Cheating at solitaire

I've never understood why people would bother to play solitaire if they were going to make up their own rules. I mean, rather play a game of "I-really-am-too-dumb-to-get-it-right-so-I-am-going-to-make-it-easy-enough-for-a-2-year-old-on-a-sugar-rush" if you are too afraid of failing.

Honestly, what's the worst that could happen? The game will play out before the cards do. Big bloody deal. I am of the opinion that the one win after several failed attempts is worth infinitely more than winning at the mock version every time.

So why is it that we cannot even be honest with ourselves? Everybody wants to be that guy/gal (let's be politically correct here) who loves a challenge, but how many of us really are? Will the real Chuck Norris please stand up!

I am not excluded from this fate worse than playing the triangle in the school band and would never profess to be. Braver on paper than in reality, I am. And even then I am not being totally honest to you or myself. So many things I would love to be or do (Or is it people I want to be or do? Sorry, couldn't resist). But when the cards are on the table I find myself folding, again and again.

And why the hell do we torture ourselves like this, I have to wonder. Why do we care so much what other people think? Most importantly ... who the fuck's even looking anyhow?

That's the secret, you see. We're all here on this planet with the same intention really, so sorry if you were intent on being unique. Who doesn't want to, at the end of the journey, scream out: "Yeeeeeehah!"? So why are we so afraid to do whatever it is we really want to do and possibly even have the time of our lives?

Still reading? What? You think I have the answers? I'm just another freak talking to an electronic page here!

All I know is that, if some other punk is out there living my dream, so can I!

Pimp my ride

So I'm driving in to work and what do you know: another funky piece of German engineering ahead of me. Ugh! I seriously hate these cars! Sadly, the suburb I hail from is notorious for the older models in retro colours with matching wheel-caps to boot. I've picked a burial spot for the lot, but alas, I have been unsuccessful in procuring sponsorship for my "Save the planet from the really butt-ugly box merc" campaign. So please understand my distress at being stuck in traffic behind this guy for any length of time, let alone the half an hour I was blessed with this morning.

I digress ... So checking out this "older" dude (hmmm … I’m becoming unsurprisingly cautious in my use of this word of late), I have to restrain a raucous outburst at his ridiculous attempt to hide the fact that he IS older than he would prefer to be behind silver sunnies that are way too tight. Think along the lines of John Travolta in Grease and you'll get the picture. The business suit jacket is neatly hung up on a hanger behind his seat and you just know this guy has probably never gorged on a Big Mac or other suitable meals such as spare ribs in this car. Everything about this guy screams anal ...

Nevertheless, he is sitting chatting away on his mobile (as you do in a lawless society such as the one I was born into) and suddenly carelessly flicks his cigarette butt from his window. And this is the point at which I lose my sense of humour with this particular a-hole! It is only by the sheer lack of attention seeking genes that I refrain from honking my Korean horn at the bastard and show him my prowess of international sign language.

Just proves again that you just cannot buy class!