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Tuesday 26 February 2008 - Resume
Dear Geegor: ...Please wait while Windows is resuming... I've been on standby again. Blog writing has taken a backseat to enjoying the weather, shagging about and downloading cool shit from awesome torrents sites. My bandwidth is being maxxed out. Here I am, degree qualified in (among other things) intellectual property and copyright law, and I'm ripping off music and movies and TV shows like theres no tomorrow. What a fucken hypocrite. Lol!
Well shitloads has happened in the past six months (well nine months I suppose, because I really have been quite hopeless at writing here regularly for quite a while). And of course some things remain the same. Its been a good summer I suppose. I am in pretty good spirits.
But one thing that has remained the same is my frustration at the people I've got around me in my worklife. Instead of shiny bright young things, I've got completely the opposite by default. I vented about it in a particularly harsh email that I drafted yesterday. But I thought better of it and didn't send it to anyone, leaving it in my drafts folder to remind (motivate) myself to sort the problem out soon once and for all. It goes a little something like this...
I am sick of these uninspiring, puffed up, delusional people around me. Their lives revolve around speaking loudly and competitively in public at each other ("look at me, look at me everybody"), affected laughter, bottom-feeder low-rent politics for which they feel all-knowing, a complete lack of originality and spontaneity, a habit of managing human relationships by pressing send and receive on Outlook repetitively while staring tunnel-visioned at a computer screen from 9am until 5pm, de-anchoring from their fake leather powerseats just briefly to step outside for cheap coffee and to send try hard, pompous emails (replete with full signature file attached) to one anothers' Blackberries just to make themselves feel connected and somehow integral to the proper functioning of the planet. Cheap suits of indeterminant fabric, ill-fitting and garish shirts that often resemble tablecloths, shoes of a colour and type that were never ever in style, a complete inability to dress appropriately for any occassion, (in fact and in summary: no sense of style whatsoever), grossly overweight egos, a penchant for asking stupid questions for which the answers are plainly obvious, and telephone voices that are unnervingly fake and, during signoff, borderline gay.
Dear Geegor: Of all places I woke up in Perth this morning. To the news that one of their favourite sons (and my favourite actors) Heath Ledger has been found dead in his apartment in the SoHo district of New York City. Only a fortnight earlier he too had been here, for what turned out to be his last summer fling.
There was little else talked about in the streets, the cabs, the hotels, the shops today. He would have hated the attention he is now receiving in death, just as he hated it in life. And it will continue unabated. A fuelled up, ravenous media, intent on exploiting and capitalising on almost every aspect to him imaginable. Some of the images being played and replayed of the scene outside his apartment, and the removal of his body, are just so crass and disrespectful. Not so long ago, out of respect for a fellow human being and his loved ones, we would have turned our heads and averted our gaze, shown restraint, humility and humanity. Now we just gawk and stare like we're at - or in - a circus.
Ledger's impact on people who did not even know him is clearly enormous. He remains one of my favourite actors (Two Hands has pole position in my DVD collection, and the shortlived TV series Roar was a must-see when it first screened), and his "anti-celebrity" was refreshing and something I genuinely admired about him. Shine on.
Dear Geegor: I have been remiss in failing to maintain communications in recent months. The southern hemisphere winter puts me into temporary hibernation.
Today is Friday of course, and so far it has consisted of a two-hour breakfast and not much more. Yesterday's highlight was a new restaurant opening that was preceded only by a stitch in the head after receiving a nasty little gash (that will hopefully invisibly heal so that I don't end up looking like Robert De Niro in Scarface).
The answer to the question "how did you cut your forehead?" has yet to be determined. It is a multiple choice answer and I am still mulling over which response is most appropriate in the circumstances:
a) I was bitchslapped. And Australia says no to domestic violence. Battered man syndrome exists. b) I was involved in an on-field meelee where a member of the opposing team king hit me to the head. c) I took a hit meant for a famous client. Good minders do these things. d) I decided to try looking like rough trade for a bit. Next step will be ethnic tattoos up my arms, tanktops and a Prince Albert. e) I was defending my own honour after someone called me a dirty dirty slutboy. f) I was hanging out with the emo kids again yesterday and instead of cutting goth symbols into our forearms with Stanley knives we decided to try carving a religious sign into the skin above our eyebrows. Wear black on Thursdays and all that.
As the morning progresses towards the afternoon I hope to hone in on one of these options as my most preferred answer.
And I am therefore dressed to kill today to counter-balance the street-brawl-crack-addict look that my forehead now advertises.
Dear Geegor: Cupping sounds like something one person might do to another's balls whilst kneeling down in prayer-like ritual, but in fact it is a Chinese therapetic acupressure technique (a.k.a. fire cupping), as I recently discovered. Yesterday I went off to get my knotted back unknotted again with what I thought would be a good strong remedial massage only to come away looking like I'd been in a tryst with an octopus.
After smacking my back around for a while and never really getting to the real sore bits, the therapist asked me if I'd ever had cupping as he thought it might be worth trying on some of the knots in my back musles. Always up for something new, I agreed. He warned me first that there might be a "a few minor marks like bruises that won't last very long" afterwards. Sounded ok and a few minor bruises wouldn't kill me. Well Jesus. After having these hot little suction cups stuck all over my back for 5 minutes (they didn't really hurt) I got up to find my back with huge purple circles all over it. I seriously look like I have been smacked around with the tip of a baseball bat.
Its like a corpse you'd find on of the chopping block in an episode of CSI or abandoned in a damp field on X-Files. Not really sure what additional benefits I'm feeling from it. A decent Thai massage (which you just can't get in this Westernised city) would've make it feel better than this. I feel like tenderised steak.
All I know is that I won't be getting my shirt off in public for a while. There will be no swims or saunas or steamrooms at the gym while I look like I've been beaten to within an inch of my life. I suppose I am kinda pissed off that he didn't tell me that, in fact, it would result in massive big purple crop circles all over my back and shoulders. Had he done so I probably would have said no to the whole idea. It looks absolutely ridiculous.
Thursday 10 May 2007 - People management skills 101
Dear Geegor: I don't like being ambushed nor do I like people working right around me instead of through me. People who do these things find that as a result (a) I do not acquiesce very easily and (b) I tune out momentarily and (c) I greet their subsequent overtures with aggression rather than just assertiveness. Today was a perfect example.
Another thing I can't stand is superciliousness and wank.
People who think they are the epicentre of the universe never ever are.
Dear Geegor: The Budget is all shit. Spraying more money and perks around to families and other already high consumers of government services instead of simply not taking so much tax off us all in the first place. Since when are tax cuts considered "govenment spending"? Tax revenue is income for government. Tax cuts therefore represent a reduction in income for government, not an expense. Where are the incentives to be self sufficient, to provide for yourself and to rely less on government services? Where are the incentives to take risks and work longer and harder? All you get is more punitive taxes the more you earn in order to provide more money to spray at everyone else who have their hands out for even more services which they self righteously see as their God-given right to consume and to take. These tax and spend governments, whatever their political stripe, who ingratiate themselves to certain subsets of taxpayers at the expense of other subsets who they completely ignore while taking more and more out of their pay packets, are simply appalling.
Dear Geegor: More on the MTV AVMA's on Sunday night. Random stream of consciousness stuff:
Sneaky Sound System proved themselves to be an international class act with a standout performance of UFO.
We are all sick of B-list soapstars turned wannabe popstars. Home & Away and Neighbours and Laguna Beach does not automatically make you a celebrity singing sensation.
The voting was rigged, as any good live televised show should be. Why else would the broadcaster pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to fly all these people in?
Evermore rocked. The boys from the Manawatu are now undoubtedly superstars in the eyes of Australian youth. In my humble opinion they are New Zealand's most successful (and down to earth, humble and genuinely decent) music export. Shame that their country of birth will never sufficiently recognise this and will instead still keep harking back to jaded old fools who should have retired from making music (and sucking off taxpayer subsidies) decades before the majority of us were born.
Goodnight Nurse did a good job on the red truck on the red carpet under trying circumstances.
Manufacturered Australian Idol winners do not make for credible awards recipients nor are they in any way representative of the sort of audience that MTV has. To give awards shows a local flavour, organisers should ensure nominations reflect their demographic and are real musicians not geeks who have been re-made and re-modelled for TV.
Teenage girls need to look in the mirror before leaving home. Ditch the black tights under fluro skirts and the kitsch eye makeup that looks like a four year old went AWOL in front of their mother's dressing table.
Some of the presenters need autocue training to "de-script" their flat monologues and perhaps a massage or a shag to relax them before they go on camera looking like incoherent deer in the headlights.
The mosh pit was not full enough and it looked bored in the flesh and on screen. It takes more than free cans of Red Bull dished out by self-absorbed and supercilious girls wearing lanyards around their necks to warm up a crowd of teenagers.
Top marks for the staging and the lighting. Fix the reverb on the speakers next time though.
Kiddies, if you are going to try to act like a rockstar and arrive in a limo then don't hire one of those crappy white 1990s Ford Fairlane stretch things. They are soooooo wrong and you look like you're off to a wedding at the Redfern registry office.
Someone please sweep the debris off the red carpet.
Joel needs to get his arse to the gym and then the beach. It sounds very dodgy (I swear its not) but when I first met him taking a piss at a bar in Auckland almost six years ago he was healthy and fit and relaxed. Now he's looking pale and a little soft and a lot run down and in need of some time off the touring circuit away from the usual fuckwits.
Fergie looked stunning in a great dress that was quite capable of doubling as a tiled Hilton bathroom floor for the party afterwards. Australian Fashion Week started early for some.
Pink was hot. I think I mentioned that already. But she was. All night. And I never thought I would ever say that once let alone twice.
Nicole is as pleasantly vacuous up close as she is from afar but that in itself is not deserving of all the shit that people poke at her. I actually think she needs a few more friends instead of critics.
I'll make another unpopular comment now, which given how appreciative I was to be there, could well be seen to be about as ungrateful as my previous comment about Nicole. I'm gonna say that I'm glad Snoop was denied at the border. He looks like a criminal bastard (and his felonious rap sheet confirms that he is) and I'd tell him to stay the hell away from Australian shores too. Trying to get all political with petitions and shallow jibes at Canberra and overblown onstage plaudits for him looks about as try hard as a Che Guevara tee shirt on a highschool cheerleader.
I am not sure how on earth that amateur pornstar managed to get invited but I just about fell over myself in shock when we near collided with each other by the toilets.
Overall report card for the show: Good effort but could do much better next year. Call me for more free advice.
Monday 30 April 2007 - Do it for the monks, Sophie
Dear Geegor: There are many more remarkable moments from before,during and after the MTV Australian Music Video Awards last night but for some reason the most stand-out thing I remember was a trailerpark blonde across from us calling out "Go Sophie, do it for the monks" in what I can only presume was some sort of homage to Benji. It was a confusing moment and I don't think anyone within cooee could, with certainty, decipher whether she was just being religiously smart arse at the expense of all Catholic monks or instead patriotically deferential to members of the wider Monk family.
Oh and Pink is really hot closeup. And he's cool but Jared Leto is taking his emo thing a little bit too far.
Dear Geegor: Rather than eat an Anzac biscuit and go to dawn parade, I flew to Adelaide for the day, drove to the beach a little bit too fast in an Audi, drank a glass of sparkling shiraz in the sunshine at a McLaren Vale vineyard, ate bruschetta and homemade pumpkin soup, observed a couple of very intriguing characters, and flew home again in time to make the 9:35pm episode of Prison Break which I am still addicted to.
Monday 23 April 2007 - Organisational behaviour 101
Dear Geegor: We spent eight grand yesterday for the privilege of having a guy with two doctorates and two MBAs and a very substantial opinion of himself, along with a subservient young woman (who acted much like a courtroom stenograher but without the same intellectual sharpness), sit in a dark meeting room at a hotel for six stuffy hours, sandwiched between plates of food and very poor coffee, to undertake a "top level strategic analysis" of our business. It was largely a waste of time and money for me as it would be for anyone who had spent even five minutes studying organisational behaviour at university. Given the enthusiasm one of my partners had for this guy from previous experience, once things got into full swing it actually made me question the depth and the smarts of some of the people who I have gathered around me. But there was of course the real agenda. This had revealed itself prior to the meeting without accident, which I can only put down to unsophiscated transparency and a great deal of underestimation on the part of the engineer. Too clever by half. The real agenda was nothing to do with strategic analysis and everything to do with one partner trying to wrest a much greater equity stake in the business from the others in exchange not for cash but for an intangible feelgood factor and an ego boost. Well I'm afraid that boat sailed more than a year ago now and that passenger in retrospect purchased the same class of ticket as the rest of us. The cabins are all now taken and upgrades don't come free.
I just don't wanna be lonely
Cause the lights, were shining ever so bright
In my hand there's a pulse of my beating heart
Biting my tongue there's a plastic man on the telephone
Can you see the bright light? Shining, I don't know...
Can you see the bright light? Shining, shining, shining
I saw a UFO and nobody believes me
I was sixteen miles from home with nobody in sight
I saw a UFO but nobody believes me
And whats it gonna take to get me back home tonight
Can you see the bright light? Shining, I don't know ...
Is it a reflection of anyone? The big glow
And tell me this is all good, and you say, I don't know
I'm very very far from home
I saw a UFO and nobody believes me
I was sixteen miles from home with nobody in sight
I saw a UFO but nobody believes me
And whats it gonna take to get me back home tonight?
Wednesday 11 April 2007 - A totally organic experience
Dear Geegor: I am suddenly wildly enthusiastic about lentils and chick peas. All I need now is a shaved scalp and ratstail, sandals, a wind chime, a customised chant and a bag full of incense and I'll be almost reinvented as a Hare Krishna.
Friday 6 April 2007 - Digital killed the radio star
Dear Geegor: The music industry is in the shit. So I have become an internet radio freak too. Now that I have rigged up my notebook to a proper speaker system I'm finding all sorts of random streamed radio stations from around the world to listen to. I haven't bought a CD in ages. The music industry needs to adapt much faster to the digital age. Old models and traditional ways of doing business simply won't work anymore. I am pretty familiar with intellectual property law and its application to the media and entertainment industry but someone needs to tell Viacom that suing user-sites like YouTube is hardly the way forward. Censorship never works in the long run.
Dear Geegor: I am a total health food and fitness freak this week. I've spent about 3 hours a day at the gym for the past three days. My energy levels are back to normal, yay. Speaking of the gym, mine is a bit like an extremely expensive modelling agency. I fall madly in love at least once a day.
Dear Geegor: I have been told, yet again, by someone with unofficial observer status that my standards are "so insanely high" when it comes to relationships ("even quick flings") and that no-one except for "the modelesque" ever meets the "high bar" that I apparently set. As a result I can easily appear "arrogant and dismissive" with people who are "only trying to catch [my] eye." Well that's somewhat true and somewhat shit. But what is wrong with liking quality, anyway? Or having an eye for detail? And I am not an arrogant cunt. I guess its more like a self confidence (or lack of) thing. Or, on occasion, complete obliviousness (if that is even a word, but you get my drift). Coupled with the fact that I don't suffer fools gladly and the older I get the more of them I find crossing my path or taking an interest in me or making passing observations about my life which they really don't understand even though they think they do and no-one else does. Well you don't, you're not even half right.
Dear Geegor: Everyone thinks I am anti-social at work. It possibly comes from my refusal to join colleagues most days for lunches and random coffee breaks. I don't have much interest in sitting and talking every day in a restaurant or cafe with the same people that I spend all morning and afternoon sitting and talking with around a desk or table. Some days yes, but an every day obligation to join my colleagues for lunch? Why? Lunch is a good time to have a break, get some fresh air, talk to other people. I'm not being anti-social, its just a big wide world out there. And with my deranged eating patterns, and occasionally offbeat tastes, it means that I'm rarely synchronised with everyone else's typical ritualistic midday chow down. And with weekends and after hours, the real truth is that I just can't be bothered socialising with people who I work with and having to see more of them. Not because I necessarily don't like them, just because its not something that I ever do. I think its risky immersing yourself in work-related people and things all the time, and its particularly dangerous blurring your business and social life to such an extent that you no longer remember where the line is. There are exceptions to all this, I suppose. But I am not currently in a work environment that lends itself to exception.
Dear Geegor: For anyone not lucky enough to be given a special access complimentary invite to the MTV Australia Video Music Awards at the end of the month I feel for you, really I do. So buy them pre-sale tomorrow. Follow this quiet little link and move quickly at 3pm to secure your seats before tickets are released for general sale. They will go fast.
See also Google's April Fool's Day joke. Humour! I seriously know people who would benefit from something like this, to save their secretaries from opening their received emails, printing them out, sticking them in their in-trays, taking dictation, transcribing a draft response, submitting it for approval or correction, then pasting into Outlook and sending. Seriously.
Dear Geegor: If the bar owner out front keeps opening his push-down windows late every night for his (mostly skanky) patrons to pour themselves out of then I will permanently bust his arse when his liquor licence comes up for renewal. What ever happened to not taking your ever-tolerant neighbours for granted and showing a bit of consideration?
Oh and Happy Birthday to Zigster. The next twenty years will go even faster.
Dear Geegor: The last few months have been good for me insofar as getting my head together. Staring death in the face for a short period really helps to put life into much better perspective. I decided - and announced yesterday - my intention to scale back my involvement at work. The last few months has reminded me what I don't want to be doing.
I hope that the history books one day show that this was a sensible and considered decision by me and not a rash one. I've convinced myself that the many months of me thinking about this ensures it is not some random, reckless act. But when the time comes to announce you've made up your mind, and you actually bite the bullet and do it as I did yesterday, then there is a wee niggle of doubt momentarily in the back of your head. I think that fleeting feeling comes from my own transitional (rather than traditional) nature. I never lock into anything permanent and I don't think I ever will. Its just not me. But that's not to say that I don't wonder at times (like this) what it would be like to be a traditional, conventional, order-life-from-the-set-menu kind of person.
Lately I've insulated myself from - or in some cases completely divorced myself from - a lot of what I regarded as shit. I'm not complaining - its par for the course. Its shit that comes from being unconventional and not fitting easily into a soundbyte yourself (even though, ironically, that is one of the things you help do all the time for other people!). Years of putting yourself on the line for what you believe is right, and in doing so opening yourself up for criticism and personal attack, does take its toll. I thought I'd developed a very thick skin from a very early age which enabled me to handle all this without too much real introspection. But I've had reason to take stock of my life lately, and I've decided that being focused all the time on fixing other peoples' problems and saving their little worlds for them means that you often forget about yourself along the way, and the much bigger world that you are lucky (or unlucky) enough to wake up in each day.
The insulation was - is - a defence mechanism I suppose, a kind of self preservation. But underlying everything, and running contrary to any remaining feelings of uncertainty or doubt, and instead helping to convince me that I am taking the right decision, are my instincts. They have rarely if ever let me down. They tell me that the work I'm doing at the moment, as rewarding as it can be at times, is simply not fulfilling or sufficiently challenging anymore. I don't think we've got the mix quite right at work; we're now spending too much time operating independently of each other (and I can see this only accelerating now); I feel burdened with operational, administrative crap (a.k.a. arse-wiping others); I am getting increasingly frustrated with my colleagues and this makes me seem quite negative (which in itself frustrates me, because being negative is so totally contrary to how I actually am as a person or how I really feel); I see my prospects being limited in a number of ways by circumstances that I don't think I can - or should even feel able to - alter; and the kind of client work we are doing is in almost all cases just not cool enough to maintain my interest or energy levels much longer. That is to a fair extent my fault, but I've just got no motivation in my present situation to go change that. Much of our existing work is focussed in an area that was once for me a passion. Clearly for my colleagues it still is. But from my experience it ultimately becomes hugely unfulfilling, totally unrewarding, quite isolating and often unhappy. A bit of notoriety was and is fine - that too comes with the territory - but when it takes the whole focus away from the person that you really are inside, its suddenly a different story. And that story, I remind myself, is mine and no-one elses, and its time for me to take control of the script again.
So I've flagged a six month "scale back" (or complete exit) plan and I intend spending any spare time I have over this period not just considering my options but taking steps to implement them. We're at a critical growth stage, so its a significant decision for me to leap into something new now and not ride out the wave which could possibly come crashing through soon, but that's just my lack of convention and my relentless impatience showing through. I was asked about what I wanted to do instead, and what I planned to be doing in six months time, and I honestly can't answer that at the moment. The options, and I recognise that there are many, are not even part of this decision. All I know is that what I am doing now is not what I want to be doing this time next year. And I know that I want to be right back in the thick of things that makes me passionate and driven again, working for and with people who are passionate and driven by the same things I am.
Well there it is, Geegor. How many more big things can happen to me this year? Geez.
Dear Geegor: I don’t usually take souvenir photos either. I do take pictures of things that interest me along the way, but I never specifically waste time on standard tourist photo shit. I hate having to look at other people’s travel photos.They bore me shitless, and I am sure it would be likewise for the Geegors of this world if I were to suddenly start snapping large volumes of pictures of monuments and landmarks and crap like that.The exception to the rule is usually pictures of people. I think pictures of people, unguarded, in situ, are the most interesting and unique things in the whole world to look at. Better than landscapes and beaches and dogs and sunsets and bowls of fruit (spot the irony here given my last few posts. Here are two more: a local woman doing her washing, and a fishing boat that looks more like something out of Pirates of the Carribean than a Thailand port).
One of my all time favourite songs is Filter’s Take A Picture. It reminds me of two things. An old friend and a future opportunity. And travelling rockstarlike on private jets as I have fortunately been able to do on a number of occasions (I used to, without fail, zone out mid air listening to it on my phone MP3 player). Somehow too its now appropriate for this place at this time.
Dear Geegor: I never buy tourist crap and souvenirs and shit like that when I travel. I never do it. I hate all that crap. Some people seem to have this overwhelming need to prove they have been somewhere by buying a massive, ugly, cheap fabric shirt with
I<3 HAWAII
or
MY PARENTS WENT TOFIJIAND ALL THEY BROUGHT BACK FOR ME WAS THIS LOUSY TEE SHIRT
emblazoned in fugly awful graphics across the front and back with neon coloured palm tree images and caricatures of the local inhabitants doing some native dance routine. I also very rarely buy gifts for other people when I’m overseas because gifts are personal things and I can’t quite see how a personal connection can be developed between a gift and its recipient unless that person is there with you for the whole experience too.
Well today I broke both rules by buying a cool little Buddha boy to take home for my side table. He has his hands together in a wai (a traditional Thai hand gesture which is used both as prayer and to show respect to people) and he is made of a heavy cast metal which will make him a useful weapon if I ever decide to go on a rampage.I’ll post a pic when I get him home. And I also scored three hand-carved miniature tuk tuks (little motorised carts with drivers who travel at breakneck speeds through crowded streets) that I’ll give as gifts to a couple of people who I know will appreciate them because of the experiences we’ve had before with crazy arse tuk tuk drivers.
Friday 23 March 2007 - Anna has fallen for the dishboy
Dear Geegor: Love is in the air. She wants to pluck him from the obscurity of the breakfast buffet and make him a star.Blair had better watch out, she might trade him in for this exotic new model.
Dear Geegor: It cracks me up how when you are a foreign tourist being escorted by a driver it is quite acceptable in these parts to be driven at more than 120 km/h in heavily populated 60 km/h areas. The driver just beeps his horn every few seconds to warn unwary pedestrians and the eight thousand scooters that are inevitably swerving around you to watch out. The immaculately dressed, freshly pressed traffic police here are so cool to just sit and watch.
Wednesday 21 March 2007 - Peace on earth & goodwill to all
Dear Geegor: From day one it has been clear skies, warmth, wide
smiles, peace and clarity. I’m using the opportunity of exile to re-adjust my
sleeping habits to something a little more appropriate (somehow I’ve become
someone who stays up past midnight every night, and I’ve now discovered that
going to bed at 10pm is actually far better for me the next day); to get a bit
fitter; to eat breakfast (yes, breakfast, something I have not done since I was
about 13 years old and allowed to make my own eating decisions); and a few
other things too.
Today I had my first beer in months.For medicinal purposes only – its hot.
Dear Geegor: When you’re travelling and a regular occupant of airports or in slightly foreign places always use the Disabled toilet. They’re the most under-utilised spaces on the planet. The Disabled toilet is always the cleanest, there is no one trying to perve on you or try to pick you up, there is always liquid soap, it is huge enough to change from a suit to shorts, have a shave, tie a tie, repack your bag and clean your teeth. In some cases they even have showers if your smell like skank. And if anyone ever challenges you as you are leaving (and no one has me yet), just have the line ready: “not all disabilities can be seen from the outside..."
Dear Geegor: What is it about the bananas in Thailand? Check out the colour of this one. It is sooooo yellow and it tastes sooooo bananary its not funny. Why can’t bananas at home taste like this anymore?
And meet my new mate. They are so funny to watch. Without getting into the whole creation/evolution debate, man and monkey act and operate so similarly that I’m not sure which one is the smarter.
I seriously look like I have been smacked around with the tip of a baseball bat. 
I feel like tenderised steak.
