20 April, 2011

Vibe II - The Douchening


Before we begin, my darling ones, it has come to my attention that Dead Fish Float has made it around my office. Which is, well, awkward to say the very least.  So, er, hi fellas! Are you enjoying trawling through my personal life? Giving you a vicarious thrill is it?  I'm sure.  If you are in my workplace reading this, you should probably stop now.  You might read something you don't like.

Back to topic.  So the fucktard’s been at it again.  I’m at a loss as to know what to do short of pulling out a gun and shooting him in the head.  Except instead of a bullet, a little flag would come out that said “Dickwad!”.

Anyway, there’s been a couple more incidents.  It's hard to believe, that in 2011, a girl is still dealing with this kind of douchery. One could be forgiven for thinking one's been transported back to 1972 and landed in Carry On Matron.

The other week, I was in a meeting (of all men).  And talking about a website, I said “we can always tweak it later” and made a gesture of turning two dials (I gesticulate wildly.  I’m afraid my hands have a life of their own.   I once gave a friend a bloody nose trying to explain what the white bean bruschetta was like in Florence, and have knocked more than one glass of red into my lap). His Lordship piped up with “you know, when you do that DFF, I can’t think about websites.”  Gentlemen, please restrain the guffaw.

Today’s quote, which rang out across the office, and made my blood boil like a hot pot of milk was this:  “We all know that sexual harassment only exists in the mind of the harassee.”  To which a manager agreed*, much to my horror.

Now what this idiot is saying is code for this: “There’s no such thing as sexual harassment, just people  who are too sensitive or imagining it all.”  To which I say “Bollocks!” with gusto.  Anyway, I shot of a rather fruity email to the aforementioned Manager explaining that those sorts of comments just aren't cool.

Hard to believe, but after this had all happened, we were talking about a design.  The conversation went like this: 

DFF: Let’s do it, and see if it looks like a clusterfuck when it’s on the site.
Dipshit: what exactly is a clusterfuck? (As if he didn't know.  Pssh.)
DFF:  It’s a multitude of fuckups.
Dipshit: Oh, so it’s not a, you know, group…engagement.
DFF:  No it fucking isn’t.  (gives withering glance)


"Hey baby, lighten up.  I'm kidding!"
Yeah.  Right.

The problem with all this stuff is that it's just innuendo.  So if I come out and say "shut your filthy cake-hole you fucktard" (or more probably "That's really inappropriate, and you'd do well to keep those sorts of comments to yourself") he's going to pull the usual MO - which is to say "lighten up, god, I'm only joking", like it's somehow my fault that his entendre-laden comments are offensive.  I know his type.  I've come across them on more than one occasion, and believe you me, the buck stops right here. 

Updates will be posted on Facebook as they occur - so you might want to mosy your mouse on over to the right there and click the "like" button.

Let's get serious for a minute.  Ladies, this sort of thing happens all the time, in spite of training from zealous HR staff and constant reminders in the media.  I want to encourage you all to stand up for yourselves.  You don't have to put up with boorish behaviour, nor should you.  It's not always the easy thing to do, but it is the right thing to do.  Let's look after each other, ey?  In fact, after a chat with a girlfriend at work today, I went through his emails to me, and some of them are very inappropriate indeed.  So I'm in the quandry of whether I should raise them or not.  I'm erring on the yes side of the debate. Not for my sake, but for all those girls in the office who could benefit. Your thoughts would be appreciated in the comments section below.  Have you ever experienced this sort of thing?

* I later had a little chat with the manager, and I’m pleased to report that he was mortified, and that I had, actually, misunderstood his agreement.  He was trying to impress upon this fellow that people do take things the wrong way and he should shut his fucking dirty mouth.  Although, he didn’t include the adjectives at the end of that last sentence.  Anyway, the long and short of it is that Fucktard’s getting a talking to about his appalling attitude to women.  So that’s a good outcome, I suppose.

14 April, 2011

Dating tips for the ladies

So recently, I was perusing the web looking to see if there was any competition around. I’m like that. Deeply competitive. Anyway, I stumbled across this list of dating tips for girls.

In my opinion it should be titled “How to be a whiny fuckin' princess”. I seriously cannot believe the utter bollocks I stumbled across. You can find the whole list here, but for your delectation, here’s some highlights.


Dating Tips

Never reveal information you don't have to. An enigmatic woman drives men wild.
  • You know, it’s not good to blab every single fucking detail of your life, but not because it makes you enigmatic. Mostly, it’s because blabbing makes you boring (see The Man’s Man).
Let your man pay. If he is interested, he is interested enough to ensure you eat well and get home safely in a cab.
  • Okay, but what if he’s not interested? What if you earn more money than he does? What if having him pay means he’s going to expect you to put out at the end of the night? This happens. It happens A Lot.  
Ensure you receive flowers. If he doesn't know what a florist is, dump him.
  • What the fuck? You’re not going to shag him, you don’t even know him, but he’s supposed to pony up for some fucking flowers? Look, flowers are nice, but I’d be terribly uncomfortable about a bloke who turned up with a bunch of tulips, especially if they also had a teddy bear attached or a balloon that says “I wuv you” (ugh.  See Chemistry Lesson for that story) or some other inane bollocks.
Never ever sleep with a guy until he has fallen for you. Sex early in your dating game plan will ruin everything.
  • Oh, I get it. Sex is a commodity that you should trade for attention. I ask you fellas, do you really think less of a woman because she enjoys a good romp? Fuck that, if I’m on a date with a hottie, I’m getting my heels to Jesus as soon as he’ll have me.
Always keep a guy waiting and never turn up early. It is a lady's perogative (sic).
  • Now that’s just rude. I always turn up exactly on time. It shows integrity. Keeping a guy waiting is just poor form. Besides, if you can’t spell prerogative, you don’t have one.

Never be available when he wants you to be. Never be at the end of a phone when he calls and always let him leave a message or two first before replying.
  • What is WRONG with these people? Don’t answer the phone? Don’t call back? If I was a bloke I’d tell them to just fuck off. Actually, I found a study recently that said that men don’t like women to play hard to get. They like to them to play hard to get to every other man. Makes sense when you think about it.

If he is available Tuesday, you are available Thursday.
  • Really. Lady, you are so not getting laid.
Keep your man standing on quicksand by shifting landmarks and goalposts constantly.
  • Because that’s what we girls need. A reputation for being difficult, impossible to please, uptight, unavailable and not clear on what we want.
Ensure you are a good kisser. Men will walk away if you cannot kiss. Practice on a mirror if you have to.
  • Practice on a mirror. Har! Why not practice on your date? Much better idea. That’s what boys are for!  But the mirror’s not going to give you any constructive feedback. And they’re a bitch to clean.
If the guy in the corner is gorgeous, go get him and create the need in him for you. Never wait for men to come to you because you may watch him leave with someone else.
    
  • Oh, so now you’re supposed to vamp it up with the hot guy. But if he calls you, don’t answer. If he wants to see you on Tuesday, don’t be available. I love the “create the need in him for you.” Actually, most fellas I’ve met already have the need.   I like to call it “the little brain”. It takes care of that.


When good dates go bad.




Online Dating Rules


Post the best and most vampish photo you can find.
  • That way, you’ll look like a slut, even if you expect flowers and don’t put out.
Always reply to emails at least 3 days after receipt.
  • Clearly the internet equivalent of the phone call rule above. Doesn’t work.

Never provide your real email or phone details.
  • Because it’s always better to lie about stuff. Especially later on when you have to confess that you lied about stuff.

Make sure your login name is stunning and sexy, as well as enigmatic.
  • Like what? Furry-fancier? 
Do not assume the person you are talking to is destitute or sad.
  • Just because you are, doesn’t mean they are.

Never ever reply to emails on weekends. Wait until a weekday.
  • That way, you can pretend you’re popular and busy, when in reality you spent the weekend sitting around with your cats, crying, eating tub after tub of Sarah Lee extra-chocolate-chunk o’ misery ice cream with lonely caramel fat sauce, watching Eat Pray Love over and over again.
Never state how good your sexual performance is in your profile.
  • Especially if you have to practice kissing in the mirror.
Do not chat to hundreds of men at once. The delay in replying is a dead giveaway and your Mr. Right will be off.
  • First you’re not to reply, now you have to jump to it. Oh, I get it, this is “goal post changing”.
So there you have it ladies. How to stay single for the rest of your life and be an unlikable wankress at the same time.

 

06 April, 2011

Chemistry Lesson

I'm kinda sciency.  You know, I like reading science magazines. Especially about brain science.  So recently, I thought, "what is it that makes us fall in love.  Perhaps I'm missing it". Well, obviously, the first thing you need is a someone you're attracted to.  Which is clearly one part I'm missing.  But love's quite a journey once you find the right road.  Here's what I found out.

Firstly, let's not call it love.  Let's call it by it's proper name.  Pair bonding.


Stage 1: Dopamine = Lust

Dopamine makes you feel goooood.  Loved up, sexy as hell and ready for a romp.  When you find someone you want to shag, dopamine goes off like a frog in a sock, zapping pleasure signals around your synapses. It's a natural cocaine high.  That's actually true.  Because a line of coke will stop your brain from being able to turn off the dopamine, so you get a feeling of delicious pleasure for hours (the downside is, of course, that eventually, the dopamine breaks down.  So the more coke you snort, the more you need. Eventually, you can't experience pleasure of any sort. Also, it's very expensive).

Advertising executives have long employed cocaine
to simulate joy in their empty, wasted lives.

Anyway, dopamine is the chemical of lust.  That instant attraction that people claim to feel - it's just dopamine zooming around, doing dirty stuff to their nethers. Dopamine is what happened to Mike Yanagita.  Also the tight-arse movie-buff.  Unfortunately for them both, it didn't happen to me.

Stage 2:  Norepinephrine = Infatuation

If dopamine is the drug of lust, then norepinephrine is the drug of infatuation, and it follows close on the heels of its buddy.  It makes your heart pound, and it focuses you on that hot bloke on the other side of the bar.  The one with the bedroom eyes and the rippling biceps.  Unless you're me.  In which case the guy on the other side of the bar has bedroom hair and rippling stomach fat. 

Norepinephrine makes your hands sweat, your blood pressure rise and is pretty closely related to adrenaline. It's the one that causes that surging, delightful feeling you get in your stomach when you see your crush arrive at the party.  It's a rush.  And it's focused on the object of your desire.  If you're a douchebag, that's probably me.


If he wasn't dating her, he'd be having a crack at me. 
Norepinephrine will do that.

 Stage 3: Oxytocin = Calling each other stupid names

Right, so this bad boy is given the nauseating nickname "The Cuddle Hormone".  Personally, I reckon that's right up there with fucking care bears, but you know, I don't make this shit up.  Here's what the scientists say about it: "The hormone facilitates nest building and pup retrieval in rats...and the formation of adult pair-bonds in prairie voles*. In humans, oxytocin stimulates milk ejection during lactation, uterine contraction during birth, and is released during sexual orgasm in both men and women." 

Yep, oxytocin goes ballistic when you blow one off.  Apparently, the more often you get laid, the more you'll like the person you're shagging.  That's oxytocin's fault.  It tricks you into thinking the person you're banging is attractive and makes you want to keep banging them.  In short, it keeps you together when the dopamine rush wears off. 


Prairie voles hot for each other.  It's the oxytocin you fools.

And another thing

It turns out that pair bonding makes you crazy.  Legitimately, certifiably crazy.  Dr Donatella Marazziti, a psychiatrist at the University of Pisa conducted a study and analysed blood samples of couples in love.  She found that their seratonin** levels were low.  Really low.  As low as people suffering obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Which explains a lot really.  All that mooning about, thinking about the object of your affection.  Doing genuinely stupid stuff like texting them forty times a day and using appalling names like "Schnookems" and "Boopie".  Ugh. 

Actually, that reminds me of a time where I sort of dated a guy (for less than a week) when I was in my early twenties.  This fucktard slipped a note on my tray (I was a drink waitress), that said "I wuv you from your hush puppy xoxox."  Made a little bit of vomit rise up the back of my throat.  Naturally, I had to dump him after that.  Disgusting.


Don't call me Schmoopie, dickwad.

How to pair bond.

So I stumbled across this sage advice.  It comes from a study conducted in New York, by psychologist and professor Dr Arthur Arun, who investigated how people fall in love.  Here's what you do.
Firstly, find a complete stranger.  Preferably one that gets your dopamine on.
Next, share something personal with them. Some intimate detail of your life (although resist the urge to tell them about that irritating itchy rash on your anus.  Yes, it's intimate, but no-one wants to know about that).  Let them share a bit.  Keep this up for around half an hour.

Finally, stare longingly into their eyes for four minutes without talking.  Presto!  You're in love.
According to the good Professor, most of his test subjects felt deeply attracted to each other at the end of the study.  Two of the couples ended up getting hitched.  So you know, give it a crack.  But not with me, okay?  I don't want to hear your whiny bullshit about your childhood and how you secretly like to watch German porn dressed as a giant prawn.

*Turns out prairie voles indulge in way more sex than they need to propagate.  They're at it all the time, the little darlings.  They also form long term relationships.  So technically, they're more evolved than I am. Also, they're getting more action.

**For the uninitiated, seratonin controls appetite, sleep, mood, and muscle contraction. It's also got its fingers in memory and learning. It's kinda bad-ass.