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Showing posts with label the art of.... Show all posts
Showing posts with label the art of.... Show all posts
THE ART OF... BEING MARRIED NO# 5463768
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THE ART OF... SMALL TALK. 5 TIPS TO SURVIVE THIS MINI SOCIAL HELL.
Some people were born to
mingle and spend the days sharpening their small talk skills to perfection.
Say, the queen of England.
However since some of us (but not all of us) are not
in fact, the queen of England, the art of small talk might get a bit
challenging.
Fret no more my friends. With these simple five tips, making
small talk becomes a breeze.
1. Keep an open mind
Meaning - before you even start, you need to relax
- keep an open tab at the bar and keep drinking. Or more specific, to avoid
disasters, just make sure you start talking right after you begin
feeling tipsy, and stop making any social contact right before you jump
on the table and commence dancing the Gangnam Style.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
2. Remember to
properly introduce yourself
Meaning - always
exaggerate. People are not interested in talking to dull, ordinary,
underachiever types like themselves.
If you can't make your
identity better, then make it up.
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3. Talk
Meaning - you need to talk
my friend, as it is after all dubbed a 'small talk', dahhh. So say something
for god's sake. Try and be fluent - so have a few topics in mind. And always
finish with a question so you could finally take a break from all the rubbish
you just said, and let the other party sweat.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
4. Listen
Meaning - nodding your head
up and down, making 'ahham' 'ahham' noises (and if you really want to listen
hard to your partner - grasp your chin between your index finger and your thumb
and go 'hmmmm' twice and 'interesting' once). Don't overdo it by nodding too
quickly, be patient my friend it will soon be over.
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5. Move on
gracefully
Meaning - when you see an
opportunity to exit the conversation (something between a minute or two) then
just go go go,
don't hold back, run like the wind, get the hell out of this
misery!!! But gracefully.
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THE ART OF... NEW ROMANCE.
Love is a wonderful thing and seriously guys it's really quite simple.
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THE ART OF...URBAN LIVING. SOMEONE IS AT MY WINDOW or TILL THE TREE DO US PART.
Last year
when winter swept the streets of Melbourne and I was washing the dishes by the
kitchen window, a sudden movement disturbed my peripheral vision’s tranquillity.
It caused me a minor heart attack, which ended in another sad case of plate
suicide.
There was someone at my window.
A minute later, my slow-to-react brain cells figured that the man wasn’t actually at my window but rather sitting in his own apartment in a different building altogether. It was just that up until that day my kitchen view was dominated by a huge green tree with thick, thriving green leaves and parrots and a nice, handwritten title saying - “life in the country is fab.” Problem is, I’m not living in the country and with the winter stripping my tree buck-naked – I realised again one of urban living true horrors – neighbours at my window.
They are two meters away, they are weird looking people and they can watch every move you make. Here are a few of ours.
UGLY NAKED GUYS
Like in Friends, everybody has their own ‘ugly naked guy’. We had two. Again kitchen window – this
time in Tel Aviv. My Russian bear (Igal) was nonchalantly cooking a
stir-fry when he spotted a hairy bum gazing back at him. Appetite lost, I was
called to the window to spot the hairy creature myself. I put on my I’m-just-checking-the-weather
look and took a glimpse at his other full fur side. After a minute or two,
another prime ape joined and in a naked harmony they made dinner.
From that day on, I needn’t have to
sneak a peek to experience the wilderness right at my window. Whenever I walked
into the kitchen there they were - two naked dudes bending over to clear the
dishwasher, squatting to pick a tomato off the floor, shaking their bum bums to
the beat.
THE GOLDEN AGE AUDIENCE
We were invited to our friends’ place
one weekend for a Sunday brunch and a movie. Little did we know that we were
the leading actors in this feature film. Our audience, consisted of three
elderly neighbours, sat in their front row seats on their balcony across from
our friends’ living-room window (only 2m away!). They had their refreshments ready
and were super excited as they watched us perform.
THE ASIAN STALKER
THE ASIAN STALKER
“Oh my god,” I called Bear on the
phone to let him know that “I have a weird Asian guy stalking me from the
next-door building”. Our apartment is all windows on both sides, but living in
the unusual third floor (it’s Melbourne after all, third floor is considered to
be a skyscraper in the suburbs) always gave me the illusion that I am free to
do as I please without being watched.
“Nobody is following you,” Bear
reassured. I thought otherwise. The dude was glued to the window, not moving at
all. I felt trapped in a glass cage. Whichever way I went (living room,
bedroom, there’s not much else) he was there glued straight to the window. Who
does such a thing? He didn’t budge so I had to squat and crawl so he wouldn’t
see me. So was the case the next day, and the next.
Until one day I hid behind a
curtain, and I watched HIM. A-ha! Stupid me, by looking closely I realised he
wasn’t glued to the window at all; he just had his computer screen fixed right
underneath the window and so had to sit right there. Probably was chatting with
his friends saying there’s a weird looking chick watching him from behind a
drape…
THE INTELLIGENCE OFFICER
In the city a good positioned
window equals power. Intelligence. And who better to collect information and
spread it around than my dear mum. I’m sooo happy I don’t have her or her
deputy Mrs. Window-box as my window neighbour; bending over the window barrier,
wearing her flowery nightgown, watching the passers by, listening to the voices
coming out of the windows and every now and again calling out to someone she
knows.
And I failed to mention the coughing dude, the piano man and the moaning
slut. All were my window neighbours. So, who were yours?
***
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Illustration by Igal Hodirker
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THE ART OF... BEING HAPPY. HAPPINESS IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER.
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On behalf of Comic-ish I would like to wish you all a very happy day. Happiness for me is first of all staying away from supermarkets as much as I can, getting as much natural sun, and getting into the groove with a classic silly tune - preferably Barry Manilow's Copacabana.
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THE ART OF…NOSE PICKING. 5 WAYS TO PICK YOUR NOSE WITHOUT GETTING CAUGHT DOING SO.
I never pick my nose, ever. Or well, I never let anyone catch me. And it is high time for you booger hunters to sharpen your technique and stop with the amateurish public digging when everyone around can spot you. What are you? Some kind of disgusting animal? Well, yes, but why confirm what we know and suppress?
And so just for you we picked five simple ways to pick, scratch and explore your nose without attracting attention to the fact that you're at it.
The thinker :: A philosophical nose-picking technique that requires patience and gentle movements. Ponder the wonders of the world while you dig with your pinky, yet appear extremely intelligent.
The talented :: Yes you might draw some attention with this technique, but only to showcase a new and extraordinary talent you just discovered. Pick the closest wind instrument you can put your hands on. It can be a piccolo or bagpipes for all that matter, don't restrict yourself. Stick it in and do your thing.
The distracter :: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it Rick Astley back from oblivion doing the Macarena? Whatever it is, this nose picking technique needs good improvising skills and quick fingers. After all, your crowd will be distracted for only a few seconds if Rick Astley was to come back.
The master, a.k.a. the 'no hands' :: Not everyone can pull this as it requires some bloody flexible face muscles. Indeed an advanced technique that gives people no clue of what you are doing. However, the downside - people will have no fucking clue of what the fuck you are doing. Weirdo.
The undercover :: Get your face under a cover and your hands on the go. Do it with the help of your shirt or sweater and call it a new dressing trend. Do it under a burqa and call it freedom of religion. No one can say anything to that.
And so just for you we picked five simple ways to pick, scratch and explore your nose without attracting attention to the fact that you're at it.
The thinker :: A philosophical nose-picking technique that requires patience and gentle movements. Ponder the wonders of the world while you dig with your pinky, yet appear extremely intelligent.
The talented :: Yes you might draw some attention with this technique, but only to showcase a new and extraordinary talent you just discovered. Pick the closest wind instrument you can put your hands on. It can be a piccolo or bagpipes for all that matter, don't restrict yourself. Stick it in and do your thing.
The distracter :: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it Rick Astley back from oblivion doing the Macarena? Whatever it is, this nose picking technique needs good improvising skills and quick fingers. After all, your crowd will be distracted for only a few seconds if Rick Astley was to come back.
The master, a.k.a. the 'no hands' :: Not everyone can pull this as it requires some bloody flexible face muscles. Indeed an advanced technique that gives people no clue of what you are doing. However, the downside - people will have no fucking clue of what the fuck you are doing. Weirdo.
The undercover :: Get your face under a cover and your hands on the go. Do it with the help of your shirt or sweater and call it a new dressing trend. Do it under a burqa and call it freedom of religion. No one can say anything to that.
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Happy picking Everybody!
What's your technique? The thinker? The master? or the undercover?
If we forgot mentioning any other technique please feel free to comment bellow :-)
THE ART OF…PROCRASTINATING. 5 THINGS I HAVE DONE TODAY, TRYING TO AVOID _____ FILL THE GAP.
Not ashamed to admit, I am a natural born procrastinator. I manage to accentuate the insignificant and eliminate the important stuff. Is it a gift or a true remarkable talent? Can’t tell, but somehow I drift away, pulled by the undercurrents of truly foolish trifles and when I float back again to the surface I discover – “Hey it’s already 7:30 pm! The day is officially over! Time for some Master Chef”.
Not different today.
First - creating a virtual ‘to do’ list is extremely important if only to know what to avoid. After doing that today (and of-course going through the amazingly boring facebook news feed – who cares that you are having coffee with your best friend? Some event, pfff!), my brains felt available for only one groundbreaking endeavour and that is the creation of dimples. I always thought they are cute and will suit my face. Took a whole lot of time I’ll tell you.
Giving that one up, I remembered we were in desperate need of a new Krugstad or Klippa or Ektrog or whatever that is that has a Scandinavian sound to it and is preferably made of fibreboard and herring.
Lunch break! All that getting lost in IKEA’s mazy showroom looking for a proper Hogcrappen made me hungry. Well, one just have to eat before getting back to work. I stepped out of the Scandinavian paper-mash paradise into the streets of Asian galore - land of dumplings, rotten bok choys and unidentified creatures floating in a noodle soup. I had the noodle soup. Let me tell you, I still don't know what was in there but I suspect the stock was made of stockings.
On the way back something truly serious grabbed my attention. Autumn leaves! Got to find the biggest leaf ever! Must find. Must find.
Sitting back at my computer I started feeling the load of the hard work I have done so far. My brain once again was a scrambled egg waiting for a fork to pick in it. Nothing. Who can work like that, right? Blood circulation was in-order, therefore it was time to perform a marvellous headstand. Too bad I have no idea how to get in that awkward position, nor can I perform a split or roll.
Thank god, it's 7:30! Day is over! Time for Master-Chef...
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