I know this might be a strange thing to feel this passionate about, but I absolutely hate kitten heels. Loathe them. And I know i’m not alone. Facebook group: ‘Kitten heels make me sick’. 58, 696 people like this. They’re one of the most pointless things to come out of fashion. Except maybe shutter shades. Either wear flats, or man up and wear actual heels, don’t just hover around 5cm off the ground. They remind me of those creepy little beauty pageant kids clacking about in their Fisher Price My-First-Heels. I've heard rumours that they're suddenly stylish again. Why they keep resurfacing like fashion’s very own poltergeist is beyond me, but I for one will not be rushing out to join the kitten clan any time soon.
Friday, 26 August 2011
"Beauty, to me, is about being comfortable in your own skin. That, or kick ass red lipstick."
Not sure if you caught it, but the other day, BBC3 aired 'Cherry's Body Dilemmas', a programme that cut right to the heart of womankinds biggest worry. One that is concieved through relentless peer pressure in our teens, and stays with us for much of our adult lives, sometimes blooming into an obsession. I'm talking about the way we look. At a guess, I would say 99% of us would change something about ourselves. Be it longer legs, smaller boobs, more Jolie-esque lips. It's always something. This got me thinking. And the more I thought, seven words kept ricocheting around my head: what. the. hell. is. wrong. with. us? I mean, what exactly are we aspiring to be here? Is it me, or does the world's perception of what it is to be beautiful change almost seasonally? Are we supposed to be thin or curvy? Girl next door or sex kitten? But I think, if you unwrap all the mixed messages, all the fad diets, all the impossible ideals, there is a more poigniant question that needs answering. Why are we trying? Sure, if I'm honest with myself there is an entire list of things I would change. Less cellulite, bigger eyes, longer eyelashes, whiter teeth. But I can't have those things. Well, to be really exact I can't have those things without the aid of painful and expensive surgery. So why do I care? Far too many women are throwing every iota of attention towards what they don't have, and ignoring what they do. I know, it's easier said than done, but we need to stop viewing other women as either our competition or our aim. We need to learn to separate, to think 'OK, that's what they look like. This is what I look like, we're different, and that's fine.'
Because when you think about it, beauty is completely subjective. There's a whole world of types and variations our there. One person's heaven is another's hell no. Sometimes it seems like all the constant focus on body image is a radio that we can't turn off, that blares in the back of our thoughts all the time. But I hope we can learn to make this one thought louder than all the bullshit: there will always, always be somebody that thinks you're a ten.
Because when you think about it, beauty is completely subjective. There's a whole world of types and variations our there. One person's heaven is another's hell no. Sometimes it seems like all the constant focus on body image is a radio that we can't turn off, that blares in the back of our thoughts all the time. But I hope we can learn to make this one thought louder than all the bullshit: there will always, always be somebody that thinks you're a ten.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
Tweets from the front line.
Twitter. It's a pretty dividing concept. You've got one group, the Tweeters themselves, who see it as a way to speak to the world. Whether it's to network, promote, or just to get something off your chest - you can guarantee that somebody, somewhere will be listening. Then there are those who see it as nothing more than egotism. Bragging in 140 characters or less. But last night, Twitter stepped up. All over the country, people were doing their best to report riot news in their area. As the night went on, and more of London was burned to the ground, I, for one, couldn't leave my Twitter unattended. It seemed that it was the quickest way to find out exactly what was happening, with real people reporting fresh bouts of violence before any news organisation even got wind of them. And now the same social networks that have been blamed for this pointless violence are becoming the very platform for it's clean up. In the wake of all this destruction, there are some embers of hope. Maybe there is more good than bad in the country.
Here is just a snippet of what Britain had to say last night:
@BrianMcHarg: fill the water cannons with pink dye, spray the rioters en masse each night, round up the pink folk the following day. simples. #londonriots
@Mattedmondson: My best mate, Tom, is a police man. He's barely slept for days and is out there now fighting this. It's all so unnecessary. #londonriots
@fleetstreetfox: Dear police and fire people on the streets tonight: from the rest of us, thank you. #Londonriots
@cripesonfriday: Can they stop calling it unrest, sleeping on a sofabed in a draft with a lumpy pillow is unrest.
@clarkville: The fire brigade are, as always, true fucking heroes!
@DavidAllenGreen: I think we should have another royal wedding. That will do the trick. Harry and Pippa, your country needs you...
@swanidotcom: The Youth of the Middle East rise up for basic freedom. The Youth of London rise up 4 HD ready 42" Plasma TV #Londonriots
@SamAtRedmag: poor local shopkeepers who've worked their whole lives & are now watching it go up in smoke. No-one will help them rebuild #londonriots
@GarethAveyard:How embarrassing to be human.
@keirshiels:Moral of the week: Must heed warnings of The Kaiser Chiefs.
@sueperkins: Dear Dave, fancy putting that Peroni and focaccia down and getting THE FUCK back to the country you apparently run?
@MrsLRCooper: How come Cameron cut short a work trip to Africa to deal with Murdoch but won't cut short his holiday to deal with this crisis. #perspective
@Divine_Miss_Em: This is simply awesome PR for the Olympics..
@GasolineShorts: My friend is currently cowering in her flat above shops in Hackney with her three month old baby. Anyone who thinks this is fun is a twat.
@gracedent: that's not sticking it to the police. it's just fucking over the person who's sold you milk every day for years.
@paulkingsnorth: When you blame looting and burning on 'poverty' you insult everyone poor who has an ethical backbone and knows how to use it. #londonriots
@itisTwin:London..... We're better than this man....
@caitlinmoran:I notice no-one has made a joke in my timeline in the last two hours. I have never seen this before.
Here is just a snippet of what Britain had to say last night:
@BrianMcHarg: fill the water cannons with pink dye, spray the rioters en masse each night, round up the pink folk the following day. simples. #londonriots
@Mattedmondson: My best mate, Tom, is a police man. He's barely slept for days and is out there now fighting this. It's all so unnecessary. #londonriots
@fleetstreetfox: Dear police and fire people on the streets tonight: from the rest of us, thank you. #Londonriots
@cripesonfriday: Can they stop calling it unrest, sleeping on a sofabed in a draft with a lumpy pillow is unrest.
@clarkville: The fire brigade are, as always, true fucking heroes!
@DavidAllenGreen: I think we should have another royal wedding. That will do the trick. Harry and Pippa, your country needs you...
@swanidotcom: The Youth of the Middle East rise up for basic freedom. The Youth of London rise up 4 HD ready 42" Plasma TV #Londonriots
@SamAtRedmag: poor local shopkeepers who've worked their whole lives & are now watching it go up in smoke. No-one will help them rebuild #londonriots
@GarethAveyard:How embarrassing to be human.
@keirshiels:Moral of the week: Must heed warnings of The Kaiser Chiefs.
@sueperkins: Dear Dave, fancy putting that Peroni and focaccia down and getting THE FUCK back to the country you apparently run?
@MrsLRCooper: How come Cameron cut short a work trip to Africa to deal with Murdoch but won't cut short his holiday to deal with this crisis. #perspective
@Divine_Miss_Em: This is simply awesome PR for the Olympics..
@GasolineShorts: My friend is currently cowering in her flat above shops in Hackney with her three month old baby. Anyone who thinks this is fun is a twat.
@gracedent: that's not sticking it to the police. it's just fucking over the person who's sold you milk every day for years.
@paulkingsnorth: When you blame looting and burning on 'poverty' you insult everyone poor who has an ethical backbone and knows how to use it. #londonriots
@itisTwin:London..... We're better than this man....
@caitlinmoran:I notice no-one has made a joke in my timeline in the last two hours. I have never seen this before.
Monday, 8 August 2011
My gap three weeks: diary of a first time traveller.
This summer, instead of frittering away my life watching back to back episodes of Jersey Shore, I decided I would actually do something a bit worthwhile and interrailing, which is pretty much travelling around Europe by train. So, me and two friends loaded our size-of-a-small-room backpacks with paraphernalia for just about any eventuality, including a waterproof poncho (hello,boys) and boarded a plane to Amsterdam.
And from Amsterdam we went to Den Haag.
And from Den Haag to Paris.
To Barcelona.
To Nimes (which was an accident, more of that later).
To Venice.
To Lljubljana.
To Bovec.
To Krakow.
To Prague.
And while it was an absolutely amazing experience, as three novice travellers we made a LOT of mistakes. Pretty much every mistake you can make, actually, from booking hostels on the wrong day to accidentally hanging around waiting for a night bus in a well-known red light district. So, for those of you off on your own adventures, first of all, lucky you. And second of all, here are some of the things I learned on my Gap Three Weeks. Take heed.
1. Learn about exchange rates. In Krakow, we didn't understand that 25zl equal 1 Euro. So you can understand our embarrassment when we got 40zl out of a cashpoint then galavanted about town expecting to live like kings.
2. READ THE SMALL PRINT ON YOUR TICKET. In a manouvere I don't think I will ever understand, I ripped off part of my ticket before going because I thought it was a questionaaire (yes, really. And no, I don't know why). Turns out that without part, the same part that was lying on my bedside table some 230 miles away my quote: 'ticket becomes invalid' end quote. Trust me, that is not a fun fact to be dealing with when you're nursing an Amsterdam sized hangover.
3. Pretending to be asleep on trains doesn't get you out of paying. They'll just shake you right awake.
4. Invest in a sleeping bag. Some of the hostels are pretty grim, and the only thing you want to catch when you're away is the travel bug.
5. Be prepared to sleep in some pretty strange places. Some of my personal highlights included pitching a tent on a train platform (seriously, very good idea) and a rather unforgettable night in Nimes. We'd spent a day trying to get from Barcelona to Marseille, but ended up stranded in Nimes when trains stopped running. Our initial plan? Just stay out all night and get the first train home. That was soon scuppered when we realised that tumbleweed wouldn't look out of place blowing around Nimes town centre. So, we set of trying to find a bed for the night. Several 'no vacancies' and '150 euros a night' later, we found ourselves in a cat-themed hotel. And after some VERY jammy convincing, ended up with an, shall we say, ususual set up. A woman staying in the hotel was on her own, but had booked a room for four people. No word of a lie, we ended up sharing her a room with her. Her in one bed, two of us in another, three in a double and one on the floor (we'd picked up three other backpackers on our way). She didn't speak a word of English. We don't speak French. She woke up every hour on the hour to have a cigarette. We were a bit drunk off beer and exhaustion. One of the more awkward nights of my life...
6. Read a map. In Barcelona station, we saw a sign about international trains saying: "Zurich, Venica, Talgo." So, we marched up to the ticket office, and asked for three reservations to Talgo. Instead of reservations, we got a blank stare. So I continued: "I think its in Switzerland." The ticket lady burst out laughing. It was out turn to look blank. Once she'd calmed down she told us that Talgo is actually not a Swiss holiday destination, but a type of train. To put it into perspective, that would be like an English person asking to go to Arriva. Not my finest hour.
7. Go to places you would never usually visit. In fact, go to Slovenia. It may not sound it, but it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. See for yourself.
8. If you're planning on going to Barcelona, go there last. Seriously, that place is harder to get out of than Alcatraz.
9. The train journeys can be really long. Use your time wisely. Like us? We decided to write a rap about our travels to the tune of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme tune. Things are much funnier on 24 hours with no sleep.
10. Sounds cheesy, but above all just relax and enjoy yourself. Things might not always go to plan but you can guarantee you'll end up in some pretty amazing places.
And from Amsterdam we went to Den Haag.
And from Den Haag to Paris.
To Barcelona.
To Nimes (which was an accident, more of that later).
To Venice.
To Lljubljana.
To Bovec.
To Krakow.
To Prague.
And while it was an absolutely amazing experience, as three novice travellers we made a LOT of mistakes. Pretty much every mistake you can make, actually, from booking hostels on the wrong day to accidentally hanging around waiting for a night bus in a well-known red light district. So, for those of you off on your own adventures, first of all, lucky you. And second of all, here are some of the things I learned on my Gap Three Weeks. Take heed.
1. Learn about exchange rates. In Krakow, we didn't understand that 25zl equal 1 Euro. So you can understand our embarrassment when we got 40zl out of a cashpoint then galavanted about town expecting to live like kings.
2. READ THE SMALL PRINT ON YOUR TICKET. In a manouvere I don't think I will ever understand, I ripped off part of my ticket before going because I thought it was a questionaaire (yes, really. And no, I don't know why). Turns out that without part, the same part that was lying on my bedside table some 230 miles away my quote: 'ticket becomes invalid' end quote. Trust me, that is not a fun fact to be dealing with when you're nursing an Amsterdam sized hangover.
3. Pretending to be asleep on trains doesn't get you out of paying. They'll just shake you right awake.
4. Invest in a sleeping bag. Some of the hostels are pretty grim, and the only thing you want to catch when you're away is the travel bug.
5. Be prepared to sleep in some pretty strange places. Some of my personal highlights included pitching a tent on a train platform (seriously, very good idea) and a rather unforgettable night in Nimes. We'd spent a day trying to get from Barcelona to Marseille, but ended up stranded in Nimes when trains stopped running. Our initial plan? Just stay out all night and get the first train home. That was soon scuppered when we realised that tumbleweed wouldn't look out of place blowing around Nimes town centre. So, we set of trying to find a bed for the night. Several 'no vacancies' and '150 euros a night' later, we found ourselves in a cat-themed hotel. And after some VERY jammy convincing, ended up with an, shall we say, ususual set up. A woman staying in the hotel was on her own, but had booked a room for four people. No word of a lie, we ended up sharing her a room with her. Her in one bed, two of us in another, three in a double and one on the floor (we'd picked up three other backpackers on our way). She didn't speak a word of English. We don't speak French. She woke up every hour on the hour to have a cigarette. We were a bit drunk off beer and exhaustion. One of the more awkward nights of my life...
6. Read a map. In Barcelona station, we saw a sign about international trains saying: "Zurich, Venica, Talgo." So, we marched up to the ticket office, and asked for three reservations to Talgo. Instead of reservations, we got a blank stare. So I continued: "I think its in Switzerland." The ticket lady burst out laughing. It was out turn to look blank. Once she'd calmed down she told us that Talgo is actually not a Swiss holiday destination, but a type of train. To put it into perspective, that would be like an English person asking to go to Arriva. Not my finest hour.
7. Go to places you would never usually visit. In fact, go to Slovenia. It may not sound it, but it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. See for yourself.
8. If you're planning on going to Barcelona, go there last. Seriously, that place is harder to get out of than Alcatraz.
9. The train journeys can be really long. Use your time wisely. Like us? We decided to write a rap about our travels to the tune of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme tune. Things are much funnier on 24 hours with no sleep.
10. Sounds cheesy, but above all just relax and enjoy yourself. Things might not always go to plan but you can guarantee you'll end up in some pretty amazing places.
Not so much panic on the streets of London, more total fucking madness.
"Lock your doors, stay in your homes and please don't try to go outside."
The sentence would slot nicely into the dialogue of some low budget zombie movie. But to hear it coming out of my TV? Into my lounge? On the real life news? I never thought it would happen. Unless you've been hibernating, you will have seen the positively apocolyptic coverage of the London riots. As the dust settles and the innocent people scramble to salvage the remaining shreds of the normal lives they were leading this time last week, there are going to be a lot of questions that need answering. Like, who did this? And why? Where did all the anger come from? What were they trying to prove? I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't buy that there was some political undertone to this twenty-first century version of the lunatics taking over the asylum. I get it, I really do. People are angry. The country is in a state, and someone needs to step up and take the blame. But this? Completely unconnected. This is just mindless. These kids, they're not looting Debenhams to teach the government a lesson. They're doing it because they can. They don't know why their angry any more than we do. It's this pack mentality - 'if enough of us do it, we won't get caught.' So what,what exactly have you done? Destroyed your own captial city? Burned down your own houses? Smashed the shops that you buy your food from? Wake up, London. This isn't 'sticking it to the police', this is shitting on your own doorstep personified. If you've got something to say, fine. But what's so wrong with saying it peacefully? It doesn't make you weak, it makes you smart. After all, who wants to help out the boy in a balaclava weilding a baseball bat, or the girl throwing fireworks at cars? I can't help but think of what a waste this is. If only we could unite to do something positive.
Oh, and David? Make sure you stop off at the duty free on the way home. You're gonna need a drink when you see the state of the country you apparently run.
The sentence would slot nicely into the dialogue of some low budget zombie movie. But to hear it coming out of my TV? Into my lounge? On the real life news? I never thought it would happen. Unless you've been hibernating, you will have seen the positively apocolyptic coverage of the London riots. As the dust settles and the innocent people scramble to salvage the remaining shreds of the normal lives they were leading this time last week, there are going to be a lot of questions that need answering. Like, who did this? And why? Where did all the anger come from? What were they trying to prove? I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't buy that there was some political undertone to this twenty-first century version of the lunatics taking over the asylum. I get it, I really do. People are angry. The country is in a state, and someone needs to step up and take the blame. But this? Completely unconnected. This is just mindless. These kids, they're not looting Debenhams to teach the government a lesson. They're doing it because they can. They don't know why their angry any more than we do. It's this pack mentality - 'if enough of us do it, we won't get caught.' So what,what exactly have you done? Destroyed your own captial city? Burned down your own houses? Smashed the shops that you buy your food from? Wake up, London. This isn't 'sticking it to the police', this is shitting on your own doorstep personified. If you've got something to say, fine. But what's so wrong with saying it peacefully? It doesn't make you weak, it makes you smart. After all, who wants to help out the boy in a balaclava weilding a baseball bat, or the girl throwing fireworks at cars? I can't help but think of what a waste this is. If only we could unite to do something positive.
Oh, and David? Make sure you stop off at the duty free on the way home. You're gonna need a drink when you see the state of the country you apparently run.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
Jumping on the bandwagon
Like most of the world, I entered 2011 drunk, surrounded by my lovely friends and still burdened with the hint of a food baby conceived at Christmas Dinner. And, like most of the world, I spent the first day of the shiny new year under a duvet, cursing Jaeger and vowing the be a better person. So, just so i've made an official record of them, here are my new years resolutions...
1. Seriously stop biting my nails.
2. Learn to do the splits. I really need a better party trick than rapping to 'Baby Got Back'.
3. Find out what happens to Harry Potter in the end. I think I might be the only person that doesn't know.
4. Be tidier - hair and bedroom included.
5. Write important dates in my diary, not on the back of Nandos receipts.
6. Save enough money to go to Thailand with one of my best friends in June.
7. Work up the courage to go bungee jumping.
8. Be good at ice skating.
9. Be good at uni.
10. KEEP. MY. RESOLUTIONS.
1. Seriously stop biting my nails.
2. Learn to do the splits. I really need a better party trick than rapping to 'Baby Got Back'.
3. Find out what happens to Harry Potter in the end. I think I might be the only person that doesn't know.
4. Be tidier - hair and bedroom included.
5. Write important dates in my diary, not on the back of Nandos receipts.
6. Save enough money to go to Thailand with one of my best friends in June.
7. Work up the courage to go bungee jumping.
8. Be good at ice skating.
9. Be good at uni.
10. KEEP. MY. RESOLUTIONS.
Monday, 27 December 2010
“First we make our habits, then our habits make us.”
I'll be straight with you, I watch the trashiest TV. Anything to do with car chases, deformities and velour-clad women trying to work out just who their baby daddy is - pretty much the spam of the entertainment world. So, I was having a flick through the other night, hoping for a bit of World's Toughest Prisons, or maybe Sharks Do The Scariest Things, when a BBC3 programme called Freak Like Me caught my eye. A few minutes in, I was hooked. It's all about people's weird, yet strangely endearing, little habits they have that come so naturally to them but seem completely unnatural to the outside world. There was a guy obsessed with eating out of bins. A women who only ate stale food. A student who collected dead bees. At first, I watched along with that morbid fascination you get when you're exposed to a situation you have no personal experience with. I thought to myself "I don't have any habits like this". A few days later, though, I realised that isn't strictly true. I have quite a few weird little rituals actually. It's just that they've become so engraved in my life that I don't even notice I'm doing them, don't even regard them as quirks. For example, I always, always have the volume of my TV on an even number. Don't ask me why, it's just something I've always done. Always stack my biscuits in 4's when I'm having them with a cuppa. No idea what I think is going to happen if 5th biscuit comes along and rocks the boat. Talking to my sister about it, she has her own little collection of habits that, at first, she didn't even regard as unusual because she was so used to them. I think it's exactly that little web of unique quirks, traits and rituals that make humans so interesting. We shouldn't be shy about them, we should be embracing them. We should be getting our freak on. The only thing we should be embarrassed about is the terrible pun I just made. Sorry, don't hate me.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00w59n8/Freak_Like_Me_Episode_5/
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00w59n8/Freak_Like_Me_Episode_5/
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Cuts are nuts? So is kicking the shit out of a window.
Pretty iconic image, isn't it?
People assume that, as a student, I would be marching behind these people, waving my placard just as passionately as everyone else. And don't get me wrong, I completely agree with the cause. Like thousands of others, I'm feeling pretty conned by Nick Clegg and his pledge to keep student fees down. To be honest, that was the precise reason I voted for him, and the most profound among the myriad other reasons I didn't vote Conservative. And I don't for a second believe that this was something out of Clegg's control. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he agreed to a coalition with the Tory's. After all, he'd been so avidly campaigning against their manifestos for months.
But what I want to make very clear is that I don't want people to think that this balaclava-donning, window-smashing army are speaking on behalf of me. By all means, go, stand up and make your voices heard. But whatever happened to a peaceful protest? The government aren't going to want to put that behaviour through University. They'll take one look at the carnage caused and think more along the lines of high security than higher education. The magnitude of the destruction will completely outweigh the reason why people gathered in their thousands in the first place. The media coverage will solely focus on the violence and unrest, and a few months down the line people will have completely forgotten why we were so angry.
So yeah, well done. Any chance we had to fight rising tuition fees shattered when those boots hit that window.
Saturday, 6 November 2010
I haven't blogged since the eurovision song contest.
But I am still alive, still well and still not getting the whole 'Twilight' thing.
I'll admit that most of June was frittered away watching re-runs of Come Dine With Me, but I've actually had a pretty busy few months.
1. I went on holiday to Ayia Napa where I learnt that sambuca is really not my friend.
2. I also learned that just because it happened on The Hangover, my dentist friend isn't willing to extract her own tooth in exchange for a pretty questionable chicken burger. Cop out.
3. I jumped off the top of a two storey boat into the sea. Even though I'm scared of heights. And the sea. All to catch a can of stella. Lad.
4. I learnt that my friend thought a kestrel was somebody who plays the guitar. I don't even know how she gets these ideas into her head, because I'm pretty sure nobody will ever have told her this.
5. I found out that McDonalds now do weddings. FINALLY. "Chicken burger, McFlurry and some holy matrimony, please."
6. I applied to be on the Million Pound Drop with my housemate. We've already mentally spent our winnings.
7. I got a job at a summer camp, which was really fun. But I've always thought that facepainting is pretty straightforward. Yeah? Oh, no. I almost reduced a child to tears because of my incredibly sub-par attempt at painting her face like a monster.
8. I made a pledge to myself that I would do more exercise, went for ONE run, got 10 minutes down the road before hobbling home with a massive stitch. Pretty much the next Usain Bolt.
9. I fulfilled one of my lifelong dreams and managed to do the worm. Well, I almost broke my face but the worm definitely happened.
10. I broke the world record for the biggest game of musical bumps at Bestival 2010. Well, not me personally. That would be a very small game.
11. Me and my housemates filled our lounge with 99 red balloons and danced in them like that scene on Scrubs. You know, for a treat.
12. I found out that the dubstep remix of the Pokemon theme tune is a real thing.
13. I relived my childhood at London Science Museum. Seriously, why don't I live there?
14. I found out that my brothers quite the local crim. Getting a taxi home with him from town, our taxi driver starts going on about a house party he had when he was younger where some random boys threw the entire contents of his freezer in the garden and stole his shoes. My brother goes very quiet, before miming to me "Oh my God, that was me." Very awkward taxi ride.
15. I discovered eating a kilo of gummy bears is no big deal.
I'll admit that most of June was frittered away watching re-runs of Come Dine With Me, but I've actually had a pretty busy few months.
1. I went on holiday to Ayia Napa where I learnt that sambuca is really not my friend.
2. I also learned that just because it happened on The Hangover, my dentist friend isn't willing to extract her own tooth in exchange for a pretty questionable chicken burger. Cop out.
3. I jumped off the top of a two storey boat into the sea. Even though I'm scared of heights. And the sea. All to catch a can of stella. Lad.
4. I learnt that my friend thought a kestrel was somebody who plays the guitar. I don't even know how she gets these ideas into her head, because I'm pretty sure nobody will ever have told her this.
5. I found out that McDonalds now do weddings. FINALLY. "Chicken burger, McFlurry and some holy matrimony, please."
6. I applied to be on the Million Pound Drop with my housemate. We've already mentally spent our winnings.
7. I got a job at a summer camp, which was really fun. But I've always thought that facepainting is pretty straightforward. Yeah? Oh, no. I almost reduced a child to tears because of my incredibly sub-par attempt at painting her face like a monster.
8. I made a pledge to myself that I would do more exercise, went for ONE run, got 10 minutes down the road before hobbling home with a massive stitch. Pretty much the next Usain Bolt.
9. I fulfilled one of my lifelong dreams and managed to do the worm. Well, I almost broke my face but the worm definitely happened.
10. I broke the world record for the biggest game of musical bumps at Bestival 2010. Well, not me personally. That would be a very small game.
11. Me and my housemates filled our lounge with 99 red balloons and danced in them like that scene on Scrubs. You know, for a treat.
12. I found out that the dubstep remix of the Pokemon theme tune is a real thing.
13. I relived my childhood at London Science Museum. Seriously, why don't I live there?
14. I found out that my brothers quite the local crim. Getting a taxi home with him from town, our taxi driver starts going on about a house party he had when he was younger where some random boys threw the entire contents of his freezer in the garden and stole his shoes. My brother goes very quiet, before miming to me "Oh my God, that was me." Very awkward taxi ride.
15. I discovered eating a kilo of gummy bears is no big deal.
Monday, 7 June 2010
You know that classic hypothetical question?
If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Mine is totally this.
Genius.
Mine is totally this.
Genius.
Hero of the week.
http://www.deargirlsaboveme.com/
To be honest, I'm normally following the rest of the world at a frantic pace due to my constant being 3 or 4 months out of sync with everyone else's lives, so most of you have probably already discovered this gem, but if not, it's one of the funniest things I've read in while. Basic plot: two annoying girls have moved into the flat above this guy, and he blogs everything he is longing to say to them. This got me thinking about all those times you just WISH you could say something to certain frustrating individuals; when you think of a verbal smackdown so succinct and cutting, a comeback that Dr Cox himself would be proud of, that it destroys you a little bit that you don't say it all in the name of keeping the peace. So, I decided to write my own little notes. Not so much Dear Girls Above Me, more Dear General Douchebags.
Dear Old Woman I Saw In Accessorize,
"Are you going to say thank you?" Well, seeing as I held the door open for YOU, I doubt it. Your walking through said door has not really benefited my life in any way.
Dear Girl On The Bus,
"Are wolves real, Babe?" Literally too stupid to insult. It's yes by the way, despite what your wotsit-complexioned friend told you.
Dear Facebook Friend,
Your status the other day? You know the one: "going to proove to every1 dat im not stupid!". How ironic.
Dear 16 Year Old At The Ice Rink,
Trying to push girls over and stealing their possessions is not actually a successful seduction tactic. Can I recommend polite conversation?
Dear Boy Singing Outside My Window,
You have a lovely voice. I have an exam tomorrow. I don't think this relationship is going to work out.
Dear Whoever Invented Exams,
I speak on behalf of the entire student population when I say you deserve to be roundhouse kicked in the face. By somebody wearing steel toe boots.
Dear Go Compare Man,
I pray every day that you develop severe laryngitis.
Dear Liver,
I'm so sorry. For my entire freshers year. You've been a trooper, I promise to let you have a rest soon.
Dear Preggers,
I enjoyed the irony when I overheard you saying you were struggling with Farmville because your crops weren't fertile. Clearly, the same can't be said for you.
To be honest, I'm normally following the rest of the world at a frantic pace due to my constant being 3 or 4 months out of sync with everyone else's lives, so most of you have probably already discovered this gem, but if not, it's one of the funniest things I've read in while. Basic plot: two annoying girls have moved into the flat above this guy, and he blogs everything he is longing to say to them. This got me thinking about all those times you just WISH you could say something to certain frustrating individuals; when you think of a verbal smackdown so succinct and cutting, a comeback that Dr Cox himself would be proud of, that it destroys you a little bit that you don't say it all in the name of keeping the peace. So, I decided to write my own little notes. Not so much Dear Girls Above Me, more Dear General Douchebags.
Dear Old Woman I Saw In Accessorize,
"Are you going to say thank you?" Well, seeing as I held the door open for YOU, I doubt it. Your walking through said door has not really benefited my life in any way.
Dear Girl On The Bus,
"Are wolves real, Babe?" Literally too stupid to insult. It's yes by the way, despite what your wotsit-complexioned friend told you.
Dear Facebook Friend,
Your status the other day? You know the one: "going to proove to every1 dat im not stupid!". How ironic.
Dear 16 Year Old At The Ice Rink,
Trying to push girls over and stealing their possessions is not actually a successful seduction tactic. Can I recommend polite conversation?
Dear Boy Singing Outside My Window,
You have a lovely voice. I have an exam tomorrow. I don't think this relationship is going to work out.
Dear Whoever Invented Exams,
I speak on behalf of the entire student population when I say you deserve to be roundhouse kicked in the face. By somebody wearing steel toe boots.
Dear Go Compare Man,
I pray every day that you develop severe laryngitis.
Dear Liver,
I'm so sorry. For my entire freshers year. You've been a trooper, I promise to let you have a rest soon.
Dear Preggers,
I enjoyed the irony when I overheard you saying you were struggling with Farmville because your crops weren't fertile. Clearly, the same can't be said for you.
I think the world would be a better place...
...if we all took a leaf out of Holly Golightly's book.
It seems to me that glamour is not a timeless concept. In contrast to popular culture claims, diamonds are not forever. And while I applaud the fearless fashion flag that the women of 2010 are flying, I think the ageless elegance of past decades has been pushed to the back of a dusty shelf somewhere in the chaotic and cacophonous wardrobe of today. The noughties rewrote glamour to connote some half naked, half silicone Barbie we'd see on Page 3 of The Sun. Think of the virtual flawlessness of the women of the 1920s, 30s and 40s and there is no contest. These are the women who would not leave the house until every stand of hair was in place, every eyelash was coated in mascara and the omnipresent red lipstick had painted the perfect pout. Ironically, the true expression of timelessness has seemingly expired. I'd love to see some of the elegance of these decades make a comeback, but, controversially, without the 'modern twist' we insist of spinning on so many vintage looks. Its the age old "if it ain't broke" dynamic; in my eyes, 1920s, 30s and 40s fashion was perfect. It embodies the very essence of glamour. And while I'm not saying girls today don't emit elegance, I think it was done on a different level, and in a different way back in the day. The face of fashion today is so chaotic, with designers scrambling to send something fresh and exciting down the runway, that we are overlooking the fact that we have proven-to-work formulas written in our style past, just waiting to be unleashed on the modern world.
It seems to me that glamour is not a timeless concept. In contrast to popular culture claims, diamonds are not forever. And while I applaud the fearless fashion flag that the women of 2010 are flying, I think the ageless elegance of past decades has been pushed to the back of a dusty shelf somewhere in the chaotic and cacophonous wardrobe of today. The noughties rewrote glamour to connote some half naked, half silicone Barbie we'd see on Page 3 of The Sun. Think of the virtual flawlessness of the women of the 1920s, 30s and 40s and there is no contest. These are the women who would not leave the house until every stand of hair was in place, every eyelash was coated in mascara and the omnipresent red lipstick had painted the perfect pout. Ironically, the true expression of timelessness has seemingly expired. I'd love to see some of the elegance of these decades make a comeback, but, controversially, without the 'modern twist' we insist of spinning on so many vintage looks. Its the age old "if it ain't broke" dynamic; in my eyes, 1920s, 30s and 40s fashion was perfect. It embodies the very essence of glamour. And while I'm not saying girls today don't emit elegance, I think it was done on a different level, and in a different way back in the day. The face of fashion today is so chaotic, with designers scrambling to send something fresh and exciting down the runway, that we are overlooking the fact that we have proven-to-work formulas written in our style past, just waiting to be unleashed on the modern world.
Friday, 21 May 2010
Getting a bit of perspective.
So I was massively stressing about revision, and the ever growing pile of frantically highlighted notes that seem to be taking over my room. Then I started thinking about Jerry Springer, and I realised there are people who are a lot worse off. Some people have no idea who their baby daddy is, for example.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
I've just had a massive epiphany
I have no idea why I social network. Seriously, I know its nice to have a little nose. And the amount of scandal that goes down on that news feed is hard to argue with. But is a little bit of mindless online stalking really worth putting up with an annoyance of epic proportions. I am referring, of course, to the archetypal Facebook douchebag. I've been thinking, I might be a bit more choosy with who I accept as a friend. Maybe that way, I'll avoid things like this (seriously, if you've answered 'yes' to one or more of the following, please don't add me. or anyone. just, stay off the internet):
1. People who put song lyrics in their status. Especially anything remotely resembling Coldplay. You might think it makes you sound all deep and meaningful, but its just embarrassing for all involved.
2. One word: Farmville. When will it stop dicking all over my newsfeed? There is literally nothing in the world I care less about than how your imaginary wheat is harvesting on your imaginary farm. And I will never send you the 'free gift of an apple tree', so stop asking.
3. The generic 'I hate my life' status update. Especially when followed by 'I don't wanna talk about it.' Well, the trick there is probably to keep your problems (and I use this term very loosely) off the internet. This is precisely the reason that Facebook NEEDS to introduce a 'nobody gives a shit' button.
4. Anybody who writes the following in their 'about me' section: "I'm like Marmite, you either love me or you hate me". Seriously, I don't even mind Marmite, but saying that will definitely make me hate you. These are the same kind of people who wear kooky hats, and make it their 'thing' to hide the fact that they have absolutely no personality. Everyone's like "Oh yeah. I know John, always wears that hat." Have you ever properly spoken to this John character? My guess? Not so much going on upstairs.
5. Quite a lot of people don't fully understand what the word fan means. Generally it means to like and support something. So, why then, is my homepage plagued with people 'becoming a fan' of ridiculously cringe groups like 'I wish I could erase you from my life.' You're a FAN of that feeling are you? You LIKE it? Really?
6. Facebook can be a bit of a sarky twat sometimes. Like, my Mum just joined 2010 and got on board, so she's got about 15 friends at the minute. The other day, a little message popped up saying she 'ONLY has 15 friends'. God, rub in why don't you?
7. So. many. spelling. mistakes.
8. People who take photos of how much alcohol they've drank like it warrants some sort of medal.
9. Similar to number 4, but people who's 'about me' section contains the phrase "I always say what's on my mind." Yeah, that doesn't make you 'real', it actually makes you a sociopath.
10. People who put involve their middle names in their user name. Or even worse, some shit little nickname, like Joe 'Nutter' Bloggs, that they are under the impression everyone calls them . In reality, it's probably more like that episode of Friends when Ross tries to make everyone call him 'The Ross-a-tron' and nobody does and its really awkward.
11. People getting all mental because somebody denied their friend request. Look, just calm down, realise its only Facebook and just move on with your life.
12. 9 year old joining groups such as 'I FORT HE LUVED ME BUT HE JST BROKE MY HART'.Come on, go and listen to some Justin Bieber and get over it.
All this douchery aside though, Facebook can be a source of comedy gold. Have you ever been on Lamebook.com? Seriously, go on it. Right now. It's dedicated to all the massive fails ever to grace our newsfeeds, and it single handedly ruining my chances of ever getting a degree. Amazing.
1. People who put song lyrics in their status. Especially anything remotely resembling Coldplay. You might think it makes you sound all deep and meaningful, but its just embarrassing for all involved.
2. One word: Farmville. When will it stop dicking all over my newsfeed? There is literally nothing in the world I care less about than how your imaginary wheat is harvesting on your imaginary farm. And I will never send you the 'free gift of an apple tree', so stop asking.
3. The generic 'I hate my life' status update. Especially when followed by 'I don't wanna talk about it.' Well, the trick there is probably to keep your problems (and I use this term very loosely) off the internet. This is precisely the reason that Facebook NEEDS to introduce a 'nobody gives a shit' button.
4. Anybody who writes the following in their 'about me' section: "I'm like Marmite, you either love me or you hate me". Seriously, I don't even mind Marmite, but saying that will definitely make me hate you. These are the same kind of people who wear kooky hats, and make it their 'thing' to hide the fact that they have absolutely no personality. Everyone's like "Oh yeah. I know John, always wears that hat." Have you ever properly spoken to this John character? My guess? Not so much going on upstairs.
5. Quite a lot of people don't fully understand what the word fan means. Generally it means to like and support something. So, why then, is my homepage plagued with people 'becoming a fan' of ridiculously cringe groups like 'I wish I could erase you from my life.' You're a FAN of that feeling are you? You LIKE it? Really?
6. Facebook can be a bit of a sarky twat sometimes. Like, my Mum just joined 2010 and got on board, so she's got about 15 friends at the minute. The other day, a little message popped up saying she 'ONLY has 15 friends'. God, rub in why don't you?
7. So. many. spelling. mistakes.
8. People who take photos of how much alcohol they've drank like it warrants some sort of medal.
9. Similar to number 4, but people who's 'about me' section contains the phrase "I always say what's on my mind." Yeah, that doesn't make you 'real', it actually makes you a sociopath.
10. People who put involve their middle names in their user name. Or even worse, some shit little nickname, like Joe 'Nutter' Bloggs, that they are under the impression everyone calls them . In reality, it's probably more like that episode of Friends when Ross tries to make everyone call him 'The Ross-a-tron' and nobody does and its really awkward.
11. People getting all mental because somebody denied their friend request. Look, just calm down, realise its only Facebook and just move on with your life.
12. 9 year old joining groups such as 'I FORT HE LUVED ME BUT HE JST BROKE MY HART'.Come on, go and listen to some Justin Bieber and get over it.
All this douchery aside though, Facebook can be a source of comedy gold. Have you ever been on Lamebook.com? Seriously, go on it. Right now. It's dedicated to all the massive fails ever to grace our newsfeeds, and it single handedly ruining my chances of ever getting a degree. Amazing.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Do we really trust a man who looks this much like a slice of ham to run the country?
seriously, it's uncanny.
Friday, 23 April 2010
So I saw this thing on TV, right?
It was about offensive jokes, and how far people go to get a laugh. This is always been a bit of a polarising issue. You've got team "nothing is 'too risqué' when it comes to comedy", then there's team "too far". But I was thinking, we can hardly take the moral high ground when we obviously enjoy a below-the-belt joke or two. I mean, someone must be laughing, otherwise comedians wouldn't bother. Life's full of shenanigans that are more that suitable to crack a joke about, so what it is about the dodgy territory that really gets us?
Here's my theory: it's the age old "I was just saying what you were all thinking" dynamic. When it comes to punchlines that makes us cringe, I reckon we laugh out of nervousness, in a "did I just hear that right? way, a little bit shock and because most of the time, they shed a little light on topics that we wouldn't have the guts to joke about. The one thing that pisses me off though, is when people are just offensive for the sake of it. Those kinda people are like Jedward; unnecessary and the opposite of amusing. I personally think comedy has to be clever for it to work. People say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but have they forgotten about 'your mum' jokes? So simple. So unfunny.
Well anyway, my point, in a roundabout way, is that in the big pie chart of life, the proportion of serious to satire is way off. We need people to spin a little light-heartedness on things. Besides, maybe people will stop being offensive when we stop laughing at it?
Did you know as well, laughing for 15 seconds adds 2 days to your life span? Can't argue with that.
Here's my theory: it's the age old "I was just saying what you were all thinking" dynamic. When it comes to punchlines that makes us cringe, I reckon we laugh out of nervousness, in a "did I just hear that right? way, a little bit shock and because most of the time, they shed a little light on topics that we wouldn't have the guts to joke about. The one thing that pisses me off though, is when people are just offensive for the sake of it. Those kinda people are like Jedward; unnecessary and the opposite of amusing. I personally think comedy has to be clever for it to work. People say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but have they forgotten about 'your mum' jokes? So simple. So unfunny.
Well anyway, my point, in a roundabout way, is that in the big pie chart of life, the proportion of serious to satire is way off. We need people to spin a little light-heartedness on things. Besides, maybe people will stop being offensive when we stop laughing at it?
Did you know as well, laughing for 15 seconds adds 2 days to your life span? Can't argue with that.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Dragons denning this shit.
My Mum had one of those moments earlier, like all Mums do where they just get things completely wrong. But Mama C's little senior-citizen glitch actually turned out to be a massive stroke of genius. My Brother was on about buying a morph suit (you know, those creepy lycra suits that cover your whole body? kinda like if the blue man group decided to partake in a cheeky bit of bank robbery), but she thought he was talking about buying a suit made out of the inflatable stuff you use in zorbing.
which made me think, the sooner zorb suits are invented, the sooner my life will become exponentially better.
gone are the days of waiting approximately 3 days for a rickety bus, which smells strangely like burger king and that stale smell which lingers after a house party, where 9 year olds play shit music at the back of and crazy people seek you out like some kind of missile, despite the fact there are hundreds (ok, 5's and 5's) of other seats.
you could just whack on your zorb suit and roll.
amazing.
duncan bannatyne is going to love it.
which made me think, the sooner zorb suits are invented, the sooner my life will become exponentially better.
gone are the days of waiting approximately 3 days for a rickety bus, which smells strangely like burger king and that stale smell which lingers after a house party, where 9 year olds play shit music at the back of and crazy people seek you out like some kind of missile, despite the fact there are hundreds (ok, 5's and 5's) of other seats.
you could just whack on your zorb suit and roll.
amazing.
duncan bannatyne is going to love it.
Losing the blog-ginity
So basically, I've recently started a Journalism course at uni. Well OK, not that recently. Six months ago to be exact. But my grasp of recent is pretty loose. To me, 'the other day' could be anything from today to 5 years ago. Also, I've well and truly conformed to the student stererotype and spent the last six months in one of three states:
i) Inebriated.
ii) Sleeping off effects of said inebriation.
iii) In a pro-plus enduced frenzy, desparately cramming some last minute revision.
Anyway, now I'm home for Easter, and i've decided to try my hand at this blogging malarky. I promise I will try and take my time out of my busy napping and super-noodle consuming schedule (god, i am such a cliche of a student) to update it with tales of my shenanigans, pondering the big issues in life (such as why do you never see baby pigeons? seriously.) and other things taking up my brain space.
I guess this isn't the best day to start a blog. I've done pretty much nothing. Well, that's a lie, i thought about going for a run, which is basically the same as going for one. It didn't really happen though, the con's outweighed the pro's in the end, the con's being it is raining and i don't want to go and i run like a twat, the pro's being...hmm. I've been surgically attatched to the laptop for the last few days trying to get me some work experience, which is about as easy as cracking the davinci code. I've written a few fashion articles that I'm hoping to send to a few magazines in the next few weeks. Yes, I am a member of the growing would-be Suzy Menkes army, but I can't help it. I just really want to be a fashion journalist. Ick. Hello shameless self promotion.
I had a bit of a mid-teen crisis, for want of a less cheesy phrase, this week. Had a major freak out about my course, and whether I was going to end up where I want to be at the end of it. I've never been unsure about what I want to do or how i'm going to do it before, so the fact that in two years time i'm going to be thrown into a highly competitive industry at the oh-so deep end scared me a bit. A lot. So I started looking at a few other options, mainly speech therapy. My best friends reactions were not that reassuring, namely "hahahaha Erin, you couldn't be a speech therapist, you're way too mean". Beautiful. But psychology has always been my back up, and speech therapy looked right up my street. But after a LOT of to'ing and fro'ing, frantic googling and chats with the muvs, I decided I was being a douche, and I needed to stop worrying about whether I'll get a job or not and just enjoy my course. I've wanted to be a journalist for as long as I can remember, theres no point in backing out just because I don't have guaranteed access to the bottom rung of the career ladder when i graduate. Who does? And at least I have speech therapy as a fully fledged plan B.
Sorted.
Anyway, I have lots of pressing matters to attend to.
I think Ricky Lake might be on.
i) Inebriated.
ii) Sleeping off effects of said inebriation.
iii) In a pro-plus enduced frenzy, desparately cramming some last minute revision.
Anyway, now I'm home for Easter, and i've decided to try my hand at this blogging malarky. I promise I will try and take my time out of my busy napping and super-noodle consuming schedule (god, i am such a cliche of a student) to update it with tales of my shenanigans, pondering the big issues in life (such as why do you never see baby pigeons? seriously.) and other things taking up my brain space.
I guess this isn't the best day to start a blog. I've done pretty much nothing. Well, that's a lie, i thought about going for a run, which is basically the same as going for one. It didn't really happen though, the con's outweighed the pro's in the end, the con's being it is raining and i don't want to go and i run like a twat, the pro's being...hmm. I've been surgically attatched to the laptop for the last few days trying to get me some work experience, which is about as easy as cracking the davinci code. I've written a few fashion articles that I'm hoping to send to a few magazines in the next few weeks. Yes, I am a member of the growing would-be Suzy Menkes army, but I can't help it. I just really want to be a fashion journalist. Ick. Hello shameless self promotion.
I had a bit of a mid-teen crisis, for want of a less cheesy phrase, this week. Had a major freak out about my course, and whether I was going to end up where I want to be at the end of it. I've never been unsure about what I want to do or how i'm going to do it before, so the fact that in two years time i'm going to be thrown into a highly competitive industry at the oh-so deep end scared me a bit. A lot. So I started looking at a few other options, mainly speech therapy. My best friends reactions were not that reassuring, namely "hahahaha Erin, you couldn't be a speech therapist, you're way too mean". Beautiful. But psychology has always been my back up, and speech therapy looked right up my street. But after a LOT of to'ing and fro'ing, frantic googling and chats with the muvs, I decided I was being a douche, and I needed to stop worrying about whether I'll get a job or not and just enjoy my course. I've wanted to be a journalist for as long as I can remember, theres no point in backing out just because I don't have guaranteed access to the bottom rung of the career ladder when i graduate. Who does? And at least I have speech therapy as a fully fledged plan B.
Sorted.
Anyway, I have lots of pressing matters to attend to.
I think Ricky Lake might be on.
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