Wednesday, 25 July 2012

blog - grrrrrrrrrrr

 Inspired by Russell Brand, the Dalai Llama and various other people who seem nicer for meditating. I have committed to meditating twice a day. Unfortunately it hasn't made that much difference yet. Today I was walking down Queen street, minding my own business when one of those charity vultures in a bright blue windbreaker jumped out from behind a pole and started trying to force me to notice him. "Hey pretty lady. Hi. Hi there. Is that a smile? Can I talk to you for a minute"

I have never felt less like the Dalai Llama. In all honesty I had to stop my self from grabbing the UNICEF clipboard he was waving around to attract my attention and shoving it in a very, very uncharitable place!

I don't like my space being invaded, but it's even worse when it's for charity. What the F? Just because you have UNICEF on your jacket doesn't mean I'm going to give you my credit card number. Also it pisses me off that the person who says no ends up feeling bad about it all. Oh no I just turned down UNICEF - I'm going to hell and so on.

My first job in New Zealand was doing the door to door version of harassment charity. You know when someone knocks on your door and shows you pictures of starving orphans or whatever and tries to get your credit card number... that was me. It's still right up there as one of the worst jobs I've ever had in my life ever (even worse than dressing up as a bear for a children's theatre production of Noddy. The bear suit weighed over 10 kilograms (I was Mrs Tubby Bear so there had to be padding to make me suitably tubby) and was like one of those 1980's sweat to lose weight plastic jogging suits  try dancing and singing the 'I'm a tubby bear' song in that! - I lost 5kgs doing that production! I wanted to rent the suit out to rich housewives as a get thin quick scheme...)

Anyway back to the story...

So the adverts for the charitable endeavour featured dollar signs (you know the one: 'make $$$') This is, of course, always a really bad sign. I now know that $$$ is code for 'who needs a soul anyway' or prostitution (which I have more respect for than ambush sales tactics).

The advert was something like "Save the world and make $$$. Get experience and work towards a promising career in sales and marketing."

This bore little resemblance to the actual job which was, in reality, 'knock on random people's doors and hassle them until they give you their credit card number or tell you to f&%k off"

They did training which involved teaching all the leaping out from behind things and forcing eye contact with annoying banter and arm flapping techniques that Mr Charity above used. For every person you convinced to sign up you got commission (I was having a 'ding unethical' moment but I was kind of in love with the idea of being struggling immigrant making good through the sweat of my brow and good old fashioned American family values - kind of like that mouse in "An American Tale" but not Jewish.... or in New York.... or a mouse.... ) 

Finishing my training I set out into the world with my fresh clipboard and a pocket full of dreams.

I lasted one day.  I hated it so much. I hated bothering people at home. I hated that we couldn't actually take one off donations that people were willing to make. I hated it all. The final straw was going to the house of a very lovely man from England. He asked me if I was ok. I burst into tears and ended up sitting amongst his rose bushes being comforted by the poor guy. I quit the next day. The most hilarious thing is that I found out from someone who worked there that everyone had been told that I'd been fired (obviously they didn't want anyone to realise that quitting was actually an option).

So now when someone comes at me with a clip board and patter I truly want to smash them.  Maybe it's bitterness - maybe it's not. I will, however, always give at least 5 bucks to anyone who is willing to dress up in an animal costume for charity - now that shows dedication. (trust me I know)

p.s. breaking news my flatmate has had a Weta on his sock for a couple of days. Both of us are too scared to touch it. I think it might be making a home there... I'm going to start a fund to help it bring its family over from the old country... I just need to get my clipboard

For those of you not from NZ this is a Weta

p.p.s. I wrote a song about the Weta... it is below

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Benjamin Button - not

I was debating whether to post this but I think that even though it sucks to be me in it (ha ha) it's pretty hilarious....

So this week I went to have my measurements taken for bridesmaids dresses with one of my dear friends. I'd had a heavy week (band practice, interesting event launches, mental karaoke evenings) So I rolled out of bed, showered, organized my hair (as best I could - it's always slightly touch and go with my hair), skipped the make-up and raced off to meet her.

I have to admit that I've been a bit nervous about having my measurements taken. It's always kind of nerve wracking. I don't own a scale (I say NO to Fascist weighing implements), so I have no idea other than on my clothes as to any changes in my silhouette. Anyway she measured me and looked a bit horrified (I could see her trying to keep it inside) as my waist and rib cage measurements were a lot bigger than she expected them to be, so for the dress they would have to get it two sizes bigger than my hip size. So of course the first thing that went through my mind was - omg there's something wrong with my body! I'm essentially malformed and so on.

I remember once reading that the essential difference between men and women was that when something doesn't fit a woman she thinks - "there's something wrong with me" while a man thinks "there's something wrong with this shirt". I was trying to me a man about the whole thing but not really doing so well.

Anyway moving on - we proceeded to the jewelry counter at a nearby mall. It had one of those islands that the assistant stands inside surrounded by pretty gems and the like. She immediately latched onto me and followed me round and round as I browsed asking me if she could help,  trying to upsell and generally scaring the living crap out of me with her attentiveness. (I couldn't work it out - did she think I was a shop lifter? How could I do it. Everything was under glass. Maybe she thought I was an X-men shop lifter.) Subconsciously I started going round and round faster and making random changes in direction to see if I was being paranoid or if Ping(our helpful assistant) was really on me like a heat seeking missile. She zigged for everyone of my zags and was starting to look really nauseous (round and round and round ya know) so I took pity on her and stopped and said "I don't buy jewelry - speak to my friend she's the one who's buying."

Ping looked confused and then said, "oh I thought... well sometimes mothers bring their daughters in to buy them jewelry"


I did a goldfish with my mouth a couple of times and then tried to smile politely and say it was ok but inside - inside was another story.... "I'm strangely shaped AND I'm OLD, but not only am I old but I LOOK OLD!"

I laughed it off - ha ha ha but really inside...

Also I've always looked pretty young for my age - resulting in a lot of really embarrassing moments including - when I was 27 being called to the front of a queue at a club by the bouncer and berated for trying to get into a club at my age. His face, when he saw my id, was a picture though.

It appears those days are gone now.

Truth be told I am old enough to be a mom - but my friend is 30!!!! come on!!

I immediately vowed to never ever ever go anywhere again without full war paint when I say full I mean full (but natural looking so that it seems I've put in barely any effort , of course). I considered googling (the fast hasn't been going so well) botox options. I went straight to the bathroom and put on mascara and some lipstick (which actually made quite a remarkable difference) but I had to admit that gone were the days that I would get id'd if I didn't have make up on. Now people think I'm just to busy with my four adult kids to be bothered with my appearance.

And maybe I am getting old... I remember seeing the artist Flo Rida's name and thinking "Why on earth would somebody with that many tattoos want to call himself Florida - what's this cat thinking? It's hardly appropriate Daddy-O. It's just too square. The youth of today... (ok I possibly didn't say the last part but the first bit is all true)

I remember one of my friends at the age of about 33 saying 'kids these days' when talking about her kids. I was horrified - she was acting like she was about a hundred and five (and it was about the terrible influence of that scandalous tear away Avril Lavigne - come on she's hardly Marilyn Manson!) (not that I would want my kids to be influenced by Avril... 'hey hey you you I don't like your girlfriend'...smack (Avril not the kids... ) When I was Avril's age we had to walk uphill through the snow and the blazing sun to attempt to break up someone's relationship )

I just don't know if I can get my head around looking like a mom. It wouldn't be so bad if I actually had kids - but not having kids and looking like a mom feels a bit... sad. If you don't have kids you should be glamourous and fabulous and have disposable income to spend on things like Botox and facial peels (which I don't).

The one bonus thing though was that for the rest of the weekend I got to bum around and do as little as I wanted (including eating popcorn in bed whilst watching True Blood) - a thing I'm led to believe doesn't happen when you have kids. And I can now buy alcohol at the supermarket without ID.

Below is Flo Rida apparently this song is about fellatio (the youth of today!!!)

Saturday, 14 July 2012

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Saturday, 7 July 2012

GoogleFREAK:The internet... and other weird ass things

My name is Teresa and I'm an addict.

I'm addicted to Google - I can't stop googling things.

 Today in my googling I found out that if you were in Rock of Ages and married to someone called Katy that things are not going very well for you on the relationship front. Wowzers Tom Cruise get off the sofa - you didn't see that one coming! I have to admit I feel weirdly sorry for him... but only a little. 

The whole scientology thing is a bit of a brain melt. This, naturally, started off a bit of a googling chain reaction... Scientology, ancient dead aliens (they were dropped in Volcanoes by some dude called Zenu) attached to us and making us sad until we give all our money to the church of Scientology (erm I think that was how it worked), getting audited by a weird thing that looks like a Geiger counter with two metal tubes attached to it  and people feeling better than ever until they don't and try to leave but can't. Operating Thetan levels, missing people, SeaOrg the mostly land-based leadership of Scientology (yeah I know... what the F), intimidation, Squirrels (not the furry animals - the Scientology defectors) and the search for Tom Cruise's actual height (a secret more closely guarded than anything in Scientology.) 

Above is a snippet of the awesome bottle of fully carbonated crazy juice that is Tom Cruise and Scientology... (it's 30 minutes but - it's 30 minutes of WOW..... take some time out and watch it)

In the midst of my quest through the maze of WTFery that is the internet - I also found out that Oprah is a satanist - bringing Eckhart Tolle and God-forbid... meditation to the masses and obviously while they're sitting quietly and focusing on their breathing and surrounding themselves in white light or whatever, they are actually being inducted into the cult of Oprah (I knew all those book club books seemed suspicious!! Trying to get through the Poisonwood Bible did make me feel mildly suicidal!). Then I found out that Christianity is a cult that went mainstream (I did find the way the vid started with Jesus and Buddha and then proceeded on to other popular religions like Jim Jone's People's Temple and the Manson Family a leeeeetle bit confusing) and I also, also found out that the British Royal family is descended from ancient Sumerian reptile aliens.

 My final and possibly most disturbing discovery was that there has been a terrifying increase in the number of people losing the plot (google "bathsalts" - not the type from The Body Shop) and trying to eat other people's faces off. Out of these theories the only one with current actual documented evidence that it's actually really happening in reality is the "Zombies eating people's faces off" one (really did that have to be the one that's true - I thought the queen was aging suspiciously well - I had my money on the reptile theory) but still I'm starting to feel a little nervous about going out of the house... also I find myself starting to wonder - I mean there are some crazy things that happen in the world (see face-eating Zombies!) maybe there is some truth in the conspiracy theories.

Throughout history human beings have had a morbid fascination with weird and confusing shit (The fact that people actually watched Lost to the end is proof of this). Is it because we want to believe in something? 

When I was about 9 or 10 years old I found my mother's stash of "Mysteries of the Unexplained" journals. Being an above average reader for my age I soon developed a keen interest in aliens, ghosts and the Loch Ness monster... I also developed a real fear of being abducted by the previously mentioned aliens. (Many a night was spent lying very very still in my bed hoping that they wouldn't come and get me I wasn't totally sure what a probe was (only 10) but I could tell from the articles and the blurry re-enactment photograph that it wasn't good!... I remember reading one article that mentioned that there were millions of spheres that looked like mothballs when someone was abducted... to this day I still feel panicky when I smell mothballs!)

That was pre-internet nowadays anyone with access to an internet cafe can put their theory out into the world. I have begun to have a bit of a conspiracy theory conspiracy theory. What if all the conspiracy theories are there to be so ridiculous that we miss the truth in amongst them. Maybe the whole purpose of information overload is to break our spirits so that we just give up because it all seems too much.

How do we know what is and isn't true - people lie all the time. e.g. I didn't have sexual relations with that woman.... oh actually I did -or- Asbestos doesn't cause cancer.... oh look it does - or - Vanessa and I are still together.... oh wait we're not  (yes I'm still on about that) And don't even get me started on advertising!

How do we separate the truth from the rubbish? To be honest I haven't got a fucking clue. Maybe I'm not convinced that chemtrails are part of a weather control experiment by the USA military because my free will has been subdued by the fluoride in the water supply coating my pineal gland.... gah! (Google fluoride and pineal gland!)

All I have learned is that Googling begets more Googling!! This is not always the best thing in the world. For instance I now know that there are bucket-fulls of crazies out there - all of whom can type (sort of) and make websites and put things up on the internet (and create blogs that go blah blah blah about their opinions.... oh).

So what to do.... well, I'm thinking of implementing a Google fast... and getting a hobby... like basket weaving... or macrame.... only problem is I'm going to have to Google them because I don't know anything about them.... which creates a bit of a conundrum.

Or I could move out to the middle of nowhere and just get back to nature - I saw this enchanting place on the internet.... it's run by a lovely bearded man in a kaftan... I'm sure it's a legitimate spiritual retreat... now where is my credit card

PS below is a full Scientology Doco for anyone who is interested... it's cray cray!