Would You Like Fries With That?

No. No I would not. Otherwise there is a good chance I would have asked for it. But who knows, maybe there is a one in a million customer that has some kind of inability to request some fries. In which case, lucky they have the cashier asking each and every person if they would like fries with their previously ordered fries. I remember a certain conversation between a cashier and I some time ago;

"Hi, could I please get a large Coke?"
"Sure, would you like fries with that?"
"I'm sorry, but is there any reason you think I'm mentally incapable?"
"Pardon?"
"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't actually recall asking for fries. Did I?"
"No."
"Right, well what makes you think I have a mental deficiency that leaves me incapable of asking for some fries with my drink?"
"Nothing, we are just told to ask everyone."
"So you think that no-one is capable of asking for fries?"
"No, we are just told to ask everyone"
"Right, well is there anything else you'd like to know if I don't want?"
"We are told to ask everyone."
"Do you remember what I do want?"
"Uh...A large Coke?"
"Very good. Thank you."

So, If anyone reading this happens to be placed in a situation in which they feel they should ask if the customer wants fries with whatever they ordered, stop and think "Do they look retarded?" That is all.

T.

Dancing Ability Does Not Equal Musical Ability

Too many times I have said to someone "rap/R'n'B/etc. is neither musical or talented" and the response I receive is "but they can dance/are hot/are real gangstas (note the ridiculous spelling)." So fucking what? Maybe the can dance, maybe they are hot, or maybe they did live a tough life on the ghetto. This does not mean that they possess musical talent. Just because Usher can dance does not mean he should get away with songs like "Yeah". I'm sorry, but that song lacks any remote connection to music. Actually I'm not sorry. I fucking hate Usher. And just because 50 Cent lived a "gangsta" life does not mean that he should even be considered musical, let alone allowed to make a record.
But I guess it's not really the lack of music talent that gets me, so much as the lyrics. Every song is about women ("bitches"), money (or "bling") and killing people (or as they so kindly put it, "bustin' a cap"). Doesn't that get a little repetitive? Not even a bit?
Before I leave so I don't get so frustrated at all this lack of talent that I end up tearing the limbs off a poor, defenceless gorilla and feeding them to a starving family in Turkmenistan, I will bring to your attention one more thing. Has anyone else noticed how stupid the rap/R'n'B "artists" names are?

Usher - Someone that shows an audience to their seats
50 cent - 1/2 a dollar
Emniem - Suprisingly close to a small, candy coated chocolate
Li'l Bow Wow - A soft, pethetic attempt at a dog bark
Li'l John - A smaller version of a regular person
Li'l Kim - Another smaller version of a normal person (notice the fact that many of them consider themselves little)
Li'l Bitch - This one's not actually real...to my knowledge
Scribe - Someone that writes shit (all by himself!)

The list goes on. Now lacking musical ability is one thing, but naming yourself something as stupid as that? These people don't even deserve to live, and people consider them artists. What happened? When did society consider throwing a pile of words together (anywhere between 1 and about 8 per song, as I'm not entirely sure that "I'm not gon' giv'up" is any more than 2) and laying a bass track onto it art? Or music? Or anything but a waste of time, money and effort? That is all.

T.

Could You Please Turn it Down a Bit?

Only recently, I have started noticing the absurdly loud volume of everything. Now it may be because I am just getting old and frail, but everything is all of a sudden too loud. I walk into a shop (particularly a clothes shop) and I can't hear myself think.
"Oh, that doesn't look so bad, ill go try it on. Wait, fuck, no I won't, Jamiroquai is being played at 12-billion decibals. Oh God, someone is even dancing. Right, time to cut out my eyes."
And then there's TV ads. I find myself in the bathroom or the kitchen, and being able to hear the ads in there better than I could hear the TV show that was on when I was sitting on the couch. It's actually amazing just how much louder the TV ads are. And half of them are filled with people screaming.
"Come to the massive super ultra mega hyper power sale at the warehouse! Must end tonight! Or tomorrow. Or when we feel like we have sold enough. But fuck, get down here right now, or you'll miss it! You haven't moved from your TV yet! Quickly, come down otherwise the 6 billion persian rugs and 5 trillion sets of underwear may be gone! Never mind the fact that it's 10:30 at night! Just get the fuck out of your house! Slashed prices for up to 5 different items! That's right! 5! Holy shit!" And so on an so forth.
My parents own a home theatre business. And we sell a subwoofer called a DD-18. This thing is, I kid you not, 120kgs and about 100cm tall and 50x50 wide. It's a fucking big sub. Now we have only had these in stock for about a month, and we have already sold about 5. Who the hell needs a sub the size of a fucking country? It's not healthy to listen to this thing go even half as loud as it can. It can cause serious permanent damage. But people are buying them and taking them home. It loud not good enough? Do people need "So fucking loud that not only will you lose your hearing, you you will lose your sight, sense of smell and control of your bladder loud"? Because that's basically the specialty of this thing. To kill people through noise.
So we really need to just tone things down a notch. Or maybe I just need to figure out how to change the volume on my TV. I don't know. That is all.

T.

Max Havoc: Curse of the Shit

Ok for some reason I was up watching TV at 2:00am last night, and I saw a movie called "Max Havoc: Curse of the Dragon". So I thought "this should be good for a laugh", and started watching. However, I was unaware of just how horrible and talentless this movie could be. For the next 90 minutes I sat wondering how such a steaming pile of shit would even be made, let alone televised. It was the most pathetic excuse for a movie I have ever seen. It even (somehow) topped "Dead or Alive".
To start with, it was another sad excuse for soft core porn. Not quite to the extent that DOA was, but still blatantly obvious. And I thought the acting in DOA was bad. This acting was so bad that it got to the point where the main characters accent was changing scene by scene. Shouldn't the producer or director or anyone at all pick that up and point it out?
And then came the inaccuracies. And they came with force. To start with, everyone talked with an American accent and spoke fluent english. Now normally that wouldn't be weird, but the movie was set in Guam, and was about a Japanese gang of samurai called the "Black Dragon". Now it could just be me, but I figure that if you are a Japanese gang, you speak Japanese. I don't know. But to add insult to injury, this Japanese gang of samurai was led by a white American. That just doesn't happen. No Japanese gang would let a white American lead, especially a gang of samurai.
Then there were the fight scenes. Several times in the movie, people would get slashed with a samurai sword across the chest, not only was there no blood (excusable, as I'm almost certain that this movie was given about $40 for production costs), but no-one seemed to die. The only person to die in the movie was a man that was choked. Now, again, correct me if I'm wrong, but being cut across the chest with a samurai sword would kill someone quite easily. Particularly if the one slicing was a trained samurai.
But all of these inaccuracies were topped by the final fight scene. Sure, the fight started perfectly normally, but then the bad guy took out a sword. So in an attempt at retaliation, the good guy wrapped chains aroud his hands. This isn't so bad. But apparently, punching someone with a chain wrapped around your fist does less damage than kicking them in the stomach. No I hear you say? Well, sadly, that was the idea given by this movie.
Then came the worst inaccuracy ever. The main character punched a samurai sword in half. thats right, punched it in half. Now katanas are folded steel. They are bascially designed to withstand anything people can throw at them. They really can not be punched in half by anyone. They can't even be cut in half. But sure enough, one punch and he went straight through it. Wow.
I guess through all of this there is one benefit. And that is that if I ever decide to become a script writer, I know that all I need to do is throw a pile of impossible circumstances and events together, hire the worst possible actors and write a pathetic storyline and I can call it a movie. And by the looks of it, if I can do that it will be made and televised. Thank you Max Havoc for reviving my passionate hatred and frustration towards Hollywood. That is all.

T.

Shopping

As a general recommendation, men and women should not shop together. Men are simple, and shop for something that makes loud noises or makes things explode, and then wants to go home and try it out. Women, on the other hand, for some apparent reason feel the need to touch 1,500 different textures before leaving the shopping centre. I have found that they will even walk 10 or 20 metres out of their way, just to touch something. Obediently, you follow behind and say "Oh do you like that?" and they look at you with startled eyes and say "of course not, its hideous!" Oh. I see.
But the worst is shopping with mothers. Because not only do the mothers feel the need to touch 1,500 different textures, but it doesn't matter what on earth you say to them, it doesn't make a difference. "I'm bored", "I'm tired", "I want to go home", "I accidently cut off my leg", "Yes that one looks good on you as well", "But you have already tried that on. 16 times.", "The apocalypse is coming", "Why on earth did you just walk 15 metres to touch something that you thought looked hideous?" . Nothing. Not even recognition that you exist.
But seperate shopping is hardly possible, unless of course someone doesn't move, because no-one ever decides on a meeting spot.
"I'll meet you at woolies at 3, unless of course I decide that I want to buy some pants, in which case I'll meet you at 3:04 at the fountain, but I might also decide to get some lunch and then meet up with you so I can get your opinion on the pants, and if that's the case I'll meet you at 3:09 at the food court, you'll find me. Unless of course I decide to get take away, in which case you will need to find me somewhere in Canada, because for some reason it's easier to fly over there to get food. Ok, so basically, stay right here until I get back, which could be anytime between now and 6:00am the next day. If I come back and you have moved I will just drive home without you, ok?"
"Yes." No.
"Good."
And then they are gone, and you are left at your new home for the next 12 hours. And you know that the second you move out of sight, they will return, and you will be totally fucked. Particularly if you are with you mother, because even though you live in Hornsby, and there is a shopping centre down the road, the one in Parramatta apparently sells lovely plates. Not that you even end up buying plates. So in your boredom, you somehow end up losing a limb and having to move, and so now you are not only stranded, but minus one limb.
So you limp over to the information desk bleeding profusely in the hopes of somehow paging your lost mother, and you find it vacant. When someone does arrive, and finally agrees to page your mother, the page comes out as follows;
"Would this kids mother please meet them at the information centre on level 1 now. Unless, of course, you are buying lunch, in which case meet them in the car park level 3 on space 166 at 4:56. But if you are still trying on those pants, please meet your child in Amsterdam at 3:07 (even though the current time happens to be 4:30, of course). Or you could just ignore this and hope they find you. Thank you."
To which your response is generally, "Fuck it!" and you storm off and take your own life. That is all.

T.