:: Thursday, March 02, 2006
REALITY NEEDS A MUTE BUTTON
as frequent readers of this bollocks may well be familiar.. I'm a real talkative idiot.. I love to talk shit to everyone and anyone.. I love to talk bullshit on stupid tangents.. to totally random idiots.. and I love that there's all this cool technology I can use to extend me shit too.. landline phonecalls, mobile phone calls, SMS, MMS, voicemail, videocall, MSN Messenger, ICQ, email, blogs, photojournals, myspace, shoutboxes, comment boxes, website forums, faxes, letters, carrier pigeons, smoke signals, morse code, telegrams, horizon signal fires and long distance drumming.. fuckit.. wot'ever we got in our arsenal to talk shit with at all hours of the day.. then I'm all for it.. the more shit I can talk the better..
except for all the moments you wanna talk shit.. people never really pick the right moment to talk shit back to YOU now do they?
and there's no worse time for this shit than when you're on the bus.. you've had a fuck of a day.. a soul destroying day.. you're tired and cranky.. sleep deprived and frayed nerves.. you've hidden yourself all the way to the back of the bus away from everyone else to avoid attention.. staring off into the middle distance with a vacant stare.. you've got your headphones blaring.. your sunglasses on.. doing you're best to tune the fuck out've the world..
any sane person would read those signals.. and politely keep the fuck away..
(just how I like my bus - with no signs of unintelligent life)
but oh NOOOO.. there's always ONE persistent little bastard isn't there? that one dickhead who always fails to pick up on those obvious clues you're sending out to keep the fuck away.. and decides to bother you regardless..
all those chatty senile citizen types fresh from the POKIES.. you can't understand 1/2 a word they're mumbling thru their dentures.. and, to make things even worse.. they can't understand 1/2 a word you're saying thru their hearing aid.. so, you end up trapped in a continual repetition loop of dumb statements of no consequences..
A: "oooo errrr.. ib niiphe wepherrr ibn if?"
A: "IT'S NICE WEATHER ISN'T IT?!"
B: "um.. yeah.."
B: "YEAH.. IT IS NICE WEATHER!"
A: "yeph ib weaally ib niph thif tibe oph yeee"
B: "WHAT!!?? (arrrr fuck this)"
B: "(fuck fuck fuck)"
then you get the drunks.. and sure, this is familiar territory, since I am on occassion a drunk on a LATE NIGHT BUS.. with OTHER drunks.. and then it's hilarious.. the whole damn BUS is a party (no really) but, daylight drunks (also likely from the POKIES) are a fuckin' pain in the arse.. these are the sorta morons who'll go right up to you.. even with headphones and sunglasses on.. and bug you directly.. keeping them amused all the way.. whilst you silently wished you took that set of sharp knives with you this morning..
from here.. you stumble into even worse territory.. the drug crazed / psychotic / just escaped from the asylum / on parole / unstable nutjobs.. and you can't quite tell if they want to be your friend.. or if they want to follow you all the way home.. skin you alive.. wear your skin.. and then eat you with some kinda side serving of beans and a bottle of fine wine..
why they always talk to me when I'm doing my best to be invisible I don't know.. it's like the more pissed off and antisocial you are.. the more it attracts them like moths to a flame.. perhaps they can develop some kinda bug spray for 'em..?
and then when you get home, you get the other serial pest.. people who insist on ringing me ONLY when I'm in the middle of my favourite TV shows (which I can't tape coz my VCR's broken) who then proceed to talk my ear off for another 1/2 an hour, just coz they "feel like talking".. fuck that shit's me.. of course.. if it's your friends you can usually get them to bug you at a different hour.. coz friends are cool like that (and if they're really smart they just bomb you in the advert breaks).. but just you try and get rid of that arsehole indian telemarketer in a hurry (again employing the "I CANT UNDERSTAND YOU / YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND ME" smokescreen tactic as favoured by the elderly on buses).. and you'll understand the true meaning of rage..
and then you have that more specific rare pest that only I seem to attract when I do the odd live electronica gig out on the town.. these pillmuncher morons who insist on coming up to the front of the stage to start a conversation with me whilst I'm in the middle of trying to mix something complex in 2 laptop PC's.. talking shit to me for hours on end about all the DJ's they know, and how it used to be sooo much cooler in the good 'ol days..
"OLDSKOOOL MAAAATE!! OLDSKOOOL! HAPPY HARDCORE!! FUCKING HAAARDCORE MAAAATE!!"
you see 'em pointing at my equipment and asking me dumb questions like "wot does THAT do!?" asking me if I know DJ wot'isface.. like seriously.. ENOUGH ALREADY! you don't see me talking to guitarists, bass players or drummers in the middle of their gigs do ya? no? then SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET BACK TO THE DANCEFLOOR YA FUK!!!
yeah.. as much as I'm a social freak..
with idiots like these.. silence is freakin' golden..
:: Spoz 12:51 AM |