Welcome back to Awkward Situations! In this episode: The Shopping Expedition!

So while the world keeps riding a roller-coaster to hell, life still goes on. Which in direct consequence means I still have to deal with the nitty-gritty, wibbly-wobbly, wishy-washy nonsense that is life among other people. I think we can all agree that we hate people sometimes. Not me, though; I save on postage and hate them always. Honestly, I’d almost prefer a zombie apocalypse. Hell, I’ll be first in line when they’ll hand out the zombie virus. Lurching around without being aware of anyone that’s not food, sign me right up! At least as a zombie you don’t get accosted by salespeople.

In the course of these human events it became clear one day that I needed a new computer chair, because for some reason this old back is not getting any younger and all the yoga in the world is not helping. So, new chair it is. Can’t do anything about the chair at work, so I’ll have to get one for home. Only problem is, to find out if you like a chair you have to sit in it. Physically. Because they don’t have 3D scans you can do from home. So I need to actually go to an actual store. Any store have any good ergonomic chairs? Yes, Ikea and some other place, both stores at opposite ass ends of nowhere. Actually, one ass end of nowhere is now a huge shopping mall because we’re becoming globalised over here. So I lurch (actually take the tram, then the subway, then another subway, then a ten minute walk) to that horrid place full of shops and people and children and beating-heart zombies who can’t look up from their phones to watch where the fuck they’re going. And apparently despite my obvious discomfort at the multitude of smells, sounds, and visual input, I still look like I’m up to buy a 30 EUR hand cream.

A guy from a booth in the middle of the way suddenly calls me over and first I think I must have dropped something, but no. That guy hands me a soap sample. Out of total brain confusion caused by sensory overload I thank him in English. And then the gates to cosmetic hell open up.

The problem is, despite my best efforts and biggest dreams, and the way I yell at my computer, I’m not exactly a fire spitting bitch, but a nice, mild-mannered person whose greatest regret at the end of life will be that I didn’t tell enough people to get all the way out of my face.

No. No, suspiciously touchy-feely salesman. Thanks for the soap sample, but no. But I’m feeling okay, like, not in full on fight – kill opponent – flight mode, so maybe I can flee by doing my usual routine of pretending I’m not from here? No, not working. Dude’s making small talk, still in English. Asks me where I’m from, tells me where he’s from, tells me all about this nail file, then about this cuticle oil, then about the hand cream… all the while rubbing stuff into my hands and I’m just there like…awkward-girl-meme

Trying to answer the age old question of how to politely tell a person to fuck off, while orchestrating this huge lie about being a grad student from Milton Keynes (no, I don’t know what was thinking when I thought of that!) and I’ll only be here for a year. And he just keeps going. Like, I know you need to make a sale, dude. You were probably spying on me from behind the fake greenery as my directionally confused ass was trying to locate the furniture store, and the vision of a commission was dancing in front of your eyes. I know your kind can smell a tenner a mile off. Or blood. One of the two. But, but, but… I’m not shelling out 30 for a hand cream. I tell him so. I tell him I’ll think about it while buying my new office chair. He says if I have an Austrian boyfriend I could rub it all over his body. I say I don’t think said boyfriend would like that. I make a joke about maybe I’ll ask my boyfriend to get me the stuff for Christmas anyway. He asks me why and I’m just… well, just so. Didn’t he get the joke? He didn’t get the joke. And suddenly he launches into a mini tirade about control within relationships and how back where he comes from they have these men’s/father’s rights groups who restore order within families when there’s problems and at this point I’m like…


Someone get me the hell outta here! Somehow the conversation ends with my usual marketer spiel of “I’ll think about it, byyyyyyye….” and I flee. Making a mental note to find another exit from the mall so I don’t have to walk past him again. Text my small scale trauma to my actually existing boyfriend because WTF.

And then the furniture store doesn’t have the chair I wanted to try on (try on? try out? One of those). They miiiiight wanna put that on their website. Like, if they haven’t had that thing for a week, you know. Might be useful to change the little sign that says ‘in stock’. Because at this point it’s a barefaced, clean shaven, bold font lie.


It’s the little things that confirm my hatred for most of my species. Milton Keynes me also hates people. Everyone of my fabricated personalities hates people. I’m just not made for the public.

Also, please tell me I’m not the only one pretending to be someone else when faced with a situation I can’t handle.

Also also, an hour later when I was finally home I discovered that cream gave me a rash. My usual 2,59 hand cream doesn’t do that.

And now I have to retreat to my bedroom, draw the curtains, shut fair daylight out, and make myself an artificial night in which I can ignore the world. Cheers.


Clothes Make the Woman… Angry, That Is.

Clothing industry, are you and me gonna have a problem?

So as you may know I’m a human which means I have to wear clothes because otherwise small children will faint and I’ll get arrested. Also, frostbite. But how in the world am I going to avoid this quandary if you, clothing industry, keep giving me tissue paper to wear?

Seriously. I don’t have abundances of money, so I can’t buy like locally grown vegan clothing like all them rich ethical bitches. I don’t have any damned money. What do you need to get money? A job. What do you need to get a job? A job interview. What do you need for a job interview? Acceptable clothes. What am I not getting anywhere? You guessed it. I tried to buy a nice looking shirt on sale. Online, because y’know, grad school kicking my ass with some last exams and there’s no way I can just leave the house to do some shopping. Nice simple shirt, will go great with business casual or smart casual. Shirt arrives. Shirt is tried on.

Shirt is see-through.

What in the everloving hell?

Not sheer. That would have been too obvious. Just thin enough to be see-through.

Oh, I’m sorry, store, I guess I wasn’t aware of your stripper collection! You know, when they said everyone can be a star, this wasn’t what they meant, you know that, right? Andy Warhol was predicting YouTube and Twitter, not YouStrip and Titter. (Although…)

It wasn’t see-through on the store’s page. It just looked, y’know, shirty. But literally, you can see everything! I’m not sure I’m applying in the right kind of industry to wear see-through clothing to an interview. No, really, I don’t think my clearly visible bra is going to help me any. Especially not when apparently 90% of HR is female.

And even if I wasn’t too fat to be a stripper I’d refuse to wear almost transparent anything in public.

Seriously, I navigate across four pages of seventies style blouses with cut-outs so everyone can see your bra and flab just to arrive at the one decent looking shirt and then it’s fucking see-through?!

I mean, I know it’s going to be fucking summer in, hm, six months, but come on!

And don’t even get me started on pants. Pants would be the enemy if skirts were a feasible option. This is 2016! We all have giant mobile phones! How do we not have pockets on our pants?! What do you expect me to do, fashion industry, put my phone in my bag where I have to dig it out between my wallet, my keys, my asthma inhaler, writing pad, pens, assorted tampons, hand sanitiser, and my emergency snickers bar? Look, there’s a Greenpeace guy with a clipboard right there at the corner, I need to pretend I’m busy, I need my fucking phone! Now! Give me pockets on my damn trousers, dammit!

Also, I don’t know if you can see it under all the facial hair, but I’m a woman. I need pockets to sneak tampons into the bathroom at work because taking my entire bag is not fucking subtle, okay? You know what’s also not subtle? Walking around with a suspiciously clenched fist because I’m smuggling a tampon down the hallway. I might as well go around parading the tampon box over my head. No, I’m not angry because of my period. I’m angry because of the lack of proper pockets on my clothes! Forget penis envy! Ain’t no one want to deal with penis anyway! Pocket envy‘s where it’s at!

And Boyfriend wonders why I’m basically running around in drag. It’s no use. I’m going to wear men’s shirts until I die. And men’s pants, because they have pockets. Fucking pockets, man. Fucking pockets got me acting like a crack addict.

Rant Day! First Complaint of 2016, Wooo!

Item 1: Despite my best efforts, I gained even more fucking weight. I’d be seriously contemplating a gym membership if it wasn’t another drain on my financial resources. But I can’t keep ballooning up! I’m too damn broke to buy new pants!

Item 2: Now what’s this? What’s the object of all this white stuff outside? Is it an enormously large group of enormously large polar bears? Is it spilt paint? Did a cocaine truck fall over? No? Then what the hell is all that white stuff doing there? Just fancy frozen water? And the government’s doing nothing, it’s a fucking disgrace!

Item 3: Okay, so the local drug store is giving away this woman’s magazine for free. I take it in hopes of recipes. And every time I am severely disappointed because the trends of women’s magazine recipes seem to be a constant oscillation of roasted savoy cabbage on one extreme, and some high fashion something that involves 14 well-timed steps on the other. I know we’re all panicking about meat now, but can we have some normal food?

Item 4: Speaking of food, is anyone else baffled by this Paleo food trend thing? Eat like cavemen… except for the fact that you don’t because if you’re trying to eat like 50,000 BC you will soon find you can’t. I’m mainly annoyed with the word. Paleo. Paleolithic. I just…. This is not accurate! The Paleolithic age lasted for over two million years. Lots of things happen in over two million years. I mean, didn’t you notice the lack of mammoth and giant stag everywhere when you came up with that? Are we still hunting glyptodon? I dare you to google gylptodon. We should have tamed that thing because it’s awesome but humans weren’t on to the domestication trend back then. So what are you eating? meat. Beef. Pork. Chicken. While I’m all for eating meat, I’d like to point out that cows have been domesticated for 10,000 years, pigs for 13,000, chickens for some 8000 years. So… not really Paleo, is it? More like Mesolithic, get your facts straight, go visit a museum once in a while. I mean, you shun potatoes, which have also been cultivated for some 10,000 years as being ‘not Paleo’. Yet you’ll eat broccoli and kale which have only been cultivated since around the fifth century BC. Might as well skip the beef and chicken, too. Go hard or go home (to your cave)! And anyway, all evidence points to ‘cavemen’ eating literally everything. If you gave a caveperson a cupcake, they’d eat it. And maybe your hand, too, because you know what’s very Paleolithic? Cannibalism.

Also, if you think you can cheat death by going back to the roots or somesuch nonsense, I’d like to point out 1) neither in the Paleolithic nor in the Mesolithic age did humans live as long, on average, as they do now, and 2) that archaeologists have found evidence of bone cancer in a 120,000 year old skeleton. So you know… eat your cupcakes while you can. Just give up and change the name of your fad diet, it is not accurate and that’s bothering me! 

Item 5: What happens in Cologne does not stay in Cologne. So I wonder… if one of the women assaulted in Cologne on New Year’s had shot her assailant, would the police still not have heard or seen a thing? Just throwing that thought out there.

Item 6: My new bag is great, but extremely heavy even without anything in it. I could club someone to death with that thing. Which, given the recent outbursts of gender motivated violence in my city and nearby ones, is probably a good thing. If someone come at me, they gon’ eat handbag.

Yeah… try as I might to write it off as a joke, the new year so far has been a bit rough. It’s hard to be funny when you want to scream. Stay safe out there.

Rant Day! Things That Pissed Me Off So Far This December!

Item 1: Professors who lack time management skills. Look here, mate, I have a busy life, so if you could stop talking for fucking ever and let people get on with their presentations, that would be great. We’re behind schedule like whoa. I want to know if I have my own presentation before or after the holiday break. I have to plan this shit, you know! Christmas season is stressful enough already!

Item 2: Dear internet, please shut the fuck up with Hotline Bling, that song’s creepy as hell. Also, Drake? You okay there? Dude, you weren’t always a creepy obsessed ex – or were you? Oh, so you left the city and your fuck buddy now has lost all interest in you? And yes, that was a fuck buddy relationship – you weren’t living together and she just called you up when she wanted sex. You were her booty call! Minor relationship! Get over it! And now she’s going to parties and has new friends, like how dare she! Wait a minute, didn’t you say you left the city? So how the hell do you know all that? Are you stalking her? Also, can we please retire this whole men-telling-women-what-they-are-and-where-they-belong-bullshit? We can make up our own minds, thank you very much. And if your booty call doesn’t want your dick anymore, that doesn’t mean she’s no longer a ‘good girl’. What even is that? And why should she follow your bullshit biased double standards for ‘being a good girl’? Why should anyone? Build a bridge and get over yourself, dude.

Item 3: To anyone wondering why I almost never wear earrings, it’s because my ears hate them. They will literally spit them out. As happened today when I lost the left one of my brand new pair of earrings. That no other store has, for some reason. Just fell out of the hole in my ear without so much as a by-your-leave. Dammit!

Item 4: Almost completely lost my appetite, somehow not losing weight, though. Not fair!

Item 5: Dear party of Slavic hobbits, this is a public subway train. First of all, why is none of you over five feet tall? Seriously. Something in the water where you’re from? Second of all, no amount of shoving or cuddling up against me will make me move. Mostly because moving has become impossible since roughly a hundred people have boarded the car simultaneously. Go find your wizard, he’ll explain this to you. What do you expect me to do, glue myself to the ceiling?

Item 6: I love my new winter jacket but it makes me look like an ogre. I’m at least one and a half times as broad as usual. But it has pockets!

Item 7: I’ve already had it with this month, seriously, I just want to sleep at this point. If I was to make a country of my own, it’s name shall be Hiber Nation. (Get it?)

Blergh. I don’t want to do anything anymore. I can haz vacation, pls?

Rant Day! Things That Had Me Like, “Arrrrgh!”, Nov 9 – 22

Item 1: Unable to sleep all night because Boyfriend has morphed into his alter ego El Snoro Malo the Mighty Snorer Before the Lord, debating with myself at 7 am whether to go to class, finally getting my ass out of bed and getting said ass ready to leave, and finding out that class was cancelled. Like… who’s the cosmic joker who was put in charge of my life? I want a name. I want a number. I want someone I can sue.

Item 2: So if I just ignored all my responsibilities and curled up somewhere for like a month or two, would that be a problem, d’you think?

Item 3: Doing advanced training. Is stressful. Not because of the content but because it’s a weird social situation. Who’s going to be there? How do I act? What do I wear? Business casual or more casual? What if I find no one to talk to? What if everyone hates me? Is this even worth my money? maybe I should just stay home. Which personality should I project? Perky and fun? Intelligent but a bit withdrawn? Slightly sarcastic? Very sarcastic? Slightly ditzy student with perky C cups? Hah, I wish…

And to the “Just be yourself” crowd, my self is having a panic attack, and therefore no help at all. Me “being myself” will probably end with another “Oh my god, why did I tell that spinach joke?” situation.

Item 4: The Negative Nancys that I call my loved ones. When I tell you I’m doing advanced training so I’ll have better job prospects, and when I tell you I’m taking more classes this semester so I can finish my degree sooner, and when I tell you I really have a lot of work to do and a stressful week, please refrain from using the following sentences: “What good is that going to do?”, “That will never work.”, “What, we can’t binge watch Doctor Who because you have some papers to write?”, “What, you’re going to do uni work on the weekend, too?”, “You’re wasting your money/time.”, “How can you be so stressed when you just have to read some stuff?”, “How hard can it be to type stuff?”

You. Are. Not. Helping. This is why I don’t tell you bitches anything.

Item 5: Never underestimate how mental work can exhaust you. And how hungry you get doing any sort of cerebral activity. Says I as the proud owner of aisle four.

Item 6: I still need a new bag. But I want a decent bag with lots of compartments and pockets on the inside, and affordable, thank you very much. And the only one I could find that fits my unreasonably high standards was in an American online store and shipping costs as much as the thing itself. And then there’s tax. And customs. And why the hell can’t I find a decent bag that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg and half a liver?!

Item 7: I’d love to complain more but I’ve got some research to do, bye.

Rant Day! Things That Pissed Me Off, Oct 12 – 18

Item 1: Remember how I spent all summer complaining about the heat? Yeah, well, now I’m cold. Is there no decent weather to be had on this rotten planet?

Item 2: Got up early, had breakfast, got dressed, was super motivated, only to find out my class was cancelled. Goddamnit!

Item 3: Why is it always the old male profs who are so hideously unorganised it makes me want to bash my brains out with a steel rod? Is that sexist? Is that ageist? I mean, yeah, maybe, but it’s also true. Like, any female prof and young male prof I ever had arrived in the first session all like, “Alright, attendance list, check. Waiting list, check. Sorry, you’re out, better luck next time. Here’s your reading list and your schedule for the semester, it also tells you how you are being graded, everyone take one, but it’s also online. Here’s a list with group presentation topics and dates, everyone pick one and collect contact addresses from your presentation colleagues. I’ll expect you to mail me your powerpoint slides at least two days in advance. You’ll also be writing your paper on this topic, short paper, about ten pages, just an fyi. Use any style sheet you’re comfortable with, but be consistent. On X date I’m not here, so there’s no class, on X date we’ll have our final exam, you’ll get to choose between two questions dealing with any of the literature we’ve discussed, you pick one, write a short essay, about 700 words. Deadline for your papers is X. My office hours are X, drop in any time. Any questions? No? Alright, let’s get this party started with an introduction to our topic and why the works on the reading list are significant.”

And every old male prof I ever had is like, “Alright, attendance… oh, no, why don’t I first tell you what this course is about, it’s not like you actually read the info when you signed up. How about I go on a tangent about why I love this particular book so much? Attendance? Oh, well, pass a list around. Who’s on the waiting list? Oh, we’ll get to that later. So anyway… [anecdote][tangent][unrelated thing] By the way, has anyone read any of the books on the reading list already? In another course maybe? Okay, well, don’t pick that one for your presentation. Have I mentioned you’re supposed to do a presentation? What, group or single? We’ll get to that later. Yes, about this book… [tangent] Right, why don’t we set some presentation dates? We’ll get to the exact topics later. Actually, let’s not bother with the topics right now, just see me in my office hour, I’ll think of something. Group presentation? Ah, well, if you think it’s necessary. Final exam? We’ll get to that later. Anyway, do you use X style sheet? Oh, there’s another? Alright, use that. But this one is very different from X style sheet, yes? Ah, well, I’ll think about which you can use. Okay, I changed my mind about topics, everyone presenting in November will have X work and everyone presenting in December will have Y work. Oh, there’s also January? Alright, you take Z work. Deadline for the paper? Oh, let’s say mid-December. Now, remember, I want you to use input from your in-class discussion in your paper. Let’s ignore completely how that’s not possible for anyone presenting after mid-December. Anyway, about this book [tangent][anecdote][entire class confused].”


Item 4: Why is it that in the first week of university everything goes wrong? And I mean everything at once. Like, full on, colleagues having hospital scale accidents. Is there something in the water?

Item 5: Public transport, my arch nemesis! Listen up, fuckboys, the tram is entirely the wrong place for establishing dominance by claiming territory. You don’t have territory here. People are moving all the time. And you’re in the way. That door is broken, I need to get to the other. I said “Excuse me” in a reasonable tone and volume. Thing 1, why don’t you get off the phone for two seconds to move your briefcase that’s in the middle of the aisle? Thing 2, don’t just stare at the wall, move your fat ass out of the way. Let me try again with a slightly louder “Excuse me”. No? Still no reaction? I might as well be thin air. Fine, gentlemen, nice knowing you, meet my umbrella! What? Don’t complain. Move yourselves or get moved.

Item 6: My eye’s hurting again and it’s torture. Also, I’m having the migraine attack from hell on the weekend and nothing is helping. Water, check. Tea, check. Moar water, check. Aspirin, check. Other medical stuff, check. Yoga, check. Nothing! And I so wanted to go to the night flea market! I’m noticing a trend here, every time I prepare to go out and do something fun my body is just like, “Nope!” It’s like the universe is telling me to stay home for reasons I can’t quite fathom and I hope this will make some fucking sense in the fucking future because right now it just feels twelve levels of unfair.

Sigh. I wear my suuuunglasses indoors, so I can, so I can, not die from pain because fuck these liiiights….

Rant Day! Things That Pissed Me Off, Oct 5-10

Item 1: Mayoral elections are coming up and its a mess. Basically, the government is putting a gun to our heads saying “Socialist or right-wing!” and I’m just over here like, “Pull the trigger.” One candidate has proven to be incompetent. The other one is known for shouting a lot but not getting anything useful done. All other parties are so minuscule right now they’ll never even get close to the town hall, so what’s the point? And if I see one more balding fat man slinging mud at another balding fat man I swear I’m going to go postal. Go home! Both of you! No one wants you here! Maybe I should run next time. I’ll establish the first Assassin’s Party. It’s a foolproof scheme. People will vote for me or else I’ll just have them meet with an accident! Then when I’m mayor, everyone will just do as I say unless they want to wake up with a knife in their back! Oh, we’re very conservative, we’re using the world’s oldest method of persuasion: shameless blackmail and old-fashioned violence. We’ll also dress in impeccable black suits. We’re not simple brutes, you know. Just gentlefolk who wish to extract the razorblades from the cotton candy of life. Mostly by stabbing the razorblades.

Item 2: They told us we’d get new windows in October. It is October. Well? I’m waiting. Hop to it. Look, I don’t want much in life, alright? But a couple windows where you don’t have to mop the floor every time it rains outside would be nice. Did you notice it’s been raining rather heavily lately? Well, did you? Because I did.

Item 3: My uterus is eating itself alive again and I’m in a lot of pain.

Item 4: Somehow my city managed to have a giant water main burst that brought all traffic to a standstill and made everyone late not once but twice this week. How old are those damn pipes? It’s not like it was freezing, so… how?

Item 5: I’ve had to take eye drops for over a month now and I still keep missing my eyes. How hard is it to drop the stuff into the eyeball and not literally everywhere else, up to and including nostrils? Extremely hard, apparently. My excuse is that I can’t see what I’m aiming at, which is completely true.

Item 6: People who design game characters who are meant to fight in 12 cm heels should be forced to wear heels for a week. Try doing anything routine and everyday in heels, let alone fight. Try walking for a start. I know there are some drag queens out there who can pack a punch in glittering stilettos but I guarantee you your character is not one of them and neither are you. Also, who keeps proclaiming from up high that torso protection is obsolete for females? Do female game characters have some sort of magical uterus shield that can ward off swords and arrows and whatever magic will get thrown at you? Because if they do I want that. Or do they just not have any vital organs in their mid-sections that need protection? Is that why they’re all so skinny? Do they just cram all their organs into their boobs? That would explain so much! (This complaint brought to you by Diablo III’s Demon Hunter and Barbarian designs.)

Arrgh. I think I’m finished. Anything you’d like to add?

Rant Day! Things That Pissed Me Off, Sep 17-25

Item 1: People who can’t google shit. I mean, I’d kinda get it if this was an older person, but it’s not. We’re supposed to be a technology obsessed generation, pal. Fucking act like it and google your very simple quest for information. I learned how to scramble eggs with the help of the internet and so can you. Only that you weren’t looking for how to scramble eggs, but you get the point.

Item 2: Boyfriend, aka Mister Oh-I-have-to-study-so-much who spent the last hour on the sofa gently snoring. On a day were you got up at noon. I thought we had this agreement that when I go to work and it’s your day off you do the day’s chores? No? Oh, we never made that agreement the day we moved in? Funny, I was so sure. Maybe in hindsight I should have gotten that in writing. But I’m absolutely certain we have not agreed upon you getting up at noon and then playing on the computer the entire day, then when I come home and ask you to do one simple task like loading the dishwasher suddenly remember you need to study like yesterday. Then take a nap on the couch.

Item 3: My flat is a mess. I hate it when my flat is a mess. I don’t even want to venture into the bathroom anymore. My sort-of job (I consider it to be only sort of because the pay is the monetary equivalent of a warm handshake and a good-natured old-man “Run along now, kiddo, run along”.) is keeping me uncharacteristically busy and somehow tiring me out enough to throw my OCD-esque cleaning schedule out of whack. Well, at least I know what I’ll do on the weekend. Or maybe after I finished my tea.

Item 4: Autumn. Expectation: colourful leaves, nice cool breezes, some last rays of sunshine. Reality: WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE, WE GOT LOTS OF RAIN! WE GOT FUCKING TONS OF RAIN, BASICALLY JUST RAIN! And wind that can apparently knock over small children and old people.

Item 5: I don’t know if it’s the ‘hood I live in or if it’s because I’m getting older but I’m receiving markedly more male attention. And by attention I mean unabashed stares courtesy of the 40+ crowd. Did someone spray paint “I need a sugar daddy” on my face when I wasn’t looking? I mean, not that I’d be averse…

Item 6: I’m growing into the kind of age group where people like to share tips with me on how to save money in the process of a wedding. Okay? Thanks? Why? I mean, yeah, you just got married, nice going there, but I’m not gonna, so… Fuck, maybe I’m just old. I’m so damn old. I’ll be saying this for the rest of my life and it won’t get any untruer.

Item 7: Sometimes I curse my habit for ridiculously long and complicated passwords because like hell can I log in to anything on my phone without at least four tries.

Item 8: Look, dude, if you wanna plan an event, you have to plan it. Not just throw it out there in a facebook chat and hope that things will work themselves out somehow. Look, it’s three simple steps to planning: 1) present idea, 2) find people to go along with it (and that doesn’t mean asking if someone’s interested, but asking who could do things or bring things), 3) delegate tasks and set deadlines. All the time working on the assumption, of course, that steps 1 and 2 were carried out in a reasonable time frame, which might be your first problem. Maybe I should lead a workshop? I’m kinda good at whipping other people into shape.

Item 9: So apparently the thing in my eye is not an infection. My eyes are merely so dry that the cornea is scratched and that’s why it hurts. So now I have to drop stuff into my eyes multiple times a day for the rest of my life like my 91 year old great aunt. This can only get worse with age, I’d like to sign up for eternal youth now.

Random Positivity: May assorted celestial creatures forever sing the praises of whoever invented the beverage by the name of London Fog.

Item 10: I used to hate this song, now I’ve been listening to it all week:

Rant Day! Things That Pissed Me Off, Sep 12-18

Item 1: So I spent all week sick as a dog, which has really thrown off my getting-things-done vibe. It started with a light cough on Sunday evening and ended with me being unable to sleep all night because my throat hurt so bad. Then the cough from hell started. Then the nose started. And then I had a resting heart rate of 90, that’s never a good sign, that’s like the immune system’s drums of war. And more hours of missed sleep. It’s always so weird how I can’t sleep when from a medical perspective sleep would be fucking ideal.

Item 2: I’m not digging the entire refugee situation, I don’t like how the EU is handling this. At all. So there might be the odd terrorist among those people fleeing over land or water in hopes of a better life, so what, there are terrorists in Germany, teenagers who were actually born in Germany and then run off to go to war in Syria. There’s always terrorists somewhere. There’s also always refugees coming here, there’s just more of them now because of the wars way over in the east. Problem is, you can’t just tell the IS to be nice and stop killing, raping and enslaving people. All I’m saying is, few people run from their homes with only the most essential things in hand, then walk until they find someone who takes their lives’ earnings to put them on a boat or a cramped truck, in which by the way they can easily die, then continue on foot for thousands of miles for the heck of it. No one does all this because it’s a nice pastime on Saturday night! Just distribute them all over the EU, tell the countries to stop bitching. Yes, I know there’s probably no jobs for refugees, there’s not even enough jobs for everyone who’s already here. But come on. This isn’t a political thing, it’s a human thing. At least let the women and children stay, how big of a chance is there that they’re terrorists?

Item 3: Communal elections are coming up. I swear, they start cropping up every year. I feel like every year I’m standing in another polling booth, surveying the menu of this political restaurant I have no desire to be in, and as always finding nothing that excites my appetite. That’s the problem with a multi party system, so many options, each equal in incompetence. To spice things up now there’s a Twitter thing happening, making fun of the right-wingers’ leading boy, and rightfully so, because that guy, pssshhhh, nah. That dude ain’t shit. They’re only flying so high in surveys right now because 1) the refugee situation makes everyone’s not-so-well-hidden xenophobia come out to play, 2) everyone’s had enough of the other damn parties. I, for one, have had enough of absolutely everyone and I think it’s time we start over, like literally throw everyone out of parliament and try that again, all y’all no-good bitches are getting on my nerves.

Item 4: Because I’ve been sick all week I could not do any amount of exercise except dragging myself to the kitchen for more tea. Goddamnit, first I can’t exercise because of the heat, and now because of my own lousy body?! It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to lose any damn weight! It’s really frustrating seeing people lose 100 pounds in a year and here I am, unable to drop five. Something’s not right here.

Item 5: TV ads are becoming increasingly stupid. Didn’t even think this was possible but apparently it is. Also, stop encouraging young men to use axe. The name of the stuff is also what it makes me want to do to its wearers: axe them. How did such a gross smelling product ever become so popular?

In other news: Boyfriend has still not discovered the cats so now I’m giving up. He’ll probably find them when we’re moving out, all like, “Okay, superhero figures go into this cardboard box… hey, wait a minute, how long has this been on there?!” – “Summer 2015.”

There’s Something In My Eye and No One Knows What It Is

For a few weeks now I’ve been having the worst trouble with my left eye. Somehow the inner corner always hurts really badly in the early morning, as if I had the eyelash from hell stuck in it. Only there isn’t an eyelash from hell stuck in it. There is absolutely nothing stuck in it. It just bloody hurts sometimes. Not even everyday. Just sometimes. And it goes away when I pull my lids in a weird way. And I mean, my body does weird hurty things sometimes, so I wasn’t too surprised. Instead I went down the list: Things stuck in the eye? Nope. Take moisturising eyedrops and wait a day. Done.

Allergic reaction to make-up? Throw everything out, don’t use eye make-up for a few days, wash all brushes, take eyedrops and wait. Done.

Allergic reaction to something else? Take eyedrops, clean flat, and wait. Done.

Something wrong with the lid maybe? Tape eye shut at a weird angle at night. Doesn’t hurt. Hm. Am I on to something? But do I want to keep my eye taped every night? Go to the doctor. Done… wait.

My eye doctor? On holiday. Her substitute? On holiday. My friend’s eye doctor? On holiday. My parents’ eye doctor? On holiday. Every other doctor in my district? On holiday. Every doctor in the surrounding districts? On holiday. Every other doctor I could reach? Booked until September.

Because I’m me, I only get ill when everyone’s on leave. Of fucking course.

So, dancing on the edge of a nervous breakdown, I went to the hospital today.

I hate hospitals. I spent a good part of my childhood in one and I didn’t like it. It’s unhygienic with all those sick people around. And you have to wait forever. And the porters are rude. And doctors in Austria generally have an annoying habit of not taking you very seriously. I don’t go to hospitals unless it’s an emergency, and it’s not an emergency until you’re bleeding out of places you shouldn’t be bleeding out of. But I’m kinda out of options.

In the hospital I promptly got lost because when the porter told me first corridor on the left my brain misfunctioned again and I was halfway to radiology before I decided this was not what I was looking for. So I went back to the starting point and tried again. And took the first corridor on the right.

I had an IQ test done when I was a child and it came back pretty high. You’d think that I’d be able to follow directions. I can’t. I also can’t read maps. The only way I get around town is by using the GPS on my phone and my city map app as a mini map like in World of Warcraft. I’m the reason every place needs huge honking signs everywhere, but what I’d really need are huge neon coloured blinking arrows pointing me in the right direction every two metres or so. This is why I will never fly a spaceship. Like, imagine me on a mission to the Andromeda galaxy and they tell me “Okay, captain, you take a left turn at Saturn”, and I’d turn right and discovery three new galaxies and fifteen different slightly confused alien species before NASA would be like “This is ground control to Andromeda I, where the hell are you?!”

I got to the eye ambulance eventually, and I’m sure I will make for excellent break room talk today.

So I sit and wait. Because it’s a hospital, I’m completely prepared. I can camp out all day. I brought water and my new shiny laptop-tablet-hybrid which my mom made my dad buy me (a while ago I mentioned in passing that I was going to buy myself a small light tablet for uni work in September, and my mother looked at my dad, looked at me, and said, “I’m sure your father is feeling generous, aren’t you, dear?” And because my dad is a happily married man for a reason he nodded in defeat.) I even figured out how to use my phone as a wifi hotspot and I had some master thesis related PDF files to read through anyway.

I waited all of ten minutes. And got lost on my way to the examination room.

The doctor looked like he was fresh out of university and already hated every aspect of this. I made a brief summary of my eye problem and doc went to have a look at the offending body part. Which proved to be really difficult because I have the most nervous eyes in the history of ever. I blink like I’m trying to give myself a seizure when something gets near my eye. Doc had to call the nurse over to hold my eye lid still with some sort of medical chopstick.

“Well, you probably have a mild eye infection…”

Two words I don’t like to hear in the context of medicine: ‘probably’ and ‘mild’. Mild shouldn’t hurt like this. And, probably? You mean you’re not sure? And that’s why I’m all for over the counter antibiotics, if you’re not sure and I’m not sure, let me just experiment instead of spending the better part of an hour on public transport to come here.

“… so I’m going to give you some eye drops and I want you to check in with your regular doctor in a week.”

I mention that everyone is on holiday. He says to go to whoever is not and gives me a card that basically says, Hello Mr/Mrs eye physician, this patient here comes from the hospital so you have to take them on. It even has the official stamp.

And now I’m at home and hope to hell this shit works for my eye because I already miss mascara. And I have to get my mom a decent mobile phone plan tomorrow, that’s going to be fun.