Need to find a new special level of hell.

“You’re going to burn in a special level of hell. A level that is reserved for child molesters and people who talk at the theatre,” said Shepherd Book to Captain Mal.

And who doesn’t hate people who talk at the theatre.  Thankfully it very rarely happens at the opera, hardly ever happens at performing arts theatres but quite frequently happens at the cinema.  The cinema it turns out is a bit of a social equalizer where the dole bludgin’, pot smoking bogans rub shoulders with out of touch, ivory tower academics and hard working plain speaking tradesmen find themselves seated beside businessmen with overly inflated high opinions of themselves.

We line up in the queues, buy our tickets and sit ourselves where ever seems the most auspicious location for the duration. Much like being crammed into an aircraft, we hope the person behind us won’t kick our seat around too much or even worse put their feet up on a seat right near us.  We likewise offer up a small sacrifice, perhaps a Jaffa or a Malteser, to the Deity or Superhero of Your Choice and hope that any children in close vicinity will be so mesmerized by the film that they won’t cry, talk, complain or fret throughout.  We also make small wishes on those itty bitty shooting stars that fly around the mountain on the Paramount Pictures logo that everyone in the cinema has turned their mobile phones off!

stars mountain logo high resAnd yet we’ve ALL repeatedly encountered bad behaviour of one flavour or another at the cinema.  I remember going to see Baz Lurhmann’s Romeo & Juliet and having to put up with the teenagers behind me complaining that they didn’t understand the ‘stupid way they are talking’ but ‘I love Leonardo DiCaprio, he’s so cute!’.  I’ve had someone’s spoiled brat of a child spill half a cup of soft drink all over me whilst throwing a a tantrum at their parent/adult supervisor because they ‘got the wrong lollies’.  I’ve sat near THAT woman who has to ask her partner to explain every bit of the action and give a running commentary on the entire film because discussing it AFTER the film would make too much sense.  I’ve sat near damn near terrified small children at MA15+ movies and listened to their crying because their parents didn’t do their research before taking little Johnny to see the new flick that THEY desperately wanted to see.  I’ve sat near people who haven’t mastered the art of chewing with their mouths closed thereby punctuating their way through the most poignant of cinematic scenes with an incessant chomping and crunching.  I’ve sat near people’s whose phones have gone off – time and time again… and watched on with incredulousness as people ANSWERED their calls and had conversations in the cinema much to the consternation of all around them.

cinema etiquette theatre behaviour

You’d think that the Gold Class Cinema Experience might afford you a slightly higher standard of cinema etiquette than your average Tight Arse Tuesday discount night at the local multiplex.  Not on your life.  Today Mr K, Aunty Mary, Great Gran and myself went to see Les Misérables at the recently refurbished Carindale Gold Class cinemas.  Tickets purchased online three weeks ago and we’d been looking forward to ever since.  Tickets for four comfy seats at $113 (including online booking fees); wine, nibblies platter, coffees and a desert for Gran all coming to a little over $140.00… so a $250 cinema experience which in my book is NOT exactly a cheap couple of hours of movie entertainment for four adults.

And yet, even in the rarified sanctity that should be the Gold Class Cinema, today I encountered a movie goer whose sheer wilful ignorance, absolute self absorption and complete lack of consideration for her fellow cinema patron really takes the cake!  This young woman… no that’s too generous… this chicken fuckin’ moron of a stupid little dumb arse, self obsessed GIRL decides to take photographs of her food platter using her mobile phone WITH FLASH.  Not once, not twice… but FOUR photographs before she puts the damn thing back in her handbag.  So while the rest of audience are watching Anne Hathaway sing and cry her way through a heartfelt and gut wrenching cinematic moment all I can see are these sporadic flashes coming from two seats to my left!  What sort of monumental fucktardery do you call that???  I thought I’d seen it all, but I guess not.

Abandon all hope ye who enter the cinema.. for here dwells THE PUBLIC.

cinema etiquetteImage courtesy of Dave at Blogography

 

‘Find iPhone’ Application? Not Activated!

A couple of weeks ago, I did something I never thought I would.  I gave the Small Child a functioning mobile phone so that I could put him on the bus to school and not be worrying that he made it safely. The problem of course is Translink… they’re notoriously unreliable, with Mr K on occasion storming back into the house half an hour after leaving saying three buses never came, and constantly complaining that they’re late and of course the whole, having to change buses at a busy bus interchange to get to school from here.  Just another one of those things I probably would never have bothered with if he were travelling with a sibling and they could look out for each other… oh, the joys of having an only child.

The Small Child has been in possession of the second hand iPhone since about March, when Mr K upgraded and was using it primarily on the wifi to play computer games and  such, and had demonstrated his capacity to keep it charged, not treat it like a toy and to the best of my knowledge wasn’t surfing for porn on it.  So, it was decided that sufficient levels of maturity and responsibility were being exhibited, and the phone was hooked up to a cheap BYO phone plan which allowed unlimited free calls to Mum and Dad.  So far all good.  But, of course, what happens once the phone is activated?  It got ‘lost’.

misplaced smartphone distress lost phone

Bugger. I had picked him up from BigSal’s after school, as per usual, and he had the phone with him then. We then drove to town to collect Mr K after work, not usual, and potential point of phone loss Number 1 occurs as they switched seats. On the way home, we decided to stop for frozen cokes because it was disgustingly hot and the Small Child took his phone into the store with him – potential point of phone loss Number 2.  Came home and Small Child checked the letterbox – potential point of phone loss Number 3. After that the Child + phone should have been securely inside the domicile… ‘should’ being the operative word in this statement.

Phone was thence reported missing when getting ready to go to school the following morning.  Mr K and the Small Child both asked me first thing in the morning if I had seen it – ‘Negatory Ghost Rider, no sightings of missing communications device’. They left for the day, sans phone, and I went back to attempting to read an article on ‘Demonic Possession and Mental Disorders of the Middle Ages’ and promptly forgot all about the entire incident.

Around midday, Mr K gave me a call to see how I was getting on and enquired if the Small Child’s phone turned up… a brief moment passed while I did a ‘Huh? HeLostHisPhone?WhenDidThatHappen?’ before the early morning conversation came back to me (yay marshmallow brain!).  Bugger. I guess I had better try and track it down.

His school has a policy of all phones at school being signed into and out of the office every day, so I called Bev in the office to see if it was signed out the previous day or had he inadvertently left it behind… no luck. It had definitely gone home with the Small Child.  Mr K had already rung both the building near where we picked him up and the frozen coke dispensary to see if an iPhone in a blue case had been handed in (yeah, as if!) and likewise, no joy there. I tried calling BigSal to see if it turned up at her place but as per usual she wasn’t answering her phone.  So I figured – it had to be in the car.  Three thorough searches, by three people of varying levels of competency later, and we determined it most definitely wasn’t hiding in the car.  We now had one very distraught Small Child who was feeling disappointed, heartbroken and somewhat guilty for losing his prized possession.

Now here is the truly stupid bit… iPhones as we know, have a ‘Find iPhone’ application and it was the ONE THING this particular iPhone didn’t have installed and activated.  I could open the application and find MY iPhone, my Macbook, track Mr K’s iPad and his phone, but for some reason the one device that was mostly likely to have been lost HAD NOT BEEN ACTIVATED WITH THIS FEATURE… sigh.  Stupid rookie mistake – we are use to administering our own gear and not someone else’s, in this case the Small Childs.  Bugger.

smartphone lost find my phone application

So, I signed into our phone provider’s website and was encouraged to find that no calls had been made using the handset or the SIM card.  I was rapidly hitting the point where I was going to have to cancel the account/SIM and disable the IMEI before we copped any bills… when Yale had an lightbulb moment of absolute brilliance.  We had tried calling it and it was ringing, but going to voicemail but at least it had some juice left.  He logged into the house wifi router and could see the phone’s MAC ID!  And, even better, when you called it, the wifi on that device activated, which meant the device was somewhere IN the house and connected quite happily to the wifi!!!  Big sigh of relief… won’t have to blame desire for frozen cokes after all.

how to find lost iphone

We checked everywhere. The Small Child had Drill Sergeant Mom looking over his shoulder as he cleaned his room, but alas, we found nothing but dust bunnies, old Pokemon cards and muesli bar wrappers.  We cleaned and checked the kitchen, the living areas, dusted the bookcases, went through the kitchen cupboards – looked everywhere.  And somewhere in among this hunting for the illusive iPhone, the Small Child told me he had a dream the night before that someone had taken his phone and broken it.  Which ordinarily wouldn’t mean diddly squat… except that, well, his mother had a known propensity for frequent sleep walking around his age and it now seemed very likely that the Small Child had gotten up in the middle of the night to put his precious iPhone in that most dreaded of locations known as ‘somewhere safe’.  Bugger!  The poor child was forced to give up all his secret hiding spots where he keeps his childhood ‘treasures’ as we continued the hunt for the phone. But alas, the curse’d iPhone was no where to be found.

We searched high and low for this thing (well Mr K and Yale searched ‘high’ and the Small Child and myself searched ‘low’).  We even called in backup to try and help locate it thinking that more eyes on the problem would help. We knew it was on the network, we knew it was on silent (school policy), and we knew the battery was probably running low by this point.  Executive decision made to wait until nightfall, turn off every light in the house and call it hoping that the touchscreen lighting up would be enough to give away it’s location.

how to find your phone no finder ap

If you’ve ever been on a long car trip with children then you’ll feel our pain here… instead of ‘Are we there yet?’ being repeated every fifteen minutes, we had a constant rendition from about 4:30pm – 8:00pm of ‘Is it dark enough yet?’  We eventually turned out the lights and took up positions throughout the house and called the damn phone again.  Convinced it was in the Small Child’s room, I vigilantly took up my post there expecting a flash of light… but no.  The plan did however work!  The iPhone that was previously known as ‘Steve’ and shall be henceforth known as ‘My Precioussss’ was located on the bookshelves in the dining room.  The exact same bookshelves I had dusted several hours earlier in our futile hunt for the Too Carefully Stashed iPhone Incident of 2012.  :S  Whoops. My bad.

I think there’s a few morals to this pathetic ‘First World Problem’ saga… firstly, maybe kids don’t need the stress of obsessing about expensive electronics, so we just shouldn’t give them these things, no matter how sound or well intentioned our plans may seem.  Second…hug an IT geek today!  We would have given up on the iPhone and perhaps even stupidly replaced it if we didn’t KNOW for certain it was in the house somewhere.  And finally, I wouldn’t ask me to help with the dusting if I were you… I’m obviously blind as a bat, off with the pixies or stoned out of my gourd.  :S

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You don’t say – You just don’t.

When people say to you ‘How are you?’ do they really want to know how you are or are they just going through the motions of being polite?

I know it’s mostly just a social nicety but more and more I’m starting to feel like I’ve spent two decades deflecting from answering this question honestly with a ‘Good thanks, how are you?’ response, and have recently wondered why we go around effectively lying to each other so much.  It’s so ingrained that I walk in to see my doctor at his clinic, and he says ‘How are you?’ and I reply with the same banal response… ‘Good thanks, how are you?’, when quite patently I wouldn’t be there if I was actually good?!?

Why do we do that?  Do we think our friends and family don’t want to know how we actually are?  Do we not want to bring people down with our worries and problems?  Do we not want to look weak to the people we know and love… and even less so to the people we don’t know or don’t care for? Do we not trust people to react well if we tell them how we are really doing?  Are we ultimately scared that no one really gives a shit and that if we give an honest answer we’re going to become that person that no one wants to talk to because something is always wrong?

I worked with a woman once, Sheryl… she was a typical govt OHS officer, floor fire warden, local union representative, long time public servant type who spent more of her time updating the evacuation response plan for the building than doing her actual job.  When we first started together she’d walk in at 9:30-10:00am (I on the other hand was an 8am starter) and say ‘Good morning, how are you today?’.  I would invariably bite my tongue and not mutter ‘Good afternoon’, but would reply instead with a civil ‘Good thanks, how are you?’  I hadn’t worked there a month when I started realizing this was a very loaded question and as a general proposition a very bad plan.  Most days she would reply with an equally banal ‘Not bad thanks, etc, etc’.  But as we got to know each other better… she started actually telling me how she was.

‘Hi Sheryl, how are you?’… Oh, absolutely horrid, the cat threw up all over the carpet this morning and I had to spend an hour scrubbing the vomit off the floor so I missed my train.  Eww.

‘Hi Sheryl, how are you?’… Mostly okay, but I have this abscess up here (holds open mouth and retracts lips) on my left molar which is all black and weeping yucky tasting stuff in my mouth so I have to go to the dentist.  Ewwww!  Overshare!

‘Hi Sheryl, how are you?’ … Dreadful!  I had this huge uncomfortable boil on crack of my bottom and I had to go to the doctor to have it lanced, which was okay, but I couldn’t reach to change the bandgage and now it’s all infected and…   Ewwwwww!  STFU woman!

how are you social nicety normal greeting lyingNeedless to say I rapidly got to the point where she would walk in and say ‘Good morning, how are you?’ and I’d respond with ‘Fine thanks. There’s some purchase orders on your desk that need quotes and I’m just popping out for a cuppa.’

I wonder if this is why we are all trained into the going through the motions with the social niceties when people enquire how we are, and rarely actually tell people what we are thinking, how we are doing and what’s going on in our lives?  Because ultimately when some people start telling you what’s going on in their lives… no one actually gives a shit.  :S

 

Load up, load up, load up the raspberry bullets!

bu·reauc·ra·cy    noun, plural bu·reauc·ra·cies.

  • government by many bureaus, administrators, and petty officials.
  • the body of officials and administrators, especially of a government or government department.
  • excessive multiplication of, and concentration of power in, administrative bureaus or administrators.
  • administration characterized by excessive red tape and routine.

I have spent my entire day fighting with one bureaucracy to another.  Starting with CentreLink and the erroneous bills they’re sending me for $6,631.00, and $942.68 and then $0.00 for the 2009/2010 financial year.  AND the bills they’ve raised for $6,050.00, then $2,500 and then $0.00 for the 2010/2011 financial year.  AND then the payment they’ve raised for $2,439.85 for the 2011/2012 financial year all because some noompty decided to go back into our little Family Assistance file and put in an income estimate for me that DOESN’T EXIST!!!  I’ve been a full time student for the last few years who hasn’t had a job 🙁 in several years – ergo $0 income: zip, nil, nada.  But for some reason someone changed that for the last three years causing this plethora of bills to be generated!  WTF?  Good to know where your tax dollars are going… to messing with computer systems, generating erroneous bills and killing trees.  Yay.   😐

And after that bureaucracy I had the fun of doing the RACQ run around as I continue to try and get my car sorted after some prat ran into it in the church car park… ‘your car is undrivable’ … ‘my car IS driveable ,it’s just not legally driveable because the tail light is damaged’ … ‘we will have to tow your car to Coopers Plains because it’s listed here as not driveable’ … ‘ how about we fix the tail light and then I’ll drive it to Coopers Plains and save on towing fees?’ … ‘that’s not how we do things’  … ‘oh, I was wondering why my premiums are so expensive – bit of common sense too much to hope for?’…

Then after semi-sorting out that bit of bureaucratic bullshit, the fun really started when I got onto the Department of Housing who are delightfully refusing to accept responsibiltity for the fucktard neighbours still being in situ despite promises months ago that they’d be moved on by now.  A conversation that ended with me promising a (another!) Ministerial correspondence and contact with various media outlets about their Department’s complete and utter failure to provide protection to the public under their own Departmental Instructions and Guidelines… because at this point I’ve had it up to Here – *Here being approximately 1 foot above my head height at this point.

And to top it off… leaving the worst for last.  A phone call to Optus about a confirmation email I was supposed to have received but never did.  Arseholes.  Please press 1 now… Please press 1 now… Please press 1 now… JUST LET ME FUCKING TALK TO SOMEONE!!!

unfair government big business impersonal cutting through

So if I wake up screaming in the middle of the night tonight, it’ll be because I’m being strangled by red tape like an insidious and inescapable boa constrictor determined to squeeze the very life blood out of me!!!

If you’re sick…

… don’t go to work and share it around, thereby reducing productivity and increasing your own work load when you return because all your colleagues are down with it!

… don’t get on an airplane full of strangers and cough and splutter all over the place so that your germs permeate the entire contained unit that is the plane’s air con system!

… don’t go to the cinema and hack and cough your way through an entire movie sharing your particular flu virus with maybe hundreds of unsuspecting patrons!

… don’t take public transport where you can’t help but end up touching every surface leaving behind microscopic particles of your infected sputum and snot!

… and ferfuxsake don’t go to an RHD seminar and cough all over the students in front of you who themselves are just recovering from the last time some inconsiderate bastard didn’t quarantine themselves!

If you’re sick… stay the fuck at home!

coughing spluttering other people stay home not work sick