Posts tagged ‘Death’

Crappy Birthday in June

Know a smoker? Hate the living crap out of that fucker? Want to gift him/her with the worst curse from Pandora’s box – false hope?


Lucky you! 

This cigarette case, with the hopeful message of survival, whilst containing suicide in small doses, is the perfect gift for this occasion. 
Crappy birthday,

A.

Season of death

Others find spring romantic.
Everything awakens from their wintery slumber, blossoms open, life seemingly begins anew. It’s the season to fall in love in, the season for wedding vows, for having children, for outdoor activities, for outdoor sports. The season for life!

I, however, think that spring is the season of death.
Not just because my grandparents died shortly before and during spring respectively, but because of those opening blossoms.

Worse than the radioactive deathcloud from Chernobyl had hit us, this hits home every year.

Pollen.
Clouds and clouds of pollen.

I wake up in the morning with a sore throat and clogged nose, every breath hurts as if I had smoked two packs of cigarettes last night, minus the smell. And my eyes water and itch as if some jokster had strewn sand into them.

Outdoor activities?
Yes please, but only when it rains, or shortly thereafter.
Romantic?
In a morbid way, sure.
The same way some people think venomous snakes are romantic (or pretty), I think of beautiful springtime flowers/blossoms.

It never fails to alarm me, reminding me of my own mortality, when I wake up to an annoying cough, my eyes already a ground zero of itching and burning.
Seriously, frack spring.

PS: Despite this obvious attempt at manslaughter by mother nature, I still do my work out. It involves a lot more panting and gasping for air, but I do it anyway…

Happy Valentines

*sounding like Arnold Schwarzenegger*

I murdered a small woodla d creature, made a heart out of its carcass, for you! Because I love you!

Crappy Birthday in September

​http://www.smartbe.co/

Introducing Smartbe, the smart stroller for dumb people who shouldn’t have children, let alone be left alone with them.

This thing can be controlled via app, on your “I’m-a-certified-moron”-watch or your smart phone. It then will follow your every move, always staying a certain distance away from you, so you can jog (an activity for idiots, especially on paved ground), or take calls and stroll around like a squirrel on speed (always shadowed by that stroller which is creepy), hunt down, mercilessly attack and catch imaginary critters in the park, or just walk without touching the darn thing – god forbid, you could form an emotional bond with the small entity inside (hey you handsfree-bimbo, now you can reacher over and “touch” ME!)

The fondle-a-stranger-friendly distance to stroller and child, the emotional cold so to say, is continued in other features of this space age stroller: 

¤In case you are so distanced to your parasitic offspring that you walk away from the stroller/pram with the baby inside, you can get an alarm, on your phone! I’m sure it will not be tripped by the twenty people who check if the child is alright while you let some dude ‘plow your fields’ around the next bush. 

¤Your child might be chilly or exposed to too much wind/sun? No problem, just close the canopy on the little fucker from the app, no need to get too close!

¤Curious how your child is doing? Forget bending over and looking, you might catch a whiff of those nasty baby smells, just look at your brat through the camera! Best part, your child won’t ever even know you just looked at it – it will remain frightened, crying and desperate for some warm human interaction. 

I must admit, the seatheater and the bottle warmer are innovative ideas for a pram, but the rest?

Look people, life ain’t that hard: if you have kids your pre-child activities are restricted, or put on hold for a few years. You wanna jog or fondle strangers in the park? Do it while your partner has the kid, or a nanny, or a grandmother (they usually beat other people to spend time with their grandchildren). 

But, do not take them with. 

Especially in a fucking pram that is (will be) presumably powered by the same kind of Lithium Ion batteries that lit up a few “hoverboards”. 

There are easier, less idiotic and cheaper ways to kill your baby. Or give it up for adoption.

Or better yet – do not have a child, your genes deserve no chance of being passed on.

Crappy Birthday.

Roadrage 09. Sept.

They made this.
This exists. Outside. On the road, not a training course for kids.

On a bicycle lane, exclusively for cyclists.

Let me rephrase that: They made real markings for cyclists!
The one group of traffic participants who frequently ignore traffic lights, traffic signs, and, most importantly, any and all markings! Who think traffic laws are loose guidelines or recommendations and safety gear is for loosers who actually value life and health.

They have shat out taxpayer money, to paint teeny-tiny cyclist markings on a bicycle lane, to make the one group of traffic participants that could only be more dangerous if they rode bikes made out of solid plutonium, feel safer.

Why?
Why on earth would you do useless crap like that?
What will be next? Signs for blind people not written in Braille? “If you’re blind, please look out for traffic!”

I would not put it beyond these stupid people. 

After all, those must be the same Schmucks who came up with the flashing red lights and high pitched beeps when the subway doors close, to deter people from jumping in at the last second, after thirty or fourty years of not having this. Did it actually stop anyone from jumping in at the last second?
NO!

Will the bicycle lane markings achieve anything except wasting taxpayer money?
NO!

I wish I could grab power in this stupid country, and mop the floor with all those mouthbreathers from the political extremes left and right. There would be no refugee crisis, just a welcome. There would be no road markings for cyclists, just hefty fines for driving on the road without a licensed vehicle, without safety gear, and no license…

Take care, and dodge the two wheeled menaces,
A.

Streets of Vienna

There is a street in my town, called Triester Strasse – Street to Triest (guss where it leads to in the end, realy difficult innit?), which is notorious for its traffic. 

There is always traffic. No time of day without traffic, never could you (if you had a balcony or window to that street) sit there and enjoy the silence, if one day you wake and the street is silent, and stays that way, congratulations, you survived the apocalypse. 

Triester Straße is also notorious for the nightlife there. Brothels, ‘Massage parlours’, Strip clubs – like pearls on a string. 

My wife and I were driving down that road, out of town, doing some errands when we noticed the following on the side of the road:
Brothel, Stripclub, ‘Massage parlour’, intersection, Kindergarden, Brothel.

Read that again.
Slowly.
Perhaps speak the words aloud.

Brothel
Stripclub
‘Massage parlour’
Intersection
Kindergarden (Daycare)
Brothel

There are several things here that disturb me.
1 – next to a street that coughs up enough exhaust and soot to fill cathedrals in minutes, you do not open a daycare.
2 – the prudish ways of the Americans where a titty is worse than guns is not my thing, but brothels next door to daycare centers are a bit too much too early.
3 – at least the ‘masage parlour’ and the brothel immediately next door to the Kindergarten were displaying bright ‘Open’ signs. At half past two PM.

A few questions arise too:
a) – What kind of men go to a brothel at that hour?
b) – Do you want those men near your kids?
c) – Are those the children of the prostitutes, strippers, and ‘massage experts’?
d) – Do these kids have a pole?
e) – Can customers of the surrounding establishments put their kids into the daycare by the hour?
f) – Whose fucking idea was this?
g) – Seriously? SERIOUSLY???

Well, that was enough roadside entertainment for me. Carrying a pax closet upstairs six flights. That shall preoccupy my mind now….

Crappy Birthday in July

​24.99€ each and this can be YOURS!
I tried all three, albeit somewhat involuntarily at first.

Jedi and Empire are essentially the same smell, although Jedi is far less intense.

Imagine a sweet smell as if something was rotting, only far less unpleasant. Add some musky and bitter tones, and you have these two.
As for the only “female” stenchsmell in this menage a catastrophé, this is a smell that is (both descriptively and figuratively), as if cottoncandy and burned almonds, are wrapped around some stiff sausage that is already spoiled and smelling, but not yet rotten, before your nostrils are brutally, but lovingly, violated with it.

In all honesty, if ArmadilloAmidala really stank like this perfume, Anakin would’ve turned darkside in Episode 1, Luke and Leia would’ve never been conceived because Anakin would have murdered the shit out of everyone, especially Amidala.

So this is the perfect gift for Star Wars Geeks and Nerdettes to piss them off (and out of your life and future gift obligations), as well as for people who dislike, or outright hate, Star Wars, giving them another reason to hate the saga. This obnoxious stench.

Crappy Birthday, take care,
A.

PS: There is Jedi and Empire for men, but only Amidala for women. Why?

Cabin of Death roaring

After the elevator had been out of commission for a week, instead of ten days (at least something), it worked for just as long.

A week.
One fucking week!

Are you kidding me? Are you being serious?

In addition to the damn thing being broken AGAIN, the entire time it DID work, every time it started to move UP it let go a roar that was the loudest in the sixth floor.
My floor.

It is already being fixed, as I write these lines.
But the roaring persists…that’s what you get for taking the cheapest contractor…

Take care,
A.

Cabin of Death under repair.

“Dear tenants, please notw that from the 2nd of May until the 12th of May 2016 this elevator willbe offline, due to maintenance and repair. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”

Alright.
I am not burning down the house.
Yet.

I live on the 6th floor, or the 7th if you can’t count right (a.k.a. American), which means on a normal weekday I go down once in the morning, and ideally, up once in the afternoon. If there’s an “emergency” more often in both directions.

This time span includes a weekend, a holiday and a banking holiday. I hope that am all ten days from rhe earliest hour possible, until the latest possible, there will be men (amd women?) laboring hard to improve our technological standard and safety.
Because of not, I will become irked.
And then I will burn shit.
So I leave the house at 6am, there better be a bunch of schmucks greeting me with a smile and greasy faces ready to weld something, including the banking day, and holiday.
Or you turn the darn thing back on during the four day weekend you and your lazy jerkoffs are going to take, now are you?

I know, they will not be turning it on, and I know, they will not be working from 6am till 10pm, but at least I was able to let off some steam…

Take care, and steer clear of elevators…
A.

Earth day…

image

Happy STFU day, Facebook!

Okay, maybe that was harsh, but completely justified. Let me elaborate on that.

First, for each and every dump the calendar has to offer, you come to me about it. Soooo STFU.

Secondly, fuck the earth!
The earth, as a planet, as an ecosystem, is doing perfectly fine. It has done so for aeons, and will for aeons more until the sun expands.
We, us humans, might face some difficulties though. The ecosystem is changing, partly (most of it actually) due to our own activities in it. That change is happening more and more rapidly.
That change threatens OUR survival.

Let’s face it people, let’s face it Facebook.
It’s NOT earth we are worried about, it’s us. Fuck those birds, bees, whales and crabs. We are in danger, we will become endangered.
So let’s collectively drop the pretentious bullshit here, and stop calling it “Earth Day”, because if it were possible (and easy enough) to just pack our shit and move to Mars – we’d do it.
Let’s call it what it really is “Comfortzone, and Human-species preservance day”.

Now, bugger off, and remember, that there is only change, whether it is perceived as positive or negative, doesn’t matter, there is no adjective to change, just change itself,  and things are changing.

Take care,
A.