Frayed Nerves

I’ve been pretty good, I’d say. I’ve not written a rubbish post since May. Of course, this also means I’ve only been blogging like, once a month, proving once and for all that writing would’ve been a horrible career option for me.

It’s been ages since I wrote random rubbish, so here we go!

A few weeks back, we had our Occupational Diseases’ cycle. The guy from The Making Out Couple was there. If you don’t know this, I hate him. He’s an annoying apple polisher who makes out with his girlfriend pretty much any time the teacher is not looking. Bastard. This time around, he was sans girlfriend and looked really skinny.The vampire-loving ones in my group decided that he looked like Edward Cullen, making him cute (I still can’t remember whether that’s the actor’s name or the fictional character’s, so you can tell that was two fucks I didn’t care about.)

To top it off, he was fucking the class up. I wasn’t over the moon or anything, but it certainly felt better to see the teacher get exasperated with him rather than call him brilliant and all that other junk. I know, I know. I’m SUCH a petty bitch and all that. Let’s continue.

Turns out, this slump lasted all of two days. He was back on form after the weekend and aced the class like he’s been doing since he could babble coherently or something. You must be wondering why I despised some guy I’ve never even spoken to. Trust me, I was wondering the same. Seriously, what was it about this guy that made me want to kick him in the shin?

I found my answer on the last day. Turns out, he wants to be a neurosurgeon. I have nothing against neurosurgery, just the surgeons. They all seem to be cocky bastards who look down upon others. This awful personality is not something that comes instantly once they become neurosurgeons; it’s something that takes form and develops from med school just so they’re the right degree of syphilitic cunt by the time they’re done specialising.

I’m not usually this big on stereotypes, especially when it’s merely an observation made by me and my roommate about a few people we know. I’m probably wrong. I’m sure there are some nice ones out…oh, look! Is that a zebronkey trotting down the street?

Boys and Eyes

This blog is moving so slowly, snails want to give it a ride. I’ve been wanting to post stuff for a while, but nothing good has come to mind. Until now, when I’m on sick leave and probably experiencing mild intoxication.

For reasons unknown, I’ve been ogling guys like a lusty wench (far more socially acceptable than a crazy wench.) Most of my lusting takes place sat in front of my laptop, which makes me kinda loser-ish but whatever. My latest loin-crush is thanks to @nosweetnothings on Twitter, who mentioned a player from the French rugby team during the Rugby World Cup finals. Curious to see her specimen of choice, I Googled the team and came across a very lovely calendar called Dieux du Stade (Gods of the Stadium) instead. This is where I found him:

He is Thomas Combezou, the something for Montpellier HĂ©rault Rugby Club. Okay, okay I’m not that shallow. He plays centre. From my “research” I’ve gathered that his job is mainly to tackle anyone who has the ball. What else could I come up with after seeing practically every photo of him playing with his face in somebody’s ribs?

Me lusting over him and making it known to the whole world even before blogging about it has resulted in two things: bacterial conjunctivitis and the catty side in guys. Well, the latter has always been there, but Combezou is the one that helped me get some clarity on the matter.

First, let’s talk about the conjunctivitis. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but I think prolonged staring at hot/cute guys results in me getting some sort of grotesque eye issue. You may think I’m being silly, but when it has happened three times, people stop laughing.

1. In November 2007, I discovered the awesomeness that is Gerard Butler in the movie “300.” He was big, ripped, in minimal clothing and killing other men violently. My knees were liquid. I also had a subconjunctival hemorrhage that took 2 weeks to get better.

2. In January 2009, I watched Seungri’s music video for “Strong Baby.” It’s not much, if I want to be honest about it, but something about him and that slight hint of developing rectus abdominis made me like him. Bam! Kerato-conjunctivitis for 3 weeks, followed by another subconjunctival hemorrhage. That was a total of FIVE weeks with a shitty looking eye.

3. November 2011 (are you seeing a pattern here? I am.) I am blessed with the knowledge that a sculpture like Thomas Combezou exists. After just a week of gazing upon his (insert any word that describes Adonis-like perfection) I have bacterial conjunctivitis. My eyes are spewing colonies and their by-products, and I’m praying that it will be gone in a few days.

Now, about boys being catty.

I’ve gone on about how crazy and ridiculous women can be sometimes, but I’ve never really touched on the topic of male behaviour. I have a fairly decent number of guy friends, and they’re all lovely chaps. Some girls even want to date them. *snigger*

These guys are also the ones who call us girls petty and jealous when they point out an attractive woman and we don’t agree with them. This is their classic line:

“you girls can never admit that another girl is beautiful, there’s always some justification. Look at us guys; if another man is handsome, we have no problem admitting it.”

BOLLOCKS.

Guys can only say that another man is attractive when THEY are the ones pointing it out. If us girls point a handsome or physically attractive man out, these are the most likely responses:

“steroids”

“gay”

“small penis”

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!!”

Usually, these words further prove to me that my eye-candy is indeed hot and bonk-worthy. I heard all of the above when I showed my guy friends that picture. Perfect.

Not only that, it shows that men and women aren’t very different when it comes to being envious. Women are capable of looking at other females and thinking that they’re attractive too, just not the ones you fellas point out.

Oh, my snail’s here. I’ll see you around!