I'm not one to complain, but...

I always swore I would never be a whinger, (for those not acquainted with Aussie/British slang, a 'whinger' -win-j-er - is a person who complains incessantly), but my behaviour of late has brought about the terrifying realisation that I am, indeed, metamorphosing into a member of that very sub-species.  After some introspection, i.e eating chocolate and muttering expletives under my breath, I understood that there was nothing wrong with me - it was the world at large that had the problem.  People like me wouldn't feel the need to complain if there wasn't so VERY much to complain about.  Honestly, if I were to sit here and list all of the irksome, repugnant, truly baffling things about society today, I would suffer the mother of all R.S.I attacks, so I have culled my objections down to a workable top five, along with some remedies I have devised for dealing with the stress associated with them, which will in turn alleviate the need for all that pointless whinging.

PEOPLE WHO DON'T LISTEN  You know the type, they grouse about their self-inflicted injuries for hours on end, turning your eardrums and, consequently your brain, into mince, and when they finally take a breather and you dare to talk about your day for all of three minutes, you get the feeling you're talking into a wind tunnel.  My solution?  Tell your friend that it bothers you.  If their behaviour continues regardless HANG UP THE FUCKING PHONE!

ELECTRONIC RAGE  You've just spent two hours waiting for a three minute You Tube video to load, only to have it freeze at the beginning of your favourite song, locking Lady Ga Ga's face in a permanent expression of horrified ecstasy.  You're mid-way through a zombie marathon when your planet-sized flat screen has a conniption fit, transforming the post-apocalyptic world into a Tetris game.  Your iPod, in an apparent act of divine cyber-intervention, won't accept that Nickel Back album torrent you stole.  My solution?  READ A FUCKING BOOK!!!!!                

REALITY TELEVISION  Big Brother; The Bachelor/ette; Jersey Shore; Big Fat Gypsy Weddings - the plethora of vapid, plastic, manipulative, incomprehensible-without-subtitles drivel that makes up about ninety per-cent of network programming these days is enough to do any person's head in, any person with an IQ above forty anyway; (in the interests of transparency I am compelled to admit that I recently found myself swept up in the awe-inspiring pus harvest that is Big Brother Australia.  My defense for this is that there was at least one contestant this year who was intelligent, kind, and honest - i.e. didn't belong there - needless to say, she didn't win, and I won't be watching again.  Mental crisis over).  This genre raises a lot of questions.  Why work when you can score $250,000 for being an arsehole?  Why are grown women clambering over each other to win the affections of a complete stranger to whom they wouldn't ordinarily give the time of day?  Why - oh why - are inebriated Oompa Loompa's with That Girl hair and Himbos with more weight in their boxer's than their brains given lucrative contracts they can't even read?  I'll tell you why - because about ten years ago, network executives went out on a fact-finding mission and discovered that Chavs/Bogans/insert apt trashy nickname here liked making dicks of themselves and, more importantly, liked watching themselves make dicks of themselves.  Correlate that with the small percentage of them that read and you have a guaranteed formula for ratings success.  My solution?  DON'T FUCKING WATCH!!!! 

UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN  With their laptops, iPads, and multiple video game consoles keeping them entertained for hours on end, kids should reasonably be expected to appreciate the sacrifices mum and/or dad make for them, right?  I mean, when we were kids, we were lucky to have a T.V. in our room, and were overjoyed to walk down the street listening to the same WHAM! album over and over again on our Walkmans, such was the dazzling array of manufactured amusement options available to us.  Sadly, despite the thousands of dollars a year most parents spend to show their kids how much they love them, the adorable little urchins just can't seem to reciprocate, and don't understand why their parents insist on interrupting face-time with, like, conversation and stuff.  Yes, brothers and sisters, it is heartbreaking, and I say this from experience.  My solution?  BE A PARENT AND STOP BUYING THEM SHIT!!!! 

MEAN/BITCHY/SELFISH/DISHONEST/CRUEL PEOPLE  The remorseless behaviour of people is something that has bugged me since childhood, and I have struggled to cope with it until very recently.  My solution to dealing with the soul-sucking, parasitic, oblivious twats of the world?  EITHER DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, OR SHUT THE HELL UP, LEST YOU BECOME ONE OF THEM!!!

     

     

No, just...no.

It is a well-known fact that I loathe reality television - unless it involves cooking because, as I've mentioned previously, I am somewhat of a gastropod.  My aversion to the idea of marriage is just as well-documented, so you can imagine my joy when I saw an ad for a reality show called 'Please Marry My Boy.'  I managed to watch a couple of episodes before the urge to throw a brick at my TV overwhelmed me and I had to change the channel.  The concept of the show bothers me for three reasons, all of which are possibly a reflection of my increasingly cynical view of the world at large, but are compelling nonetheless.

1.  Why does it have to be about marriage?  While I understand that there are still some people who believe in it, is it really advantageous for a guy to start the search for love with the words 'I NEED A WIFE - NOW!' written all over his face in permanent marker?  It's positively Dickensian!

2.  The Cattle Call.  Choosing someone to spend the rest of your life with should not be something you take lightly, and weighing up the pros and cons of this potentially life-altering decision is essential, I get that; but is it really necessary for these guys to make women feel like they're at an audition?  I'll bet questions like 'How many times have you had sex?'  Never came up on Idol.  At least, not while the cameras were rolling.

3.  Who in their right mind lets their mother choose a woman for them?!  You'll pardon my creative use of punctuation there, but I find it both questionable and alarming that any man would relinquish control of his love life to his mother.  Any girl with a 'questionable' past (i.e: any girl who has had sex, hasn't been to church in the last five years or has her own mind) would surely be cut straight away, regardless of any and all great qualities they might possess.  And something the contestants, (which is exactly what these poor women are, let's face it), should consider before deciding to continue pursuing things is how far into these guy's lives does mummy's influence extend?  Picking the reception venue?  Naming the kids?  She's run his life for this long, who's to say that will stop once the vows have been exchanged?  I already have a female authority figure in my life to remind me of the myriad of mistakes I make on a daily basis; the prospect of adding another to the mix would make the idea of growing old with only cats for company irresistibly appealing.