Whinging Wednesday - What's Up With That Horatio Caine?

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How typical! This is exactly the kind of unnatural pose you'd expect to find of Horatio Caine. In case you don't know who he is, (lucky you!) he's the head of the CSI Miami team, played by David Caruso. His series of actions in each painful episode is extensively and redundantly choreographed: a foolish pose, a sideways glance for no particular reason (but to show what he must think is his 'good' side), and then a deliberate slow removal of those daft dark glasses he puts on just to take off. 

Whinging Wednesday - Shoes That Tone Your Bottom

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Don't know if you've been given the news yet, but the market is awash with shoes that plump your bottom. Yay! No need for that planned surgery any more. I know this sounds a bit crazy, but you've got to hear me out.


All you have to do to tone your gluteus maximus (the muscle - or pocket of flesh - that is your bottom) is buy these shoes and wear them. Seriously, there is no need for exercise, no need for eating right, nothing. Forget all the years and effort you put into climbing up and down the steps, wearing out your cheap, multicoloured stairs carpet. 


Never mind all the rides you turned down just so you could walk an extra block to give those babies a boost. Don't even think about all the hours wasted at that expensive gym, where you swallowed your pride and got on that awkward, uppy, downy machine which makes your bottom wiggle and jiggle. And the times you looked all stupid climbing the stairs at work when all the J-lo haters were taking the stairs - forget about it!


These new and improved shoes come with a built-in plan. They do just what they say they will. Honest! I give you my word they'll work. After all, I have seen this advert on the telly. 


Have a bonfire and get rid of your hated rowing machine and gym bikes that take up so much space in your living rooms and conservatories. It's not like you use them anyway. Of course, you meant to when you got them home from the store, but by the time you'd finished paying (with interest) for them, the excitement had faded, and frankly, you don't have the time.


The diet? You can forget that too. These shoes are the bees' knees. They are all you need for a toned, fit, attractive tushy. Buy them and yours would be the talk of the town. 


Come on (insert name of very popular sports shoes manufacturers, think something that rhymes with 'zeepoc') who do you think you're kidding? While I must admit I love watching the lovely bums on my television screen, (maybe even much more than my husband does, but that's an issue I will take up with my shrink if I ever do get one) I don't for one minute believe that mere shoes can do wonders to any part of my body. This has got the 'too good to be true' story written all over its sole. 


Skechers Women's Shape Up-Strength Fitness Walking Shoe,Black/White,10 M US
The link is for those who want to see what they are.

Whinging Wednesday - Mobile Phone Nuisance

My husband often travels to work by train because his office is in a city which is two and a half hours away. His favourite complaint is about noisy people in 'quiet' carriages. They actively ignore carriages where everyone is chatting and playing with their phones, to sit in  the designated 'quiet' carriages to indulge in loud activities. One would think that if you plan on being noisy, the last place you'll choose to sit is in an area other than the quiet zone.


Anyway, last week I had to go to Wales on the train. Usually, I do this trip by car, but because I was going to an entirely new place and wasn't sure about how to get there, taking the train was a better option for me. I'm usually a stressed traveller. I'm terrible at finding my way around so I depend heavily on directions from the station announcers and arrival/departure boards. In the waiting area, was a woman sitting beside me loudly chatting on her phone oblivious to everything around her. Trains came and went, doors slid and shut, but on she went, babbling and cackling on her little sweet box glued to her ear.


There was a slight change in the my train journey. While the boards were being updated, the announcer informed us of the new plans. As the voice on the loudspeaker rose, the woman beside me talked even louder into her phone. I strained my ears to hear what was being said about my train, but the constant squealing next to me drowned out any chance I had of comprehension. When the voice paused for breath, so did the woman. As the voice started to speak again, so did she - into her phone. When the voice rose in pitch, so did she (I suppose so that the person with whom she spoke could hear her better). She ignored the fact that people sitting in the waiting room with her actually wanted to hear the announcement. The only thing important to her was passing time chatting about nothing on her mobile phone.


How inconsiderate!


Years ago I remember thinking how convenient mobile phones were. Now I think they're a big fat nuisance. Inconsiderate people everywhere have found their place in society. They pollute the world with their consistent and inconsequential babbling. Now that they have mobile phones, we all have to suffer as we listen to them go on and on and on; constant rubbish tumbling out of their mouths.

Whinge finished. What winds you up?

Whinging Wednesday - Reality TV: And The Winner Is...

I’m not a fan of reality TV, but I do watch the X-Factor and I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here. For my American friends, American Idol is the American version of the X-Factor. I’m a Celebrity... sees forgotten (in most cases) celebrities who’re staging a come-back of sorts, dumped into the Australian jungle. They’re required to complete stomach churning tasks like chewing on kangaroo testicles to ‘win’ food for the group. They get whittled down one by one until the last man/woman left standing is crowned king or queen of the jungle.

My whinge today is about the hosts of these programmes. Have you noticed (though I can’t imagine you haven’t) the length of time it takes them to say who’s going home on a particular night?

'And the person going home tonight is...' and you waste valuable seconds and minutes of your life waiting for them to say the name. Just say the name already! You scream at the TV and hide your face behind your hands while they stand there, panning from face to face, squeezing the last bit of patience out of the poor, panic-stricken people on stage.

...And you're still waiting for a name.

Why does this have to be done in this way? Do the producers of these shows think that we, the viewers get our kicks from seeing the competitors (celebrity or not) cringe to the point of breathlessness? What is the perceived advantage of this tactic and how does it help the show?

I have to admit it does nothing but annoy me, making me less likely to watch more episodes of the show.

...Still waiting.

Whinging Wednesday - Swearing On The Internet

I’ve been thinking about this for a while because I know this particular whinge will upset some people. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I can’t share my strong feelings on my own blog, where else can I do so?


We have all seen junk left abandoned on the side of our roads. Some people obviously think it’s fine to publicly display their trash. But that leaves us who get rid of our old sofas and fridges responsibly, putting up with other people’s rubbish in our collective public faces.

Many people smoke in their own homes. They enjoy smoking as a hobby, and this is okay with the rest of us. Not all of us smoke, however. Some folks feel strongly against the habit, and hate to inhale a lungful of second hand cigarette smoke when someone in a public place has walked by, exhaling a mouthful of the stuff.

We all know people who smoke dope. We know they do it in the confines of their own space. Yet, and rightfully so, we don’t expect them to subject our children to puffs of second-hand marijuana smoke, nor would we condone them lighting up when they come over for a visit.

Not everyone believes that smacking children as a form of discipline is right. Not everyone believes that it’s wrong. Nevertheless, we won’t excuse a parent for resorting to this type of discipline in a public forum. We would be appalled that someone would even attempt to do this in any other place than inside their own home. Some less-than-men hit their wives/girlfriends in private, fully aware that this trashy behaviour is not tolerated by the majority of us.

The bottom line is, if you indulge in behaviour considered to be anti-social you should be careful not to stand in front of a fan when you’re out and about. Many people would be revolted by the actions of the above perpetrators, yet they themselves are happy to generously share their swear words with the rest of us.

Not everyone swears, and like cigarette smoke, it’s something you should puff at people who enjoy doing it as much as you do. How is it not okay for Mr X to dump his old coffee table on the side of your road, but it’s fine for you to let loose swear words in the street in the presence of my young children?

You can agree it’s vile for parents to smack their kids in public as a form of discipline. But it’s dandy for you to type several swear words in a public forum on the Internet and leave them there for me to read.

You despise the guy in the other car who’s picking his nose and flicking the boogers out of his side window, but you’re happy to leave dirty words, smeared from your finger tips, all over the web.

I’m done.

You’re a writer? Then write some real words to express yourself. Go get rid of your trash responsibly.

Whinging Wednesday (Joining Blogs to Leave Comments)

More and more I’m encountering blogs that ask you to join or sign in before you’re allowed to make a comment on their post. Now, I’m not the most learned blogger out there, but surely this does more harm than good.


Why do I have to be an exclusive ‘member’ of any blog? I follow quite a few, and make an effort to support them by way of commenting on their pages. I don’t understand the idea of insisting that your readers join up before being able to contribute. I see my reader’s comments as an honour to me, not the other way around.


Whenever I remember, I determine whether or not ‘joining’ is required before I try to leave a comment. Nevertheless, I do forget in the heat of the moment and feel like kicking myself for wasting my own time when I get to the ‘submit your comment’ panel, only to be confronted by a message that asks me to sign in or join up.


Yesterday, I had to make a comment I thought was very important. When I got to the end of the comment panel and realised the site was ‘one of those’ I decided that I would after all join up, just so I could leave my comment. I started to fill out the dreaded form. Name, address, email address, country, postcode, annual earnings, Hold on! They want to know my annual earnings!


No way.


I left the site. That was the last time they’ll see me. I’ll take my comments elsewhere, thank you.


And what bizarre question has someone asked you lately?

Whinging Wednesday - Shopping Trolleys in Supermarkets

People with shopping trolleys in supermarket aisles.



Need I say more?


They park their trolleys in the middle of the aisle, oblivious to the rest of all the other shoppers in the store. You stand behind them, really close, so that you’re almost breathing down their necks, hoping that by some miracle, they’ll notice that you want to go by.

Nothing.

You give up waiting to be noticed, so you say quite politely, ‘excuse me’ with a Canadian-type question mark elevation at the end of your voice. Nothing! For crying out loud!

They haven’t even got their backs turned to you. How can they not see you, a full-sized human being standing there! You clear your throat, because you think your voice may not have come out right the first time. ‘Excuse me.’ What! They’re still buzzard-inspecting the lamb chops as if it were a maggot infested sheep lying in the pasture.

‘Ah, pardon me, but can I get through please.’ Restraint is key here, just keep it under control. Keep it under control.

They look at you with their beady eyes and indignantly move the trolley as if they’re doing you a favour. Have you noticed that it’s mainly elderly - scratch that – senior people who do that. Well, maybe people with little kids too. What’s wrong with you people!

Whinging Wednesday

Welcome to my 'Whinging Wednesday' posts. The first one is the original whinge post appearing in its entirety. The subsequent (weekly-ish) whinges are linked below with short descriptions of each one. Just click on the heading of the one you wish to read and it will take you to the individual post.

Whinge Wednesday - Making it Difficult to Leave Comments

Many of my good friends and blogging colleagues dutifully display a fantastic weekly entry on their blogs called, ‘Wordless Wednesday.’ They showcase exquisite designs and photography. These items evoke such profound emotions, words themselves would cheapen them.


Me on the other hand, with no particular flair for photography, and not the slightest inclination to exhume my glory days of knitting and cross-stitching, have decided to host a ‘Whinging Wednesday instead.’


Wednesday, personified is a wrinkled, wrathful, wretched wife uncomfortably sandwiched between workaholic husbands and wayward, children. It’s the perfect day for a whinge!


So what am I cross about today? You must have encountered blogs that do the following:

• You leave a comment and the page refreshes. You think your comment has been saved so you get ready to move on your jolly way.
• However, because you’re careful, you check just to make sure.
• Nothing happens for a second, then this message pops onto your screen, ‘Your request could not be processed. Please try again.’
• You click ‘post your comment’ again. Surely this time it’s going to take (how difficult can it be, right?).
• The page takes a bit longer to refresh the second time but then comes up with your comment still not posted, asking you for a word verification. What?
• You type that in, trying not to bang too hard on your already worn computer keys. You ‘post comment’ for a third time before it finally takes. Am I the only person who this gets to?

What is your whinge this Wednesday? Let it all out so we could fume together.

And here are the other whinge posts:

Hard Copy Only 

I often wonder how it benefits writers for Literary Agents to request hard-copy manuscripts only. We toil at the computer from morning until night time. We neglect our families and hair appointments so that we could finish that all-important chapter (all the chapters are important, right?). We stalk Agents’ sites and listings so that we could pick the perfect one for our genre. We find one after hours of searching, only to read, ‘Sorry e-mail submissions not accepted.’


Your And You're

We all have our nemesis where the English language is concerned. For me, it’s words that end in ‘tor’ or ‘ter.’ I know, I know, for you it’s easy and you can't understand why I can’t spell. Well, on the flip side, many people (and writers) don’t know the difference between your and you’re, while I think it’s a piece of bake (or is that cake?). As we all know, ‘your’ is a possessive pronoun which denotes ownership.


Shopping Trolleys in Supermarkets

They park their trolleys in the middle of the aisle, oblivious to the rest of all the other shoppers in the store. You stand behind them, really close, so that you’re almost breathing down their necks, hoping that by some miracle, they’ll notice that you want to go by.



Joining Blogs To Leave Comments
 
More and more I’m encountering blogs that ask you to join or sign in before you’re allowed to make a comment on their post. Now, I’m not the most learned blogger out there, but surely this does more harm than good.
 
Swearing On The Internet 
 
I’ve been thinking about this for a while because I know this particular whinge will upset some people. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I can’t share my strong feelings on my own blog, where else can I do so?


Reality TV; And The Winner Is... 

I’m not a fan of reality TV, but I do watch the X-Factor and I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here. For my American friends, American Idol is the American version of the X-Factor. I’m a Celebrity... sees forgotten (in most cases) celebrities who’re staging a come-back of sorts, dumped into the Australian jungle. They’re required to complete stomach churning tasks like chewing on kangaroo testicles to ‘win’ food for the group. They get whittled down one by one until the last man/woman left standing is crowned king or queen of the jungle.


Mobile Phone Nuisance



My husband often travels to work by train because his office is in a city which is two and a half hours away. His favourite complaint is about noisy people in 'quiet' carriages. They actively ignore carriages where everyone is chatting and playing with their phones, to sit in  the designated 'quiet' carriages to indulge in loud activities. One would think that if you plan on being noisy, the last place you'll choose to sit is in an area other than the quiet zone.


OMG, LOL, ROTFLMAO


I've reached a point in my social networking life where my brain involuntarily sets fire to my eyes when I see OMG and LOL. 
Does anyone write messages these days without including one or the other? At first when they arrived on the web scene (when I still had to figure out what they meant) they were sort of cute and entertaining. Months later I was still ignorantly, blissfully convinced LOL meant 'lots of love.' After all, nothing about what was said preceding the LOLs was remotely funny. It's no wonder I didn't catch on. 


Shoes That Tone Your Bottom



Don't know if you've been given the news yet, but the market is awash with shoes that plump your bottom. Yay! No need for that planned surgery any more. I know this sounds a bit crazy, but you've got to hear me out.



What's Up With That Horatio Caine



In case you don't know who he is, (lucky you!) he's the head of the CSI Miami team, played by David Caruso. His series of actions in each painful episode is extensively and redundantly choreographed: a foolish pose, a sideways glance for no particular reason (but to show what he must think is his 'good' side), and then a deliberate slow removal of those daft dark glasses he puts on just to take off.