It is very rare for me to write about a truly serous subjects but some topics are so important that they must be discussed. The question I am about to ask might be the greatest question ever asked in the history of question asking. I advise that the weak hearted amongst you stop reading now.
The debate created by this question will send shock waves around the world as faction who support opposing theories clash in open displays of violence. Lovers will be torn from each others arms, families will be split apart and countries will be divided. The very fabric of reality might even fall apart. However, despite these dangers this question must be asked and more importantly, this question must be answered: Am I ginger or blond?
On the surface this might seem like a simple question but underneath it is a raging sea of complexity and confusion. When I was a young child there was no denying my identity as a ginger. I could have easily been mistaken for a walking and talking carrot but over the years my hair colour has faded and become lighter. I continued to call myself a ginger but recently other people have started referred to me as a blond. Then, when Tess from Thoughts and Such asked what it was like to be a ginger I suddenly realized that I did not know how to answer her question.
Could it be that I have been living a lie? Am I no longer a ginger? Am I an outcast amongst my own kind? Am I no longer allowed to use the word ginger under the reasoning that I am ‘taking it back’?
It’s up to you to decide:
Whenever someone suggests having ‘just one beer’ after a day at the office everyone knows that what they really mean is this; “Let’s start with just one beer and then proceed to drink more, much more.” The person who makes the suggestion of ‘just one beer’ might not even be aware of what they are really saying but they are saying it anyway.
It is not long before ‘just one beer’ turns into two beers, then three, four or five and eventually finishes with you stumbling home, falling asleep on your couch and spilling beer on yourself when you were attempting to watch repeats of Law and Order that you were far too drunk to follow the plot of anyway.
Despite this risk myself and a couple of work friends decided to go for ‘just one beer’ last Thursday evening after work. However, one member of our group wanted to go home instead. I tried to convince him that he should join us for ‘just one beer’ on the grounds that if he didn’t he was a pansy and not a real man. Despite my persuasive and logical argument (which lasted for several minutes) he was not convinced and returned home instead. The rest of us went for ‘just one beer’ at a local bar.
The following morning I over slept. I over slept quite badly. I had to phone someone at the office and ask them to let the rest of my department know I would be late. I phoned the person who had not gone for ‘just one drink’ with us. Considering I had called him a pansy the evening before this turned out to be a mistake. When I arrived at the office I discovered this email had been sent around the department:
“You could have just told them I over slept,” I told him after I read it.
“Did you really just over sleep?” He asked.
I paused for a second before replying, “Yes, I simply over slept.… because I forgot to set my alarm.… when I stumbled to bed.… after waking up on the couch.… because I spilt beer on myself.”
Law and Order is a very confusing show when you are inebriated.
1) If you are using an empty coke bottle to clean your brushes while painting never put the full coke bottle that you are actually drinking from with in reach. If the watery paint taste does not make you realize your error the paint brush hitting you in the back of the throat will.
2) The tutors don’t appreciate it when you drink all of their coffee and it is hard to hide guilt when you are really hyper.
3) Toy frogs are good at politics.
4) If you are making a life size dummy for a project never ever leave it hanging in the studio over night to dry. Security will really freak out when they see it through the window in the middle of the night and think a student has hung themselves.
5) If you put your bake potato lunch down on your chair while you clean some space on your desk for it, what ever you do, don’t sit down.
6) If an attractive girl asks you for help with something find out what it is before you say yes. Having your eye lashes dyed brown is not worth it, especially when you don’t end up getting her phone number anyway.
7) Never agree to play strip poker if you are so drunk that you think you are about to play black jack.
8) Never drink the punch at the pre summer ball party. You’ll only wake up in a corridor, wondering how you got there and why your vomit is fluorescent pink.
9) If a tutor falls asleep during the lesson he is giving, there is no harm in letting him sleep for a little while.
10) Keeping score of how many times a tutor says ‘er’ or ‘um’ during a lecture is fun but you might not be able to stop your self cracking up and being found out when they break the 200 mark.
11) Be quick with the alt + tab keys so tutors don’t see you playing solitaire when you should be taking notes.
12) Never ever take the bare wires from a computer fan, stick them in an electrical socket and turn it on. If you do, don’t be surprised when there is a very loud bang (not me).
13) Never use the disc sander to sand a peace of wood the size of a coin. It takes a while for the skin to grow back and they have to change the sand paper (also not me, the same not me).
14) Never super glue a doll on the ceiling above the desk of the girl with a doll phobia. If you do, don’t be surprised when she gets very, very angry.
15) No one died in the old studio theatre, it is not haunted and it is wrong to tell the new students that it is.
16) Never super glue your fingers together, especially while doing number 14 (it makes it harder to hide your guilt).
Believe it or not I graduated student of the year and had to give a speech at the graduation ceremony. The audience was laughing a lot but the college deans were not to happy that I turned it into a stand up comedy routine.
It felt like I had been lost behind enemy lines for hours. I was tired, hungry, losing light fast and my ammo was dangerously low but I refused to give up. I had to complete my mission. However, my luck was about to come to an end.
I ran through the foliage into a clearing and everything suddenly changed. I was surrounded. Guns were pointed at me from all directions. I counted at least eight of them. There was no way out, no escape, no hope. My mission had been a failure. I had been defeated and I was about to get covered in a lot of paint.
There are a few things I have discovered when playing paintball:
1) Do not eat the paintballs.
2) I am not Dirty Harry, Neo, John McClane or John Rambo (but it is fun to pretend).
3) The Matrix slow-motion double back flip while shooting two guns is not as easy as it looks.
4) Never ever get surrounded. Especially by members of my own team.
After I found myself surrounded the events that followed probably took place with-in a single second but in my mind the scenario played out in slow motion with ‘Barbers Adagio for Strings’ playing in the background to highlight the tragedy.
There was the moment of sudden panic when I burst through the foliage into the clearing and realized I was surrounded. Then, quick relief when I saw the blue arm bands which indicated that these fine soldiers were members of my own team. I had not been defeated after all. I had found my way back to friendly territory. I could relax. I was safe.
Unfortunately, it seemed that my entire team was colour blind and they did not notice that I was also wearing a blue band around my arm. By the time I realized something was wrong it was already too late. There was a confused moment of silence which was suddenly broken by my rather loud and long screams of painful colourful language as my brothers in arms opened fire upon me from all angles (some hitting me in ‘sensitive’ areas). One shot was not enough either apparently and my trigger happy comrades continued to fire until I was completely covered from head to toe in bright green paint.
Even when they realized their mistake and finally stopped firing I continued to do the ouchy dance of pain and sing the non-edited version of the, “You dam idiots!” song which probably gave our position away to every enemy with in a 10 mile radios in the process.
I like to think that even John Rambo would have reacted in the same way had he been in a similar situation.
Since I can occasionally be a very accident prone person it might seem like an unwise idea for me to own a Fiets (bicycle) as a primary mode of transport. However, when I first moved to Holland it quickly became clear that I would require one in order to blend in with the locals who like to terrorise pedestrians and jump traffic lights at every given opportunity.
I did not have to look far for my two wheeled transport since my company was nice enough to give me one for free. However, they did not provide any training wheels or cycling lessons.
While riding my bicycle for the first time, I realized that the breaks were not situated on the handles where I was used to seeing them. This coursed a bit of a problem since one of the things you need to do quite often when riding a bicycle is stop. I soon discovered where the brakes were hidden when it was time to stop. By that I mean I discovered where they were after screaming, “Where are the brakes,” and crashing into a near by wall a few seconds later.
Afterwards, I was informed that to break all I had to do was push backwards on the pedals. This took a few attempts where I nearly launched myself over the handle bars before I was used to it.
I’m happy to say that I have not had any similar experiences while riding my bicycle since… until today.
As I cycled to the train station this morning along my usual rout I turned a corner to suddenly and unexpectedly be confronted with a street blocked by road works. I was already too close and peddling too fast to stop in time. I had no choice but to try and make it through to the other side.
I skilfully swerved to the left and avoided falling into the first pit. Then I daringly dodged to the right and just missed a collision with a road sign. Finally, I quickly jumped over the second pit and landed smoothly and safely on the other side. I looked back as my heart raced and I continued to peddle, amazed that I had made it through with such skill. It had been a spectacular display of daring stunts and acrobatics that would have made Evil Knievel jealous.
Then I looked back in the direction I was going, screamed like a girl and nearly decapitated by riding into the PVC tape barrier that was blocking the other end of the work site. Luckily the tape snapped before it catapulted me backwards off my bike and into one of the pits.
Maybe owning a bicycle is not such a good idea after all.