I went over to Forgottenmachine’s new pad+ on Sunday. After examining his loft space++ (which would make any conspiracy theorist’s mouth water), we settled down for tea and a hushed conversation+++ on the physics of Kung Fu movies. Okay, no more footnotes. I promise.
I was trying really hard not to think about the unique difficulties that Kung Fu fighters have to face when visiting the water closet. For example, what happens when the Dark Matter strikes the water? Does it ricochet back up towards its orifice of origin, or does it explode into a thousand pieces, coating everything in a fine layer of that-which-once-was-food. Food for though, huh?
Fortunately, Mrs FM emerged from the south wing of Casa Máquina Olvidada and rescued me from my ruminations with a truly chilling story about a purveyor of teddy bears at the Kirstenbosch craft market. This, in turn, sparked a discussion about how people with certain personality types – or more to the point, dysfunctions – seem ideally suited to specific jobs:
- Thick skin; unable to take no for an answer; people want to smash their faces in = Telemarketer
- Anal-retentive; detail obsessed; no social skills or fashion sense = Engineer
- Vindictive; suffers various forms of OCD; social pariah = Auditor
- And so on…
It’s a variation on the old “Nature versus Nurture” theme. I can’t quite decide whether people pick a career path according to their predisposition for a particular kind of activity, or if it’s the work that brings out the necessary latent characteristics. Then again, maybe we’re all just part of a worldwide experiment that the alien lizard people from Robertson are conducting. It would go some way towards explaining this rat-in-a-maze feeling I get when I’m at the office.
+ Yes, I do use words like “pad”
++ No, that is not a euphemism
+++ Mrs Forgottenmachine was having an afternoon nap
the other side of the mountain 
You do have fashion sense.
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He does? 😀
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He does. The rest of us just haven’t cottoned on yet.
It’s so, like, totally the future, man.
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I have to beleieve that people, at least subconsciously, chose their place of employ and the type of job they do. The idea that it’s completely random that retards somehow all find themselves at bank help desks or food aisle managers, fills me with dread.
It must be some sort of Darwinian survival of the fittest in the workplace thing.
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‘Machine: Wow. So we can look forward to a future unencumbered by outmoded notions like ‘elegance’, ‘functionality,’ and ‘accidental combustion’, then?
(I’m going to have to stop before I’m strangled by a polyester tie with a tractor motif.)
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So wait…Kung-fu pee is dark matter? How did you reach that conclusion? I’m confused.
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Do Kyknoord’s dream of eclectic tees?
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@FM – no they trot off and get them printed.
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forgottenmachine & ‘zilla: Having fun, are we?
cedric: Okay, but that doesn’t preclude the possibility that they weren’t retards to begin with, but the environment ate their souls.
betenoir: “That-which-once-was-food” is dark matter, not “that-which-once-was-drink“. Important distinction.
granny wrangler: Try hand painted, my friend.
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“Anal-retentive; detail obsessed; no social skills or fashion sense = Engineer”
I know someone like this. And it ain’t you.
You’ve made my day Kyk. And made me realise again: I’ve done the right thing.
😉
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translation, teaching -> pathological neuroses
dear lord. it all makes sense now.
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i am well impressed. so when you painting my knickers then?
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oh jesus that was not meant to come out like that. i think i need to go and lie down and shoot myself. in no particular order.
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So GW, does this mean Kyk will be examining your loft space as well?
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ew. okay, so literaly dark matter.
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This loft is closed for business.
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peas: Flattery will get you everywhere. Glad to be of help.
anne: That doesn’t add up. You haven’t completed the equation.
granny wrangler: Bwahahahahahaha! Too late. I am so not letting you forget that
forgottenmachine: Only if she supplies tea & biscuits.
betenoir: Ew got it.
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:-p
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I have often discussed this very same topic at my Bijoux Love Palace. Have you ever thought about what happens when these unfortunate “types” breed? With each other? This kind of genetic mutation can have the most disturbing results eg. Traffic Cop + Prostitute = Estate Agent
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They’re not called “pathological neuroses” for nothing…
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No fashion sense, no social (or any other, for that matter) skills, no defined bone structure, no logic, no life. Is this why I’m a blogger?
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I’m still stuck on the word ‘orifice’. Heh. Well, not stuck in the literal sense. I can’t tell much about your fashion sense. The only clothing I recall seeing was your pants. And I’ll leave it at that. 😉
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annicker: I’m afraid to ask…
anne: I suppose not.
red: Nah. That’s just what the alien lizard people want you to believe.
livewire: The green skin and hair – do these not ring any bells? How about “HULK SMASH!!”? Feh, kids today.
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i think i lost my fashion sense when i built my first circuit on a bread-board. i just connected that resistor to the transistor.. and then it was gone
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Anal-retentive; detail obsessed; no social skills or fashion sense = Engineer, and also technology writer, if I think about it. Kinda scares me, that does. Guess they are somewhat the same thing…
I don’t have a cool leather jacket though. Just a semi trendy velvet one. LOL. Most be the designer residual trying to break free…
Sorry – didn’t mean to write an essay. I theoretically have my own blog for that.
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I thought, as Douglas Adams did, that the mice were behind it all. Was I wrong?
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other-duke: I lost mine when I discovered that nobody cares what you wear under your lab coat.
mjw: Ah, but we get to wear hard hats and safety vests. How cool is that?
doug: I’m willing to concede the point. My evidence – compelling though it may be – is still only circumstantial.
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>we get to wear hard hats and safety vests.
You forgot plaid.
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Hard hats, safety vests and plaid?
Ye gods.
It’s a Village People fan club gathering 🙂
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‘zilla: It isn’t compulsory.
parenthesis: Is there a “The Construction Guy from the Village People” fan club?
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It amazes me sometimes to find what men talk about when they talk. Dark matter, heh heh.
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For the record, I would just like to make it clear that this ‘dark matter’ conversation happened entirely within the confines of Kyk’s head.
I wash my hands of any involvement.
After flushing, of course.
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i am pretty well convinced that my old job gave me a certain degree of ocd- but then again, looking back on my life, its entirely possible it was just hibernating until i started working… then again…
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Bit late to deny it now Ten Miles – we all know about the discussions you and Kyk have 🙂
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A construction guy, Kyk? Not sure. However a number of them do have some rather odd items pinned to their leather jackets – it may be a reach but one or two of them might be a spanner or wrench. You looking to do some DIY? 🙂
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Cool. True. But I have to wear wrist guards due to the hazardous nature of the keyboard and mouse (or, more accurately, 20+ years’ use thereof). That, in conjunction with my permanent frown, makes it appear as if I’m looking for a fight.
I mean, I am, but I didn’t want it to be so obvious.
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miss cellania: Don’t let this entry fool you. It’s mostly about tanks and power tools.
forgottenmachine: Quite right. As a new(ish) father, you have plenty of Dark Matter to deal with as it is.
angel: So that’s a definite “maybe”, is it?
parenthesis: I thought we covered this: tanks and power tools, dammit!
mjw: Perhaps the Ginsu knife set on your desk isn’t such a good idea, either.
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Power tools? Hmm. Try inputting “Power Tools” into Google. Be prepared for what it may or may not come up with*
* No pun intended
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After you did the Les Miserables thing, everybody knows you walk on water. So a more pertinent question is: How could you forget?
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