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Posts from Blackframes.com.au by Lach Ryan

Blackframes is the writing of Lach Ryan

 

Filtering by Category: Funniness

Seven Underrated Reasons to Stay Married

Lach Ryan

People talk about marriage being an administrative formality.

I say what’s wrong with that?

As my Dad never used to say “Fight admin with admin”. In a world where paperwork threatens to destroy us all, a life admin partner or Husband/Wife is what we all need.

As someone who's now a dozen years deep into what is my first, and hopefully only, marriage here ’s a few reasons why I want things to stay that way:

1. For when the toilet paper runs out

Is there greater a reminder of our mortality and vulnerability than being stuck upon the porcelain throne sans a roll of tree flakes? Luckily for those betrothed, we can simply order a new one via our spouse like an Uber Eats of bathroom supplies. An urgent shout or a revealing text and the TP is soon creeping through the discreetly cracked-open toilet door, delivering a double length of devotion.

2. For inspecting/removing things on your back

Alone, you’d never know what it is.
It could be a mole, an ingrown hair, a kernel of popcorn embedded from Gold Class the night before. Perhaps it's a spider bite, or a spider egg sac buried under the skin or an early form melanoma. Maybe it is the repressed memory of your PE teacher doing star jumps in loose fitting speedos at the swim carnival, reforming as a cyst. Or is it that unwanted thatch of hair you can’t quite shave/wax yourself? Whatever the case, unless you have been hitting those vinyasa flow classes hard, you’ll need your better half to deal with anything on your back half.

3. For the social excuses

I don’t know how I got out of anything before I was married. How do single people do it? There is nothing you can’t get out of with a spousal-commitment based lie. The “I’m sorry I can’t. My wife/husband has a thing,” line works every time. The ‘thing’ can be interchangeable and is best left up to the imagination of the excuse-receiver, but could include - a prior engagement, appointment with the Governor General, chronic or terminal illness, food allergy, cat allergy, foot fetish, preference for manmade fibres, violent tendency towards players of golf or an extra finger. This will get you out of everything from Sunday BBQs with work colleagues to jury duty and school canteen duty.

4. For the junk food enabler

We all have our vices, but how many of us have enablers supporting them in their vices? A addiction shared is an addiction halved. It’s pretty much guaranteed that somewhere around the third wedding anniversary, you should both have a full blown sugar addiction to feed each night, underpinned by bare foot drives to the local 7-11 to score your hit. There's a twisted comfort sharing in being junk food junkies and knowing Type 2 Diabetes won’t be so bad if it’s the two of you together.

5. For the benefit couple branding

Nicknames have a classic appeal and a longevity. It doesn't matter how what sort of man you may have become, some part of you will always be that nine year old in the schoolyard known as “Pastie Nut”. Then there is the next level of cool; the couple nickname. This can't be achieved alone. I look to those in my own circles, Benama (Ben and Amanda) , Hamily (Hamish and Emily) and the short, but not insignificant, Toe (Tim and Zoe). Two of those three couples are staying together not for the kid (or the Groodles in Toe's case) but for the status of the moniker.

6. For outsourcing the purchasing of socks, underwear and milk

This is something you don't need to ever have to do again post your wedding night. The above are all basic life necessities and you’ll find it hard to go more than a few days without fresh versions of them. Just don’t ever buy them for yourself again. That’s what your legal life partner is for. Only problem is, you’ll be responsible for purchasing theirs. Quick tips for beginners - when it comes to underwear cuts, do unto others. If you won’t wear a Brazilian Cheeky Cut, you cant expect others too as well. Also nobody outside the Tasmanian Logging Industry wears Holeproof Explorers.

7. For severance pay on departure

Should you win the ultimate game of life - outliving your significant other, you are in for a sweet reward. You should be getting a nice little pay out! Hopefully the emphasis will be on the ‘nice’ rather than the ‘little’. It all depends on how late the stage of life you are in and how their career rat race was run. Either way, it’s better than a participation trophy. They are good too. In fact, my wife and I have both agreed to have a large one made up and awarded to the survivor at the funeral of the first of us to pass. Too often in life we overlook the real achievements, so it’s good to mark those moments.

So sit and reflect on the above before you call in the divorce lawyers. I’ll agree that a housemate or well-trained dog or monkey would take care of most of the them, but there’s something great in sharing life with another human and the romantic formality of marriage.

Lattes in Lycra

Lach Ryan

I don't turn forty for another six years, but I thought I would get a head start on my mid-life crisis and take up cycling. A few weeks in and I can understand its appeal. The early morning starts, spectacular scenery, the low-impact, high-intensity workout and the tribal appeal of belonging to thefastest growing sports cult since rollerblading.

What has appealed to me most is the ritualistic integration of cycling with coffee. It seems like everyone is Lance Armstronging themselves on the stuff any chance they get. I love that every ride is structured around which cafe it will end at.

What I didn't realise I would love so much is sitting in those cafes sipping my latte in lycra.

Yes friends, I have joined them.

We are the enlightened.

We have reckoned with our body image issues and now present them for you to deal with, wrapped in lycra, out in the public sphere, all whilst enjoying poached eggs and kale.

We know what you don’t.

There is nothing better than combining the benefits of aerodynamic clothing with your long macchiato, or is it small? It matters not; when you’re wearing lycra the whole cafe will soon decide for themselves.

What I do take issue with in a cafe is men and (mostly) women who are wearers of “activewear”.

Usually activewearers will have betrayed the first part that noun unless you count walking from the carpark into the cafe as activity. The definition of ‘wear’ is also quite often stretched by these types, along with the fabric itself.

What was intended to be functional athletic apparel for those who exercise, has been hijacked by fast fashion to become the staple weekend wardrobe of Masterchef mums and DIY dads, struggling students and saggy seniors.

“Activewear” is fashion saying “Bae,why exercise when you can just look like you have but without all the necessary cardiovascular, musculoskeletal and endorphin producing benefits?!”

It needs to stop. The problem with fashion is that trends evolve. Right now it's classic black lycra with the occasional print embellishment but that won't last. Do you think your local cafe will be such a welcoming place when the nude trend makes its way to yoga pants?

Imagine trying to enjoy your single origin pour over and the weekend papers, when Mrs Ashcourt your old high school teacher is waiting in her flesh coloured leggings for a very, very flat white. No sugar.

May I suggest a simple guiding principle? That you need to have burned more calories than you intend to consume to earn the right to wear lycra in a cafe.

Let’s just hope rollerblades don't become the next footwear trend or we are all stuffed.

When I grow up

Lach Ryan

“When I grow up…” is probably one of the most used sayings for those under 10 years old beside “Can I watch Netflix now?”

A few weeks back my oldest, who has just started school, had to dress up as what he wants to be when he grows up.

He decided on a Fireman. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be a hose hound. A flame retardant. I hear the hours are reasonable and many of them can work a second job around their shifts at the station. Jobs such as exotic dancers for Hen’s Parties. I suppose it is a logical progression when the uniform is the same.

But this made me reflect on what it was that I wanted to be when I was a kid. 

The earliest career dream I can remember was to become a Soldier. I think it was because they have guns. I grew out of that a few years later but I think the reason most people still join the Army is because of the guns. That or the chance to have a tank as your company car.

Around the age of eight I had a desire to be a Builder. We were getting the family home renovated and I liked the smell of wood chips and the fact you wore a tool belt. I perceived early on that jobs that require specialist belts are rare.

When I was 10 years old I made a career choice that was more lifestyle based. It involved living on my Nan’s farm and running a Car Wash business from the sheds. I didn't like the idea of working the land as an actual farmer. I must have known at an early age agriculture is a hard industry to be in. My car wash empire revolved around the notion that my Nan would soon die. I remember asking my Mum how long she had to live approximately, as this needed to be factored into my planning. I would then live in the bungalow with my mate Matt and we would wash cars all day, wear overalls and be bringing in the big bucks - enough to have a fridge full of Coke cans like Tom Hanks in Big.

The car wash dream died soon after, and luckily Nan didn't (She’s still alive to this day with a much smaller shed…you couldn't even run a dog wash from it).

I again become interested in the emergency services, preferring to imagine myself one day becoming a Cop. I think it was the combination of the uniform, vehicle and again, the gun. Maybe if more big corporates looked to dress their employees in cool uniforms with lots of pockets, buttons and zips, gave them vehicles with sirens to drive in and handed out a few more company-issue firearms…it wouldn’t be so hard to attract quality staff.

Once I hit high school, there was only one thing I wanted to be. A professional footballer. I remember having to make sacrifices in pursuit of my dream, shunning the fast life of the teenage social scene for a good nights sleep and full energy reserves for training. Soon enough this balloon popped and the reality of my abilities kicked in, and I fell a few steps short of my goal.

Luckily though, I was still young enough to develop a new career ambition - rock star.  I applied the same dedication to improving my musical abilities as I had to football. Unfortunately, or fortunately for lovers of early 2000’s pop-punk/post-hardcore, my rock star musical credentials were lacking.

I headed to university on track to become a Marketing graduate but not loving the idea of spending a lifetime promoting businesses. So when I stumbled upon Stand Up Comedy, I knew I had found my life’s purpose.

For the 7 few years I spent countless hours in smoke-filled bars, sweaty clubs, cupboard-sized rooms and run down theatres learning the trade of talking to roomfuls (more often unfilled) of people wanting to laugh (who would often not achieve that state) and willing to pay for it (mostly with their time rather than legal tender).

It was the best times of my life and I learnt as much from that as I did at university. Yet I had a constant internal niggle to use my degree. Although my time in comedy showed some promise, fame and opportunity weren’t quick to show their heads. What I did see where many old, lonely heads who had walked that path ahead of me as their life choice, and it didn't look good.

I am sure when your only other career option is slinging bins into the back of a garbage truck, then working as a club stand up for a few hundred cash each week is a viable alternative. Who needs superannuation when you’re not sure if your liver, or your onstage persona, will let you live to 60 anyway?!

I decided to place the mic down (as oppose to throw it away) after a sad-clown moment post a comedy festival show and there it has remained for the past five years.

Around that time I became a Dad, and life got serious.

This meant using the degree, doing the Marketing jobs and working in offices with photocopiers and people called Wendy, sharing birthday cakes and awkward team building days.

I am far from living my dream, but I am probably living someone else’s. I make good money, have been able to travel the world and have got to meet and work some great people.

Last weekend I was talking to a friend about what we said we wanted to be when we finished High School. We worked out only one or two people actually achieved that (Bevan did say he would end up in jail, but then didn't specify if he was OK with that, so we didn't count him).

No kid goes to school dressed as an Account Manager for a cup company. You can’t ever tell where life will go. The stories are just too intricate and variable.

I did alway want to be a Dad. That’s my main job now and my kids make it the best. One of them wants to be a fireman…