Tuesday 24 May 2011


I have decided that today will be dedicated to an overall rant (cause why not) about a few things that are annoying me out in the world – let’s see how many make your list.

Celebrity fragrances: WHY? Seriously, why? I don’t want to smell like you just because you're a 'celebrity;' I don’t care what you think smells good for that matter, and when people like Justin Bieber (WHAT 16 year old boy do you know smells good or knows what smells good?) start launching their own fragrances, well it should be a sign to the universe at large that things are starting to fall off kilter.

Public figures that have affairs – and here’s the kicker, try to hide it even once they’re outed. How about all those public figures out there that don’t think they can keep the one eyed salami in their famous pants don’t get married and have children. It’s a novel concept I realize, but staying a bachelor means just that – you can act like an over testosteroned swinger and sleep with anything that has a pulse and no one has to be the wiser. Cause let me tell you something, shagging the housekeeper/masseuse/trainer/nanny/secretary etc. on the sly and thinking in this day and age that it is going to remain a secret is just dumb. [Attention cheaters everywhere, the cell phone (iphone, blackberry, take your pick) will screw you if the tabloids don't]. Shagging anyone aside from your wife and humiliating your family in the process is just rude. Get it together.

Icelandic ash closing airports: Really this again? Can’t they put a lid on that thing?

Dancing/Skating/Cooking/Needlepointing/Basketweaving with the Stars: How many shows like these do we need? I get it; they learn a skill, get yelled at by a panel of moody judges and lose weight in the process. It’s a flipping revelation (that is sarcasm people). Not to mention the fact that most of the ‘celebrities’ on these shows I’ve never heard of. Please, just stop. I know it’s your second shot at fame, but trust me, becoming re-famous for doing the samba on a broken ankle in some tight S&M style costume and having an affair with your dance partner is not a fame that is going to last.

My child thinking my toes are French fries: yes, the King has now decided he is a piranha and my toes are suddenly the treat du jour. When I least suspect it, he will dart under the table like a stealth marine, pop one of my toes in his mouth and bite down with such ferocity that he draws blood. He then of course looks up at me and smiles, thinking this is a really fun game. 

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