Strange Nikolai

not a stormtrooper

Archive for the tag “hate”

What I hate today… menial workers

Is it politically correct to say Menial Workers? Do I care about political correctness? Not really, but I do care about being mean… this is not a class thing, I don’t hate all blue-collar type workers, there are specific people that are driving them up the wall, and they just happen to fit into the menial worker category…. or do they? I just thought of another person…

So. What brought this up? I hear you asking with baited breath and a sense of eager expectation normally reserved for those special nights when you know you’ll have the house to yourself and have found out the PIN code for the adult channels… Nothing quite that exciting I’m afraid – just this.

Every day, at work, I go to go to the loo. I walk maybe 100 metres down the corridor. And the toilets are closed for cleaning. Every. Day. Not every time I want to go to the toilet, just once each day. Around 1pm. Now before we explore the ‘what-the-fuck’-edness of this, let us address the concern that I may be meticulously time-planning my toliet breaks. I’m not. I usually go to the loo just before or after eating my lunch (don’t worry, I wash my hands), and it’s one of those weird co-incidences that whenever this happens, I look at my watch and it’s 1pm.

So back to the WTF!?! I like that our toilet is being cleaned every day, but who’s fukcing BRILLIANT idea was to time that for the middle of the work day. Around lunchtime. Every other office I have worked in has been cleaned after hours. This works for me. They have a job to do, but with just a little thought, they could make their job more efficient and not fuck with other people’s day.

And this is where I think, well yes, but why do you suppose they’re a cleaner in the first place? People who can think can generally get a better job…

Apply this same thing to glassies at a bar (if there is liquid in the vessel and someone sitting next to it, DON’T fucking pick it up), store workers at an electronics shop (if you don’t know the answer, DON’T fucking lie to me – I will come back and complain and yell in your ugly face until it makes me feel better), and supermarket workers (just ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!) – not to mention bus/train drivers etc..

Hence the menial workers. But maybe I should have said “stupid lazy non-thinkers” in general. Because there are people in EVERY office I have worked in who drive me insane in the exact same way. These are the people who leave passive aggressive notes about not being your mother and cleaning your own coffee cup, and complain to anyone who will listen about how they fill and turn on the dishwasher every day… which they invariably seem to do at what time? Around 1pm. So, anyone eating lunch later than that CANNOT fucking put their fucking dishes in the fucking dishwasher because the fucking dishwasher is fucking turned on. Oh, and if there are no plates left and the dishwasher is on then you don’t even have the option of washing one for yourself. Oh well, I’ll just eat my hot soup out of my hands…

People are stupid. But I am happy.

Strangely Nikolai


Some things I hate today…

I have a few things on my hate list today. I am filled with rage. Well… not really. Mostly I’m filled with blood and internal organs. And to be quite honest my current mood is one of mild annoyance. If I had a mood ring on, I think it would be puce (It’s a colour. No really).

Lesser men might save each thing for it’s own individual hate post, but NO! I will vent all of my hateness in one extended vomitoria (it’s latin. And probably conjugated wrong. meh.). This might mean you will only get one blog post from me in the next week, but you know what? I didn’t promise you anything. Just because I updated lots in the first week. Surely that happens with every blog. You can’t tell me what to do, YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MOM!! (and if you’re wondering why I spelled that the American way – i.e. wrong – when I’m clearly not American, it’s because I’m being ironic. And in case you don’t think that’s “ironic” kindly fuck off read this link which explains that I can use irony whatever way I like. Nah nah nah nah nah naaah).

My first hate for the day is the Loser Cruiser. Otherwise known as the bus. Public transport. I know, I know, complaining about public transport is so last millenium (I bet that’s the first time you’ve seen that phrase in 9 or 10 years. Stupid millenium), but I had thought I’d got past the phase of my life where I would need to catch the loser cruiser with all the other… well, losers. I thought I was finally better than them. But I’m not. Ever since some dickwad stole my moped and broke it into pieces. It already had a flat tyre and a broken taillight – who steals a broken bike?? How do you even do that??? Ironically, the tyre and taillight were two things that had been fixed when I got the pieces of my bike back – but they broke the headlights and the seat and the starter motor and the wing mirrors and a whole bunch of other crap.

And what’s up with bus drivers? You’d think that as that is what they do all day, they might actually get good at it. HeeeEEELLLL NO! (you have to imagine that as if a Jamaican was saying it). You basically get two types of bus drivers; The old and slow. They’re old. And so so slow; And the fat and mad. Stomp that gas pedal fatty, then brake as hard as you can, go around corners as if you’re in a slalom race. It’s ok, I wanted bruises from the “safety” bars – and I didn’t know the crazy “lady” sitting next to me well enough, but now we’re basically married. Anything to get you to your McDonalds quicker.

My second hate of the day is Spring. Fuck Spring. I’m talkin bout the season, not some newfangled sex toy. All new Fuckspring. Bounce bounce bounce your way to new heights of lovemaking. In theory, Spring is wonderful. Gambolling little lambies, flowers blooming, warm weather with the occasional sunshower. Bull. Shit. It warms up for a couple of days just to trick your internal thermostat to go into summer mode and then it’s fucking cold again, and pouring with torrential rain. Spring is the primetime for man-flu. And all the new flowers and crap don’t exactly help out there. Fuck Autumn as well. Autumn is the same crap the other way around.

My third hate, and this is a hate I’ve had for a long time. This is no temporary hate that may ebb and flow like the tides. This is a permanent hate like the sea cliff that all those lemmings hurl themselves off in their agony at the cruelty of the world. Lemmings are so emo. And it is this: People who don’t pay attention to what is going on around them. I kinda hate that I don’t have a more succinct way of putting that so I will have to acronym that shit. PWDPATWIGOAT. Hmmm, I like the goat bit at the end, but I can do better than that. TWAATS. Those Who Aren’t Aware of Their Surroundings.

You KNOW who I mean. The people on the street who stop to talk while effectively blocking anyone from getting past, or walk five abreast (or two abreast if it’s mothers with prams) and go so slowly that you just want to scream. The people in the club who do not realise they have dumped their  “Gucchi” handbags on the main thoroughfare to the bar or the toilets – and then get annoyed when you step on them and break their GK sunglasses. The people on the bus – and this is where all my RAGE for the day culminates into one big whiney feel-sorry-for-me moment – who do not fucking realise that having the window open on the left side of the bus means the right side of the bus gets the draft (the air goes to the back and around – it’s not rocket science), and also don’t realise that perhaps when everyone is shivering and wearing jackets it may be too cold to have the window open, even when it is Spring, and especially when the person opposite has the FUCKING MAN-FLU!!  Although I think it was an actual cold this time because my fiance also got it and it put both of us out of action for basically 3 days.

Rant over.

Strangely Nikolai


What I hate today… black socks

Today I hate black socks. Racist. Who you callin’ a racist? You. Well, me. And you, where you = me. For all youse, where you equals me, I hate you. No I don’t. I hate black socks. Confused? Me too. Maybe I should actually edit my thoughts before spewing them out onto the page…. nah…

Disclaimer: this post may be filled with ramblings that have no connection to your life. Actually, you could replace the words ‘this post’ with ‘this blog’ or ‘my life’ and the statement would still be true.

So why do I hate black socks? Is it some national sports team ala the All Blacks, the Black Ferns, the Black Sticks etc… (or for american peeps Red Sox)? Or is it crazy-young-person-slang for something hateful? No. Actually the Black Socks does refer to the New Zealand softball team but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about socks that are black. If you clicked on those last two links I feel sorry for how boring your life must be. I mean, I would be curious enough to hover over them, but once I saw they were just wikipedia links to “socks” and “black” I wouldn’t go there.

So “Why?” I hear you ask. Why are you hating on hosiery items that do not reflect any light in the visible spectrum? The thing is, it’s often not so much the socks themselves, but all the things they represent, and all of the challenges that come with that. I’m wearing black socks today – I don’t particularly hate this pair of socks, but I do hate some of my pairs of black socks.

This is getting confuzzled. Ok, here are two things I hate. Like really really hate. With a burning passion. Actually, more like things I avoid (with a burning passion). 1) pairing up socks. 2) wearing suits to work. 3) elastic bands that cut in. So if you put all 3 of these two things together you get – black office socks. Which for some reason always have stupidly tight elastic at the top that cuts into your ankle (as an aside, I apparently have huge ankles. Not fat, like cankles. Just ginourmous ankle bones. I can’t comfortably wear roller blades (Oh no!), so I would never survive as a gay man in Los Angeles), and they are impossible to find a match to in the washing basket.

So I’m gradually throwing away my black socks. Why gradually? Why not throw them all out in one go? Well, two reasons. Firstly, I’ve already washed them so that seems like a bit of a waste. And secondly, taking off my socks at the end of a long, hard day (well… a ‘day’. I won’t pretend I work hard. How long have I been writing this blog already? And it’s almost my lunch break…) and throwing them straight in the bin makes me feel like a bit of a rock star. Oh yeah. I can afford to throw my socks out each day. That’s right. I’m fucking gangsta.

And fuck the man for telling me what I can and can’t wear to work! Are you my mummy that you feel the need to dress me? Fuck off bitch, just cos your fashion sense runs to the uptight-power-mad-bitch-who-feels-like-she-has-to-push-people-around-so-they’ll-respect-her-authority (UPMBWFLSHTPPASTRHA – acronym of the week). I’ll wear dress pants, but a jeans style cut. I’ll wear shirts, but funky shirts. I’ll wear leather shoes, but the most sneakery leather shoes I can find. And I’m not going to wear black socks anymore! Oh yeah. I’m starting a revolution.

Colourful socks. How sad is that? I’ve just realised I’m becoming ‘that guy’ in the office.

Strangely Nikolai

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