Thursday, October 23, 2008

Things I hate - An Ode to George Carlin

  • People that don't realise I am wearing headphones to avoid talking to them.
  • People that use the fact that they're blonde as an excuse for doing something fucking stupid. And most of the people that use this self-deprecating ideology are not even blonde, they dye their hair blonde so that they can pretend to have idiotic excuse for being a fucking idiot.
  • Cunts that stand still on the walking side of the escalator.
  • People who play air instruments in nightclubs. Yes yes, I get it. You can play a real musical instrument and you would like everyone is the room to know that. Please stop this desperate attempt to make yourself look sexually appealing to women who like 'guys in bands'. You look like a spastic with his nipples hooked up to a car battery.
    Air drums are the worst because people that play them always do it accurately, they make sure they get all the fills and even get the kick drums on time, as if they were actually playing the drums. The air guitar catapulted out of fashion in the 90s and just consists of fit-like flailing of limbs and head banging, and air keyboard is the squarest shape you can possibly bust on a dance floor. But where are all the people playing the air bass?
  • People that wear rugby shirts. I don't think I need to justify myself on that one.
  • Summer - Too much sunshine, visible cellulite and optimism.
  • Fat people that buy lots of fitness equipment for their home. Home is where the fridge is. Go outside and walk far away from a shop or a fridge and you WILL lose weight.
  • People that drive to the gym to walk on the treadmill.
  • Electric pencil sharpeners. Who the hell thought that sharpening a pencil was too much effort that there should be a machine to do it for you? The people mentioned above I'm sure. If you really need to sharpen that many pencils that it could become painful to rotate a 20g piece of metal then my suggestion is buy a fucking pen.
  • When I try my best to let off a wee stealth fart and just when I think I got away with it someone appears out of nowhere and awkwardly tries to talk to me and ignore the blatantly obvious fart climbing up their nostrils.
  • Winter - Too cold, expensive and depressing.
  • People that make a situation incredibly uncomfortable by trying to make sure that you are comfortable.
    "Can I get you anything? Are you sure? Just a wee tea or a coffee? Juice! We've got juice if you'd prefer, apple or orange or...do we have blackcurrant Jim? Jim! We've no got any no? Well I'll just nip down the shops and get some. It's no problem. Really? Are you sure you're okay? Something to eat maybe? You look thirsty, a wee glass of Dr Pepper or something. Can I get you anything? That seat can't be comfortable. Listen come on, you can't sit there like that, take my seat. You'll hurt you back like that, sure come on and sit down here in my seat. I'll just stand here. Are you okay? Is that seat alright for you? Me? No, I'm fine, I like standing. Can I get you a tea or something? Are you comfortable like that? I'll nip next door to my mother's and get you another wee cushion. No, don't you be silly it's no problem at all. Back in a jiffy! I'll see if she's got any blackcurrant while I'm through."
  • Your mate's band.
  • Spring - Too much nature, poetry and pre-summer optimism.
  • Clothes covered in zips that don't zip.
  • Guys that can't accept that they're 70% bald and have that stupit beard thing on the back of their head. It's like that girlfriend that chucked you 10 years ago. She's gone and she's not coming back mate! Get over it! She gradually slipped through your fingers, and in the end she packed up and left you for the bathroom floor.
  • Autumn - Too much stuff and things everywhere.
  • The lads, the blokes, the geezers, the boys and the fellas.
  • Myself.

I had to get all that off my tits folks.

I hope that gave you something to th(dr)ink about.

Ross x

Thursday, October 16, 2008

If you want roses go to the florist.


I got a bit of a shock yesterday. But it was a pleasant shock, the sort of jolt of astonishment you would get if you were standing in a queue for a newspaper and you suddenly felt the hand of Liz Hurley cup your groin. At first you'd be livid and very surprised by her act of unprovoked sexual assault, but then after it sunk in for a second you'd smile happily and realise she did it because she's a slut.


I was chatting away to a friend on http://www.facebook.com and he asked me, "So Ross, me old ring binder, what's Seoul like?" Now, I have answered this question so many times since arriving here and I'm always more than happy to share my thoughts, opinions, beliefs, outlook, views and experiences with anyone curious about this avant-garde city and the shit that goes down here. But this question was asked late on a school night and I hadn't the energy nor the time to explain the place the place as best as I would like to, so instead I offered my friend a link to my blog. This is where my astonishment cames from...


http://www.facebook.com refused to send the link to my blog to my friend because someone had reported it as too offensive!!!


I know that some of the views and opinions I have spewed onto that page are a bit controversial at times. I have the tendency to get a little carried away with my rants, using crass and explicit language (examples: cunt, pish, fuck, baws, ya big ginger ride, fanny, shite, rasper, Toronto etc.) to get my point across and occasionally touching on subjects that one of a fragile disposition could regard as distasteful (examples: child abuse, rape, sex, mindless acts of violence and kiwi fruit) and so when I think about it I can understand why one may consider my little bloggy wog offensive.

BUT....

You reported it to http://www.facebook.com, you dirty little grass!?!


"Sir, sir!!! Ross was using dirty language sir! He, he, he...he said the f-word, the s-word, eh, ehhhhhhhhh...the c-word, and it was very dirty sir and I think he should be expelled."


Come on. What sort of lay-about, ball scratcher goes to all that trouble of emailing http://www.facebook.com and reporting a website when they read something they can't swallow? Who has nothing better to do that to complain and moan that something they saw on a website was too offensive for their senses? I'll tell you who, old people! Really, really old people.


These old people that sit on their floral patterned armchairs with their tartan slippers on, their reading glasses balanced on the end of their ski jump, stuck-up nose, roasting by a log fire, hand writing letter upon letter to the Television Standards Agency complaining of too much 'filth', 'smut', 'foul language' and 'offensiveness' on television 'these days'. But apparently this sort of person exists in modern times amongst our youth. Sitting in their leather-look computer chair, rocking back and forth, can of Coke Zero and photo of Jesus at their side, huffing and puffing as they send email upon email to different websites and administrators trying to mother people's minds and control content. To these http://www.facebook.com "friends" of mine I say... Fuck you, if you can't grow a set then slap a set on.


Anyways, I suppose I am complaining about this but at the same time I am actually quite proud of myself. My page has been black listed by http://www.facebook.com as an offensive website and one which it does not want it's users to access as it may be offensive to them and pollute their minds. That's actually pretty far out, but I am left wondering what the criteria are for judging offensiveness? Do http://www.facebook.com have a unit of cyber-literate pensioners, sucking on Murray mints and surfing the net looking at reported websites to see if they bring them within a "Fuck you" of a heart attack? Or do they simply have a big list of things you simply mustn't do or say on your website?

  • Maximum of 4 uses of explicit language per 50000 words
  • There must be no references to child abusive, sexual assault, violence, murder, drug use or sexual perversion of a homosexual nature.
  • Thou must not take facebook's name in vein
  • There is a maximum of one flaccid male penis per page.
  • There must not be ANY traces of an erect or semi-erect male penis on said website.
  • Website is restricted to three nipples per page.
  • No mention of our Lord or his son Jesus Christ in a negative or blasphemous fashion
  • No fun to be had under any circumstances
  • Vote McCain


Just because you can't laugh doesn't mean you have to cry.


Offensiveness leads to progress. Everything new and challenging to current beliefs gets labeled as offensive and controversial. People treated, and remain to treat, Darwin's Theory of Evolution as offensive when it was 1st published, and look where we are now...

If you like offense and abuse, theres more to come. Watch this blogspace cunt.

Easy now.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Money and that

So I'm going to be skint for another month then. I get a call from my UK financial office (my parent's house) to inform me that I have overdrawn my overdraft and need to start paying the dirty bastards back. The boys at the Clydesdale Bank are a little edgy about the situation because I owe a substantial and undisclosed fee and my account has been completely inactive for over two months. No withdrawals, no deposits, no standing orders, no pending payments and no indication of a current employer. They have even greater cause for concern because the last transaction put on my Clydesdale Student Account was a one way flight to South Korea.

Now I would just like to point out that I have every intention of paying this money back. I wish to one day return to Scotland and when I do return, I hope to be in a financial situation where I don't regard suicide to be the most appealing option. The fact is that they are after me now and are sending letters to try to get their money back and unfortunately the days are long gone where you could pay this sort of debt with both your pinky fingers and a couple of toe punts to the chest, because I have become rather fond of my big bag of money and the thought of having to hand it over to these clean-cut, greetin faced, 9 to 5, pencil-pushing criminals gees me the dry boak. If it were a feasible option I could sacrifice my pinkies, I haven't used them since I stopped drinking tea with the upper classes, and my chest could really do with a couple of swift kicks to move some of my post-cold phlegm. But unfortunately I cannot barter a beating from these white collared Ned Kelly's and I have to grudgingly hand over my bag of cash once a month. 400,000 notes, once a month for the next 10 months and my debt will be cleared and as a result I will probably have dug myself into just as much debt with a Korean Bank and be about 8 stone lighter than when I left.

While we're on the topic of money, I'd just like to say that I am trying to make sense of all of this banking jargon ("Bank with us and you could enjoy a current APR of 6.9% over 24 months with added financial tax-breaks for the 6 months prior to puchase with a fixed monthy rate of compound interest on you floating mortgage repayments at a variable interest rate of your current equity value" Now, isn't that what all of our lives really need? Even more nonsense) because I am desperate to know the fate in store for the financial world and it gives me great pleasure reading about Wall Street's gradual trip down the pan, round the U-bend and out to sea. Reading these reports and making sense of the current economical situation gives me a semi because, forgive me for being optimistic and unrealistic, the end of this shallow, capital driven existence could be near.

Look at your Louis Vutton bags, your Peter Werth 3-piece suit, your Lexus on finance, your 3 bedroom semi-detached with a garden space, the wife's wedding ring, your time-share in Cornwall, your Kenny Roger's back catalogue, your Samsung 52 inch, your box seat at Lords, your iPhone and the rest of this shallow little pile of shite you have shodily assembled on credit to compensate for a lack of personality and realise that it's your fault. Don't buy things you can't afford.

Don't shop at John Lewis when Argos will do.


Don't take me seriously, I have no idea what I'm talking about. But for the first time in my life, I'm actually glad I'm broke.



Ross Sung-Kim x

My Facebook is sick right now.
I have been doing a little too much "socialising", if you know what I mean. I've been putting myself out there, meeting new people almost every night, handing out my URL left, right and centre and generally being a bit of a social hoor. But as much fun as I've had, now it's all coming back to sting me.
It's rather embarrassing to be honest and I don't really know why I'm telling you but, my Facebook has caught an STD (Social-Networking Transmitted Disease) and a nasty irritation has developed in my inbox. I think this is a direct result of my page coming into contact with too many fannies.
From now on please contact me on myspace.com or bebo.com because I don't want you to catch this horrible disease as well.
Get in tae it.
Ross Sung-Kim x