Tag Archives: silly

You Have Been Warned…

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I took my four-year-old son to a local fair at the weekend (it was more for my enjoyment than his!!). After going mad on the dodgems and spending vast sums of money on pointless games involving guns, sticks and ball pits, we arrived at the ‘hook a duck’ game. You’ve seen the game before, I’m sure. It has a simple premise: take a long stick with a hook on the end, hold it over the ‘pond’ of plastic ducks (without accidentally hooking the wig of the stall owner) and pick up a duck.

Now, I was realistic about our chances. Although the sign said “prize every time,” I wasn’t expecting that we’d end up winning a speedboat. No, I’d have been quite happy with a giant cake in the shape of a ferris wheel or a year’s supply of toilet rolls…

So, what did my son win? Well, he had the opportunity to choose a prize from around the edge of the duck pond and he chose, perhaps unsurprisingly, a big, plastic gun.

As I inspected the gun that we had won (see how I’ve changed my son’s victory to become “ours”!), I was pleased to note that warnings signs were clearly marked on the packaging. For example, there was this warning…

Plastic Gun Packaging Warning 1

And I was thrilled to discover that the gun was very energy efficient, simply working off a mixture of flour, egg and milk…

Plastic Gun Packaging Warning 2

I’m pleased to be able to report that the gun DOES fire in a straight line… ;)

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Rolled Or Folded?

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Present - Wrapped

I stared blankly at the shopkeeper, with a confused smile; I was experiencing a moment of sheer perplexity. My conversation at the till in a local card and gift wrap shop had been very interesting and going well until it came to a sudden and abrupt halt. I was asked a question to which I was struggling to find an answer. The question was this…

“would you like your wrapping paper rolled or folded?”

I’m sorry, what? Can you not start me off with something a bit easier, like… ‘what causes gravity?’ or ‘if a one-legged hen laid an egg and a half in a day and a half, how long would it take a monkey with a wooden leg to eat a packet of Maltesers?’

I felt unprepared for such a demonic attack on my grey matter. When you’re on a quiz show, such as ‘Who Wants To Be a Millionaire’, they at least start you off with a simple question, such as “how do you spell ‘moron’?”, before moving on to questions of higher complexity.

After a long pause of bewilderment, and with a fleeting evil grin, I turned the question back onto her: “well, I really don’t know. What would you recommend?” I could see her brain short circuit as she stood there with a blank, confused look. It appeared that no-one had ever turned the question back onto her. After a spell of silence, she replied, “do you know what, I never can decide that myself!” Suddenly, I felt less alone in the world… :)

So, what should one answer? Well, let’s look at the options available in the world of gift-wrap carriage (that’s ‘carriage’ and not ‘carnage’). I could choose to have the wrapping paper rolled. I could then carry it home, wielding it like a weapon, tripping people over as I walk by and hitting old ladies over the head. I have discovered on previous occasions that there’s something special about carrying it like a baton that gives one an incredible sense of power. I suddenly transform into a superhero; ready for a bank robber to run out of the local Natwest so that I can bludgeon him to death with my flowery, pink wrapping paper roll. “I can take anyone on… oh, shit, it’s started to rain…”

The alternative option is for the shopkeeper to fold the wrapping paper. That’s much more sensible, allowing me to easily fit it into my bag. However, when I go to wrap the gift, it’s going to end up with great big folds in it. Still, if I have it rolled then it’ll end up battered anyway. So, maybe it’s the best of a bad bunch.

Do you know what? The real reason I can’t ever come with an answer to the question “would you like your wrapping paper rolled or folded?” is because I don’t care. That’s right, I don’t give a shit whether they fold the paper, roll it or make it into a giant paper hat so that I can wear it home. I mean, sod it, come up with something creative: “Would you like your wrapping paper rolled, folded or crafted into an origami swan? If you like, I can set fire to it or blu-tack it to the neighbour’s cat.”

Creativity is what is required here. Now, where did that pesky moggy go… ;)

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A Towel Too Far…

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Rapport can be described as a state of harmony achieved when the people involved appreciate and understand each other’s feelings and ideas and communicate on the same wavelength. Here is a story of how I established rapport with a room maid during my stay in Cancun. I was feeling a little cut off and lonely at the time, so it meant a lot to me.

During my two-week hotel stay, I occupied a twin room all to myself. This meant that I received two of everything, or in the case of bath towels, four of everything. It seemed a little extreme.

My first few evenings in Cancun were spent outside of the hotel. However, on my fifth night at the hotel, I was enjoying a rest before dinner when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door to a maid, who presented me with a towel before wishing me a good evening (in Spanish). “This is ridiculous,” I thought, “what the bloody hell do I need ANOTHER towel for?” Despite this, deep down inside me I felt a tingling sense of increased security: if I should need to have 10 showers a day, I could! Furthermore, if I ran out of money, I could start my own laundry shop… ;)

Opportunities can appear when you least expect them to. As I stood there, towel in hand, a childish idea came into my head – ‘towel origami.’ I could have some fun with this towel and put it to good use. So, this is what I made…

Enrique - Towel Origami

Say “hello” to my towel man, Enrique; made from one bath towel and one hand towel (together with a few bits and pieces from the complimentary bathroom pack). I left Enrique sitting at the top of the second bed; to greet the maid the next day. Next morning, I went out for the day, returning in the evening. As I walked back into the room I spotted that Enrique had disappeared… to be replaced by Mariana (complete with flirty eyes)…

Mariana - Towel Origami

Continue reading →

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Yesterday…

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Yesterday

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away… but then I ate baked beans for lunch and the day started to turn. To start off with, I got chronic wind. Now, I won’t bore you with the details. But, let’s just say that you know you’ve had too many beans when you manage to whistle 3 verses of Good King Wenceslas in one go… from the wrong end. Not a good end to lunchtime.

After eating lunch, I visited the bank to withdraw some money from the cash machine. As I did so, I noticed a notice on the machine: “This machine may dispense 5 pound notes.” It seemed strangely vague to me. I mean, surely it MAY also dispense ten, twenty or fifty pound notes? Equally, it may not. Perhaps the notice is warning us that the machine is temperamental? Maybe it depends on the time of the month (a female ATM) or whether it likes the look of you. Do you think it sits there grumbling away to itself: “the little shit – he comes to me asking for 200 pounds. Right, let’s see his face when I give it to him in fivers…”?

That temperamental nature was also in evidence when I went to leave the bank. I had withdrawn money from the machine (in fivers) and put my wallet back into my pocket. I looked towards the bank door – it was open, inviting me to venture back out into the chilly cold. I walked across the floor towards the door and got within a metre of it before it closed infront of me. I grappled with it, pulling it open. As I squeezed out of the other side, it decided to open automatically again. I looked behind me, in disbelief. As I was doing this, another lady went to walk into the bank through the open door and it promptly slammed shut in her face, pushing her all the way back out again. She didn’t look happy. I, on the other hand, found it hysterically funny.

Later in the day came a final, bizarre, twist to my weird day. After completing my tasks and work in town, I made my way over to my Mother’s flat for dinner. We sat down to eat our meal in the lounge – cue a strange situation. I find there’s something slightly disturbing about eating dinner with your Mother whilst pandas urinate & shag on the television in the background.

Let’s analyse this for a minute. What does one do in that situation? Well, the way I saw it, there were three choices:

  1. Tell her not to let pandas into her flat in future – especially not at dinner time ;)
  2. Ignore the television, increase the conversation level and hope that she doesn’t notice the pandas humping against the tree… and in the shelter… and by the water…
  3. Quickly find the remote control and switch the television off… by which point she will definitely have noticed the content, leaving me to make a slightly embarrassed comment about why I switched it off.

I went for option 2…. it was the wrong option. The pandas urinated and humped their way through the next 20 minutes of TV time. Clearly, it was panda mating season and the male had been taking a daily dose of viagra with his bamboo. I’ve never talked so much and so loudly in my whole life!

Yesterday – what a day!

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The Humble Toothbrush

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Toothbrushes

As someone who runs my own business, I’m used to making difficult decisions. However, today I found myself facing one of the most challenging decisions I’ve made in a while. That’s right – I went to buy a new toothbrush.

Before you laugh, just consider what a complicated decision it has become to choose a new toothbrush. I spent several minutes pondering, bemused, in the supermarket aisle because I couldn’t decide between green and blue, soft and firm, springy head or non-springy head, tongue cleaning or non-tongue cleaning…

What I found particularly funny, other than imagining the sight of me scratching my head infront of the toothbrushes, was some of the marketing on the toothbrush boxes themselves. For example, the toothbrush that I ended up buying (because it was on special offer) was labelled as ‘professional’. Now, what exactly does that mean – can I call myself a professional tooth brusher? There seems little justification for being awarded this title. Surely I should have attended a training course, passed an exam and been presented with a certificate before achieving such an important honour?

Having graciously accepted this title (by agreeing to pay £2.50), I wonder whether it’s time for me to update my CV to include “professional tooth brusher?” Perhaps I could also include the fact that I do a ‘professional’ job of wiping my own backside too? (though I do say so myself!)

Onto another point now, regarding product marketing. I bought some toilet rolls today and on the packaging was a big star containing the text “Voted product of the year – consumer survey of product innovation 2009″. Have I been transported back in time several centuries? According to Wikipedia, “the first documented use of toilet paper in human history dates back to the 6th century AD, in early medieval China.” So, they seem a little late in recognising this fantastic “innovation” (and, lets be honest, our bottoms wouldn’t be the same without it). One wonders what other products of ingenuity received awards at the same time – the wheel, the cocktail stick and the hairpiece, perhaps?

I can imagine that the 2010 awards will see another ‘hard fought’ competition, with the innovation of the year being something like… ah, yes, that new concept called the ‘bar of soap’…

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Pop Reunion Concert Tickets

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Concert

This week, tickets went on sale for a series of concerts by one of the biggest bands in the world (you know who I’m talking about) – a British male group that took the pop world by storm with hit after hit during the nineties.

Billed as the “biggest pop reunion ever”, the concert announcement caused an unprecedented demand for tickets; bringing websites and phone systems to their knees. Throughout this time, fans were repeatedly requested to “have a little patience…”

I experienced the frustration first-hand; spending hours on the phone, hitting redial only to receive a heartbreaking engaged tone. My redial button was seeing more action than a bedspring at an Amsterdam brothel.

After hours of phoning, my hopes of getting hold of tickets for this once-in-a-lifetime experience were finally dashed. The concerts were fully booked and my chance had gone.. I wouldn’t be going to see my beloved Right Said Fred afterall!

I don’t know how I’ll cope… :-(

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