50 Shades of Judgement

For me, it started the phenomenon by infiltrating my twitter feed, celebrities started posting photos of the monstrosity with tag lines like, "Sick in bed, but still have Mr. Grey to keep me company." Then it started to be mentioned on my Facebook, and according to my feed "4 people are now talking about 50 Shades of Grey." Soon enough, I'd switch on the television and there it was, that ugly grey windsor knot staring back at me. It had allegedly taken the world by storm and apparently what the world wanted was a good spanking.

Fifty Shades Of Ghey

I was in K-Mart one day when I saw the book piled high in what must have been a specialty 'sexy' display. Sheepish housewives milled around it with their drooling, toothless toddlers strapped into their shopping carts, staring in every direction but Mr Grey's. They were not so subtly waiting for an opportune time when no eyes were on them, to reach out and nonchalantly grab the novel in all it's titillating glory. I imagined they would smuggle it home in Coles shopping bags filled with dog food and Huggies and greedily indulge in the so-called erotic novel while their beer-bellied husbands were passed out next to them in an Emu Export induced coma. I couldn't help myself.  I had to see what all the fuss was about, why women were falling over themselves to read this kinky romance novel, plus it was only $10.

I immediately read it cover to cover. Now don't take that the wrong way, it was not because I was gaga over Grey, it was because I was waiting for the eroticism to begin, for something actually arousing to happen. After I begrudgingly finished it, the first thought I had was, how come this 21-year-old virgin can orgasm not only the first time she has sex (which apparently didn't hurt one incy-wincy bit) but can then go on to have multiple orgasms every-single-time? In the words of the late Nora Ephron, "I'll have what she's having." I don't know if it's just me, but the sex scenes within this "book" seem to last for approximately 1.5 minutes, which is why it made me assume at first that it was written by a man. So, we can assume that either Mr Grey is other-wordly good or Miss Steele is having some mechanical help that isn't mentioned (iVibe anyone?)

Images of monkeys sprang to mind, dressed in little bowler hats and polka-dot bow ties maniacally banging away at type writers with cigars dangling from their mouths and saying, "this is totally average and mediocre writing but there's enough "thrusting", "naughty but nice pain" and "biting of the lip" in there for a best seller."

E L Gibbon

In fear of this sounding like a book review I think I'll come to summation with this; Read it, or don't, either way you'll either be judged for your close-mindedness or your complete lack of literary taste.

Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed and Something Judgey

I feel there's two categories that you find yourself in upon hearing that one of your school friend/acquaintances is planning to marry:

1. "Oh wow, is just so lovely to see two young people connect spiritually in this materialistic and violent world," says the eternal optimist while padding barefoot around her earthen-tiled kitchen floor, preparing gluten-free vegan dishes for her dread-locked busker boyfriend.
2. "Oh wow, that's a train wreck waiting to happen," quips the single, hard-skinned, realistic, money-hungry, promotion chasing, barren workaholic.

JF lands very firmly in the latter. It's not that JF is against marriage completely, we just feel that unlike buying clothes at an 80% off sample sale, the decision of marriage is not one that should be rushed into.

Now excuse me while I put my glasses on and look down my nose at you.

JF's distant cousin Condescending Owl

Foxy fun fact 
Marriages in 2010:     approx. 120,000
Divorces in 2010:       approx.  51,000
Percentage:                              42.5%

If that last number (or the thought of looking at the same person's orgasm face for the rest of your life) isn't enough to put you off marriage, then I don't know what is.

You may think you lust love someone so much that you want to spend the rest of your life with them, but at 21/22, you probably don't. You probably don't even know what you want to be doing as a career, what political party you back or what style of clothing suits your figure best.  I believe humans weren't made to be monogamous, its not natural, but that doesn't mean to say that its not a rewarding and fulfilling endeavour if you choose the right partner and I just don't think we know who that is in the first two decades of our life.

JF in something blue on it's wedding day 2078

Girls get so caught up in the whole parochial childhood fantasy of the big white dress and the softly tousled hair blowing in the breeze that they forget what the whole point of marriage is (read: whole point of the first Sex and The City movie). My disdain for over the top, flamboyant and try-hard-status-making weddings is almost as large as the mountain of food on my plate from the self-service reception buffet. Obviously I'm joking, there'd be no self-service buffet at a 22-year-old's wedding, as the average 20-something barely earns over $50,000 the reception would most likely be held at Mc Donald's or something.

It's sad to see that the traditional, romantic concept of marriage has been grotesquely distorted and cheapened by this "young ignorant marriage phenomena".

If there are couples who make it, I would like to know who they are in 30 years time so they can watch me eat my hat.

P.S: There's probably a lot more to say on this issue but Judgey's eyebrows have been raised enough for one day.

Judging Me Judging You Ahaaa

Nanny Judge

There's been a series of stories lately that have literally made me want to facepalm and repeatedly smash my forehead into the nearest wall/desk/domesticated animal.

Canada, eh?
The first one I read a couple of days ago was about a Canadian man that had been arrested because his 4-year-old daughter drew a picture of a man holding a gun during her kindergarten art class. The Canadian father explained the drawing was supposed to him getting the monsters and bad men, the school didn't think so and rung the police and child protection. The police then arrested him without a warrant, ransacked his house, told his wife she had to go with him to the police station and their baby would have to go with a child services officer. Luckily Granny was around the corner to take care of baby Sundae (small facepalm here also due to name choice). So anyway, the man had all his rights violated, told to disrobe, bend over, lift ballsack etc etc and was then pressured into retroactively granting permission to the police to search his house.

The kicker in this story is that they did find a gun.

They found a plastic gun that shot soft foam darts. Face. Palm.

Wet az bro
The other story that caught my judging eye was about an English gent that was rescuing his plastic bag from a model boating lake in Hampshire when he had a seizure and fell in. Bearing in mind these pools are barely 3 1/2 feet deep, he was left in there for up to half an hour because fire-fighters and paramedics, who were all Brits that could swim (amazingly), didn't have the right "training" to go in and get him out. The first fire-fighting crew to arrive hadn't been trained in water higher than ankle-deep. Facepalm. They then decided that the man must be dead as he had been in the water face-down for 10 minutes. Then, when a policeman volunteered to go in and get him out, he was told not to. Facepalm.

I imagine that conversation to go something like this:

"I say Rumpole, what do you think about this poor chap? Quite the predicament he's in then aye?"
"Indubitably. One would have to say he's in appalling form, he's been bobbing up and down like a cork for almost 10 minutes Sarg."
"10 minutes you say? Dreadful situation. Surely he must've carked it by now then?
"Right you are Sarg."
"Jolly good show, I must say!"
"Shall I hop him and fetch him then?"
"Don't play the hero Rumpole! You'll get your knickerbockers wet. Wait for the coastguard."
"Oh yes, good point, fancy a cuppa?"

Let's go swimming! No! It's wet!

If you're interested, read the whole thing here including the $5000 a day paramedic helicopter that wasn't used. Faceypalmy.

What I want to know is when did everybody become so bloody scared? What happened to showing a bit of gall? If it's not parents bubble-wrapping their children, it's people leaving other people to die because they're too scared to violate the rules and regulations.

What happened to unbridled bravery and raw courage? Our grandparents lived in a time where you threw your body over your army-mate's to protect them from bomb blasts. Now we're too scared to get our socks wet? Actually, there's nothing I hate more in the world then wet socks, but I believe I could make an exception.

Sometimes, rules are so lame.