Hi guys,
Today, I'm starting a whole new series. I'll be adding up as I go along and meet gems. So I guess that the quantity that I will add depends on the progression rate of humankind. By 'progression' I really meant 'regression', and if you ask me, a good few people would agree with me. Let's cross out 'good', right?
What Really Irritates Me In Men, Women and Poodles, and Other Sartorial Considerations Very Late at Night
I have always been dumbfounded by the
very short-term memory of men who dry their hands after making pee-pee – that
is, they have completely forgotten to wash their hands in the first
place, as if toilets were the cleanest places in our modern world.
We really fail to recognise the
gen(i)us of the homo automobilis who not only swerves onto the
same lane of an incoming pedestrian, but accelerates.
Surpassing him in
stupidity might undeniably be the pre-pubescent brat or the
pre-adolescent pimple-ish jejune fille who is wearing outrageous
make-up that would deter even the most ruttish mandrill baboon and
who unashamedly allows her phone to play that latest Lady Gaga
ringtone full blast in a cinema and then picks up the phone to resume
the savvy narration of the latest piece of gossip her friend could
lay her hand on.
Another palatable
delicacy is served by the mosquito who basely awaits the cover of
night to lash out at any patch of skin we might have foolishly left
uncovered. Which triggers the question: “What could be more
nerve-racking than a mosquito hovering an inch above your ear?” To
which I would answer: “It would be knowing that there is a mosquito
hovering an inch above your ear but no longer hearing it buzz” – which
means either landing on the said patch of skin (I defy anyone to deny
having then slapped his or her face with forceful rage) or the desertion because of the
absence of said patch of skin. The incommoding itchiness and rash one
commonly experiences a few minutes later sadly points out to the former.
People who light a
cigarette right under a “No Smoking” sign make me go bananas.
They cannot only read, they also cannot feign casualness
convincingly. The rogues smirk. I could shove the aforementioned cigarette up their nostril.
If someone could
come up with a simple, one-step guide on how to walk in a crowd, I
would do whatever is in my power to have him or her canonised. People
usually roam the malls just like they visit a museum: mildly
interested as they are by the exhibits, they might approach the
caption in a genuine effort to know what's going on inside that frame
but lo! they suddenly step back, abruptly change direction or stop
and stare in every direction like a chicken that has just found a
knife, clearly disorientated by the amount of reading the naive curator
expects them to do. Needless to say that they usually disrupt the flow
of the perambulation, i.e. bump into you and give you the same look
as a rabbit caught in the headlights' glare. They usually reassure
themselves by rushing off to the nearest highlight available, i.e.
the grand opening sale at the new Gap outlet.
People who pass in
front of everyone in a queue because they are “busy” should be
kindly reminded that apes and chimpanzees – as have many species,
but I picked apes and chimps as they will prove my point in a more
efficacious way as they are deemed “stupid” and “irrelevant”
by those same people – have a millennial sense of order and an
innate discipline.
So-called uptown
girls carrying a handbag the size of a two-week-holiday suitcase
would only look ridiculous were it not for their high, infuriating
propensity at giggling, gloating and making loud borborygmi while
sipping the last dregs of a Mocha Frappuccino with their straw at a
Starbucks terrace.
Poodles have been
used as gun-dogs for hundreds of years – may I ask where did man go
wrong, as nowadays most poodles seem to have lost both their survival
instinct entirely, along with their self-esteem? Could it be because
their loins are clipped bare and clad in briefs, that their paws are
shod with genuine leather shoes? Where are now the barking packs of poodles
roaming the Wild?
Men picking their
nose whilst they think no one is looking is another feature that
would have me climb up the curtains. They would indeed be excused,
thinking they were going about their business unnoticed, only if the
said business were taking less than five minutes, if they weren't so
carefully and conscientiously inspecting their findings, i.e. the
sticky content of their nasal cavities and if they did not try to
discard the said sticky content in some conspicuous location near us.
Rarely are those three conditions unfulfilled.
The pigeons,
usually the club-footed, the one-legged, the bandy-legged, the
one-eyed and the just-been-hit-by-a-bus specimens, which flock at
strategic locations to wilfully – I maintain it and I'm ready to
prove my point to anyone in situ – shell whatever is
under them may receive the palm of the species bearing the closest
resemblance to some human beings, minus the survival instinct, much
alike that of the aforementioned poodle. I. Hate. Pigeons.
