Pump up the volume

I could complain about this forever, but I don't want to sound too old or bitter...

Seriously, what is going on with the decibel levels emitted by regular, every day people? On the street at traffic lights, on the train, in restaurants, in the apartment above me... people talking somehow manages to be louder than traffic, television, music on my iPod. I don't understand how two people sitting or standing within a few feet of each other need to speak so loudly that (a) they are pretty much shouting already and (b) they don't realise that the rest of the planet can hear them.

Sometimes, I'm quite tempted to pay attention for 2 minutes (I wouldn't call it eavesdropping, since they are the ones yelling into my ear canal), and then join in the conversation, amazing them by "you know, like, totally, OMG, yeah" understanding what they were going on about.

Most times though, I have to restrain myself from finding the nearest large, blunt object...

Tell me I didn't just see that

I love a nice hoodie. They have a hood, they're comfortable, you can wear them in mild weather on their own, or team them up with a jacket in cooler weather and still look good. You can even sometimes have a choice between zipped and unzipped.

But, excuse me for a moment. When the hell did almost anything with a hood and maybe a zip, turn so frakin' ugly?

Look, I get it. I'm getting older, and the kids are wearing all sorts of stuff these days. But the rise of the fluoro geometric wallpaper vomit that are the styles and patterns on most hoodies these days is inexplicable.

Since when did "stylish" and "trendy" become so diametrically opposite? This look might be trendy, but it sure fails the stylish test. It doesn't even pass the "vaguely socially acceptable" and "doesn't actually burn my retinas with ugliness" tests either. And yet the guys (and girls) who wear this stuff prance and preen around the streets like they don't actually realise they look like they arer wearing the contents of dumpster from behind a fashion house of the 1980's that have fallen from the sky, detoured via a paintball game, got stuck in traffic and then played a game of pin-the-ugliness-on-the-twit-who-thinks-they-don't-look-like-East-17. My god, did that sentence even make sense?

Match your favourite hoodie with a pair of narrow black jeans, a luminous pink cap turned sideways and a pair of dirty Cons for a look that just screams "I have no sense, no taste, no style, no clue, can I borrow the latest trend from General Pants and copy every single one of my friends to prove how hip and unique I truly am? Now please misspell something on my Myspace, thanks".

I would try and slap sense into these sheep, but it ain't worth the effort.


Note: this post is brought to you by the guy who wore a black toga (happily coined a "Melbourne cliche toga") and sandals on Friday night.

That elusive balance

I haven't really said much recently here mainly because, quite frankly, I've been spending 10-12 hours a day at a computer at work for the past two weeks, and the last thing I feel like doing when I get home is typing more. I even missed having a day off for Queens Birthday weekend.

So, in the grand scheme of work-life balance, the work end of the scales is tipping a little bit too far over.

Don't get me wrong - I'm being extraordinarily productive, and much of this long-hours syndrome is by choice (although, if I didn't stay back to get stuff done, then it wouldn't really get done in time at all by anyone else, so "choice" is perhaps false advertising). At least, I don't have anyone standing over my desk telling me that I "have to stay back". If that happened, I think I would want to hit them in the face.

Should only be for a few more weeks though, and then hopefully those scales start balancing out properly. Now, if only all the effort got rewarded in an appropriate way, then I might be happy with work...

Showing my age?

Two things I just wanted to comment on... perhaps these topics show my age? My slow loss of coolness? I don't know.

1. Why the f*ck can't anyone younger than me spell properly any more? Seriously. It isn't even just spelling, it is general grammar and comprehensibility. Sure, I'm occasionally guilty of messing around with words ("'cause" instead of "because", and often "kinda" instead of "kind of"), but just reading the extreme ineptitude of the wording of messages on Myspace pages (or watching that Vodafone ad with the girl who only speaks in acronyms, or reaing that schools in NZ were going to allow "text-speak" in exam answers...) makes my head want to explode. If I ever create my own Myspace space, I'd ban anyone who ever left a mess of a message...substituting "8" for an word with "ate" in it, or "luv" instead of "love", all of it. What freaks me out is the fact that it probably takes longer to type words incorrectly (on a keyboard or mobile phone keypad) as opposed to just typing them correctly, or letting predictive text or spell check clean everything up. Even more worrying is if spelling like this comes naturally to these kids... then we are developing entire generations of complete linguistic f*ck-ups. Bodes well for the future of the human race.

2. Guys and their narrow, tight jeans these days. I'm not going to try and analyse the what/why of this "fashion" trend (I'll leave that to those more qualified than I - Footpath Zeitgeist) but what really freaks me out is that, after the world has somewhat calmed down with the hip-hop culture-influenced baggy jean trend, stick figure guys are busting out the narrow leg denim with the crotch hanging somewhere near their knees. What is the point of this look? On what planet of what universe does this look good? I don't get it... they certainly aren't doing it to display stylish underwear or a ripped chest (unless you count an emaciated rib cage as buff). The only thing it looks like is that they couldn't get to the bathroom in time and went in their pants instead, and without a belt, it is starting to drag their pants down...

How a stupid door policy almost f*cked up my night a.k.a dealings with Miss Door Bitch

OK, so last night I was heading into to Honkytonks to go for one last dance (ankle permitting) before they close at the end of the year (yeah, I know, you can see where this story is going already). Heaps of people have different views on HTs... some love it, some hate it. I've never had a bad night there, but that's mainly because I make sure I laugh at the collar-up guys, watch the drunks with intrigue as they try and find the correct bathroom, and generally just bust out on the dancefloor and try to avoid the attitude. I just wanted to make sure I had that one last night out there; besides, I'm getting old, I don't manage to go "clubbing" much any more.

So where was I? Yep, we were cruising into town, detoured to Loop to have a quick drink before heading to HTs a bit after 10pm. We wandered down the lane, pretty much no one else is sight... looking quiet, it was pretty early, even the door folk were sitting on the stairs. We say hello as Miss Door Bitch wanders up and replies "are you on a guest list? sorry, guest list only tonight"...

WTF? Seriously? Now I've been knocked back maybe once or twice from Honkytonks before (in a crowd of like 10 people once, on a very busy night another time), and had the occasional bit of trouble getting in, but we've never been knocked back on that old classic, the flimsy guest list pretense. Bullsh*t. There was nothing special on that night. There probably weren't even 10 people inside yet.

I don't claim to be the greatest kid on the block, but I'm not quite out of it enough to warrant that sort of behaviour (well, maybe I am and I just don't know it??)... I'm shallow enough to wear the funky threads and do the messy hair thing. In Miss Door Bitch's defence, she doesn't know that I've been there like dozens of times before, that I'll be out on the dancefloor before most, that I even bought the Honyktonks mix cd the other day 'cause I do in fact go for the music, not just to pose. But even still, she could have been a little more lenient. She was just too cool for school (actually she was looking pretty old, trashy and try-hard; no surprise there - but I guess the Saturday night power trip is all she's got going for her... oooh, burn).

Beautiful way to ruin a legacy of great nights there with a final memory of such poor form. Part of me is still keen to go (maybe next weekend, for Steve Bug...?), part of me just wants to vent some more (they have an enquiries email address on the website), and part of me just doesn't care (f*ck 'em all).

And how did the night end? Not too badly actually - we went back to Loop, got the alcove facing out on to Meyers Place, dranks apple martinis all night and watched the world go by...