My World Problems

My girlfriend broke up with me, and I'm sad. FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!
I got a brain freeze from drinking my slurpee too fast. FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!
I got all snug in bed, only to realise I hadn't turned my light off. FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!
My dog is too fat. FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!

The Three Worlds Theory. I'm not positive, but I am pretty sure Einstein came up with this particular theory because he liked to make up theories about things, like relativity, gravity, and dinosaurs. It was devised as a means of determining a country's politico-economic status during the Cold War, and was, obviously, split into three separate categories, or worlds. The world is in a bit different shape now than what it what during the Cold War, so the term is now more loosely used as a means of determining a country's socioeconomic development. This is generally determined by the Human Development Index, a composite statistic of life expectancy, education and income. I'm sure you're wondering I am bothering to tell you all this. Well I'll tell you why.

I live in the first world. My country is developed. Does that make me immune to having physical, personal, psychological, or just downright silly problems? No, of course not. So would you people please SHUT THE HELL UP WITH THE PHRASE "FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS"! It's just ridiculous. So what if I live in a developed country? I am allowed to exhibit frustration, anger, sadness or remorse at the trials and tribulations I encounter in my day-to-day life, just as I would expect anybody else to.
Yes, the problems I have may seem insignificant compared to someone half way around the world living in poverty. But that is not my fault, nor is it overly relevant to my life anyway. I can't control other peoples lives, nor can I ultimately help the entire world to live better ones. I do what I do,

There is a see-sawing balance of poverty that the world must endure in order for resources to not be exhausted anyway. Not everyone can live a life of luxury. Sure, it is easy for me to say that as I am living in a life of relative luxury, but I'm doubtful anyone else would be willing to fart away their life simply as a means of proving a point. And that is okay too. The way I see it, if you aren't looking after yourself to the best of your ability, you have you priorities wrong. Being self-centered is not a crime. It's natural. And if you live in a first world country, so be it. It is flat out the luck of the draw, and you simply have to make the best of what you are handed.

So in summation, I HATE SAUERKRAUT! It tastes funny. Also, first world problems? Go away. I don't expect you to care about my issues, but don't try and compare them to the third world. I am not. But that doesn't mean I can't have them.

xoxo Kim Jim-Rhys

Domin8 and Celebr8.

Eight years in a row. Well done lads. QUEENSLANDER!

Hello and welcome to the War for another week.

Let me tell you something. Let me give you a little secret, okay? The customer is always an asshole!

Ahh customers. Every day, every week. They continue to amaze me with their stubborn stupidity and general ignorance of the general operation of food stores. I have been on rants before about the sneaky ways customers will try to rip off my place of work (The Crepe Cafe, to those who were wondering), but man, today was just.. bad. Yes, I may be a representative of Crepe Cafe, but I am still a human being with feelings and emotions, so insulting me repeatedly over various aspects of my work is just a shit act.

So... where to begin? Today, two women aged around 476 approached my work looking to order from the breakfast menu. Asking whether breakfast was still available, I turned to look at the clock, which read 11:01. As breakfast finishes at 11, I figured it would be non-issue, as I am just a tip top bloody bloke. Cue about a five minute period as these two crones mumbled amongst themselves, complaining about the size of the menu, the items on the breakfast menu, and whatever else came across their tiny minds. Finally, the first one looked up, declared she wanted a herb and cheese omelette and coffee, and turned to her friend, expectantly. Cue another two minute period as the second bat decided what she wanted. After contemplating pretty much the entirety of the menu she finally decided that she wanted an Aussie Breakfast crepe and coffee. Instead of taking the sensible option of telling me beforehand that they wanted to pay separately, they tell me after I put through the order, and boy, watching them screw up their faces in confusion as I explained to them how much each separate meal cost was hilarious. I'm pretty sure they figured they were somehow being ripped off, but I didn't care, because my fullsickgenius mind knew it was right. Annnyway, after that mess, I passed them on the buzzer our store uses in order to track orders. The second lady, however, just pushes it away, declaring that she expects me to bring her meal to her. Figuring we weren't overly busy at the time, I agreed to this, because once again, I am a tip top bloody bloke. 

So, so far, so good. I mean, these customers fall into the range of very annoying. They've taken up a lot of my time, whilst being rude about it, but I am coping. So, I make their order, and walk out to the table where they were sitting. Nothing said, no thank you, but whatever. I wander back to our store. About a minute later, however, once again the second lady comes up to say something.

"I'm not happy with my order," she said.
"Why might that be?" I ask.
"It''s wrong."

Having taken the order, and then making it, I knew she was mistaken, so I queried her as to how it was wrong. 
"There is no bacon," she says. 
Once again, knowing that I HAD made the crepe with bacon, I inform her that her meal does indeed have bacon in it, however I cannot confirm this to her, as she has not brought it back for me to show. She says there is no way it has bacon, and proceeds to look at the menu, before randomly stating, "I did not order a herb and cheese omelette". 
"I know," I responded, "your friend did. There is an omelette and a crepe over there". 

Again, she bends down over the menu, and points at an item.

"This says there is smoked salmon and spinach."
Looking on in bewilderment, I answer, "Yes, it indeed does, however you did not order that. You ordered an Aussie Breakfast," pointing at the menu item.
"Yes, that's right," she replies, before flatly stating "It is just an egg thrown on a crepe and then folded up. I can make that at home for a dollar".
Wonderful, I thought to myself, go do that. 
"I can assure you, that is how that crepe is made. I have been working here for seven years, so I am definitively making it right," I finally responded with. 

Now this is when the old shit decided to make it personal.
"I am astounded that this store has managed to remain open for seven years when you have workers such as yourself here. You have no work ethic, and no sense of presentation to your meals. This is absolutely disgusting. I refuse to buy from here ever again, especially with someone as rude as you here."
"If that is your choice," I calmly responded.
She turned to leave, hesitated, then turned back.
"I want two slices of toast for free," she demanded.
Taken aback, and increasingly angry, I refused.
"No, you cannot. I am not authorised to give you free food simply because you don't like the look of your first."
"I want to talk to whoever is in charge then. I want some compensation."

Ushering over the manager, I retreated to the back of the store, and observed from afar. Upon the conclusion of the calamity, I learned that she finally demanded a refund, and the manager obliged, because holy shit, piss off Grandma. In doing so, she returned the crepe to the store, because like, we wanted to eat it or something. The following image is what was returned to us (taken after we threw it on top of the bin):



Where is the bacon you ask? INSIDE THE CREPE, YOU STUPID IDIOT! She had not even opened the crepe to possible see the bacon wrapped inside it! In that instant, all my thoughts and suspicions of this woman having a serious lack of brain functionality were confirmed. And furthermore, I later spied her eating a McDonald's meal. McDonald's. I'm sorry, but you complain about our presentation, and then go eat from bloody McDonald's? Did they give you the 5-star presentation our food was sorely lacking? Of course not. Because McDonald's are a fast food store with similar time constraints on the making of their food as Crepe Cafe. And also it's McDonald's. 

If this was an isolated incident, I could probably cope. I mean, I certainly have some lovely customers at work. But man, it's always the worst ones you remember. One old lady whistled at me (seriously) and gestured me over to her table one day to yell at me that her strawberries weren't up to her standards as they were not freshly picked. What? We're not a farm! We don't grow our strawberries on site. I'm sorry your strawberries aren't covered it dirt, and they are probably brown because they have chocolate on them! And ignorant customers who leave their trolleys or prams or segways or whatever in front of our exit, piss off. I want to leave this place at some point. Pretending you don't see me struggling to get out the door, and then getting angry at me when I simply bash my way out, is a dick move. Also, the bell at the front counter reads "Ring if unattended", not "Please let your children bash the shit out of this for a solid minute because, hey, the staff will love that". If you can't control your degenerate bean bags, don't take them out. That simple.

If you think I hate working in customer service, you're right. It sucks. So instead you lovely folk should come visit me from time to time. My co-workers often ignore me and merely speak around me in Mandarin. It's a lonely Crepe life sometimes...

Xoxo Burnt Crepe Man

P.S. To my nemesis Old Lady, I leave you with the following messages:

One in a Milan

I have this friend. He is a great guy. His name is Milan. He makes movies. I like movies. I like Milan. Match made in heaven.



This is Milan. As you can see, Milan is a sexy man. His beautiful skin tone. The unshaven yet ruggedly handsome look. The jeans and sneakers. The casual pose beside the camera. The beach in the background. The adorable quizzical look on his face. Everything. Great photo. Love you Milan.

White men CAN jump... but they shouldn't.

It doesn't matter if you're black or white - Michael Johnson

That above quote by the famous basketballer is a hoax. It does matter if you are black or white! For starters, it matters on your ability to pull off certain fashion trends. I aim these criticisms solely at the male populace, as I am sure I have whined enough about ladies for the past month to let them go for a week or two. You see, African Americans are cool. The following video proves that.

The problem is, every teenage white boy likes to think they are cool also. This results in an often hilarious mish-mash of white boys wearing fashion trends obviously designed for black males, that just do not work and fail on so many levels. Skin tones make a HUGE difference in one's ability to wear certain types of clothing and accessories. For starters, earrings. Specifically, diamond earrings. I understand they scream "Hey look at me, I'm classy and rich, because my earrings are made of diamond". Except when they don't. Do you expect me to believe some 18 year old dweeb can seriously afford genuine diamond earrings? No. Your cubic zirconia earrings just look silly. Let us compare the following two images. First, we have the badass Kevin Garnett, the now sadly former Boston Celtic forward/centre rocking the diamond earrings:

Next we have teenage pop sensation (?) Justin Bieber, trying his best to convince us he has a penis (and failing):

Try and tell me that Justin looks anywhere near as cool as Kevin, and then go wash your mouth out with soap. He looks ridiculous. All Usher's coddling of the boy may have convinced him he is indeed African American, but that does not make him black, but unfortunately DOES makes him look ridiculous. He looks like a typical cheap wannabe (I'm sure his earrings are genuine diamonds, mind) trying desperately to cling onto a fashion trend he can't pull off.

Another thing that white guys fail to pull off is white suits. It just doesn't look right. The double dip of white material on white skin just makes you look luminescent, whereas the great contrast of a white suit on black skin looks classy and stands out. Contrasting colours looks excellent. It's the same reason people get so maligned for wearing double denim. It looks stupid if everything is the same colour! A white guy just looks showy. No one likes a showy person. Compare the following examples:

and:

The first is basketballing legend Shaquille O'Neal. Need I say more? The second is of actor Matt Bomer. I like Matt Bomer. He is a ridiculously good looking man, and a decent actor. Yet donning the white suit? He looks like a member of Backstreet Boys. Compare that to the below image.

Ahh, much better. Looking classy Matt! 

White men are also pretty bad rappers. Sure, Eminem was once on top of the rapping world. But it isn't 2003 anymore, and Eminem is no longer releasing top rap tunes like "Lose Yourself". Have you heard his stuff recently? That windowpane gag in "Love the Way You Lie" was absolutely cringe worthy. Instead we get ghastly "rappers" like 360 who blow chunks and embarrass the whole of Australia on a worldwide stage. Good job numbnuts. Australia takes enough humiliation from our cricket team without you adding to it!

Look, I'm not making a blanket statement that NO white guy ever managed to make these examples work. I'm just saying that the vast majority of them look and act ridiculous. There are more examples I can think of (hairline tracks, cornrows, pimping) that I won't go into, because I think you get my point. 

Xoxo angry teen girl

P.S. Sorry to any person I may have offended with my Michael Jackson/Johnson/Jordan joke at the start. I thought it was funny that there are so many Michael J's!

P.P.S. Look at this other photo of Justin Bieber. Doesn't he look like your grandmother?