Is she a woman, or a guppy???

Is anyone else at all distressed that a mother of 6 children (ages 2-7, which means she didn't get her period for 5 years) felt the need to have fertility treatment? Am I the only one who thinks that's crazy?

1. I SERIOUSLY hope her health insurance didn't pay for that fertility treatment
2. What on earth makes her think she's capable of looking after 6 kids AND 8 infants at the same time, while her husband is on duty in Iraq no less???
3. Why would anyone want that many kids? I can understand having 14 kids in the grand old days before birth control. You either had to accept that you'll be a baby machine or give up having sex with your husband for the rest of your life. I know what I would have chosen. But this is the 21st century people! You no longer have to make that choice. Wake up and smell The Pill!

8 babies. That's not a family, it's a LITTER. It's dangerous (for the mother and the kids), it's irresponsible and puts an unfair drain on social service programs and the medical system (at the end of the day, whether she's on medicare and wellfare or and employed adult with health coverage, it's still the rest of us who are picking up the tab for this woman's personal attempt to populate the planet with her own spawn), and it's not fair on the rest of her kids, who will now be completely ignored until the 8 babies are all out of diapers.

Am I the only one who thinks this is nuts?

Thank you, NRA

Keep up the good work.

Historic

While the last bricks of a long-held, deep-seeded American bigotry were being pulled down in Tuesday's historic election,

a new one

rears

it's ugly, ugly head.

I'm absolutely thrilled that America finally decided a black child can have the same dreams of growing up to be president as a white child. I'm utterly appalled that a lot of those same people think they get a say in who people marry.

Eighteen THOUSAND couples in California who got married this summer, thanks to the acknowledgment of their rights by the CA legislature and supreme court, have just been told that their marriages aren't valid. That despite the licenses, vows, parties, and cakes, they are no longer married, because of a bunch of bigots decided so.

I can't imagine how I would feel if someone came a long and told me that I was no longer married to Pirate. That for some reason the public disapproved, and without my consent, invalidated my marriage.

I think I would kill myself.

What happened today in California is utterly despicable.

Today I'm thrilled for Obama, but I'm still weeping for the state of civil rights in America. Congratulations, African-Americans, you're officially off the bottom rung of the latter. You've been replaced by a deeper loathing of gays.

Fringe Bingo

After last year's storming success, Pirate and I decided to go back to the Fringe this year. It's not a cheap 3 days, but is seriously good fun. There is loads to see, but inevitably there are dead spots during the evening when you are between shows, have already eaten dinner, and need to kill an hour when the museums and galleries are closed. This is where the real Fringe entertainment happens.

The Edinburgh Fringe is, no doubt, one of the best places for people-watching on the planet outside of NYC. There is some serious variety, and some proper weirdos.

But Pirate and I, being competitive by nature, found a way to make people-watching a contest. Enter Fringe Bingo, stage left. Plonk yourselves outside a pub or cafe' on the Royal Mile, pull out your FB cards, and go to town. I have provided a sample card below. (Obviously if you are going to play you need to print out 2 copies, but cut one up and rearrange the squares to make the second copy.)


From the Fringe veterans I would love to hear your suggestions for adding to the card for next year.

Just because it's football doesn't make it OK

I arrived home yesterday evening from Salisbury to find Bristol in an uproar -- riots in the streets. There were dozens of people screaming, shouting, chanting, cars incessantly honking horns. I had no idea what was going on.

I arrived at my flat and phoned the police. The 999 operator said "is your life in immediate danger?"
"No" I said.
She hung up.

There are plenty of legitimate reasons for phoning the police when one's life is not in immediate danger!

So I looked up the non-emergency number on the web and spoke with a constible. I explained that I was afraid to leave my flat again, and that from my window I could hear the shouting and chanting and horns and the noise was a significant disturbance of the peace, and asked them to intervene.

"It's just the football," he said. "They're just celebrating. We don't want to spoil their fun."

???

If I threw a party for some -- any -- reason and caused that kind of disturbance the police would surely have broken it up. How come it's acceptible if it's football?



*grumble grumble*

another fucking sleepless night.

I am SO sick of this bleeding city.

Everyone's an expert

If you suffer from back pain or have recently given birth, you've no doubt experienced this phenomenon: everyone, absolutely bloody everyone, has an opinion on your condition (or how you should be raising your baby), and they are all convinced that there opinions are more correct than the countless medical professionals you've been seeing. And then they get pissy when you ignore them or tell them to mind their own beeswax.

And before you get all huffy, this isn't just about unsolicited advice in the comments box, it's about every fucking person I meet who feels they have to give me their 2 cents worth, and then by way of legal disclaimer, point out that if I ignore their advice and suffer a re-injury that it's my own fucking fault and all sympathy goes out the window. That's my favorite part. The old "if you don't do as I (random person who's never met me and has no medical qualifications) say you'll suffer for it and it will be your fault for not taking my advice, which is obviously so much better than everyone elses!"

So for the benefit of anyone else out there thinking of telling me exactly what I'm doing wrong regarding my back:

1. I'm not doing nothing about it. After regular physical therapy, pilates, and an on-going course of chirpractic therapy and daily exercise and stretching I am at a point that I could live a completely normal life with only a few tiny adjustments (such as not carrying a heavy grocery bag in one hand, but using 2 lighter ones to balance the load instead).
2. I know problems don't clear up overnight (how could I not???), but symptoms sometimes do.
3. If any medical professional, at any time had ever said to me "if you go back to rowing you'll damage your back forever and i strongly advise against any further rowing or sculling" I would have taken that very seriously indeed. But every medical pro I have seen has strongly advised me to continue!!!!
4. This is because of the nature of my injury. I have a degenerate disk. That means one of my spinal disks has no fluid in it. The fluid is what makes the disk firm. Now it's wilted and soggy and cannot, on it's own, maintain the proper spacing between the vertebrae (L4 and L5, specifically). "On it's own" means that I need my core muscles to compensate by holding my spine up properly. Rowing is an excellent core-strengthening exercise, and keeps a lot of movement in the back. I've now had 2 professionals tell me that the best thing I can do for my back is keep rowing.
5. Of course I have considered the problem of pregnancy and child-rearing, and asked my doctor and my chiropractor about it. They both said that I will likely suffer fewer back back problems during pregnancy than the average woman for the very reason that I'm doing so much to strengthen my back and my core now. As for babies, same rules for lifting heavy objects apply.

Anyone else have any advice for me? Thought so.

Suburban, white hypocrisy

Continuing with the theme of racism from over at Q.E., have a look at this article from the BBC website about the sub-prime lending fiasco over in the states that's mucking up the world's finacial markets:

Shrewd Lenders Spark US Mortgage Chaos

Scroll down a bit and you'll find a quote from a journalist at the Milwaukee Sentinal Journal, the city's major newspaper, explaining just how serious the problem has become:

"This is not a poor, black, or Hispanic thing," explains Michelle Derus from the Milwaukee Sentinel Journal, who has been following the growth of sub-prime loans for more than two years. "This is a suburban white problem."

You can almost hear her add "so we know it's gotten really serious."


The thing is, I bet you a million bucks that if you asked this woman she would swear she's not racist. Yet here she is explicitly stating that because a problem has spread from the black and Hispanic communities into the white middle-classes, it is a serious problem. She is using the concept of white people suffering synonymously with significant suffering. Clearly if the problem had remained a black and Hispanic problem she wouldn't be bothered.

Do not make excuses for this woman. This is a racist statement born of a racist mind, and anyone who fails to observe the blatant racism contained therein is equally racist. The fact that so few Americans will observe this is proof of how far we have to go to overcome racism.

Don't ever let anyone tell you the battle is won.

Listen up, my bearded and veily freinds!

For a little light weekend reading, here's an (unoffical - i typed it myself) transcript of a portion BBC Radio 4's 'Now Show," which first aired last friday, 20 July 2007. It's a commentary by Marcus Brigstock, a scathing and hilarious endictment of organized religion. Prepare to be hugely offended and laugh your arse off:


"I'd like to start this week with a request, and this one goes out to the followers of the three Abrahamic religions: the Muslims, Christians, and Jews. It's just a little thing, really, but do you think that when you've finished smashing up the world and blowing each other to bits and demanding special privledges while you do it, do you think that maybe the rest of us could sort of have our planet back? I wouldn't ask, but I'm starting to think that there must be something written in the special books that each of you so enjoy referring to that it's ok to behave like special, petulent, pugnacious, pricks. Forgive the alliteration, but your persistent, power-mad punch-ups are pissing me off. It's mainly the extremists obviously, but not exlclusively. It's a lot of 'main-streamers' as well. Let me give you an example of what I'm talking about.

Muslims: listen up my bearded and veily friends! Calm down, ok? Stop blowing stuff up. Not everything that said about you is an attack on the prophet Mohammed and Allah that needs to end in the infidel being destroyed. Have a cup of tea, put on a Cat Stevens record, sit down and chill out. I mean seriously, what's wrong with a strongly-worded letter to The Times?

Christians: you and your churches don't get to be millionairs while other people have nothing at all. They're your bloody rules; either stick to them or abandon the faith. And stop persecuting and killing people you judge to be immoral. Oh, and stop pretending you're celibate -- it's a cover-up for being a gay or a nonce. Right, that's two ticked off.

Jews! I know you're god's 'Chosen People' and the rest of us are just whatever, but when Israel behaves like a violent, psychopathic bully and someone mentions it that doesn't make them anitsemitic. And for the record, your troubled history is not a license to act with impunity now.

So, when the letters come (and I'm guessing they will), I can gaurantee that each one of those faiths will be conviced that I've singled them out for special criticism.

[In mock Arabic accent] Why did it have to be us? Islam is a peaceful faith!

[In upper class British accent] I don't see what's wrong with being Christian? We're a peaceful, loving faith.

[In affronted, huffy voice] How dare you after all we've been through! We Jews know how terrible violece can be.

You see, all of them will be convinced that they're the ones being picked on. The Abrahamic faiths are like scousers: they're always conviced they [in scouser accent} have it harder than everyone else.

And why is it that all of these faiths claim to be peaceful, when even a most fleeting glance at a history of warfare will tell you otherwise? The relationship between religion and warfare is very similar to the relationship between Ant and Deck: you could have one without the other, but I'm not sure anyone would see the point. I wouldn't actually like it, but it would be refreshing to hear one of them come out and say [in working class London accent] "Our faith's violent as you like. We love a scrap, us lot, we do. Our special book says 'fight fight smash maim murder kill fight fight.' That's why I signed up to be honest. I'm a bit naught, know what I mean?" But yet all of them claim to be peaceful religions. Yeah, peaceful right up to the point where someone takes something they think is theirs, or says the wrong thing or looks at them funny. Then it's fighty smashy kicky punchy all the way. I know this'll upset a lot of people and frankly I don't care. I'm getting so sick of religious people screwing it up for the rest of us.

Please don't kill us, seriously. As far as I'm concerned this is the only chance we get. When we die it's all over -- there's no virgins and pearly gates waiting for us, no big, beardy man saying [in deep, echoing voice and upper class accent] "Right, so how do you think that went, then? Killed a lot of people in my name I see. Not really what I had in mind. Um, tell you what, have another go as a worm."

While we're at it, I'm sick of religious people forcing their children to define themselves by their parents' faith. A four-year-old is no more a Christian than he is a member of the Postal Workers' union. [in child's voice] "We want a fair working wage, decent working conditions, and time allotted to see the new Transformers film."

This week Lydia Playfoot, who took Millay School in Horsham to the high court so she could wear jewelry to prove she's staying a virgin for Jesus, lost her case. Good. I'm glad. I don't care how many times her parents claim it was her idea, rules is rules, and if you want to wear a ring that tells everyone you're not having any sex you can get married like the rest of us. Now, the lawyer for the chaste Miss Playfoot said the question for the judge was 'What are the religious rights of school children in the school context?' Well, I'm no judge (not yet, anyway), but if you want my opinion, none. No rights. No religious rights whatsoever. Schools are for learning. If you want to have a little pray before maths so that Mr. Figures won't set too hard a test, or prevent the P.E. teacher from being a collossal pervert, then go head, fill your boots. If you want to pop on a feathered headdress and chant and dance and mumble and sacrifice something you can do that on your own time. (Or take a drama course, pretend it's art, and get a degree in it. That's what I did.) The lawyer, Mr. Diamond, argued "secular authorities cannot rule on religious truth." Hmm. Well, Mr. Diamond, I'm going to assume you're not related to Neil Diamond, becuase he rocks. Yes, I like Neil Diamond. And Prince. And I'm married -- go figure. But the point is "religious truth" is a foxy one, buecasue religion, by it's very nature, doesn't tend to concern itself with truth. There simply isn't time for truth. By the time all the singing and candle-lighting and toadying and condemning and hiding from science is done truth has given up and gone down to the pub for a pint. Here's the truth: faith is about as interested in truth as I am in hangning out with Anthony Warrel Thompson, ie, not very.

Now, I know that most relgious folk are moderate and reasonable and wear tidy jumpers and eat cheese, like real people. And on hearing this they'll mainly feel pity for me, rather than issue a death sentence. But they have to accept that they are the power base for the nutters. Without their passive support the loonies in charge of these faiths would just be loonies, safely locked away and medicated -- somewhere nice with a view of some trees where they can claim they have a direct channel to god between sessions making tapestry coasters, watching Teletubbies and talking about thier days in the Hitler Youth. The ordinary faithful make these viscious, tyrannical thugs what they are. See, I get angry that show like Celebrity and Big Brother and insert-title-of-wretched-show-here still fill our lives with vapid, pointless emptiness, and I wish the producers' development exectives would crawl back under the rocks they emerged from, but the truth is they sell stuff that people consume. Without the audience to prop it up, Heat magazine and fundamental religious fanatacism goes away. Imagine what humanity might be capable of if we had that much spare time! We could explore space properly, have decent look in the sea, find a cure for James Blunt, anything!

Thank you very much. Letters to the usual address."

It's not dogs I hate...

It's fucking arrogant dog owners who refuse to take responsibility for their canine's canines and insist "oh he's just being friendly!"

Friendly. My. ASS!!!!

yet again today I was accosted and terrorized by a dog that was not under the control of its owners. I was cycling along, minding my own fucking busines, when fido (a border collie mix by the look of him) came charging at me, full-tilt, and barking. Not joyful, tail-wagging, bark-bark let's play barking. More like get off my land you sheep-stealing sonofabitch barking. I have a dog; i do know the difference. The little furball jumped right in front of my front wheel, forcing me to grind to a sudden halt lest I leave tire tracks across his nose. I don't like running over dogs. As I said, it's not the dogs I hate, it's the owner. Believe it or not I really am a dog-lover.

The dog jumped all over me, still barking aggressively. His ears and tail were down. I screamed and yelled "help!" The owners, sitting under a tree about 20 feet away didn't even get up. "Come!" they called him. He came. "He just wanted to say 'hello,'" they told me. But they didn't aplogize, and they didn't hold on to the dog, because before I could begin pedalling away Spot came tearing at me a second time. "Put a leash on that thing!" I screamed before finally freeing myself and leaving.

You would think that dog owners would want to put their dogs on a leash for the sake of the dog's safety, never mind my own. but this hardly seems to be the case.

These people were in violation of the law. I looked it up. The Dangerous Dogs Act of 1991 states "A dog shall be regarded as dangerously out of control on any occasion on which there are grounds for reasonable apprehension that it will injure any person, whether or not it actually does so."

In this instance, as in many similar preceeding instances, I had very good reason to believe I was in danger of being harmed. There's nothing worse than dog owners who exclaim when their dogs misbehave "Oh he wouldn't hurt you!" Even if that is the case (which it's often not) I have no way of knowing that. As a passer-by I have no way of distinguishing between a neurotic and badly trained dog that likes to make a game of charging people and barking at them and a dog that is about to quickly and efficiently relieve me of my burdensome jugular vein.

Letting your dog menace people, even if it doesn't actucally physically harm them, IS against the law. But is this law enforced? How? What recouse do I have? What am I supposed to do in these situations? I'm not about to stand there and ask people for their names and details so I can have the local dog warden issue them a citation -- after all, they're the ones holding a dangerous dog. You think I'm going to exchange words with an annoyed pitbull owner? yeah, right. So what can I do? NOTHING.

There's not a fucking thing I can do. I'm the one who's been wronged, but there is nothing I can do about it. I can't complain, I can't fight back, and because pepper spray is illegal in this country, I can't even defend myself. I am totally at the mercy of stupid people with viscious, ill-trained dogs. Grrrrrrrr.

Moonlight sleeping on the midnight lake

Today I stopped to pet a cat.

There is nothing extraordinary about this. I often stop to pet other people's cats because mine died, leaving my life bereft of catness.

I sat down on the ground. I was wearing scrubby jeans, trainers, and a black fleece hoodie -- my usual goin' to the library, hanging out around campus comfy atire. The catness, a plump female tabby with a rather stumpy tail and agreeable disposition, was situated comfortably on the pavement next to me purring her approval of my finely-honed belly-rubbing technique.

A well-dressed gentleman with a John Steed-style brolly approached, looked down at me, and said, "Sorry, I don't have any change."

That's the second time this term I've been mistaken for homeless, I thought. "That's ok, mate," I told him. "I don't mind paper."

Bowling Etiquette

I discovered this weekend that the English, though world-renowned for being the most polite people on the planet, have absolutely no concept of bowling etiquette. This may be due to tenpin bowling being a relatively new phenomenon on this side of the pond.

Fortunately for you all, I have been bowling since I was about 7 and competing on leagues since I was 12. I will now give you the benefit of my years of experience and teach you all how to behave properly in a bowling alley. You're welcome.


Rule no. 1: Stay by your own lane.

If your party is using only one lane, and you are therefore sharing a ball return with another party, stay the fuck on your own side of the ball return. Do not run around the ball return playing 'Duck-Duck-Goose,' 'Ring-Around-the-Rosie' or any other such nonsense like a bunch of crazed lemurs on crystal meth.

Rule no. 2: Use only your own fucking ball.

It is profoundly rude to use someone else's ball, as it can be extremely difficult for some people to find a ball whose weight and finger size and spacing suit them. If you are sharing a ball-return with another party and you use a ball belonging to a member of that party, that person will be forced to wait for you to finish your frame before s/he can proceed. This seriously slows up the action for the other party, and they will HATE you and spend their waiting time making voodoo dolls of your children.

Rule no. 3: Rack your ball when you are finished playing.

Every bowling alley has ball-racks lining the walls that are filled with balls for the public use. Theoretically. At the alley where I bowled this weekend (Hollywood Bowl at Cribbs Causeway) the ball racks were completely empty. Every single ball in the alley was sitting on a ball-return, regardless of wether or not it was being used. It took us 20 minutes to find balls to use, during which time we had to interrupt and annoy countless people. So when you're done playing, for fuck's sake put your balls away. It's just like playing with toys at home: when you're done using it, put it back where it belongs. If you can't handle that, go back to kindergarten; your teacher will be happy to explain it.

Rule no. 4: Don't bowl if someone on a lane next to you is bowling.

If you see that a person on a lane next to you (either side) is preparing to bowl -- that is, standing in position, ball in hand, staring at the pins and lining up their shot -- wait. Wait until they've thrown their ball, and then go. It's not difficult. But throwing your ball as someone else is preparing to do the same is extremely distracting to the other person. Like talking when someone is golfing: you just don't do it. So when it's your turn, pick up your ball, look to your left and right, make sure no one is in the process of bowling on either side, and then proceed.

It may sound like doing this will make your game take twice as long, but really it doesn't. If everyone in the alley is abiding by this simple courtesy the alley naturally falls into a rhythm of even lanes bowl, then odd lanes, even lanes, and so on. It works. Trust me.

Finally,

(and this one's crucial),

Rule no. 5: Don't eat chips with mayonaise and then go sticking your slimey fingers in everyone else's balls.

This will lead to a shortened life-expectancy. I guarantee it.


There. Now that you all know how to behave civily in a bowling alley, you may go forth and enjoy the great game of bowling.

Why Nasty Stereotypes Can Be Good

or
Raising the Bar on Already Unattainable Standards of Beauty


An article over at GSE's prompted a discussion between my flatmate and I on the questionable ethics of elective cosmetic surgery (as opposed to reconstructive cosmetic surgery, which, I think everyone agrees, is kosher). The article is about an extremely unfortunate woman who has spent years of her life and nearly 200 thousand pounds in an attempt to make herself look like Barbie (c), the plastic doll from Mattel. This sad woman (that's sad in the sense of pathetic, not unhappy) has based her entire existance around the singlular premise that no one will love her unless she is beautiful; and not just any kind of beautiful, mind you, a specific kind of beautiful defined by a narrow and physically impossible formula, the basis for which is the aforementioned doll.

The woman, the self-described Real Life Barbie, views herself as an ambassador between beautiful and "ordinary" people. (Clearly ordinary people can't be beautiful.) Her goal is to eliminate the stigma surrounding people who elect to undergo cosmetic surgery and get them the "respect they deserve."

I have several problems with this. I don't think I need to pursuade pursuade people too much to point out that spending money on surgery is no more worthy of respect than spending it on any other luxury status symbol -- admiration, perhaps, but not respect. People, all people, are deserving of basic human respect, regardless of whether or not they are superficially beautiful (and when I say "beautiful" here, I use the word according to RLB's definition). Her comment seems to suggest that us "ordinary" people (her word), are less worthy of respect, a notion which is obviously bollox.

Even though her statement suggests that, I don't think that's what she means. I think she's trying to undo the stigma attached to people who have boob jobs and lipsuction and botox etc. Sure there's a stigma. I know when I am aware of a woman who's had botox or breast augmentation my first reaction is to roll my eyes. I make certain assumptions about her character, judgement, values, and personality. I assume such a woman is of weak character, that is, easily swayed by external influences such as media images, lacks the judgement to determine the most judicious use of her money, values appearance over substance, and is insecure and/or vain. Am I wrong?

Some would argue "yes," that it is precisely that stigma, those stereotypes and assumptions, which are detrimental to surgically "enhanced" people and society as a whole. RLB wants to eliminate these stereotypes so that more people feel free to have cosmetic surgery. And therein lies the danger.

I'm about to argue that some sterotypes, stigmas, perceptions, and social pressures can actually have a positive, normatizing effect on society.

First, lets imagine a world where RLB gets her wish: cosmetic surgery is the norm, every woman over the age of 16 has a D-cup, a 25-inch waist, no cellulite, and a pert little nose. No woman over 40 has any wrinkles, grey hairs, or the capability to express emotion through facial expressions thanks to botox and face-lifts. The horror of living in such a cookie-cutter world scares the crap out of me. Why would we all want to look the same? More importantly, why would we all want to look the way someone else decided was attractive??? On a fundamental level, that's what we're talking about: trying to squeeze ourselves into a mold of someone else's notion of how we should look.

"Yeah," you say, "but we already do that. It's just a matter of degrees. Women wear makeup, dye their hair, spend hours styling it, follow fashion trends like hounds behind a bleeding rabbit, wriggle themselves into body-shaping undergarments, shave their legs, arms, and often pubic hair, endanger their health on extreme diets, develop eating disorders, and all in the name of trying to look like a supermodel. Why is surgery any different?"

You're right, it is a matter of degrees. You're right about another thing: in many ways, surgery isn't much more extreme than many of the things we already do. That doesn't mean surgery is a good idea; it means that we should seriously consider curbing many of the things we already do!

By putting cosmetic surgery in the same category with makeup and shaving, you're adding it to the norm. You're including it in the things that every woman is pretty much expected to do in order to attract male attention. You're saying, "You're waxed, made-up, tressed and dressed. Great. Now do something about those tiny tits."

I've gone on before about how I thing shaving all your body hair to be sexually attractive is creepy, but that's not all. It's a fairly extreme measure. Think about it. It takes time, effort, money, and if you're a waxer, pain. Regular pain, every 4-6 weeks. That's more than just running a comb through your hair. That's pretty hard core when you think about it. And it considered normal. It's standard, expected. The men who are willing to tolerate pubic hair on a woman are few and far between (and, I suspect, mostly over the age of 40. For women of my generation, finding a mate who's happy to work through the fuzz to eat you out is nearly impossible.) Men willing to tolerate leg or underarm hair are beyond endangered, they're nearly extinct.

So what happens if we remove the social stigma from cosmetic surgery? We raise the already unattainable beauty bar that much higher. We add it to the list of standards. We de-value the rarity of the one-in-a-million Barbie build, and make it a requirement. In the same way that sending every Tom, Dick, and Harry to a cheap state university devalued Bachelor's degrees, thereby requiring everyone to get one just to stay in the game, if RLB gets her wish, we'll all have to be 36-25-40 just be considered not ugly.

I already resent the fact that I have to shave my legs and put on make-up to be considered not ugly. When I was lonely and dateless you wouldn't believe (or maybe you would) the number of people who told me I needed to "make more of an effort." I shudder to think that my daughter might have to grow up in world where making "a bit of an effort" starts with body-altering surgery.

What ever happened to variety, the spice of life? Glory be to God for dappled things, variation, and the differences that make us unique, wonderful, AND beautiful. Cosmetic surgery should not be admired, should not be a marker of respect, and should certainly not become the standard. But there is more you can do to help the cause than just rolling your eyes when you see a fake pair bounce past you on the street. Everything comes down to money (sadly), and the image of the Barbie body and the need for that kind of beauty is financially driven. So stop driving it. Don't support the image. Don't by glossy, celebrity mags where every page is a bunch of photos of semi-famous people surrounded by captions that do nothing more than offer approval or disapproval of the famous person's appearance. Don't put money in to the pockets of the media moguls who are doing everything they can to make you feel inferior just because you don't look like Paris Hilton. *shudder* Boycotts work, and if we all unite and say "fuck you" to the fashion, cosmetic, surgical, and Hollywood industries, wouldn't then the world be a nicer place?

Cultural Priorities

I've just come from Boots, where I purchased exactly two items: dental floss, and lubricant. I was astonished to discover that the cheapest dental floss available at Boots (their own "Smile" brand) cost MORE than the Boots brand lube.

Let me say that again: dental floss is more expensive than sex lube. Thus, lube is more accessible to the general populace.

Could this be why Britain has the highest teen pregnancy rate and worst oral hygeine in western Europe? I think we need to re-evaluate our cultural priorities.

Solidarity, people.

We are not powerless.

It's easy to despair, to think 'there's nothing I can do about it.' But we are not powerless, we are not helpess, and we are not alone.

This is the stuff they don't teach you in history class, how an army was defeated by poor, working-class familes, fighting with rubbish and old mattresses. How an army was brought to it's knees by schoolchildren. with marbles. This is the history they don't teach you in school.

Unnerswears

Why can't I buy sexy lingerie that's tasteful and isn't made for a 6-year-old? Why is this so difficult? Everything is all either neon pink plastic hollywood trashy crap that i wouldn't let my daughter wear even if she was a hooker, and the rest had fucking Disney characters on it! (well, not Disney characters engaged in the act of fornication, but you know what i mean.)

Why is it all either this:

























or this: (someone needs to explain to me how a grown woman dressing up in pastel-flowered cartoon character underwear is sexy. that Whinnie the Pooh bra just takes paedophilia to a whole new level as far as i'm concerned. making grown women look like pre-pubescent children is just creepy. like shaving your crotch.)










Why is there nothing in between!?!?!?!? mumph.

Becoming an Ex-Pat

For those of you who've been reading my blog from the beginning or nearly-so (Herebe, Sal, etc.), you know the story line of my life has unfolded roughly like this:
Chick is lonely
Chick whinges a lot
Chick wants to return to England.
Chick returns to England.
Chick finds man and falls in love.
Chick is in England and no longer lonely.
Fin.

So what does that leave? There needs be a new adventure, a new saga, that you, my readers, may follow with eagerness and anticipation. It should be dramatic, frustrating, heart-felt, and personal. It should be...

The Pangs of Becoming a British Citizen!

And believe me, there are pangs. This will be a long (5 years or more) and arduous (have you seen the Home Office website?) labor of love. And it begins now. Stay tuned.

Passing

I'm feeling terribly English just now. Today was a remarkable day.

1. I used my HSBC bank card for the first time. My very own British bank account. I'm earning and spending my money in pounds. Whee!

2. Some local yokel actually thought I was English. My accent, it seems, is coming along. He asked me where in England I was from, probably because I've picked up a smattering of inflections from people all over the island. I must sound like a right mutt. But at least I don't sound American!

Penis Post

A new drug for premature ejaculation is available, reports this week's issue of New Scientist. In a clinical trial of 2000 men, all of whom typically ejaculated less than 1 minute after penetration, the time to ejaculation was:
1.8 mins for men on placebo
2.8 mins for men on 30 mg dose, and
3.3 mins for men on 60 mg dose.

This struck me as lovely news, until i read the following:
"Marcel Waldinger, a neuropsychiatrist at Leyenburg Hospital in The Hague... is concerned that phaymaceutical compaines may be trying to 'pathologise' a condition... that belongs to normal sexual performance." In his 2005 study among the world's males' time taken to ejaculate, the average man lasted only 5.4 mins. (yes, that really is a decimal point.) In Turkey, the average was only 3.7.

5.4 mins!?!? really? um, wow.

Here's what this says to me. This says to me that popular culture has led us to have unhealty, unnatural, unrealistic expectations of men's staying power. We've seen this effect before, in our obsessive desires to have microwaists, DDboobs, and perfect tans all year round. At the same time that we've been bombarded with unrealistic expectations of our bodies, we've also been bombarded with equally unrealistic expectations of sexual performance. Egad. I actually feel sorry for men. (and Turkish women).


In related penis news: Bluto is defiantely a boy.

There was considerable doubt as to the authenticity of the little guy's true gender, as it's rather difficult to tell with hamsters. But this morning as I took him out of his cage so i could clean it, i was rubbing his belly and i accidently encountered, his, um, all right i'll just say it: i rubbed my hamter's cock. Not deliberatley, mind, but apparently he likes having his belly scratched a little too much.

I feel like i need a shower.

Moving on

Can we please get over 9/11? Pretty please? To look at the news in America yesterday you would have thought that there was nothing else happening on the entire planet except 9/11 tributes. In New York they had a ceremony at "Ground Zero" where they read the name of every single victim. It took over 3 hours. And thousands of people stood in the streets for this!

Yes it changed the world, but more because of the effect it had on American foreign policy than anything else, and American foreign policy always has major global repercussions, because we're really really really big and we make policy mistakes proportionate to our girth.

It's time to get over it, people. It's time to stop looking backwards, time to stop with the mourning and the waterworks, the jingoism, commercialism, and all the other isms. It's time to stop allowing marketing gurus and CEOs to profit from the tragedy with all the movies, TV specials (and accompanying advertising), t-shirts, car flags, pins, posters, cards, and plastic crap. 9/11 has become one of the biggest money-making schemes in American history! I havn't seen numbers, but I would bet the farm that merchandising in the aftermath of 9/11 has generated more revenue than the last American Olympic Games. Why? Because the Olympics only lasts a few weeks, but we've managed to keep this shit going for FIVE FUCKING YEARS, PEOPLE.

Why do TV networks run all those memorial specials? Do they care about the families of the deceased? Fuck no. One word: RATINGS. And ratings means ad revenue. Every time you watch one of those morbid and morose tribute programs you're putting money into the pockets of people who are exploiting the dead. Stop it.

Stop looking backwards. Stop living in 2001. I beg you all, right now, join the rest of the world in 2006, carefully examine the most dangerous threats facing the WORLD today, not just America. Realize that while 3000 people dying in a bomb blast sucks...

• Malaria kills 1.5 MILLION people globally every year
  
• in 2003 in the US there were 16,907 deaths attributed to gun violence
• in 2005 an estimated 2.8 million people died of AIDS, leaving 12 million children orphaned in Africa alone
• Since the US invaded Iraq, somewhere between 41,000 and 46,000 Iraqis have been killed. (We don't know exactly because, as General Tommy Franks said, "We don't do body counts.")
• If we don't do something drastic about global warming right now, all six billion of us are FUCKED.

So get over it, and get on with addressing the real issues.

Hair of the Elephant

This one goes out to The Great She Elephant: genius, badass, and woman extraordinaire. This post is also for all the men out there who think that short hair makes a woman look masculine. News flash, folks: it just ain't true. There are scads of women out there with short hair; sexy women, feminine women, women you want to bring home to meet mom, women you wish were your mom, and yes, even women Every Man Wants To Fuck. I give you exhibit A: Mariska Hargitay
She's hot. She's uber-feminine. And she's NOT ALONE.

Brace yourselves, boys, this is going to be one giant photo shoot of gorgeous, short-haired women. Women who are not sexy despite the serious drawback of their dikey locks, but rather, women for whom short, choppy dos have always been a trademark.






No one would EVER accuse Julie Andrews of being a dyke, and here she is, in all her short-haired, girly glory; an icon of innocence and girly girl-next-doorness. And in her 50 year career in theatre her hair never went below her ears. (And they tell all actresses nowadays to grow their hair because no one will cast them with short hair. Fuckers.)










Sexy short-haired women come in all forms:

older women

She's smart, sixty, and very sexy. (I would.)










Black women


I don't think there's a man on earth who would deny the sex appeal of Halle Berry. (And I've seen photos of her with long hair and she looks crap.)







Crazy, badass, hardcore, rock women

I love Melissa Etheridge. Yeah, it was great when she headbanged on stage while she was playing and her long blonde hair went flying everywhere, but seriously, how cute is that cut!?!? She looks so much MORE fem now. I love it. And I love you, Melissa.







Then you've got your hordes of cute, blond chickiedoos.


Melanie Griffith

(and she landed Antonio Banderas, yo! I find it reassuring that the Sexiest Man on Earth is baning a chick with short hair. I also find it tragic that that chick isn't me.)





AMERICA'S SWEETHEART: Meg Ryan








And the ever-cute (lets face, when she's 50 she'll still look like a 10-year-old), perpetually popular, Drew "Dimples" Barrymore.










Think that's it? Oh, I'M JUST GETTING STARTED!




How about the woman whose legs are insured by Lloyds of Llondon for 20 million dollars? Yep, it's Hollywood's Scream Queen, Jamie Lee Curtis, who's as hot as they come.





Still not convinced? Try the woman who was cast to be the face of She Whom No Man Could Turn Down, Tinseltown's most famous femme-fatale, Sharon Stone. She's sexy even when you can't see up her skirt!



Prefer brunettes? They say gentleman prefer blondes. I guess that means that assholes and jerks prefer brunettes. (That would explain me, anyway.)

I got your brunettes right here:



Let your eyes feast on Catherine Bell, of JAG fame, and Neve Campbell, who needs no introduction.









That should be more than enough to convince you that short hair can be just as sexy, beautiful, and feminine as long, flowing trusses. It can be sleek and elegant, choppy and funky, or just plain simple and practical. (Yeah, I'm still drooling over that pic of Neve.)

But just in case you require more evidence, Im laying my trump card:

Winona Ryder.





'Nuff said.