The Catalyst

Today, it is finally time to tell the tale that sparked this whole blog in the first place.

As I  mentioned previously, it was a night out last Wednesday with friends that prompted me to start writing, based on the colorful; wait.....downright artist's dream pallet of characters and individuals who's story, albeit incognito, needs to be told.

I had suggested that we all go to a popular Orlando drinking spot, lets just call it "The Venue" in case someone tries to hunt me down and seriously maim me for writing about them in this manner.

Why I had decided that this place would be sufficiently entertaining, Im not sure. However, in hindsight, it clearly was a flash of inspirational genius.

About three and a half minutes after walking in, (literally, it took us no longer to start wondering if we had entered another dimension), we had already dubbed the evening "The Villages Night Out". For those of you who are not from Central Florida, The Villages is Florida's Friendliest Retirement Hometown! Also known as a large community north of Orlando for retirees which raised some eyebrows and later became the butt of everyone's jokes a few years ago when a large sector of the inmates, sorry, residents contracted gonorrhea - from each other.

Isn't it a charming place?

It has a catchy little theme tune and everything only I don't think the jingle writers managed to find anything that rhymes with "Breeding ground for STD's." Its not that hard -

Golfing abound and lovely green trees

Walk with your hound and feel the breeze

Don't make a sound and get on your knees

I could go on...


Anyway, we walked in the "venue" and discovered that we were the youngest people in the place. And believe me, we do not class ourselves as spring chickens anymore.

Now normally, being surrounded with a mature clientele would not raise an eyebrow for me. However, the inappropriate, sexually explicit behavior that was being exhibited by these classy individuals would raise even the eyebrows of Hugh Heffner himself.

After sitting ourselves down and ordering drinks, we proceeded to let our eyes wander around the room and take in the sights.

It was like Vegas on a Saturday night after two rufees and a shot of absinth.

Behind us, (and of course I was sitting with my back to them so I had to keep pulling the old "Im just going to swivel my chair around and check out what's going on over here while not looking completely obvious or suspicious whatsoever" move), was a couple, probably in their late 50's, making out like a pair of lovesick teenagers at 10.58pm with an 11pm curfew. It was disgusting. They were on a couch, all over each other, for the world to see.

Now don't get me wrong. Im not against people showing their affection in public. Within the realms of human decency. But this was soft porn. And it got worse.

At one point during the night, they must have thought that no one was paying attention to them anymore because they took their little peepshow onto the dance floor and carried on with the performance. Now had this instance just been limited to the one couple, I might have forgiven it and waved it off as an amusing part of the evening, no harm no foul.

But there were at least three other couples doing exactly the same thing (including one guy who looked suspiciously like Joe Pesci).

They put Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey to shame. I really wish that THEY had been put in the corner.

And that was just one slice of the "You Have Got To Be Kidding Me" pie that was the evening.

I don't think there is enough space in one blog to write about everyone so I will just have to spread it out over the course of a few blogs.

Keep reading folks - in the next episode I will introduce "Teacher and Student" and "The Third Wheel". And eventually I will get around to the piece de resistance.

But let me leave you with this thought. At what age is making out in public considered to be inappropriate? I hate to be ageist and Im sure that when I get to 50 and Im dragging my husband out to bars so that we can recapture our youth, we will be making out just like horny teenagers.

On second thoughts, forget that.

Wednesday is Survivor Night.

The Douchebag Test

OK. So I promised I would reveal the results of my douchebag test during my next blog.

(Its like waiting for your MENSA results in the hope that you are not a qualified moron)

Apparently, I am 20% douche but it doesn't really count because I am female. You have to come from Mars if you want to qualify (y'know, Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus).

Anyway, what amused me the most about the test was the questions. Had I been the individual creating this, clearly well thought out, heavily researched test, I possibly would have asked slightly different questions. However, I am not out to create another douchebag test. Lord knows we are enabling them enough. Im beginning to twitch slightly that I am dedicating even one more iota of time writing about them but it is my duty to report on what I see.

Anyway, just to give you a sample of what the world wide web is qualifying as a douchebag, here are some of the questions -

(I suggest to my brother that you do not answer any of these honestly or you might be forced to rethink your lifestyle)

- Do you wear crocs?

(I remember a time when those funky shoes were fashionable but apparently now, not so much)

-Have you ever put deodorant on your junk?

(seriously, do people do that?)

-Do you or have you ever in your adult life worn a speedo?

(working in the hospitality business in close proximity to a swimming pool, I can safely say that there are plenty of you out there. Please stop. It is an assault on the eyes of everyone around you. My retinas have sustained multiple stress fractures from the attack of the over 50's banana hammocks. Its like driving past an accident. You really don't want to look but your eyes just roam over there before you have a chance to catch yourself.......)

-How many articles of clothing do you own from Abercrombie and Fitch?

(Ha, funny. I hate that store. So pretentious. Why do you tie your merchandise in knots? Now I have to iron my damn t-shirt before I can even wear it.)

And the last example I am going to give you but my favorite:

-Do you drive with your wrists on the steering wheel?

(This one was my favorite because after I had taken the test seriously, I went back and answered the questions as if I really was a douchebag and when I got my results, there were comments under the answers. I answered "yes" to the above question and the comment the test threw back at me was "Why? seriously, why? You have hands. What are you possibly going to accomplish with your wrists? Do you pick up a hammer with your wrists?"

I found that to be highly amusing and the first thing that came to mind was a guy in a wrinkled shirt and a speedo, wearing a pair of crocs, trying to wield a hammer while deodorizing his junk at the same time. Apparently they are out there people. They could be your next door neighbor. Its possibly time to re-kindle the neighborhood watch team.

Before I finish my rant about douchebags and carry on with my people watching tales, I have one more thing that I had jotted down last year that I want to share. And that is this:

What if an alien came down to Earth, and the very first human specimen that this alien encountered was your classic, proverbial, grade A, croc wearing, junk deodorizing, Starbucks world hunger curing, most animated of all douchebags? Think about it. This extra-terrestrial, alien species have spent lightyears creating some binary sequence code that will enable them to break through the Earth's barrier, secretly placed there by the Bush administration when we weren't looking, only to come face to face with that asshole.

Its downright embarrassing.

The alien would undoubtably do one of two things.

A, get out his death laser and obliterate the douchebag. Lets hope his spaceship lands outside Starbucks. Or,

B, turn around and go back to his planet and report to his fellow aliens, anxiously awaiting the news that Humans and aliens can finally co-exist in peace and harmony to the mutual benefit of both species, that NO, there will be no cohesion. In fact, planet Earth should be blown to smithereens Death Star style because it is populated with complete douchebags. Im fairly sure the term douchebag exists on the hypothetical alien planet I am referring to.

And boom. Instant apocalypse. I bet the Mayans didn't take into account the douchebag factor when they created their calendar.

The funny thing is that on one website, I actually came across a scientific, medical diagnosis for this kind of behavior. For the love of God, it's bad enough that we diagnose every child who stares out of the window for more that 2.5 seconds as ADHD, now we are perpetuating and accepting the behavior of a douchebag by labeling it as Histrionic Personality Disorder.

Histrionic Personality Disorder?

For your personal enjoyment I have copied the definition of this term from Wikipedia so you can better educate yourself about this terrible disease.

Histrionic personality disorder (HPD) is defined by the American Psychiatric Association as a personality disorder characterized by a pattern of excessive emotionality and attention-seeking, including an excessive need for approval and inappropriately seductive behavior, usually beginning in early adulthood. These individuals are lively, dramatic, vivacious, enthusiastic, and flirtatious.

They may be inappropriately sexually provocative, express strong emotions with an impressionistic style, and be easily influenced by others. Associated features may include egocentrism, self-indulgence, continuous longing for appreciation, and persistent manipulative behavior to achieve their own needs.

(According to this definition, I have just self-diagnosed myself with HPD)

HPD. Otherwise known as Douchebagitis.

We must all pray for a cure.

The Anatomy of a Douchebag

So, I know this is the third time I have posted in about three hours but I am having way too much fun to stop!

Well folks, it's about time that I actually shared a story with you to demonstrate what I have been prattling on about. I was originally going to start with my Bus Tales (kinda like Veggie Tales but a little more child unfriendly) but I decided that I couldn't carry on blogging without getting the original douchebag story out of the way. I am actually going to write verbatim what I wrote about a year ago when I started jotting down notes for my international best seller, The Anatomy Of A Douchebag. But I will tell the story of how it all came about.

There is a Starbucks close to the place I work which is located in a very swanky part of town. Needless to say, the kind of people that go in there are the usual screenplay writers, (has anyone actually HAD a movie produced that they wrote in a Starbucks?), those pretending to understand what is printed in the Financial Times and the artsy types that are sitting around debating the sexuality of George Orwell when he wrote Animal Farm and how it influenced his writing. Anyway, I was stood with a dear friend, waiting to receive my cup of coffee when a gentleman struts into the store on his cell phone. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary as most people in there are hooked up to some kind of device or another. (I swear to God some of them would bring their own EKG machines if they thought it would enhance their cool factor. Its a competition to see who can have the most devices surrounding them at the same time. Its like Best Buy threw up.) Im babbling again.

So, in walks this guy who takes a brief look around before positioning himself prominently in the very middle of the floor and shouts into his cell phone "Yeah Man. Sorry I couldn't take your call yesterday. I was busy feeding the homeless". He then proceeded to pontificate on how he and his company fed three hundred homeless people in downtown Orlando and what a humbling experience it was. At the top of his voice. We immediately labelled him a douchebag. (although I am glad that some hungry people were able to eat even if it was at the hands of this guy).

Needless to say, my friend and I took one look at each other and proceeded to spill coffee out of our noses. It was so contrived and obviously not heartfelt and meaningful to him whatsoever. I turned to my friend and said " Sorry I couldn't take your call yesterday. I was busy curing world famine". More nose coffee.

That then sparked a conversation about the number of people that came into that coffee shop who would fall into the category of douche. I then vowed to write a book.

During the next week or so, the following musings unfolded and I just dug out my journal earlier on so that I could include it for your enjoyment.

Chapter 1 (the only chapter)

Tales of Doucheosity

It seems to me, and bear in mind that I am not basing this observation on any kind of Pyschology or Sociology degree, or any other educationally impressive achievement for that matter, other than my intensely honed skills of people watching; that sections of society are usually always divided into two groups - Rich and Poor, Black and White, Upper or Lower Class, Republican or Democrat. You get the idea. So it stands to reason that on a scale of doucheosity (yes it does exist. Its like the scales of justice only different), that one would either be a douche, or not.

Well I can now tell you that this is partially true. But like the many sub-sections / grey areas of society, there are also many levels of doucheosity that a person can achieve based on behavior, actions and words.

Lets look at the origin of the word. "Douchebag" as defined by the trusted by all, used in the World Scrabble Tournament, UrbanDictionary.com (where apparently, you can purchase douchebag mugs, t-shirts and other such merchandise at a low cost to you. Absolutely the cornerstone of any good souvenir collection) It produced the following:

"Douchebag : someone who has surpassed the levels of jerk and asshole, however, not yet reacher fuc*er or motherfuc*er. Not to be confused with douche"

This was my favorite definition out of all the ones I could find, primarily because it was published alongside an example photograph of Barney the Dinosaur.

A slightly more PC definition was:

"An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues, with no sense of how moronic he appears".

And a third and final, slightly more accusatory and possibly interpreted through one bad experience definition of the term is:

"A student or instructor at the Carlson School of Management at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities".

Quite what goes on at the University of Minnesota I'm not sure. Needless to say, based on THAT definition, I will not fail in my attempts to quash any desire my children have of going there.

The fact that during my research of the term "douchebag" the third result in my Google search was "Take the Douchebag Test", made me realize that yes, we as a society, are clearly more than aware of the problems that douchebags present to the current population, yet we are enabling these people by celebrating their very presence and encouraging others to measure themselves against their bad examples. It goes without saying that I took the douchbag test. (results in the next blog).

How It All Started.

OK. So before I really begin regaling you with tales, I would like to make it clear that while it is not my specific intention to laugh at the misfortune of others, this may sometimes be the case.

To those individuals who are my subject matter - you are inspirational! A favorite expression my Mum taught me is "It takes all sorts" and never a truer word has been said! Without you oddballs, douchebags, morons and lets face it, downright arseholes (sorry USA, Im going English with that one!!), this world would be a very boring place.

This may make me a terrible human being, but I take comfort in the fact that somewhere out there is a person, who has looked at me and thought " What the hell is she doing"! And that my friends, is one of the most important things to remember. The ability to laugh at yourself. As a very good friend of mine maintains - "You gotta check your dignity at the door". I know I have been the butt of many a person's joke before now so I feel more than comfortable exploiting the true stories of the people and circumstances I have come across.

Anyway. let me start at the beginning. My love of people watching came from my Mother. I remember sitting at a fabulous little table in Paris with her, watching the people who walked past and passing comment on them. Now I don't have anything against the French - that was just the memory I chose to go with.

I also remember standing on the escalator that leads up to ASDA in Stockport Town Center (Asda is the UK equivalent of Walmart only on a smaller scale). My Mum and I were standing behind a hugely obese woman who really had no business wearing the leggins that she was, and sharing a secret, knowing smile with my mum (Now come on people - don't judge. We've all done it.)

And so was born the other national pastime - People Watching. It you have never tried it, I highly recommend it. It will give you hours of entertainment at no cost to you other than a cup of coffee to hide your grin behind and possibly a newspaper when you lose it altogether.

Welcome!

Hi Folks. Welcome to my blog. Ive been thinking about doing this for a long time and I finally got the kick start I needed last night when I went out for a couple of drinks to say farewell to a friend.

I first wanted to start writing about my experiences when I came to Orlando as a non-resident awaiting my green card. I was unfortunate enough to be one of "those" people without transportation and a job and filled my days with volunteering at a local charity and way more entertaining than that, I got around using the highly innovative and technological Lynx Bus System. At that time of my life, I swore I would write a book about the people I came across during the long, seemingly never ending, sometimes painful bus journeys. But I didn't.

Then a couple of years ago, I was standing in a Starbucks, patiently awaiting my coffee (apparently I'm one of the minute few who still order a basic coffee but they even have a name for that now) and I happened to overhear a conversation that a fellow caffeine addict was having next to me. Well, I say overhear. It makes it sound like I was actually straining to catch a juicy tidbit of gossip when really, the guy was talking loud enough that the deaf barrister could hear over the noise of the coffee grinding machine. It was then I vowed that I would revisit my idea of writing a book. I even thought of a title -  The Anatomy Of A Douchebag. I spent a few hours crafting some well thought out insults directed at coffee man and other such individuals but it never really surmounted to anything.

However, after my experience at a local bar last night, I feel compelled to share my people watching thoughts and annotations with you all, so that you may share in the delight of knowing that no matter how weird you think you are, there is ALWAYS someone out there way stranger than you, that will make your life look like the epitome of normalcy.

It gives me hope that in this day and age of the smart phone revolution, we can still derive some semblance of personal entertainment by delighting in the idiosyncrasies of our fellow human beings.

I hope that my postings will make you smile after a long day at the office. It may even jog a few memories for some of you and I think that you will definitely know when I am writing about you! I will omit names for your protection if I feel so inclined.

Enjoy.