Okay, please forgive the dramatic title. I do not really hate males. I have plenty of nice male friends, who i think are great. I have male family members. I work with males. I even have a male boyfriend ! Yes that's right, a male and not a female boyfriend. In fact i am generally happy to coexist with the male species in my life. However, I'd be lying if i said that they don't seem to have some generalised and probably deeply stereotypical traits which, forgive my Scottish, dae my head in! I shall try to clarify these traits without turning this blog post into a misandristic rant.
(1) Their very limited emotional spectrum. Females have a wide variety of different emotions. They can have a 'fat day'. This generally is nothing to do with their current weight, but more to do with how they feel when trying on particular items of clothing, or relating to whether they will go out partying or sit at a friends eating six cans of salt and vinegar pringles in sour cream dip in a baggy t-shirt and a pair of leggings. They also go through several distinct stages during their 'time'. These include feeling irritable, then moody, then snappy, then sad, then lonely, then depressed, and finally with the help of female friends and chocolate, they return back to normal for another month. However males? They feel content or angry. Occasionally sad, when their football team loses. But generally more angry. That is all.
(2) Their lack of comforting skills. So you have a problem. It turns our that your best friend is moving to a new flat. You will no longer be able to nip to hers to borrow her eye lash glue or to have a cup of tea. So you confide in your male friend. And what does he say? He tells you that it's only a thirty minute drive, and that a bus service also runs between where you and she stays. YES I ALREADY KNOW THAT! The problem with males is that they give solutions to problems! Solutions that you already know. What they fail to understand is that you don't want a solution. You just want them to listen to how upset you are, occasionally murmur a 'mmm' and a 'yes', then give you a glass of wine to cheer you up. Is that so hard?
(3) Their obsession with sport. I don't mind a bit of football. In fact i love sport; particularly pole fitness. However, males have a tendency to take this to an extreme level. If you have ever been in the same room as males while they are watching the football, prepare to be entirely ignored. In fact, if you walked into the room naked, it is highly likely that they would wait until half time to glance in your direction. But the problem is - sport never ends. When the 'oh so important' premier league finishes, then the 'also so important' World cup or Wimbeldon or Grande Prix or British Isles cup will then begin. There will always be some super important game on. This is some obsession, which if it wasn't so common would probably be treated my medical professionals as serious. There should be tablets for such things.
(4) Their competitiveness. Okay I'm a bit of a hypocrite here, I'm rather competitive myself. I'm the type of person who will play poker for eight hours just to show the boys who is the best, or who will 'secretly' go in a mood when beaten at chess by her younger sister (which was only ever one time it should be noted). However, males take this to a whole new level. To them, life is a game. They compete to see who is the strongest, who gets the most pulls in a nightclub, who has the fastest growing moustache; anything and everything! They will put their own dignity and morale's to the side when competing with other males, and will most certainly not admit being beaten at anything by a female.
Okay, I'm going to stop now. I think i may have failed my mission to not create a misandristic rant. And I'm sure you are thinking that these traits are highly stereotyped and do not apply to every male. However, they apply to many and simply writing this quasi rant has made me feel better. Now if you don't mind, it's time for a pint of beer and a wee read of nuts magazine.
Friday, 27 July 2012
Wednesday, 20 October 2010
FMD! The new acronym
Okay, well i would like to start my very first blog with the notorious acronym 'FML'. For those of you who don't already know, it stands for 'F*** my life', and it often a term used my moany people on a daily basis on social networking sites, when their television programme is not on, or if they run out of mascara. It is a phrase which has created a lot of controversy in the facebook world. 'It can't be that bad' some say. Others refer to victims or wars, poverty and George Osbourne's preposterous regressive budget (more Tory ranting in future blogs). Others however claim using such a phrase gives one a sense of relief. It's an exaggeration, not meant to be taken literally. (And when i say literally, i don't mean too literally, as that would not be possible due to the intangible nature of the word life).
So why then, you ask, have i used the acronym myself? Is it because i am melodramatic? A moany teenager? Had a really bad day? My answer is all of above. Particularly the latter. You know that one day you have where everything physically wrong all happens on one particular day? That feeling you get in the morning when your socks get wet and you just think 'nothing can possibly go right during this day'? That was my day today. The only way to relieve my pain, was to rant about it
It began well, at 6.30 am. I clicked the snooze button on my alarm, or at least what i thought was the snooze button, and shut my eyes for one minute. I then looked at my phone and noticed that it was not 6.31 as i believed, but 7.15! I dived out of bed, running around to attempt to put on my makeup and clothes. I usually left my house at twenty past seven! Luckily my dad drove me to the train station, however in my rush i forgot a few items, including my apple which i had specially cut up and placed into the fridge, which i later discovered. This included my phone. My line of communication, left behind like lost luggage. I headed for university, in the freezing cold . . . .
See if this was a fairy story? I would find a tenner on the ground and everything would be merry. Life ain't no fairytale though. More bad things were yet to darken my doorstep during this awful day. It must be karma from the time i killed that mayfly accidentally on a biology trip. When i got to university, i attended my nine o'clock psychology lecture, and had great difficulty staying awake, despite an extra forty five minutes sleep. I needed a coffee like a fish needs water. I then studied until lunch.
I spent lunch with a few friends in the library tables. I thought of what i believed to be an ingenious idea the night before for this lunch of mine. It was to take a flask of boiling water with me, along with an almighty pot noodle. It would be great, and the other students would gaze longingly at it, wishing they had thought of it first! If only i had brought a fork with me. Fortunately, i was able to buy one (yes ten blooming pence was charged for a silly little plastic fork!). I poured the hot water into my pot noodle and waited. And waited. And waited. Only then did i make the sudden realisation. It hit me like a bullet. The noodles weren't softening. They were still hard. And cold. The hot water was not sufficient. I ate a banana, and wished i had used my flask for the purposes of tea. I needed a cuppa really bad.
Afterwards, i figured everything bad had happened. Nothing else could possibly go wrong. It simple would go against the nature of odds. The odds of sleeping in? Perhaps one in a hundred. The odds of taking a pot noodle and flask of hot water in? Well let me know when you find someone else daft enough to have done the same. But no. After visiting the bathroom, i turned on the tap to wash my hands. WHOOSH! The water squirted out like a fireman's hose! (No euphemisms intended). It squirted onto my jeggings leaving me wet. I looked down onto my hand, only to find the tap had broken off! Mortified, i quickly shoved it back on, and managed to control the beast. A girl in the toilets looked over at me, almost sympathetically, and then left.
I shall hurry the next parts of my story, as not to bore you. I went and sat a business exam, which finished late and i missed both express trains and got the ten to six one. I also had to walk in the rain to my dads house to pick up my phone. I got back and simultaneously went on facebook, crammed sweets down my mouth, and completed my report until around half twelve. What a day!
So, to conclude, i will have to rethink my usage of the acronym 'FML'. I feel that although i am indeed a drama queen, it is a little extreme. I mean, it's only a few days which are that bad, not my entire life. I still have tea and shark jokes after all. So i think it is only fair to create a new acronym. I hope i can lead by example, so that others may continue to use this acronym as an alternative to the more harsh and melodramatic 'FML'. It is indeed the title - 'FMD', meaning 'F*** my day'. It is for times where you miss your train, your dog pees on your bed, and for when your friend lets your yellow car roll down into a river claiming it was inevitable
So why then, you ask, have i used the acronym myself? Is it because i am melodramatic? A moany teenager? Had a really bad day? My answer is all of above. Particularly the latter. You know that one day you have where everything physically wrong all happens on one particular day? That feeling you get in the morning when your socks get wet and you just think 'nothing can possibly go right during this day'? That was my day today. The only way to relieve my pain, was to rant about it
It began well, at 6.30 am. I clicked the snooze button on my alarm, or at least what i thought was the snooze button, and shut my eyes for one minute. I then looked at my phone and noticed that it was not 6.31 as i believed, but 7.15! I dived out of bed, running around to attempt to put on my makeup and clothes. I usually left my house at twenty past seven! Luckily my dad drove me to the train station, however in my rush i forgot a few items, including my apple which i had specially cut up and placed into the fridge, which i later discovered. This included my phone. My line of communication, left behind like lost luggage. I headed for university, in the freezing cold . . . .
See if this was a fairy story? I would find a tenner on the ground and everything would be merry. Life ain't no fairytale though. More bad things were yet to darken my doorstep during this awful day. It must be karma from the time i killed that mayfly accidentally on a biology trip. When i got to university, i attended my nine o'clock psychology lecture, and had great difficulty staying awake, despite an extra forty five minutes sleep. I needed a coffee like a fish needs water. I then studied until lunch.
I spent lunch with a few friends in the library tables. I thought of what i believed to be an ingenious idea the night before for this lunch of mine. It was to take a flask of boiling water with me, along with an almighty pot noodle. It would be great, and the other students would gaze longingly at it, wishing they had thought of it first! If only i had brought a fork with me. Fortunately, i was able to buy one (yes ten blooming pence was charged for a silly little plastic fork!). I poured the hot water into my pot noodle and waited. And waited. And waited. Only then did i make the sudden realisation. It hit me like a bullet. The noodles weren't softening. They were still hard. And cold. The hot water was not sufficient. I ate a banana, and wished i had used my flask for the purposes of tea. I needed a cuppa really bad.
Afterwards, i figured everything bad had happened. Nothing else could possibly go wrong. It simple would go against the nature of odds. The odds of sleeping in? Perhaps one in a hundred. The odds of taking a pot noodle and flask of hot water in? Well let me know when you find someone else daft enough to have done the same. But no. After visiting the bathroom, i turned on the tap to wash my hands. WHOOSH! The water squirted out like a fireman's hose! (No euphemisms intended). It squirted onto my jeggings leaving me wet. I looked down onto my hand, only to find the tap had broken off! Mortified, i quickly shoved it back on, and managed to control the beast. A girl in the toilets looked over at me, almost sympathetically, and then left.
I shall hurry the next parts of my story, as not to bore you. I went and sat a business exam, which finished late and i missed both express trains and got the ten to six one. I also had to walk in the rain to my dads house to pick up my phone. I got back and simultaneously went on facebook, crammed sweets down my mouth, and completed my report until around half twelve. What a day!
So, to conclude, i will have to rethink my usage of the acronym 'FML'. I feel that although i am indeed a drama queen, it is a little extreme. I mean, it's only a few days which are that bad, not my entire life. I still have tea and shark jokes after all. So i think it is only fair to create a new acronym. I hope i can lead by example, so that others may continue to use this acronym as an alternative to the more harsh and melodramatic 'FML'. It is indeed the title - 'FMD', meaning 'F*** my day'. It is for times where you miss your train, your dog pees on your bed, and for when your friend lets your yellow car roll down into a river claiming it was inevitable
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