Thursday, April 30, 2009

Women and Anger, Flu and Fish

W & A

I have anger management issues. I don't consider it that bad because I'm ruthlessly in control of them.
Mostly.
But I am angry.

Having said that, I'm also quite happy, a thin veneer of contentment that looks like a seething tide of resentment to everyone else.

I thought I should consider professional help last week, when I was queuing up at the bank. I was stood away from the vast main queue, in the Business Customers Only lane (just myself and the chap in front, as opposed to the main queue's twenty.) Both of us stared at an empty seat, preferring that to aggravatingly slow-moving main line to our left.

Five minutes of seat staring later, I began to get restless. This was exacerbated when a man walked in and decided to start his own queue, bypassing myself and the guy in front of me. I stared at the back of his fat, bald head as my nostrils flared.

'Keep calm, keep calm', I intoned. 'He might not get served before me.'

That said, he might, and that must not happen. The queue is sacrosanct, and I was damned to hell and beyond if I was going to wait in a building for, now, 7 minutes, only for some chancer to wander in and get served after 1.

And then he got served. I was still standing behind the guy staring at the chair when fat, bald chancer casually stepped up to the teller.

'Oi!' someone yelled.
Me.
'Don't even think about it!'
'What?' he asked.
I yanked my iPlugs out.
'What do you think we're doing here?' I said, pointing at myself and the man in front. 'Waiting for a bus?'
'I only have to hand this over,' he yelled indignantly. I became vaguely aware of the main queue staring back.
'I don't care,' I said. "We were here first. Now get to the back of the queue."

As I turned round, I saw three more people stood behind me, people who'd arrived after fat and bald.

To my surprise and complete relief, he did so, muttering dark curses in his wake. The gentleman in front of me was thus served, while I stood at the head of the queue.

I was less pleased to discover the stunning black goddess who works there take the empty seat, presumably on the orders of a more senior teller now that the customers were beginning to yell at one other. I was flustered and my chest was pounding - truth be told, I hate confrontations - but I began to get worked up again as I watched her not call me forward any time soon.

I fidgeted, and tried to keep calm. I looked down and saw my tight black coat pulsate with the rhythm of my racing heart. I flared my nostrils some more and stared at the now filled seat.

The Goddess had a slight grin on her face. Motherfucker. She was randomly pressing buttons on her keyboard for as long as it took.

The guy formerly stood in front of me finished up and walked off, and I approached that desk. Turning round as soon as I got there, I watched Goddess summon over the person who had been stood behind me.

I clearly am the Antichrist.

I had a less angry but equally unpleasant lady rebuff a few days later. It had gone 5pm at work, and my colleagues and I are known to shut up shop and bring pints in from the neighbouring pub to sup at our desks in the final hour. Said pub is staffed by a rather stunning barperson from LA, all frilly hair and tight jeans and a figure sculpted by the gods.

And she hates me.

We first saw her at Christmas. We had a work's meal nearby and retired back to the pub where the less enlightened and rather sexist males of our party dribbled at her all night while I kept quiet, silenced mainly by their braying catcalls.

Ray, our office youngster and cockney scamp, was basically blind drunk, yelling at her face that she was rather attractive, which I noted she took with good grace. She then proceeded to serve other customers while Ray yelled to us that he'd like to bend her over and hang out the back of her.
'Ray!' I admonished as I felt my personality desert me. 'She can hear you!'

I have since been greatly amused on the occasions that I've gone back to that pub and barlady serves me in a manner that can only be described as hostile, giving me what I like to call the Beamscowl.

The Beamscowl is a very quick manoeuvre starting, as one would presume, with a glowing, radiant beam. She had this on her mug as she was walking away from a chat with her previous customer. Then she turned to face me.

Hello, scowl.

It was like I'd dangled shit from a pole and shoved it into her face. I am that shit.

'Why?' I've oft pondered in those bleak, lonely moments at four in the morning, 'am I actually considered lower than the drunk bloke in the pub making sexist comments, even though I was the one who told him off???'

Perhaps it's for these reasons that I'm back in touch with my lovely New Yorker ex-girlfriend - that, and because I miss her.

I was treated to a bizarre lesson in time differences last Monday, when we emailed around midnight London time. I said I was off to bed. She said she was out to 'party'.

When I woke up, I switched on my computer and fired up my email. She'd just got home, drunk, and decided to call me for the first time in years.

That was a strange one, waking up on a weekday before showering for work, to take a call from someone who'd spent my whole sleep-time getting bladdered.

F & F
I am sick and tired of hearing about this global piggy pandemic. I've barely recovered from the financial fistfuck we're all in.

I was cynical about the mass-media news before. Now I'm out-and-out disgusted. Yes, it's serious. Yes, we should be alerted to it. But the media the way it is, it's fast becoming the End of Days, and it's bringing me down.

All I can think about in the years to come, if any of us are still solvent and alive, is that 2009 will be remembered as Armageddon. I'm still waiting for the newsflash that four cackling horsemen have been spotted in the sky, probably above Romford.

In an interesting aside, my Mum called me today. It appears that my stepbrother has been holidaying in the eye of the storm, in Cancun. And in keeping with the hurricane analogy, he's been so close to the action that he actually had NO IDEA ABOUT THE PANDEMIC.

And if anyone has any faith in our government and their bullshit promises that the UK is phenomenally well prepared, you may be interested to know that my stepbrother landed in London where all the passengers had to write their contact details down - on the back of their sick bags.

They were then told they would exit the plane into a holding bay where they would not come into contact with the any other people.

Cue their walking into the airport and smashing heads against every departing and arriving passenger on Earth.

But my favourite part is the fact that my surly and miserable stepbrother is currently locked in his house for a week. His mother had to deliver shopping to his front door, and call him to open up once she got back into the relative safety of her Honda.

And finally, fish. My beautiful, sexy new suit, all ready for Jimmy's wedding on Saturday at which I'm Best Man, has been hanging up in the neutral smell of my hallway, far away from the nicotine playground that is my bedroom.

Imagine my surprise this evening, as I walked up the stairs to my flat barely even near our front door, I smelled the telltale stench of fucking haddock. My Large Northern Flatmate chose to stink out our gaff through the medium of dead aquatic vertebrates, while my beautiful sexy new suit sucked it all up.

It's currently in Large Northern Flatmate's room, hanging up near the window. It now smells of cheap Adidas deodorant, and despair.

With a hint of pussy.

19 comments:

daisyfae said...

on the bright side? it's said that the greatest female attractant scent on the planet is the scent of another womans bits.

might help get you nailed at the wedding. suggest you close that window...

Blue soup said...

Go and clean the toilet with his toothbrush. Two wrongs don't make a right but it might make you feel better.

Girl Friday said...

At least one of your rooms smells or has recently seem VaJayJay. Like a real one and not one on your computer screen. Also, re: the Anger Management, I am seriously convinced that living in London allows you to have these types of out burst about once a quarter. I shouted at some poor Chinese man the other day in the Tube station as he clearly didn't get the whole concept of English queueing. He tried to bypass the very long line of people behind me in hopes of passing through the Oyster barrier before the others. Poor bloke had no idea what to do when I asked him exactly WHAT he thought he was doing and was he blind to not see the whole ream of people waiting to get through. Difference between you and me, I am afraid, is that I felt good afterwards. And in my head all the people behind me were secretly cheering. My brain is like a bad American movie.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Bloody queuing. Thats why I get so frustrated when I go abroad - NO ONE QUEUES. They bundle. Imagine a Spanish bank. HELL.

blueskies2day said...

I get sooo irrationally angry if I see someone pushing in front of me in a queue. I am very very impressed with your shouting, and I wish I could do the same thing, instead of feeling the veins in my forehead getting bigger and bigger as I Englishly float further and further towards a repressed-anger embolism.

Megan Rose said...

1. People are fuckers. (My patented interpretation of 'Hell is other people'). (Used very liberally in the course of my day-to-day life).

2. Maybe hanging the suit in the bathroom when you have a shower might help? Or maybe it'd make it worse? Good luck with that.

Dandelion said...

What a lovely baby!

Anonymous said...

This flu scare is a red herring.
It's to distract us from the fact the bad guys have won the lot/loot.
Just behave the docile keyboard slave , grateful you're barely alive.
And take it out on the other little people around you.

The quarantined guy, is he your stepfather's son by a first marriage?

digressica said...

I don't think people say this in your comments enough, or at least I don't: you are a great writer. And this little collection of life detritus is some of the most engrossing stuff I've read from you recently. I never stop reading your posts halfway through, and I have a rather short attention span.

Homer said...

I love your writing, but you're a twat for that last sentence.

As much as you bleat about hating being single, it's the only possible state for a straight man who idolises unavailable strangers (to a quite insane degree) but secretly thinks that fannies smell of fish. You sound like a 14 year old.

nursemyra said...

nobody queues in Vietnam either. they do that same bundling thing that PDEWYMO mentioned

and what's all this about vaginas smelling like fish? mine smells like gardenias. and so does daisyfae's

looby said...

Very strange about the Beamscowl. Had that myself. I absolutely cringe when I hear men making those sorts of remarks and have recently broken off with a semi-friend simply because I can't stand the way in which he goes into pubs and deludes himself that pretty girls half his age are interested in a pissed-up 40something scruffbag (I mean him, obviously, not me, I'm a style model for North Lancashire and Southern Cumbria). Totally unfiar that you get the cold shoulder for it though.

And pints at your desk in the last hour! Any openings there?

Cheryl said...

Oh my god, if everything you write is as hilarious as this post, I so look forward to following your blog. Thanks for the laugh.

fwengebola said...

df ~ I don't even know how to reply to that. The scent of a woman attracts... women? May explain where I'm going wrong, mind.
Soup ~ Now that I like. He may get offended though.
GF ~ That's enormous. Firstly, I intend to use Va-Jay-Jay at every given moment. Secondly, I think all the people I've 'told off' in the past barely deserved it. The real scumbags seem to get away with murder. Quite literally.

I don't know what I mean by that. PDEWY... Jo ~ Reminds me of when I was in a bank in India. I was VERY ACTUALLY at the teller's desk being dealt with, when people stood either side of me began thrusting their slips and whatnot at the teller - who them proceeded to serve them instead!
This, apparently, is normal.
My reaction wasn't.
BS2D ~ Hello. Try a yell. I recommend cocooning yourself in iPod music to take you out of the silence of reality beforehand. That helps immensely.
Mr ~ 1. People are motherfucking scumbags, but I couldn't live without them, like an abusive partner I'm in denial about. 2. Shirley the suit/ shower tip is good only for uncreasing creases, not desmelling smells?
Ah, what do I know.
Dand ~ *coo*
Anon ~ You're preaching to the converted there.
And yes, stepbother is Stepfather's son. And I'm aware I left out an 'R'.
Dig ~ *blush* Thank you very much. I'm always humbled and slightly perplexed about praise. Especially as I felt this post to be a little lacking. But thank you again. You are lovely and mad.
Homer ~ Ah, criticism. That, I can handle. I don't idolise strangers to any degree. I just notice some women, some of whom I see once a week, and think it would be nice to copulate with them in a reciprocative scenario.
But you're right about the fish. I've never thought Va-Jay-Jay (thank you, GF) smelled piscine in any way, but it seemed to 'gel' at the last minute.
I'd take it down, but I won't.
Nurse ~ Hello. Look, I rescind my fish comment (a bit) in my rebuttal above. All Va-Jay-Jay's smell of gardenias. Even joggers'. Better?
Looby ~ Trust me, you don't want to work at my company just because we can trot next door and bring back a pint once a week.
Now I'm worried I'm on the verge of being the old bastard who could chat to women in pubs and look pathetic.
Cheryl ~ Ah, hello. Welcome to hell. It doesn't get much better than this.
It doesn't get much better at all.

daisyfae said...

it's easy math, fweng... nothing is as attractive to a woman as a desirable man. right? how do we define "desirable"? Other woman owns his ass... *snap*

luna said...

In Italy they say women who don't like fish don't like sex.
At least you'll weed out the ,hum ,cold fish!

And yes,all vaginas smell of putrid fish except at ovulation time,it's normal,it's an early evolutionary anti rape device.

fwengebola said...

df ~ Holy shit, that is genius! All I have to do now is smother myself in female juic...

Oh.

Lune ~ Well they would say that. They're Italian.
And once again, I apologise for the fish comment.
Jesus!

luna said...

I wasn't being sarcastic,lol,or is it just me ???

fwengebola said...

Perhaps you're the cause of the rumours.