65Ogle Deprivation.
God damnit.
This, is what is wrong with society today: People put to much emphasis on one particular thing. So much in fact, that the other particulars become quite neglected, dusty, almost on the brink of expiry due to the misplacement, or should I say, hogging of the emphasis. This injustice, this complete and utter felony against ones so deserving and ones so yearning, is unforgivable. Society should open its eyes…it should change its focus from which celebrity threw up which type of chocolate cake and which Oasis band member said which swear in front of which member of the royal family to showing the freaking drummers! That's right, there, I said it, I want to ogle the drummer! 'Tis a rarity these days for the camera to linger long enough on the drummer of a band to allow you to do a full analysis, memorise the every curve of their bone structure, how their dark hair curls softly over their shadowed eyes...'scuse me, just a tad flustered here. Moving along, the cameras are obsessed with the singers, even if they are painfully ugly "goth" dudes attempting to sing a pop song to an even mildly passable standard and failing. Dismally. Where as, there the sexified drummer is, muscle bound arms flying in all sexified directions, personifying talent, being the rhythm, oozing sexifiedness… and yet, the camera focuses on the whiney "goth" dude with the huge forehead and bad hair.
The outrage continues.
Ladies and gentlemen, you have entered a new chapter. That's right, chapter, of 'Quasi Essays of the Mad and Unhealthy'. But with a new air, this particular installation shall have a fresh focal point, that focal point being questions and injustice. The injustice was the introduction to the questions, the questions and my version of the answers shall be your conclusion and no, you will not believe I have ever watched Star Wars. This is not a mind trick. Cactus. Biatch and censorship.
Why? ::slap:: ow - the mysteries of the answerless.
I like asking questions. I hardly care if it makes me look evil or unbelievably extinction threateningly stupid. You see, I never grew out of that stage of:
Ma: I'm going to the super market.
Little Ann: why?
Ma: because we have to eat.
Little Ann: why?
Ma: because we will die if we don't and death isn't good.
Little Ann: why?
Ma: because God doesn't like you.
Little Ann: …
Ok, so it wouldn't really go like that. Ma would probably glare me into submission and I would go off and continue my evil shenanigans of death with my cats. Although I enjoy asking questions nobody really answers them unless they are logical. My questions are hardly ever logical. So I usually have to come up with ridiculous theories to explain them: hence my many theories. Isn't it just such a coincidence that a woman's menstrual cycle lasts for 28 days and so does the moon's? Not that the moon has a menstrual cycle, I mean we'd know if it had a menstrual cycle…I don't think I'm the only one in the room now thinking about planet sex, giant tampons and blood rain when the moon forgets her panty liners. Anyway, now that I have you attempting to rid yourself of possibly traumatising pictures of planet mating habits on the Discovery Channel I shall continue with the original focal point: the mysteries of the answerless. Like for example, why the bloody hell I am writing another "essay" after a 3 hour English exam which solely consisted of non stop essay writing. I've said it once and I'll say it again: I'm a damn fool.
Why do married couples get divorced/separated?
Now although this is a seemingly logical question to ask, there seems to be no logical straight forward answer. My parents are separated, so this allows me to take the absolute piss out of the reasons for the break-up of marriage…because, I am hurting, and need release. Ehem. Ok, we've all done those brainless giggly games which consist of matching your name up to your hubby's to find a percentage of how well suited/unsuited you are to each other (if you haven't, damnit just humour me). Of course, I still play them because I'm a dick and like making myself laugh at inane combinations with high percentage answers. Below is an example along with instructions on how to play so get ready for theory number one, biatch:
The Love Test – part 1:
Hilary Wood
Loves
Samuel Casidy
Number of 'L's: 2
Number of O's: 2
Number of 'V's: none
Number of 'E's: 1
Number of 'S's: 2
2212
2 + 2 = 4
2 + 1 = 3
1 + 2 = 3
433
4 + 3 = 7
3 + 3 = 6
76%
Oh, looky there boys and girls; Numericy skills really are useful in life.
If you didn't get the process of getting the 76% and if you didn't already know: you are normal. Hilary and Samuel had been going out for about 3 years before they got married. They were in love and enjoyed to snuggle on the couch while watching "The Office" and laughing at the news readers as they tried to create the illusion of genuine banter. As you can see they had an extremely healthy and normal relationship. But, 5 years into their marriage they both became restless and began to snap at each other:
Hilary: there's no more romance in our marriage.
Samuel: that's because it's all gone to your ass.
Samuel: why don't we snuggle anymore, Hilary?
Hilary: because my arms don't fit around you anymore you obese goon!
Ok, so I focused a lot on the fat issues but as the fat bastard said: "I'm unhappy because I eat, I eat because I'm unhappy. It's a vicious cycle." It symbolises the unhappiness of their marriage: each and every fat particle screams for happiness, screams for release! What went wrong you ask? They used to snuggle for god's sake! I know my sweet, I know. But it's a sad fact that marriage may potentially DESTROY a relationship. It is deceitful how marriage is portrayed as the ultimate relationship, the ultimate settlement, a stable happiness because it absolutely is not! No wonder more and more people are becoming defacto couples, they know marriage's danger and corruption. Why you ask, why Ann, WHY!? Well, in the words of Hear'say – the perfect example of unadulterated failure – it's "pure and simple". Marriage in its most pure and most simplest traditions can destroy even the most concrete and loving relationship just by one crucial alteration. The alteration of names. That's right, names. No, I'm not talking about embarrassing pet names like "pumpkin poo" or "mafia kitten" I'm talking about the legal side of marriage the majority of couples decide to use. As you will know, most women when they get married change their last name to their husband's (I'll quickly emphasise the word "most" before I get reviews telling me to get my head out of my ass) the reason for this I'm not quite sure of; I presume it goes way back to where status and families actually mattered but lets not go into that, I'm not here to educate you, I'm here to bullshit you. So by now, if your brain is quite capable you may have already come to the conclusion I am about to propose: changing sir names screws up the percentage suitability one has with their partner. That's right, and as The Love Test is the shizna, and frequently meets with fate etc. to discuss matters of love, war, and irony it is only logical to conclude that by acquiring another's last name you are jumbling the numbers and therefore altering the percentage. Yes, this jumbling may also increase the percentage, but this is hardly likely as life as we all know it is the ultimate bitch. Let's see how Samuel and Hilary Casidy match up in married life:
The Love Test – part 2:
Hilary Casidy
"Loves"
Samuel Casidy
Number of 'L's: 2
Number of O's: none
Number of 'V's: none
Number of 'E's: 1
Number of 'S's: 3
213
2 + 1 = 3
1 + 3 = 4
34%
As you can see their percentage has made quite a steep decline into a land called Verging On Divorce, and all thanks to marriage, all thanks to names. You may be wondering how in the bloody hell I developed this oh so clever, and let's not forget logical, theory. Well, it all stemmed off from when I read a numerology book. Lesson: never ever give me educational books to read, especially ones revolving around things slightly supernatural and far from normal.
Joke:
Q: what's brown and sticky and taps on your window at night?
A: A poo on stilts.
Issues Ann would like to address:
All those with the perception of at least a cow will have realised Ann has changed the title of her, uh, ramblings. Why? Because she felt like it. Is she going to tell you the real reason? No. Why is she being a bitch? Because God doesn't like her.
Mating season is officially over. Ann doesn't know if she's already mentioned it, but her posse, except for a few select and obviously superior few which includes herself, had been acquiring male servants to aid their tongues in work out and saliva stimulation. These gym visits are now over due to the consequences of cheating, drugs, the asshole disease, and the classic reality check which we all know and love. In light of this conclusion to mating season, Ann would also like to point out that it is the start of Spring here in New Zealand. Overdose of irony anyone?
Ann would like children to be controlled: leashes. Bells around their necks for warn of approach. They should not be allowed out into the general population until potty training has been imposed, endured, and forced to succeed. Cuteness should be measured and cut off at a certain limit to avoid baby talk/adults turning into mindless, incoherent and illiterate fools.
The next person who mistakes her for a man shall die.
Ann would like to thank not sure yet for licking her and then running away, proceeding then to blame it on her pet rock. It was an experience she will never forget.
Ann would like to laugh at Artemis Astralstar for her bad luck with submitting her review, but thank her for her attempt :)
Ann would like to thank all who reads/reviewed/reviews, give them a hug and propose an or-
That's enough of that multiple personality number 23
And now a challenge: tell me one action which is totally selfless. Totally.
Once again, good night, other worldly being bless, and remember…
Planets get more action than you do.
Disclaimer: absolutely no research was done concerning this poor excuse for an essay. Everything I said in here should be doubted severely. No you may not eat my brain, no you may not crash on my floor, no I cannot give you my key to hell and no Johnny Depp is not your daddy.