The Gillette Fusion Stealth Power
That’s right, this razor has three names, four if you include the brand name, all of which designed to inspire some ultra macho thinking. FUSION! Fusion reactors making kajillionbillion megawatts of electricity! This razor has fusion technology, when it hasn't even been invented yet! That’s how powerful it is! Speaking of powerful. POWER! This razor will cut your facial hair or whatever other hair you happen to be cutting with this! In fact even if you bring this razor to your face all your hair will just fallout of fear AND respect. And finally my favourite part of the title, STEALTH! This razor has fucking active camouflage; it kills ninjas and flies above Russia spying on them while simultaneously keeping Vladimir Putin bald by shaving him from 50,000 feet up in the sky. Then it comes home to your bathroom and you never even knew.
What were Gillette thinking? not only is the most preposterous name for a razor ever created, it means that Gillette can go no further without taking on even more absurd monikers to their brand. "new GILLETTE NUCLEAR PHALLUS LASER X-RAY MUSCLE STEROID FACE-CUTTER DEATH" followed by images of clean shaven men flying rockets, jets, race cars and other phallic objects with big whooshy effects, Jeremy Clarkson shouting power and turbo.
And yet after all that, after leaving my razor at home on a trip to Peterborough, I decided to buy the face annihilator. I'll admit it was curiosity, six blades, five on the front and one on the back and it vibrates. Let that sink in. It’s a razor that vibrates, apparently this creates micro-pulses that...something..... something Christ I can’t even type it out because it makes no sense, it lifts up the facial hair somehow but how the hell a vibrate function does that I don’t know, any scientists got a reason why this would work? The only reason I could feasibly think of having a vibrate on a razor is to give yourself some jollies in the morning and that is a god awful idea when the vibrating thing is attached to six sharp blades.
But yes, I bought it and I tried it... and I honestly can’t tell the difference. The five blades don’t seem to make that much of a difference, the one blade at the back is completely useless for anything other than creating crop circles in your two day stubble. I’ve tried to use the single blade but I can’t even tell if it works. We used to have single blades and they were used by barbers and they still are! These single blades are so sharp and supposed to give such a clean cut, and after the shave the barber changes his title and goes back to using the giant sharp blade to cutting up cows for steak.
Sure we could go back to barbers who give us the best cut in a gentlemanly fashion and you leave the barbers with a lot less money. Oh.
Bad Interviews
Yesterday I went for the second interview today for a job in sales. Sales you say? Why yes I answer with a charismatic smile and a wink that could drop the knickers of a nun. But as soon as I got there, the smell of fish was rotten, the first interview seemed very shiny, with lots of flash furniture, hip music videos playing in the waiting room and copies of girls magazines and FHM for guys (which you would never touch anyway unless you wanted to look like a pervert, but thats another subject) and I was interviewed by a guy who seemed very powerful and I was gonna be in advertising or selling soap to idiots or bread to hungry people. Oh if only the world worked like that, well, it does in some cases. This case being the selling was to me, and I was the fucking idiot.
I turned up for the second interview expecting to be shown around the offices, and taking phones calls and doing big meeting pitches and that sort of shit where I would show off my young flash style in advertising and get them mega bucks and me megabucks. No, I waited to be introduced to Renata, a Czech girl who had been working with the 3D company for a while. This should have been my first warning sign by I stuck with it. She said she would take me around, showing me what 3D organisation does. Alright I thought, we’ll be going to this big Manchester office companies trying to sell them advertising and making mega money so we could be doing coke off gold by lunch time. Not quite so.
Before we went to our destination we had to get some lunch, she was kind enough to buy me a sandwich even though I wasn’t that hungry and then we met the rest of the team and there was only one other person speaking with an English accent. Now I have nothing against immigrant workers, but when you’re in the minority in your own country, you’ve either fucked up in life or you’re in the wrong job. So we headed off for Stockport. Yes Stockport, ok it’s not as glitzy as the company seemed, but hey we would still be selling to big companies in Stockport right? Hell there’s a Lamborghini dealership in Stockport! Would we fuck. We went to Bramall while Renata was explaining how much money I could make by doing so many sales door to door. DOOR TO FUCKING DOOR. Apparently Renata’s grasp of mathematics is as poor as mine, explaining I could make about 250-350 a week. I could make more than that on minimum wage for fuck’s sake!
But I’m willing to listen and, well I’m too fucking polite to someone who bought me a sandwich and bus ticket. So I spent five. FIVE, FUCKING HOURS in the pouring rain in my nice looking, horrible feeling suit with shoes that practically eat the skin off my feet but leave enough so I’m in constant agony. Admittedly, while Renata got some sort of money by getting me to join, I felt obliged to join her, partly because I’ve been unemployed for a long time and partly because she had paid almost ten pounds for me to be there. But after five hours of trouncing around in the rain, considering all the other sorts of areas I could be visiting on behalf on Npower, all the sorts of weather conditions I would be required to work in for 8 hours straight with no certain pay, only to come back to the office there and work some more for fuckers who aren’t paying me.
Fuck that.
Men’s Toilets
Well what the fuck happened here? Did every man’s IQ suddenly and sharply drop as soon as they enter a men’s room? Urinal etiquette is not so terrible except for the morons who can’t aim, but I assure you I plan on getting to them in a second. Occasionally you get the moron you is stood right in the middle of a set of urinals, where the code is to step as far as part as possible. This is actually acceptable, imagine, that the village people all went for a simultaneous piss, it could happen! But as soon as he goes, they leave him alone in the middle. That’s not his fault. What does piss me off is the guys who stand right next to you in the urinals for no apparent reason, ok I’ll admit, I get “Stage fright”, I cant wee without being alone, that is not uncommon, its the guy who exacerbates things by standing right next to you so you cant piss and have to leave with a full bladder, or just end up forcing yourself to piss to save yourself embarrassment because you cant piss in front of others and end up red faced because you just forced 8 gallons of lager through a tiny hole.
Then you get massively packed clubs where your FORCED to stand shoulder to shoulder to eighty or so other men in a trough and you cant go, because you feel that for some sense or another that then can all tell that your not weeing yet, and for the unspoken rule they just tell by sound. Perhaps this is a masculinity thing, perhaps this is just a me thing. Anyway, onto the next subject before we get onto knob gags! (She did! Hyurk hyurk )
Men’s Toilet cubicles. Why did this place for having a quiet shit become the sole source of anarchy and destruction in the UK? What the fuck happened? Sometimes you go for a shit and some cunt mutilator has pissed all over the seat? WHY? Did you have your bell end replace by a sprinkler? What the fuck?! Did you really need to piss all over the seat or couldn’t you have just sat down like a civilised human being, or maybe you were too embarrassed by that knob piercing that you had to go into a cubicle to hide your shame AND THEN PISS ALL OVER THE FUCKING SEAT. And what about the people who cover the seats, floor, walls, toilet, ceiling, any other surface in piss sodden toilet paper. Why? What could possibly compel you to do this? And then you add shit into the mix and it’s me praying for something to end humanity quietly and quickly, or bloodily and quickly, considering this knobs.
Sad thing is, I know this is partially just some twats being vandals to ruin someone else’s day, but I see it with such astonishing incidence that it makes me think that sane adult makes enter a cubicle and become mischievous five year olds.
Grow the fuck up!
My own rational thought or the loss of it.
I seemed to have lost the ability to make rational, critical and even aesthetic decisions about anything in my life, I am completely without opinion, I try to form my own opinion about whatever it seems to be bugging me but it just won’t form with out any clear and concise decision. So I look to Wikipedia, FUCKING WIKIPEDIA! I spend far too much time on that website edited by arseholes who want to have their own opinion valued above anyone else’s and will arbitrarily destroy your contrasting opinion because it does not mesh with their own intellectual opinion. No sorry thats wrong because these people who edit Wikipedia are just as small minded as the rest of us and have no “better” opinion because mostly the subject their writing about is subjective. Even the creators of Wikipedia have decided that it is so terribly inaccurate that it should be abandoned. When the creators of a website tell you to fuck off because it’s terrible, it’s a bad sign. And you know who the biggest prick of all is?
ME
I watch films and read books and I come up with my own opinion about the characters and their traits and then what the holy fuck do I do? I fucking look on Wikipedia, why? I lie to myself and try to convince me that I’m looking for opinions and views, historical and trivial references that I missed but really I’m looking for someone to explain the film to me because there are parts I didn’t understand or simply that I want someone to agree with me and I end up reading something that is completely against any understanding of the film or book or sandwich and I go away taking their opinion and completely disregarding it. I do this because its on a webpage and I for some reason take this to be true, Wikipedia has completely killed my reviewer and analytic nature because I simply accept what is says rather than my own view, this is something I learnt in film studies and could do easily as I breath but now its gone.
If I’m honest I don’t blame Wikipedia, it’s my fault I should learn to accept it as an ill-informed opinion, rather than the god’s honest truth. But that won’t stop me looking it up next time I’m confused by a film, or want to understand a religion, because fuck, I won’t read the bible, I’ll just read Wikipedia.
Does the guy who invented Wikipedia have an interesting 666 tattoo?
Ah fuck it. I’m trusting Microsoft word with my spelling, but that’s because I’m dyslexic, gimme a break.
