Plastic fantastic?

I am becoming increasingly sure that somewhere in my house there is another dimension where plastic shit breeds.

Otherwise, how can you explain the proliferation around the house of those dinky toys you get in fast food outlets?

I'm sure my kids haven't been to [insert name of whatever chain takes your fancy when it comes to plastic toys - and food] a kabillion times, so how come we seem to have a kabillion useless little toys?

They get under your feet, get sucked up the vacuum cleaner. You find them behind the couch and deep in the linen of the gown-ups' bed. They're inside the house and out, and the more you throw the more take their place.

We have Ben 10 figurines, characters from Rio and Night at the Museum. We have Stawberry Shortcakes, Australian Idol "iPods" and strange, unidentifyable objects that not even the seven year old can explain.

It's like an episode of Twilight zone.

And don't even get me started on Kinder (f-ing) Surprise.

Hell on earth

I don't believe in heaven and hell (so it's a good thing the Rapture was a furphy), but if I did, I'd like to think there's a special place reserved deep in the pits of fire for certain characters.

I mean it goes without saying that all your peadophile, murderers, wife beaters etc will take up a far bit of the spcae but if there is a little left over, I have some suggestions (in no particular order).

1/Manufacturers./importers/designers/retailers/wholesalers of flat pack furniture
Remember when furniture used to come all assembled, and delivered to your door? OK the flat pack stuff is cheaper, but is it really worth the the years you lose off your life with the stress of working out those ineligible instructions with the stick figures? And don't even get me started on allen keys.

2/ People who knowingly send their nit-infested kids to school/daycare
Keep them home. I'm sick of that horrible lotion stuff and that ouchy litle comb. I realise anyone can get nits, but reasonable, decent parents keep their kids home. Learn from them.

3/ Not-my-jobbers and What's-in-it-for-me-ers
We are all working towards a common goal, aren't we? I know it's hard not to refer to your position description everytime you are asked for a favour. But please, for the love of God, try. The most annoying type of workmate, closely followed by...

4/Tea room gossipers
I don't care what your best mate got up to on the weekend, nor do I give a rat's arse if yoiur sister-in-law is a crazy-arsed bitch. Do these people not realise that noise travels in open plan offices? When people are trying to work, listening to you bang on about your favourite curry recipe is incredibly annoying.

5/The management guru who decided that open-plan offices led to more team building.
 See above.

So that's my whinge for the day ... does anyone want any other  added to the list?

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Google, it has been 17 days since nmy last blog post.

In that time, I have coveted my neighbours shoes, spoken ill of many people., I have been  impatient, angry, envious, proud, jealous, vengeful, gluttonous and slothful. I have not been chaste in mind or body. And I have almost certainly taken my mother's name in vein.

I was brought up Catholic, you see, and I quite like the idea that you can do pretty much anything you want, as long as you confess, say a few Hail Marys and are truly sorry for your sins.

I stopped going to confession some 30 years ago - and became agnostic around the same time - but I still think we could all do with a confession now and then. At least to purge our conscience.

But who needs religion when you have the Internets to hear your confessions.

In the past month or so I've read about

• the "hooker teacher"
• A nasty divorce and custody dispute (clearly written by someone who should be seeing a psychologist, rather than writing diatribes)
• A bloke surprised that he is now pretty much alone after being an arsehole to both his wife and his mistress.; and
• A writer who took umbrage to an online critique

There's more, and the common thread seems to be that none of these people have enough self-awareness to realise that their confessions (or in the final example, reaction) are likely to attract vitriol and bile and be the subject of much water-cooler discussions.

Or maybe they do? Maybe this is the 21st century version  of "bad press is better than no press at all". Maybe they are looking for there 15 minutes of fame?

Whatever their reasons, this sticky beak is very grateful for other's lack of inhibitions. But if you expect the same from A Small Drop of Ink, you might want to stop reading right now.