What ho! This past week I’ve had a visiting interstate friend to entertain. My buddy was a fine house guest, and even spent the better part of 30 minutes running after a rogue mouse we’ve been trying to entrap for weeks. Any boarder who arrives with rodent eradication skills is welcome in Chez Jeb!
Any mate of ours who crashes in our spare bed seems to be obsessed with the enchanted softness of our mattress. The thing is, it’s a cheap-ass nasty Ikea mattress – the most inexpensive one they sold at the time. It’s probably constructed from at least fourteen Chinese children’s souls, but everyone claims they drift off to sleep immediately because it’s the most comfortable thing to sleep on in the world. This could be an ongoing condition of my ladyconfusion, but I’d always figured a heaving pile of breasts would be the most comfortable thing possible to sleep on. If there was such a mattress molded in this concept – say, the Sealy Breastopedic – I’d be replacing my existing mattress stat.
This week I’ve also been joking with my best mate about the ridiculous things which can set off anxiety in us. Since my childhood, I’ve been terrified by the phone ringing (you can imagine what a rip-snorter this was during my call centre years). My gut automatically assumes the worst case scenario before I answer the call. Caller ID has helped me get over it, but when I get an “unknown caller”… I’m always a little hesitant to answer. Even worse is when I let the call drift to voicemail, then I’m forced to make the gut-wrenching call to discover what I’m convinced will be awful news (but is usually just something like our real estate whinging that they want to organise an inspection).
That’s why I was so into the idea of Voice2Text. Your callers leave a voicemail, it’s converted into a SMS, then you receive it! No messy anxiety dialling into my voicemail, it’s there for me to read, BAM. Problem solved.
The problem is that Voice2Text is not quite perfect when it comes to interpreting voices. It does a pretty decent job, but sometimes it’s unintentionally ridiculous. My best mate’s name is Cam, but the service frequently misinterprets his name as “Gam”, amongst other gibberish misspellings when he leaves a message. In the world of Gays™, “GAM” usually interprets to Gay Asian Male… which Cam isn’t, as far as I’m aware. But alongside the other misspellings and acronyms whenever he leaves me voicemail, the resulting SMS usually sounds like a horny Asian guy has left me a message, ready for sweaty manlove involving sexual practices I’ve yet to grapple.
At least my voicemail-based anxiety was eventually rewarded with hilarious SMS. See, there’s a good outcome to everything! I’m sure there’s room for a mental health-based version of The Biggest Loser out there (I’m going to regret writing this, because every time I joke about implausible reality shows on here, they appear a few years later. Stand by – Jules Lund will need a new gig eventually, anyway).
If you’re feeling impatient and can’t wait for a TV-based version of The Biggest Headcase, then prepare for your nipples to crystalise like diamonds! Many months ago I had the misfortune of enduring an episode of Today Tonight. On this particular occasion they were wheeling out the fun ol’ “OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE PEOPLE ARE FREAKS, AREN’T THEY?!” story. They had all the usual black-and-white slow-mo scenes of people washing their hands endlessly (although, to be fair, that’s a fairly permissible response to letting a Today Tonight reporter into your own home).
What piqued my interest was the treatment they were purporting: a computer simulator which plunged OCD victims into a gratingly pixellated world where their trigger fears were catapulted at them relentlessly. It was completely indistinguishable from a bargain bin Super Nintendo game. The psychologists in the story swore black and blue that it all worked perfectly, although I suspect their certifications were on par with, say, one Dr. Mario.
Still, I can’t help but think that could be the next hit arcade machine at Intencity and Timezone. Obsessive Hand Washer IV! Mortal Kleaning! Etc, etc.
Speaking of my mate Cam, it’d be a disservice if I didn’t mention a current life-need of his which has arisen. Throughout his life as a committed homosexualist, he’s never had the pleasure of a lesbian friend. This seems to have become quite the goal for him lately, so given the number of hypothetical gameshows I’ve already mentioned in this post, I’d like to propose Australia’s Next Top Lesbian, connecting Australia’s dykes with the gay dudes who… still can’t quite work out why they need a lesbian mate, but want one anyway.
Given Cam’s vagueness over his actual need for a lesbian, the challenges in Next Top Lesbian will play out in an similarly confusing manner:
- Design a emoticon which expresses displeasure, but only as a lesbian.
- Fashion a lesbian flower arrangement using only wrenches and hammers.
- Compose a perplexingly ambiguous gender-shifting acoustic ballad.
- Product-placement-heavy pillow fights, featuring Sealy Breastopedic mattresses.
The elimination ceremony will feature… oh, I don’t know, Deborah Hutton symbolically smashing some of her own branded kitchenware on the face of the least popular lesbian of the week. But really, if you’re a lesbian in Melbourne with a similar inexplicable desire to become mates with a 6’8″ dude who will inevitably invert you by your ankles while he’s drunk, go bother him on Twitter!
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Oh stop it, I’m blushing!
But I do wish my rodent hunt had produced more results. It would have been beneficial to you, not to mention grandly entertaining for me. You see, I had already planned the final phase of the Great Mouse Caper: putting every single item in your kitchen that could pass as a mouse-holding receptacle out on the bench, and making you guess which one I caught him in! Hilarity ensues. Also, possibly adaptable to a game show. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.