Category: Lifestyle

Disconnected

Lifestyle, Technology

I read this guy’s story with something akin to dread:

And that’s when I realized that little by little, my phone had gotten the best of me.

I’ve often prided myself on one of the few people not shackled to my phone, but after reading this guy’s story, I chided myself for my arrogance.

As much as I hate to admit it, my phone is now an integral part of my existence, as much as my glasses or my car.

We’ve been one-carring it since the beginning of the week — first, my car had to (finally) get completely fixed after my collision with the highway crocodile a few weeks ago, which meant that while New Wife was driving to and from work, I sat at home, isolated.  Then I had to get some errands done (Rx refills etc.) so I had to drive her to and from work for a day.  Then, just as we were going to pick up the Tiguan, I got this call:  “My check engine light just came on.”

So we picked up my car and dropped hers off, to get the oil changed as well as getting whatever the warning light entailed seen to.  All manageable (except the total repair cost for the two cars — I’m going to have to sell a gun or two, and I’m not kidding), but having one car was an inconvenience, really.

However:  had my phone disappeared on me during this time, that would have been simply catastrophic.  Calls to the auto repair shop, calls to New Wife to organize pickup times… the list of critical calls was far longer than I was comfortable with.  And don’t even ask me how I’d have got through to anyone without my phone’s contact list.

Like many people nowadays, we don’t have a landline phone in the apartment.  But I’m starting to rethink that — or else I’m going to get a no-contract burner phone for emergencies.

This modern life is bullshit, and it sucks green donkey dicks.

Alternatives

Lifestyle

Via the Knuckledragger, I see this little exercise:

Get Taylor Swift front row seats, or buy this instead

Given that I would rather be boiled in oil than have to sit through a Taylor Swift concert, never mind caught at a distance where I would be sprayed by her saliva as she mimes her way through her dreadful repertoire, it’s an interesting thought:

What’s a decent way to blow $11,000 (!) instead of a front-row ticket in Hell?

The guidelines are:  assume that you have no debts to pay off, and that the eleven grand is just to be spent on yourself.  What would give you the greatest satisfaction or enjoyment?  (Be as silly as you want;  one of the suggestions in the article was to buy yourself a pallet of Arizona Iced Tea — which for me, by the way, would be only marginally less horrible than the aforementioned concert ticket.)

You can choose to spend it on just one thing, or on several.

Your suggestions in Comments;  my choices will be below the fold.

Read more

Cultural Tastes

Food & Drink, Lifestyle

This is an interesting topic only insofar as it reinforces something I’ve believed for a long time:

‘Eating with your hands is scientifically proven to improve texture and the flavour of food, as well as a whole host of health benefits. It’s something more people should know about and get to grips with.

‘Many of the world’s most popular foods are eaten with the hands – think burgers, tacos, tortilla, wraps, and wings, so why can’t other foods be as well?

‘Eating with our hands helps to make us more mindful about what we are eating and heighten our dining experience, rather than just thoughtlessly using cutlery like we always do.

‘The fork gets in the way and separates you from your senses.’

Like many South African kids of my vintage, I had a Black “mommy” — technically a live-in housemaid, but in reality much, much more than that.  When I was little more than a baby, while doing the housework Mary would carry me around on her back, held there by a blanket wrapped around herself, thus:

Put a White face on that kid, and you’d have me.  (My feet still point outwards when I walk, a common trait among people carried in this fashion.)

Anyway, I remember asking Mary why Blacks didn’t use knives and forks when they ate.  Her response was interesting:  “How do White people taste their food?”

And she was right.  It really does make a difference.

Now, I’m not going to follow the thing to its illogical conclusion like the guy does in the linked article;  some foods should only be eaten with a utensil — I draw the line when it comes to eating slushy foods like pasta and soup, for instance.  (And forget eating with mouth open, as he proposes — that’s just disgusting.)

But as he points out, we do eat many solid foods with our hands:  pizza, hamburgers and assorted sandwiches are all eaten by hand — and this extends to foods best eaten by hand, such as ribs, sausages and similar delicacies.

As much as I enjoy eating with my hands, I do draw the line at doing so in a restaurant setting (unless at a BBQ or picnic, where anything goes, as it should).  But at home?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to make my normal breakfast of boerewors, a boiled egg and cheese chunks.

All to be eaten by hand.

And by the way, Charles Spence is a psychologist, not a scientist.

Kettles, Pots And Pans

Fashion, Lifestyle

When it comes to morality, the modeling world is pretty much an untapped pit — unlike the pudenda of its denizens, which have traditionally been tapped more often than kegs at a German beer festival.

So forgive me if I’m untroubled by the teacupstorm of disapproval about supermodel Heidi Klum appearing alongside her (18-year-old) daughter in some Italian lingerie brand.  I know, you want to see what all the fuss is about, so here it is:

Several thing suggest themselves, of course:  Heidi is still beautiful at whatever her age is (couldn’t be bothered to look it up) and her daughter is very pretty, for any age.  And Italian lingerie companies collectively have the morals of stoats when it comes to the age of their models, so I’m frankly surprised that they waited till the girl turned 18.

And speaking of stoatish morality, one of the tut-tutters about this situation has been none other than Ol’ Margarine-Legs herself, Ulrika Jonsson, who in her younger years gave birth to four children by four different men:

“I would never pose with my daughter like Heidi Klum…. it’s wrong and makes me feel deeply uneasy”

Ahem…

And by the way, she has no compunction about featuring herself with her daughter, just on an unpaid basis:

Other people, apparently, share Ulrika’s opinion:

“I wouldn’t model sexy lingerie with my mom”
“Sexualizing your daughter the moment they turn legal is weird”

Ah, such self-righteous bollocks makes me sick. And no Italian lingerie company has offered any of these people, including the wrinkled and rather bedraggled-looking Ulrike, millions of euros to do any of that, so we’ll never really know just how strong their principles are.

Here are the pics which seem to have caused all the ruckus:

I think they’re quite charming, actually.

And like her mother, Lena Klum is gorgeous, with better boobs.

Rock, Meet Hard Place

Advice, Guy Stuff, Lifestyle

Via Reader Mike L. I get this bit of news:

In Missouri, where abortion is illegal, Planned Parenthood sees surge in vasectomies

Doesn’t surprise me.

I had mine done in 1997, some time after my 43rd birthday, and have never looked back.  Frankly, I think that any man who doesn’t have it done by age 45 is asking for trouble, whether or not abortion is legal.  (If your Missus has had her tubes tied or her factory is otherwise disabled, then fine — but be aware that as long as the little swimmers are still there, you can still become a Daddy regardless of the recipient thereof.  I shudder just at the thought.)

And let’s not forget that nowadays you can be stuck with child support payments even if you’re not the daddy — but having had your tubes tied, such an eventuality is highly unlikely if not impossible.

I must admit that back in the times when I did this kind of thing on an ad-hoc basis, it was a real comfort to know that the old production pole had been turned into a joystick.

I Hate This

Food & Drink, Lifestyle, Two-Minute Hate

From City Journal:

Restaurants supply physical nourishment, but their ultimate contribution to life is spiritual. From the bonds forged with dining partners to the camaraderie shared with fellow patrons to the banter exchanged with staff, dining out is a social, aesthetic experience. But QR codes are ruining it. More than a superficial nuisance, they are a sign of cultural decline.

Whenever I go to a restaurant and am confronted with this nonsense, I ignore it and demand to get a paper menu.  Usually, I get strange looks from the staff and eventually get a plain photocopied list, with no pictures of the dishes.

Suits me fine;  I know what a burger looks like, ditto schnitzel, ditto spaghetti bolognaise, ditto pretty much everything I care to eat.

Although it hasn’t happened yet, if I’m ever told that I can only order a meal through my phone, I’ll get up and walk out.  I hate using my fucking phone at the best of times, and to sit there squinting at a list of dishes in tiny type with microscopic pictures is guaranteed to put me  in a terrible mood — not the ideal customer a restaurant wants, because then I’m going to find fault with almost everything that happens thereafter.

I’ve already griped about concrete walls/floors and loud music, so I’m not going to repeat it all here.

I know all about the cost of labor and the difficulty in finding decent waiters and waitresses nowadays, and I don’t care.  I want the personal touch when I go out to eat, and you can forget that drive-through shit, too — hell, if I ever go to a fast-food restaurant (a highly infrequent event), I park the car and walk inside to place my order.

I was never a fan of “casual dining” to begin with, other than as a family/friends event, or being out of town where I have no option.  But as this move towards impersonal- and remote service seems to be growing, the less likely I’m going to be found eating out.

A pox on all of them, and on this so-called modern life.