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Archive for the category “Irony”

True Irony Interacts With Coffee

WEEEELL, did I not have the best day ever on Monday! And I’m being sarcastic.

To clarify or perhaps begin, I love coffee. Good coffee is manna from heaven, and so much more. And even plastic-y instant gets me excited if I haven’t had caffiene in a while (read, more than eight hours).

So on Monday, I had to be at work at 6.30am and I dragged myself out of bed at 5.30am, moaning a little because, you know, even though it’s summer in this corner of the world, we’ve yet to have a full week of actual sun and warmth. And even though I’m up so damn early I don’t have coffee at home but rather at work, as I like to get there a little earlier just in case, and if there’s no case then I can finish waking up and sometimes also applying make-up and all that jazz, before the other people start come in.

I arrived at work at about 6.05am, even early for me. I made myself a mug of delicious plastic coffee and put it on the shelf of my desk reserved for my computer tower, a small safe, a bunch of wires and sometimes my knees. I settled, started up my computer, and promptly knocked over my untouched caffienated beverage.

Dear reader, it went errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrverywhere. Under the computer, under the safe, down the side of the desk, and onto the floor. I spent a good half hour mopping up, moving the PC, wiping it down, moving the safe, wiping it down – you get the idea. And instant coffee that is dried with the heat of the computer smells very gross.

I reach 1pm with little incident, until I return from my lunch break with another full cup.

A cup I actually finished

I know what you’re thinking.

No, I actually drank this one.

Til about it was about half.

I’m still not reeeeealllllly sure what happened, but I did try to catch it, in the hopes that I could get it upright again before it messed. Which totally explains why instead of flooding under the computer again, 200ml of (by now) cold coffee landed in my shoes.



True Irony is Such a Guy of a Figure

Did you know that Guy Fawkes is where the use of the word “guy” is from? Guy became used as an oddly dressed and misshapen person and eventually was adapted to its modern use. (Incidentally, “girl” used to refer to a young person of either sex.)


Guy Fawkes is painted as a hero today. He is anti-establishment. He is fighting for a cause. He’s – in a word – cool. You only have to look at appearances in modern literature and media. The popular (and a personal favourite) movie V for Vendetta, for example. 


I like this. Not just because I feel that the world would be a lot better off if most of our resources weren’t controlled by 1%. Not just because it’s an awesome movie and the 1812 by Tchaikovsky is one of my favouritist pieces of music. But Guy Fawkes is essentially a 15th century version of the Al Qaeda, and no one gives a damn. I guess the trick is to fail at being bad.


It’s really kind of funny.


Osama, you were just too good at what you did.

True Irony is Public Transport

I long to live in a country or town where reliable public transport is a reality. As someone who (continually) fails her license tests, I would really love being able to step outside and hail a cab. Not even a “taxi”, which in South Africa has decidedly… different… connotations when compared to their counterparts almost anywhere else.

I would especially love reliable public transport at five in the afternoon, when I’ve worked almost an hour and a half overtime and I wait outside for the contracted guy, who takes staff in and out, and he’s late.

And not just late but late enough so that I leave, fed up and on foot, and I only come across him half way home and half an hour later, after my boyfriend has already phoned, concerned, and made arrangements for me to be picked up by our flatmate.

And I get into my flatmate’s car and he laughs and says, “As I left home to pick you up, the song And I Will Walk 500 Miles stayed playing.”

Somedays, I hate irony.

True Irony is Family, And a Little Nostalgia

(With much love and respect guys…)

I’m visiting my family this week.

It’d be so awesome to say “I’m home for the week” but I’m not. Aside from the fact that my mum moved from her place, my childhood home, to her brother’s farm, I’ve been living on my own for close to five years. The only way I remember it’s five is because I’ve been invited to my high school class’s reunion. So it’s not reeeeally home anymore, though it is a good base to have.

I love my family, and I’ve had such a good relationship with all of them throughout my life that it’s really hard to contemplate what NOT having siblings, cousins, grandparents and so on would be like. They form a strong web below me and I’m thoroughly grateful to them for everything, through everything I’ve done.

However, they still manage to drive me nutts, and yes, that’s with two T’s, and if you get the joke then well done you.

I’ve come to realise that as the oldest of all of them – I have one brother, three first cousins here and another two overseas – I don’t really fit in anymore.

It’s so easy to tell them that I’ve been thirteen, seventeen, twenty, and that I can understand them if they need my help. But it’s too easy to become wrapped up in my newly adult life and not be in touch. Not even Facebook helps, on certain days. And slowly I become separated. And even when I visit, I’m not one of the group anymore. I have a degree, and a job, and I (mostly) pay my own way in the world, and this makes me a Grown Up and therefore Not One Of The Group. Even though I’ve not known how to handle myself my first time drinking, or have had the petty squabbles high schoolers are so fond of.

I’m not far enough away to be a novelty for everyone to hang around when I do visit, but I don’t visit often enough to be included in anything anyone does without some level of awkward and misguided conversation. (It is so bloody hard to ask a girl about her boyfriend if she’s seven years younger than you…)

I think I need to either live next door to them, or live on the other side of the country… Half an hour’s drive just doesn’t cut it…

True Irony is Adulthood

When you’re little, you dream of being big, because being big means you can do a lot more than when you’re little.

Being an adult means you can do aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanything you want to do.

And then.

Then you grow up.

You get a job.

You have a life.

And by gods, you can never do anything you want, because everyone just wants stuff from you.

True Irony is Tongue In Cheek

I do love this phrase.

According to Wikipedia writers, who – online at least – are my fact-finding heros, it began as a sign of contempt. To literally poke your tongue into your cheek was quite obviously an expression of disgust. (This does puzzle me a bit. Perhaps rather people stuck their tongues OUT and it was just referred to as in their cheeks? Meh.)

Over time, as language often does, it’s turned into a lovely witty phrase. Someone who is tongue in cheek, or has a tongue in cheek view of things is often quite funny, slightly cynical, and more often than not, a little bit wistful inside. And more often than not, quite intelligent too, and extraordinarily aware of themselves.

Case in point:

A group of about five people met to discuss simplicity and its meaning. They’ve all been asked to bring along something that symbolises simplicity, or could be used to illustrate simplicity. Now, in the context, everyone is well aware that the intention is to move towards the simple life. Lack of complication, et cetera.

Our heroine is equally aware of this, but being the kind of person she is, she brings along a few items:

A quote from Einstein:

Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.

A description of Captain Carrot from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld:

People think of Carrot as being simple, however their mistake is in confusing “simple” with “stupid”.

And a picture:

These things are rather across the board as far as similarity goes, and she recognised that, with the additional awareness that simplicity is both good and bad.

This display of thought was described to another as “tongue in cheek”.

But in case you haven’t noticed,

tongue in cheek

is pure

irony in motion.

True Irony is Sometimes Hurtful

I saw a really fat guy on a bike today.


He’d tied a red flag to the seat bar.


I don’t like to comment on things like this, because it is hurtful and unthinking, but I thought the red flag was hilarious.


He wasn't this fat though.

True Irony is Introduction

Wikipedia defines irony as “rhetorical device, literary technique, or situation in which there is a sharp incongruity or discordance that goes beyond the simple and evident intention of words or actions.”


I define it as an awesome word that is sadly over-used, and hardly ever used correctly.


In fact, I Googled it and amongst other things was presented with a song which lists many situations, none of which I find that ironic. This is obviously, what with the advent of hipsters, means someone needs to educate people, and being a busy-body with lots of useless time in front of a computer, then of course I took it upon myself to be that someone.


True Irony is talking about being ironic.


True Irony is talking about removing language.


True Irony is a glance into the inner workings of what it means to be a social species.


True Irony is philosophical, artistic and funny.


True Irony.






(Only a little bit.)


ps – In my Googling, I came upon this picture. It was on a post about irony by Rachel from More irony? Oh my…

pps (Edit) – True Irony is also about psyching up a mate to confess to something, only to find out the someone he’s confessing to has done the same something…

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