The past few days I have been going for job interview after job interview after job interview. Each interview requires one to dress 'feminine'.
femininity+business=heels
Now I'm not normally one for heels, if you gave me a choice of picking the $500 heels and the $20 sneakers, I'd take the heels, sell them on Ebay, and get five pairs of sneakers.
Pfft, seriously, what else did you think I'd do?
Ok, so the point is, walking in heels sucks. Seriously, those things were not invented for comfort. I look back to my naive days where I'd laugh at those ladies walking around with pained looks on their faces, now I find that I'm one of them, one of the cursed ones.
That's right, the cursed ones....
Imagine, waking up, the sun's rays have not yet touched the cold, dry earth. You drag yourself out of bed, and wince as you hear the crows cry somewhere in the distance. Each day is like this, each day, you and only you are destined to tackle the tasks at hand. You trudge your way across an icy cold path, and plunge headfirst into an ice cavern, foraging for food. You breathe a sigh of relief as you pull out some leftovers.
Today's morning hunt was an easy success, you only hope that the afternoon's harvest proves to be as fruitful. You sit, hunched over your food, protective of it, after all who knows what kind of animal could spring up and steal it.
After feasting, you tiptoe to a heated waterfall and bask in its intense heat, you don't want to get out, but you have the burden of knowing that your tribe is depending on you. Reluctantly, you leave the heated waterfall, and like magic it ceases to exist. You were able to give it life, and bring it death. Yet you are used to this ability and it no longer phases you.
It is now time to get dressed in the ceremonial garb, you start with the basics, undergarments, after all your body is a precious temple, one that must not be tainted by the eyes of the outsiders.
Next you place on tight stockings, bearing the traditional colour of your tribe, black. You, playing an important part in your tribe, bear slight patterns on your stockings, to accentuate your femininity. Next is a skirt, of course this is black too, we don't want to insult our elders by wearing neon green now do we?
Next is a top, which varies from person to person, you end up choosing a nice white colared shirt, with semi long sleeves which are slightly ruffled. You also choose a simple necklace, to accentuate your inner being.
Finally, it's the dreaded heels. The one thing that you, I..all of us are bound to. They have become...our curse
Tiny shoes that we must place our sacred feet into, to elevate them off the dirty floor. Why? Because we are probably high priestesses of some sort, and our feet are not allowed to touch the ground. Unfortunately, we are only human, we cannot float, hover or fly, so only a part of our feet may touch the ground.
Ah but this powerful statement of strong femininity comes at a price, the pain of our sacred feet, our beloved heels. Some of us drive, others catch the public transport service, some are lucky enough to have their tribe meetings close by, and are able to walk there.
Yet a full day of work, for a girl, a woman, is pure torture.
At least that's the way I see it, I might be starting a job soon, fingers crossed. I get word from them in the next few days, if I succeed, my first purchase will be a foot spa.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Shandy Dandy Bus Trip
Busin’ It around town, it’s Shandy Dandy!
I have my learners permit, and a shandy dandy car, which is currently in the hands of my not so shandy dandy sister. Not that I don’t trust her, she’s just not so shandy dandy.What is Shandy Dandy?Hell if I know, but I love the ol’ 20’s slang, and I reckon that would fit right on in there with the bees knees, cat’s Pajama’s and Jake.
Onto Buses, the Shandy Dandy things that they are, the people you meet and sit next to offer a wide variety of the way society lives. I find buses very interesting, as I often let my mind wander. I look at the various people and wonder what their lives are like.
For instance, the metal head sporting a Sepultura shirt, ripped jeans and half done up Connies, who smells suspiciously of weed. He stands at the front of the bus, one hand casually holding the little leather strap that hangs so carefree from the ceiling, the other in his pocket, possibly changing the song on his I-pod, or clutching his little bag of weed. His head slowly bops, his long untamed hair framing his face and falling way past his shoulders. I wish my hair was as long as his. It would be hard to maintain though, I cannot help but imagine him standing in front of a large mirror brushing his long oiled dusky brown locks and chuckle quietly to myself, averting my gaze to the next person.
The girly-girls. The pristine ‘beauties’ of their high school or social click. They’re the ones who sit, nestled close to each other on the poorly upholstered bus seats, wearing obscene amounts of jewelry, bangles and fragrance. They’re the ones who leer at the rest of the patrons on the bus, as though they’re filth for catching public transport, yet forgetting that they are also on public transport. They bring out a top of the line phone, looks to be one of those touch screen ones, an I-phone no doubt. They start blaring out ‘Like it Like that’ by Guy Sebastian, a song I’m not fond of, I hear it everyday on the radio, at work and in the shopping centers, I really don’t need to hear it on the bus. I don’t need to hear them sing either, they aren’t bad at singing but aren’t entirely great either I turn my own Ipod up and drown out the sound with a little ol’ Shaolin Temple of Boom. I’m not the only one that shows distaste for their actions…
The girl sitting across from me, has her feet up on the seat, sporting neon green converse shoes, it’s a popular brand and I’m used to seeing everyone wearing them. Heck, on weekends I sport my own pair of converse sneakers. She has skinny legged black jeans on, and is wearing a Qscar the grouch t-shirt, it looks as though it’s vintage, but these days you can buy those shirts brand new. I think they’re called vintage look wear or something of the like. She has several piercings on her face and ears, including a labret, lips, nose and eyebrow. Her short cropped hair is multi-toned, one side which was flattened out to cover her left eye was black, the other side of her hair, which was styled into short funky spikes was a blonde colour. I suppose she would fall under the category of punk, or emo. It’s all the same to me these days.
The pink/goth/emo girl slams her finger into the little red button labled ‘stop’ and the bus slows down. She sees me looking at her and pulls a strange face, as though she was scared that I was going to jump her and tie her up in a potato sack before lugging her to my abode. I give her a meek smile and a wave, to show that I’m not some deluded abductor. She gives me another quizzical look before hurrying off the bus.
She is replaced by a rather largely set man, I want to be nice about this, but there isn’t any other way to describe him other than extremely large. His mid section spilled out over the seat, his body mass occupying a space usually built for two. In his small clammy hands he clutched a half eaten McDonalds cheeseburger, oozing with red and white, a strip of bacon half a\hanging out the bun. Now I know why they say no eating on the bus, the very image alone nauseated me, let alone the horrible smell. The stench of body odor and fast food mixed together to create a deadly concoction. I winced and turned away, in hopes to get away from this new grotesque being, yet to no avail, I could hear the slurps and munches, as I was listening to a quiet song.
I feel sorry for the businessmen sitting behind him. Clean shaven with suits and ties, they both sported briefcases and sat rigid, participating in that awkward idle chit chat that one can often find themselves in with a stranger. By now the bus was filling, and getting rather stuffy. I wanted off, but alas, my stop was still some way away.
Regardless I found myself watching helplessly, as my hand rose to touch that angry red button…
‘Ding’
My eyes widened in fear, as I just realized that I had pressed the button, it wasn’t my stop, what was I to do? Now normally one would just brush it off, and pretend that they didn’t push the button, after all, someone was bound to get off or on at the same bus stop. I did just this, I sat there, shifting my gaze out the window to watch the people pass. I refused to shift my gaze as the bus came to a stop, I heard a few murmurs around me, but thanks to the soothing sounds of Amy Lee I was unable to hear the subject of the conversations.
The bus still hadn’t moved, and it had been a good five minutes, yet me being the stubborn little thing I am refused to take a gander around me, I just assumed everything was Jake, after all I had an interview to go to, so I had to keep a calm and cool composure.
5 minutes pass
Finally, I take a look around me to find that the bus was virtually empty, and that the bus had broken down, oh what wondrous luck! The murmurs around me were of the girly girls, the fat man, and the businessmen, all wondering why I was still sitting on the bus. I shrugged it off, ignoring the pang of embarrassment I felt and so I hop, skipped and jumped off the bus. Which I think is an amazing feat since I was wearing heels.
Standing at the bus stop, awaiting the next bus.Next to me stood the metal head, the girly girl, the fat man, and the business men. On the other side stood a hippy wiccan, a bogan and a R&b hip hop artist.
Five minutes pass
ten minutes pass
The bus pulls up and I stare at myself in the reflection on the window, I am standing alone. The bus stops, and opens its doors, and we all get on the bus.
The hippy, the metal head, the girly girls, the fat guy, the businessmen, the R&B artist, the bogan and the hippy wiccan.
I have my learners permit, and a shandy dandy car, which is currently in the hands of my not so shandy dandy sister. Not that I don’t trust her, she’s just not so shandy dandy.What is Shandy Dandy?Hell if I know, but I love the ol’ 20’s slang, and I reckon that would fit right on in there with the bees knees, cat’s Pajama’s and Jake.
Onto Buses, the Shandy Dandy things that they are, the people you meet and sit next to offer a wide variety of the way society lives. I find buses very interesting, as I often let my mind wander. I look at the various people and wonder what their lives are like.
For instance, the metal head sporting a Sepultura shirt, ripped jeans and half done up Connies, who smells suspiciously of weed. He stands at the front of the bus, one hand casually holding the little leather strap that hangs so carefree from the ceiling, the other in his pocket, possibly changing the song on his I-pod, or clutching his little bag of weed. His head slowly bops, his long untamed hair framing his face and falling way past his shoulders. I wish my hair was as long as his. It would be hard to maintain though, I cannot help but imagine him standing in front of a large mirror brushing his long oiled dusky brown locks and chuckle quietly to myself, averting my gaze to the next person.
The girly-girls. The pristine ‘beauties’ of their high school or social click. They’re the ones who sit, nestled close to each other on the poorly upholstered bus seats, wearing obscene amounts of jewelry, bangles and fragrance. They’re the ones who leer at the rest of the patrons on the bus, as though they’re filth for catching public transport, yet forgetting that they are also on public transport. They bring out a top of the line phone, looks to be one of those touch screen ones, an I-phone no doubt. They start blaring out ‘Like it Like that’ by Guy Sebastian, a song I’m not fond of, I hear it everyday on the radio, at work and in the shopping centers, I really don’t need to hear it on the bus. I don’t need to hear them sing either, they aren’t bad at singing but aren’t entirely great either I turn my own Ipod up and drown out the sound with a little ol’ Shaolin Temple of Boom. I’m not the only one that shows distaste for their actions…
The girl sitting across from me, has her feet up on the seat, sporting neon green converse shoes, it’s a popular brand and I’m used to seeing everyone wearing them. Heck, on weekends I sport my own pair of converse sneakers. She has skinny legged black jeans on, and is wearing a Qscar the grouch t-shirt, it looks as though it’s vintage, but these days you can buy those shirts brand new. I think they’re called vintage look wear or something of the like. She has several piercings on her face and ears, including a labret, lips, nose and eyebrow. Her short cropped hair is multi-toned, one side which was flattened out to cover her left eye was black, the other side of her hair, which was styled into short funky spikes was a blonde colour. I suppose she would fall under the category of punk, or emo. It’s all the same to me these days.
The pink/goth/emo girl slams her finger into the little red button labled ‘stop’ and the bus slows down. She sees me looking at her and pulls a strange face, as though she was scared that I was going to jump her and tie her up in a potato sack before lugging her to my abode. I give her a meek smile and a wave, to show that I’m not some deluded abductor. She gives me another quizzical look before hurrying off the bus.
She is replaced by a rather largely set man, I want to be nice about this, but there isn’t any other way to describe him other than extremely large. His mid section spilled out over the seat, his body mass occupying a space usually built for two. In his small clammy hands he clutched a half eaten McDonalds cheeseburger, oozing with red and white, a strip of bacon half a\hanging out the bun. Now I know why they say no eating on the bus, the very image alone nauseated me, let alone the horrible smell. The stench of body odor and fast food mixed together to create a deadly concoction. I winced and turned away, in hopes to get away from this new grotesque being, yet to no avail, I could hear the slurps and munches, as I was listening to a quiet song.
I feel sorry for the businessmen sitting behind him. Clean shaven with suits and ties, they both sported briefcases and sat rigid, participating in that awkward idle chit chat that one can often find themselves in with a stranger. By now the bus was filling, and getting rather stuffy. I wanted off, but alas, my stop was still some way away.
Regardless I found myself watching helplessly, as my hand rose to touch that angry red button…
‘Ding’
My eyes widened in fear, as I just realized that I had pressed the button, it wasn’t my stop, what was I to do? Now normally one would just brush it off, and pretend that they didn’t push the button, after all, someone was bound to get off or on at the same bus stop. I did just this, I sat there, shifting my gaze out the window to watch the people pass. I refused to shift my gaze as the bus came to a stop, I heard a few murmurs around me, but thanks to the soothing sounds of Amy Lee I was unable to hear the subject of the conversations.
The bus still hadn’t moved, and it had been a good five minutes, yet me being the stubborn little thing I am refused to take a gander around me, I just assumed everything was Jake, after all I had an interview to go to, so I had to keep a calm and cool composure.
5 minutes pass
Finally, I take a look around me to find that the bus was virtually empty, and that the bus had broken down, oh what wondrous luck! The murmurs around me were of the girly girls, the fat man, and the businessmen, all wondering why I was still sitting on the bus. I shrugged it off, ignoring the pang of embarrassment I felt and so I hop, skipped and jumped off the bus. Which I think is an amazing feat since I was wearing heels.
Standing at the bus stop, awaiting the next bus.Next to me stood the metal head, the girly girl, the fat man, and the business men. On the other side stood a hippy wiccan, a bogan and a R&b hip hop artist.
Five minutes pass
ten minutes pass
The bus pulls up and I stare at myself in the reflection on the window, I am standing alone. The bus stops, and opens its doors, and we all get on the bus.
The hippy, the metal head, the girly girls, the fat guy, the businessmen, the R&B artist, the bogan and the hippy wiccan.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Shaolin Temple Of Boom -Entwined
A post apocalyptic world, a silent empty world. A shell of its former decaying self. Human existence has been all but obliterated, the skies are painted a burning orange. Reflecting the fiery rage that has been left behind. Your foot-steps echo along cracked footpaths, the sound resonating in your ears. Your heart beats to the tune of anticipation, of denial and of loneliness.
As you continue to walk, the burning sun slowly sets, and the icy cold sets in, and rain begins to fall, an onslaught of water droplets fall down upon you as though they were daggers piercing your very soul, but you ignore that, one thought floods your mind, one being floods your soul.
Her
Her sweet breath, her meloic heartbeat, the silken feel of her skin against yours. You desire and crave it. For if she did not exist, nor would you. For you are two souls, entwined as one.
As you continue to walk, the burning sun slowly sets, and the icy cold sets in, and rain begins to fall, an onslaught of water droplets fall down upon you as though they were daggers piercing your very soul, but you ignore that, one thought floods your mind, one being floods your soul.
Her
Her sweet breath, her meloic heartbeat, the silken feel of her skin against yours. You desire and crave it. For if she did not exist, nor would you. For you are two souls, entwined as one.
As night relents to day
We have nothing left to take
When we were alone
The wheels were left to turn
The sound of sonic booms like waves crashing to shore
Were warm enough to sleep
Tadadadada.....
Won't you wake up
Won't you wake up for me
Won't you wake up
Won't you wake up for me
Nothing left to do
But give my life to you
The sun turns into moon
And orange into black
There are no better days
With nothing at our backs
When we were alone
The wheels were left to turn
(howls at moon)
Won't you wake up
Won't you wake up for me
Won't you wake up
Won't you wake up for me
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Time Lapse Photography
A friend of mine has created some amazing Time Lapse photography that I wanted to share with you all. I think this is amazing and would love to be able to learn how to do this.
I imagine it would take time, patience and a lot of tea/coffee to do such things.
I imagine it would take time, patience and a lot of tea/coffee to do such things.
No tale to tell
Anyone remember Toastman?
Or to further elaborate, Ren and Stimpy?
Or to further elaborate, Ren and Stimpy?
Toastman, was one of the many short, random, brain clenchingly (It's a word now, because I said it is.) amusing segment on Ren and Stimpy. Why am I bringing up toastman?
To be honest there is no real reason, just a simple memory bought up by the everyday conversations me and my friends seem to have on a daily basis.
I suppose I should make this entry exciting, exhilarating somehow, but how does one even begin to do so? Everyone has different tastes in comedy and humor, a simple tasteless fart joke could make one person laugh, and the other sneer in distaste and disgust.
This is just a filler blog, so no tale to tell today.
Unless I tell you all about the party I went to last night, while the others drank away their memory in the shed I was outside in the windy cold of the night talking to the girls dad, quite the entertaining bloke he was.
Or how I had an interview with a real estate agency, and have got another coming up for a legal secretary.
Legal pays more but retail seems just that little bit more relaxed.
Decisions Decisions.
I'm also thinking of changing my blogger theme, the little slide bar at the top continues to annoy me, and continues to switch between a slide bar and a scroll bar. I'd rather it not do that, and if need be I will change my blog to fix that issue.
Why?
Because I am a girl, and we are stubborn little things.
To be honest there is no real reason, just a simple memory bought up by the everyday conversations me and my friends seem to have on a daily basis.
I suppose I should make this entry exciting, exhilarating somehow, but how does one even begin to do so? Everyone has different tastes in comedy and humor, a simple tasteless fart joke could make one person laugh, and the other sneer in distaste and disgust.
This is just a filler blog, so no tale to tell today.
Unless I tell you all about the party I went to last night, while the others drank away their memory in the shed I was outside in the windy cold of the night talking to the girls dad, quite the entertaining bloke he was.
Or how I had an interview with a real estate agency, and have got another coming up for a legal secretary.
Legal pays more but retail seems just that little bit more relaxed.
Decisions Decisions.
I'm also thinking of changing my blogger theme, the little slide bar at the top continues to annoy me, and continues to switch between a slide bar and a scroll bar. I'd rather it not do that, and if need be I will change my blog to fix that issue.
Why?
Because I am a girl, and we are stubborn little things.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Afternoon Delights
This isn’t about my baby and I ain’t gonna hold her tight.
No this little afternoon delight is a bit of pure self indulgence, ever since I started this course, I was looking for a nice little place I could eat lunch at or have a drink at, you know, be a regular of theirs and all.
It’s a strange little dream, or perhaps fantasy of mine to be able to walk into a store, and for the people working there to give me a friendly smile and a wave greeting me with a “Hello Tiffany, want your usual today?” Or something of the like.
I think I have found that little piece of ‘paradise’ see, our lunch break goes for an hour, which I think is rather nice, it gives us time to leisurely wander about the great big city, perhaps bask in the glory of our fair towns Balls.
Yes, you read that right, Adelaide, Rundle Mall, the symbol of this city are two giant silver balls, sitting atop each other, reflecting the suns glorious rays and bouncing them off into the eyes of those who pass by.
Ah, but once again I seem to ramble on and get off topic, righteo.
The little piece of heaven, it’s a place I never bothered to go into before, since I don’t like coffee. But I have been a regular at Gloria Jeans Coffee, that’s right a cute little coffee place. My mind is a very strange thing, as I sit in there and sip at my beverage, my mind imagines that I am sitting in that coffee place, ( can’t recall the name at the moment) that is in one of my favorite web comics, Questionable Content. (I will place a link to the comic here when I get home)
I imagine that Good ol’ Marty is sitting next to me, with an exceptionally divine Dora sitting upon his lap. Then my ever favorite Hannalore will come up to me and would probably faint as I rant about my very unhygienic housemates.Boy oh boy I could imagine her tearing them in two, with a ten foot pole of course, and donning a full body radioactive suit.
But yes, every day, or every other day I venture into Gloria Jeans, and purchase a Regular hot white chocolate wish marshmallows. The marshmallows melt into the chocolate drink and actually add a rather nice flavor to it.One time I drank it too fast, and chocked on the marshmallows. Dear readers, have any of you got a tale to tell about coffee related drama or action?This talk of coffee reminds me of my good friend Jana, so if you are reading this Jana, this entry is dedicated to you.
Peace out.
No this little afternoon delight is a bit of pure self indulgence, ever since I started this course, I was looking for a nice little place I could eat lunch at or have a drink at, you know, be a regular of theirs and all.
It’s a strange little dream, or perhaps fantasy of mine to be able to walk into a store, and for the people working there to give me a friendly smile and a wave greeting me with a “Hello Tiffany, want your usual today?” Or something of the like.
I think I have found that little piece of ‘paradise’ see, our lunch break goes for an hour, which I think is rather nice, it gives us time to leisurely wander about the great big city, perhaps bask in the glory of our fair towns Balls.
Yes, you read that right, Adelaide, Rundle Mall, the symbol of this city are two giant silver balls, sitting atop each other, reflecting the suns glorious rays and bouncing them off into the eyes of those who pass by.
Ah, but once again I seem to ramble on and get off topic, righteo.
The little piece of heaven, it’s a place I never bothered to go into before, since I don’t like coffee. But I have been a regular at Gloria Jeans Coffee, that’s right a cute little coffee place. My mind is a very strange thing, as I sit in there and sip at my beverage, my mind imagines that I am sitting in that coffee place, ( can’t recall the name at the moment) that is in one of my favorite web comics, Questionable Content. (I will place a link to the comic here when I get home)
I imagine that Good ol’ Marty is sitting next to me, with an exceptionally divine Dora sitting upon his lap. Then my ever favorite Hannalore will come up to me and would probably faint as I rant about my very unhygienic housemates.Boy oh boy I could imagine her tearing them in two, with a ten foot pole of course, and donning a full body radioactive suit.
But yes, every day, or every other day I venture into Gloria Jeans, and purchase a Regular hot white chocolate wish marshmallows. The marshmallows melt into the chocolate drink and actually add a rather nice flavor to it.One time I drank it too fast, and chocked on the marshmallows. Dear readers, have any of you got a tale to tell about coffee related drama or action?This talk of coffee reminds me of my good friend Jana, so if you are reading this Jana, this entry is dedicated to you.
Peace out.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
This counts as an entry...right?
Let me start off this blog by saying this:
I nailed my interview like a hooker nails a pimp
I'm not entirely sure how a hooker nails a pimp, but it'd have to be good right?
Right?
I was meant to make a good blog, but Im exhausted, anyhoo, check out the new blog link on the header, my awesome friend Luke, the gay one not the weird one has a blog and its about pokemons.
I will write a better entry tomorrow after I give Kier the good ol' boot
I nailed my interview like a hooker nails a pimp
I'm not entirely sure how a hooker nails a pimp, but it'd have to be good right?
Right?
I was meant to make a good blog, but Im exhausted, anyhoo, check out the new blog link on the header, my awesome friend Luke, the gay one not the weird one has a blog and its about pokemons.
I will write a better entry tomorrow after I give Kier the good ol' boot
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Picture Perfect #1
I did say I would post every picture that was drawn for me in ms paint or a similar program. Keep those pictures coming because I'm begining to post them up, if you have something you want advertised/mentioned with your picture then give a holler and I'll add that too!
Much loves from you all. = Sextastic= chocolate!
First up is none other than my god ol' blog stalker Shado. Ah yes, the crazy ol' kook comments on each and every one of my blogs, I only wish there were more like him *wipes a tear from her eye*
So ya know...why not follow in his stead and comment a lot more, who knows I might end up giving you a present
So shado...expect a present ;D
But yes, here is the picture that Shado drew for me, quite a nifty little critter. I had to make the image smaller, Sorry Shado T_T
I needed it to fit in my bloggy!
Much loves from you all. = Sextastic= chocolate!
First up is none other than my god ol' blog stalker Shado. Ah yes, the crazy ol' kook comments on each and every one of my blogs, I only wish there were more like him *wipes a tear from her eye*
So ya know...why not follow in his stead and comment a lot more, who knows I might end up giving you a present
So shado...expect a present ;D
But yes, here is the picture that Shado drew for me, quite a nifty little critter. I had to make the image smaller, Sorry Shado T_T
I needed it to fit in my bloggy!
KFC
KFCKentucky Fried Chicken,
Why am I ranting about KFC whilst I am sitting here in the training college? Why am I not tapping away at some document that could further my education? Who knows, perhaps I grew bored of typing away nonstop at mindless drivel, or perhaps, and more truer, I have finished everything and have nothing to do.
KFC is a fast food franchise founded by good ol’ fun loving party man, Colonel Harland Sanders in 1952, though the idea of KFC's fried chicken actually goes back to 1930. (Gotta love the almighty Wikipedia for that lovely tid bit of salivating information.)
Reading up on the information, which we know just HAS to be right, since it is on WIKIPEDIA the MOST RELAIBLE source of information on the internet *cough* I have found that the secret recipe of 11 super secret herbs and spices is super locked up tight. In a security safe, deep below in an unknown place. There are only two executives at a time who have the keys and the knowledge to this ‘miraculous’ concoction.
I never really thought about it before, but why would such a recipe be under tight lock and key?Who cares if people know what the crumbs are made of, I for one would still go out and buy KFC even if the recipe was leaked. Yes I can understand it to a point, business wise. Heck if I had a multi-billion dollar recipe I’d probably swallow the paper it was written upon so that none but my inner intestines would ever know what it truly contained.
KFC, being a large corporation, attracts a lot of media attention, both good and bad. The main source of attention being that the corporation tortures Chickens. Now I for one am not na activist, nor am I a *insert opposite of activist here*I honestly don’t really like the idea of any torture, but at the same time I’m not going to run around throwing red paint at corporate executives. Hey its something I might do one day...actually...sounds kinda fun haha!
The point I guess I am making here is that I doubt such a large company can get away with the extremes of brutal torture, besides, the chickens are being killed, they are breed to be killed, chopped up and wrapped in the super secret herbs and spices recipie. Of course they aren’t going to get the royal treatment, why waste so much money if it’s going to die in a few short weeks?
I feel for the little chickens I really do, but today, in this modern fat lazy society of people, what do you want to change? I’m not against vegetarians, but if you don’t like KFC, just don’t go there.
I’m not big on the ‘in the know’ in KFC’s business. Heck, for all I know they really could be very cruel to their chickens, that knowledge, sad to say, isn’t going to stop me from eating there.
What will stop me from eating there is the high fat and salt content. Don’t get me wrong, I love KFC, and I love its crispy strips, but I really hate the grease, bleargh.
One last thing, I hear that KFC is phasing out their Fried stuff and replacing it with this new fangled Cayan grill.A bit Ironic don’t you think?
KFC
Kentucky FRIED chickenNot Kentucky Cayan Grilled Chicken.
How can this be the Colonels new recipe if he is long dead eh?
Maybe they really DID freeze him, and thawed him out in this new age, If I were him, I’d avoid the I-phone. It would Boggle his mind!
Now look at this grinning face, surely the old kook wears a smile that young and old, male and female alike can trust.
And finally, some funny shit I found on Photobucket. Oh Dear! Did I just swear!?*scolds self* Bad Tiffy, Bad.
Bad Link…BAD!Poor little defenceless cuckoo chickens.
Something everyone can enjoy, and coming up on the menu, Cayan grill Guado
Why am I ranting about KFC whilst I am sitting here in the training college? Why am I not tapping away at some document that could further my education? Who knows, perhaps I grew bored of typing away nonstop at mindless drivel, or perhaps, and more truer, I have finished everything and have nothing to do.
KFC is a fast food franchise founded by good ol’ fun loving party man, Colonel Harland Sanders in 1952, though the idea of KFC's fried chicken actually goes back to 1930. (Gotta love the almighty Wikipedia for that lovely tid bit of salivating information.)
Reading up on the information, which we know just HAS to be right, since it is on WIKIPEDIA the MOST RELAIBLE source of information on the internet *cough* I have found that the secret recipe of 11 super secret herbs and spices is super locked up tight. In a security safe, deep below in an unknown place. There are only two executives at a time who have the keys and the knowledge to this ‘miraculous’ concoction.
I never really thought about it before, but why would such a recipe be under tight lock and key?Who cares if people know what the crumbs are made of, I for one would still go out and buy KFC even if the recipe was leaked. Yes I can understand it to a point, business wise. Heck if I had a multi-billion dollar recipe I’d probably swallow the paper it was written upon so that none but my inner intestines would ever know what it truly contained.
KFC, being a large corporation, attracts a lot of media attention, both good and bad. The main source of attention being that the corporation tortures Chickens. Now I for one am not na activist, nor am I a *insert opposite of activist here*I honestly don’t really like the idea of any torture, but at the same time I’m not going to run around throwing red paint at corporate executives. Hey its something I might do one day...actually...sounds kinda fun haha!
The point I guess I am making here is that I doubt such a large company can get away with the extremes of brutal torture, besides, the chickens are being killed, they are breed to be killed, chopped up and wrapped in the super secret herbs and spices recipie. Of course they aren’t going to get the royal treatment, why waste so much money if it’s going to die in a few short weeks?
I feel for the little chickens I really do, but today, in this modern fat lazy society of people, what do you want to change? I’m not against vegetarians, but if you don’t like KFC, just don’t go there.
I’m not big on the ‘in the know’ in KFC’s business. Heck, for all I know they really could be very cruel to their chickens, that knowledge, sad to say, isn’t going to stop me from eating there.
What will stop me from eating there is the high fat and salt content. Don’t get me wrong, I love KFC, and I love its crispy strips, but I really hate the grease, bleargh.
One last thing, I hear that KFC is phasing out their Fried stuff and replacing it with this new fangled Cayan grill.A bit Ironic don’t you think?
KFC
Kentucky FRIED chickenNot Kentucky Cayan Grilled Chicken.
How can this be the Colonels new recipe if he is long dead eh?
Maybe they really DID freeze him, and thawed him out in this new age, If I were him, I’d avoid the I-phone. It would Boggle his mind!
Now look at this grinning face, surely the old kook wears a smile that young and old, male and female alike can trust.
And finally, some funny shit I found on Photobucket. Oh Dear! Did I just swear!?*scolds self* Bad Tiffy, Bad.
Bad Link…BAD!Poor little defenceless cuckoo chickens.
Something everyone can enjoy, and coming up on the menu, Cayan grill Guado
Monday, September 21, 2009
A little bit of Freddy
Well, I am writing from my work/course yet again, it seems like I am easily distracted no?Today, I just got offered a job at a legal firm as their receptionist. Cool huh?Well…not really one of the things I said I didn’t want to do was be a legal secretary, but I’m not one to shoot a gift horse in the mouth, sides it is an immediate start which is what I want, since I want to get as much money as I can as quickly as I can, so I can visit my Brandon.So, ya know…if anyone has any tips on how to rig the lottery short of buying every number combination possible I’d like to hear it!
Right now I am so spaced out; I keep waking up with massive migraines and severe abdominal pains. It’s probably not good and seeing a doctor would be advisable but I’m as stubborn as a mule on decaffeinated coffee, and probably won’t go unless I’m twitching on the floor screaming out things in tongue.
Now, what was this journal entry going to be about?I guess I could prattle on a little bit about RPG maker VX and how it has nestled itself quite happily in the warm bosom of my desktop. Longing for the sweet caress of my mouse pointer as it seductively hovers over the icon, the program, shivers in anticipation as it knows that its about to be ‘clicked’
Then, like a series of fireworks lighting up a dark blanket of midnight sky, the program known as RPGmaker VX bursts into life, splashing tiled colours across the screen in a neat little window, petite and glowing with a childlike innocence that most have long forgotten.
Now here, is where the choices of life affect dear little Freddy (Formally known as RPGMaker VX) Freddy, can be opened up anew, his mind a blank slate ready and waiting for you to imprint your own ideals onto him. He awaits you with arms wide open, and emits a glorious cry consisting of various MIDI’s and MP3’s as you softly caress his outer exterior. You both tempt and play with each other, learning the ins and outs and figuring out the best possible way for you two to work together.Finally, after much temptation and exploring, you delve deeper and deeper into Freddy, opening up new ideas and new possibilities, finding new ways to accomplish what you never thought possible!
…Yeah…
I need sleep, or at least need to go back to focusing on my work, I should really leave the computer and work on my manual book keeping but its such a pain, to be honest I’m really procrastinating on it.So catch ya laters all.
Oh and Luke;
That fish Really didn’t want to be caught. Get it…because you had to REEL it in. Get it! REELY…REEL! …Cause you had to REEL it in!
Friday, September 18, 2009
Insert Cool Blog Here
That's right folks, in just under 4 hours a cool new blog will be inserted here, in the meantime why not reflect back on the past entries I have made, parhaps bask in the warm glow of the computer screen. Curled up with your favourite mouse and keyboard combination.
or,
perhaps if you are using one of those laptop doofangles you will find yourself lightly caressing the nub or delicate touchpad of a mouse. Either way, you are sitting here, and you better be damn well enjoying my lack of a blog entry.
Funny though, how a lack of entry miraculously turns into an actual entry. Once again, Im at work stuff, sitting here in good ol' computer Room 1. AKA ROOM 6!
6...
such a sexually stimulating number, I'll six you in the seven anyday ;D
Speaking of sexual numbers, this is for my awesome friend whom I wish I could see more of,
'101100101010101011010101'
If anyone can actually tell me teh binary for sex, do so. I will then memerize it (or pretend I did)
and shout it with an ecstasy filled cry as I lunge, no THRUST my body towards you, my fear sweet Apricot, Courtney.
or,
perhaps if you are using one of those laptop doofangles you will find yourself lightly caressing the nub or delicate touchpad of a mouse. Either way, you are sitting here, and you better be damn well enjoying my lack of a blog entry.
Funny though, how a lack of entry miraculously turns into an actual entry. Once again, Im at work stuff, sitting here in good ol' computer Room 1. AKA ROOM 6!
6...
such a sexually stimulating number, I'll six you in the seven anyday ;D
Speaking of sexual numbers, this is for my awesome friend whom I wish I could see more of,
'101100101010101011010101'
If anyone can actually tell me teh binary for sex, do so. I will then memerize it (or pretend I did)
and shout it with an ecstasy filled cry as I lunge, no THRUST my body towards you, my fear sweet Apricot, Courtney.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Much ado about doing things?
My, it has been a long time since I have written a journal entry, this is due to a varied number of things.ProcrastinationsicknessMental issueswork stuffsYes, that’s right work stuffs, right now, as I type this I am sitting on a computer with a fancy little LG monitor set upon a poorly maintained hard drive. I am at Stones & Muirden Business and Training Centre.Right now I am meant to be working on Excel spreadsheets, but I can’t really continue my work till my teacher/boss marks off the previous spreadsheets, since the next consolidation tasks I need to do involve editing and stripping down the ones I have already done.
Ah, so that about sums up what I have been doing today, eating CHEDS and chocolate, and staring blankly into space trying to figure out what to do.Feel free to send me an email while I am here, I’d happily read it since I’m bored with everything else.When I get home I need to remind myself to create another Journal entry about those who were kind enough to make me paint pictures. I’d love it for more people to do so, I love getting those little things, and to Courtney, Shado, Luke…and I think another person sent me one too…can’t remember right now…Thanks for sending me your pictures. It makes the Tiffy happy.
I suppose this entry will be quite boring, I had a lot of nifty little moving grooving pictures to show you all but alas, they are at home sleeping in the monstrous belly of my laptop.Speaking of which, I have yet to name the young lass/ladette. Perhaps I should hold a competition or suggestion majiger of sorts for you all to discuss and compete on naming my new laptop.
My old one was named Gladys because she was a stubborn old biddy who never listened to me and wouldn’t move or run if she was too hot or too cold. If she was running for long periods of time she would get confused and open up one program when I told her I wanted another.Ahh the days I spent with Gladys, may her old soul rest in peace.
I still haven’t made a blog about me and my awesometastic friend Courtney and our adventure into the city, it was so long ago now too. I really should write about it, I might do so tonight when I get home, so wow, I’ll be writing a good 5 journal entries today, perhaps I should spread them out so that I have one a day for the next few days. Makes me look less lazy.
The RPG maker one, that’s still coming up soon too, I have actually put my RPG maker game on sorta hold at the moment, I must say though, I love how its coming along. I’m making it for a dear friend and awesome brother of mine, Tsunami. If he doesn’t like It I need to king hit him over the head with a decomposing fish.
Well this here now is well into two pages in Microsoft Office, so perhaps I should leave it here and say adios?
Oh, I would like to say, Operation Beautiful, you are awesome and are the result of the break room being covered in little bright post-it notes. They have been there for a week and no one is moving them, that makes me feel oddly accomplished.
Ah, so that about sums up what I have been doing today, eating CHEDS and chocolate, and staring blankly into space trying to figure out what to do.Feel free to send me an email while I am here, I’d happily read it since I’m bored with everything else.When I get home I need to remind myself to create another Journal entry about those who were kind enough to make me paint pictures. I’d love it for more people to do so, I love getting those little things, and to Courtney, Shado, Luke…and I think another person sent me one too…can’t remember right now…Thanks for sending me your pictures. It makes the Tiffy happy.
I suppose this entry will be quite boring, I had a lot of nifty little moving grooving pictures to show you all but alas, they are at home sleeping in the monstrous belly of my laptop.Speaking of which, I have yet to name the young lass/ladette. Perhaps I should hold a competition or suggestion majiger of sorts for you all to discuss and compete on naming my new laptop.
My old one was named Gladys because she was a stubborn old biddy who never listened to me and wouldn’t move or run if she was too hot or too cold. If she was running for long periods of time she would get confused and open up one program when I told her I wanted another.Ahh the days I spent with Gladys, may her old soul rest in peace.
I still haven’t made a blog about me and my awesometastic friend Courtney and our adventure into the city, it was so long ago now too. I really should write about it, I might do so tonight when I get home, so wow, I’ll be writing a good 5 journal entries today, perhaps I should spread them out so that I have one a day for the next few days. Makes me look less lazy.
The RPG maker one, that’s still coming up soon too, I have actually put my RPG maker game on sorta hold at the moment, I must say though, I love how its coming along. I’m making it for a dear friend and awesome brother of mine, Tsunami. If he doesn’t like It I need to king hit him over the head with a decomposing fish.
Well this here now is well into two pages in Microsoft Office, so perhaps I should leave it here and say adios?
Oh, I would like to say, Operation Beautiful, you are awesome and are the result of the break room being covered in little bright post-it notes. They have been there for a week and no one is moving them, that makes me feel oddly accomplished.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Quick Updates
Ok, I was meant to post about my weekend spent with the ever fantabulous Courtney and our "Operation Beautiful' Adventure.
But...
That hasn't happened yet, to be honest there is just far too much on my mind at the moment, but rather than complain about how I'm stressing and worrying more than a Drama Llama I shall bring you this instead:
Three Armageddemon, a bitch of a Digimon.
According to my dear, dear friend GAY LUKE he is death. Death on a deathstick covered in firey demons.
He didn't use those words, but the words he is probably using are far from G, they would branch all the way into R, and if ratings could go over R, they would be over that rating.
Also, he drew me a picture:
While I was waiting for that picture to upload Photobucket showed a video ad for JC Penny, never heard of the store myself. (Go firugre) But it showed everyone in school in stylish, hip clothes and dancing on catwalks.
Since when did everyone dress in the same style at school? Since when did the school canteen become a runway?
Some things, I will never understand.
Ok, so in the future there will be a blog about my weekend day in the city with Courtney, and a blog about RPGmaker, and a blog about stuff...
I will end this by saying:
I want paint pictures D:
I want one from all my readers! Pweese?
All my readers...
Guess that means you Shado, hop to it! I'm your boss so I command you do it!
But...
That hasn't happened yet, to be honest there is just far too much on my mind at the moment, but rather than complain about how I'm stressing and worrying more than a Drama Llama I shall bring you this instead:
Three Armageddemon, a bitch of a Digimon.
According to my dear, dear friend GAY LUKE he is death. Death on a deathstick covered in firey demons.
He didn't use those words, but the words he is probably using are far from G, they would branch all the way into R, and if ratings could go over R, they would be over that rating.
Also, he drew me a picture:
While I was waiting for that picture to upload Photobucket showed a video ad for JC Penny, never heard of the store myself. (Go firugre) But it showed everyone in school in stylish, hip clothes and dancing on catwalks.
Since when did everyone dress in the same style at school? Since when did the school canteen become a runway?
Some things, I will never understand.
Ok, so in the future there will be a blog about my weekend day in the city with Courtney, and a blog about RPGmaker, and a blog about stuff...
I will end this by saying:
I want paint pictures D:
I want one from all my readers! Pweese?
All my readers...
Guess that means you Shado, hop to it! I'm your boss so I command you do it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)