Sour grapes and wankas...

Sometimes I wonder: ‘How on earth am I supposed to deal with patronising wankas?’ I’m sure it’s a fairly common question. At what point are you allowed to say to a friend: ‘You’re a patronising wanka and I no longer wish to partake of the friendship?’

A ‘friend’ of mine has agreed to pass public judgement on a special project of mine and has just phoned me to give me the heads up that he’s about to do it. And (his wankatron words) he’s ‘not above being controversial’. Surely that’s slang for you’ve-done-something-really-good-and-because-I-hate-myself-at-the-moment-I’m-going-to-bring-you-down-with-me.

And if I go ahead and criticise his criticisms of me, does that automatically count as sour grapes? I HATE the sour grapes rule. It’s one of those nasty clauses of life that defends anyone who ever gives ‘constructive criticism’.

Perhaps I should look at it in a positive light. Maybe this will provide me with an opportunity to do a little spring-cleaning on that particular friendship. Maybe I should just wait and find out what his criticisms are first. THEN I’ll spring clean.

I hate wankas. And sour grapes.

The Road Most Travelled...

Ah, the first day back at work. This morning, all feelings of optimism and rejuvenation were soon replaced with feelings of despondency and desperation. Why is it that it only ever takes about five minutes for you to feel like you’ve been back at work for weeks?

But life is not so bad. I’m still basking in the glory of a successful road trip. Pursuant to the last post, I managed a nice blend of holiday bogan with road trip chic in terms of dress. There was many a beverage consumed and many a table danced upon. ‘Pursuant’ became the word of the trip; ‘I Like Big Butts’ was the token song, and our ipod, fondly referred to as ‘podley’ became our road trip mascot.

And yes, our destination was not completely void of male talent. Clearly the dyke haircut is a winner. Who’da thunk it?