craygJust another Moral Fibre Magazine weblog

Television. So I have one now. Well, technically, it’s not mine. It’s my housemate’s. I don’t own such crap. Why? Because there’s a load of shit on. I caught the first five minutes of ‘True Blood’ the other night. It started with an emo wanker and his bleedy-eyed girlfriend riding around with their chommie in a 1979 Datsun Dipshit. Then they argued with each other till chommie leaps out the car in a teary-eyed rage and gets mauled by a Minotaur. That’s when I knew it was bed time.

Next we have Greys Anatomy. That’s also quite a special show. There’s some ginger haired freak that scares my inner child on that show. His main job is to walk around having mini-tantrums in peoples faces. He has no idea what personal space is and judging by the wrinkled noses of his co-stars, he has no idea what personal hygiene is either. The storyline was stupid. It involved some girl with no heart (waiting for her heart transplant) and some other guy that she didn’t really know loving her so much that he proposes to her. I’m assuming that he took out life insurance on her heartless ass right before the proposal (that’s the only way the plot would make any sense at all).

Finally we have my personal favourite form of hell : The Bold and the Beautiful. Why I sat through an entire episode God alone knows (and He probably won’t talk about it because it still sickens Him), but I did. So, the story went like this : some really old guy is marrying some really young girl on a beach. He tells her she’s so amazing and that her farts are vanilla scented and her inexplicable bad moods and PMS make him realise that he is indeed a wad of gayness that should die by anal rape in a Chinese prison. At this point I was distracted by his tiny piggy eyes. They were filled with Satanic lies. They proceeded to consumate their devil marriage on a bed on the beach. If I were jogging along a beach and I saw two spawns of evil boning each other on a makeshift bed, I would be quite upset. I would write a letter to the council and hopefully they’d have the bed removed.

Anyway, TV is shit.

Thanks.

Bye.

Fatherhood. It’s something that I’ve always wanted to be. A father. I’m great with kids, I’m super patient, I always find the best toys, I can change wee-wee nappies and I know people that are willing to change the poo ones. There is just one huge obstacle standing in the way of me experiencing daddy-bliss. A woman. Well, more accurately, the lack thereof. I suppose I could go on the tedious mission of meeting someone, pretending to like her and then lie about the condom breaking, but that sounds so deceitful and time-consuming. Emphasis on the word time-consuming. My birthday is in a few weeks time, I ain’t gettin’ any younger. So, what can I do?

Option one is adoption. I’ve already looked into this and there are quite a few good programs out there. The thought of grabbing some random kid out of a life of despair and hopelessness and introducing him to a new kind of despair and hopelessness seems appealing.

But then I see myself in the mirror. The piercing blue eyes, the gorgeous blonde locks, the strong jaw-line, the sensual lips. Man, I can’t let these good genetics just go to waste. I need to get this DNA into somethin’. I need an ovary to smoosh my little swimmers in to. I need : A DONOR!

So, if you feel you are a potential donor, go and read this : http://www.eggdonationsouthafrica.co.za/donors.asp. It will tell you all you need to know to become the mother of my child. A child that will be a god among men. A hero. A legend. And if it’s a girl it will be pretty. Like me. If you like what you read, then get in touch for an interview.

*uglies need not apply

** please embed your youtube video of yourself by adding the url of the youtube as follows:

*** copy the video url e.g http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Od4_L35hUTo and paste it into the comment form below addin a ‘v’ after the http:// like so: httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0d4….

(once again, uglies don’t bother)

**** This is for real, no sex is involved (unless you like the doctor or summin’, but don’t tell me about it)

***** Seriously, uglies… no. Just go. Now.

****** You will need a womb for this. You cannot do this without a womb. You cannot hatch a baby from your ass. Many have tried, all have failed.

I remember a time when I was innocent. I was in the flower of my youth, about to bloom into an existence filled with endless possibility. The world was my oyster and nothing stood in my way. I saw only the good in people, never the bad. I didn’t believe in evil. Then things changed. I saw the dark side. I saw a side of humanity that should never be seen. That’s right. I went to the company Christmas party.

As a result of my experiences I have created this simple guide to surviving the company Christmas party with ones dignity intact. All you need is one roll of duct tape.

1) Do not take your pants off

This is a golden rule. Pants removal is a bad thing. Public pants removal is worse. Public pants removal with a photographer present may result in death of any chance you may have had of breeding. Unfortunately, alcohol is often quite a persuasive mistress in this matter. Before the party, duct tape your pants to your torso. Avoid taping over your nipples.

2) Do not wave your arms in the air like you don’t care

I realize that the urge to do this can be overwhelming. As soon as you do this the dignity police will arrest you and lock you up with Tiger Woods and Julius Malema. This is not advisable. Once again, duct tape to the rescue. Carefully paste one strip of duct tape under each armpit. Any sudden arm movements will result in removal of large amounts of skin and armpit hair. The ultimate deterrent to any Will Smith-like behavior.

3) Do not “Bump ‘n Grind” your co-workers

The music is pumping, you’ve been socially lubricated, and suddenly Betty from accounts starts looking mighty fine. The urge to do some ‘dirty dancing’ is becoming stronger and stronger by the second. She looks pretty sweet in her granny sweater and size 50 floral tent. Duct tape is your mighty protector here. As soon as you feel the “Bump ‘n Grind” urge, throw the duct tape at Betty. Then run.

4) Do not party with the bad man

Well, you’re on your own here. Nothing I can do for you. Not even duct tape can save you.

There you have it, how to survive a Christmas party using only duct tape and your wits. You’ll mostly be relying on the duct tape though.

Do you use Twitter? Do you follow your friends on Twitter? Do you regret following your friends on Twitter? If the answer to all of these questions is yes, then you are left with a huge moral dilema.

Do you  :

a) Stop using Twitter. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. It’s a good thing because while you’re doing amazing things like your laundry you won’t be constantly thinking “I have to Tweet this!”

It’s a bad thing because you’ll be missing out on everyone else’s laundry tweets.

b) Unfollow your “friend”. Once again, a double-edged sword of pain. The positive is that you won’t have to read a retarded tweet ever again. The bad side is that you’ll have to face the risk that they’ll find out you unfollowed them. That means you could lose your “friend” (not a big loss). It will however, count against you when you apply for your Care bear badge of friendship. No smiley face for you, you worthless sack of crap.

It’s a no-win situation. I’ve created a special picture to illustrate how I feel about these people. I hope you agree.