I Hate It When That Happens…

Have you ever stepped on an upturned plug and cursed the brat who left it there? Or gotten frustrated by a group of teenagers blaring music out loud on a bus? Have you ever been annoyed by someone reading a newspaper over your shoulder? Or fumed at stepping in dog shhhh (mess) on the footpath? Have you ever griped about how unhygienic it actually is to offer the sign of peace at mass? Or seethed at the sight of someone throwing rubbish out the window of a car?

Pet peeves. I’ve got ‘em. You’ve got ‘em. Your Mom’s got ‘em. The postman’s got ‘em. You get the gist. Life is full of little nuisances and irritations. Unfortunately there’s very little do be done about them. There will always be something that just rubs you up the wrong way.

At the realisation that I haven’t posted anything here since March and with inspiration from a conversation I had with a 9-year-old after her shoe fell off when she was running, here is but a glimpse into the plethora of pet peeves that I battle on a daily basis…

 People Who Want The Red Sweet

Have you ever been eating a packet of Starburst (or Opal Fruits if you’re awesome) and someone asks can they have one? “No problem buddy, what’s mine is yours. Here ya go.”… “Oh, I only like the red ones. Can I have a red one?”

Excuse you?! Are you having an episode?! No shit you only like the red ones! EVERYONE knows that the red ones are the best ones. Matter fact, if Starburst did away with all the other colours and just sold packets of the red ones, that’d be juuuust fine. And it’d put a halt to those uncomfortable situations where people ask for the red one and you have to either shut up and give it to them whilst wishing you never made friends with them in the first place or rummage through your vocabulary to try and find a way to tell them “no” without sounding like an anal dickhead.

There’s only ever one or two red sweets in the pack. They’re precious and, least in my case, are always put aside to be enjoyed once I’ve grudgingly made my way through the poxy orange, green, yellow and purple ones. As far as I’m concerned there’s an etiquette to be followed if you want a sweet off someone: take what ya get and put some gratitude in your attitude!

Or just ask for any other colour but the red ones. Actually, here, you can just have all the other ones.

People Who Say “Ha Ha!”

I work with children. This means that on a daily basis I am subject to questions like, “are you getting a baby?” or comments such as, “My mammy says it’s rude to have a ring in your nose like you.”

It’s fine. You’re just a child. I’m not offended (I’m actually crying on the inside). It’s part of the joys of war. I’m not getting a baby, I just had a big lunch and eh, your mammy would wanna lighten the fuck up. Children are, by nature, explicitly honest. It’s what I love and loathe most about them.

There is, however, one phrase I hear more than any other that drives me up the wall and out the windows: “Ha Ha!”

I don’t mean “Ha Ha” as in that’s funny, I’m laughing. I mean “Ha Ha” in a mean, Nelson from The Simpsons kind of way. I forgot my purse! “Ha Ha!” I broke a cup! “Ha Ha!”  I tripped over a schoolbag and knocked my head off the radiator! “Ha Ha!”

Course, I’m not talking exclusively about children here. I love those guys mostly. Adults do it too. Immature, awkward ones who haven’t quite worked out who they are yet.

Thing is, when you trip or break something or fumble in some way, it can be pretty shitty and the last thing you need is some mean-spirited person making fun of you while ensuring that everyone’s attention is drawn to your mishap with a mocking, “Ha Ha!”

There’s no comback. Thanks for that.

Slow Drivers

To clarify, speeding is wrong. It’s against the law and 60% of the time, I never do it. But, and this is a big, Kim Kardashian but(t), slow drivers do my head in.

I’m late most of the time. If you tell me to be somewhere at 6 o’clock, I’ll be there at ten past. I realise that this is a pet peeve of a lot of people but I can’t help it. ‘Less it’s super important, I’m inherently guilty of punctual unreliability.

Anyways, as a result of this, I usually cannot afford to get caught up behind tractors and/or drivers who aren’t really sure where they’re going. When I should have been at work ten minutes ago, I need to be doing at least the speed limit.

It’s awful when you’re cruising along and you catch up with the old lady from down the road doing 40mph in 2^nd gear with her left indicator on since she left her house. She’s driving half way across the line and you can’t get past.

Fair play to ya for being mobile and independent at your age Mrs. Murphy but like, MOVE!!!

Texting While in a Conversation

Nothing says, “I’m not listening” like the clicking of the buttons on a mobile phone while you’re trying to talk to someone.

I appreciate that texting has to be done. I’m a habitual texter myself. But if you’ve ever been talking to someone and then you have to repeat what you’ve said because the other person stopped listening to reply to a text, then you know the frustration you feel.

Texting is a handy way to stay in touch with people, or to let your friends know important details of your day, like, that you just met their father in the shop. The texting itself is not what bothers me. What bothers me is when sending a text takes priority over having an actual real-life, face-to-face conversation with someone.

No, no, don’t worry, I’ll just stand here like a bolox while you smirk at your phone and furiously click in a reply while pretending to listen to what I’m saying. Matter fact, hang on, I’ll just text it to ya.

Odd Socks

In the words of Rivers Cuomo, “my fashion sense is a little wack.” I am perpetually to be found in a hoodie. My hair hangs loose. My shoes are often scuffed and my nails unkempt. I’m not exactly what one would call “put together”. It’s not that I don’t care. Actually no, that’s exactly what it is. I’d much rather spend my time ambling with the dogs or chillin’ with itunes than agonising over what I’m gonna wear or applying fake tan. Too. Much. Hassle.

BUT… No matter how baggy my hoodie, no matter how dishevelled my hair looks, no matter how chipped my nail polish or torn the bottom of my trousers, I will ALWAYS be sporting matching socks. Guaranteed.

Odd socks bother me. Can’t explain it.

In my house I operate a self-imposed “buddy box” policy. I have a box in the laundry room. Any socks that lose their buddy in the process of washing must be placed into the buddy box where they will remain unless and until a buddy can be found.

I aaalmost can’t believe I just admitted that. I know. Anality, thy name is me.

People Who Are Afraid of Dogs

A phobia is characterised as being an irrational fear as in coulrophobia, a fear of clowns (clowns are funny yo!) or triskaidekaphobia, a fear of the number 13 (thanks Nirvana/Friends).

If you’re afraid of dogs, look away now ‘coz we’re about to fall out.

Officially, a phobia of dogs is called cynophobia. Unofficially it’s called ridiculous.

Of course I’m speaking from a biased perspective, that of a lifelong dog lover. I currently share my home with two big pooches, both of who have a big bark and a non-existent bite. You call wool and pull and antagonize and generally fuck with them all day long and receive nothing but attempted licks and wagging tails in return.

There are certain animal related fears I can get down with. Bears, for example. Bears are massive and not near as cuddly as their teddy counterparts mislead us to believe. A fear of sharks is also fairly reasonable, thinkin’ we’re seals and chowin’ the fuck down with their 20 million teeth. A fear of apes is acceptable too. They’ll rip your face clayne off with their opposable thumbs while staring you down with their unnervingly human eyes.

I’ve never been bitten by a dog, ever, so maybe it’s easy for me to talk but I’m sorry, I can’t sit back and understand when someone runs terrified of an animal that has long been regarded as man’s best friend, an animal that helps the blind and disabled, an animal that serves loyally in both the army and police force, an animal that emotes and loves and obeys. I just can’t.

Yeah, yeah, every dog is different, yadda yadda. I’m about as immovable on this subject as North Korea is on the idea of being honest. A dog is as vicious as its owner makes it.

Tangled Ear Phones

You finish with your ipod. You remove your earphones and you carefully wrap them around the device and deposit into your pocket/handbag/glovebox. Two hours later, you retrieve the ipod for another private disco session and, hey whaddya know, the earphones are now an incomprehensible, tangled mess. What. The. Fuck?! I was so careful!

It’s one of life’s great, unexplained mysteries. The same thing happens with the wires at the back of the TV. Nobody’s touched ‘em since the TV was bought and still, it’s like a labyrinth of black wires back there. You need to change the scart from the dvd player to the playstation? You’re gonna have to just start at one end and work your way to the other to avoid fucking shit up. Just one of those things I guess but daaaaaaaamn it’s annoying!

Finding Just a Little Bit Left

Confusing title. What I’m referring to is when you come home from somewhere and you go to the cupboard to get a bowl of cereal and you discover that there’s only a tiny bit left. When you get up in the morning and you go about making the tea, you open the fridge and find two drops are left in the milk carton. When you go to use the bathroom and discover one sheet of paper left on the roll. When you take a shower and the conditioner bottle spurts out enough to do about an eighth of your hair.

To the person who uses all these things before me; just take it all. I see your logic. You don’t want to be the prick that used the last of the washing powder. But please don’t bother insulting me with the dregs. I have no use for the heel of the bread. Honestly, I’ll be less annoyed to discover there’s none left than to get excited and then realise it’s a useless amount. Just let selfishness prevail in this instance.

Being The First One At A Party

Noone wants to be the first one to arrive. You try and time it so you’ll be just late enough that there’s a few people there ahead of you. Problem being that this is a universal solution and thus, everyone’s late and you still risk being the first to arrive. My tip from the top is to wait until you’re late, and then just wait a little longer, then go.

Otherwise, you risk arriving while the “big lights” are still on, the music hasn’t been figured out and no one’s had a drink yet. You sit alone on the sofa, looking at the DVD collection while your host “jumps in the shower real quick”.

Being late isn’t about being fashionable. It’s about avoiding boredom.

Automated Answering Services

You know the ones.

A few weeks back I rang Vodafone. I was trying to unblock a SIM. I tried to do it online to no avail. I needed help. So I rang ‘em. For the life of me I could not work out how to get speaking to a real person.

Press 1 to do this. Press 5 to do that. Please log on to vodafone.useless to unblock the SIM. In the end I just rang the nearest Vodafone shop and got them to talk me through it.

If a company is going to use an automated answer service, an option to speak to a rep should always exist on the very first menu. That is all.

Trampolines

THEY’RE SO DANGEROUS!!!

Right, sure I s’pose that’s enough for now. Too many pet peeves and reading about pet peeves will soon become a pet peeve. Maybe another time I’ll get grumpy and moan some more. Or maybe I’ll balance the scales and regale you with a list of some of the best things ever (finding money you forgot you had/lists themselves).

There wasn’t even any fun pictures to look at this time. Fuck sake.

My College Meme Wars…

It’s a funny thing, pop culture. It’s the one thing that binds generations but can divide cultures.

The core of any pop culture is the meme. If we’re gonna be all fancy pants about it I’ll tell you that a meme is defined as follows: “a cultural item that is transmitted by repetition in a manneranalogous to the biological transmission of genes.” Riiiiiiight. In other words, a meme is a reference that is spread through society by recurrence and popularity.

When I was but a naive young teen the height of pop culture was ‘Jackass’. Man I loved that show. I loved Bam Margera. Scooter was all the rage too. My friends and I spent many a Friday night youth disco drunk on Bacardi Breezers, throwing some serious shapes on the dancefloor to ‘The Logical Song’. We also listened to a lot of Linkin Park (who I still believe to be awesome), Eminem and The Red Hot Chili Peppers (By The Way had just come out) and we thought Von Dutch trucker caps were the biz!

I was perfectly happy in my simple adolescent world of copying friends’ homework and knowing all the words to ‘It wasn’t Me’ by Shaggy (TUNE!), but, as is always the way, life was to interject. The Leaving Cert loomed and university beckoned. In the space of three months I was launched into a whole new spectrum of pop culture; college memes.

College is a place full of new discoveries for all the young country cubs like me. We come from the land of GAA and letting your dog roam free (coz c’mon, there’s plenty of land and rabbits to be chased and everyone knows he’s your dog so he’ll be alright. He’ll show up when he’s hungry and done exploring). We’re skilled at things like blocking the gaps in the road when the cattle are being moved, knowing what the weather’s going to be like tomorrow by assessing how it is today and getting people to recognise who we are by mentioning our fathers name. We’re not so adept when it comes to adapting to urban life. We come to the Big Smoke from the Serengeti and we have to deal with shit we aint never had to deal with before! Stuff like, how much does it cost to get the 13A bus from O’Connell St to the Ballymun Road?, like remembering not to walk down Talbot St with your valuables in your hand and like all the John Player Blues. No self respecting country native smokes Johnny Blues! They’re not right!

The college meme is a sub-category of this whole new young, metropolitan culture I was thrown into at 17 years old. A meme is also defined as “an idea, behavior or style that spreads from person to person within a culture.” An example of one “college “meme” that I picked up in my first year of college is ‘Family Guy’. I had heard of ‘Family Guy’ before, but not in any major context. I had lived my life in a world where television consisted of seven channels. And now, Comedy Central!? Paramount!? MTV?! (my four guy roommates and I had a dedicated routine of ‘Next’ and ‘Date My Mom’ every evening on MTV. We used to bet on the outcomes. I mean, we skipped lectures for those shows. It was serious.) Of course, ‘Family Guy’ is one of the many things I picked up in my college years that stuck. We all know what it is these days. It couldn’t be more famous. So, I’m not going to focus on the ones we all know. Imma concentrate on the ones that somehow slipped into the peripherals of our knowledge… The ones we used to know so well…

RODRIGO Y GABRIELA

Rodrigo Y Gabriela actually inspired me to write this piece. It’s not really right to refer to them as a meme but sure anyways, we’re here now. Recently, I was asked about concerts I’ve been to. I realised that I went to A LOT of gigs when I was in college. I got to thinking about the good old days. The Dropkick Murphys at The Ambassador (which no longer hosts music), Velvet Revolver at The Point (which is now the O2 Arena), Iron Maiden at the RDS (which is still the good ol’ RDS), Rodrigo Y Gabriela at The Olympia. And then I remembered how awesome Rodrigo Y Gabriela were and realised that I hadn’t heard anything from them in a very long time. So I saw to it that I got them into my itunes pronto.

Rodrigo Y Gabriela, for anyone who is unfamiliar, are a Mexican guitar playing duo and they are AMAZING! They used to have a heavy metal band in Mexico and then they moved to Ireland and started busking to make a living. Their music was this incredible blend of Spanish guitar with rough heavy metal influences, executed with precision and passion and just obvious years of practice behind it.

They hastily gained a cult following and got bigger and bigger until everyone was talking about them. I went to see them in 2005 at The Olympia Theatre and it was phenomenal, the real idyll of what an intimate acoustic gig should be. 

Mad props! So why did Rodrigo Y Gabriela fall off my radar? Rediscovering them recently confirmed that I had good reason to appreciate them in the first place. To be fair they do have the skills to pay the bills and genuinely deserve success. I can’t recall the moment where I stopped listening to them. It most likely came around the time my trusty block of a ‘Creative Zen’ mp3 player gave up and I came over all hipster with a shiny new ipod.

Anyway, the point is, upon further inspection, Rodrigo Y Gabriela did not fall off my radar at all. In fact, I fell off theirs. As it happens the pair exceeded this little isle of ours with great success. They got a feature on MTV and did what many have tried and failed to do before them and broke the US of A. They were on Jay Leno. They were on Lopez tonight. They even performed for ‘What’s The Craic’ Barack himself! They did some of the score for ‘Pirates of The Caribbean’ and ‘Puss In Boots’ and they just released their 5^th album ‘Area 52’ in January.

So… Shame on me, I guess. Rodrigo Y Gabriela ya’ll. Word!

BEBO

In 2005 I was talked into joining Bebo by a friend of mine who went to college in Maynooth. She said it was a great way to stay in touch. I thought it was just an NUI thing and thus assumed the username, ‘DCUGirl’ to assert my allegiance to my own side. Pretty soon, the whole country and its dog was on there.

Of course, these days we have Facebook and, in comparison, it’s blatantly obvious how juvenile Bebo really was. The site allowed us to choose our own skin (mine was a Snoopy theme). You could upload photos. You had your friends all there on your profile. You could update your status, write a blog, create a poll, draw a picture or “share the luv”. You could even write a story about how you knew people you were friends with. In fairness, Bebo had a lot to offer the young and impressionable it was aimed at. But somehow, for some reason that I can’t quite put my finger on, Facebook is just better.

I will admit that I wasn’t an easy convert. I didn’t understand Facebook at first. I didn’t know what you were supposed to do on a “wall”. The concept of “poking” someone just baffled me and I kept getting notifications telling my that my cousin was sending me shots and that I should send her some back when, in fact, I never received any kind of tiny beverage. I didn’t like it. But that just was the Cancerian in me. In the end I had no choice. None of us had a choice. If social networking sites were a movie trilogy Facebook would be ‘Jurassic Park’, Bebo would be ‘The Lost World’ and MySpace would be ‘Jurassic Park III’ (you can use the ‘Look Who’s Talking’ trilogy either, if you prefer). They’re all decent enough, but you can’t argue that one is significantly better than others.

Face it. Bebo is dead. Facebook is king. Resistance is futile.

Or maybe we should just get off the internet and go get a real life…. Hahahaha!! Nah, I’m just playin’ ya’ll!

HOME AND AWAY

During my college years, my schedule was a lot busier than it is now. Horse-riding on a Monday, €3 drinks in the Old Bar on a Tuesday, Tae Kwon Do on a Wednesday, €3 drinks in Fibbers on a Thursday, rushing for the 109 back to Cavan after lectures on a Friday. But rarely were any of those things permitted to get in the way of me being in front of a television at 6.30PM every evening for ‘Home and Away’.

Now, I do realise that ‘Home and Away’ is not just a college phenomenon. It’s a nationwide phenomenon. ‘Home and Away’ has been shown on RTE since its inception in 1988. That’s a long time. My whole life, in fact. Kind of mental considering it’s like the Aussie version of ‘Fair City’. Regardless, we lapped that shit right up like shimps on a barbie.

Perhaps that’s the very reason it remained a staple throughout university. It reminded us of home (and away?). It was a constant in our otherwise changing lives. It didn’t matter that it was absolutely and completely ridiculous in its’ storylines or that the characters seemed to come and go at lightening speed. They were beautiful. Summer Bay was beautiful. Just like always. The Bay was there to make us feel at home. Just hearing the intro makes me want to go back and live in that time again.

You know we belong together… (You know the words!) You and I forever and ever! No matter where you are, you’re my guiding star. And from the very first moment I saw you, I never felt such emotion. I’m walking on air! Just to know (Just to know!) You are there! HOLD ME IN YOUR ARMS! DON’T LET ME GO! I WANT TO STAY FOREVER! CLOSER EACH DAY! HOME AND AWAY!!!

 

The good news is that ‘Home and Away’ didn’t go anywhere. It’s still right where it should be; on RTE2 at 6.30PM every weekday evening, after ‘The Simpsons’. 24 years. God bless you Ireland and your awesome, silly ways.

CYANIDE AND HAPPINESS (ET AL)

Cyanide and Happiness is a comic strip. I can’t remember who brought it to my attention. I can’t remember why it was brought to my attention. But I do remember finding it very funny.

Cyanide and Happiness wasn’t like anything else that came before it. It was a very specific humour. One that was created by and for Generation Y. Simplistic in its presentation and dark in nature, it managed to be offensive and massively funny without being blatant. It was certainly the first time I’d ever seen an awkward silence translated into a drawing.

And today it’s still just as popular. A new strip is uploaded daily at http://www.explosm.net

Around the same time that Cyanide and Happiness was popular, another meme crept onto the spectrum: Salad Fingers. Salad Fingers was not funny. Salad Fingers was creepy as fuck. Like the infamous, ‘Two Girls One Cup’, it wasn’t something that you showed someone out of love (Not that I would ever inflict ‘Two Girls One Cup’ on anyone!). No, you showed ‘Salad Fingers’ to people to give them the creeps, just like they were given to you. ‘Salad Fingers’ spread through the student community like wildfire, making the hairs on the back of everyones’ neck stand to attention as he passed, caressing rusty things with his… *shivers*…. salad fingers…

CHUCK NORRIS

Chuck Norris doesn’t need a paragraph justifying his place on this list. The facts started appearing around 2005. They’ve been appearing ever since. Here’s some personal favourites:

• Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door.
• The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
• Chuck Norris once won a game of Connect 4 in three moves.
• Chuck Norris can delete the Recycling Bin.
• Ghosts sit around the campfire telling Chuck Norris stories.
• Chuck Norris once punched a man in the soul.
• Chuck Norris does not have hair on his testicles because hair cannot grow on steel.
• Chuck Norris does not flush the toilet. He scares the shit out of it.
• Chuck Norris eats the core of an apple first.
• Chuck Norris can lead a horse to water and make it drink.
• Chuck Norris leaves messages before the beep.
• Chuck Norris counted to infinity… twice.
• The only time Chuck Norris was ever wrong was when he thought he made a mistake.

THE RICKROLL

It’s 8pm. You’re in the library, “working on an assignment” (aka: checking bebo and patrolling the web for… anything, really). It’s quiet. Others are at computers around you silently focusing on their studies. The bad-tempered woman behind the desk is stamping books and peering out over the top of her glasses, looking for anyone she can apprehend. The only sound is that of the printer in the corner, faithfully spitting out notes that will give someone a few hundred extra words on their 2,000 word essay. You see a link to something that catches your interest, I don’t know, “Top 10 Most Badass Grand Theft Auto Moments” or something of the like. “Oooh,” you think. “I am interested in finding out what  the top ten most badass Grand Theft Auto moments are.” You click on the link. 

BAM! You just been Rickroll’d! Daaaaaaamn! Now everyone’s looking at you and you can feel the eyes of the bad-tempered woman glaring at you from behind her desk. The only solution is to turn tomato red, ‘X’ out of the video as fast as possible and pretend it never happened. How could you be so foolish!? You should have known better. Stoopid Rick Astley and his sneaky ways!

 

I’m four years out of college now. My little sister is now in her first year in good ol’ DCU. And from what I can see, some things never change. They just evolve. Trolling is all the rage. ‘Know Your Meme’ refers to trolling as, “any behavior that is meant to intentionally anger or frustrate someone else.”  I can see the humour in that. Angry people are funny. Especially when they’re angry over ridiculous things. Here’s Aziz Ansari demonstrating just how amusing trolling can be: 

 

Inspired by posts on sites like ‘FailBlog’ and ‘I Can Has Cheezburger?’ as well as all those goddamned Facebook groups, the memes we see these days looks something like this: 

 

We had Rodrigo Y Gabriela, a Mexican guitar duo. Now we have The Rubberbandits, an Irish comedy hip-hop duo.

We had ‘Bebo Stunnahs’, a group of young girls, caked in make-up and doing “sexy” poses for the camera. Now we have ‘Facebook Wetsers’, which is pretty much the very same thing except with better grammar.

We had ‘Home and Away’ and we still have ‘Home any Away’ (LIKEABOSS!).

We had ‘Cyanide and Happiness’, a comic depicting dark humour and offensive situations. Now we have ‘Rage Comic’, a comic that depicts normal shit with a sudden mad face thrown in.

We had ‘Chuck Norris Facts’, a meme stating incredible facts about the man. Now we have ‘Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling’, a site that depicted things that Ry Goz would say to you if you were his girlfriend, usually beginning with, “Hey Girl,”.

We had RickRolling and sure, poor Rick Astley’s been paying the rent off the back of it since!

The world of pop culture and the societal memes that come with it is fluid. Ever changing. It would be impossible to keep up with them all (and a bit sad, probably). Mark my words that if you remember Rick Rolling, someone three years younger than you likely would not. That’s the way of the ipod generation. It all happens in the blink of an eye. The key to staying down with tha kidz is the same one for keeping on top of the housework; little and often. Get yourself online every now and again, have your little sister show you videos on youtube. You’ll be a’ight.

Chuuuuuuuch!