Packin' it

What is it about having a penis that leaves you unable to pack a bag properly? Every time I go food shopping i dread not getting a self serve till (the nearest shop to me just calls you up if they think too many people are queueing for self serve you see). I swear every man who works there approaches a bag the way the Swedish chef approaches a stew pot, they flail about a bit and in everything goes in no order and with no delicacy whatsoever. Which is awesome, as I much prefer it if any cake I get had been squashed by a bottle of water - saves me chewing, eh? Bruised fruit is always better too, clearly where I live unbruised fruit and veg is for squares and pansies.

No pastry should be flaccid...

I'm getting so fed up of  picking up a croissant to find its one of those awful, soggy, floppy ones. Who wants their breakfast to have the consistency of play-dough? I sure as hell don't. Croissants, much like all other types of pastry, should be firm and flaky, anything otherwise in inexcusable as far as I'm concerned. Should I ever find myself in any kind of position of global power and/or influence I want to make the makers of soggy pastries aware; there will be consequences.

Chipped nails

I get really frustrated when I see people whose nail varnish has chipped away and they've just left it. Seriously, it doesn't take two minutes to take your nail varnish off. I've yet to see one person who makes the 'raddish fingers' look work while they're trotting around with the top half of their nails pinky/red and the bottom half all raggedy looking where your nail varnish started chipping off over a week ago. I've no problem with keeping them painted, I like to keep mine painted, but it drives me nuts when people leave them looking scruffy.

It's the same as when I see people with liquid eyeliner that's not in a straight line. Struggling with the brush style applicators? Damn, if only you could get them in a pen style to ensure a smoother line. Makes me want to wipe it off and yell 'JUST STICK TO KOHL FFS!'

Google "privacy" posters

I noticed a particularly annoying google poster on the tube today. It was encouraging people to leave their cookies on their pc so that they can log in easier etc. Fair enough, entering your log in details every time you load a website is pretty annoying, I'll give them that. But the poster says it's like leaving ''a trail of bread crumbs'' everywhere you go so you can remember where you've been. Hmm, not quite like that, is it google? Not unless some corporate c*nt collected all of those crumbs I'd left, analysed them to see what kind of food they were from, and then sold that information on to everyone so that every time I opened my front door they were all there shouting 'HEY! HEY! YOU HAD A CHEESE ROLL ONCE. LOOK, I'VE GOT ONE HERE! BUY IT NOW! GOOGLE TOLD US ALL YOU LOVE THEM!'

Christmas is not in November...

I've been listening to Christmas music for about a week now. Part of me a disgusted with myself, but the majority of me isn't even sorry.

to tweet or not to tweet...

I'm getting so fed up of people walking straight at me or walking into me because they're plodding along playing with their phones. I want to smack their hands from the underneath so their phone goes flying and that text/tweet/facebook status they were in the middle of, which I'm sure not nothing dull or mundane like 'lol in ldn. is kwl. lol' becomes lost to the world.

That said you've got to be pretty dim to wander around central London and not pay attention to where you're going so this perhaps is Dawrinism at its finest. I think fairly soon the sight of people floating down the Thames frantically texting/tweeting/whatever 'is it rainin cuz im all wet now??but forgot my brolly.not lolz.' will become a common sight.

Mirror hogging

I'm getting really tired of having to fight my way past people preening themselves when I use public loos.

Please, your foundation was seven inches thick when you left the house and you've got so much mascara on you can't open your eyes fully, the last thing you need is more slap. I'm willing to bet there are trapped miners who've got a better oxygen supply than your pores. Just be gone and let me wash my hands without someone practising their pout over my shoulder.