Snippy snippy

As I'm sure you would have noticed, I hate everything.

One thing I hate more than most, is haircuts.

I got one today which, as usual, resulted in me looking like Elton John.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (and farewell good looks)

The hairdressers always attempt to give me a homosexual style; sweeping over the fringe, and gellin' up the back.

It doesn't suit me at all, but I guess it looks okay.

The factor not taken into consideration by the hairdresser, is that I'ma lazy turd.

Never am I going to product up my hair.

Never am I going to touch my hair.

So, this odd style sits flat on my oddly shaped head.

Now, rather than being Elton John's lovechild;

I look like Boris Karloff's incarnation of Frankenstein's monster.

Sitting in that chair, under the gay little apron (henceforth known as a gaypron), with my hair wet and combed over, I feel vulnerable.

If I were to be attacked by a minion of my nemesis, how would I be able to counter-attack?

That chair.

Its emasculating.

Like rather than cutting my hair they are cutting, well you know…

And the hairdressers can sense this.

Like a dog, hairdressers can smell fear.

So, they feel it necessary to spray a little water into my eyes, or blow-dry the crap out of my face.

The cruel, heartless twats.

I don't like talking to hairdressers and yet, for some reason, they want to know every detail of my personal life.

What school do you go to?

How old are you?

Doing anything rad today?

All of the above can be answered with two words.

Piss off.

Competitive wankers.

Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realise how talented you were.

NRL, AFL, Soccer and every other competitive sport possible, you play in.

Oh you don't?

Then why is it every bloody monday I have to put up with you telling us all about how your team won.

'Say, how'd the Bombers go on the weekend?'

"Mate… We bloody well won!"

'Struth, mate!'

Wankers.

That yellow bastard.

Film is a delicate piece of material.

When in possession of film you must follow three simple rules:

1. Film is not to bent

2. Film is not to be stored within certain temperate regions; and

3. Film is not to be exposed to sunlight.

Three simple rules; and yet for some bizarre reason people must be failing these?

That's the only way I can explain the growing trend of yellow photography being uploaded to facebook.

It can't be because people think it looks good, for it doesn't.

It's not polaroid, well it might have been originally, but its been changed.

People who take digital shots must be storing their photos in really well-lit folders.

Three simple rules.

And you broke them.

So, you get nothing.

You lose.

Good day Sir.

I SAID GOOD DAY

;)

"[…]The winking face is the mark of a moron"

(Bird 2008, The Inbetweeners)

Heads down. Thumbs up.

I hate walking.

More so, I hate walking past people.

When a person approaches you head on you have two choices.

1. Smile, and acknowledge by saying, "muhm"

or

2. Find something more interesting to look at and stare at that.

This may include a mobile telephone; or more commonly, feet. I have a suspicion that random passer-bys think I must have an autoerotic foot fetish, for my feet are a loved Point of Interest to stare at.

Poor Marty Feldman only had option 1 available.

I prefer walking towards someone head on, then from behind.

I find that I walk slowly, yet as soon as there is someone in front of me I feel the need to speed up.

And yet, I cannot.

If I choose to overtake, I look and feel like a massive wanker.

Olympic Speed Walker Style: Engaged.

colon, close brackets.

MSN has killed grammar.

Just look at this blog for God's sake.

Grotesque, disjunct sentences.

Improper use of capital letters in titles.

And even starting sentences with 'and'.

How dare me.

MSN speak, if necessary, should be limited to the internet.

You sound like a twat saying 'LOL', 'ROFL' and 'Smiley-face'.

I caught myself doing it the other day.

Upon realisation, I confined myself to 'the machine' from the Princess Bride (Best. Movie. Ever.) for several days.

I even went so far as to turn it up to 5

to finally find what it does to a man.

People over the age of 30 shouldn't be allowed on social networking services such as MSN and facebook.

For some reason, passing your twenties means that rather than just adding a comment you add an essay.

Instead of one question mark, you put twenty.

Returns can be replaced by '……………..'

And rather than the standard emoticons, such as :) and :P you feel the need to add a nose.

Only add a nose if you wish for :-| to symbolise Roman Polanski.