I have a few bones to pick with a multitude of things today (as ever). Firstly, who the hell is picking bones? What does that mean exactly? Oooh I’ll have that one please, yes the fibula bone, lovely! Some sayings just seem to make me tick, and not in a good way. More like a knee jerk reaction to someone saying something absurdly nonsensical. The more I think about it, the more spring to mind. Who ever swung a cat around by the tail to judge how spacious a room is? I’m sure the RSPCA has “bone to pick” with that one. I know many sayings have an age old reason for being said. For example, giving someone the “third degree”, as in being interrogated, dates back as a tradition of initiation into the “third degree” of Freemasons. Yeah, check me out, I’ve been reading books rather than browsing Wikipedia. That being said, I’m sure many people dispute the accuracy of Dan Brown novels. It still doesn’t really excuse the absurdity and irrelevance of most of the proverbs that get spouted today.
Topic change! Is it just me, or when you get annoyed at something (usually inanimate) do you start arguing or hitting it? The other day, I stubbed my toe on my door, and instantly launched into a rather blue tirade at this rectangular piece of wood staring smugly back at me. I even punched it! It didn’t even cross my mind that this was my fault and maybe, just maybe, I should pay a little more attention to where I walk. Also, it’s an inanimate object, you cannot win. Unless like me, you acknowledge its guilty silence as an admission of guilt, and claim the moral victory.
This doesn’t deter me from speaking my mind though. In fact I frequently partake in personal dialogues with myself. I know a dialogue entails the participation of two people, but I handle this obstacle by arguing with myself in variety of accents, often bordering on the stereotypes of racism and plain stupidity. But is that any better than talking to animals? Which for the record, I also indulge myself in every now and then. It’s not as bad talking to dogs; they sort of understand some of the noise emanating from your facial orifice. But talking to any other animal seems largely redundant. You can direct any combination of words towards a cat and they’ll look back at you with a look of bemusement, thinking, “When are you going to feed me?”. Polly want a cracker? You’re crackers if you think Polly has any clue about what’s going on. Don’t get me started on any other animals, we all know Horse Whispering is clap-trap and a bad idea for a movie.
Every day, things happen that infuriate my inner being. I should really start jotting them down before they escape my memory like Steve McQueen from a Nazi POW camp. But maybe I should start being a bit more positive in my cynicism, if that’s even possible. My dilemma is it’s often the little things that niggle at me. If you put a fork in the knife section of the cutlery drawer, just you wait for my mental implosion. Not that I’ll say anything to you directly. I’ll wait until you’re out of earshot and argue amongst myself for a bit.
Yesterday I saw a group of young looking ASBO types walking and eating from KFC bags. Bit by bit, they progressively went through their meals, discarding pieces of trash onto the pavement in front of me. My rage was palpable, especially considering the number of bins they passed by. Now I had an issue. Whether to confront these blatant idiotholes and show them the error of their ways, or to bottle it up and bite my tongue, so I could tell others about it later. I may not be good at maths, but despite them being mostly younger and smaller than me, the odds would still be stacked against me should they be unwilling to play a part in a grown up sharing of opinions.
Needless to say, I’m blogging about it now, so you probably have a good idea of what choice I made.
I know this entry has bounced back and forth a bit, but that’s my mental progression unfortunately. For continuity’s sake I’ll go back to the beginning and finish on one last stupid and pointless saying.
“It goes without saying”.....
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