During this week I have been mulling over a scientific theory which I feel I must share with everyone. There is not just one type of Tourette's Syndrome in the world - there are at least two types. One is the type where the person has a particular disorder where they swear uncontrollably etc. The other is the lesser known (i.e. I thought of it) but possibly much more commonly experienced tourette's, that I like to call "experiential tourrette's" . You have someone or something in your life that causes you a great deal of exasperation, stress, bad feelings, grumpiness and causes you to do things like regularly entertain homicidal thoughts whenever you are dealing with them or thinking about dealing with them. Over a period of time, the stress causes by this person or thing grows to a point where everytime you either hear their name (or even think about them) you starting swearing uncontrollably. Here is an example : you are dealing with your local telephone company over a billing error. They assure you repeatedly that your custom is important to them, whilst stuffing you around royally, not fixing the problem and ultimately pissing you right off. The next time year hear the name of this telephone company, the words (look away now children) "fucking arseholes, shit, fuckers, bastard, mother fucker, suck face, small dick, shit, bum" spill uncontrollably from your lips, increasing the rising feeling of anger and frustration that causes you to down 3 vodka martinis without even thinking. This is a very unfortunate thing, especially if you are attending high tea with your mother in law and she is talking about the new phone she has put in.
My suggestion: instead of pouring money into research to help sufferer's "control" their behaviour, the money would be better spent on hit squads who could take out the offending person or organisation. I think I would like to refer to this as a kind of vaccination against dickheads and will now go and work on my proposal for a grant to take this beyond the concept stage.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Back and there again
I have been lying low whilst my back has been getting better, but now that I am no longer high on prescription medication and can walk upright, I thought it was time to celebrate with a blog post. I even went for a 5km walk the other day and was very proud that I was able to pass someone on the uphill bit just before home. The fact that it was a 76 year old nanna pushing a stroller that contained what looked like a kid that could use some exercise I choose to gloss over, as I will take any small victory right now.
Have just spent a pleasant weekend with a cold, which meant lots of tissues, honey and lemon drinks (thanks, Tim) and feeling like I had been hit repeatedly with a cricket bat. My children were their usual considerate selves (to be honest, Grace was great, the boys were poops) and respected my headache that actually needed its own seat on the lounge by asking me the same question every 2 minutes in high, loud, "mummy is about to kill you" voices. I also had time to marvel at a three year olds ability to actually translate english into another language. An example of this is "Will, could you please keep the noise down" apparently translates as "Will, could you please scream as if your hair is on fire, run in a circle three times and then hit your brother with a Transformer toy" in three year old speak. I feel that this is a phenomenon sadly ignored by linguists. I am equally astounded at the amount of mucous a nose can produce, but a girlfriend of mine told me that mucous production has more to do with your gut than your sinuses, which led me to visualise my intestines coming out of my nose. Perhaps I have come off the prescription drugs too early.
I also had time this weekend to do a little shopping with the clan. I stick by my claim that shopping with any child under the age of 8 is an endurance event that a decathlete would think twice about. The contestants on "Gladiator" reckon they've done it tough but let me tell you, they only had to run 1 gauntlet. When you add up the number of aisles dedicated to toys in your local department store, you have "The gauntlet" on steroids. Plus, they do not hand out protective headgear or mouthguards at the start. All I have to say is that to all the parents out there that know what I'm talking about, I salute you and to those who don't, consider yourself lucky. Why I am drivelling on about shopping is this - what I found on the back of our receipt once we left the shop. Now, I'm sure that many of use have become familiar with those fantastic offers that are printed on the back - two for one coffee at some slop house that thinks nescafe is the yummiest thing around, 20% off a holiday that is a thinly disguised "grab a a granny" tour etc. But today, something new and I just had to share it with you.
Now, I am not mocking any performance problems that a chap may be having. Just the opposite. However, I am not too sure about this whole "nasal delivery technology" business. When you think about doing the wild thing, I am pretty sure that the first thing that leaps to mind is not "nasal delivery". And if it does, please keep it to yourself, I really don't want to know. Still, as my husband pointed out, this advertisement adds a whole knew meaning to "fucked in the head". To be honest, I have never thought of my nose as an erogenous zone, but perhaps this is just illustrating a lack of adventure on my part, rather than a deviant behaviour in others. I feel that this warrants more research, so perhaps tomorrow I will pay a visit to one of those stores out in the industrial area and see if they have a copy of a magazine dedicated to "nasal delivery". Maybe I have always misunderstood what the title "Hooters" has always stood for and all this does is illustrates my naivety. I mean, if it is on the back of a shopping docket, it has to be mainstream, right? Stay tuned, fellow nasal delivery innocents, I'm sure it doesn't end here.
Have just spent a pleasant weekend with a cold, which meant lots of tissues, honey and lemon drinks (thanks, Tim) and feeling like I had been hit repeatedly with a cricket bat. My children were their usual considerate selves (to be honest, Grace was great, the boys were poops) and respected my headache that actually needed its own seat on the lounge by asking me the same question every 2 minutes in high, loud, "mummy is about to kill you" voices. I also had time to marvel at a three year olds ability to actually translate english into another language. An example of this is "Will, could you please keep the noise down" apparently translates as "Will, could you please scream as if your hair is on fire, run in a circle three times and then hit your brother with a Transformer toy" in three year old speak. I feel that this is a phenomenon sadly ignored by linguists. I am equally astounded at the amount of mucous a nose can produce, but a girlfriend of mine told me that mucous production has more to do with your gut than your sinuses, which led me to visualise my intestines coming out of my nose. Perhaps I have come off the prescription drugs too early.
I also had time this weekend to do a little shopping with the clan. I stick by my claim that shopping with any child under the age of 8 is an endurance event that a decathlete would think twice about. The contestants on "Gladiator" reckon they've done it tough but let me tell you, they only had to run 1 gauntlet. When you add up the number of aisles dedicated to toys in your local department store, you have "The gauntlet" on steroids. Plus, they do not hand out protective headgear or mouthguards at the start. All I have to say is that to all the parents out there that know what I'm talking about, I salute you and to those who don't, consider yourself lucky. Why I am drivelling on about shopping is this - what I found on the back of our receipt once we left the shop. Now, I'm sure that many of use have become familiar with those fantastic offers that are printed on the back - two for one coffee at some slop house that thinks nescafe is the yummiest thing around, 20% off a holiday that is a thinly disguised "grab a a granny" tour etc. But today, something new and I just had to share it with you.
Now, I am not mocking any performance problems that a chap may be having. Just the opposite. However, I am not too sure about this whole "nasal delivery technology" business. When you think about doing the wild thing, I am pretty sure that the first thing that leaps to mind is not "nasal delivery". And if it does, please keep it to yourself, I really don't want to know. Still, as my husband pointed out, this advertisement adds a whole knew meaning to "fucked in the head". To be honest, I have never thought of my nose as an erogenous zone, but perhaps this is just illustrating a lack of adventure on my part, rather than a deviant behaviour in others. I feel that this warrants more research, so perhaps tomorrow I will pay a visit to one of those stores out in the industrial area and see if they have a copy of a magazine dedicated to "nasal delivery". Maybe I have always misunderstood what the title "Hooters" has always stood for and all this does is illustrates my naivety. I mean, if it is on the back of a shopping docket, it has to be mainstream, right? Stay tuned, fellow nasal delivery innocents, I'm sure it doesn't end here.
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