Prior to the launch of this website I had several bookface pages that acted as my brains waste outlet and home to occasional witticisms.
One was for lack of a better term a rant page. It is still up, and I will not be sharing the name of it. As an artist, I naturally hate everything that I create. And as a writer, I naturally hate everything I create.
So the page not only offended my artistic side because it was basically just enraged cerebral flotsam, but also my inner writer because I hated it and others seemed to love it. Anyways, it’s like a hidden easter egg of awful lying destitute and unattended in some far off corner of the great social interwebs.
And the only reason I couldn’t be bothered updating it for a long time is because I kind of ran out of steam on ranting and tried to be more productive with my use of words.
It’s Olympics time! That terrific event that lands upon us all every quartet of years where we come together as a world in peace and unity to see which country has the best funded athletics program and doping protocols.
You can see amazing feats of human achievement such as the beards on the 16yr old female Russian weight lifters, the exposed tibia and fibula of French male gymnasts and the latest in cyborg technology from the Americans because Phelps is TOTALLY a real living breathing human. Nothing sus there at ALL. (Honestly, I don’t believe for a second that he is a drug cheat. Nuclear fusion reactor in his chest fuelled by grilled cheese sandwiches? Yes. Drugs? You’re overestimating their advantages.)
But my favourite part about the Olympics is the fans of the women’s beach volleyball.
Let me be clear. I don’t like sports. They bore and annoy me. The fact that people are paid million dollar contracts to chase a ball around a field for a living, literally playing a game to earn money, while I can’t get my fucking kid in to a paediatrician in this god damn state because none of them are taking new patients on account of the fact that the government isn’t funding paediatric care correctly so all the good doctors are either moving interstate or just becoming GP’s and STILL being booked out round the clock, while Nigel Bumfuck of the West Coast Who-gives-a-shits, who is in possession of the miraculous ability to run and bounce a ball at the same time is getting a free house, car and a six figure income makes as much sense to me as a dropping my testicles in a blender for a quick thrill. (When I get angry, grammar and flow get disrupted, fucking sue me.)
Back to the knob jockeys and their volleyball.
The Wif was telling me about her day, she was in the lunchroom, the men’s gymnastics came on, she was understandably intrigued by the athleticism involved, but also because they’re somewhat sexually appealing chaps I imagine. (Not my cup of tea, too much penis.)
Her and some co-workers were enjoying the scene when, from the back of the room, Sporty McSports fan, lover of all things footyball scoffs ‘Put the ladies beach volleyball back on!’
I don’t want you to think I’m one of those tumblr loving blue haired feminazis but this might sound that way so, sorry.
I’ve known a lot of dudes like this. When the very smallest, teeniest thing comes along that could in some way shape or form throw question to their sexuality merely by association due to general proximity, they throw the testosterone into high gear and slam their foot down on the pedal.
Full man mode.
Punier weaker men are thrown aside as their gargantuan testicles shred their pants, their breathing rumbles like a V8 supercar mixed with AC/DC guitar solos. The room fills with the smell of beer and strippers and women for miles start to feel an undeniable allure, an animal magnetism towards this man of men. Chairs scrape across the room as they’re drawn towards him against their will. No, not animal magnetism, PUSSY magnetism.
Because he’s ALL man. PURE man.
He’s not into these fancy-foo fag-nasty pseudo sports, he’s into REAL sports, MAN sports, like whacking a little red ball with a flat stick, or running around kicking a ball from one end of a field to another. Occasionally broken up by watching some chicks play a sport that is just as boring as tennis but with more ass and tits.
Which you can get for free on any porn site using your mobile phone located in your god damn pocket!
Nope, these type of guys don’t wanna watch your foofy little excuses for sports like men’s gymnastics. What kinda poof do you think he is? Watching another bloke in a singlet and full pants do backflips and other bad-ass ninja shit? Sounds like a sport for cock gobblers.
Give him a pack of sweat covered, fit young blokes in tiny little short shorts and singlets running around in groups, shoving and grabbing at each other, groping and hugging, their hairless greasy bodies sliding against each other in a desperate struggle to get hands onto balls. Now THAT’S a real MANS sport!
Calm the fuck down sunshine.
The sooner we all admit that majority of sport is a useless endeavour the sooner we can progress society in the right direction and start colonising mars or some crap.
Then again what do I care, if watching people kick balls while you sink half a slab is your idea of fun then who the fuck am I to deny you.
Do what you enjoy with your life. Just ease up on the super man crap, nobody honestly gives a shit which way you swing. And those that do are probably miserable in themselves.
Fuck it, it’s way to large an issue to summarise at the end of a rant.
I just wish I could get my child in to see a doctor so she doesn’t cry every time she has to take a fucking shit.
I wrote this wearing nail polish on my pinkies.
Deal with it.
(And that’s why I don’t really do rants anymore.)