I'm pretty much fed up with articles going on about women and their binge drinking. It's Friday, I want some wine - I might even have *two glasses* (because I'm that wild) and that will completely tip me over into binge drinking territory. And if any Daily Mail reading arsehole wants to come and chastise me for it, I'll then end up as one of the "women and violence" statistics too. Which I think secretly would turn them on a little bit. All they'd need to really get them going would be for me to be pregnant and eating a bit of blue cheese. Ooh - such a rebel!
On that note, I have to really restrain myself whilst commuting when I'm sitting next to someone dressed in a suit and reading the Daily Mail. How they accept that alarmist drivel let alone use at it as the Primary Evidence for all Opinions is completely beyond me. Sometimes I am tempted to ask how they can stand making themselves look like ignorant bigots in front of their fellow commuters, but it would make me look like a bit of smug bitch. Whereas, obviously, you know, I'm genuinely interested...
In some ways it's worse than the men on the train/tube who open up the Sun and openly stare at naked boobs for 15 minutes with weird little smirks on their faces. At least it's widely accepted that these men are socially inept freaks. The worst thing is that Daily Mail readers think they are being informed and respectable. There is nothing respectable about a paper that is practically a hate crime in and of itself.
Gah. I'm so grumpy.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Born to ramble
Several thoughts for the day:
(1) Marilyn French passed away over the weekend. An article here. It's so sad. The Women's Room is one of my favourite books - it really means a lot to me.
(2) It is obviously almost summer - the little bats have started flying around the garden again. I love the way they fly - so erratic but at the same time very graceful.
(3) I was secretly hoping someone in my office would get swine flu so I could have a week off work whilst being quarantined. I know this makes me a bad person, but in my defence, I was only hoping they'd get a *mild* case. Obviously, I have now ensured that should a terrible pandemic break out, I will totally be patient zero and die an horrible, lingering death. There'll probably be boils involved. You know, just because.
(4) Annie Lennox is totally awesome.
(1) Marilyn French passed away over the weekend. An article here. It's so sad. The Women's Room is one of my favourite books - it really means a lot to me.
(2) It is obviously almost summer - the little bats have started flying around the garden again. I love the way they fly - so erratic but at the same time very graceful.
(3) I was secretly hoping someone in my office would get swine flu so I could have a week off work whilst being quarantined. I know this makes me a bad person, but in my defence, I was only hoping they'd get a *mild* case. Obviously, I have now ensured that should a terrible pandemic break out, I will totally be patient zero and die an horrible, lingering death. There'll probably be boils involved. You know, just because.
(4) Annie Lennox is totally awesome.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Is that your mother on the phone?
Early May is the time to celebrate my mother's birthday (for that, unsurprisingly, is when she was born). So, happy birthday Mum! Not that you read this blog, thank goodness. One feature of the event this year was my sister declaring herself to be a feminist. Hurrah! Apparently she got very into gender when researching her dissertation. Her own description of this epiphany was "Damn those men with penises" (men without penises apparently not so bad) but she hastened to point out that this was in a socio-historical context, rather than a straightforward men=teh evils way. Anyway, I'm not going to push her, but I'm pleased and excited that she's discovering feminist thought. Hopefully she'll start to form her internal narrative over the next year or so and then we can have lots of interesting discussions. Where I will attempt not to trample all over her views. Go me.
This whole episode is completely bewildering to my mother, who for years has treated my own feminism like a slightly socially awkward speech impediment. She was pleased when I announced my impending marriage (which probably merits a whole other blog post - do not get me started on the inherent contradictions in my decision to do this) - I think she secretly thought I was going to become a lesbian and join a commune. However, now that my sister has joined in, it's even more perplexing to her.
"What did I do?" she asked, as though maybe it was because she'd allowed us to eat too many e-numbers as children. Then: "Why did it pass me by?"
This is an interesting question. I've always felt a bit left out, because other feminists seem to talk a lot about how they were inspired by the feminism of their own mothers. This was certainly not the case with me. And it's not that she's particularly anti-feminist, more that she just never thought feminism was an issue that concerned her. I don't think she'll ever really "get" why feminism is important to me, but I guess my sister and I have the chance to do things the other way round - perhaps, after a while, we might inspire feminism in my mother. And that would be just as good.
This whole episode is completely bewildering to my mother, who for years has treated my own feminism like a slightly socially awkward speech impediment. She was pleased when I announced my impending marriage (which probably merits a whole other blog post - do not get me started on the inherent contradictions in my decision to do this) - I think she secretly thought I was going to become a lesbian and join a commune. However, now that my sister has joined in, it's even more perplexing to her.
"What did I do?" she asked, as though maybe it was because she'd allowed us to eat too many e-numbers as children. Then: "Why did it pass me by?"
This is an interesting question. I've always felt a bit left out, because other feminists seem to talk a lot about how they were inspired by the feminism of their own mothers. This was certainly not the case with me. And it's not that she's particularly anti-feminist, more that she just never thought feminism was an issue that concerned her. I don't think she'll ever really "get" why feminism is important to me, but I guess my sister and I have the chance to do things the other way round - perhaps, after a while, we might inspire feminism in my mother. And that would be just as good.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Revolution will be Widgetised
I don't quite know what the title means, but it was the subject line of one of the trillion of porn spam emails I received this week and I think it's probably the most awesome subject line for a porn spam email *ever*. I also got one about foot sex, which was entertaining, but not quite so surreal.
The last two months have been a little trying in various ways (despite the Easter weekend - hurrah for no work!) and I'm only just starting to feel a bit better. Or at least like I'm coping, which is something. The sunshine and the bank holiday fest that is next month are getting me through. Yesterday, between meetings, I sat outside a cafe in Paternoster Square, enjoying the sun and eating pineapple. It felt good. If only that was my entire job. Sadly, this is not the case - my *actual* job involves travelling for two hours to get to the office for 7.30am, only to discover on arrival that the meeting is cancelled and then still having to be fucking perky for the rest of the day in case someone decides to fire me. The gloom is only punctuated by small acts of pineapple-eating rebellion.
I am also getting sadistic pleasure out of the new, 50p tax rise on the miniscule 1% of the population who earn over £150k. Several members of my company are having the biggest hissy fits over this - why should they have to pay this tax? Why don't they tax the lumpen proles? What if they have to sack one of the nannies because they can't afford 3 *and* two homes and millions of foreign holidays - OH TEH HORRORS!!1!11! This griping has caused unrest among some colleagues who have suddenly figured out that a few of their peers are obviously earning one hell of a lot more than they are. Next pay day should be interesting, at least...
Perhaps Darling is in fact a G20 protester at heart - the budget has inconvenienced and terrorised the City far more effectively and potently than the G20 protests did. I just wish Labour had introduced it sooner, really.
Otherwise, all is quiet. Apart from the sodding Morris Dancers that invaded the City on St. George's day, no doubt all part of the Mayor of London's plan to make us all feel like we're English. It certainly made us all feel embarrassed and awkward, so maybe it worked. It was surreal and terrifying, like wandering through a James Herbert novel that had gone horribly wrong.
The last two months have been a little trying in various ways (despite the Easter weekend - hurrah for no work!) and I'm only just starting to feel a bit better. Or at least like I'm coping, which is something. The sunshine and the bank holiday fest that is next month are getting me through. Yesterday, between meetings, I sat outside a cafe in Paternoster Square, enjoying the sun and eating pineapple. It felt good. If only that was my entire job. Sadly, this is not the case - my *actual* job involves travelling for two hours to get to the office for 7.30am, only to discover on arrival that the meeting is cancelled and then still having to be fucking perky for the rest of the day in case someone decides to fire me. The gloom is only punctuated by small acts of pineapple-eating rebellion.
I am also getting sadistic pleasure out of the new, 50p tax rise on the miniscule 1% of the population who earn over £150k. Several members of my company are having the biggest hissy fits over this - why should they have to pay this tax? Why don't they tax the lumpen proles? What if they have to sack one of the nannies because they can't afford 3 *and* two homes and millions of foreign holidays - OH TEH HORRORS!!1!11! This griping has caused unrest among some colleagues who have suddenly figured out that a few of their peers are obviously earning one hell of a lot more than they are. Next pay day should be interesting, at least...
Perhaps Darling is in fact a G20 protester at heart - the budget has inconvenienced and terrorised the City far more effectively and potently than the G20 protests did. I just wish Labour had introduced it sooner, really.
Otherwise, all is quiet. Apart from the sodding Morris Dancers that invaded the City on St. George's day, no doubt all part of the Mayor of London's plan to make us all feel like we're English. It certainly made us all feel embarrassed and awkward, so maybe it worked. It was surreal and terrifying, like wandering through a James Herbert novel that had gone horribly wrong.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
One more thing
I just watched that completely freaky Justin Timberlake video where he's dating ScarJo and then she cheats on him, then he chases her in his car and then her car blows up and he's standing over her dead body. Whilst smugly singing about "what goes around comes around". What? You can *kill* the person who cheated on you through dangerous driving/obsessive stalking and then say that they had it coming. Because they're a cheating woman. Or they *were* a cheating woman until you turned them into a lifeless corpse. This is a really unhealthy view of women.
I mean, really.
Mr. Timberlake - you are kind of fucked up.
I mean, really.
Mr. Timberlake - you are kind of fucked up.
Girls on Film
Here is a good discussion on female characters in chick flicks. I've been thinking about this for a while, not just because of the obvious woman-bashing film that is He's Just Not That Into You. No, I think ever since I saw the train-wreck of a film that was My Super Ex-Girlfriend - possibly one of the WORST films I have ever seen. I almost felt violated.
No, seriously though. It was completely shite and I can't believe Uma actually signed up to it. What was she thinking?? It could have been called "How I hate women and can you believe that at some point I've probably gotten laid?". And I'd be all like, no, really - I can't. Because you repluse me.
No, seriously though. It was completely shite and I can't believe Uma actually signed up to it. What was she thinking?? It could have been called "How I hate women and can you believe that at some point I've probably gotten laid?". And I'd be all like, no, really - I can't. Because you repluse me.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Helpful
Just in case having a vagina has made *you* unable to figure out what is appropriate to wear to work. Lucky, because I was planning to wear my bondage suit and gimp mask.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Holy Crap - it's snowing! Cue immediate doom and catastrophe.
The much promised snow has arrived and to celebrate, the whole of the South East has plunged into hysterical chaos. I shit you not. London is carnage - enter at your own risk. Let's face it, if you *do* go in, there is no guarantee you'll ever get out again. Alive. Or at least for a few hours. You'll probably be hungry anyway. And a bit cold.
The day started promisingly. Get to station and find train only 5 minutes late, despite coming in from the Cotswolds, which seems to have some sort of doom-ray effect on train scheduling at the best of times. A commuter comes off the phone - he has discovered that there is No Tube. There is some muttering, people with lap tops look this up. He is fear-mongering - there is Some Tube. Or, to be precise, the Victoria Line. Which is notable because it is *absolutely no use* to 90% of the commuters on the train. But, there are also No Buses. Muttering gets louder and a bit more hysterical. Some people exit the train at the next stop, having happily discovered they don't need to go to work. Then - Paddington station is closed! Oh, the panic! Where will we end up? Stranded at Slough? Luckily, this only refers to the underground, which is pretty helpful. Will have to walk to the City.
Only problem is that I have no idea how to walk to the City. My geography of London only exists through the map of the Underground. Someone helpfully directs me. Should take an hour. Hah! HAAAAH. 45 minutes later, am still delicately tripping along Oxford St as the pavement and roads resemble a giant ice rink. Give up and attempt the central line. Takes another 20mins to get on tube and am wedged into someone's armpit. This, I think cheerfully, is more like a normal day on the central line. Jolly good. Emerge to voicemail from a colleague telling me to give up and go home. At 10am. After an hour and an half of valiant struggling. Apparently colleagues in far away places like Marylebone and Clapham have decided they can't get in. Have small but violent fit outside of the Royal Exchange. Tramp back to tube station in vile mood and narrowly avoid being speared in the eye by icicles falling off the ledges of trendy glass buildings. Spend another 2.5 hours getting home again. Prepare to make same pointless pilgrimage tomorrow.
What is truly wonderful (or terrifying, depending how you look at it) is that everyone else tramping the streets of London is also having a similar experience, so the capital is like somewhere that has been infected by a virus inducing temporary but violent tourette-like outbursts. Awesome.
On the plus side, I took some great photos with my phone of the snowy City. If I could work out how to upload them, I totally would. But, you know. Meh. It's snow. In London. You can imagine it.
The day started promisingly. Get to station and find train only 5 minutes late, despite coming in from the Cotswolds, which seems to have some sort of doom-ray effect on train scheduling at the best of times. A commuter comes off the phone - he has discovered that there is No Tube. There is some muttering, people with lap tops look this up. He is fear-mongering - there is Some Tube. Or, to be precise, the Victoria Line. Which is notable because it is *absolutely no use* to 90% of the commuters on the train. But, there are also No Buses. Muttering gets louder and a bit more hysterical. Some people exit the train at the next stop, having happily discovered they don't need to go to work. Then - Paddington station is closed! Oh, the panic! Where will we end up? Stranded at Slough? Luckily, this only refers to the underground, which is pretty helpful. Will have to walk to the City.
Only problem is that I have no idea how to walk to the City. My geography of London only exists through the map of the Underground. Someone helpfully directs me. Should take an hour. Hah! HAAAAH. 45 minutes later, am still delicately tripping along Oxford St as the pavement and roads resemble a giant ice rink. Give up and attempt the central line. Takes another 20mins to get on tube and am wedged into someone's armpit. This, I think cheerfully, is more like a normal day on the central line. Jolly good. Emerge to voicemail from a colleague telling me to give up and go home. At 10am. After an hour and an half of valiant struggling. Apparently colleagues in far away places like Marylebone and Clapham have decided they can't get in. Have small but violent fit outside of the Royal Exchange. Tramp back to tube station in vile mood and narrowly avoid being speared in the eye by icicles falling off the ledges of trendy glass buildings. Spend another 2.5 hours getting home again. Prepare to make same pointless pilgrimage tomorrow.
What is truly wonderful (or terrifying, depending how you look at it) is that everyone else tramping the streets of London is also having a similar experience, so the capital is like somewhere that has been infected by a virus inducing temporary but violent tourette-like outbursts. Awesome.
On the plus side, I took some great photos with my phone of the snowy City. If I could work out how to upload them, I totally would. But, you know. Meh. It's snow. In London. You can imagine it.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Right and Wrong
RIGHT: I've spent the last few days waiting for this and how glad am I that it's finally arrived? Very. In fact, the last few days have been a wondrous magical ride of actual competent policy decisions. Maybe McCain did get elected and I threw myself under a bus after all...
WRONG: This. I am appalled by the actions of the BBC and think it is completely disgusting. We have now donated to the DEC and I suggest you all do the same. Not only as a huge "Fuck you" to the BBC, but because these people really need our help.
WRONG: This. I am appalled by the actions of the BBC and think it is completely disgusting. We have now donated to the DEC and I suggest you all do the same. Not only as a huge "Fuck you" to the BBC, but because these people really need our help.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Business as usual
A sure contender for most pointless, pseudo-scientific, shitty research report of 2009.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Woo - Obama!
Just watched the concert in Washington DC. Obama is so great. Weird moment with "you'll never walk alone" and Bono is just an arse. Other than that, fab.
Just because I know you missed my constant and gratuitous Obama-doration. I like to think of this as a free week. Enjoy.
Just because I know you missed my constant and gratuitous Obama-doration. I like to think of this as a free week. Enjoy.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
A Bin of One's Own
The Christmas holiday passed in a blur of flu (me), motorway travel (us) and norovirus (the SO's family). Despite this, a good time was - hopefully - had by all and it was a bit of a disappointment to arrive back at work on Monday to an 8am meeting in London. Gah.
Other depressing highlights of the week included:
(1) The deepening of the Gaza conflict. I've made a conscious decision not to write about this on here in any detail - there are other places that people can read more informed opinions and although this has never really stopped me before, this issue is such a minefield I think I should probably stay out of it blogwise. So I shall simply say that I don't support Israel's actions and leave it there.
(2) Discovering that my train ticket had gone up by approx £50 and the Sorry-for-Being-Completely-Shit FGW discount might be about to be scrapped. Apparently there is no punishment for being *merely* shit. You have to be Catastrophically Shit. Entertainingly, having forked out the cash for the ticket, the train then broke down at Reading. Although given it was the Stupidly Early train due to the horrible 8am Monday meeting, I was less than entertained at the time.
(3) Prince Harry. A man whose very existence is depressing enough, but always manages to make things worse whenever he opens his mouth.
(4) Having a desk-move at work and ending up without a bin. It's been a surprise to discover that a bin is actually an office essential for me and I feel bereft without it. How else to dispose of the sneaky chocolate wrappers/lunch receipts/embarrassing fibre supplement wrappers? Now my rubbish lies open to the scrutiny of others as it resides in their bins. And I should mention that one of my members has *already* commented on the rubbish I've put in her bin, so this is not an empty worry - although probably would be less of a problem if the person I was sitting next to was, in fact, sane.
(5) Talking about the interest rate cut at work and having a colleague brightly say "That's why David Cameron is talking about helping savers!" as though he'd single-handedly come up with an idea to save the world and that *if only* he was in power, interest rates would miraculously go up to 4.5% for saving purposes and 0% for mortgage rates. I couldn't really think of an appropriate response that wasn't "WTF??" and it was only the first week in my new team, so I let that one go.
Just got to hold on until Easter now...
Other depressing highlights of the week included:
(1) The deepening of the Gaza conflict. I've made a conscious decision not to write about this on here in any detail - there are other places that people can read more informed opinions and although this has never really stopped me before, this issue is such a minefield I think I should probably stay out of it blogwise. So I shall simply say that I don't support Israel's actions and leave it there.
(2) Discovering that my train ticket had gone up by approx £50 and the Sorry-for-Being-Completely-Shit FGW discount might be about to be scrapped. Apparently there is no punishment for being *merely* shit. You have to be Catastrophically Shit. Entertainingly, having forked out the cash for the ticket, the train then broke down at Reading. Although given it was the Stupidly Early train due to the horrible 8am Monday meeting, I was less than entertained at the time.
(3) Prince Harry. A man whose very existence is depressing enough, but always manages to make things worse whenever he opens his mouth.
(4) Having a desk-move at work and ending up without a bin. It's been a surprise to discover that a bin is actually an office essential for me and I feel bereft without it. How else to dispose of the sneaky chocolate wrappers/lunch receipts/embarrassing fibre supplement wrappers? Now my rubbish lies open to the scrutiny of others as it resides in their bins. And I should mention that one of my members has *already* commented on the rubbish I've put in her bin, so this is not an empty worry - although probably would be less of a problem if the person I was sitting next to was, in fact, sane.
(5) Talking about the interest rate cut at work and having a colleague brightly say "That's why David Cameron is talking about helping savers!" as though he'd single-handedly come up with an idea to save the world and that *if only* he was in power, interest rates would miraculously go up to 4.5% for saving purposes and 0% for mortgage rates. I couldn't really think of an appropriate response that wasn't "WTF??" and it was only the first week in my new team, so I let that one go.
Just got to hold on until Easter now...
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Festive Cheer
Almost Christmas now and I am hugely excited. Ill, but excited. Still, feverish is probably the best state to be in. Feverish and swollen.
Still, just a couple of days to go. Although I will gripe about the endless round of family and motorways, Christmas is my favourite time of year and I will enjoy it immensely. Hurrah! If with less good health and a diminished appetite.
It would be remiss of me to enter the festive season without a small amount of bile and contempt. So I leave you this article to remind everyone that feminism still has a long way to go... As does the war against ignorant morons.
Merry Christmas!
Still, just a couple of days to go. Although I will gripe about the endless round of family and motorways, Christmas is my favourite time of year and I will enjoy it immensely. Hurrah! If with less good health and a diminished appetite.
It would be remiss of me to enter the festive season without a small amount of bile and contempt. So I leave you this article to remind everyone that feminism still has a long way to go... As does the war against ignorant morons.
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Shocking News!
“Research shows that the bigger allowance you get from Mom and Dad,” explained Andrew M. Sum, director of Northeastern’s center, “the less likely you are to work.”
My God. My value system has been totally shaken.
My God. My value system has been totally shaken.
Friday, December 12, 2008
All the rage
Things that have annoyed me this week:
1) The Miss London-University-my-breasts-are-empowered contests. Gah – how much more self-justification do we need to hear from the contestants/organiser before I’d have a credible case for throttling them with my thermal leggings? My favourite quote comes from the contestant who believes we “are in post-feminism”, as though feminism was a foreign country you could occasionally visit but, to be honest, you wouldn’t really want to live there. Good God, do I really have to explain this – when you’re striding around in underwear thinking “my goodness, having my waist and breasts measured is a jolly good laugh and look how empowered I am” men are *not* thinking “gosh, what a strong woman. I admire and respect her. How empowered she must be!”. They are thinking: “Look at her tits. Quite like to give her a good banging”. So either you’re deluded, or if you think the latter thought *is* empowering, you need therapy. Take your pick. (And I should mention that I have absolutely no problem with telling these women that they’re deluded because – for god’s sake – They Just Are. And they’ve given us sodding empirical evidence that this is the case)
2) David Cameron whinnying about the economy. Does he have any sensible suggestions to make? No? Then Shut Up.
3) Plane Stupid. There is nothing I hate more than obnoxious, middle class teenagers with a huge sense of their own entitlement whining about things and making life more difficult for people who are actually trying to do things, to make themselves feel better. Stop being so immature and actually do something constructive if you’re so worried. I also don’t like this movement as it always seems to be about the middle-classes feeling outraged that poor people actually get to go on holiday. All those people stuck at the airport for days? On easy jet flights. If it was only, you know, *business class* and people going skiing, there wouldn’t be so much pollution, would there? And who else but the trust-funded could afford to take 3 months out to cycle down to Italy for a wedding (which is an actual example from a colleague of guests at her wedding who refuse to fly)?
4) The Times article claiming that parents need to be pushy to make sure that their children do well at University. No, they don’t. They need to get a life. As, presumably, should their poor, over-protected children. No wonder they chain themselves to airport fences.
The general theme here seems to be that *posh* people have this week really pissed me off. One day I will have children that will fall into this category, but I can only promise that I will raise them in such a way that they will never enter beauty contests, become leader of the Conservative party or chain themselves to parts of airports.
1) The Miss London-University-my-breasts-are-empowered contests. Gah – how much more self-justification do we need to hear from the contestants/organiser before I’d have a credible case for throttling them with my thermal leggings? My favourite quote comes from the contestant who believes we “are in post-feminism”, as though feminism was a foreign country you could occasionally visit but, to be honest, you wouldn’t really want to live there. Good God, do I really have to explain this – when you’re striding around in underwear thinking “my goodness, having my waist and breasts measured is a jolly good laugh and look how empowered I am” men are *not* thinking “gosh, what a strong woman. I admire and respect her. How empowered she must be!”. They are thinking: “Look at her tits. Quite like to give her a good banging”. So either you’re deluded, or if you think the latter thought *is* empowering, you need therapy. Take your pick. (And I should mention that I have absolutely no problem with telling these women that they’re deluded because – for god’s sake – They Just Are. And they’ve given us sodding empirical evidence that this is the case)
2) David Cameron whinnying about the economy. Does he have any sensible suggestions to make? No? Then Shut Up.
3) Plane Stupid. There is nothing I hate more than obnoxious, middle class teenagers with a huge sense of their own entitlement whining about things and making life more difficult for people who are actually trying to do things, to make themselves feel better. Stop being so immature and actually do something constructive if you’re so worried. I also don’t like this movement as it always seems to be about the middle-classes feeling outraged that poor people actually get to go on holiday. All those people stuck at the airport for days? On easy jet flights. If it was only, you know, *business class* and people going skiing, there wouldn’t be so much pollution, would there? And who else but the trust-funded could afford to take 3 months out to cycle down to Italy for a wedding (which is an actual example from a colleague of guests at her wedding who refuse to fly)?
4) The Times article claiming that parents need to be pushy to make sure that their children do well at University. No, they don’t. They need to get a life. As, presumably, should their poor, over-protected children. No wonder they chain themselves to airport fences.
The general theme here seems to be that *posh* people have this week really pissed me off. One day I will have children that will fall into this category, but I can only promise that I will raise them in such a way that they will never enter beauty contests, become leader of the Conservative party or chain themselves to parts of airports.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Funny Farm
I've been planning lots of long posts in my head at work (although, because I am *very* busy and important, I cannot post from work) but too tired to actually blog once I get home. I'm finding the commute exhausting at the moment - 2hrs each way is a little much, especially as I'm actually expected to work once I arrive - what is that about? Still, I chose to work in the City, so I shouldn't complain. Much. Zombified.
Anyway, after the end of the US elections, it took a little while to remember what I did all day other than sit in my little cubicle crying whilst reading transcripts of Obama speeches. And voting stories. And wondering if I'd have to walk in front of a bus or something if he didn't win, because that would be an indication that the world was terminally fucked (I've seen two accidents involving buses since I started work in the city and it's pretty darn scary). Apparently I used to laugh a lot at right wing loons in the UK.
Heh. Lot of that going round at the moment. What with the whole BNP-membership-reveal etc etc. One of the shocking things was that you could get family membership for £40. What kind of nutcase signs their children up to any political party, let alone a crazy extreme right-wing one? Good grief. I have no sympathy whatsoever for any of them - they don't have to join the BNP, so the very fact that they're now all whining about it being made public suggests they know that they're doing something wrong. Let's face it, it's easier to be a smug bigot when you're going to secret meetings. No, I am all for making political party membership public anyway.
And I hate intolerant racist bigots who blame all their problems on immigration. And then try to claim they're just like everyone else. No, you're not. You're pathetic and delusional.
Grrr.
Friday tomorrow though. Which means *wine*. I am bravely clawing my way through to tomorrow evening, when I shall self-meditate and no doubt drunkenly rant until the wee hours. Or 9.30pm, when exhaustion overwhelms me and I have to go to bed. I am completely lame.
Anyway, after the end of the US elections, it took a little while to remember what I did all day other than sit in my little cubicle crying whilst reading transcripts of Obama speeches. And voting stories. And wondering if I'd have to walk in front of a bus or something if he didn't win, because that would be an indication that the world was terminally fucked (I've seen two accidents involving buses since I started work in the city and it's pretty darn scary). Apparently I used to laugh a lot at right wing loons in the UK.
Heh. Lot of that going round at the moment. What with the whole BNP-membership-reveal etc etc. One of the shocking things was that you could get family membership for £40. What kind of nutcase signs their children up to any political party, let alone a crazy extreme right-wing one? Good grief. I have no sympathy whatsoever for any of them - they don't have to join the BNP, so the very fact that they're now all whining about it being made public suggests they know that they're doing something wrong. Let's face it, it's easier to be a smug bigot when you're going to secret meetings. No, I am all for making political party membership public anyway.
And I hate intolerant racist bigots who blame all their problems on immigration. And then try to claim they're just like everyone else. No, you're not. You're pathetic and delusional.
Grrr.
Friday tomorrow though. Which means *wine*. I am bravely clawing my way through to tomorrow evening, when I shall self-meditate and no doubt drunkenly rant until the wee hours. Or 9.30pm, when exhaustion overwhelms me and I have to go to bed. I am completely lame.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Incredible Happiness
which, incidentally, is what I'm feeling about the results of the US elections.
Hurrah!
Hurrah!
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Election!
Woo - it's 1am and I'm up watching the US election coverage. Stop dithering about not being able to call states! Come on CNN (sadly we can't get MSNBC, which I'm pretty darn upset about). Man up.
Ooh - MSNBC is rumoured to have called Pennsylvania for Obama. Eek!
The excitement in the Heloise stronghold is palpable. We even had a special electoral tesco trip to get supplies for the long night ahead. The SO believes it will be a landslide for Obama. I'm less sure, mainly because I'm so nervous...
I am hoping for a landslide, as that will allow me to go to bed and actually get some sleep before work. Yeah. Sleep.
Ooh - MSNBC is rumoured to have called Pennsylvania for Obama. Eek!
The excitement in the Heloise stronghold is palpable. We even had a special electoral tesco trip to get supplies for the long night ahead. The SO believes it will be a landslide for Obama. I'm less sure, mainly because I'm so nervous...
I am hoping for a landslide, as that will allow me to go to bed and actually get some sleep before work. Yeah. Sleep.
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