WTF Factor 6

What: The Star Trek: Next Generation DVD Menus

Where: In some kind of warp bubble, created by Wesley Crusher's experiments

How: I'm guessing Ferengi.

Is there anyone out there who doesn't know I'm watching Star Trek at the moment? That my favourite catch cry is 'Grow a beard, Riker'? Because if you are one of those people...then I'm sorry. I haven't been trying hard enough. I mean, I went out and bought the ENTIRE set of ST: The Next Generation dvds. Because I couldn't wait to find out what happens to them. I needed to know!

One thing that has been a constant source of confusion however are the menus. Specifically, the fact that they're usually stupidly hard to navigate. Considering I usually watch these eps at around 11pm or later, this is UNACCEPTABLE to my tired brain.

The episodes are in a jumbled order! It goes 175, 178, 177 and 176! I watched the one about Picard's brother and their quaint little English accented French vineyards before I watched the one about the stupid idiot child who makes dog noises! Sure it kind of made sense after the whole Borg assimilation thing, but...rarr! I want a pure progression of episodes, not this organic higgeldipiggeldy!

Wait, is it spoilers if its from something that happened a decade ago?

Anyway. This is not just a one off! They're fucking around with continuity all over the shop!

 

I think the DVDs are testing me. They know I'm formally a 'Wars not Trek' person. They can sense it. So they're testing that I can handle the pure science of Trek with a little observational exam. 

Well FUCK YOU, TNG DVDs!  I'm on to you!

Pros:

There are no pros besides the part where I can just press play and ignore this affront to continuity.

Cons:

Unsequential, eye hurting colours, bizarrely misleading short preview images. The stuff of nightmares!

Continuity: *

Confusion: ***

C-words Said: **

 OVERALL:  **

I'm not impressed, Mr Crusher.

I am exceeding your expectations just by being here!

What: My Performance Review At Work
Where: Meeting Room 1, which has Golden Compass posters
How: With great justice. And a pen that doesn't work.

The reason I embraced being made redundant nearly 3 years ago was because temping means never having to say you care, or that you're sorry. Neither does it mean performance reviews. I was in love with that world and it was a golden age. I never had to deal with that horrible sinking feeling of being judged by the people who pay you.

UNTIL TODAY.

I know. Tragic. I can hear you weeping from here.

Today's performance review was for a job which, let's be franks and beans here, I have little fondness for. The form I had to fill out in traditional convoluted corporate cockery was, as I predicted, bizarre. KPIs needed to be commented on. (The assistance I received after the fact was 'just rewrite what the KPIs say'. I really wish I knew then what the hell KPIs are. Lordy child, I was calling them Kitten Piddle Indicators and abusing my cat for meeting them a little TOO well). I managed to circumvent this by writing all kinds of claptrap. Example:

I always make a point of attempting to immediately action an issue, even if it's just to clarify what the problem is and what needs to be done to satisfy both the customer and us. Most problems/queries can be sorted out within 10 minutes, I've found, whether by asking what the customer wants, making sure it's practical and correct, then fixing it. In the case something can't be fixed immediately, I make a point of getting an email address or phone number in order to keep the customer appraised of what is going on. I always make sure they have my contact details, so they can hassle me if they feel the need to. I have no problem dealing with upset customers and I make a point of being as polite and helpful as I can, even when they're antagonistic.

 Ohhhhh re-he-eallllly, me? This is what you do all day? Well done, madame. Well done.

So with enough panic in me to destroy a small discoteque, submitted my self appraisal (like wanking, but with words!) and then followed my manager into a small room adorned with the airbrushed visages of both Nicole Kidman (bleh) and Ava Green (*drool*).

It was not a horrible farce reminiscent of Amy Winehouse's live performances while Blake was in jail (though I wish my hair could have been that big). It was pleasant, easy and about as scary as having to tell your loved one you have a hemorrhoids. Which is not so bad. I mean, the husband survived that one pretty well.

My one negative comment? My TARDIS. I mean, tardiness. (I actually thought my manager said 'TARDIS' and nearly spazzed in my pants. If my one problem was that I kept a TARDIS under my desk and the noise was bugging people, I'd be ShutTheFuckUpNoob'ing everyone and disappearing in my next lunch break. Alas.) I need to be here no later than 9. And the creepy thing is, I PLAN TO DO THIS.

Ha! Listen at this wanker…

I am always ready to help in any project or problem that might be affecting the whole team, and I enjoy taking on extra work when it involves doing something different to my day to day stuff.I have a better understanding now in how my job fits in with everyone else's job, and how I can help them. I make sure I pass on any information that will help them/us.

 What a dork. Next she'll be saying she can't wait for the new system so she can implement new processes! (I did actually say that.)

Pros:
I feel good because I did…good. I don't know how I went from someone who really doesn't pay attention to or do anything with her job to someone who gets an 'Exceeds Expectations' on her review. I might get a bonus at Christmas. I feel like I'm living in an episode of The Jetsons. (George Jetson is the only person I know who ever got a 'Christmas Bonus') Who knew I had this corporate citizen inside me? Also, didn't mention net use. Double plus good.
Cons:
I think I may have passed a kidney stone, a la Al Swearengen, through stress in the lead up. I hate these things. And AND AND, I'm slightly miffed that I am good at a job I don't really like. That I am taking charge and being positive. Wasn't I meant to be doing something other than this? (I realise this con is a bit of a cop out)


Performance: ****
TARDIS: n/a :(
Productivity: ****
OVERALL: ****
I'll make sure to fix my TARDIS sir.

I can't quite see what you did there

What: Poor Eyesight Meaning I Have To Wear Glasses
Where: All up in my eyeballs
Why: Astigmatism in one eye, general breakdown in the other. THANKS FAULTY GENES

Man, they have bad eyesight in the future (thanks to screenrant.com)

I only really noticed how bad my eyes were 2 years ago, when I was trying to read the destination on a tram coming right at me and DIDN'T NOTICE IT WAS COMING RIGHT FOR ME. This was a slight problem. Amazingly, the glasses I'd had since 2003 didn't work so great anymore. What's up with that, technology? Can't you evolve yet? Why the hell not! Anyway, one optical upgrade later and I can see things, when I wear glasses all the time. (OMG mega nerd face) This is something I have been AGAINST since I was about 14 and had to wear horrible cheap frames that were akin to John Lennon's round hippy glasses but with less potsmoking cred. And on a plump girl with blah coloured hair, it was less hippy cool and more neon sign saying 'Is Four-Eyes The Best You Have? C'mon!'. We all have our traumas.

My eyesight seems to be made up of blurs, phantoms and too much effort. If I don't wear my glasses I get weird shit happening all up in my peripherals. Like, shadows moving, imaginary cats running across doorways, sparkles…or I could just be batshit crazy. We'll never determine that, so shut your face. This can be both fun or scary, depending on how bad my paranoia is (thanks to watching the X-Files as a young girl, it's pretty damn bad. That show only encouraged my weirdness). The sparkles are nice though.

The only problem with the world being a blur past 3 feet is that I can't watch TV, precious precious TV, without squinting. It's so bad, it's like racism. When I'm drunk, it's not so bad, as really, I'm just seeing what I want to see when I'm 12 sheets to the wind. Usually, that means I think I'm seeing my husband holding out a giant box of hot chips and spicy sauce, when all he's doing is informing me it's my turn to sing on Guitar Hero. Weird.

There also seems to be some kind of weird time lapse thing going on. When I wake up in the morning, I have obviously forgotten I can't see for shit and can wander around, get dressed and presentable for the outside world (okay, I can get dressed) and get on correct public transport. But as soon as it hits 9am…BAM! BLIND, BETCHEZ! Happens on the weekend too. I can get up at 8.30am and have half an hour of blissful ignorance and then SLAM! Music videos are being viewed by what looks like four inches of Vaseline. Which just turns everything into a Donna Summer visual remix.

Pros:

So we have a 3 feet radius of pure, shocking, truthful, horrible clarity and the rest of the world is seen through the kind of gauzy curtain usually reserved for softcore Vampire porn. This can lead to the both embarrassing or awesome instances of not being able to recognise your own mother from across the street (ahaha, accident! I swear) and the brilliant excuse of 'Ohhh, no, I didn't see. Don't have my glasses on' which is quite useful when you want to avoid someone. Other fun things include: fireworks being extra pretty through blurriness, getting people to read things for you while you look at something else more interesting.

Cons:

Having to wear glasses. Srsly, I know that some people just dig glasses like whoa, but I am not one of them. Not on me anyway. I put on my glasses and I immediately feel like I've regressed 15 years. Another con is taking your jumper off and getting your glasses tangled. Or, having dirty glasses, which is more annoying than not being able to see in the first place. And also, lensflare. Not as bad as the New Star Trek movie, but close.

Convenience: **

Excuse Use: *

Facial Enhancement: minus *****

OVERALL: **

Sure, they help me see shit in the distance, but really, do I need to wear glasses? Can't I just get CLOSER FFS? Okay, FINE. I will wear them. Sons of betchez.

Dropping a whole lot of friends off at the pool

What: Diarrhoea

Where: Work

Why: I'm guessing a combo of spicy sauce, vegies, iron tablets and bourbon

Time: Just after lunch, for 10 minutes

Cost: About $2.40 in wages earned in the duration

I totally worked out how much I was paid to evacuate my bowels for 10 minutes continuously. This is not a good sign.

Anyway, yes, this review is about the stream of poop that just came out of me. Before you freak out, yes, I did do this in the toilets. I did make it, gosh, I'm not 3 years old.

In a happy twist of fate, the toilets were empty the entire time and I didn't have to resort to reabsorbing - that horrible ability to hold in a poo so long that you no longer need to do it, thereby 'reabsorbing' the troublesome turd, usually only done when you're in a work/friends house environment where the sheer embarrassment of having this noxious assbomb ready to blow is enough to make your sphincter clench and draw back like an offended Southern Belle.

The consistency of this dump was pretty runny. I've had worse, but this was fairly nasty. Didn't need to strain, but it felt like pure lava at some points and I was completely relieved when it was over. I feel like I've lost half a kilo. Strangely, no urine. I thought that was impossible but there you go. The was plenty of toilet paper, I had the 'bigger' cubicle so I didn't have to sit with my legs primly crossed to conserve space. Also, big bonus, it didn't smell all that toxic. To me. Lord knows what's going on with anyone in there now.

Pros:

This was a chance to get the hell away from my desk, AND I didn't have to share the smell with anyone or reabsorb. I had enough paper, didn't feel pressured to get back to work and didn't have to deal with a death smell that would have made me vom. Also, no post farts. Win.

Cons:

There's nothing like having a stream of digested eggplant, spicy sauce, rice and last nights not quite cooked hamburger coming outta your arse. I also have a slight sickie feeling in the guts. Bleh.

Consistency: *

Belly cramps: ***

Burning: ***

Smell: **

Clean up: ***

OVERALL: ***

I've had worse, specifically After Grog Bogs, but this was a fair deposit. Feeling much better that it's over.

Slipping into something a little more comfortable...

What: Bright Red Tights

Cost: $15 US / $18 AUD

From: welovecolors.com

Size: EE/ Very Fat Arsed

An inspired 'Oooh, it's Spring' moment this morning (read: I couldn't find my black tights) prompted me to pull out this new purchase and pull them on…right up to my underboob. Oh yes, I am THAT sexy. They truly are electro red. Usually a favourite of girls on their way to their grandmother's house in the woods, or happy little elves busily constructing toys that will be lovingly placed under a tree come Christmas, red tights are always a fashion risk. You don't have much option but to wear them with either a LOT of colour (ew) or black. I chose, and will always choose, black. For I am the Blunch Black of Blacktradame. Or perhaps I'm a recovering Goth.

But they are seriously retina burning, considering how good my calves look after all the exercise I've been getting lately (running late for work, attempting to practice mounting horses, inventive sexual positions) I think they look pretty good, yo.

The material itself is lycra somethingsomething (sheesh, facts, whatever) and the stretch is incredible. INCREDIBLE. And the material is soft, like stockings made from kittens. And, bonus points, my unshaved leghair doesn't poke through. They don't sag (seriously, they're up around my tits. If they sag, I have ISSUES) they haven't torn like so many other coloured tights, and the gusset isn't sitting around my thighs, repelled by my crotch.

The only real problem I do have is the up-around-the-bra-ness. Oh, and the fact that I have to buy them from America. Srsly, Australia, we have heaps of fat people here, it's not like you look around and only see…wait, ok, fine. But I for one would like places to stock fat arse stockings. Good ones. That don't cost $25 and come from Myer in black, black and unflattering pattern black. So while these are pretty cheap and I know from experience they’ll last a good long while, I'd KINDA like some CONVENIENCE here. What do you want me to do, get off my arse and DO something about it? Sheesh.

So lets rate the shit of these tights. For the sake of this being the first evar rating, remember this is out of 5 stars.

Durability: ****

Colour: *****

Stretch: epically over *****

Price: ****

OVERALL: *****

Yeah, I'm rating high betchez. I know, I'm a tramp, but these things are awesome. I am walking on radioactive sunshine. Dig it.

Epic Mission Statements are for Chummmmps.

This was going to be a rant station, but seeing as I seem to collect negativity like fucked up ceramic animals, I think this is going to be my much thought about review blog.

Sure, I'll intersperse it with EPIC RANTS OF EPIC, but I like reviewing things. It's fun. I can be nastypants without…well, there's no without.

I have no specifics for my reviews, so it will be everything and anything. Train trips, movies, games, paper. Whatever. HOW CAN I GO WRONG, YO?


Stay tuned with your bunnyears and tinfoil hats.