Have I lulled you into a false sense of positivity? Did you think this would be my first post about things I like? Yes? Fantastic. You probably think everyone likes kittens, flowers and maybe you think it’s possible for someone to like little old ladies.
Well, I don’t.
I’m not saying I hate them. I don’t actively hate everything; everything just contrives to piss me off at any opportunity.
So what’s wrong with kittens? Kittens are cute and look soft and cuddly, I admit. Just pick one up, and feel how scratchy and boney it is. Hold a kitten in your hand and feel the conflict of wanting to touch a ball of fur with an adorable face and the fear that it will shit all over you any moment. And that’s just someone else’s kitten. If you have your own kitten, be prepared for the most disgusting constant stench and mess in your house and this scrawny little thing looking up at you and mewing pitifully while you hate it for its crime. And don’t forget, if you’re a heroin addict and don’t clean up properly, your kitten’s shit can kill you. How bad are kittens? They barely make an effort to bury their shit, and it’s seriously toxic.
Then there’s the monstrosity known as lolcats, a mashup of two hideous offences: Youtube troll spelling and pictures of other people’s cats. It doesn’t make any sense, and it shows no signs of being done yet. Why would people like this? It’s worse than those pet owners who put on a special voice for their pet and pretend it’s saying something about its’ food or wanting to go for a walk before practically french kissing the animal to everyone’s disgust. Well, it’s not worse, but it’s everywhere. I have never gone looking for lolcats, I have never even been emailed one (my friends have more sense), but I am aware of them. I have seen many, many lolcats. I don’t know how or where, or whose fault it is, but I have lolcats in my brain. Just like Kesha and Lady Gaga’s music, the Jonas brothers, Miley Cyrus, epic fails, those moronic parody movies, Snooki and the rest, lolcats have forced entry to my brain without my ever turning on a tv (I download things) or a radio. Ok, pop culture does that, but I can even see the appeal of reality tv about surgery or morons going to nightclubs. Again, I’ve never watched more than a few minutes, but there are hours of footage in my head that I may as well have seen.
I like to think about things until I get to the point of understanding the opposite point of view, and am able to agree with it, and then decide that mine is still better. But with lolcats, I just don’t get the premise. Why would cats know how to type, but not how to spell? Who took the photo? The cat’s owner? Then the cat was allowed to provide its own caption? Could the owner not help with the spelling? Or did another cat take the photo and one of them caption it and post it? Between two tech-savvy cats, you would think one of them could run it through spellcheck. Why is this humorous? I might understand if the cat in the photo was actually doing something besides squinting. I would choose toilet humour over lolcats any day. Toilet humour makes sense, even if it’s a pretty low form of humour. It’s still humour.
…..Which brings me to flowers. Flowers are nice, I guess. I like flowers. I don’t want to be bought flowers, though. It’s some kind of cliche that women want flowers, and men are too lazy to oblige. I don’t want to be given flowers. You have to go and find a vase, which unless you regularly buy flowers, you don’t have. So you have to use the good water pitcher you use for rehydrating when you’re hung over, or wash out a wine bottle and then if the flower bunch is a decent size, you have to work really hard to fit the stems in. The person who gave you the flowers will wait patiently while you find something suitable and all you want to do really is just lie down and have a nap. Actually now that I think about it, the last time I was given flowers may have made me a little biased, as I was pretty hung over and it felt like quite an ordeal. Still, don’t give me flowers. I would prefer something I can use, like food or a bottle of wine. Flowers and a bottle of wine are pretty typical gifts, and I’d prefer wine every time. Wine is more romantic, thoughtful (it shows you know me) and it won’t go bad like flowers. I don’t mind having to root out clean glasses either, because the reward is wine.
And lastly, little old ladies. I actually haven’t got much to gripe about old ladies, they are really just as insufferable as most women, with the kicker that you have to give them your seat. I mention little old ladies here and now because I was in a shoe shop this morning and overheard the most idiotic exchange since I worked in customer service.
Salesperson: Here you go (hands customer a shoe)
Eldery customer: Actually, give me the right foot.
Salesperson: no problem (hands customer the right shoe)
Elderly customer: Thanks, sorry about that. It’s just I have one foot bigger than the other.
Salesperson: Yeah, most people do.
Eldery customer: No… (heavy breathing as she tries to jam her foot into the shoe) …it’s because my ascendant is in Pisces.
I have nothing else to say.