Crazy in the Headline

I work in a newsagent and see some stupid things. Here are this weeks most stupid headlines from women's magazine covers.

"Bulldog Bridesmaid" (NW)

"How To Eat Like A Hot Chick" (Cleo)

"I Created Britney's MySpace" (Dolly)

and my personal favourite

"A Crazed Roo Tried To Drown Me" (Take 5)

Bus Stop

I was sitting on a seat at my local shopping centre bus stop, wondering just how evil a person you have to be to get the job of working out uni timetables that resluts in me having to sit at my local shoping centre bus stop at this hour; and listening to Silverchair, trying to make sense of daniel johns' lyrics (i didn't).

Waking from my stupor i discovered, to my horror, that my fellow commuters had resorted to something that i couldn't have imagined, something that sickened me... they had begun queuing. 

Why queue? There's more than enough seats on the platform for everyone. Do they all have hemorrhoids? What are the chances of 15 strangers all having hemorrhoids? Is it contagious? 

This sent my mind racing. How contagious could it be? Was I in danger just sitting here or did there have to be some kind of physical contact? Even worse, was there some kind of massive disgusting all night orgy at the hotel across the road that had resulted in a bad case of 'roids for all 15 people and an awkward trip on the bus to their respective  jobs?

Or, even more sickening than that, was it some kind of display of societal cohesiveness? Did everyone decide that instead of the the usual scuffle for the front of the queue, the brawl to be the first one to hand their $3.20 to the driver, that they would all be nice stand in line and no one would get an A-frame in the groin? 

As the bus pulled up i carefully walked to the back of the line, past the nymphomaniac accountants and pensioners and, keeping a safe "i'm not with them" distance, joined the queue. 

i AM iron man

Movies change me. Not physically. In the head. I'm not talking about Clockwork Orange style neurological torture, this is regular voluntary, stale popcorn, sticky floor, cheap Tuesday, cheap thrills movie going. It's crazy i know, but there's something about isolating yourself from the outside world to stare at a wall for two hours that leaves a crazy impression.

The most recent example for me was Iron Man. Sure it's predictable: Dude invents iron suit, saves world, gets the girl, credits roll. But somewhere between the first explosion and the "no animals were harmed in this film" disclaimer I've been transformed.

I walk out of the cinema and suddenly everything's different. The short lob of my coke bottle to the bin is suddenly a grenade perfectly hitting the evil terrorist's bunker. The kids playing time crisis in the arcade are allies giving me cover as i walk to the carpark. Even my car seems to go faster as i negotiate the superfluous speed bumps. "10 km/hr! Eat my dust Westfiled."

I promise you i'm not crazy. I don't have some gun fetish. I just know that after i saw the latest 007 movie it took me 10 minutes to start the ignition because i was convinced there would be a car bomb.

Don't be concerned, i'll be ok. Just don't be surprised if you find me digging up your garden after watching Indiana Jones next week.