On the Art of International Flirting

In keeping with the theme of loooove set by my esteemed colleague Agent T’s last article, I thought I’d take the time to talk a little about holiday romance. You’d be amazed how different dating (or more *ahem* casual relationships) can be in different countries. Fo’ serious. If you don’t know the local etiquette, dating in a foreign country can be like rocking up to a tennis match with full grid iron padding and AN AXE or something and wondering why everyone’s looking at you funny.

For the young, whimsical lovers of wordpress.com we here at the Teapot Army have faced the dangers of the international dating scene and compiled some experiences of our own and that of our more well-travelled friends to educate our readers on dating decorum and flirting faux pas to look out for when traversing the globe.

So if you’re lookin’ for some lovin’ on your journey, here’s what to expect:

America: Americans are loud and full of themselves but have that dashing kind of charm you can’t get anywhere else in the world. American dating is all about the coffee. “Hey, do you want to get coffee sometime?” “Do you what to come up for a cup of coffee?” Seriously, what the fuck. It’s like having sex is so taboo here you need to use code words in case someone else is listening in. It’s little wonder the rest of the world (read: Europe lol) seems promiscuous in comparison when in the US you’re expected to have a pretence just for going out with someone, let alone getting them in the sack. Also, I once got hit on by my cousin in Texas. I wish I was kidding.

Cambodia: See that gorgeous girl at the bar with the come-hither look who wants you to buy her a drink? Yeah, let me vouch right now for the fact that once you sit down beside her, she’s gotten you wasted and offered to sell you a bag of weed which looks like it’s been mixed with dirt for the meagre price of hard US currency, your expensive camera and your passport, she somehow doesn’t seem so attractive. Especially when you find the next morning that you needed those things to, you know, live. Awesome place, but suffice to say if you’re going out at night it might be best to take some buddies with you. Having a wingman looking out for your best interests is never going to be a bad thing.

Canada: Snow + blankets + someone warm to snuggle up to? I’ll let you be the judge of that, eh?

France: These guys aren’t shy. If you’re female and aren’t a leper you’re pretty much prime meat for 30–40 year old men looking to woo almost anything that moves. Guys will bend over backwards for the chance to enjoy the company of a pretty girl, so if you’re wearing a skirt and looking for a good time (or a free meal), the City of Love is the place for you. If you’re likely to be taken aback by gleeful invasions of your personal space by creepy old men, however, I should warn you that it’s entirely possible you’ll have to pry a few hopefuls off your face in the middle of the street. Be prepared for intimate relations with strangers who’ll wine and dine you then take you back to their place for fondue with three cheeses and wild passionate sex. Unnerving though it can be if you’re more on the conservative side, it’s all good-natured and if you’re not looking to “go all the way” you’ll generally get nothing more than a rueful grin and an “I’ll come back tomorrow night then!” from your consort when you wish them goodnight (at which point I advise you to lie about which hotel you’re staying in).

India: If you’ve ever seen a Bollywood movie you’ll know that PDA’s (that is, Public Displays of Affection) are off limits. Looking to make out on a street corner, a park bench or in the back of the bar? You’d better hope there’s both a celebrant and a doctor nearby, because you’ll need the former before you do so, and the latter for afterwards. While this may seem bizarre to your average Frenchman, it’s actually a great place to have good, innocent, flirtatious fun.

Norway: One word: moonshine. It’s the stuff of VIKINGS. I swear to god they drink it mixed with the strongest, bitterest coffee you’ve ever tasted mixed at like a 50/50 ratio, so by the time you’ve finished a good few of these you’re willing to go home with the first sexily-accented member of the appropriate gender you lay eyes upon.

And that’s just six to start you off; there are a whooole lot more countries out there just waiting for you to sleep ar- I mean visit and share in their culture. Watch your step, because in this big new world of international / internet-connected / global village bullshit dating, you never know what you’ll put your foot into without realising.

If He Lived In Korea, He’d Have a Lot More to Worry About

Hello there, ladies and gents. We interrupt your regularly scheduled internet surfing to talk to you about a subject that affects each and every one of us. From that big scary acne-covered badass that used to kick over your sandcastles at the beach, to that one kid back in preschool who never could seem to get the skid marks out of his pants. That’s right, ever so humble internet reader, I am going to rant on about fears.

Now that we’ve already ascertained that everyone has fears, let’s talk a little about the different types of fears people have. Now fears come in all shapes, sizes, intensities and bra sizes (if you don’t believe me, ask a prepubescent boy who’s working up the courage to ask a girl to the dance for the first time). However, it is my personal belief that almost all fears can be broken down into one of three
categories.

A) Rational Fears
B) Legitimate Fears
C) Crazy-ass whack-job fears.

“But oh, wise Teapot Army, ye who allows me to kill five minutes every Monday and Thursday and occasionally on other days when the whim strikes you, how can I possibly tell the difference between these types of fears?” you are most likely asking. Well, luckily for both you and I, the internet allows me to be as anonymous as a myspace hacker, so I shall use myself as a quick example of certain types of fears I believe fall into these distinct categories.

We shall cover rational fears first, as surprisingly these are the fears that we usually try to avoid letting people know about. For my own example, my mother suffers from a condition that certain Spanish specialists refer to as being un loco bitch. And of course, such a wonderful condition is hereditary but since the specialists in this field are little more than glorified pill-pushers, I was basically told, “Eh… you seem alright, I guess. Probably, oh I don’t know, 50/50 chance you got it? Whatever, don’t worry about it unless you feel like killing yourself. You might want to call me if that pops up, just as long as it isn’t on the weekend.”

Is worrying about one’s sanity rational? Probably not for most people but I like to think I have a good excuse for labeling this into such a category. Other rational fears I would include in the list would be such things as Superman being afraid of kryptonite, most people’s unwillingness to see how deep their thumb can go into a crocodile’s bunghole and similar worries.

Let us move on to legitimate fears. Now these are fears that are perhaps a little bit irrational but you have a reason behind them. I also put certain fears in this category that aren’t perhaps life-threatening but still annoying as hell. Do you want some examples, oh faithful internet reader? Of course you do and luckily for you, I have two.

One such legitimate fear I have is regarding my car, which my friends and I affectionately term “The Crimson Deathtrap.” Mostly because I’ve only had it for less than a year and the goddamn thing has nearly killed me not once but twice! The first time badly enough for me to require a short hospital stay, though some would argue this was due to my own stupidity combined with the car. Anyway, long story short, whenever my car makes any sort of funny noise, whether it be a hum, a click or a loud pop followed by grating and the whump that comes from diving deep into a snow bank, I am convinced that I am most likely going to die immediately afterwards in a fireball of epic proportions. Needless to say, driving is a rather adrenaline-pumping experience for me.

The other fear I am going to mention is certainly just as rational (translation = not very) as the other fear in my legitimate category, however to me it is far more serious because it has happened several times before. I’m sure at least some of you have been there. It’s been a long week at work, you have a party to go to on Friday night and then you look forward to nothing more but being able to vegetate in your apartment with a case of beer, a pack of smokes (and for some of you perhaps) a nice, jolly bag of some sort of illegal substance or other. You make an appearance at the party, enjoy yourself for a bit and then head home. Only to wake up the next morning, with a case of beer and a pack of smokes, but neither lighter nor bottle opener. Have you ever tried to light a cigarette from an electric outlet? Not as easy as those career criminals make it look, trust me.

Lastly we have our crazy-ass whack job fears. Oh, you have them, I guarantee it. Afraid of spiders? Guess what, bitch, your twenty bazillion times bigger than it is, get over it (or for the love of God tell me how to get over it). That’s a rather crazy fear. But I’m sure if you dig deep you’ll find fears that surprise you with just how absolutely crazy they are. Want to hear mine? Of course you do, that’s why you’re still reading, isn’t it? Well, here it is:

A Pillsbury Dough Boy Action Figure (not doll, never doll!) built with Terminator technology. I shit you not, ladies and gentleman, the very idea absolutely fucking terrifies me and if you’d been in that urine-soaked bed being chased by a two foot tall monster with glowing eyes every time you closed your eyes when you were five years old, let me tell ya, you fucking would be too.

Now I know these rants normally end with a witty way of tying the whole subject together, perhaps amaze you with some intriguing wordplay or something like that, but I will not stoop to such tricks, oh readers. Instead I will tell you, if you ever even think one of your friends is considering building a Pillsbury Dough Boy Robotic Action Figure with Terminator Kung-Fu grip, you slaughter that son of a bitch right then and there. It might not be considered rational at the time but the people of the future will hail you as their Messiah.

~ Guest Article written by Agent 22
If you have any comments or questions for this guest author, please email us at teapotarmy@gmail.com and all questions or comments will be forwarded on. If you are interested in submitting your own piece, email us about that as well!

Loving You Is Like Stabbing Myself In the Eye – And Liking It

So, I’m going to share a deep dark secret of mine that not even most of my friends know – I have terrible taste in music. By terrible taste in music, I mean that I will listen to just about anything and still enjoy it. Well, minus hardcore metal and old country, but that’s an entirely different subject.

I live in a city where just about every other person on the street is into “indie” and obscure bands that have played one show in a cave somewhere, but who are still “genius”. In truth, my problem is that I’m lazy and I don’t feel like going to seek out spectacular music. I love music, and I really couldn’t live without it, but I’m the type that’s willing to settle. I’m ok with liking a band that people know the name of. It’s cool. This doesn’t actually stop me from carefully shielding my ipod screen on the bus though.

But one genre of music that I feel particularly guilty about – guilty enough to hide it from my family and friends – has to be that expansive arena called … The Love Song. Yep, love songs. Open Arms, I Will Always Love You, Kiss Me…all of it. Corny phrases like “…Your kisses are so wonderful/My love, you always will be…” and “Wise men say, ‘Only fools rush in’…But I can’t help falling in love with you…” do not bother me. In fact, I relish them.

But honestly, I’m starting to wonder a little bit about the future of the love song. Most of the songs in the last few years range just from lukewarm love to “Well, I sort of like you, I guess,” but there are some…that are just plain creepy. Masochism, soul stealing…well, let’s just go straight to the examples. (You know, the ones I picked and took out of context to support my point).

1. Ryan Cabrera – True

I won’t talk,
I won’t breath,
I won’t move till you finally see
that you belong with me.

So this song is on the milder side; there are no threats of death or violence. Rather, he’s basically just saying he’s going to throw a tantrum at you until you agree to date him. Look closely at the lyrics, and they read instead, “I’m going to give you the silent treatment and I’m going to HOLD MY BREATH until you agree to go out with me. Seriously, do you want to be responsible for having killed a man? Do you? What? Don’t believe me? Ok, here I go—“

Someone should tell him you can’t kill yourself by just holding your breath. Oh well.

2. Leona Lewis – Bleeding Love

Oh they find it hard to believe
I’ll be wearing these scars
For everyone to see

But I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love

Uh, ok. This was apparently the number one most requested song of the day today, which kind of confuses me. I’m not sure if I’m alone in this, but this sounds like the national anthem of domestic violence. In my mind, I see women sitting by the radio stroking their new bruises, smiling just a little bit. I see some guy out in the woods with a refrigerator full of bodies calling in, “Ah, hey thar, I wuz hopin to herr sumthin to git me an’a girls in tha raight kinda mood. Hows bout dat one song, bout the gir’ whos’a bleedin an’all dat?”

That last part might just be me. I saw The Strangers last weekend, remember.

3. Jesse McCartney – Beautiful Soul

I don’t want another pretty face,
I don’t want just anyone to hold,
I don’t want my love to go to waste,
I want you and your beautiful soul.
You’re the one I want to chase,
you’re the one I want to hold.
I won’t let another minute go to waste,
I want you and your beautiful soul.

Now, I’m not really sure what your first thoughts were upon actually reading those lyrics, but here were mine:

Can you say C-R-E-E-P-Y?

The first song’s lyrics just come off as kind of desperate and sad, but the second one…you…want my beautiful soul? Wait, what?

I’m not sure about you guys, but I’m pretty sure the only times I’d be willing to give up my soul to anyone would be to save myself from eternal damnation in hell for skipping out on the tip at that one restaurant, or possibly to the ice cream truck guy if it’s a really hot day, and really only if there aren’t any ATMs around.

4. Finger Eleven – Paralyzer

I hold on so nervously
To me and my drink
I wish it was cooling me
But so far, has not been good
It’s been shitty
And I feel awkward, as I should
This club has got to be
The most pretentious thing
Since I thought you and me
Well I am imagining
A dark lit place
Or your place or my place

Ok, so I realize this isn’t a love song, but it’s close enough. I’m including it because the lyrics fucking piss me off. If you hate the place, don’t GO THERE DIPSHIT.

I’m not sure I like where our love songs are heading, honestly. It seems like almost all of the songs I see on tv lately have to do with breaking up, and moving on, or some sort of yearning, one sided and unrequited love song. And then there’s that whole other genre of bitches and hos, but I’m not going to count those as love songs. You can’t make me.

I don’t know, I guess what I’m wondering is: Is this reflecting on changes in our own culture? Are we becoming more desperate? Sad? Cold? More idealistic? Less idealistic? More importantly, is this a bad reflection on ME, as a member of this generation?

Our generation is so focused on instant gratification, people get divorces and break up and have huge fights at the drop of a hat. In addition to that, we have on the other side the lonely and completely hopeless idiots that love the idea of love so much, they can’t get it together enough to actually do anything about it other than pine away in the depths of their room, only to post those god damn “Nice Guys Finish Last” articles and poems when they get rejected. I guess I just can’t understand the appeal of these songs for anyone other than people who have recently been rejected, or had their heart broken in some way.

I think there’s a good chance I’m just getting irritated because I hate Jesse McCartney, but I could be wrong. I can tell that I’m going to have to listen to some music to blow off all this steam.

…God dammit, ok, maybe not.

Conflict Resolution Made Easy

So, I’ve worked with / lived with / associated with my fair share of inconsiderate idiots over the years. You know the type – the date who stands you up, the guest who doesn’t wipe his feet at the door, the neighbour who blocks your driveway, the roommate who hasn’t cottoned on to the fact that his mother isn’t around to pick his shit up off the floor anymore… But after having worked in a professional corporate environment for some time now, I’d unpretentiously assumed all that was long behind me.

Oho. No.

I have a coffee pot on my desk, right – one of those cute little ones just big enough for one; you put your ground coffee in with boiling water and let it brew, then push the plunger down to filter it and BAM, un magnifique café! It’s fucking shiny. It sparkles when I clean it. It’s like the pride and joy of my desk, and no less than FIVE times in the last couple of weeks I have arrived at work to find that not only has someone taken it off my desk to use it without asking, they have returned it SULLIED and UNCLEAN. Wtf!

Now let’s face it, using a coffee pot without permission isn’t really going to cause the apocalypse, but… putting it back without washing it? Are you kidding? Are we in kindergarten? There was water in the bottom and used coffee mess stuck in the filter! They hadn’t so much as bothered to rinse it out! AND they’d left coffee stains beside my keyboard, so not only had our sinister culprit committed these unspeakable crimes, they’d done so mockingly, sitting in MY chair at MY desk!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m generally pretty laid back and I couldn’t care less that someone used it; I just find the whole situation hilarious and bizarre. These are grown adults, working in a large corporate office. What were they thinking? “Oh shit, stupid fucker left personal belongings on their private desk. Ha! I’LL TEACH THEM A LESSON THEY’LL NEVER FORGET!” Gawd. The icing on the cake is that I actually know who’s doing it, and they don’t even smile at me in the elevator.

Now, we’ve arrived at the part of the article where after another line or two of witty repartee I could use the above experience to illustrate a broader view or issue pertaining to the state of the world today, i.e. “Whatever happened to common decency?” or “Why the fuck is it illegal to shoot co-workers, anyway?” …but I am having way too much fun with this. Like, who does this? Seriously. Yes, our story is only half finished, my friends – we have a conflict here which clearly needs to be resolved. So instead of being a good little writer and sitting down to my conclusion, THIS REPORTER took to the streets and asked a range of friends, co-workers and e-buddies:

What would you do in my situation?
Here are some suggestions I got:

#5 – “Hide the coffee pot in the drawer.”
A practical suggestion, to be sure, but lacking in attitude and creativity. No, this is the COWARD’S way out, my friends. And what would you do if they took it OUT of the drawer to use it again? Awwwkward.

#4 – “Confront them about their vile monopoly of your possessions!”
Another valid suggestion; it’s got the conflict resolution covered, but you’d have to be a pretty massive snob to follow through on it. What’re you gonna do, walk up to them and say “Excuse me, but I believe you’ve been using my coffee pot! Your behaviour is illegal and unwanted, and I demand you cease and desist immediately!” Yeah, not gonna happen. Way to act like the biggest geek in high school science, chump.

#3 – “Leave coffee shit in it overnight for them to find in the morning.”
It’s crafty, I’ll pay that. I’m liking the “Give them a taste of their own medicine” angle. At the same time though, I’m dubious as to whether or not it’s going to jolt them into seeing the error of their ways. Twenty bucks says you’ll only have to wash it twice as often.

#2 – “Take their stuff =|”
I like this, it’s got style, it’s got panache. It would probably be the most satisfying feeling on the planet to walk up to the bastard’s desk, ignore them completely, walk off with their mug and come back a half hour later finishing off some raspberry cordial or something in it. Spill a bit on their desk as you put it back down, kinda notice and go “Oh,” but then leave it there anyway. You know. Maybe smile and strike up conversation with the girl sitting opposite. Unfortunately, you’d also look like a pretty gigantic asshole.

#1 – “Leave a post-it note on the coffee pot.”
Now, don’t be fooled – this one struck me as bland and uninventive at first glance… until I got thinking about what the note could SAY. I mean, really, the world is your oyster. You could be polite and just write something asking them nicely not to use it. The phrase “I have Hepatitis” could also play well. At the end of the day though, I’d really just love to see the expression on their face when they walked up and read “If you use it, please be considerate and wash it when you’re done or you are going to get fucking cup-smashed across the face with it. Love M xxx”

So. Any other suggestions?

The Strangers

Horror Movie Humor Episode 2
Shitting Ourselves So You Don’t Have To

So this week we have a relatively recent movie. Honestly, I was going to save the episode 2 of this until a few weeks down the road, but since this is THE NOW, THE HAPPENIN’, THE …whatever, I figured we’d better do this.

So without anymore bullshit to fill up the intro:

The Strangers

The movie starts out with an ominous disclaimer that the following is based on a true story. True as in “not really”, but still, there are 1.4 million violent crimes each year! What they fail to tell you is this: violent crime includes more than just murder. There are four parts, actually: murder and non negligent manslaughter, forcible rape, robbery, and aggravated assault. According to the FBI, only 1.2 percent of that is murder. And the rate per 100,000 inhabitants is roughly 475, just a rough .4%. And furthermore, you are more likely to be killed by your mom for taking a bath at 3am than by Charles Manson. Who, by the way, seems to be the partial inspiration for the story. The Manson murders, the mysterious Keddie murders, and the director’s own brief contact with a would-be robber. These are actually pretty fascinating cases, and you should go read about them. But yeah, that’s …it. That’s the “truth” behind the stories.

So basically, that first statement is full of shit. Yeah.

There’s the usual hysterical 911 phone call, and then a shot of…a house. A street. A neighborhood. More houses. A house. A house. A house. It keeps doing that artsy “flash on and off”, as though you’re passing several houses from inside of a car. You know, if you were sort of retarded and hadn’t quite figured out the correct way to blink yet.

We meet our two unfortunate victims, James and Kristen. They had some sort of fight, and they are thoroughly upset. Blah blah boring fucking back story that won’t matter when they’re getting axed, etc. James proposed, Kristen was like “Aw heeell naw, I’m too hot to get married already =/” and now they are upset. Boohoo. The friend I was watching this with probably said it best.

“Shut the fuck up and start getting killed already, jesus.”

They seriously keep this going for like the first 20 minutes. BORING.

Then the killers start showing up, and you find yourself almost wishing they’d go back to talking about their feelings. Nothing makes sense. A mysterious girl on their doorstep (who happens to be a model irl), Kristen needs cigarettes so James goes to get her some, and all fucking hell breaks lose. One of the killers manages to get in somehow, silently, undetected (she left the front door unlocked because she’s an idiot), and just…watches her. And she never notices THE BURNING GAZE, and he just sort of disappears. Where he goes? I have no idea.

The thing is, this particular killer seriously wheezes like Darth Vader, so I have no idea how he can be stealthy one moment, and then loud as hell the next. Is he hiding in the house? No? He leaves? Well, she definitely locks the door, so how the fuck do the people just keep drifting in and out? Are they ghosts?Wait, but then they start breaking the door down? With an AXE? Are we going to see Leatherface at some point?

The entire movie is just one really long KNOCK, it seems. There is constant knocking/banging on the door, and then when they get in the house, THERE’S STILL MORE FUCKING KNOCKING FROM SOMEWHERE. From the windows, from the doors…seriously, cut it out. If you’re going to kill someone, at least be less obnoxious about it.

And then there’s the typical horror movie problems that aren’t confined to just this movie. There’s a part where THE PHONE CUTS OUT, HOLY SHIT, but Kristen has a cell phone. But wait, it’s dead. Oh, she’s got a charger. …And she plugs it in to charge, the end. The movie is supposed to take place in 2005; you know, you CAN talk on a charging cell phone. …Well, whatever. Then there’s the whole “pick the WORST fucking weapon in the house” deal. There’s a fireplace, grab a fucking poker. Heat up the end. Stick ‘em. Don’t go down without a fight at least. They even have a GUN for a part of the movie. You know what you do? Grab the gun, grab the firepoker/knife/whatever else, and BARRICADE YOURSELF IN THE BATHROOM. No windows, only one way to get in or out. You just have to keep reloading and shoot. While reloading, stab them with the poker, or the knife. There are 2 of you against 3 of them. You SHOULD be able to take them. (And besides, the one guy is wheezing and out of shape, and the other two are girls. One of the girls is a model. Throw some food at her or something, scare her off!)

But of course, they fail. Their friend comes to save them, and they end up shooting him in the face. And after doing that, they leave their cozy hiding place out of despair. In short, the two main characters are fucking retarded.

Note that no one actually DIES until about the last 30 minutes of the movie.

The end is amazingly anticlimactic as well. There’s a whole lotta screaming and running, and finally, they get tied up and stabbed to death. When Kristen tearfully asks “Why are you doing this to us?”, the answer we get is hardly satisfactory.

“Because you were home.”

Chilling, to a certain degree, yes. Until you remember that here in the REAL world, people with silly, half-ass motives like that end up shooting accomplices by accident.

At the VERY end, there’s a cheap shock where Liv Tyler suddenly jumps at the little boy who just wanted to check her pulse, screaming her head off. What. The. Fuck.

I have no idea what that ending was supposed to make you feel like, but…any horror movie buff will have expected some jump at the end. So it not only failed to shock, it (probably) didn’t even measure up to what we were all expecting.

Oh well.

The movie gets 5/10 for being decently jumpy in the middle, but not having much else going for it. It’s not really that enjoyable either, so I dunno. I…can’t really say I recommend it.

Unless, you know, you have a thing for killer models.

In case you missed Episode 1, you can read it here.