The Land Before Judgment: T-Rex

Hello everyone, my name is Judgey Fox and I am a judgmentaholic.

I judge people on their looks, their mannerisms, their way of talking, their way of eating, their way of not-eating, their way of over-eating, their way of talking while eating etc etc. Judgment is naturally unfounded and just one's delightful opinion about another person/animal/dragon's demeanor. So, when a golden opportunity to judge lays it self out in front of me like a hooker aching for a fix, who am I to metaphorically, flush it's stash?

Today's subject, Tituba (not literally Tituba the slave that was first accused of being a witch during the Salem witch trials, that Tituba got her judgment strong and true)

I can't decide if this is racist or not?

Tituba is the name Foxy has given to one of my University tutors, her name sounds strangely similar to Tituba even though she is neither black nor a slave, the jury is still out on whether she's a witch though. In his spare time Foxy also likes to call her T-Rex due to her tiny arms and sly-eyes. Her eyes are a real problem for me, not only are they small and slitty, Voldermort-style, but she insists on outlining them in the biggest, blackest, smudgiest eyeliner she can find on sale in Priceline (I'm taking some artistic license here in assuming she'd only buy things an sale, being a frugal economics tutor).  Now for those of you who don't know what boldly outlining something small does, it makes it look even smaller. Congratulations Tit on making your beady little eyes look even beadier. 

Squirrels, always going too heavy on the eyeliner.

Now, one would think that being a tutor one would realise that all eyes will be on you as you answer questions and draw diagrams up on the whiteboard. One would also assume that as a tutor you would not wear clothing that when viewed from behind or from a low angle would facilitate cringe-worthy feelings of nausea from your students. 

NB: It may have been only me having these feelings. 

For example; thin, tighty-whitey short shorts should not be worn with a thin black tighty-whitey (blacky didn't really fit and JF didn't want to make two racial slurs in one post) g-string when reaching up to the top corner of the board to label axes. Nor should they be worn in the presence of anybody, when one has accidentally on purpose purchased a size too small (face it Tituba you're a easy 12 down below).

To be honest, I do have a morbid fascination as to what outfit Tit will choose to wear to our weekly classes. My favourite so far is the Gaudy Grecian Goddess: a mustard coloured maxi dress, gold strappy sandals, ones that once the subject is sitting can be seen snaking up the leg ballet dancer style, matching gold headband, drop earrings, bangles, necklace and rings. First of all, mustard should only be seen in one place and that's on my sandwiches, second of all gold snaking straps barely look good on ballet dancers and let's face it Tit, your dream of dancing Tchaikovsky went out the window when you discovered Cheezels and double choc Tim Tams. Finally matchy matchy accessories really only work when they don't look like they've fallen out of a cracker you pulled with your creepy Uncle Ben at family Christmas.  

I've considered calling Trinny and Susannah about Tit's imaginative style and many times tried to take a cheeky photo of her mega muffin-tops on my phone, but in the end I just couldn't be arsed and to put it candidly (my favourite way of putting things) Tituba is a total bitch.  

1 Judgment, 2 Judgment, 3 Judgment, Floor!

I recently stumbled across a story about an American man who has somehow justified taking not three, but four wives, naturally a reality program has been made about them. I think it's a law in America now that if there's even something slightly weird about you or your family, a reality t.v show will be made about it, usually when you have multiple things, babies, wives, vestigial organs etc.

The ladies man in question is a debonair fellow called Kody Brown;

KB - Who could resist?

Sneaky KB side-stepped the law by only being legally married to one woman while having spiritual unions with the other three. I don't know about you but I feel a menage-a-cinq would get very confusing and probably a little awkward. Apparently the show has been found 'refreshingly frank' with regards to the 'division of labour' and 'food supply' - boring! Quite frankly I'd much prefer to see how the family deals with things such as games night and how they decide which of the 4 wives gets to play that evening's game of Monopoly or Scrabble (obviously enforcing a 4-letter-or-less rule while playing Scrabble as it wouldn't be fair on the wives that didn't make it past Junior School). Not only would juggling multi-player games be a challenge but I wouldn't even what to imagine what meal-time would be like with 13 children.

Obsessively staring at the photos of these ridiculous people, a pattern began to emerge, and it became obvious to me that Kody isn't that stupid after all. Not only has he side-stepped the long arm of the law, he's also side-stepped the age old predicament of not being able to end a relationship once your partner gets too fat and the fear that they'll accidentally eat you along with 3 buckets of chicken, 2 large chips, a large potato and gravy and brownie bites, sets in. Once old KB decides that he's his current wife blocks out too much sun in his yard he doesn't break up with her as any self-respecting man should do, he adds her to his pig pen and heads out to the market to check out the latest matrimonial bargains. 

America's answer to Babushka Dolls

It amazes me that because this man claims polygamy is part of his religion he can still be viewed in a slightly pious light whereas, if an un-religious man decides he wants to have lots of sex with lots of women he get's branded as a sex addict and sent to rehab David Duchovny style. Little KB over here is doing nothing different to what Agent Mulder did except making the silly mistake of marrying pretty much every woman he had been intimate with instead of just taking one hot movie star wife. Not only has he got two dump-truck wives and two sedan sized wives to feed there's also the 13 little smart-car sized grommits to feed. Either this man has some serious brain damage or it's the worst judgment skills that I've seen in a long time (and I recently saw a fairly overweight girl try on and purchase what looked like an XS pair of purple leggings the other day).

Poor judgment, KB, poor, poor judgment.

5-Step-Judgement-Plan

How you should feel after a successful judgement

How your victim should feel

I googled Judgmental today. What I found shocked and appalled me, there was an infinite amount of self-help webpages dedicated to eradicating judgment and how to stop being so critical. They promised inner happiness, enlightenment and long-term harmony between oneself and one's surroundings..... awful.

There wasn't one single page on how to be judgmental. No step-by-step guides on how to form the perfect criticism, make a delicious self-serving snide remark or to state the inexorably unflattering truth. 

So I took it upon myself to create an easy to use and easy to implement plan for all you budding judges out there;

1. BE AWARE OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS

• How are you supposed to make a judgment with pin-point precision if you're daydreaming about McSteamy in those steam-pack Lean Cuisine ads? Clever ad though.....annoyingly clever.

2. TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS

• Successful judging is all about turning your witty intellect into words as soon and as forceful as possible. Mulling things over in your mind often forces you to reconsider your remarks - fundamentally detrimental to the judging process.

3. FOXY SAY NO TO EMPATHY

•   Absolutely under no circumstances can you allow yourself to start feeling even a teeny tiny bit sympathetic or understanding towards your judgee. They are that way because they choose to be, they can 100% help it and are just too gosh darn lazy or oblivious to do anything about it*.

 4.HISTORICAL CONTEXT

• Make sure your judgment is relative and don't use far fetched analogies that people with 1-step logic brains won't be able to understand.
• i.e If you are in the older stages of life and are passing judgement to a whippersnapper then the following linked topics should be avoided;

1. Dentures
2. I Love Lucy
3. Hip Breaks
4. Ration Cards
5. Un-heated curlers

5. BODY LANGUAGE FOLLOW THROUGH

• Commenting without the necessary facial contortions and head dip usually results in people thinking that your joking. A silly assumption to make, but they assume it none the less.

Follow this 5 simple tips to a perfect judgment. We also are liking pink today. Judge me!

x F

*Foxy understands some people are born Lady Gaga (Born this way) with certain ailments that cannot be helped, we do not judge those who don't deserve to be judged.

The Judgey Commute

With the autumnal mornings getting darker, colder and blurrier around the edges, I'm finding the daily struggle that is the morning commute, or as I prefer, the brimstone laden path to eternal and everlasting damnation, harder and harder. Normally the scene plays out like this; 7am heralds my exultant emergence from the warm comfort of my regal bed chamber, stomping down the cold corridor and almost tripping over the wascally wabbit that is The Kitten, I catch a glimpse of my fine self in the gilded mirror, scarily unfazed I find my reflection to be not dissimilar to that of a Himalayan Sasquatch human hybrid.

I stop in the doorway, one eye firmly shut against the oh-not-so-glorious morning sunshine using my own ingenious design;  an airtight seal of yesterday's mascara and liquid eyeliner (patent pending). The other eye blearily scans the kitchen, regretfully noticing it looks more like an eastern European capital city than my lovely open plan kitchen/dining/living/passing-out-after-a-big-night-out-and-forgetting-where-my-bedroom-is area, newspapers, uni books and empty tea mugs smugly litter the work-surfaces. 

The other eye finally opens. Hmm guess that seal wasn't air tight after all (patent still pending).

Make-up: Jump-starting ladies confidences Per Diem since 3500 BC

Tankard-sized Coffee Mugs: Helping people resist committing suicide every morning since a shitload of time ago

Showered, dressed, shoe'd and rearing to go, feeling good as The Kitten did not decide to launch an all out war with my dressing gown ties today. I manage to get myself safely over the road and past the roaring cement trucks that thoughtfully wake me up before the rooster at City Farm decides that I have had far too much sleep and that I daren't sleep past 5.30 for fear of being greedy(whoever thought putting a farm complete with geese, roosters and chickens in the middle of the city deserves a really angry letter sent to them).

Finally on the platform waiting for the train to the city, soon enough the reassuring screeching of the train can be heard from just around that bend in the tracks. I look up and to the right to watch my chariot arrive, but nothing appears.

5 Seconds go by....

No train...

10 Seconds go by...

Still no train. 

I look at the little minute countdown thing, it reads 4 minutes. My heart sinks, not because of the annoyingly long wait for the train, but my brain has been released from it's morning fug and put two and two together. The sound isn't of a choo-choo. That sound is of an eye-wincing, migraine-forming, all-hopes-of-a-selfish-life-are-dashed-when-the-strip-turns-blue, baby. 

Faaaaaaarrrrrrrrkkkkkk.

Now, normally I avoid religion like Edward Cullen does the solarium, but this morning I was giving it my all, asking the Big Man in the sky to not let this spawn of Satan onto my carriage. Obviously, G-Dizzle knew that while I was a Sacristan in junior school I used to pilfer 'the body of Christ' and share it with my posse during recess, so it's perfectly reasonable that he flipped me the metaphoric bird. Hello Headache, oh boy have I missed you. 

The journey into the City is only 4-5 minutes, 4-5 minutes of sticking red hot thumb tacks into my eyes would have been better, me thinks, and of course the thing is right next to me, as is the thing's mother. Not knowing where or how she crawled out of the gutter I cast my gaze down to the fog-horn. Naw, it's kind of cute in a mini-me, without the mini Dr.Evil grey pant suit, kind of way. It starts to turn down the volume on its wailing and get's a rather peculiar look on it's face. I'm wondering what it's thinking when it decieds to show me what it's thinking, the bundle of joy opens its mouth and let's a lovely little surge of vomit trickle down it's bum-chin and onto it's onesie.

Ew.

I've had enough and look away, but spew-shirt decides hes going to embark on another aria for our enjoyment. 

That's it.

Judgement time.

(I feel like I need a sound effect every time I judge something/someone - probably get a bit noisy though and I'd end up judging myself)

I look at the Mother, her head body half wrapped around the center pole with her fly undone, charming. I notice she's staring at her baby. She'd actually been watching this gremlin lose his shit screaming and then lose his lunch. She lifts her head and looks at me, uh-oh, she's got crazy eyes. She's got crazy eyes and I've got judgmental eyes. This will not end well. 

I'm too far in. My eyes are already narrowed. My top lip already curled. My head about to slightly do the 'what the hell' nod. I can't stop now, I have to follow through. I was holding fast, ready for the onslaught that would succeed it.

"What are you fuckin' staring at?"

There she is! More charming than I'd imagined. Too stunned to speak, she was quick for someone who smelt like dirty drunk, I looked away. The Mother politely repeated her question. Luckily the train was pulling into the station and I seized my chance, mapping my escape route I glanced back at the mother and squawked.

"You're baby yakked on itself" 

I ran.

As I neared the station exit I heard bellow out from behind me:

"It's a fuckin baby you fuckin skank!!"

1) I am not a skank

2) Her baby still had spew on it

Judgey Fox: 1   Drunk Mother w/Babe: 0

Something Judgmental Is Born

The Judgmental Fox (otherwise known as a Tibetan Fox) is most likely the only animal to be born with ridiculously natural judgmental eyes. Most people, myself included, believe that the amount that you judge someone/something does not come naturally and must be ingrained by your friends, family etc. But not these little guys, they're judging your outfit, hair, body, grammar and your old faithful party joke about the crackling pig's ear, right from the word go.

And you said judgmental wasn't cute Mother.

We here at Judgey Fox consider being judgmental (and it's prettier sister cynicism) a basic human right. Unlike your mummies, who told you off for judging people too harshly when she in turn was judging you for judging (so judgmental), we nurture it and encourage it to bloom into life-long negativity. 

One can only dream.

Enjoy our blog, add some comments, but only if they're refreshingly witty and revel in the self-centeredness that is Judgey Fox.