My Open Letter to BritMums

Dear BritMums,
                        You have taken well over half a year to approve my application to join your elite site. I cannot care less about the fact that I may not be able to contribute to your possibly amazing array of British Mum's virtual diaries. All I wanted was to be able to log in on to your site and read some of these articles. You should not tease non-members with hyperlinks and then deny them the right to read it because their application have been pending since before the first coming of this Christ person. There is a chance that you may be under-staffed. There may also be a chance that you are a network controlled by the clique-y mothers not unlike those I can find at the playground, gabbing about the useless men in their life and marvelling at the literary wonder that is Fifty Shades of Shite.

Either way, I do not care any more. You have hurt my feelings and made me feel like my virtual blog is not up to par.

Whatevs.

                                                                                                                                           Sincerely,
                                                                                                                                                    Me

Don't judge my letter-writing skills. The last time I was made to write a formal letter, it was when I was sitting for my GCSEs.

Oxford did what?

To be honest, I am not one to constantly check up on what Oxford's Online Dictionaries gets up to. The closest I get to an online dictionary is googling things like 'Cesspit definition' to make sure that that is the word I want and whether or not the real definition and what I think it means matches up. Years of being surrounded by forum twats make you paranoid like that.

The header to that Oxford site said 'Oxford Dictionaries. The world's most trusted dictionaries'. Verified by whom? Was a survey being carried out on the world wide web regarding which dictionaries are being trusted most by the general public? How can I be certain that Urban Dictionary is not the more trust-worthy? I trust UrbanDick. UrbanDick is my bible, yo. I don't quite trust Oxford now. Not with this latest news about the new additions they have made, as was brought to my attention by a post on my Facebook news feed this afternoon.

Please, let it all be lies.

I read through the list of new words added into the dictionary and a small part of me died inside. The epeolatrist in me is slowly expiring. Epeolatry is a real word, you fucking spell-check.

epeolatry

PRONUNCIATION:

(ep-i-OL-uh-tree) 

MEANING:

noun: The worship of words. 

Yet that word is not in Oxford Dictionary.  Oh, the irony.

SRSLY. 

Even Sriracha is in Oxford's.

This bastardization of the English language is giving me the urge to vom.

Dear Oxford Dicks, who on earth are you sourcing these words from?

These twats, I bet. Totes amaze.

Not a Geek. Not a Nerd.

I do realize these days that doing something that does not involve a handheld device is a rare thing. So is reading something on the computer screen that is not LOLcats-related. If you are staring intently at a picture and it is not something off Instagram, people might start to wonder what is wrong with you.

Click here to find out more about Chimeras.

I usually get sucked into articles posted by I Fucking Love Science. It is not because I am a geek. It is not because I am a nerd, either. It is because I am just fucking fascinated by the articles posted by the admins of the group. I have no in-depth knowledge of Physics. I have difficulty doing the simplest of mathematical equations at the drop of a hat. I just like reading about... Stuff. This is also probably why my telly is always on mute and with subtitles on. I am better at reading than I am listening.

I am uncomfortable being called a geek or a nerd because I know that the real geeks and nerds work hard to get that tittle and I am not going to given the honour of being called one simply by reading a book at the dentist instead of you know... Candy crushing.

It is true that over the years the meaning of the words have changed considerably.

Geeks then.
I bet he is fluent in Binary. 

Geeks now.
An unhealthy addiction to anything Nintendo-Related.

Or Zelda.

Just add insanely huge, tacky plastic rim glasses, showcase your breasts and have little to no body fat. 

I do have a handful of real nerd friends. The kind that when they talk I am left feeling like a Neanderthal. I also have a massive cesspit of acquaintances that will randomly say shit like 'I am, like literally, such a geek' because they just had their had done up in Leia Buns. Anything Star Wars related these days is so geek-chic these days, don't you know?

Stop it. End this madness now.

Patronizing adverts.

Recently it hit me that there is a very high possibility that crime shows are being watched by women and only women. I guessed this by the ridiculous amount of patronizing adverts shoved in during breaks. This saddened me. I thought I was a special breed, just thriving on Crime shows. I scoff at soaps, obvious female-oriented "reality" garbage and period dramas. That is mainly because I think most of the women on these type of shows behave in an appalling manner and thrive on double standards. It is unfair to men that women are modelling themselves like these (fictional) idiots and expect men to behave like these (again, fictional) men on the telly and bend to their will and I am not going to sit there and watch mindless crap.

Twat.

Hollyoaks in a nutshell. 

The reason I have a little idea about these soaps is because on certain weekends Jaz's girls come over to stay and I am subjected to watching crap that gives me indigestion at dinnertime. I almost feel the need to cover The Human Child's eyes and say 'This is all lies, Child. Like the porn you will discover hopefully in 40 years. Not all women do not behave like this. Men, too, depending on what you are going to bend towards...'

I digress. Patronizing adverts. The people on SkyLiving must have sussed out that only women watch Criminal Minds and therefore have decided endless advertisements about abused donkeys. Endless procession of sweet little donkeys being mistreated and made to carry a hideous amount of rocks and rubble on their tiny bodies. WHY would you want me to donate to a charity organization when that poor animal is the result of other people behaving like dickheads. Is the money going to get these people in third world countries proper building tools like, I don't know, a crane? It breaks my bloody heart. Who is putting these stones on the donkey? Are you still expecting a grown woman to look at that and somehow confuse that with our childhood fantasies of owning a pony and think 'Oh that poor pony, Mummy! Give it some money!'. No, don't give them money. Mr. Cameraman, put down your fancy camera that must have cost a couple of grand and give whoever piled them rocks on the donkey a proper slap. Why are you riding a donkey? You are not going to get far. Look at your bloody size and compare it to the donkey. Just fucking look. You are not going to go far on it and you are not going very fast either. Oh, what? Tired legs? What about that bloody animal?

What about adverts with abused children. With the money you want us to donate, are you going to re-home these children you are about to help and at the same time put the parents in a gas chamber? My ovaries. Yes, these children on these adverts are actors and they are damn good ones. It makes me pine for my child who is having his afternoon nap. It makes me want to hold him and sniff his hair but most parents know that if you wake a child up before his nap is over you will end up with a grizzly monster you so desire to lock in a cupboard. I live in a flat underneath a woman who pays her children fuck-all attention. We can hear the children crying endlessly for attention and after about half hour of crying, the eldest will go ahead and run up and down their hallway before triple-jumping in the living room. Possibly vaults himself off the settee, guessing by the loud bang it makes. Why have unprotected sex? Why reproduce and neglect? The fucking twat probably has 'Full-time Yummy Mummy' under occupation on Facebook.

We have a couple of friends trying for a baby for the past ten years. Sometimes they miscarry, sometimes they manage to get pregnant only to lose it halfway down the line. It is a fucking vicious thing to have to go through. It hacks away at the soul. And then you have the fuckers upstairs. It makes me want to march up there on behalf of all hopeful couples trying to conceive and slap them blind. She loves hoovering though. Three times a day she hoovers. Must be trying to hoover up all the evidence of all that crack and cocaine.

To sum it all up: No, charity organizations, I will not be donating to your cause. I want an instantaneous kind of thing. I believe in resolving things with a slap because offenders like these will not give a damn about you using your words anyway. A right, proper slap that will make them see stars.

Oatmeal says it best.