I do not understand

There are a great many things I do not understand. Sting and the meaning of life aside, I can make neither head nor tail of:

Nude tights
I just ... why?

Pepper grinder fillers
You can get a thing to cut an avocado into dinosaur shapes and something else that turns an everyday apple into an exact replica of the moon, but there is apparently no little thing that helps you fill your pepper grinder without spilling peppercorns on the cat's head.  Adjustable cone. That's all I'm saying.

Vaginal washes

"Intimate wipes", special soap and squirty stuff for your ladyparts, etc - I am mystified. Not critical and not dismissive, as I am sure there are some irregularities/disorders/illnesses that make odd smells come out and that can often be a sign of something else being awry, and I am definite that some ladies worry far too much about it because someone has told them they should, but every day? Really? Why? 

I do not get it. In fact, I fear a problem being invented (or exaggerated) by the marketing johnnies to 'make a quick buck' out of ladies fearful of their own ladysmells. (Regular readers will be aware that I have had some issues with my own ladyparts in the past, mainly involving mint-based substances, but they were not 'vaginal washes', no: one was chewing gum, the other, minty shower gel; the final, green wax administered by a firm Dutch lady.)

Compliment slips
I don't understand why they don't have actual compliments on them*. Imagine it: you open up a letter from your solicitor and there it is: name, address, phone number, fax number that never works and a tiny little line top right: "You have a fine mind", or "Your haircut suits you well", or "You opened that envelope nicely".

Margarine or 'spreads'
Why? (See 'marketing johnnies', above)

Cockroaches
I am too scared to Google them because I do not want to see a picture of them, but I do not understand why they exist. Apparently they serve no purpose, but that doesn't make sense either.

Being wilfully selfish
Like the lady in the hairdresser on Thursday who knew I was waiting, but kept yakking on about shampoo for 10 minutes, or the other lady who dragged a step next to my head (surprisingly, I was stretching, i.e. lying on the floor sticking my legs out, after a 'work out' in the gym) and then stamped up and down it shouting "et UN et DEUX et TROIS et QUATRE et ... CINQ! ET un ET deux ET trois ET quatre ET cinq!" at the top of her stupid voice whilst spraying me in her ladysweat.  I just don't understand that sort of thing.

Tea in countries that are not Britain
Why are they scared to put in the teabag in the pot for you?  I am not going to get all cunty about "oh bloody foreigners what do they know about making tea!!!" (they don't care, that's what) but I really do not understand the logic of letting the water cool down a bit before you put the 'tea' (often recycled pot-pourri) in the pot.

The cost of my dinner in this hotel tonight
Steak, vegetables, glass of wine: $56. It is just as well I am not paying for it. Also, there was a cock on the plate that I did not order.









What don't you understand? I am not talking about algebra etc - NO-ONE understands that so no point worrying about it. I am talking about everyday things that you don't understand: that don't work, or don't make sense, or have a point, or an apparent purpose.

Come on! What have you got?

NWM



* Do not steal this idea from me. It is my pension plan.

I would like some minced chicken

I explain

I am travelling about a bit at the moment, mainly to Toronto - a place that I am now fond of and think is interesting, partly because I know it better, but mainly because my Best Friend (Canada, First Class) lives here and she has shown me why it is good: quite big, a bit villagey, got shops in it, got a lake, parks, everyone speaks English, nice muffins, etc.

Because I am officially "from Montreal" (despite actually being from London, England, not London, Ontario), I am supposed to hate it and say that it's boring, although since this this campaign came out, I think I will be more honest about my growing affection for Toronto - a fact that I keep hidden on the whole, despite designing a smashing new logo for the city (with matching 'apparel' available at my really very shite online shop). 

Anyway, I digress. I am here because I have an eye on Autumn, when I will have my residents' permit that will allow me to work for Canadian companies in Canada, and that means 'meeting people' now and then to have a chat with them about work-related things. So far, everyone I have met has met all the criteria I so expertly laid out in the post below; I am therefore hopeful about a well-balanced and pleasant future in which I work with people I admire doing work I am good at.  But for the time being, if I fall silent now and then and make comments about people in airports/conference calls etc, you will know why.  You should also know, however (and I know this news will be met with a huge scream of relief) that I remain - as ever - essentially non-working (in my heart). 

I have come to a conclusion

Regular readers will be aware that I am currently literally non-working, what with stopping doing my job in March and all of that.  Ten peaceful weeks have passed, and now it is June: unidentifiable birds squawk in the slightly common pink cherry tree outside the window; noisy young men, too old to be on a skateboard, crash up and down the street and the neighbour's fucking dogs, whose owners I blame for everything, are silenced by the underhand yet strangely brilliant ultrasonic bird house, which emits a noise that only they can hear; a noise activated by their barking, and silenced by their non-barking.

As time passes, I am beginning to understand that I was right (which will come as no surprise to you, my adoring readers and/or fans), for my general belief - fashioned in my own mind as I was preparing to resign - was "fuck it, get out of this, then everything else'll work itself out" and, miraculously, everything does indeed seem to have worked itself out.

Time has passed. What was frustrating and irritating is now just something that happened once, and I have come to the conclusion - one that everyone else in the world has probably already come to - that I require the following for happiness in the workplace:

1. Work with people who are not twats (and who swear)
2. Be allowed to do my job without having to get into chitchat about politics and all of that
3. Not have to be in the same place at the same time every day without (very) good reason
4. Be able to take pets to work, inc. marmosets with golf balls
5. Not have to spend half the day making a listening face when in fact am thinking about biscuits
6. Have time to do the other stuff I like doing, inc. 'accidentally' watering the heads of people walking under the balcony.

On this final point (i.e., point number 6), I have realised something everyone else probably already knows.  I like a) cooking; b) writing; c) making stupid films feat. talking bears with giant heads.  But being 'successful' (i.e. paid for them, or recognised as being good at them by other people) doesn't matter, because (ta-dah!) the only important thing is that I like doing them, whether I'm good at them or not. (Just as well, frankly.)

There is no doubt that I would very much like to be paid for writing and making films featuring bears with very large heads (I would not want to be paid for cooking as do not want to do washing up etc), but that is unlikely. In the meantime, when I can, I shall be a "freelancer", able to work in my pyjamas at 5am in the morning, if I so wish, and able to write my web-blog and cook things in full business apparel at 3pm in the afternoon, if I so wish.

I think I have cracked it!!!

Pip pip!

NWM

P.S. Even if you do not speak French, you may find this film - in which some French Canadians laugh themselves hoarse over a gigantic clam - diverting.

I am honoured in tin foil

Yes. It is true. This afternoon, following a call for suggestions on the Twitter, the magnificent Belgian Waffle fashioned many accessories from tin foil using her own hands and imagination (and, presumably, a roll of foil).  Amongst the articles created was a foil fez, suggested by me in a highly original and comedic style.  I am sure you will agree that it - and she - is magnificent.

In other news, I will soon be doing something about smells that smell like smells, gaffer tape and another Bad Boss Blockbuster (but not all at the same time).  Too much excitement in one go, I am sure you will agree.

Pip pip!

NWM