There's a difference between a cuddle and a hug. A cuddle is usually applied to a partner. It's tender and soft. It's a way of sharing your love for a woman without also sharing saliva. It provides comfort to someone who hasn't had the best of days, it shows that despite your failings and petty bickering, you are there for them. It's a warm expression in a cold bed before you fall asleep.
A hug is different. It's an embrace, but of a manly nature. Although a handshake is still the most appropriate exchange between two strangers, between friends it has been replaced. It's a tight grip, a show of strength and might. It is a pleasant show of kinship. The man on the other side of this burly entrapment not only knows your plight and quarry, but understands it implicitly. They may not have the words, but they have the action.
My attitude towards this action is likely to be rooted to my relationship with my father. He's a fine man. In fact, that description is a little empty. He is truly a man amongst men; someone that other men look up to. Educated and artistic, with an innate ability to make you laugh. A keen drinker and ferocious supporter of Sunderland Football. On Christmas Day he recognises his friends who have nowhere else to go, and offers them a top quality day of drink, food, and entertainment. He is also an incredible father figure. He makes a giant lunch for me every Sunday, and while it's well cooked and enough to feed a herd of fat cattle, I look forward to the man-hug just as much. It doesn't matter who is present or where we are; in the pub, at work, or watching strippers. My dad always greets me with a giant hug.
There has definitely been a change of attitude towards this behaviour between men over the past 20 years. If I were to guess (and I will because I do very little research for my writing) it would be that homosexuality has become more acceptable in society. 20 years ago people's attitudes towards being gay were very different. The gays were camp, and soft like fairies. They probably hugged each other in public, the bastards! For men to act the same as a gay would surely be seen as a sign of weakness, a sign of their masculinity on the wane. As attitudes towards homosexuality became more educated, I'm sure this also altered the opinion of hetero men and their displays of public affection. Because a hug between two men is not about physical attraction. I can state quite comfortably that I'm not "gay" for anyone, except the actor Ryan Reynolds. The strong hug that men share is about friendship.
As we get older, we need the support of our friends as much as we did when we were young. You should never devalue friendship. Whether you are single or in a committed relationship, your brood contains a wealth of experience and knowledge and know exactly how you feel and what you are going through. This is regardless of the situation. While women can listen and provide support, only men understand. You need that solidarity to survive. When you were young you all went out drinking together. It was fun. You would get drunk and break off from your friends at some point in the evening to go hunting for women. When we go out now it's not the same, and rightly so. Drinking is now about the company you keep, the conversations and stories you share while trying to speak loudly over music which must have gotten louder since you were 18. Don't get me wrong, a sly neck-on with a bird at the end of the night is a welcome bonus. But the event of a night out with the lads is to spend time together.
A woman who tries to stop a man from seeing his friends is evil. They think that by letting him "off the leash" his behaviour will regress to childhood and he will wander around a nightclub with his cock hanging out of his trousers actively seeking an accepting and acceptable female. This is not the case. A man needs time with his friends to talk about man-things. He might have problems that he can't share with you. He wants to share jokes and stories that you wouldn't find funny. He wants to talk about the new Avengers movie, or the Halo 4 release date, or how fucking absolutely mint Aliens is. It gives him time to relax himself for the unstoppable barrage of shit that is your life. Ever wonder why he is a good listener to all of your problems? Because he already shared his with his fellow brothers, and now he can focus 100% on you. Be thankful for his relationship with his friends, as it's probably saved your relationship more times than you'll ever know.
I had some words about the Monroe quote the other day, and would like to offer this rebuttal:
"I am a man. At times I act like a child; I play video games, I watch cartoons and sci-fi, and I laugh freely at things you may not find amusing. I spend time with my friends and we share man-hug greetings. I also possess more conventional qualities; I cook, I clean, I listen, I am thoughtful, and I always put the toilet seat down. I don't have a "best" or "worst". I was just born with a fine set of gonads. If you can't "handle" any of the above then you may leave, by door or by window".
Granted it's not as concise or snappy as the Monroe quote, but it definitely covers more ground than that tit-stick ever did.
Thursday 19 April 2012
Tuesday 17 April 2012
We Were All Invincible
I'm going to mention childhood today. I thought I would start with an unrelated story.
My father once told me that I had a magnet effect when it came to turds. We would walk from Ashbrooke, where he lived, to Sunderland City Centre most weekends. One time I walked into what must have been the World's Largest Dog-Shit. You know the kind that is like an egg; hard crust on the outside, broken to reveal a mass of yellow foulness. The smell alone would've been enough to floor an Rhino with no nose. If the Grim Reaper had a giant dog, it would drop shites like this. My father was annoyed, but slightly amused. Nowt funnier than an idiot walking through a big load. We headed back to his flat where my trainer was cleaned, father being less amused at this point. We walked along the same path again, now with clean feet. My father said he was watching me wander along barely paying attention when I turned slightly and managed to walk through the exact same shit-pile. Exasperated is probably the best word to describe my father's reaction, inexplicable was my seemingly never-satisfied attraction to dog's mess. Given the size of it I would be highly surprised if there was not a monument where this great turd resided:
"Here Lies The Remains of Turdosaurus. Trampled twice in a 15 minute spell by the same person".
Anyways, Mortality!
As I get older I am forced to face the fact that I will die. It's not unexpected, it's something we will all have to do eventually. It can get quite overwhelming if you give it too much attention. Your family, friends, loved ones, all will leave your life or you will leave theirs. Probably best to ignore it, eh? Well, no. Your awareness of your mortality can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Knowing that you have a deadline on your life, and you don't know when it will be, should push you to take giant fun-filled steps everyday. Trying new experiences, and reliving previous ones. It urges you to take chances, whether that be seeing the World or putting an extra chocolate bar in that milkshake you're making. Extra chocolate bars are always good. However, being aware of your mortality can also have the opposite effect; the fear that what you do may adversely affect the time you have left. We have safe lives, locks on our doors, money in our bank accounts from our safe jobs. What's the point in taking a risk for more when you are content with what you have? Suppose it depends on if you're really content or not. Are you sure your contentedness isn't just fear masking itself as something safe?
I tell myself I'm not afraid to die. How can I be afraid of something that I know is inevitable? Simply accepting this eventuality should be enough yet I find myself afraid to take risks. I enjoy my job, but it becomes increasingly unfulfilling. The wage is excellent, and I have bills to pay. I don't have a wage, I can't afford the essentials; gas/electric, the roof over my head, and Clotted Ice Cream for milkshakes. Now I'm not saying if I quit my job I will die, possibly by bursting into flames and running around a bit, but I'm not sure I would enjoy a life without the things I enjoy. Especially the milkshakes.
It's surely an age thing. I never thought about death as a young un. If I could describe myself as a child it would be that I graduated with a 1st in Daft Shite Studies from Mongington University. In my yearbook there was a picture of me under the heading "Most Likely to Shit Himself in Public". Fortunately, at least in the last few months, I've managed to avoid shitting my pants. Although I did shit someone elses. I was fearless. Regardless of how high up and unsafe the tree swing looked, I would be first one to try it. Most times I was fine. One time the rope snapped, I plummeted 15 feet down into a stream and smashed my hand onto a sharp rock. I needed stitches and almost lost the use of my thumb. Which was lucky as I would find it very useful in later life, especially when tossing off. I would spend hours on my BMX, racing at speed down large hills. You could guarantee some berk would've built a ramp at the bottom from some discarded plyboard and a couple of large bricks. I would be first to try it, again with the high likelihood of being injured. Or falling into a massive pile of dog-shit. But I didn't care. I never thought about actually breaking any bones. Thankfully the only serious injuries I ever inflicted upon my person were a dislocated elbow (trying to dance like Vanilla Ice at a disco), and breaking my nose (smashing my head through a water slide).
I'm giving this some thought as I head to Thorpe Park in a few days and I'm becoming concerned at the size and speed and likelihood of death these rides include. Never would've been a problem as a kid. I would be skipping to the front of the queue, and likely to try and free the contraption that holds you in your seat, just for a bigger thrill. But I know, now at the age of 31, that when I am actually standing in front of these gargantuan metal contraptions, I think it might be the first time in recent memory that I do shit myself.
I am getting older, we all are. On a large scale our increasing life-expectancy is already resulting in changes to our built environment. In ten years time I would like to be doing something different to what I am now, and feel a change too. Not safety or security, but happiness. Maybe fear will hold me back. Maybe it will hold us all back. But I know one thing for certain; telling a story about going on a roller coaster, full of screaming and swearing and possibly injuring someone, will make for a much better story than if I bottled it.
"Stealth" a ride at Thorpe Park. Soiled underwear, not pictured.
My father once told me that I had a magnet effect when it came to turds. We would walk from Ashbrooke, where he lived, to Sunderland City Centre most weekends. One time I walked into what must have been the World's Largest Dog-Shit. You know the kind that is like an egg; hard crust on the outside, broken to reveal a mass of yellow foulness. The smell alone would've been enough to floor an Rhino with no nose. If the Grim Reaper had a giant dog, it would drop shites like this. My father was annoyed, but slightly amused. Nowt funnier than an idiot walking through a big load. We headed back to his flat where my trainer was cleaned, father being less amused at this point. We walked along the same path again, now with clean feet. My father said he was watching me wander along barely paying attention when I turned slightly and managed to walk through the exact same shit-pile. Exasperated is probably the best word to describe my father's reaction, inexplicable was my seemingly never-satisfied attraction to dog's mess. Given the size of it I would be highly surprised if there was not a monument where this great turd resided:
"Here Lies The Remains of Turdosaurus. Trampled twice in a 15 minute spell by the same person".
Anyways, Mortality!
As I get older I am forced to face the fact that I will die. It's not unexpected, it's something we will all have to do eventually. It can get quite overwhelming if you give it too much attention. Your family, friends, loved ones, all will leave your life or you will leave theirs. Probably best to ignore it, eh? Well, no. Your awareness of your mortality can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Knowing that you have a deadline on your life, and you don't know when it will be, should push you to take giant fun-filled steps everyday. Trying new experiences, and reliving previous ones. It urges you to take chances, whether that be seeing the World or putting an extra chocolate bar in that milkshake you're making. Extra chocolate bars are always good. However, being aware of your mortality can also have the opposite effect; the fear that what you do may adversely affect the time you have left. We have safe lives, locks on our doors, money in our bank accounts from our safe jobs. What's the point in taking a risk for more when you are content with what you have? Suppose it depends on if you're really content or not. Are you sure your contentedness isn't just fear masking itself as something safe?
I tell myself I'm not afraid to die. How can I be afraid of something that I know is inevitable? Simply accepting this eventuality should be enough yet I find myself afraid to take risks. I enjoy my job, but it becomes increasingly unfulfilling. The wage is excellent, and I have bills to pay. I don't have a wage, I can't afford the essentials; gas/electric, the roof over my head, and Clotted Ice Cream for milkshakes. Now I'm not saying if I quit my job I will die, possibly by bursting into flames and running around a bit, but I'm not sure I would enjoy a life without the things I enjoy. Especially the milkshakes.
It's surely an age thing. I never thought about death as a young un. If I could describe myself as a child it would be that I graduated with a 1st in Daft Shite Studies from Mongington University. In my yearbook there was a picture of me under the heading "Most Likely to Shit Himself in Public". Fortunately, at least in the last few months, I've managed to avoid shitting my pants. Although I did shit someone elses. I was fearless. Regardless of how high up and unsafe the tree swing looked, I would be first one to try it. Most times I was fine. One time the rope snapped, I plummeted 15 feet down into a stream and smashed my hand onto a sharp rock. I needed stitches and almost lost the use of my thumb. Which was lucky as I would find it very useful in later life, especially when tossing off. I would spend hours on my BMX, racing at speed down large hills. You could guarantee some berk would've built a ramp at the bottom from some discarded plyboard and a couple of large bricks. I would be first to try it, again with the high likelihood of being injured. Or falling into a massive pile of dog-shit. But I didn't care. I never thought about actually breaking any bones. Thankfully the only serious injuries I ever inflicted upon my person were a dislocated elbow (trying to dance like Vanilla Ice at a disco), and breaking my nose (smashing my head through a water slide).
I'm giving this some thought as I head to Thorpe Park in a few days and I'm becoming concerned at the size and speed and likelihood of death these rides include. Never would've been a problem as a kid. I would be skipping to the front of the queue, and likely to try and free the contraption that holds you in your seat, just for a bigger thrill. But I know, now at the age of 31, that when I am actually standing in front of these gargantuan metal contraptions, I think it might be the first time in recent memory that I do shit myself.
I am getting older, we all are. On a large scale our increasing life-expectancy is already resulting in changes to our built environment. In ten years time I would like to be doing something different to what I am now, and feel a change too. Not safety or security, but happiness. Maybe fear will hold me back. Maybe it will hold us all back. But I know one thing for certain; telling a story about going on a roller coaster, full of screaming and swearing and possibly injuring someone, will make for a much better story than if I bottled it.
"Stealth" a ride at Thorpe Park. Soiled underwear, not pictured.
Sunday 15 April 2012
One "LOL" At A Time
You'll no doubt be fascinated to hear about a prototype machine gun that can fire 1.62 million bullets per minute. Think, like I did, about what that actually means. 1,620,000. That's a huge number. Every minute. It's operated by a computer, has 36 barrels, and could potentially kill everyone in the World in around 7 hours. Granted the computer was devastatingly accurate and we were all lined up to take the bullet. It seems that some people online have recognised this, and applied it to their conversational skills. I have noticed, as I'm sure you will have as well, messages from people that seemingly fire 1.62 million LOLs per minute.
Everywhere you look there's a LOL. Open your Facebook timeline and I can guarantee within 6 status updates you will find a LOL (please note this is not an actual guarantee). Apparently all of life's mundane situations can be made laughable by simply adding these 3 letters at the end. "I can't believe my I awoke to find my cat licking the open wound on my foot. LOL". "Had eggs for tea, LOL". Just got back from my father's funeral. He caught rabies from a stray cat while trekking in Venezuela, and died soon after. My mother had a heart attack when she found his lifeless body staring at her from their bed. Her funeral is next week. LOL".
I'm not sure who created "LOL", but I would like to congratulate them for creating a generation of morons. As far as I'm aware it started with text speak; young uns who were texting each other, shortening their words to keep within a 140 character limit. This makes sense, as no-one would want to be charged an extra 10p just because their sentence finished at 141 characters. But that was years ago. We now all have unlimited text plans, BBM/iPhone messenger/whatsapp, and in some cultures it's actually still prohibited to actually ring someone! Can you believe it? In this day and age we may actually have a proper conversation using our voices and that.
An example of a teenager's text message:
"I hd sx with MJ a few wks ago. now prgnnt. he lafed wn i tld hm, nd pshd me dn the strs. LOL"
Do you actually know what you're saying when you type "LOL"? Laughing out loud. If you use LOL in text speak, or messages online, I implore you to carry out a test. Start using it in real life. Actually laugh out loud like you would if you were typing it. Do you really laugh out loud at all of the mundane twatty things that happen in your life? Of course you don't. If you did you would be sectioned, condemned to a life imprisoned by 4 white walls, wearing a jacket that just looks like your arms have been permanently folded. I once knew a man whose arms were permanently folded. His name was Shit. I kid you not. Shit Bastard. Got trapped in a standy-up tanning booth, arms melted together. It made the simplest of tasks an unenviable struggle. While walking his dog, the leash he kept in between gritted teeth slipped from him and the dog ran off barking like a fucking idiot. He chased after it and ran straight in front of a moving bus, killing him instantly.
Do you want to end up like Shit Bastard? If you keep using LOL, that's exactly what will happen.
What we need is a campaign. The people need re-educating and I implore you to join the cause. If you see a LOL, stab it in the face til it can no longer laugh and turns itself into a CRY. It is your duty!
KEEP BRITAIN TIDY. ONE LOL AT A TIME.
Everywhere you look there's a LOL. Open your Facebook timeline and I can guarantee within 6 status updates you will find a LOL (please note this is not an actual guarantee). Apparently all of life's mundane situations can be made laughable by simply adding these 3 letters at the end. "I can't believe my I awoke to find my cat licking the open wound on my foot. LOL". "Had eggs for tea, LOL". Just got back from my father's funeral. He caught rabies from a stray cat while trekking in Venezuela, and died soon after. My mother had a heart attack when she found his lifeless body staring at her from their bed. Her funeral is next week. LOL".
I'm not sure who created "LOL", but I would like to congratulate them for creating a generation of morons. As far as I'm aware it started with text speak; young uns who were texting each other, shortening their words to keep within a 140 character limit. This makes sense, as no-one would want to be charged an extra 10p just because their sentence finished at 141 characters. But that was years ago. We now all have unlimited text plans, BBM/iPhone messenger/whatsapp, and in some cultures it's actually still prohibited to actually ring someone! Can you believe it? In this day and age we may actually have a proper conversation using our voices and that.
An example of a teenager's text message:
"I hd sx with MJ a few wks ago. now prgnnt. he lafed wn i tld hm, nd pshd me dn the strs. LOL"
Do you actually know what you're saying when you type "LOL"? Laughing out loud. If you use LOL in text speak, or messages online, I implore you to carry out a test. Start using it in real life. Actually laugh out loud like you would if you were typing it. Do you really laugh out loud at all of the mundane twatty things that happen in your life? Of course you don't. If you did you would be sectioned, condemned to a life imprisoned by 4 white walls, wearing a jacket that just looks like your arms have been permanently folded. I once knew a man whose arms were permanently folded. His name was Shit. I kid you not. Shit Bastard. Got trapped in a standy-up tanning booth, arms melted together. It made the simplest of tasks an unenviable struggle. While walking his dog, the leash he kept in between gritted teeth slipped from him and the dog ran off barking like a fucking idiot. He chased after it and ran straight in front of a moving bus, killing him instantly.
Do you want to end up like Shit Bastard? If you keep using LOL, that's exactly what will happen.
What we need is a campaign. The people need re-educating and I implore you to join the cause. If you see a LOL, stab it in the face til it can no longer laugh and turns itself into a CRY. It is your duty!
KEEP BRITAIN TIDY. ONE LOL AT A TIME.
Thursday 12 April 2012
Selfish? Impatient? Insecure? Why not fuck off then?
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Saturday 7 April 2012
The Girls and Alpha-Males of Gaming
I looked at a photo this morning. I, like most of you, am bombarded with a massive amount of images everyday. Photos have been around since I was born. How do I know this? My parents have photos to prove it. For all I know, the ability to produce still images may have even been around before I was born, but I don't like to think that way. I, like most of you, like to think that the World only got started when I was delivered into it. We're a self-centred bunch. Naughty, naughty us! While we have our faces thrusted into the captured moments and images of other people it's a handy tip to remember; any idiot with a camera on their smartphone can take a photo, but it takes real effort and emotion to capture a picture.
Girls who play video games are a rare breed, but not as rare as you think. I could point you in the direction of a number of different community based websites which would prove this point. Although I'm definitely comfortable with the idea that girls play video games, there are some who simply aren't equipped with the necessary social skills to handle this information. The internet has given people the opportunity to create an almost anonymous, highly exaggerated version of themselves. The majority of gaming males stay quiet in the presence of gaming females, either not noticing or not caring which gender they are associated with. I am not afraid to admit, even with my lengthy experience of girls playing video games, that my interest is piqued when a female enters an Xbox Live gaming lobby. However, I do not feel obliged to send them a message of any kind. This practice is solely the work of the "Gaming Alpha-Male".
The Alpha Male of gaming likes to view themselves as the dominant species online, regardless of their standing in real-life. In real life they might be a quiet, gentle soul, but online they are Thor! Feel their might as they vanquish your gaming skill. We are much more likely to notice an encounter with this breed than we are with a gaming girl simply because they just have to let you know about it. In a lobby full of males, he exerts his man-ship by beating you in video game battle. If he doesn't beat you, he exerts it by telling you you're a "fag", he is likely to call your playing technique (map travelling routes, weapon choices) like they way he plays is the "right" way to play, and he is likely to advise you that in the next game he is going to beat you so badly you are likely to start crying. Or so he would like to think. This repeats until which point he quits the game, usually mid-battle, with his tail tucked so far between his legs it's giving his arsehole a gentle tickle.
When an Alpha Male meets a Gaming Girl, his petty squabble with you becomes history. He is the man, and he must claim his female prize. How does he claim this? From stories told to me by female gamers, the subtle are of Alpha Male online seduction goes as follows: the Alpha Male will first fire a number of private messages to the female. They will be polite, and bland, and likely contain a winking smiley face. The dumb fucking idiot. Regardless of whether they receive a response or not, they will quickly move to something with a little more bite, a message asking for tits, or as the young uns seem to call it these days, "n00dz". Yes, the "o" is replaced with a zero. It's the act of a cretin and a cunt. Upon receiving silence once more, the Alpha Male will assume the Gaming Girl is a lesbian, taking this information public, and berating her with his finding. Now that he is sure there will be no romantic involvement (I mean, God forbid she actually just wanted to play a few games!) the exaggerated Alpha Male finds his voice. The voice of an online fool.
I looked at a photo this morning. It was of a girl who plays video games. The photo showed a pretty girl wearing a pair of glasses, with tape wrapped around the middle as if they had been broken and hap-hazardly repaired. If you had a picture dictionary and looked up "gaming girl", you would be expected to find this photo. It was annoying, to say the least. She maybe wearing the glasses in an "ironic" fashion. In which case, she doesn't know the meaning of "irony" either. The term "nerd" is changing definition. Nerds are cool now. Thanks Sheldon, you beanpole fuck! But ladies, regardless of whether you play video games or not, wearing glasses and claiming you love nerds is not endearing you to anyone. Except maybe the Gaming Alpha-Male. You want him to chase you, hit you over the head with his controller, and carry you back to his cave? That's what will happen.
The line "Thanks Sheldon..." troubles me a little. Like I am sarcastically accepting an award for a group I do not represent. I do not class myself as a stereotypical nerd. I don't think that exists anymore. While I'm a little geeky in my gaming/film/TV habits, I don't want to misrepresent myself. I am an individual, just like everyone else.
To finish, I leave you with a picture. If you're a girl taking a photo of yourself wearing a pair of large thick-rimmed glasses and claiming you're a "gamer/nerd/geek" you may think you're giving people what they want to see. You think you're sexy. All your glasses do is remind us of this...
Girls who play video games are a rare breed, but not as rare as you think. I could point you in the direction of a number of different community based websites which would prove this point. Although I'm definitely comfortable with the idea that girls play video games, there are some who simply aren't equipped with the necessary social skills to handle this information. The internet has given people the opportunity to create an almost anonymous, highly exaggerated version of themselves. The majority of gaming males stay quiet in the presence of gaming females, either not noticing or not caring which gender they are associated with. I am not afraid to admit, even with my lengthy experience of girls playing video games, that my interest is piqued when a female enters an Xbox Live gaming lobby. However, I do not feel obliged to send them a message of any kind. This practice is solely the work of the "Gaming Alpha-Male".
The Alpha Male of gaming likes to view themselves as the dominant species online, regardless of their standing in real-life. In real life they might be a quiet, gentle soul, but online they are Thor! Feel their might as they vanquish your gaming skill. We are much more likely to notice an encounter with this breed than we are with a gaming girl simply because they just have to let you know about it. In a lobby full of males, he exerts his man-ship by beating you in video game battle. If he doesn't beat you, he exerts it by telling you you're a "fag", he is likely to call your playing technique (map travelling routes, weapon choices) like they way he plays is the "right" way to play, and he is likely to advise you that in the next game he is going to beat you so badly you are likely to start crying. Or so he would like to think. This repeats until which point he quits the game, usually mid-battle, with his tail tucked so far between his legs it's giving his arsehole a gentle tickle.
When an Alpha Male meets a Gaming Girl, his petty squabble with you becomes history. He is the man, and he must claim his female prize. How does he claim this? From stories told to me by female gamers, the subtle are of Alpha Male online seduction goes as follows: the Alpha Male will first fire a number of private messages to the female. They will be polite, and bland, and likely contain a winking smiley face. The dumb fucking idiot. Regardless of whether they receive a response or not, they will quickly move to something with a little more bite, a message asking for tits, or as the young uns seem to call it these days, "n00dz". Yes, the "o" is replaced with a zero. It's the act of a cretin and a cunt. Upon receiving silence once more, the Alpha Male will assume the Gaming Girl is a lesbian, taking this information public, and berating her with his finding. Now that he is sure there will be no romantic involvement (I mean, God forbid she actually just wanted to play a few games!) the exaggerated Alpha Male finds his voice. The voice of an online fool.
I looked at a photo this morning. It was of a girl who plays video games. The photo showed a pretty girl wearing a pair of glasses, with tape wrapped around the middle as if they had been broken and hap-hazardly repaired. If you had a picture dictionary and looked up "gaming girl", you would be expected to find this photo. It was annoying, to say the least. She maybe wearing the glasses in an "ironic" fashion. In which case, she doesn't know the meaning of "irony" either. The term "nerd" is changing definition. Nerds are cool now. Thanks Sheldon, you beanpole fuck! But ladies, regardless of whether you play video games or not, wearing glasses and claiming you love nerds is not endearing you to anyone. Except maybe the Gaming Alpha-Male. You want him to chase you, hit you over the head with his controller, and carry you back to his cave? That's what will happen.
The line "Thanks Sheldon..." troubles me a little. Like I am sarcastically accepting an award for a group I do not represent. I do not class myself as a stereotypical nerd. I don't think that exists anymore. While I'm a little geeky in my gaming/film/TV habits, I don't want to misrepresent myself. I am an individual, just like everyone else.
To finish, I leave you with a picture. If you're a girl taking a photo of yourself wearing a pair of large thick-rimmed glasses and claiming you're a "gamer/nerd/geek" you may think you're giving people what they want to see. You think you're sexy. All your glasses do is remind us of this...
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