Making Mountains out of Mouthbreathers

Depression has a way of making little things bigger.

And not just in a bad way such as where the smallest thing (like getting out of bed on a Sunday morning and going to church) can leave me bedridden for the day.

Somedays, little thoughts come to me and I suddenly feel that, if I could just catch this little thing, I'd get a bit better. I could decide that it might be leaving my emails until the afternoon, or just eating fruit on a Monday.

2 weeks ago, I was going into the local IGA/Foodworks/Farmer Jacks or whatever it is. I call it the Bogan Emporium, on account of me being the only person in the checkout queue not buying cigarettes.

The tiny thought came into my mind that I am kind of mean to people in my mind and that, if I was just a bit nicer to people, in my mind, then things would get better. Sort of like a bit of mental positive karma.

So I gave it a go. There was the overweight, hairy man in front of me in the queue, holding an esky which he wanted to buy. Instead of my usual thought process (Smelly fat guy with too much alcohol for one esky) I tried to think of positives, and then tried to think of nothing at all because I couldn't think of any.

Then he moved up to the checkout girl. So I tried again ... not overly attractive, looks like a nice person, could do something with her hair ... ok, it wasn't much but I didn't give her my normal label - "mouthbreather".

Quite proud of myself, I was. Until the fat guy began to talk to her.

"All those eskys smell" He said "Even this one smells though not as bad. Can you smell it?". He angled it towards the girl.

"I can't smell anything" she said "I'm a mouthbreather".

I stopped trying after that.

The Opposite of Serendipity

It had to happen sooner or later

Something had to drag me out of my comfortable non-blogness. Things have been busy since the 2Bar holiday ... mainly trying to dodge internal audits at work, keep my job, make sure the End of Year Bonus actually happens and do various battles with denizens of GFoC*.

So I was searching for something else entirely one day this week, and I chanced upon two of the worst songs ever to be recorded. Both, while different, possessed qualities that render them similar, chief of which seems to be taking things way too seriously.

The first seems to be what wigga's find cool these days, ie nothing. Cue gratuitous swearing, autotune, pig costumes and appalling hairstyles.



The only positive I take out of viewing that video is that I know what the answer to the question "Hey Mister 2BarRiff, can my friends and I shoot a music video on your front lawn" will be.

Unless you viewed the next clip, you wouldn't have thought that medieval chicks think skinny like an AIDS patient is sexy (but then again, the Princess thinks Justin Timberlake is cute).



"Love has Enemies" ... so do crappy songs.


That is all, at least until I finish this next report.

*Generic Foreign owned Corporation, which is blessed to have me on the payroll