I was thinking about some really deep shit the other day and just as i was finishing up, the terms 'win' and 'fail' swooped my mental landscape like two magpies wanting to pick from the vast fields of knowledge inside my head. I thought about how a few years ago the terms 'win' and 'fail' were only ever used in conjunction with someone's success or some jackass' way of claiming victory and how they've suddenly become this crazy internet phenomenon that has somehow breached real life and is way more entertaining than it should be.
It's concept is pretty simple, a win is when something awesome happens like finding a five dollar note and then finding a rare basketball card underneath it, whereas a fail would see you getting hit by a car whilst picking it up. If one of your friends has his timing sorted and shouts "fail" while you're getting hit by the car, the transaction was successful and many laughs will be shared whereas a similar effect will occur should somone announce "win" upon you retrieving the money and the card without any unpleasantries.
On the internet it's the same story, only the users of this currency are often far more malicious and consequently, far more hilarious. Any perfectly good moment captured by any form of media can be stripped of all merit with the simple application of the word 'FAIL' in large bold text. Moreso, a perfectly sombre image like a cancer patient or a sick puppy can instantly be revived with the addition of the word 'WIN' in a similar style of lettering. As these words slowly lose all meaning over the years and the viewer isn't 100% on what an actual win or fail looks like anymore, the only real winner is whoever the fuck made the picture, and god knows who that could be.
Anyway, with all of that bullshit out of the way, i'd like to let you in on my own little win/fail story that occurred just the other day. It's called 'Take your car and shove it up your ass and i know it would fit there'.
Nothing gets me more excited than the end of a working day. The anticipation of that final stroke of the clock coupled with the shaking off of your daily timetable is one of the most satisfying feelings of all time. I'd just clocked off for the day and things were looking good. I was going skateboarding after work, i was considering buying an alcoholic beverage and my drive home cigarette was gaining appeal faster than a locomotive with rockets attached to it, which, for those of you who aren't good at math, is really fucking fast. The only thing that stood in my way was a super annoying ascent of Claremont's famous three storey parking lot. Wow Claremont, you've really outdone yourself. Three storeys? Yeah, because i guess not everyone that visits your wealthy post code has a fucking helicopter, and may need an actual parking space every now and then.
So i've climbed the stairs and walked to the car and everything is terrific. Just as i open the front door an obstruction lodges itself in the corner of my vision. A small, black, four-wheeled manifestation that was no doubt purchased at the expense of a wealthy business man's bank account so his daughter wouldn't look awkward whilst lip synching the latest Bloc Party album at red lights and intersections. I'm of course referring to the latest incarnation of the Volkswagen Beetle. No, not the symbolic VW Beetle that poor people and seniors tend to drive, i'm talking about the U2 endorsed harbinger of all that is preppy and funky, the Beetle revised.
After some simple calculations and a whole lot of head scratching, i sat in the car wondering how the fuck i was ever going to get out of there. What if this Tafe graduate never returns? What if she's visiting her boyfriend and they're having tapas? Am i meant to just sit here and play with myself while she gets wined and dined to ambient Architecture in Helsinki and the scent of chorizo and olives? Am i experiencing a fail at the cost of her win?
I had to do something, fast. There was no way i was going to politely sit there and be raped for my time without some kind of tactical response. I remembered back to all the times i'd double parked people and it seems that a friendly 'fuck you' note is the order of business when dealing with such carelessness. I already had a pen, but finding a piece of paper when you need one is like finding a parking spot in Claremont, even when you do find one it's soaked in urine or wet cement. After scrounging about i managed to find a discarded cd cover and do you know what cd covers contain? That's right, the little bit of paper that you use to write the track listings on, also known as the track listings bit of paper. Having never written a track list in my entire life i was blessed with a blank canvas to articulate the ultimate win for display on this broad's vehicle.
As you could imagine, i was overwhelmed with the possibilities of my written assault. Do i approach her gently and with remorse? Or do i sarcastically attack her intelligence and write an entire paragraph about better things she could have been doing with her time instead of double parking me?
It was at that moment that i had a premonition. What if i used the track listing for it's desired purpose and composed an entire pretend album about how inconvenient her life was making my life? The win potential was through the roof and it was a completely victimless crime. Unless of course you are the victim in question.
Genius right? I mean, aside from the horrible handwriting and the rushed appearance of it all, my intentions were quite clear. For those of you that can't read wingdings, the note should read as follows.
*THE FAIL ALBUM*
Track 1 - Move your fucking car.
Track 2 - You're an idiot.
Track 3 - I assume you live in Claremont, buy your own parking lot.
Track 4 - Move your fucking car (remix).
Track 5 - I hate your car.
Track 6 - You fail at math (feat. You).
Track 7 - Black VW Beetles are for jerks.
Executive produced by YOU.
I stress the 'should' in the above paragraph due to the fact that i made several elementary mistakes, thus dampening the entire experience for me and whoever is on the receiving end of my latest LP. I mean, i had to write the note as quickly as possible before the owner got back. I had to do it in stealth as an all seeing security camera watched my every move, from the writing of the note, to the placement of the note, to me taking photos of it afterwards, EVERYTHING.
Seriously, whatever the fuck i was smoking when i wrote this, i want more of it so i can reach the same level of consciousness i was obviously at when i wrote it. The 'you're instead of your' error is something i have been doing my whole life and even though it's one of the basic forms of punctuation and belonging, i can't seem to get my head around it, especially when i'm writing track listings in the form of move your car notes at top speed. I mean, i only learnt how to spell 'definitely' properly after spelling it 'definately' my whole life and around a hundred times throughout my blog's lifespan. Not making excuses.
When i realised i'd written Track 6 twice like a fucking idiot, i was ready to turn around and drive all the way back to re-write it. Then i remembered the security footage and how ridiculous it would look if someone left a note on a car window only to return twenty minutes later to edit it and leave it there again. That's not to say that i wouldn't have done it if there wasn't a security camera present, because i probably would have.
As i look back on the whole scenario i can definitely conclude that 'wins' and 'fails' do not work well together. The epic win of my idea and the epic fail in it's execution created an apocolyptic mess of lost messages and perfectly good humour gone to waste. If i'd written the note properly, god knows how the owner of that vehicle would have felt. She probably would've driven her car off the top floor of the carpark and called it a day because she knew that after my note, life doesn't get much better. Had i not written the note at all, i never would have gone through the learning experience and what will hopefully be the last time i ever have to make an imaginary album to get a message through to some anonymous anon who i'll never actually meet in person.
At the end of the day i ended up doing an 80,000 point turn to get out of there, much to the amazement of the onlookers who managed to witness my display on the way out. I'm sure the footage of it is surreal.
Unfortunately, shitbreath has had enough. Whenever i finish work i always have a quick browse of the carpark to see if anyone has been double parked. It's become a tradition since it happened to me and it's always a nice little after work chuckle if someone has been blocked in. Today was far more than a chuckle though, look at where shitbreath has parked.
What do you do in a situation like this? It's so awesome that you can't handle it but at the same time you wish you could pick up cars and throw them. Luckily for awesomeness is pure like driven snow and is more than capable of washing out an emotion like fury. Here's how:
You could see how such things would instantly destroy any hurtful feelings i had towards Mr. Shitbreath. These notes were on every car on the top level! It was fucking hilarious! I even saw the asian lady from the bank take one off her car, look around, neatly fold it up and then samurai sword herself in the stomach because she was so angry. Then she got up and drove home like it was nothing, thus ending one of the more exciting chapters in this no doubt lengthy saga.
