparkles more than Edward in the sunlight.

Sometimes, you’ll meet a really nice girl who is more interested in you than your bank account. This may not apply to every girl, each to her own and whatnot, but flashing your wealth without being coerced to is a free passport to Tackyville in which you’re the sole applicant for mayorship. Sure, money is important, so is a personality. Close your wallet and grow one.

4: I like that! What? YOU DON’T? Mmm. I don’t think I like it anymore…

Don’t do this. Someone that does not stand by their convictions just to impress or to avoid conflict goes does not a good impression make.

5: Read the situation

Pay attention! Words betray body movements. If she maintains eye contact along with boundless smiles: #winning. If she’s agreeing with one word answers and looking at the shoes on the girl in the dress that totally does not go with said shoes, you lost her. See what I did there? Exactly.

6: The object of your affections is NOT YOUR PREY.

Do not back them into a corner, do not act as if they’re the kill you’ve just dragged from the unhinged-jaws of a zombie (unless you’re the hero in this situation, then by all means). Tease, don’t crowd. This is not an orgy.

7: If you want to talk to me about your gym sessions, expect to be hearing about my pathetic love of cats and shoes.

Flirty conversation should be light and general. If you’re picking me up at a gym or I indicate that it interests me, this would be the sole time that a gym related conversation would be applicable. Similarly, if you strike up a conversation about shoes, we would… wait, then you’re probably gay.

8:Flatter flatter. Lie lie. THIS TIME I’M SERIOUS DAMNIT!

“No” or “I’m not interested” does not mean “try until you make me say yes”.

9: If you want to pick up chicks, do not read The Game

South African woman are born with a bullshit detector, I know this because I’ve seen one of the classic ‘seduction’ moves in action multiple times, failed. If you’re approaching flirtation as science instead of art, you might have to work on your interpersonal skills. Natural charm trumps rehearsed gimmics/tricks every time.

 

So… yeah.

I probably bitch level-upped after this post.

Tagged , , , ,

Like sands through the hourglass…

average-housewife-afternoon-soap-operaI like sordid. In fact, I revel in it. This is mostly due to the fact that I’ve watched cheap soap operas whilst in my impressionable teenage years. I adored Taylor, Brooke, Sammy, Carrie and the other soap opera babes. All of them… It was only during my cynical early adulthood that I realised what they were – ‘Ambitious women that achieve their goals through questionable means’, otherwise referred to as whores, skanks, slappers, tarts, ho’s and sluts. I know, it’s easy to give them all a label and you think that any of those words apply. Wrong! There are intrinsic differences, subtle and equally dirty, but differences nonetheless.

THE ULTIMATE SKANK BLOG.

whoreWhores
Bio: In many cultures, they are referred to as the fore mothers of the modern variants we see frequenting our daily lives, labelled as such by those that prefer to use Old English to define them. Often portrayed as the most vulgar of them all, these women conduct daily life making a living through means of prostitution or stealing husbands. Once their acts are vindicated, they become martyrs, often seeking solace in exotic places such as Babylon or upon silk sheets in hotels along the French riviera.
Habitat: The whore is a nomad by nature, moving to places that allude to offering them wealth, though inclined to settle once their materialistic needs are fulfilled.
Mating habits: The whore uses sex as a trade, through a voluntary process, weighing her outputs against the value of her actions.

Skank
Bio: One of lower class, predominantly found in trailer parks or on the arm of Dennis Rodman. Often viewed as dirty, displaying a lack of personal hygiene and complete disregard for the condition of her skin. May be considered to be less beautiful than her peers. Also, a type of dance that white people do.
Habitat: A native of trailer parks, abandoned high-rise buildings and the back of Ford Cortinas.
Sexual habits: Elusive, often conducted in dark corners. Their sexual partners tend to deny any involvement, often evading questions through a semblance of logic. Ex: “I’d never sleep with her, she’s fugly”.

slut

Slapper
Bio: A party animal. A frequenter of bars, parties, clubs and pubs. That hot girl that’s a friend of a friend of Joe’s cousin who denied you the pleasure of her company and you’ve secretly been lusting after her since then. In it for the good times. Mostly considered as easy when under the influence of alcohol. Uses the power of suggestion to get what she wants without actually keeping to her promises.
Habitat: Trendy nightspots such as Manhattan and The Baron. Photographic evidence usually documented on Thunda.com, later tagged on Facebook.
Sexual habits: It seems as if she’ll do anyone except you.

Tart
Bio: A type of confectionery. Easily identified by her bubbly personality and/or complete lack of brain activity. A serial flirt by nature, the Tart manages to get a lot of attention through very little use of thinkery. Mainly used as a derogatory term amongst older woman of English heritage.
Habitat: Your mom’s tea party/braai, often engaged in conversation with the husband of that bitch Maude, whilst her friends stare at her in aplomb.
Sexual habits: A Tart will deny that she’s ever slept with your husband. You will believe her because she’ll do it in a very ditsy manner. Even if you could prove it, you would never allow yourself to believe that you got ousted by someone perceived to be less intelligent than you.

Ho’s
Bio: A product of hip hop. Not restricted to gender (see man ho’s and faux ho’s). Not necessarily a derogatory term. Created for means of use in rap songs. Words that rhyme with ho: mo’, fo sho’, blow, dough. A ho is a product, usually starting out as a shawty then yo’ girl then yo’ baby mamma and finally, a ho, when she demands alimony.
Habitat: Different area codes.
Sexual Habits: Usually sleeps with rap stars, older women of elaborate means and yo baby daddy.

Slut
pic4smBio: Usually sleeps with anyone as long as they flatter her ego. A woman with the morals of a man.
Habitat: They’re everywhere. Capable of adapting in the most harsh of environments. The Slut is also mobile through means of paying for lifts with sexual favours.
Sexual Habits: Anywhere. Any time. Any place. What? Did you just tell me that I’m beautiful? *pounces*

I must admit, defining these terms took a while and was very difficult at first, but I had lots of fun attempting to. Thanks to those that pushed me to write it. Slappers, the bunch of you.

Tagged , , , , , ,

World Domination – A Manifesto (part 1)

So you want to take over the world do you? You’ve meticulously orchestrated the perfect pitch, duration and type of evil laugh to accompany the sound of thunder. You look good in black/ with your brain in a jar/ wrapped in the fur of 101 dalmatian puppies. Well, that’s nice.
 
I doubt you’ve given this endeavor much thought. Let me elaborate:
 

Taking over the world – Not for Morons.

There are a few things you need to get through before you are even remotely close to commanding the attention of the world’s population. Right up there, amidst dreams of Eva Green feeding you Swiss-chocolate-dipped strawberries with her perfectly manicured fingertips, is the crux of this ‘undertaking’: The motive.
 

Possible motives for wanting to dominate the world

  • You want more money than Richard Branson with the addition of a pimped out cave along the border of Nicaragua, servents addressing you as ‘The Magnificent’ and your very own jetpack – one that doesn’t burn your legs to a crisp when you take off
  • Your mommy didn’t love you enough: She didn’t get you that blue Power Ranger action figure you wanted when you were six. Everyone must die, even that blue Power Ranger guy, he totally deflowered the pink Power Ranger and you’ve been in love with her ever since she… you can’t remember, she’s that hot. Everyone must die, except you, and pink Power Ranger and your mom. If you mom found out you wanted to kill her, you’d NEVER get that blue Power Ranger.
  • You’re a hippie. You’ve watched ‘The day the Earth stood still’. You agree with every assumption made by the aliens regarding selfishness of humans. When everything got nommed by nanobots, your little earth loving heart danced for joy whilst you thought: ‘They deserve it, the bastards’.
  • You believe that you can fix the worlds problems. World hunger? McDonalds franchises everywhere! Poor people? Wealth distribution. Racism? Thing of the past, I’ll just make everyone uniform so they don’t have a reason to discriminate… blond hair, blue eyes… oooh, nice man fur, totally matches your swastika.
  • You live in a basement with your cat Wellington. Everyone hates you, especially your cat – you named him Wellington. What kind of crappy cat name is that? You want love, adoration and power. You want to be Tiger Woods without all the golf playing, or Lance Armstrong… without the cancer.

There are many motivations I’ve left out; revenge, madness and *cough* the good of humanity. If you are under the blindingly obvious misconception that taking over the world for ‘the good of humanity’ is without evil or malicious intent, you are wrong. That’s like St Peter saying “Sure, we’ll look over the fact that you took away people’s freedom. We’ll even look over the fact that you killed all the bad people. There’s just one thing though, since you did commit SOME murder (bad people, we get it) you’re allowed into heaven… but your left leg will burn for the rest of eternity.” before he chops your leg off and tosses it in THE PIT OF ETERNAL DAMNATON. Do you have any idea how hard it will be hitting on the heavenly honeys whilst your left leg is on fire? Do you? I thought so.

Lovely, now that we know what we want. Notice how I switched ‘you’ to the familiar ‘we’? That’s the type of thinking we need to get used to, taking over the world is bigger than ‘you’, you have to be more than ‘you’, its imperitive for the next step in our master plan: Getting Shit Done.

Part 2 to be posted as soon as I… Bad Wellington! Stop ripping the furniture!

Tagged , , , , ,

now why’d you go and put stars in their eyes?

So Ash and I watched Twilight… and it was crap. A note to reader, if you intend on watching this movie, please direct your attention to the red x on the top right corner of your screen.

If you have watched it and think its BRILLIANT, please direct your attention to the red x on the top right corner of your screen. Thank you. You’re obviously not cool enough to read my awesomeness.

Let us begin with an analysis of the movie poster:

Firstly: The makers of this poster really loved photoshop because she (Bella) looks nothing like this. Secondly Eric/Edward/That-Sedrick-from-Harry-Potter has these wicked cool eyes that fools the poster viewer into hopes of watching an ass kicking mutant hero adventure. Not so. (and I know that sentence construction was like something 17 year old would write, I was going for that effect because, oh you’re gonna love this one, 17 YEAR OLDS WOULD LOVE THIS CRAP)

Let us introduce Bella. She’s a pretty little thing from Arizona where its always sun-shiny with cacti and what not but then… dum dum dummm! She moves to a dark and forgettable place where it always rains and its cold enough for the frost to permeate through the screen in ways only dark cinematography can. I wasn’t too happy about this already as I’m one of them tropical people that need solar power. I’ve taken the liberty of skipping the boring parts because, seriously, it is forgettable. She joins a new school in a skedonk of a car but through all the adversities (namely, driving a skedonk and being a new kid at a high school in the middle of the term) she manages to make friends with randoms on her first day. Not only does she do this, but she also catches the eye of the brooding male hottie in one flick of her perfectly maintained locks. Realistically speaking, her locks would never be so pristine in rainy weather but you won’t see any frizz on that coif because realism is not very pretty.

The afore mentioned hottie is Eric/Edward/Dead-Harry-Potter-extra. I’ve got to give props to the casting agent on this one, he is absolutely perfect for this role. In true broody manliness, he never changed his facial expression. He reminded me of a young Keanu Reeves. Anyway, he’s a vampire, not just any vampire, a ‘vegetarian’ vampire. Oh the sheer horror! What that means for us normal people is that he doesn’t drink the blood of people, he drinks the blood from animals. I think PETA may disagree with your vegetarianism claims buddy.

The inevitable happens. Bella falls for Eric/Edward/whatever, because she can resist his broody manliness. He in turn cannot resist her, so much so that he watches her sleep. Sweet isn’t it? Until she discovers that he is, in fact, a vampire. When she confronts him about it, he admits to his dietary habits.

Alarm bells should be ringing now Bella.

But no, Bella likes a challenge, or maybe she wants to die or she’s into blood sports, I don’t know. Eric/Edward tells Bella that he’s a vampire AND he really wants to ‘suck her blood’ because he can’t resist her brand of damsel in distress. “You’re like my personal brand of heroin”

AND SHE STILL WANTS HIM. Pfft. Teenagers. Really.

Our manly hero man decides to step into the sunlight to show her what a monster he really is. During this point I was literally on the edge of my seat, awaiting a grotesque transformation of ‘The Incredible Hulk’ proportions… only to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He doesn’t turn into a monster, his skin glitters like a million diamonds.

Oh no! Anything but that!

Very clever mister screenplay writer person. Now all of the female audience will forget about the million holes in the plot because he’s so beautiful. I saw through this only because I’m too self absorbed to focus my attention on anything other than myself for too long. I see their tactic though:

How could Bella resist him now? Even though he’s likely to devour her and probably get her family into cliffhanger like predicaments, we’ll forgive her because he shines like a fucking million diamonds. Its in our chemical makeup. Why dear reader? BECAUSE WOMEN LOVE DIAMONDS. We’re part human-part magpie. Some woman are more magpie than human but that’s not my point.

The rest of the movie isn’t worth mentioning. He saves her life. They end off in a beautifully lit setting and one bad guy remains, smirking into the camera lens. They need a point to start the sequel. I get it.

All in all… it was ghastly. The first thing I thought when I walked out of the cinema: ‘I really need to pee’.

Tagged , ,