Another juvenile one for you - can you tell my frame of mind at the moment? Hey, I'm going with it - usually I'm so stressed I want to post pictures of people screaming and pulling their hair out - but right now, I'm all about Googly Eyes.
Putting googly eyes on things makes me happy. And I would be surprised if they didn't make you happy too - so here, have a go.
Side note: On the advice of Charolastra No.1 I will be heading to Hobbycraft to spend what's left of my savings on however many Googly Eyes I can buy for approximately £4.30.. mainly because the visual of my cat wondering around the house with Googly Eyes on his tail is just too irresistable to.. resist.
Quitting my job was an awesome move, as was deciding to start being good to my body and eating/drinking well - however, the combination of these two things is screwing with my system, and means that I have a) time on my hands b) nothing to wake up for in the morning (in the happy way, not the suicidal way!) and c) lots of new-found energy.
As such, my sleeping pattern has gone pretty mental - yesterday I didn't sleep until half 5 in the morning, then woke up at 9am, made some gluten-free banana bread, went for a run on my cross trainer, then fell asleep between 12pm - 3pm. Mental.
So, I am finding myself awake in the wee hours of the morning, either devouring episodes of House and debating whether I would pick Wilson or Chase in a 'you can have one for a night' scenario - or floating around the blogsphere/youtube devouring mindless rubbish. However, I stumbled upon these today, and I'm not sure how I've missed them. They are freaking genius.
(not a particular interesting or informative blog post, but I couldn't help myself, these are just so funny!)
--- Bieber vs. Beethoven..
--- For you Physics nerds, Einstein vs Stephen Hawking..
--- An unlikely but bitter feud, Dr Seuss vs Shakespeare..
--- And my personal favourite - Gandalf vs. Dumbledore..!
I started the following in writing an email to Pickled Lily. Halfway through, I realised that I was rambling in such a non-directional way that it would piss me off, were I to receive such an email myself, so I stopped writing to Pickled Lily (you're welcome mate!) and just continued writing, to no one. Like a lonely maniac. Until I remembered that I have a blog, so can in fact address my meandering rants to someone other than the 'Drafts' section of my Gmail, and my sleeping cat.
Also, as another prefix, in this post I use the following words, and looking back, I'm pretty sure they aren't real words at all, they just sound like what I'm trying to say. And these are: 'heartwarmed' and 'sensationalistically' - look out for them. And then tell me what words I meant to write. Thanks.
---
Hey, so remembering our discussion about how reckless and destructive advertising agencies and film studios are being with their film synopses, after my Twilight catastrophe (still feel a bitter pang to the heart when I think about it..) - I was reading IMDB news just now, and was seriously heartwarmed to read this (right at the bottom, under the Kristen Bell newsclip..):
Right, so, you see that??
So the article is as follows: Empire, whilst on the Sherlock set, had a quick chat with Benedict Cumberbatch, who is in the Hobbit, and therefore is privy to certain information, and can reveal certain things - and he obviously did exactly that - revealed something about the film in said conversation. Now, rather than use that information to sensationalistically drum up noise by giving away what could be important plot points, or acting/visual sfx treats in the film, Empire have prefixed their article with this sentence, which I love: 'The following is both complete conjecture and a possible spoiler for The Hobbit, so please think carefully before continuing."
I love this sentence. Please think carefully, and consider whether you actually want to know this potential news.. If you don't, then just skip past, we don't mind. But if you do, then go ahead, by all means read on. We have just momentarily stopped you at the entrance, just to make sure you definitely want to be here, and you are aware of the situation. It's no bother, its our responsibility. Honestly, it's not a problem, we are Empire after all, and you can trust us."
Thank you Empire for being one of the few remaining journalistic machines in the film industry to show integrity, and respect for both films and audiences, in this regard - for this, I salute you!
NB: As a side note, I have of course read the Hobbit many many times since childhood, so would not run the risk of having anything spoiled for me plot-wise, but I still did not read on, in case there was some info that ruined the film experience, as undoubtedly carefully drawn out and considered by Peter Jackson and his team. See now that there is a whole bunch of film making respect, by everyone involved. By Pete Jacko, by taking his time developing a book that he loves, knowing how beloved it is by the fans, into a film that will be worthy of this love - by Empire for respecting that certain information can ruin a viewers experience of a film, and that not everyone thrives on prior knowledge, and also being aware that a lot of people may not have read the books, so to warn of any potential spoilers very very carefully - and by me as a viewer, for not reading any spoilers even though I know the story very well, because I respect the film makers and everyone involved, and the journey that they wish to take the audience on, so I will be careful not to spoil that.
- Jolly well done everyone. A round of applause for us all there. We should be proud.
Now to add, you may think that I'm over-reacting and that I'm probably hormonally imbalanced- but I am neither, thank you. I may be a little sensitive to the issue of spoilers since I recently suffered a giant disasterous heartbreak with the Twilight movies - and before you start, yes I am an intelligent cogent human being, who is a sci fi, comedy, drama, general literary buff, fan and appreciator - and yes, I think Twilight is awesome. And unashamedly in part because of how much I have fallen in love with the sexy vampires (I grew up on Anne Rice books and Buffy, vampires are a part of my psyche as much as lego or cereal or public transport)
Anyway, when it first came out I decided to watch the films and read the books after (which already means I don't rate it anywhere as high as other adaptations such as Game of Thrones, but not quite as low as Vampire Diaries, the pilot of which I only watched because it immediately sucked so much energy out of me I was unable to reach for the remote)
I fell in hormonal innocent pseudo-teenage love with the first film, and by the end of the third film I was a full blown convert (Team Carlisle, since you asked). And so when the fourth installation, the penultimate movie, Breaking Dawn: Part 1, came out last November, we decided to take Pickled Lily for her birthday - she is a giant fan, and had read all the books before anyone had even heard of the words "R-Pats" - and so I booked our cinema tickets online, to make sure we had seats.
In booking tickets online (the Apollo Haymarket, if you must know. Great overlooked little cinema, comfy seats, great sound and pic quality, appalling website) - I clicked on Twilight, obviously, and up came a full screen poster of Twilight with a chunk of writing below that I assumed was information on timings/booking. It wasn't - it was a synopsis of the film. Fine - my eyes fluttered past nonchalantly, and in a split second, I had the entire franchise, the entire Twilight experience, ruined for me.
This synopsis had casually given away a GIANT piece of information about one of the characters, that once discovered, pretty much nullifies the entire journey they've taken you on previously, which deliberately cleverly twists and turns and keeps you guessing about the character development, and where the story ultimately is heading, and just how far the creator was willing to take her characters, and what are the repercussions of every possible choice.. In one sentence, one spoiler carelessly displayed, all of that was ruined. I still can't believe it. I won't tell you what it is, as that would be contradictory madness, but suffice to say that it is on a par with the 'Luke, I Am Your Father' revelation (possibly the only 'giveaway' that I'm happy to discuss, as surely there's no-one in the world to whom that is a surprise!) Anyway, said Twilight information should never have been in a synopsis to be put on public display in the first place - have a look through the synopses for Breaking Dawn: Part 1, I'm sure it's still on there, nice and easy to find. It's almost as if it was written by someone who not only had never read the books or watched the films, but also didn't give a shit about them. Or, perhaps more forgivably, by someone who hated them.
Now it turns out that actually even if I hadn't discovered this crucial bit of information ahead of time, my Twilight experience would have been ruined anyway by the fucking appaaaaaallling quality of the film in every possible way, which I won't go into, to save you a good few pages of angry fan-ranting, save to say this: you gotta love a British audience, one moment in the script writing was just so appallingly stupid that half of the previously respectful, forgiving, appreciative 20s-30s audience could barely stifle a fit of the giggles - this was during the Rene-Esme-Renesme debacle, to those of you who have seen this giant-slap-in-the-face of a film, and managed to make it through without laughing/crying in desperation.
But regardless of the film's rubbishness and complete lack of integrity and transparently lazy scriptwriting and blatantly cynical sales-based advantage-taking, why-bother-with-quality-when-theyre-buying-the-merchandise, corporate bullshit fast-destroying-this-film-industry motives - *ahem* Regardless of this, my main point is this: now what is the bloody point of being so bloody reckless with your synopses, film studios? It's bad enough you tell us most of the plot in the trailer, and take away whatever mystery and cult surrounding a film by shoving adverts and merchandise in our face as soon as you get a whiff that we, the general public, quite like something - but now you can't even be bothered to edit the synopses properly?? Especially when film critics, who have of course seen the film in advance of the general public, take so much effort carefully weaving their words to avoid giving away any plot points whilst still getting their opinions of the movie across - whilst you recklessly, carelessly spit out any information that looks good on a film poster, or the back of a dvd, with no sense of due diligence.
I kid you not, I now read any newspaper, magazine, online publication, with my eyes slightly squinted, just so that if my eyes flit across a film, a book, a tv show, or in fact anything that I like, I can look away immediately. In case my experience of it is accidentally destroyed. Because, in this cinematic world of sales-motivated teaser campaigns, and message boards, and obsessive information-collecting and currency, it would appear that the general media, along with the production companies, no longer give a shit about what, in essence, makes film such a powerful artistic medium: the 2 and a half hour journey between a storyteller and his/her eager recipient, the teller sharing his/her expression of beloved characters, world, ideas - with an eager, appreciative audience, ready and willing to be taken wherever the story may lead, and hopefully to be enchanted and capitvated, and transformed, along the way.
Anyway, what the hell am I rambling on about now - this was supposed to be a happy, celebratory post - and so it is, really!
So I will leave on my original happy note, which is this: Empire did a small thing today that signifies, to me at least, that there is still hope for the film culture media, and it lies in the small, well-meaning phrase "please think carefully before continuing" --- (On a personal note, perhaps in light of this, I should now forgive Empire for that fateful 2002 edition - the last Empire I ever bought, when they rated Wes Anderson's The Life Aquatic a mere 3 out of 5 in the same publication that they awarded 5 out of 5 to Star Wars: The Phantom joke-of-a-film-that-made-me-wish-George-Lucas-had-died-before-he-had-a-chance-to-make-this-blasphemous-abomination Menace.. Ah who am I kidding, I'll be angry about that until the day I die. Both the film, and the rating. Ah the emotional ups and downs of being a film lover. An angry, weepy, delirious film lover.)
Right, this post is just a bit of a crabby moan really, but it's been plaguing my mind pretty much all year!
Inappropriate music. It's a real bug bear of mine, I just can't abide it.
You know how everyone has their own completely irrational thing that just turns them into a facist monster? Mine is inappropriate music - I cannot bear it. I'm really sensitive to music anyway, I've been known to walk out of a shop because they are playing bad music - not that I'm a snob, but I don't think it's unreasonable to not want to spend half an hour trying on clothes to the soundtrack of Mis-teeq telling me how to spell their name (incidentally, it's "M with the I with the S - T double E Q")
But this year has been particularly bad, to the point where I have found myself infuriated and offended, and that seems to have left some angry residue in my psyche. Am I overreacting? Perhaps. I'm not suggesting that these have done anything wrong per se but... Ah, who am I kidding? There is no excuse for using wrong music - and the people responsible should be shot. In the head. With a rusty spoon.
EXAMPLE 1 Volkswagen Car Advert - The Kinks: The Days
This one upset me to the point that every time it came on, I had to mute it, and stop myself from throwing my remote at my telly. Calm down, I would tell myself, it's not telly's fault. It's Western society's money grabbing manipulative sales-driven cynical corporate consumerism that is to blame. Throw the remote at that, not at lovely shiny telly.
The Kinks - Days. This song is an under rated classic, a thing of beauty and thus a joy forever - I have had this song down as the song I want played at my funeral, since I was 14.
(Yes, I was a morbid but well prepared 14 yr old. I recommend you all chose your funeral song and make it expressly known to all of your loved ones - otherwise I guarantee you will end up being buried to some Westlife song or Goodbye My Lover by James Blunt. Yeah - now you're seeing my point..)
Anyway, that one was blasphemy in my eyes - sentimental twaddle used to sell cars - breaks my heart.
EXAMPLE 2 Life on Mars - Title Sequence/Opening Credits Music
Now this one I just think lets itself down.
Life on Mars was a wonderful BBC series. Incredibly well written, acted and directed - a fascinating, clever in depth commentary on the human psyche via the moral dilemmas surrounding 'the force' (not that force, the other more truncheon-wieldy one) - it's an emotionally compelling, humorous, not-your-average cop drama, that keeps you guessing until the very end (what has happened to Sam, we wonder - accidental time travel, an alternate dimension, limbo, is he experiencing a complex neurological construct due to being in a coma? - fuck Lost, this is a proper journey of mystery, with a proper ending!) - then add the insurmountable Philip Glenister and the endlessly watchable John Simm into the equation, as two characters with a captivating dynamic, and there you have it - a real BBC gem.
A quick synopsis (no spoilers): Sam Tyler is a detective in the modern day Manchester police department. Sam’s girlfriend is kidnapped by a serial killer he is hunting and, while trying to find her, Sam is struck by a car. Upon waking, he discovers he is in Manchester, 1973. Sam tries to discover whether he has actually traveled back in time, is in a coma imagining 1973, or if he has imagined 2006 and is actually crazy.
Now, as much as I rate this series, and I rate this series in a big way, I always truly hated the theme music. The first time I heard it, it grated instantly, and I still can't listen to it without scowling a little.
I get it - it's a difficult one, you can't have music with any of the trademarks of the modern era - neither can you go with 70s theme music, because either way you're letting slip the answer to the underlying secret of the show by synesthetically setting a decade theme in the collective subconscious of the viewers.
And yes, the makers/the beeb are far too smart to fall into the trap of making Bowie's Life on Mars the theme tune, thus negating the genius of the title, and the clever use of Bowie music in the show itself (either that or they couldn't afford the rights) - either way, I'm grateful.
However, did they really need to go with this nondescript mashup..?
To me, it sounds like it could easily be the theme tune to a crappy daytime Channel 5 hospital drama - and now we're here, I'm actually not too keen on the visuals either..
Disclaimer: I never watch Channel 5, so I am not referring to any existing Channel 5 programme. Any resemblance to any crap Channel 5 hospital drama, existing or in the works, is purely coincidental. And mathematically unavoidable.
I'm sorry, DCI Hunt and DI Tyler - I just feel it doesn't do you justice.
EXAMPLE 3 Twilight Breaking Dawn: Part 2 - Closing Credits - Bruno Mars
Right, where do I start with this one?
The inappropriate mis-use of this song is actually the perfect analogy for just how disappointing this movie was. This movie, by the way, not the franchise, just this appalling excuse for a movie. As a genuine Twilight fan (shut up) I think that this abomination of a film should be taken out the proverbial back door and shot. But not before it's been tortured for crimes against humanity. Ok, maybe not humanity, but the large chunk of humanity that genuinely rate these films/books, and have spent a lot of time defending them. Well well done for proving us wrong, in the most careless, cynical, blatantly just-for-profit way possible. Next time just punch me in the face and take £8 from my wallet. It would be better spent.
Not only was this poorly written, lazily put together, with no thought for momentum or scene transition or basic storytelling, lacking any attention or care - it also had, it would appear, replaced its' music department with a box of Pop Tarts.
The first film in the 'saga' won my heart with a brilliantly light sequence of a vampire baseball game set against Muse's Supermassive Black Hole (which in principle is something that should upset me, as a Muse fan, so big win there!) - and the atmospheric use of rock music in general was nice. A little cliched, but well thought out and earnest in its' careful song choices. Whereas this last monstrosity of a film lost my heart long before I'd heard this Bruno Mars song lazily chucked in at the credits, this just acted as a kick in the teeth. It basically said to me - ha! This'll teach you to sit through such a shoddy film - you should have walked out during the Wolf scene, which was clearly directed by the team behind Sesame Street. Except without the sense of humour.
Oh, and don't think that we didn't notice you using R-Pats' song from the first film. Oh, we all noticed. We are just saving our vitriol and fan-fury for something much more important: stopping this from ever being made (more to come on this subject, but thought I'd slip it in to prepare you, dear reader).
Side note: I like Bruno Mars, actually. 'Marry You' genuinely makes me want to get married in Vegas on a whim with a boy I'll never see again. It doesn't stop this song from being an insultingly bad choice.
EXAMPLE 4 Coca Cola Christmas advert - Natasha Bedingfield..!
I am a full on Christmas convert. I never cared for it much as a kid; every year I was shipped out like a wartime evacuee from the City to the countryside to spend Christmas with some family friends who were nice people, but extremely large - numbers wise - and extremely well-off. This meant that I spent my Christmases surrounded by luxury, mountains of presents, plentiful food, hustle and bustle - but me being a quiet, insular child with my headphones on and my shy little head in a book, I spent the entire time feeling uncomfortable and small, and insignificant, and different, and poor. Little did I know how familiar that feeling would become when entering secondary school..
Anyway, when I hit my 20s, Christmas had done a full circle and suddenly became something that I had control over: who I spent it with, where I spent it, who I bought presents for, how much egg nog I was going to swig - honestly, I must have already hit 20 or 21 when it dawned on me that I was no longer tied in to my mothers' Christmas regime of upper class suburban torture, I could have my own - so I did. I had several in fact, my first of my Christmases I spent on my own, in my flat, with my cat, having spent all of December making lists of the food I was going to eat, the films I was going to watch, the drinks I was going to make etc etc - I absolutely loved it. Liberation.
I spent subsequent Christmases at various places - with various friends who also had no family to return to, 'London's orphans' I called us. One year I spent in a huge 5 bedroom in Dalston where my friend and I drank his housemate's 100 yr old bourbon and played cards til the wee hours, another I spent with two Filipino guys who gave me shells to wear in my hair and whom I taught to make Yorkshire Puddings, another I spent with my best friend's family who played charades like an Olympic sport while I stuffed my face with lemon cake.
Each one was lovely in its' own unique way, but the Christmas that most feels like mine are the ones I spend with my urban family at Pickled Lily's house. We've had three Christmases together, all 4 of us, and I hold them dearly to my heart. We do all the traditional things - tree decorated with love and lights, big christmas lunch with all the trimmings, crackers and mince pies, presents on christmas day morning, Bucks Fizz and egg nog, eat Quality Streets and watch the Doctor Who special, play board games on Boxing Day - and all of this we do whilst having a laugh and chilling out, without all the drama of a family Christmas (you know; the politics and dramas and fights and underlying repressed British tension and resentment - one friend of mine texted me from A&E this year whilst her grandad was having a panic attack, her mum was getting hammered and throwing up on an orderly, and her 30 yr old step sister was chucking all her presents in the bin..)
You know, being able to choose my own Christmas may be one of my favourite things about becoming a grownup. Really.
But, I digress - my point being that one of the most magical feelings is when you first realise that Christmas is coming. I mean genuinely - when Summer is over and you get depressed as Winter looms ahead - September is spent watching the leaves change and rueing the loss of Summer, October gets cold and Halloween comes and goes without making much noise, November brings with it two things: rain, and the promise of Christmas ahead. So come November, you know that it's coming, you tell yourself to make preparation and start thinking about presents (so that you don't find yourself desperately jumping off a night bus on Christmas eve and sheepishly giving your loved ones scratchcards and fags from the corner shop) - however, you only start to feel it approaching when a few things happen. One of those things is the Coca Cola advert. Holidays are coming, holidays are coming, holidays are coming..
Ahhh it's so naff, and so American and earnest - but it's that very thing that turns you into a little kid - the animation, the jingly jangly bells, the snow, the commercial version of white-bearded Santa popping up on your screens swigging a diet coke and winking at you - ahhh, nothing quite says Christmas like it.
Seriously.
And every year, my Facebook gets inundated with status updates (including my own) excitedly proclaiming that Christmas has officially started - the Coca Cola advert has been on!
However, this year... This year, luckily I didn't catch the advert until just before I left for Christmas week - but when I saw it was on, I dropped everything, turned the volume up, and sat excitedly in front of the telly like a child or a happy dog, expecting some lovely sappy sentimental nonsense that melts the ice over my cynical heart, and of course some reindeer and snow and jingly bells, but what I got was this..
What.. the.. fuck.. is Natasha Bedingfield.. doing on the Christmas advert..?
A brief, incoherent scene based on some half-arsed premise of Santa holding a snow globe with 'the world' in it - and to top it all off, the irritating self satisfied snotty private school pretending to be 'ghetto' voice of Natasha horse-mouth Bedingfield. I could have handled the stupid visuals if there was only a good song going on!
I'm sorry. I will compose myself. I am aware I've now regressed into an illiterate teenager (cf: 'horse-mouth') - but I just watched all of the above to check video quality, and it's taken its' toll on my mental health and sanity.
So, I will leave you with this: music is a tool to be used very carefully, and with great respect and reverence and, if possible, love - when combining it with any form of media, it can transform a simple scene, advert, visual, picture - into something magical, or something aesthetically insulting, and in severe cases, blasphemous. (I'm still not over reacting, I swear)
This is my last blog post of 2011, and funnily enough, rather than go out on that note - I will go out on a slightly more optimistic note in regards to the use of music in the media, from an unlikely source. The London fireworks, which are more often than not, a complete waste of time, money and neck movement - this year, were spectacular. I was genuinely speechless. And a big part of that was due to the fantastic use of soundtrack - hopefully this is a good sign for 2012 - bring it on!
Right, so today after having spent the morning wrapping presents, and the afternoon having tea with Charolastra No.1 I sat down to watch a bit of telly (Michael Buble Christmas Special - yum. Michael Buble has that clean-cut well groomed butter-wouldn't-melt look that says "I'm such a good guy, all mothers everywhere will adore me"- but he has a twinkle in his eyes and a sideways smile that says "Behind closed doors, I would do so many naughty things to you" - and I would let you, Bubbles, oh how I would let you..)
Anyway, I'm watching the telly - and an advert comes on for some board game that you can "buy now and receive in time for Christmas!" Now, I had never heard of this game but my ears pricked up, my spidey senses tingled, and I knew immediately that this was something I would find myself ranting about. The game was called His and Hers. The advert went something like this:
So already, you know where I'm going with this, right?
Well, rather than launch into a full on rant, I will just transcribe the advert for you (I think it speaks for itself, but I'd like to be clear..)
ADVERT 1
Man: What does a sweeper do on a football team?
Woman: Clean the dressing room?
*A mop & bucket falls on Woman's head*
Man: Early bath for you..
Voiceover: Ahh silly women, they never understand football.
ADVERT 2
Woman: Heat, More and Now - are words associated with what?
Man: ..Cooking?
*Woman hits man over the head with a frying pan*
Woman: Do you want seconds?
Voiceover: Ahh women, always in the kitchen reading trashy magazines. No wonder they can't come up with a decent one-liner.
ADVERT 3
Man: How does Bond like his Martini served?
Woman: Quickly?
*Man throws Martini over Woman*
Man: What's the matter, you look.. shaken.
Voiceover: Bond. He makes hilariousquips before he throws things at women.
"HIS AND HERS: A GAME THAT CELEBRATES OUR DIFFERENCES."
---
Right so admittedly, the voiceover parts I may have added myself. But, that is basically what they are saying. The advert I watched actually wasn't either of these - it was a Star Wars one. So you can imagine my cheery amusement at that one. It went a little like this:
Man: I'm asking you a really obvious question about Star Wars.
Woman: Oh, I wouldn't know that, because I'm a woman so I only watch Titanic and The Notebook. On a loop, all day, in between painting my nails and brushing my hair. Because I'm a fucking moron, it would appear.
Voiceover: Women. Aren't they stupid.
---
Now, I'm not going to do it - I'm not. Honestly, I'm not. I've already just written furious spitting paragraphs on the many, many, many problems with the sexism that is so shamelessly rife in popular tv and film culture alone, and had to delete them all. The reason is that I've promised myself I will not do an angry feminist rant, because that just perpetuates the stereotype of the angry irrational woman (not that it matters if she happens to be right - she's over-reacting, and probably on her period. Sorry, I also swore that I wouldn't be passive aggressive - but if I'm not going to let myself be aggressive, I have to let the gorram fury out somehow!)
Anyway, I looked it up on Amazon - if I wasn't so broke, I would have bought it just so that I could ridicule and pull it apart on this blog, in greater detail.. But as it is, I am broke, and it costs £25. If I ever find it on Ebay for under a tenner, I will buy it and let you know.
But, here's what I found on Amazon..
Product Description
His and Hers - This latest addition to the fantastic Logo family brings a humorous new twist to the great debate - are we really that different? If you play His and Hers you'll find the answer is a hilarious YES!
Product Description
Men are endlessly mystified about the contents of a woman's handbag, their wardrobe and what they read in their magazines... equally, women don't understand a man's need for gadgets, power tools and their obsession with sport. The His and Hers board game is a celebration of our differences as seen through everyday things. Divide your friends into single sex teams, and have some FUN celebrating what makes women women and men men.
Right, I'm not being funny, but is it the Nineties? Are we actually back in the nineties with post-Carry On / pre-Girl Power, Men=Football+Beer / Women=Boobs+Shoes ??
What I read there in that description is Men = sports, gadgets, power tools, Women = handbag, wardrobe, magazines. Tag words that were rife in popular culture in the nineties, but were laughed out in the naughties as old fashioned sexist caricatures. Or so we'd thought.
Although wait, I don't even need to read the description, as they've spelled it out loud and clear on the box:
Lets have a closer look on what is placed on the 'His' Section, and on the 'Hers' Section - ie. what signifies 'man' and what signifies 'woman' (beyond blue and pink, obviously)
His: Football --- Hers: Nail Polish His: Pint of Beer --- Hers: Cocktail (a glass of wine for the lady, a beer for the gent) His: A Tie --- Hers: A Neck Tie
(!!! - presumably for when she's handing out tea and wet cloths on airplanes, to men in their suits, on their business trips) His: Yorkie Bar --- Hers: A Galaxy Bar His: An Electric Screwdriver --- Hers: A Hairdryer His: A Spanner --- Hers: A Blusher Brush His: Brogues --- Hers: Pink Stiletto Heels His: Boxer Shorts --- Hers: Sexy Knickers and my personal favourite... His: A Wallet (!!) --- Hers: A Handbag (A handbag which presumably her husband has bought her. Seeing as he has the wallet.)
So there we have it. His and Hers. A hilaaarious celebration of our differences.
I'm laughing so much I had to put down my hairdryer and nearly spilt my nail polish over my copy of Heat magazine.
Now, I class myself as an Atheist (as well as a Browncoat)
A humanist, an anti-theist, a feminist and, I have been told, a socialist.
I always knew that I was an atheist, but never had an intelligent reason as to why, beyond "because there is no God..? Duh?" - until I really discovered what atheism was, and why it was.
I was once asked by a Philosophy teacher at school, who happened to be a Christian priest, and an intelligent, thoughtful and decent man, as well as an admirer of free thought and inquiry (which seems oxymoronic, but he pulled it off somehow) - "How would you class your religious views? Would you say that you were an Atheist?"
"..umm, no, probably agnostic" I replied "I do not believe in any God, I abhor organised religion, and don't even ask me what my experience of people of faith has been, because I will have to swear. A lot. A lot more than usual."
"So not atheist then, you would consider yourself 'agnostic'?"
"Yeah, I reckon so. I'm an open minded person, I'm happy to be proven wrong. I don't consider other people's beliefs 'wrong' as such, they can believe whatever they want - I just so happen to believe in nature and the laws of the universe, and I consider God to be comparable to Father Christmas or the Easter bunny. I always knew that I was supposed to believe in them, but I never have."
I was barely 16 at the time, and more concerned with tracking down old T-Rex b-sides than I was with my spiritual growth, or the expansion of my understanding of the world or humanity or even history - I knew that I didn't believe in God, so what else was there to talk about? Did it matter whether I was agnostic, or atheistic or whatever? (I also definitely didn't understand what either of those terms realy means, I'm pretty sure I thought 'an atheist' was an angry protester who burnt down churches and was somehow a rude word, and that an agnostic was just someone who didn't give a shit either way)
--
Years later, perhaps seven or eight years later, I bumped into this philosophy teacher in a pub in North London.
We caught up, chatted briefly about old times (well, he chatted about old times, I winced in an awkward embarrassment as I generally do when reminiscing about 'old times' - I am uniformly embarrassed of almost everything I do, almost the instant after having done it)
He pointed out that I'd grown up into a young woman, with long brown hair and a smile, no longer a young girl with short pink hair and a snarl, and I pointed out that he still had the same goat-like beard and kind eyes.
Just before we parted he asked me "So, are you still agnostic? What are your religious tendencies these days, did you ever decide?"
I laughed and compared general views on agnosticism to general views on bisexuality.. one day they will come off the fence and pick a side.
"Ahh, I'm familiar with the opinion - there's no such thing as neutral, only unaware. And greedy! So, really, surely you haven't discovered God?"
"No," I said with what I hoped to be a wry, pointed sparkle in my eye, "I discovered Christopher Hitchens."
---
So, this evening, here I sit in my front room, having poured myself a glass of Black Label and lit myself a cigarette, in honour of a truly great man.
This one's to you, Hitch, from a grateful young Contrarian.
For a lifetime of fiercely demanding skepticism, free inquiry and rational thought - I, undoubtedly among many, salute you. And I thank you.
- CHRISTOPHER HITCHENS -
3rd April 1949 - 15th December 2011
“Beware the irrational, however seductive. Shun the 'transcendent' and all who invite you to subordinate or annihilate yourself. Distrust compassion; prefer dignity for yourself and others. Don't be afraid to be thought arrogant or selfish. Picture all experts as if they were mammals. Never be a spectator of unfairness or stupidity. Seek out argument and disputation for their own sake; the grave will supply plenty of time for silence. Suspect your own motives, and all excuses. Do not live for others any more than you would expect others to live for you.”
Further to my re-ignited love affair with London (I have spent my life toeing the line between love and hate, and a recent chance stumble upon a breaking dawn rooftop view of my home town has pushed me full on into London-love again, and I have spent the week reconnecting with my city) - ah, I haven't lost my knack of getting stuck inside brackets (I don't know why - I use too many brackets, always have. What a strange quirk to have. I think it's my propensity to have 'side thoughts'..)
Anyway, I stumbled upon an old Pogues track that I always thought was particularly beautiful, and the way I feel when I end up in an old pub in the wee hours.
As with Shane MacGowan's typically distinct style of singing - as if through a mouth full of ale (not sure it's a technique so much as a side effect of having a mouth full of ale..) - people often miss his knack for touching lyrics, on-point observations and his truly romantic turn of phrase.
Ah London, you're a lady, laid out before my eyes
Your heart of gold it pulses between your scarred up thighs
Your eyes are full of sadness, red busses skirt your hem
Your head-dress is a ring of lights but I would not follow them
Your architects were madmen - your builders sane but drunk
Among your faded jewels shine acid house and punk
You are a scarlet lady; your streets run red with blood
Oh my darling they have used you and covered you with mud
It was deep down in your womb, my love, I drank my quart of sin
While chinamen played cards and draughts
And knocked back mickey finns
Your piss is like a river, its' scent is beer and gin
Your hell is in the summer and you blossom in the spring
September is your purgatory - Christmas is your heaven
And when the stinking streets of summer
Are washed away by rain
At the dark end of a lonely street,
That's where you lose your pain
'Tis then your eyes light up my love
And sparkle once again.
