Happy Father’s Day, everyone. For those of you without fathers/those who think this ‘holiday’ is a pisstake/those who are just a tiny bit bitter about the whole thing, I’ve devised this handy little drinking game for you. The rules are simple. All you need is a strong drink and a will to turn on the TV.
Drink when:
- Someone says the word “dad.”
- Someone says the word “daddy.”
- Someone says the word “father,” etc. etc. You know the drill.
- Someone shares a dad anecdote.
- A voiceover wishes you a happy father’s day.
- An annoying presenter on TV talks about how awesome their dad is.
- Someone does a shoutout to their dad on live TV.
- There’s a family comedy on TV about a dad: think Three Men and a Baby.
- There’s a programme about “World’s Worst Dads.”
- An advert pops up about last minute gifts for your dad.
- Your friends keep talking about what they got their dads/forgot to get their dads/how great their fathers are.
- The websites you’re on are filled with dad-related stuff from friends.
- The tech blogs you love have articles on “gadgets that will make your dad happy.”
- All those fathers on TV make you feel a little bit wistful.
- You feel a little bit sad about the whole thing.
- You eventually get pissed off with the outside world and turn everything off.
BONUS ROUND (just because): Drink whenever someone with a German or Spanish accent says a dad-related word. Examples include German guys saying “Fazzer!!!111!” or “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
tl;dr version: Drink whenever anything dad-related comes up.
I joined the youth branch of the political party my views corresponded with the most earlier this year, the Liberal Democrats. Currently, there are elections going on in Liberal Youth to elect the new executive and the various committees. No doubt, when you get involved in politics, you expect to see some nastiness. But you don’t expect that nastiness to come from members of the same party. I’m starting to wonder if getting involved was the best idea after all.
As the youth branch of the Lib Dems, Liberal Youth’s membership database is significantly smaller than that of the main party (less and less young people getting interested in politics, etc). Liberal Youth only accounts for those aged up to 26 (and some people who really ought to be members aren’t tagged as being members, but that’s a story for another day). The small amount of members mean that cliques easily develop.
Like in real politics, certain members will always vote for the person they’re friends with, regardless of what they can offer to the party or what they’re actually promising to do – see Labour’s leadership elections. But I don’t see ‘proper’ politicians smearing other candidates about internal jobs (because that’s just unprofessional, and just gives ammunition to the other parties come election time). So why do we see it so much in youth politics?
Long before I joined Liberal Youth, there were some issues that led to most of the executive of the day resigning, and by-elections having to be held. I’m starting to see things heading the same way again, and the elections aren’t even over yet.
At present, my Facebook feed is filled with squabbling amongst the people running for various positions. People are threatening to leave the party if (insert member name here) gets elected instead of (insert another member name that they’re friends with here), and some are still arguing about what happened last time.
HERE’S A NEWSFLASH. Liberal Youth elections count for practically nothing in the real world. No one outside of the party cares who the current chair or vice chair of whatever is. But it reflects badly on the party if you can’t seem to act like a civilised human being during these elections. The Lib Dems are known for being the ‘third party’ in UK politics, coalitions aside. If none of you can grow up and act rationally, then you can’t expect anyone else to take us seriously.
I joined the Lib Dems because of their policies on equality and fairness. Not because I wanted to stand idly by whilst the person who had the most connections within the party got the top job. Nor did I join to watch slanging matches between people who really ought to know better.
Let people who are voting in the Liberal Youth elections make up their own minds about who to vote for, no matter how stupid – Lulu‘s voting based on the people with the coolest names, but that’s her prerogative. Endorsing another candidate is fine if you’re doing it personally, but please don’t use your existing role within the party as leverage for the candidate you support.
If the youth branches of political parties are meant to be the politicians of the future, then I’m extremely scared. Because, honestly? I wouldn’t vote for any of you based on the way you’re acting now. In ten years, you could be helping to run the country. And that’s a seriously worrying prospect when you can’t treat members of your own party with respect.
…Isn’t democracy grand?
One of my friends did a post about me on her blog* (which I did not ask for, just so you know), and has been pestering me to return the favour. She never said it had to be flattering, and I’m better with insults than I am at compliments, so here it is – with some help from some other friends of mine.
One of Louise’s defining qualities is that she doesn’t understand jokes, most of the time. Louise… takes things, for lack of a better word, very literally. This occasionally causes frustration amongst other friends of mine, as the people I tend to socialise with are extremely sarcastic. Louise takes whatever we say seriously (think of her as a lesser, female version of Christopher in the Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time**), and responds as if we were idiots. This leads to facepalming, long, drawn-out explanations, and finally, some rage directed her way. Most of the time, she still does not understand even after we have explained whatever it was we were discussing. She also makes out like it’s your fault that what you said didn’t make sense to her, not that she doesn’t understand.
She’s also ‘the slutty one’ amongst us. As another friend remarked, “she goes for anything with two legs. Or rather, at least two legs.” I once had to pull her out of a sex shop after she had decided to go in there with a guy we’d only met hours before, and she tends to hit on men immediately after we meet them, regardless of whether she likes them or not. Awkward.
My relationship with Louise is different to that of other friends, in that I have a habit of forgetting that she exists. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I’m just not very good with names. Sure, I can list the names and email addresses of the people I talked to online 10 years ago, and can probably tell you what your friend’s friend’s pet dog is called, but I just have a problem with remembering people I’m likely to meet in real life. So, when I’m given the task of inviting everyone out, I tend to leave her name out of things. It’s only when everyone turns up for whatever it is we’re doing that day and someone goes, “Where’s Louise?” that I stop and think, “Shit” and ring her, tell her to turn up and quickly apologise.
…Let’s get onto the nice things now!
Er, she’s a great cook, “has a noice indie thrifty style”, and “is caring. In a weird way.” Oh, and she apparently has a nice bedroom. She’s also one of the more sane people I know, and that’s saying something.
Louise, we love you really. Sort of. As another friend remarks, “she’s ditzy, but intelligent. Underneath it all. You have to dig a while though.”
Please don’t try to kill us.
*All my friends seem to be blogging lately. Grr. Considering I don’t use RSS, they’re a bitch to follow (but it’s in my best interests to follow what they say). Meh.
**”Lesser version” because she definitely does not have autism. Although that would explain a lot.
My decision-making process is made like any other human being. What will the benefits be? And what will my decision cost me? [In most cases, a few friends] When I do decide to not do something, what really infuriates me is that people always want another reason for why I’ve chosen to be apathetic. Surely “I don’t want to” or “I really can’t be arsed” should put an end to the matter. But this just seems to bring more questions. THERE IS NO UNDERLYING REASON. I REALLY, TRULY, GENUINELY, 100% CANNOT BE BOTHERED AND/OR DON’T WANT TO.
A factor that greatly influences my decisions is travelling. I HATE TRAVELLING. I dislike leaving the house unless absolutely neccessary, and even then, I won’t stray far because of the time it’ll take me to get back (for example, concerts). I refuse to spend hard-earned money and waste too much valuable time travelling just so I can see someone perform.
I hate the weather as I wait for a bus (with no guarantee of getting on), the smells of the people around me, and the constant chatter I hear as I try to catch up on the sleep I missed the night before. The less time I spend on public transport, the better. However, I am reliant on it to get to places because I currently don’t have the funds to buy a car.
If you invite me to something, and the location is near some form of transport that can get me home (whether it be a train station, bus stop or tram station) without much walking in between the two, then I’m all yours. However, if you do not live anywhere near one of these places and expect me to walk to the place in my stupid shoes*, then I’m going to drop said event like it’s hot. Ahem.
So, given the choice to relax at home or to go to a place where I’m going to have to walk for ages to get to any form of public transport, I’ll take the staying at home choice every time. And if I’m a bitch for not wanting to waste my time, so be it.
*I no longer own any shoes that are good for actual walking. Shiny and beautiful, yes, but blister-causing and useless to walk in after half a mile.
This piece was written for a competition (which seems to have been deleted since then) that closed several months ago. I believe I would have won this competition had I not been too lazy to press the “Publish” button. Ah well. I will leave this here for your enjoyment instead, or as a warning to future boyfriends as to what lies in store if you try to come between my chocolate and I.
I have to admit it, when it comes to chocolate, Toblerone is my vice. However, I’m also a sucker for chocolate with bubbles in them. And caramel. Mmm, caramel… When given the opportunity to write 12 words or less/924 words or more on what I would do with 48 bars of Wispa Gold, I couldn’t resist. Guess which (insane) option I chose to write about? Yes, the 924 word version!
Note that I actually couldn’t think of 924 words on this subject (Quelle surprise!), so you’ll have to do with my half-baked attempt instead. What I have written already sounds creepy enough as it is – holy crap, I’m turning into Lulu!
So, here’s my answer to:
“If I was locked in a room with 48 Wispa Golds and Ross Farquhar, Brand Manager for Wispa, I would…”
- Open the box. Well, you’ve got to start somewhere, right?
- Then, I would grab all the Wispa Gold bars, and slowly open them, one by one.
- And then, I would make a big long rope out of all the wrappers.
- And then, I would tie Ross Farquhar with the rope made out of wrappers to something secure.
- And then, I would dangle the open Wispa Gold bar above Ross Farquhar’s head.
- And then, I’d wave it about until told me how to pronounce his surname, and whether he was related to Lord Farquaad from Shrek or not.
- And then, I would force-feed him a piece of Wispa Gold. [No matter what he says about loving caramel, he must be sick of it by now.]
- And then, I would eat the rest of the Wispa Gold bar whilst working on my evil laugh. At this point, my evil laugh still needs some work.
- And THEN, with the remaining 47 Wispa Gold bars, I would build a fort (never mind the dirt on the floor).
- And then I would make Ross Farquhar play a game of Cops and Robbers with me… Whilst still being tied securely to something secure.
- And then I would make him lose.
- And then I would eat another chocolate bar to reward myself for winning the game.
- And then I would be upset about losing The Game.
- And then I would comfort eat another bar to make myself feel better about losing The Game.
- And then I would feel quite queasy.
- And then I would start feeling nostalgic about the 80s, when Wispa Gold was a big hit.
- And then I would try and think of 80s music to stop me feeling so queasy.
- And then I would remember this.
- And then I would grab a Wispa Gold bar to use as a microphone.
- And then I would sing the literal version of “Take On Me” whilst waiting until I could physically eat more chocolate. “PIPE WRENCH FIGHT!” [Ross Farquhar, at this moment in time, is, of course, naturally terrified.]
- And then I would eat the slowly melting Wispa Gold bar.
- And then I would grab another bar.
- And then I would pretend I was Willy Wonka.
- And then I would be happy that I had ALL THE CHOCOLATE IN THE WORLD.
- And then I would be disappointed that my chocolate didn’t have magical powers like Willy Wonka’s.
- And then I would be sad.
- And then I would cry a little.
- And then I would cheer up.
- And then I would Rickroll Ross Farquhar.
- And then I would give him up.
- And then I would let him down.
- And then I would run around.
- And then I would desert him.
- And then I would make him cry.
- And then I would say goodbye.
- And then I would tell a lie.
- And then I would hurt him.
- And then I would share another Wispa Gold bar with him.
- And then I would feel bad about my actions.
- And then I would hide the 40-something remaining bars in a box.
- And then I would cry and beg and pound at the door.
- And then I would threaten to taser someone if they didn’t let me out THIS INSTANT.
- And then I would taser the poor sod who came to open the door.
- And then I would demand a refund from another person who hadn’t been tasered.
- And then I would get all stroppy when they refused.
- And then, after they had threatened to press charges, I would run away.
Uh, yeah. And there ends my train of thought on “If I was locked in a room with 48 Wispa Golds and Ross Farquhar, Brand Manager for Wispa, I would…” Incidentally, there are obviously many non PG things I could have hypothetically done, but that would have been awkward to write about. Really awkward.
I’m not going to be eating Wispa Gold bars for a long time. I’m never going to see them in the same light ever again after I click “Publish” on this blog post.
P.S:
Dear Ross Farquhar,
If you ever Google yourself and see this post, I am dreadfully, dreadfully sorry. Um, is this post still worthy of a Wispa Gold bar (minus a restraining order)? I’m a perfectly sane and normal person most of the time, honest! Kthxbaii.
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