Posts Tagged ‘funny


“We are going to the cinema, care to come?” “We don’t know yet where we are going to spend the hols.” “Repairing the heating cost us a fortune”.

People talk about themselves in the plural form, and I always feel a pang of envy when they do. It means they have somebody they can count on, that they are a part of someone’s life.

With me, it is always “I”. “I could go to the cinema tomorrow. Or just stay home alone hoping some thief shows up for company or prank opportunities.” “I’m not going anywhere for the holidays: first, I have no money, plus, even if I had, travelling alone would just be depressing. I could perhaps bring the thieves with me, though.” “Repairing the heating cost me a fortune and frankly I only repaired it because it was a safety hazard. And while I thought the idea of just falling asleep and sleeping forever was rather appealing, the chimney sweeper found me out so I had to fix it.”

Just my luck, by the way. The only person in my life who is singular is the chimney sweeper, who’s clearly the only one in his trade who doesn’t have a magical nanny with whom to dance on the roof, so he can actually do his job which consists in getting me out of bed at an unholy hour just to tell me that I will need to starve myself in order to be able to save enough money to pay for the privilege of not suffocating.

So, only my chimney sweeper and I are singular, everybody else is plural. I wish I could be plural, too. All the while still wishing I was singular. Actually, I think I need a language where there’s no distinction between singular and plural. I have heard Japanese might do the trick?

It looks like I am developing a phobia for grammar; which by the way has a name (it’s called grammatophobia) and yet doesn’t seem to be a legitimate phobia, so I couldn’t research how this typically works and evolves. I might be the first person affected, ever.

Will this keep to singular and plurals, so I could really solve it by adopting a language with no distinction? Or will it extend to other, more or less random, grammatical elements? Perhaps an urge to punch in the face anybody who shows off with a particularly elaborate construction? And how to make the difference between a normal reaction (anybody would be slightly tense when faced with a past perfect subjunctive tense) and a pathological one (like crossing yourself every time you encounter a cardinal number)?

And will this stay limited to grammar, or will it invade other domains? I wouldn’t be surprised if I started being pissed off at even numbers – I’m always the odd one out, while everybody else comes in pairs. The number 1 is depressing in itself. So will I end up having to buy at least three of anything? Three shoes, three gloves, three watermelons? And what am I going to do with three watermelons anyway? I don’t even like melons, plus according to The Internet, they might be depressing. Or depressed. And shady. Definitely very shady. And possibly on drugs?

turn: terrible, do not eat watermelon, and depressed!!!!!!!

pigment powder with water saccharin tricks, melon conscience exposes insider traders –
Hot summer, eat a sweet red watermelon, both hot weather and thirst. When people of this natural fruit cooing when, who thought of commitment, these red and sweet watermelon, melon actually Meixin traders to earn money, injecting saccharin and coloring the water cooked out of it! Yesterday, a melon trafficking, told reporters this one blew the whistle on shady.
[actual internet wisdom – handbook case of terminal grammatophobia]






Posted on: April 11, 2013



When you have depression, I swear that you LITERALLY see it all black. I do, at least. When sadness creep on, it is like someone had dimmed the lights. Depression is a dreary, dark place.


Very dark.


Pitch black, in fact.

Click. Click, click, click.

OK, not THAT literally dark – oh shit, they have cut off my electric power.

So what do you do in such a situation? Well, first you turn on your computer, observe with dismay that you have only a couple of hours before you are cut off from the rest of the world, and send a pathetic Skype IM to the Blasted Thing of your choice, telling him vaguely and cutely that you are having some kind of a problem.

It’s really nothing you need his help for, but a reply would bring the light back to your heart at least, and who needs a light bulb when you have a heart full of light?  He is going to offer his help, say that he will call the electrical company in the morning so there will be no language problems, and in the meantime you can stay at his place and have a warm shower and recharge your batteries and get a goodnight kiss, and you will graciously decline, telling him that you are a strong, independent woman who has her shit together and has only had a  split second of weakness because of the shock, and how silly was that? And he will tell you that of course you are not silly, and that you can call him any time, and to let him know if you change your mind, and anyway a promised kiss is a kiss owed, and all will be right with the world and the sun will shine and the birds will chirp and they will only very rarely land droppings on your bike, and never on the saddle or on the handlebars.

In the Real World, the Blasted Thing didn’t reply, but I wasn’t crushed, because I know that he really cares about me. I just need to get WhatsApp.

Actually, when the computer finally died on me, I regretted sending that message: both computer and phone were now turned off, and since I hadn’t stated what my problem was, it sounded like it was something really serious, and he was going to get all worried and would probably drive to my place to check on me, and this would take him the best part of twenty minutes, and what was I going to tell him then? That all that fuss was about a power outage? I considered getting ready for the inevitability by staging a real emergency for when he would come pounding at my door, like smearing myself with raspberry jam and pretending I had cut myself, or jotting down the story of my beloved auntie Genoveffa who had just died, and how close we were when I was little, and how she taught me how to knit (exhibit number one: I scarf I actually knitted myself, drenched in tears), and how she taught me how to cook (exhibit number two: a little known Italian specialty that consists in getting out anything you might have in the fridge and pouring it over pasta, a tradition of Moving Day and Last-Day-Before-the-Holidays Day and Power-Outage Day), and how she taught me how to dress sexy (exhibit number three: a glimpse of sexy underwear).

Turned out I didn’t need to bother.

So, when something like this happens, first you write for support to someone who ignores you, but you’re not hurt because it is your fault for not having the right communication platform.

Then, you retrieve your old cell-phone, whose battery has the endurance of a cardiopathic mayfly, and use it to call a friend for advice, half in tears.

She did offer to let me crash on her couch and was very helpful, but was strangely positive that the world is NOT out to get me, and I should really start and read my mail. More to the point, I should start reading it NOW, get it out of whatever place I stuffed the post into, and look for evidence of what happened. Duh, how can I read with no light? How can I open my post knowing that there’s sure to be bad news?? How can I believe that the world is not out to get me with such compelling evidence in front of my very eyes??? Really, people have the most outlandish ideas.

Finally, you call the outage service, and have the electrical company guy tell you, without even asking if you have paid your bill, got warnings, if there’s light in the rest of the house, what you had for dinner, that he is going to give you the number of a private electrician. ??? His cousin? I patiently explained to him that I believed that his company had cut me off and I would have liked to know why, and he asked me what company, so I unveiled the name of his employer, and he told me that even if that was the case, it is very complicated to find out. I was all supportive and motivating and assured him that he was a very competent and intelligent young man, and that he could raise to the challenge, and how rewarding it was when he did manage to confirm that his company had cut me off! Well done, Cousin of Private Electrician! He couldn’t explain why they had come to this brilliant idea, but he did give me a number to call in the morning. I’m so proud of him. I am sure that in a few months if he works hard he will be able to find out not only who employs him, and the way to the canteen, but perhaps even how to turn on his computer.
Can’t say the same about myself, unfortunately – well, I know my employer as well as I know myself (the perks of being self-employed), I know my way to the kitchen, and I do know how to turn on my computer – but that’s not going to help me much, since I only have twenty minutes of battery left.But anyway this all happened yesterday and I hope it will be solved tomorrow.

So you know what, I will post this and then just sit in the dark. That’s what depressed people are supposed to do anyway, right?


Yesterday was an eventful day, since I ran into the Blasted Thing. I was sitting with a common friend in a café, and unbeknownst to me the BT texted him and suggested meeting, and our friend simply replied, “Sure, join me”.
So there he was. The man who claimed to never have time for a coffee, caught rather red-handed. I hope he doesn’t think I have orchestrated it! In fact, I would NEVER have done that, since my friends had just greeted me with the words “You look terrible, I am going to buy you a coffee”, which isn’t exactly flattering, and  when I meet the Blasted Thing I want to look my best.
Anyway. There he was.

The conversation naturally turned to his amazing disappearing act. I was really, really, really, indescribably hurt by that.  I was nice, never reproachful, didn’t try anything untoward and all in all I think I managed not to embarrass myself too much in my dealings with him. So I couldn’t understand why he would so steadfastly block me out: I had done NOTHING that could justify it. Why, why, why???
Was it me? Or was it me? Or was it me?

So I gathered my nerve and asked him. I was ready for the worst. Alright, I wasn’t really ready, but I knew that was a possibility. That he would look me in my eyes… with those chocolate eyes… those beautiful kyrgyz eyes of his… ahem, sorry, I digress. Anyway, that he would look at me and say “Look, this isn’t working, and it is better FOR YOU (for me, for me, of course) if we don’t hear from each other again”. I steeled myself. I ironed myself. I even bronzed myself, and waited for the bomb to drop.

And the bomb dropped… and…. it didn’t go off!!

He had a PERFECTLY GOOD REASON why he couldn’t keep in touch. And it had nothing to do with me! Imagine my relief! I could have laughed with joy! So he couldn’t contact me  because…

I don’t have WhatsApp!!!

So that’s it. There we were all this time, silly old me expecting him to reply to my texts, or to my IMs on Skype, or to call me, or to Facebook me, or to e-mail me, or to ring at the door, or to ask our common friends about me… and he all the while frantically waiting for me to add him on What’s App.

It’s like when you are supposed to meet someone at a coffee place, and you get there early and take a table and go to the toilet, and right then your friend arrives, doesn’t see you and gets another table at the other end of the place, and you end up both sitting there without knowing that the other one is around the corner, and thinking that since your friend didn’t call to say that she is late that must mean that she is almost there, but then she doesn’t come, and she doesn’t call, and you wonder if YOU should call, and resolve instead to give her another five minutes… and then one of the two finally calls, and hears the phone of the other ringing, and it’s all laughs and merriment.

OK, so it’s all good now! I just need to get What’s App! But this got me thinking. How many people find themselves in need to come up at short notice with an excuse for not keeping in touch? You never know when something goes horribly wrong and you find yourself face to face with some nice person who has done nothing to you and in fact thinks highly of you and is ready to buy anything you say, so how do you handle such a thorny situation? It is better to be always prepared, so I thought I would compile a helpful list of things to say:

– I know, I have disappeared, and I am so truly, appallingly sorry, but…

… I didn’t pay my internet/my phone bill/my electrical bill and can’t use my appliances

… I did light a signal fire/tried to send smoke signals, but the firemen were there in no time and hosed it all out

…I saw this great recipe and baked all four and twenty of my homing pigeons in a pie. Would you like to have a taste?

…I did buy a whiskey bottle to send a message in it, but you know, first you need to empty it, and whiskey gets better with age, so it would have been a shame to empty it so soon. I was going to contact you in fifty years or so, cross my heart it’s true

…I wrote you a message, and tied it to a balloon, and up and up it went, and then down and down it went, and then it landed in the river, and the water carried it to the sea, and a turtle mistook it for a jellyfish and swallowed it, and the poor thing choked on it, and it was Master Oogway from Kung Fu Panda, and I felt so guilty that I haven’t been the same panda, I mean, man, ever since

…I took a vow of silence. But since it is unpractical in daily life, I am doing it symbolically, towards only one person as a representative of the whole of Mankind. And I chose this person to be you. You should be flattered, really.

…my hovercraft is full of eels

…tlhIngan Hol Dajatlh’a’?



I find myself being waaay too easily hurt, of late.

When someone cancels an appointment, it is like an elephant had mistaken me for a comfy chair. I had been looking forward to it, made preparations, pushed around my work to make space, washed my hair… and nothing. I end up sitting alone in the dark with my hair done, and perfect nails, how pathetic is that??

Of course I don’t complain because rationally I know it shouldn’t be a big deal.

Or, say, the person I’m in love with – not only he never makes time to see me, he doesn’t even want to talk to me. I know, I write to him waaaay too often, on average one or two lines (literally) once a week! He almost never replies, and when he does, he carefully avoids my suggestions for coffee. He only conceded to meet me three times this year, once because I had a present for him, and two times out of the three he brought a friend with him for safety. Right, you never know when I could lose it and jump on him.He never wished me a Merry Christmas, or a Happy New Year, or a Happy Easter – not only that, he didn’t even care enough to reply when I did.

I know, it is unreasonable to be hurt, right? So it must be me. Clearly, I am oversensitive.

Now that I have identified the problem, I can find a solution. Thankfully the Internet is full of advice on how to grow a thick skin, so I did some research and put together the best tips for my own use, and perhaps this might be interesting to some of you, too?:

Moisturise, and always wear a sun screen.

Not sure why. Perhaps to minimise the lines on your face caused by disappointment.

Never acknowledge a rejection.

In other words, become a psycho stalker. I will write long rambling letters every day, addressed to everybody who stands me up and especially to the Blasted Thing. I might neglect the blog a bit, I apologise in advance.

Have a backbone.

OK, I even have several perfectly good bones, so I’m doing very well in that department.

Put one foot in front of the other.

Not sure if this will give me thick skin or blisters?

Stop expecting what other people think of you, whatever that may be.

I will sure start doing that as soon as I understand what’s that supposed to mean. If anything at all.

Let things roll off your back.

Ah, so that’s why the backbone was singled out among all bones. But what “things”, exactly? I hope it’s not hedgehogs suffering from Wobbly Hedgehog Syndrome: they’re already having it hard enough as it is.

Suck it up.

Again, what am I supposed to suck up? OJ? Milk? Alcohol perhaps. Or ugli fruit squash. Now really, how am I supposed to do it if they give you such vague instructions?

Do not put false fingernails on a possum.

Ah, sorry, that was from How To Give a Possum a Pedicure. I guess I clicked on the wrong link because I was distracted by this ad:


(actual ad)

I wonder if she came to such amazing thick skin by making use of the tips above? But I am getting sidetracked, let’s start again. Internet! Tell me all about thick skin!

People can suffer from thick skin at an early age. It can appear immediately after birth and cause severe complications which may possibly lead to death.




Bet you knew that was coming: yes! Bunnies can get depression. And what does depression look like in bunnies? According to the all-knowing Internet, “Just like other mammals, bunnies can too fall into depression. It is a sort of psychiatric disorder, in which one is not interested for anything, and the one blames himself for everything bad that happens.”

I had no idea rabbits can develop a sense of guilt, but you learn something new every day, I guess. But wait! This is really interesting: if their depression is identical to depression in human, and indeed it is a well known fact that bunnies are really short humans with long ears, which justifies using them as lab animals to test such vital products as wrinkle cream, then I could be on the verge of a breakthrough! I just need to check what cures depression in rabbits, apply the method to humans, and cure depression world wide!

Everybody will be happy and I will be even happier because millions of sufferers will come to this blog to read about the cure, and then will come back to tell me how this changed their lives, and will name their pet rabbits after me, and perhaps make me a statue out of carrots.

Now, let’s see, what’s the magical cure for depression in rabbits???





My BFF who said she wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore didn’t just leave me there all alone and friendless: she was so kind as to arrange a contact to a paid surrogate friend, i.e. a therapist who is supposed to be affordable. The idea is, this proves she just didn’t abandon me the first time I had a problem. I wish I had known this was an acceptable solution when SHE was grieving because her long-time boyfriend had left her, or was going in and out of hospitals and I would keep her company or run to the hospital in the middle of the night. I could have just said “I am not interested in playing nurse, but look, here is the number of an affordable nurse, am I not a good friend?”

Anyway – I contacted this BFF asking for more details, got insulted, counted to 12 bazillions in order not to explode, devised an e-mail which was a masterpiece of diplomacy and restraint and asked again, and finally got the number of this therapist, and my BFF said she would call ahead.

I psyched myself all weekend long, and then called this therapist to get a first appointment.

Rrrrrrrrrrrring….. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring…. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrringgg…. riiiiiiiiingggg….


Me: Hello?


Me: Hello?

RFH: Office of Dr. So-and-so, yes?

Me: Yes, hi, my name is AS; I got your number from Ms BFF, she called you last friday. I’m calling to get a first appointment.

RFH: Who??

Me: My name is AS; I got your number from Ms BFF, she called you last friday. I’m calling to get a first appointment.

RFH: Never heard of her. And we don’t accept any new patients.

Me: But this should already have been arranged…

RFH: We aren’t accepting patients.

Me: Oh. But… I will ask again Ms BFF then, because this had already been agreed.

RFH: Yes, inform yourself. Bye.

I hung up and was really put off. Already I’m against the whole idea of being depressed. And I know that this is not going to solve my problem. Plus I had to prostitute myself to get that number, and I was really nervous at the very idea of calling, and… I don’t even get an appointment??

But now, a little later, with a clearer mind, I get it! It was all a test! Even I know that for therapy to work, you must WANT to do it. So they can’t make it too easy for you! It MUST be that! So the Receptionst From Hell was only playing a part!

Either that, or the real receptionst has been knocked out cold and who answered me was really one of the patients?

We’ll see what the future brings me. To you, it brings a joke I stole from the Internet:

Psychiatrist to his nurse: “Just say we’re very busy. Don’t keep saying ‘It’s a madhouse.'”


I have officially become invisible.

I can still see myself, but I have grown invisible to others. I realised it when I tried to contact the Blasted Thing, one of the persons I most care about: some three weeks after the last time we had a brief coffee, I suggested via Skype we could have coffee again. I was met with stony silence. Not even a “Sorry, I don’t have time – Don’t call us, we’ll call you – I’d love to, but right now I am tied to a solitary rock on the slopes of Mount Doom and having my soles tickled by a disgruntled orc, so that would be inconvenient”. Nothing. Would it have made the universe implode, dropping a couple of lines?
So, not to be too hassling, I patiently waited for two more weeks, and then asked, “Speech is silver? 😉 “. Reply: nothing, nada, nichts, rien, niente.

Invisible. How cool is that? So what can I do with my new-found superpower? I know I am supposed to fight crime, but how boring, isn’t every single superhero doing that already? And I’m not very heroic in general, I am more the mischievous type. Plus, frankly, what would I look like, in one of those spandex superhero costumes? Oh, right, I forgot, I would look like nothing – and yet I think I would still manage to be embarrassed.

Anyway, first of all, bye bye, personal grooming, pretty clothes and make up and jewelry! No longer needed. I can eat all the chocolate I want and not care about that pesky zit on the tip of my nose!

Working will no longer be necessary, I guess. I could keep my job and I can think of quite a few new career opportunities, as a magician, entertainer, special effects specialist, or I could haunt castles and palaces and get paid by the touristic promoters, but I’m not sure handling with money is feasible at all, or anyway I will need much less.

I can go and live at Ikea, or just squat anywhere. Luxury hotel. Or big villa with a swimming pool. Might even manage to drive the owners out and get the place all for myself (note to self – get the keys BEFORE you go all poltergeist on them: you might be invisible, but that does not mean you can walk through walls).

For food I can walk into the very best restaurants and taste a bit of everything. I can also sneak into the kitchen and arrange the food on the plates in funny shapes and make the vegetables scream and plead for their life and totally freak the cook and waiters out.

I can go to the cinema, museums, and travel anywhere for free.

I can make my riderless bike the stuff of LEGENDS!

And then there will be the pranks. I will whisper into people’s ears. I will pull their hair. I will pretend I am their good conscience and scold them for all the meanness they dish out on a regular basis.

I will get to the computer of the BT, recall our chat and reply to myself , “Of course, I’d love to do coffee!” and see if this really makes the universe implode.


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