Tuesday, October 25, 2016

She Blew My Mind

A friend once went out with this girl for juuuust too long, around six years perhaps, and whenever she opened her mouth, the words sent tingles down my spine that could make Michael Cera, Michael J. Fox, and any other nice Michaels you know go postal. But I'm not here to speak about how frustrating Frustracey was as an adult and a human being. No. This post merely exists to chronicle the things she said that literally blew my mind. I'm speaking of things she said to me seven years ago that made such an impression on my psyche and the person I've become that I still routinely ponder them in my spare time.

Faux Pas Resulting in Grand Theft Auto
When I worked at this clothing store, Frustracey and her boyfriend whom I actually liked visited me there to say 'hello'. But that's not the real reason she came in, she actually wanted needed to inform me that I was responsible for almost getting his car stolen; that's basically how she worded it. This revelation made me stop folding pyjamas because I knew this shit had to be so good, like just the sweetest, most top shelf, Veblen bullshit that it needed to have my full attention. Allegedly, the night before when he pulled up in front of my home, I got out of the passenger side without locking the door behind me. He then moseyed on home, also got out of the car and did the same as me, only locking the driver's side. Apparently, to her, not only is this a faux pas, but it's also one which can result in grand theft auto and is evidently punishable by bothering me at work.

like the Fbookz

You see, if it's a hot night and I have the car window open, I'll always offer to close it before I hop out, because not all cars have automatic windows and the last thing you want is to realise after hitting the road that you now have to twist and contort your body, trying to fiddle with that window winder with your left hand like it's a bra strap before the lights go green again. I do this with everybody: Friends, relatives, taxi drivers, police officers; it's just manners, I don't discriminate. I, however, had no fucking idea that if I failed to also lock the door and then the driver drove home, went inside without checking if it was locked, and then it wasn't there when he woke up the next morning that it has something to do with me!

Anyway, I threatened to kick them both out of the store and that bitch scurried away. But it doesn't end there with Frustracey; it never does.

She Ruined Pizza With People For Me!
I love a good house thing. I don't care if it's a party, shindig or hootenanny. Whatever the occasion, they're just so easy, just like the food you have at them, because it's finger-food, it's pizza, and it's potato crisps. Those are some of the easiest party foods! Why? Well, let's just look at pizza toppings. They're all just so alike really, I mean, there are only so many things you can do with a pizza, that's why they started putting shit in the crusts; they're out of ideas! The same goes for crisps! Most of the time, it's just different seasoning on the same chip in a different coloured bag! That's why they're good at parties, because majority of people will eat most pizza toppings, they'll eat most chips, and for the remainder who won't, there are gluten-free pizzas and finger food, some of which are without dairy or pork. Someone once said "You can't make everyone happy. You are not a pizza". Well, I mean, this is all what I thought for years until I met Frustracey, because even pizza couldn't make her happy.

With her, it had nothing to do with being celiac or lactose intolerant or a Jew, it just had everything to do with being fucking difficult. In a group of 10 or so, if we ordered about five pizzas between us, the one she wanted was always hers and nobody else's. Likewise, if we went down to the supermarket to grab some snacks, the bag of crisps she chose was for nobody else but herself. Her reason: She's fussy with her food. Yes, exactly! "Food!" I’m fussy too! But you simply cannot be fussy about crisps; you either like them or you don’t! You can have preferences, sure, like a preference for chicken and you won't touch salt and vinegar, but you cant say 'I'll only have chicken, the other 1271 available flavours will make me gag!' It's ludicrous.

So, whenever she was around, we could never just lay everything out on the floor so that everybody gets a bit of everything, like a buffet, she would basically sit on her own. This also meant that if she ordered a deep pan Hawaiian and someone else wanted that too, they couldn't have it unless we ordered two Hawaiians, which kind of just ruins the whole fun of sharing pizza with people; why didn't she just stay at home?

But that's not all she was weird about sharing, she also had a thing about sharing toilets too, which confused me on a deeper, human-level.

She Wouldn’t Put Up With My Shit
So, let me set the scene: It's Christmas time. A bunch of us are chilling in a friend's apartment hitting the whisky pretty hard, including my friend and Frustracey. I asked my friend where the bathroom was because this was the first time I'd been to his place. So, I sit myself down and I drop this thing that was so solid and big that I was worried I might shatter the porcelain, but it was all good, so I flush and I stumble out of there. About half an hour later, Frustracey goes in and immediately leaves making a scene, with my friend doing the boyfriend thing, going to her aid, asking her what's wrong. In front of everyone, she begins chastising me for leaving what I assumed was a motherfucker of a gift in the bowl.

I apologised straight away, explaining that I definitely flushed but failed to realise that the water pressure was weak and that I was a little too drunk to remember to assess the damage following what I assumed was me passing a kidney, but the crazy thing here is that my floater wasn't really her problem. Her problem, her entire lecture in fact, was about why I was doing that at other people's houses, to which I was like "What the fuck are you on about? Do you expect me to go on the lawn outside whenever I'm not home?" This very public discussion went on for a very entertaining ten minutes. She started asking me if I'd taken shits at her place and I was like "Of course, I have!" But I only really said that to stir up shit (metaphorically); I couldn't actually remember. Anyway, she made me feel like a total fucking maverick, going to toilet...in a toilet. Say she had caught me in my mate's mother's bed aggressively banging one out to granny porn, then the way she carried on would've made total sense, but instead I was like "I don't get the big deal here?"

And that really sums my many exchanges with Frustracey into a nutshell, what is the big deal? Again, the things she said to me blew my mind, which was weird because I've always prided myself on being polite where it's due and these are faux pas I had never come across in my 20 years! And still haven't come across again since! But the larger reason my mind was blown was because nobody ever came to my aid in these public showdowns. While I sat there scratching my head, I was the only one ever asking what the big deal was. Come to think of it, nor was anybody ever on the offensive. My friend was always present in these things and her friends were around for a lot of them too, which leads me to wonder if Frustracey had just managed to develop an environment where people had to walk on eggshells around her. Was it just a case of everybody no longer being bothered challenging her bizarre ideas and that I was the only one left who still had the energy? Maybe...or maybe I'm the one in the wrong.

Maybe Frustracey is a person I've always said we need more of in society, someone who isn't willing to put up with shit (both the metaphorical and literal kind) and stay silent about it. Oh, fuck! What if I've been unwittingly leaving turds in homes all over Sydney and nobody was ever game enough to bring it up to me at the risk of getting their hands dirty, and Frustracey just assumed that risk? Seriously, I've always said, we need more social-crusaders like her, cleaning up dinner parties, social gatherings, and private toilets everywhere. So, thanks Frustracey! Keep up the good work and I hope that your new fiancé is proud of your nobility and tenacity in this merciless mission to civilise.

Friday, October 14, 2016

The Dog Ate My Racism

I'm sick and tired of old being an excuse for bigotry, and this isn't a joke, it's a rant. Hearing someone’s age and upbringing justifying racism is like nails on a chalkboard, because it's use should've stopped like the chalkboard. It's what everybody once thought making prejudice acceptable makes my hands feel gross like I've just used a chalkboard. I'm talking about when your grandmother drops the N-bomb and everybody laughs it off because it was okay when she grew up. That's unacceptable, because even if racism was okay in the first place, we've had decades of progress to learn that it isn't anymore. Age and being a disgusting human being aren't somehow synonymous, no matter how much that sort of thinking helps people sleep at night. Few reasons why.


The 'ol faithful age excuse for prejudice is predicated on this notion that it was okay to treat someone like shit because everybody else was doing it at the time. It perpetuates a gang theory that 98 percent of the human race are just livestock with nice cars and fancy phones, and that's grim. That's all I hear when someone says,"well Ryan, that's just how they were brought up". Most prejudices as far as I can see are just a product of one person sniffing the butt of the person in front of them, then that person doing the same to the person in front of them, and so on and so forth; like some sort of voluntary human centipede of morons. If you compare the era and setting I was raised in to the world in which our elders grew up, it sounds like it was just a huge playground where most people bullied this one kid who they all thought was beneath them. Meanwhile, the other fraction of the school who either thought this poor boy was alright or simply didn't have an opinion about him put their hands over their eyes and pretended that dogs didn't exist until they graduated. While admittedly a pervasive school of thought is difficult to rail against, membership of said school and living amongst it's ideologies still doesn't just automatically make that kid beneath everyone, and excusing bigotry from it's alumni in this day and age implies that. To me, not only does it imply that sort of talk is okay now, which I'll get to, but it also sends a message that it was okay in the first place. What it really means, however, is that everybody from that school was either too stupid to think for themselves or too much of a pussy to let everybody know that they weren't part of the zeitgeist; I occasionally struggle to settle on who I'm more mad at.

However, that's just the beginning, because while the prejudice has far depreciated since, the mass-stupidity that let it happen lives on somehow. You see, it's absurd to believe that dogs don't exist just because that's what everybody told you to think, even though one was pissing on your shoe, but it's even more ludicrous to shriek when one walks into the room 40 or 50 years later. That's what your grandmother or whoever is essentially doing when she can't sit a table with lesbians and calls your friend an N-word in 2016. It's what the customer is doing when he automatically thinks you're the manager because you're the only male working that day. That's unacceptable if you consider how well documented and how much of an utter cliché the whole N-word from a white person drama has become in just my 25 years here. Sure, if you've managed to ignore that for this long, then they probably don't make screwdrivers for the screws you need tightening, but it's still the same ignorance as before, isn't it? When we apologise for a person's upbringing and our own inability to change an elderly person's attitude, we miss the point and start sniffing butts again. We just continue the dogs don't exist delusion and take part in the dog ate my homework chain of inaction which allowed prejudice to pervade unfettered in the first place. That chain needs breaking, because I'm tired of the smell.

It's not okay to be bigoted or prejudiced, but we all are in varying degrees. It's innately human to make note of changes and differences. A blonde dude is not a blonde dude until you've seen a brunette chick, the same way that a song which is just one tone for three minutes is not a song, or how a blue car is not a black Harley, or a black US president is not the slew of white presidents which preceded them. For me, my prejudice comes out whenever they send a crew into space, because let's face it, the folks at NASA choose they're crews like they're either ticking boxes in the Handbook for Political Correctness or casting for another horrendous Fantastic Four film. The difference is that we haven't deluded ourselves into a dogs don't exist fairytale universe, and for the majority of those that have know to keep it there next to the cyanide slides which end in an Aryan utopia. It's 2016! So regardless of what we believe, we all should know by now that the only valid excuse for using the N-word for instance is if you're black, a rapper or if you've been in some fucked up Kimmy Schmidt situation where you've missed the last 40 years of pop culture and literature. So, unless your grandparents have been dropping club hits featuring Flo Rida which I'm unaware of, give them a smack over the back of the head with a calendar the next time they say something bigoted, because hopefully it might either knock them out or knock them into being amnesiacs; whichever shuts them up first.