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5 Ways YouTube Makes Me Hate It

Basically our favourite person Carol Tobin in the universe brings us some fear & loathing on the internet.
I hate YouTube. When I told my friend how much I hated YouTube she replied “But you can’t hate YouTube, it’s like saying you hate breathing.” Well I do hate breathing but any time I’ve tried to cut back on that I look ridiculous. 

1 . YouTube clips ruin magical moments 

Picture this, Dublin 2012. Your eyes meet across a deserted pub. You’re both lonely what with losing everyone you know to emigration. And “lonely” can sound like “horny” when said with a lump in your throat.  You need each other. If only to have that special person in your life who will notice if you haven’t tweeted in an hour. So you end up back at whoever’s home is nearer.
Taxis are expensive and anyway it’s more economical to put out and get the bus home in the morning. Location, location, procreation. You’re sitting awkwardly in their home. You’ve run out of things to say on the couch, but you still have loads that could be said in a bed. So you want to get to a bed. You convince yourself you might love them. You laugh at jokes they don’t make and say “ah shucks” at cute things they haven’t mentioned.
Then they ruin the fantasy and go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “Have you seen the YouTube clip with the giraffe singing Too Shy by that band Kajagoogoo?” And your sexual organs contract and suddenly the four hour walk home doesn’t seem so bad.
You mutter as you leave “You’re just too good for me, I can feel it already, I need some dark and rain on me. I must go.” And it could have been love. Or it could have been premature ejaculation and gingivitis soaked gums panting on top of you.
You’ll never know. 
You’ll never know because you tried to enhance your personality with a YouTube clip and you ruined the moment.

Way to go crashing my sex drive
       

2. Talking Dogs

The reason a dog is a man’s best friend has nothing to do with man ingesting loved up vibe inducing ecstasy tablets and then encountering a dog.
“You’re my best friend Rexy Bastard; we should join a gym together when these drugs wear off.”
A dog is a man’s best friend because dogs don’t talk. Therefore you can have a dog in your life and it won’t ruin said life by doing running commentary on how much you masturbate. Or how little you masturbate. A dog will lick your tears and not tell your mother about the quantity of tears it just licked.  A dog won’t ridicule you for breaking the five second rule as you peel week old lettuce from under the fridge and ingest it with your eyes closed. A dog won’t tut tut under its dog breathe when you stand on an upturned plug for the fifth time that day. So leave dogs alone. Stop putting words in their mouths, or human voices over clips of them.  If they wanted to talk they would. And if they could they’d probably tell you get that stupid camera away from their faces. 

Let’s fight obesity together

3. YouTube isn’t YouPorn

4. Leave them kids alone 

“Hey Carol, saw this clip of a baby making the noise of a pear ripening as she exhales, thought of you.”
Life is hard. It truly is. Despite what my boobs will tell you, I grew up too fast. At 10 I was washing roads in the pissing rain just to put bread on the periodic table. Even though my days and nights were hard at best at least I didn’t have my parents watching my every move with a camera in the hope I would do something funny or mildly entertaining to then have them share it with 54 people. At least my folks slept occasionally and weren’t ingesting huge quantities of caffeine supplements to keep themselves awake in case I happened to gurgle the 18th century song folk song “A Fox May Steal Your Hens, Sir”. At least my Mama and Papa didn’t meet on an I Want to Be Famous, You Want to Be Famous, Let’s Make a Baby and Make the Baby Famous Instead dating website. Nowadays kids can tell how much their parents love them by how many YouTube clips they have uploaded during their formative years. And if for some strange reason you were an internet sensation as a child, that’s huge pressure on you for the rest of your life.  How will those kids featured in Charlie Bit My Finger ever top that moment?  Biting sibling’s fingers doesn’t get funnier with age, it gets progressively sadder.
                                         
Let’s have a famous baby together

5. Don’t you feel silly now?

You click on a YouTube link. You watch the clip. You think to yourself “this must be real, like, it looks so real.” And you watch it a few times, examining it for discrepancies and then convinced “It must be real, like it looks so real.” You email it on to every contact you have and you get on with your life. Or at least you try to get on with your life. Something has changed though. People seem distant. Your friends aren’t getting your movie references and you notice potential shags are busy washing their sick mother’s hair. You smell yourself. What could it be? Then after a few months of heavy drinking you have a hepiphany (hangover + epiphany). That YouTube clip you sent was a set up. It wasn’t real. Even though it looked so real. They didn’t really fall into the swimming pool on their wedding day. And everyone you sent the link to didn’t believe that they really fell into a swimming pool on their wedding day. And they judged you on that clip and lost respect for you. 
  
 Let’s get married and make a fake YouTube clip on our wedding day
and inadvertently destroy people’s lives.

No self was harmed in the compiling of this list. 

Carol Tobin is in Student Teacher and does thing on Twitter we can only dream of.

Life’s Too Long – Day 53

Carol Tobin returns with another journal entry from Sam Fox’s diary. Previous instalment can be found here.

I got my first letter this morning. I was hoping it was a marriage proposal from some horny truck driver who might have admired my picture in the paper around the time of the court case and knew good bone structure when he saw it. I fantasize a lot about truck drivers in here. Maybe it’s the open road and how I would love to be on one.  Maybe it’s just me assuming they would be great in bed because they have all this lonely time to themselves, to be thinking of what they will do to you, when they see you next.

 Keep on trucking. Save me.

But it wasn’t a letter from RANDYSCANIA33.  It was a letter from my daughter Destiny asking how to use the washing machine. Because I have plenty of time on my hand’s, I was able to measure exactly how sad and funny that letter was and I conclude that it is as sad, as it is funny. She also sent me a plastic watch, which had a note attached saying, “I’m counting down the minutes Mama”. Emotional blackmail at its best. But maybe counting down Mama’s Minutes might keep her occupied and she won’t end up on drugs, on the game, or on both, taking performance-enhancing drugs to keep her punters happy. If she does take that path/lane in life, then I really hope she doesn’t borrow any of my clothes in a bid to attract punters. I’d kill her if she did that. She’s always had her eye on my expensive leopard print shorts.

Well whores are sitting on a fortune aren’t they?

 I have started reading Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment because it’s the only book in here where the pages aren’t stuck together with tears. I think women’s tear ducts should be removed when they come into prison. So many red fat eyed women walking about with flaky faces from where the salt in their tears has dried out their skin. Have a bit of self-respect lassies.  I have to say I am empathising with Raskolnikov in the book, we both think that murder is permissible in pursuit of a higher purpose.  My higher purpose was to rid the world of my husband and that I did. I was also high at the time so is that a High Higher purpose?

Who gives a shit?

 I am off to bed now to listen to the various levels of sobbing that you can hear in here.

As a truck driver on his walkie-talkie would say OVER AND OUT, as I say OVER AND NOT OUT.

Carol Tobin is the best person on Twitter.

LIFE’S TOO LONG – DAY 11

Carol Tobin bravely went undercover into a women’s prison to bring us another instalment of Samantha Fox’s diary. Here’s the first entry if you missed it.

So I finally got myself a nickname in here, Chip Pan Sam they call me. It’s catchy, I’ll give them that. And apt seeing as I murdered my husband with a chip pan. I learnt the word “Apt” the hard way during a lunchtime scuffle. I won’t go into details as I don’t remember many because rage makes me forgetful. Not that they call me Chip Pan Sam to my face. Because a nickname like that instils fear. And I know I’m the scariest bitch in here. It’s better than Samantha the Fox, which people used to call me on the outside. That name unnerved me, especially when my eight year old son Tijuana’s school friends used to call me it. I wonder how littleTijuanais doing. Does he miss me? Although we never really had a chance to bond, what with him in school five days a week.

MY CHIP PAN WAS MORE MODERN

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Life’s Too Long

We have a special guest piece today at Humourisms, our good friend Carol Tobin found this diary entry hidden inside the carcass of a dead dog and was kind enough to send it in. The diary is from a 36 year old woman named Sam Fox who killed her husband. Warning for our more fragile readers: life is tough and then you die. Deal with it.

LIFE’S TOO LONG – DAY 2

Day two of a life sentence for murdering my husband. My sister warned me that prison was going to be tough. She watches Banged Up Abroad every evening. I told her abroad was Spain and that I was going to an Irish prison. She said she would have probably visited me more if I was in a Spanish prison because she could make a holiday out of it. Why would she walk down the road to see her sister when she’s been seeing me for years? That was her logic. She’s lucky I didn’t kill her with that chip pan instead of Teddy. I’m sure that will be going into the “regret” notebook that the priest sent me. My brother gave me a diary for in here, he reckons that I could be the next Foxy Knoxy and get millions when I get out and all the families financial worries would be over. Five year old kids can be so stupid. The diary he gave me is tiny and I couldn’t even use it as a calorie diary. I’d like to think he means well but he’s just a money hungry little shit like them all.

My family were worried for my safety in here, my mother said “you’ll be eaten alive like those pigs that eat human remains that have been minced.” Little did she know I knew damn well what she was talking about because that was my preferred method of disposal. But unfortunately for me I never made it past the front door, not to mind to the pig farm I’d found on Google.

LAYOUT OF A PIGFARM

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