A Sole Mate Is...

Just chill out- I'm not illiterate. I know it's spelt Soulmate. It's a pun. Because your best friends are really the only friends you need? Your sole mates? You know what, I don't need this from you. Go read another blog- my reader count has already gone up by you stumbling on my page so yeah, jog on random Korean reader. Only joking.

Please love me.

There are a number of ways of knowing you have met 'the one'. I don't mean the romantic 'one'. For those hoping for love advice, here's a tip- dress up, be confident, and go jump off a cliff because you're will never find anyone. Now that we've cleared that up, I shall move on.

I will attempt to condense about 10 years of wisdom into a few key points:

1) Unsubtle coding

You will have created your own little language and most certainly will have given people code names. This isn't bitchy, this is life. 

I remember having in depth conversations in front of other curious (I'm really flattering myself here because no one really cared about my MSN romances) listeners about whether Cheesecake had sent me the infamous ':p' face or the controversial ';)' face (which no one would ever send unless they intended on drugging you and stealing your organs). It might have been more subtle to give him a plausible code name, like 'Barry'- scrap that no one is ever really called Barry. 'John' maybe. But our irrepressible love for cake, the only thing succeeding our love for each other, manifested itself in the form of a really obtrusive nickname which pretty much defeated the purpose.

Secondly, you have a word, a whole complex Saussurean system of linguistics set in place for the moment you want to say, 'there's a hot guy standing precisely 4.23 metres away from you, southeastwards'.

2) You have discussed your future

If by some miracle, one of you finds someone and gets married, you are by default the maid of honour. However, if this plan is ignored, you have every right to kill your best friend the same way they killed your dreams of ever walking down an aisle. 

When your dreams of being rich are dashed because you don't understand economics, nor do you have the discipline or patience to study law, you will live in the shed of your wealthiest best friend with your several dogs. If her husband is not okay with this, you are obligated to contribute to 13% of the divorce fees.

Yeezus Christ...

I've been waiting for inspiration to hit me for a while. The cause for my blog brain block could perhaps be related to the fact that I've confined myself to my house in a state of gap year lethargy. It could also be the fault of my friends who have offered interesting subject contributions. Such as 'potatoes'. So, you can imagine how pleased I was when I turned on the radio and heard a song which fuelled my burning anger for the ass hole, more formally known as Kanye West.

I don't care about the fact that he so gracelessly pissed on Taylor Swift's bonfire. Sure, that was incredibly unsubtle of him, but I'm glad someone knocked her off her self-constructed pedestal and she finally had a reason to cry tear drops on her guitar and churn out yet another 'your loss. I'm a catch. Please love me' song.

I could easily forgive the stupid name he bestowed upon his child. If anyone should be reacting negatively towards that it should be child services. The nub of the matter is this: I seriously doubt that when North is grown up, she'll be ridiculed by the kids on the playground for her awful name. The fact that she is the child of Kim Kardashian will surely provide them with more than enough ammunition. However, I do hate how he tries to justify the name by stating that North is not a direction, but it is symbolic of the 'highest point'. Yes, North is the highest point and with any other surname, the name would be less of an atrocity. But surely all symbolism is made void by the fact that her name is now North West, which to me symbolises the slow but inevitable deviation from the 'highest point'. Manchester City Council welcomed the news.

I can even look past his megalomania. If the album title and self-appointed nickname 'Yeezus', featuring the song 'I am God' wasn't a give away, his Rolling Stones photo-shoot in which he posed with a crown of thorns accurately portrayed his messiah complex. What makes that magazine cover bearable is the fact that his face in the same space as the heading 'James Blunt'. To be honest, I kind of felt sorry for Kanye.

As you see, I am not a completely unforgiving person.

However, what I find completely inexcusable is his execrable knowledge of history. If you're going to write a song, make sure that your lyrics are factually correct. Especially if the lyrics are in your CHORUS. In his latest song, 'Black Skinheads', Kanye West claims 'to keep it 300, like the Romans', over, and over, and over again. If you're wondering what that sound in the distance is, it's the despairing cries of Leonidas somersaulting in his grave. Gerard Butler didn't shout 'THIS IS SPARTA' just to enhance our cinematic experience. I don't expect him to be a classicist and know the battle of Thermopylae backwards, but I equally did not expect him to be a complete moron.

I'm pretty sure Jesus wouldn't make a mistake like that, Kanye. Out of all the plausible factors involved in hating Kanye West, these disastrous lyrics have provided me with indisputable evidence that he is an awful human being who should go jump off his tower sized ego and drown in a pit of historical inaccuracy. 

Travel Notes...

It's difficult to write about your experiences when travelling abroad without sounding supercilious and making gross generalisations (that's just a euphemism for being a bit racist). Contrary to what most 'Gap Yah' students say, spending 3 weeks backpacking in a country does not make you a native, nor does it make you Marco Polo- although, I'm pretty sure I discovered some uncharted territories in Chinese public toilets. That brings me to my first observation; hygiene.

By starting off with hygiene, I'm worried that I'm painting quite a negative picture of one of the world's oldest cultures. Don't get me wrong, I spent some of the best weeks of my life in China, but that doesn't mean that I would eat off the ground. There are few things in this world which I find truly vulgar; Tracy Emin's artwork, really low v-necks on men and people who spit. Now that JLS have split up, the second one isn't much of a problem any more. However, there was so much spitting in China that it was only a matter of time before someone missed the floor and spat on me. I embraced it, as every experienced traveller should, with a frenzied meltdown where I repeatedly screamed HEPATITIS at the man who spat on me. Looking back at my search history, I realise that I may have been a bit irrational with regard to some aspects of hygiene. I'm pretty sure that I was at my worst when I googled 'Can bed bugs kill?' and 'Symptoms of Cholera'. 

When travelling with a large group of people, it is important to be yourself at all times. Not because of what Disney and Julie Andrews taught me, but because they will see you at your worst so there is no point trying to fool anyone into thinking that you're not a charisma black hole. It is also important to note that being in such close quarters with a small group of people, you will eventually have the constant urge to punch someone in the face. In my case, it was a 75 year old woman. Okay, before you go about judging me for hating on an old lady, dispel the image of a backpacking Betty White from your mind and replace it with someone much less endearing. Like a 75 year old love child of Tom Cruise and Lindsay Lohan (in 10 years time when she looks like Peter Griffin and you don't feel bad about making fun of her because you've forgotten that she was cute in the Parent Trap). Regardless of who it is, it is important to not let the rage get to you because it builds up. First, you subconsciously roll your eyes at everything they say and BAM you're up in the middle of the night standing over their body.

Another thing to consider when travelling is the language barrier. I try not to be that person who gets frustrated when people cannot speak English. We should be accepting a culture in its entirety and attempting to speak their language. However, that was before I made a complete arse of myself when searching for the 'Lama Temple' in Beijing. Now that I think about it, it was probably ignorant of me to think that the Chinese once worshipped llamas. But nonetheless, when hopelessly lost, I asked for directions by using my arms and leg to act out a llama. The temple gesture was easy enough. Obviously, no one knew what the seizuring Westerner was on about and to add to my humiliation at getting lost, I had a crowd of Chinese people laughing at me. 

Basically, I made Bill Bryson look like George Clooney.

Most Hated Part 1...

I know what it sounds like. I am not a misanthrope. I don't hate people but it appears that people hate me. It's either that or people do things without realising how annoying they are- I prefer the former explanation as spite is better than the painful truth that humans are completely oblivious to their annoying habits.

I hate it when people cry in front of me, I ask them what is wrong and they weave something vague about how terrible their life is into knowingly unconvincing 'nothing is wrong' statements. Then I ask them to specify, and they say the three most insincere words in the English dictionary; I am fine. Oh, are your eyes just weeing? Are they just leaking acid burns into my conscience? I am not going to try and dig into your soul and play hide and seek with your problems, either allow me to help you or I need you and your tears to exit my presence.

I hate it when people hash tag unnecessarily. For every hash tag you use on Facebook, I will tattoo it onto your face. A more aggressive sequel to The Scarlet Letter. How very rebellious of you to blur the boundaries between two social networking sites. Maybe you can get Tom Hardy to play you in the film. It's not only Facebook where tagging is completely unnecessary, but Instagram. A picture of a leaf is then captioned by every single word in the English Language.

I hate Ellie Goulding.

I hate it when people use stupid phrases. 'What's done is done.' Oh, is that how it works? Because I had the distinct impression that 'The Power of Love' was about to come on with Marty McFly and the Doc beckoning me to drive off in a DeLorean. To all those people who missed that reference, you are the worst kind of human being and you top my most hated list. Not just little sayings like that, but also dbag pop phrases like this; 'I want to join the mile high club'. This particular saying has caused me quite a bit of humiliation recently. When a co-worker said this to me, I told them to go online and fill out a form. I have since learned that the 'mile high club' is not an Air-miles initiative and that you most definitely cannot fill out a form.

I hate people who do something once and are suddenly experts. You went camping once, that doesn't make you Bear Grylls. Squeeze camel crap into your mouth and then we'll talk. Related to this are people who say pretentious faeces after going abroad. 'Oh, when I was in Italy they cooked pasta in the proper way. And by the way, it's pronounced parmejannnoooooo, not parmesan'. Sorry didn't mean to be a pleb. What's Italian for my foot up your ass?

I hate people who use their hands free when their hands are actually free. If you're walking around in public, holding your phone in front of your mouth whilst you have your headphones in, I bid you a fate worse than death. I hope your headphones get stuck in your ears and Cher's Greatest Hits play through them on loop forever.

This is how I feel.

Internet Crazes...

If you look about a year down the road, you'll see a bandwagon with the picture of evil Ugandan Warlord, Kony driving off. The 30 minute long video went viral in a day. Pretty sure that 99% of people who shared the video with vague captions like 'Stop the monstrosity' and 'Spread the word' thought that Kony was an island. 'Hey everyone, look at how sensitive and politically aware I am sharing this gimmicky video! Glad I've done my part for human rights.' I'm not saying go and become a missionary, but it is important to know more about human rights than the fact that the guy in the Kony video had a bizarre, naked breakdown in the street.

This year, there are memes everywhere, and most of them are alright, apart from the odd one which makes no sense like;

But as soon as I saw the Obama memes, I wanted to eat a puppy. The more I saw, the stupider they got. I'm a big fan of freedom of speech, but when I see some of the things America churns out on the web, I'm prepared to make exceptions to my moral laws. There's human rights, and there's human wrongs.
'I don't have any money, thanks Obama'.
I've got period pains, thanks Obama. Last year you were 50, now you say you're 51, WHICH ONE IS IT OBAMA?

The 2013 phenomenon; The Harlem Shake. Half a minute of these viral videos and I'm completely confused. Not just about what the hell is going on with the convulsions and the shaking, but it has me assessing the meaning of life. What is happening to the world? Students in Tunisia have used it as a form of rebellion and protest- so I guess that means that you could call it interpretive dance. If you're interpreting a seizure. It is such a violent dance, I'm sure we'll see it make an appearance in the next Hunger Games film. All criticisms aside, it does mean that you can't be a bad dancer. Getting a cramp and don't want people to know you're in physical pain? Say you're doing the Harlem Shake! Having an epileptic fit? Blame it on the Harlem Shake! Have too much free time and have a sudden urge to waste energy, wield random objects and edit pointless film? Do the Harlem Shake.

The Hits That Missed...

As the year is drawing to a close, I thought it appropriate to look back at the songs which have been terrorising our charts and due to unimaginative radio stations everywhere, have been shoved down our throats and into our guts creating mass musical constipation. I don't even think my bowel related metaphor does this year's music justice.

Starships - Nicki Minaj
The only thing stranger than Nicki Minaj's body proportions and schizophrenic smile is her understanding of the English language. Not only has she come up with her own British and 'gangsta' hybrid of an accent, but in the distance, if you block out the sound of the soul destroying dance break, you can hear the sound of every literary figure's corpses doing cartwheels in their graves. Are starships meant to fly? I just don't know Nicki, and you know what annoys me? After three minutes of water boarding my ears to your song, I am in no way closer to finding out the answer. If anything I am more curious as to 'they say, what they gonna say?' WHAT THEY GON SAY, NICKI? WHAT?

Anything Adele. Or as she says, Adeh-w.
I am so bored with people drooling all over Adele's musical chick flicks. I admit, Skyfall was good, because for once, she kept her angsty oestrogen at a safe distance from the lyrics. Everything else, however, is just one dementia patient away from a Nicholas Sparks novel. She just has to shut up and sort her man problems out. Here's a thought, Adele: maybe you're the problem. Sing about that.

What Makes You Beautiful - One Direction
There are several reasons why this song is the musical reincarnation of the devil. It is essentially recycling the 'Summer Loving' tune from Grease. And even in that case, the only redeeming quality is the theme of teen rebellion and Danny Zuko in skinny jeans. But out pops these four gangly teens in a rainbow assortment of Topman chinos singing about anything but teen rebellion. They're also very frugal with their lyric count (unlike Nicki), evidenced by the fact they use three syllables to say the word 'eyes'; “I look into your ey-ey-eyes". If they were Mexican/ Speedy Gonzales, sure, that would make sense. Then a good year of our lives is shaved off while we wait for the end of the 'Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na [x2]'. What poetry.

I have it on good authority to believe that we are devolving and soon we will be swinging with the simians singing 'Call Me Maybe'- or if you don't believe in evolution, let's just say that 2012 is to music what Scientology is to religion.

What Mexican Soaps Have Taught Me...

During my long period of summer laziness, I acquired a somewhat unhealthy addiction. I struggled through the withdrawal phase as I weened myself off of stair pushing, child abandoning, split personality drama.

Yes, I watched Mexican soaps. I could have saved myself a considerable amount of time (more than I would like to admit) by just investing my time in one. Because they are all the same. Same plot; apart from a few embellishments such as- well, names really. Same actors too. As valuable as Thalia's acting skills are in our world, I've seen a larger variety of emotions on loo roll. Or even Kristen Stewart. I realise the second one was harsh. To loo roll.

One way in which crap Mexican TV has benefitted me is that I can now say;
- That is not your child.
- I am your real mother.
- What? You want to marry a poor girl? (Poor in terms of fortune, not empathy)
- I gave my baby away to a flower seller in a fit of postpartum depression...

ALL in Spanish.
Plus I have also come to the realisation that Mexicans cry all the time. There were times when I couldn't tell if the actors were happy, sad or going insane. It doesn't help that there are a million peaks and troughs in plot development- so they're together, then they realise they're siblings, then they find out they're not blood relations, they have a child, hospital results are mixed up, woman gets a terminal illness, they break up, man think child is another man's, 10 years pass and child looks like father, real hospital results revealed, happy family, BAM the woman gets hit by a car, becomes a cripple, falls down the stairs and can walk again. Throughout all this drama, I don't think that there was one scene where someone was not crying. It was hard to make heads or tails out of it with the ridiculous camera work. I have never seen so many dramatic, alternating facial zooms in one scene. Not only is this feature incredibly unnecessary, but I'm pretty sure it is a hazard for epileptic people.

So if you feel like you want to watch some uplifting/good television, don't be expecting anything but the crudest form of entertainment from Mexican soaps.