Crime. It doesn’t pay. However, we’ve all had those daydreams of robbing a bank and just disappearing into thin air with a few million dollars and a convertible, streaming down the LA strip. In fact, some people take their daydreams literally and go and fuck shit up, usually resulting in them spending 10-50 behind bars or with a splattered face. You win some, you lose some.
Now, I daydream a bit. In fact I spent 2 hours today imagining how I would handle a long distance relationship. I really should have been completing some of my 2500 word essay. Instead I managed to juggle relations with seven people thirsty for my company with a bit of the old Willie Bee charm. It was great, they all don’t talk to me anymore. Anyway, moving past example number 793 of ‘Lost hours Vol. III’ and onto another type of crime. One that does not involve robbing a bank, out of wedlock intercourse and looking down your best mate’s sister’s top. Instead it involves being an obnoxious twat, stubbornness and looking down your best mate’s sister’s top. We’ve all erred in our choices when surrounded by our friends, our family or just the general public, that’s the beauty of life, things go wrong and other people can laugh at your misfortune. There are, however, people who commit the same atrocities over and over without repenting. They are the social criminals of our society. So I’ve decided to analyse a few of these crimes and make a judgement on how severe their penalties should be. For example, not washing your hands after taking a piss is reprimand, second offence is certainly community service and a third offence? 30 days remand in a gastroenteritis infected village. Of course, you have to be caught by a person because it wouldn’t be a social crime if no one actually knew about it. And that is the beauty of being accountable for others in society. You are allowed to judge someone if you catch them doing it but you can go about your business sneezing without covering your mouth or touching your testicles every minute when no one is around.
Making yourself the central point of conversation too much.
I’ve been guilty of it from time to time. The point in conversation when you have to check yourself and pretend to be impressed with the daily routine of another. It can be strenuous work and can take a lot of energy depending on the person in question. But we all know that no one wants to hear about your life all day bar yourself or if you happen to live an interesting life… which I do so don’t interrupt me. There are people that we all know who do not have the slightest clue that they have told us over and over about their late night adventures in the city where they took a shit behind a bar or hooked up with a 37 year old and it was the most hilarious thing that ever happened. Most of the people who do this are idiots who have few hobbies and forget that there are millions of other men in the world who also commit reckless acts for a little bit of a thrill. Some check themselves and ask about how your pet hedgehog Billy before committing to another round of self indulgent tripe but at least they are trying. There’s a lot of bullshit floating around and some people are intrinsically boring so it can be difficult to have thirteen straight conversations highlighting the basic WUFS questions (Work, Uni, Family and social outings) without a desire to cut your own testicles off. Anyway, so we all do it from time to time and yet there are the repeat offenders. The white noise specialists.
It depends on the conversation. If it is exciting yet they have dominated the conversation (whether group or individual) then I am going to call play on. If it is similar to the pain of an anaesthetic free wisdom tooth removal then I’m going to issue a stern warning via a gentle jab in the throat that will cause minor discomfort and distract them from their discussion about how there was a lot of traffic at Chadstone shopping centre on a Saturday afternoon or complaining about their cat has a drooling issue. At a criminal law level, probably assault. As a measure to halt the disgraceful influx of social criminality, probably assault.
Alright, so this is where it gets sketchy. Again, in similar circumstances to the first offence, some people have a natural knack to throw down a decent yarn about their past twenty years but there is still a line that has to be drawn to stymie the self-absorbed douche from thinking he is an entity himself. As we do to white collar crims… we chuck them in stocks and throw rotten fruit at them. But this time, we throw rotten pictures of the actual person at them. The pictures that they don’t want the general public to see. Pictures where the angles are slightly off, their teeth aren’t completely white and even the ones where they are accompanied by an unattractive friend, relative or former lover. That’ll teach them to get all high and mighty about their own lives!
Checking yourself out in the gym.
HEY! LOOK HOW BIG AND MUSCLY I AM! OH WAIT, OF COURSE YOU HAVE ALREADY NOTICED! YOU’RE THE MIRROR… MY SEXY, SEXY REFLECTION!
Yeah, we get it. Your gains are better than my gains. Your… veins are more prominent than my veins and your abs are probably not as good as my abs as I am skinny and we come with a natural six pack so eat a wang Johnny Chu you big lug. It’s okay. It’s a forgivable act because we are all vain human beings. Yet, when it happens again and again, it begs the question, do you not have mirrors at home? Or is it because those big ‘mussculs’ look just peachy after 4 sets of 8 reps on ye olde tricep pulldown? Give it a rest and go wank off in the bathroom, no one is overly impressed. Alright, I raised an eyebrow and the three girls on the treadmill are giggling about something other than my undeniably humble wit… remarkably. Yet, it is another social crime that is punishable by my ire. Because if I let you get away with it, whose responsibility is it? Arguably Mother Nature as your muscles eventually become all saggy and icky and the girls will still be giggling about that one liner I had about utilising words in their correct context. Jokes on you buddy.
You will have to disclose the entirety of your gym workout to the entire gym community even if it means you reveal how you injected horse semen and the extract of cinnamon directly into your veins. Everyone will laugh at your misfortune and steal your secrets, becoming a community of human beings who are the same shape as you whilst becoming horse semen junkies.
You will be condemned to a month in the hall of mirrors where you can only look at yourself and there are no weights to retain those delicious aesthetics. Slowly watch as you fade away to your 17 year old self. But this judge is not a cruel man, you can still enjoy a consistent carb to protein ratio. However, your fat intake will be off the charts.
Talking very loudly about your sex life in public.
Evidently, we are very polite people in Australia. We don’t tend to discuss our sexual lives with people we do not know or even those we have a gentle infinity toward. It takes dozens of months or dozens of beers to open up to people in this regard. However, there are the delinquents among us who love to dabble in the art of impolite conversation. And for that, I bite my thumb at thee… in pure, whimsical excitement. Speak my friend. Tell us where you inserted your said body part. Now, it is a social crime for people to speak about certain, how may I say, crude acts in public but as for the rest of the antics. I feel it is a ‘play-on’ situation. Unless there are kids and prudent adults in the vicinity. You can usually identify a child by their small stature or too cool attitude and prudent adults by their stiff upper lip and tense brow. But no public affection thanks, that’s just on unless I am involved. Even then, I shake thy head at thyself.
I like this. In fact, it really makes a day interesting. As a first offence crime I will throw this out of court. Second offence and I will have to approach you. Third offence and I may have to become your friend.
Checking your phone during conversation.
‘So I said to the guy, how does one become a better person?’ ‘I don’t know why?’ The man says this as he checks his phone for the third time in three minutes. ‘I’m not going to finish the story now, you are clearly distracted with other means.’ ‘What are you talking about bro, I’m listening.’ He checks his phone again. ‘Dude, if I was a girl you were crushing on you would not be checking that phone so don’t fucking do it with me.’ ‘That doesn’t really make sense, I mean it is justified with a woman but I still can’t do it with you? She’s more important than you to me.’ Fair enough. Women are a lot more important than good male friends, however checking the phone during conversation is a sin that displays a complete absence of attention and manners. Didn’t your mother teach you not to multitask whilst she cleans up your bedroom, pays the bills, works at the local bank and shops for your sister at the same time? It’s rude. You don’t need to check your instagram during an intimate conversation about your friend’s ailing kitten to see if Jess Fitts has posted another provocative photograph. You can do that when you are sneaking off to the bathroom to masturbate. You sick fuck.
Just an electric shock every time you do peer at it during intimate conversations. We’ve all done it and there is a fair chance that we will do it again. The voltage of the electric shocks become more powerful the more you do check your phone during inopportune times. We draw a line at manslaughter but comatose is a-okay in our book if you are checking it 45 times during a single conversation.
You are hereby revoked of the opportunity to use a smartphone for the rest of eternity. Even borrowing another to call your ‘sister’. You are condemned to the use of a Nokia 3310 and a life of Snake (not even Snake II). Enjoy a life free of distraction. What a horrible thought!
Ugh. Lunch cutters. Cock blockers. Wife snatchers and sister slayers. The worst kind of person. If I am having a dalliance with a lovely lady then leave me be. Unless you are shouting us all a drink. But even then, pretend it is from my pocket so she thinks I’m generous. No credit shalt go to thou who wants to cutteth thy lunch. You know, I made these goddamn sandwiches and I want to eat them in peace without all of these parasitic ants crawling over my legs and my hand in her lap. Now, there are also times when it is acceptable. When your friend has failed and you swoop in for the kill. Play on. I mean, that is fair in my book. Even if that said friend was going to the bathroom to prepare his breath for a cheeky hook. Semantics, nonsense, it don’t matter. However, the blatant displays of cock blockery are disgusting and punishable by quirky death. Don’t shit where you eat brah.
You, and I’m definitely not excluding our female readers here, are to buy your friend lunch and cut it into tiny, little pieces for him/her. Then you will proceed to feed him/her. If they want you to chew for them, you must follow this instruction. If they want a bite of your food, you must give it to them. If you order the food and the waiter/ess is attractive then you must spruik your friend in a way that he/she will find both cute and sexy. Then you will pay for the meal. And drive him/her home or offer to pay for a cab if they are still disgruntled and sickened by your face.
A sign labeling you a lunch cutter will be worn at all times post 8PM. This is akin to some of the disgusting labeling mechanisms that were used in Nazi Germany but it is necessary to stamp out this horrible affliction that has reduced the shorter or less attractive members in your friendship group to frustration, tears and the broken plaster of many walls.
The muthafuckin’ law.