Get your shit together, Cal

You know that episode of Family Guy where it starts off with Peter being a pirate and then does a massive 180 and its ACTUALLY about Chris getting a girlfriend? Well, thats called a halfway plot switch and its a real-life, proper storytelling trope. No foolin'. Its funny because of the misdirection, and its even funnier when it is self-referential.

Want to know when its not funny? When its in an advert.

Its utterly fucking exhausting. I have no idea why certain ads feel like they need to build you up to the actual money shot. Most of them start out like this:

"This time of year is all about spending time with loved ones."

Aw, so I'm going to guess that this advert is about something squishy, or buying presents. Either way its deffo got a Chrimbo vibe.

"So why waste time in the kitchen?"

Ok, ok, I see where this is going - it'll be a fast food advert. Why waste time in the kitchen when you can order takeaway and hang with the fam. Nice.

"Especially when you you've got so many other things to do! Like getting fit for the Christmas party!"

Unexpected, but ok. Aimed at busy moms who want to get fit, and fast! They'll be wheeling out an ex-fatty-boom-boom in a minute to tell me that she got fit and fabulous by spending just 20 minutes a day watching a DVD.

"And the last thing you want to be worrying about is your moderate to sever psoriasis."

Oh, I see - make me feel at ease by describing all the things I've got to think about and then dig deep into my insecurities to show that you understand me, the consumer, and the fact that I've got so much on my plate I've not been able to deal with an underlying medical problem. Wow, TV, you really do 'get' me.

"Especially when you could meet the man of your dreams online!"

Again, unexpected. Its taken a few twists and turns, but this ad must be for a dating website.

*sad music* "But others aren't so fortunate."

Ok, what the fuck? Where are we going now? Is that a picture of a kid with Cancer? Why did I need the fucking build-up? If this is an ad for a charity then focus on the important stuff. Not my fucking psoriasis.

"Thats why, when you buy a Mazda this holiday season we'll give $300 to a local children's charity."

GTFO. I actually feel mentally abused by this nonsense. Whoever wrote the script for this ad should be pushed under a Mazda. In 2 minutes I have been misdirected and confused. I've felt sadness, happiness, and now utter fucking indifference.

I exaggerate for comic effect, but if you've seen the car ad that starts off with slo-mo images of kids with Cancer, or the Psoriasis ad that starts off with the statement 'I really want to get fit' then you understand where I'm coming from.

Want to know something even more terrifying? They use this tactic on the news too. Yep, reporters are devoting a solid 20 seconds of a 60 second story to a tedious and diversionary intro.

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"Up next, here's Cal with a story about how pigs falling out of trees is seriously affecting one community in Utah. Cal?"

"Christmas time is full of magic and wonder. Its a time of year that is all about shopping, spending time with family and ... pigs falling out of trees? For one family in Utah shopping for presents is the last thing on their minds."

Holy shit, Cal. The anchor set you up to leap straight into your shitty story. Its like neither of you were paying attention. Or maybe you have shares in the stock video library and overtime you show a stock video of people shopping in a department store you get a financial backhander?? Either that, Cal, or you're a shit reporter.

Understanding the DMV

You know my feelings on driving in this part of the Bay Area. Seriously - its like these people are experiencing other road users for the first time. There's no point getting mad when someone cuts you up or doesn't indicate because you can toot your horn and scream as much as you want, they are completely unaware of you*. What it means is that you have to drive defensively, like you expect a runaway pickup to plough through the stationary traffic at any time. Thats one of the reasons people take so fucking long to get off the line on a green light. That, and the fact that they are FUCKING OBLIVIOUS.

Anyway, you would think that with all this in mind they would teach you a bit of defensive driving before you're allowed out on your own. Not so. The practical driving test took a mere 20 minutes, and I could take the written test as many times as I needed to in order to pass. Wow. The funniest thing for me was that I had to take the test in my own car. So I drove my car to the DMV, took the test and, if I had failed, I would have driven it home again. Um, what? If I am unsafe on the road I probably shouldn't be driving my fucking car anywhere??

Anyhow, the DMV itself is a sight to behold. I have no idea where rich, posh people go to get their license, because they certainly didn't make an appearance at any time while I was there. The dregs of society seem to gather early - they have obviously been stung by excessive lines before. Book yourself an appointment online, and even then you sound expect to wait, because its not an appointment, more of a timeslot that you share with a shit ton of other losers.

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So, you turn up for your 9am appointment, along with everyone else with a 9am appointment and stand in the first queue (its a 'queue', goddammit. A 'line' is what connects a dot-to-dot or what skanks do in the toilet). You had BETTER have the right forms filled in. If you don't, then you'll get the forms and be told to fill them in and go stand in another line. There could be up to 50 separate lines at any one time (I'm kidding. But only a bit), and there are 100 little booths that you can be sent to that do different jobs. There's a queue for your photo, a queue for taking the written test, a queue for submitting your written test, a queue for submitting each individual form. Bring your iPad - you;ll need it to pass the time AND to block out constant noise. Who the fuck brings their entire family to the fucking DMV?? This isn't the movies.

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I did have a nice moment where the man marking my written test (YES - they have people actually marking your written test with a red pen. WTF. Would a computer not be efficient/cheaper/less fallible? Could my tax dollars not be put to better use?) had to tell the chinese man in front of me that his wife couldn't help him with the written test. Three times. THREE TIMES. He then looked at me and rolled his eyes. Nice moment. The test itself was hard, in that it contains situations that aren't specifically dealt with in the highway code, which is a good thing. The need to be able to quote the acceptable blood alcohol levels are less useful - I have no idea what my blood alcohol level is at any given moment - it would be more useful to make me quote the alcohol content of drinks, or just to make it clear that no alcohol is the best policy when driving. Could this be contributing to the fact that drink driving here is way more socially acceptable than in the UK? Feel free to get indignant about it - its true.

So, after a significant amount of time and lots of surly DMV workers (why so mad, bro?) I got my license in the post, which is a lovely feeling. Its a bit disconcerting that you have to list your weight, height, eye color and whether you need to wear glasses while driving actually on your license. I had no idea what I weighed, or my exact height, and the DMV didn't have a measuring tool or scales, so I had to guess, otherwise I'd have to come back when I had these arbitrary numbers. Lets hope I don't get stopped by the po-po, otherwise I'll probably have to explain my sudden growth spurt and weight loss. And change in eye color.

* Not entirely true. I accidentally pulled out in front of a man who was speeding because I misjudged

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his excessive speed. I swore. He swerved in front of me and jammed on his brakes so hard my fucking life flashed before my eyes. Twice. Like he wanted to kill me. I screamed at him that he was a fucking arsehole and he came back with a witty "I think YOU'RE the arsehole". I have wished death upon him every day since then, though everyone else has told me that I shouldn't have reacted because he was clearly unhinged and irresponsible and could have pulled a gun on me. They are right, I am wrong. Don't react to fuckwit drivers.

A Brit guide to turkey day

If you get pissy when M&S start selling their Chrimbo toot in October then you'll go mental in the US. They have a whole holiday season here that starts with Halloween (which Brits do not consider to be a valid holiday) and goes all the way through to Chrimbo. Thats a full 3 months of pumpkin-spiced holiday spirit, which the old man is finding it hard to sustain.

That aside, its worth noting that the holiday hierarchy is a bit different here. As we've established, Halloween isn't even a thing in the UK, so that scores a zero, while Chrimbo is right up at the top. Its better than Easter - all the chocolate of the spring festival, plus shitty weather that forces us to stay indoors and eat our own weight in Quality Street guilt-free. It would appear that in the US, the home of religious freedom, Chrimbo is trumped by an even bigger 'do'. Thanksgiving seems to be the Autumn holiday when everyone visits family and is thankful that they live in a really rich and privileged country. As Russell Brand recently described it it commemorates the day when Ariana Grande traveled all the way from Boston and strangled a turkey. And then there were some Indians. 

I get the feeling that, like 4th July, you have to be an actual American to really appreciate the magnitude of this holiday. A full-on "back-to-back world war champions" kinda guy, who understands and appreciates the freedom that living in this country gives you. 

My tone may be little mocking, but actually its a thoroughly bloody nice day. In the two years that the old man and I have been here we've had welcoming invitations to Thanksgiving meals. Which is genuinely lovely, and, actually, reflects just how sweet people here have been. So, although I don't really understand the 'real' meaning of the holiday I am thankful for the lovely people we've met here. 

With that in mind I didn't want us to look like the crap provincial rednecks who turn up to the embassy ball with a six pack of beers and denim short-shorts, so I did a bit of research beforehand to suss out the protocol.

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So, what are you supposed to do at Thanksgiving? Well, it would appear that eating a big Christmas-esque meal, drinking booze and watching football on the telly are the key things to do. Lots of people visit family in other states, so transport before and after is MAYHEM. The shops aren't open, along with most other things - while Christmas and hanukkah and Kwanza are all celebrated by specific cultural groups Thanksgiving allies to everyone, so there are no groups of people willing to work over that period. Except, I'm sure there are people who don't care about it and would be happy to get time and a half, but the altruistic nature of some of the big stores forces everyone to be at home arguing with their relatives, which is lovely.

Seeing as its so much like a British Chrimbo I was wondering about presents? But, no, no expectation to exchange gifts or cards. And I'm not sure about extra tips (in the UK some people tip the milkman and the bin men at Chrimbo) so I didn't do it. I did think about it though, and I think thats actually worth more than cold hard cash. I hope my warm thoughts and tight wallet keep you warm at night, garbage men of NorCal.

On the plus side, though, if you're not at work you get to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which is jolly. I'm sure its a lot of fun if you're there, but the TV coverage was basically one huge advert for new TV shows, Broadway shows and new albums. "Here with me now is Michael Buble. Michael, how are you? What have you been up to?" "Well, Matt, I've been working hard on my new album which is out now, so I'm happy to take a break today to watch this fabulous parade" "Great, can we hear one of your new tracks?" "Sure! **breaks into tedious warbles**". Meh.

I'm not sure whether you're supposed to dress up for Thanksgiving dinner, because a lot of people will be in full football mode, so my sparkly dress would look a bit excessive, so we went for smart casual (festive top and trousers) while others went with pretty dresses and smart shirts. Its kinda like Chrimbo in that sense - make a bit of an effort to look nice, but don't go Chrimbo-party crazy.

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We also made sure to ask what we should bring. This is important - you don't want to turn up with something shite, but you also don't want to turn up empty-handed - thats just rude. Equally, though, the person cooking the meal will probably have put in a huge amount of effort in timings and planning (don't underestimate that - its a fucking feat and a half, and our incredible hosts gracious played down how much effort they had gone to in producing a triple-meat feast with posh cheese and charcuterie and wine and **drowns in own drool**) so if you turn up with a duplicate dish or something that just won't go thats also pretty crappy. So we brought dessert and I practiced and practiced to make sure I got it right on the night. We went super-British (trifle) because I'd hate to bring a sub-par pumpkin pie. Also, whats not to like about jelly (wobbly sugar), custard (cream and vanilla and sugar) and cream (cream).

So, in summary, your invitation to a Thanksgiving meal means ALOT and totally represents the sentiment of this particular holiday, so be thoughtful, dress nice, ask what you can bring and don't expect to be able to buy custard powder on Thanksgiving morning. 

Dr Johnsons' post-watershed word of the day, part deux

Dr Johnsons' post-watershed word of the day

Hey gang! Ready to have some naughty fun with verbal misinterpretation?

Naughty fun, you say? Is this going to get me laid?

Aye! If you plan on courting a lady as fond of lexical shenanigans as we!

So, no then.

Don't be so sure! This one is naughty and certainly snigger-worthy. Maybe you can bring it up as a conversation starter at the Christmas party?

**scoff** yeah, got me some lexical misdirection. Bitches love lexical misdirection. 

Indeed they do, my friend! Context is everything with this one. If a colleague asks you for a rubber during a quarterly financial meeting, then he's made a mistake in his pencil calculations. If a colleague asks you for a rubber at the Christmas party, then he's about to make a mistake in the stationery cupboard with Deborah the office bike. Bahahaha!!

 

Worst. Wingman. Ever.

rub·ber

ˈrəbər/

noun

noun: rubber

1. • NORTH AMERICANinformal

     a condom.

     plural noun: rubbers
   • BRITISH

     an eraser for pencil or ink marks.

     
     

A tribute to the fallen GHDs

I'm not even addicted to my straighteners, it just pisses me off when I've lugged them across the world as part of my weight limit and they give up within one minute of plugging them in. I maimed my first pair of GHDs in New York years ago - after a feeble attempt at heating up they gave up completely for the rest of the holiday. But at least they were playing ball when I got back to the UK. That could not be said for my next occurrence of GHD abuse in Cali when they actually died and I had to send them to be fixed when I got back to the UK. You CAN do it yourself (I've checked the ol' youtube for tutorials) but its apparently quite hard to work out whats wrong with the fickle little thing, so it was easier and quicker to send it off to some nice chaps in the UK.

Roll on 2 years and my lovely sister-in-law uses them again on her super-thick locks. They surrendered halfway through, after a valiant effort, so we sent them off (to the UK, because apparently this service isn't offered in the US??) again. Those little war-wounded warriors are trundling along fine now, but one of their comrades fell in SF a couple of weeks ago. They have recovered in the UK, but it did mean that they basically got a free vacation in the US and were absolutely no bloody use whatsoever.

So - to the travel warning. If you are bringing GHDs from the UK to the US bring a travel adapter that allows you to mess with the voltage. Too many GHDs have been lost in the pursuit of straight holiday hair.

Its not funny. Its just true.

I'll give you something fun to do with hotdogs...

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So with my liberal sprinkling of f-bombs and poop jokes it will have become apparent that I occupy the most regal of positions in the comedy feudal system, which is why I feel I am qualified to pass judgment on those who attempt to lob gags over the battlements of my comedy castle. One must always be poised to receive the pointy end of a double entendre (see what I did there?) - I genuinely (and potentially mistakenly) believe it is a sign of intelligence. 




Double entendre is all about context. When Sid offered Babs a sausage from the BBQ it was pretty clear to the 12 year old me that he was suggesting something a bit ruder. (I say 12. It may have been younger. Don't judge me for watching sexy comedies in my formative years. Us Brits are weened on such shenanigans). And I have been told on a couple of occasions that my guffaws are unwelcome because the snigger-worthy misinterpretation is taken entirely out of context. Why would you think that my exclamation that I love sausage could mean anything sinister when we are at a sausage-tasting evening in the Sausageville Sausage Factory. Simpleton. But, it is my belief that being able to take something out of context AND in context is a sign of higher intelligence. I'm experiencing life on multiple levels, bitches!


And I know many of the peasants in this here colony are with me. As an example lets look at THE BEST ADVERT in the history of all things.

I appreciate that this can entirely be interpreted with a straight face. All these lovely people are very happy that they can now have items sent directly to them. The message is clear. But, there is no doubt whatsoever that the company responsible are fully aware of the hilarity that ensues when you slightly mishear the statement "I just shipped my bed". This simple misdirection makes you giggle, because, goodness, did he just say what I thought he said? No! Of course not - but wouldn't it be silly if he did! At worst you remember the message in the advert because you misheard and thought they were being dirty buggers - remembering a clear message is the most basic of goals for an ad. At best you and KMART form a naughty, unspoken bond through your tv where they mentally give you a wink and a chuckle and you mentally wink back, whispering, "tee hee, we're both on the same page, are we". And, if we're on the same page, then you won't try and screw me over with fake-ass Black Friday deals or a shoddy returns policy. Wink.

So, with this in mind what the fuck-a-doodle-dandy were Pillsbury thinking when they got their little podgy mascot to claim "here's something fun to do with hotdogs!" And its not sentiment, which, packaged differently, would be perfectly innocuous, its the actual words used. They could have said "Looking for a fun treat for the kids?" or "Bored of hotdogs? Here's a fun twist!" But the actual statement sounds like something one might say after a solid fortnight of eating hotdogs cut into the shape of farm animals or threaded with spaghetti - "Here's something fun to do with hotdogs! Shove them up your arse!".

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If this IS meant to be taken out of context then we are imagining a tiny dough-y BOY doing something pervy with hotdogs. Um, no. Which means that it is an in-context-only situation, which shows an incredible lack of awareness, and demonstrates that Pillsbury are very much not on my level. We shared no knowing winks, we are not on the same wavelength. Sorry, Pillsbury, I won't be rushing out to buy your merchandise, and, I fear, you won't give a crap because I clearly fall well outside of your target demographic.

The same can be said for the lovely infomercial I just watched for a recipe book of "Dump cakes". Pardon? You mean to say that completely straight-faced you are offering me a dump cake? A cake of dump? Wow. I guess there is a chance that a 'dump' is not a slang term that Americans will understand. If that be the case, I stand corrected on this one, although I do want to be in the meeting where they try and sell the book to Waterstones in the UK. Epic.

Pumpkin spiced farts

Tis the season and whatnot. But seriously - pumpkin spice is a national obsession that I am completely over. I have two issues.

1. Pumpkin spice is not an actual flavor. For the uninitiated it seems to be the flavoring that people traditionally put with pumpkin to make a pumpkin pie more palatable than mildly sweet, squidgy slop. The flavor is a combination of cinnamon and nutmeg, and possibly a bit of ginger and cloves, if you're feeling fancy. Cloves are sent from the seventh circle of hell to ruin christmas, so I'm already not on board with this nonsense. But, lets call it what it is - christmas spices. Calling it pumpkin spice is like calling Salt & Vinegar crisps 'Chip spiced'. Nope.

2. If everyone jumps on the bandwagon this shit gets real old real quick. Lest we forget the lament of the one hit wonder. With that in mind, lets explore some of the most and least appropriate pumpkin-spiced shit that one can buy:

Peanut butter: 

 

Margarine:

Oreos: I'm not a fan of birthday cake oreos - a couple of dunks in a cup of coffee and you got a serious case of the diabeetus.

Johnnies: Really? Classy. I can imagine thats one hell of a conversation started and a passion killer. "Hey baby, you like pumpkin-spiced lattes? Well, fancy coming back to my place to wrap your lips around this?" Nope.

Pop tarts: standard

Philadelphia: Its cheese, guys. 

M&Ms: Clove flavoured chocolate. Gross.

Porridge: Come on, guys, you can actually put actual spices into your actual porridge oats. 

Waffles: I'm a sucker for a nice waffle. This does not sound like a nice waffle.