Tag Archives: women

I Shall Consider Myself Successful,


to no small extent, 

on the day that I find myself being the one saying – without any shadow of my own doubt – “hang in there, it’ll happen” to another human being. Preferably a youthful, decidedly green, almost-pretty-but-somehow-not-quite, apprehensive and excruciatingly self-aware human being in possession of her own troublesome pair of X chromosomes. 

Then, and also on the first ever morning that I wake up from a pleasant dream.  





Silent Sunday 24/02/13

Silent Sunday [I ATEN'T DEAD]


Sorry For The Rant, But…

I live directly opposite my village’s primary school.

I have never quite been able to understand why an apparent majority of parents of the young children in the village (and I’m sure the same goes for children attending their local primary schools everywhere) choose to drive said offspring to school when said school cannot possibly more than around a ten-minute walk away.

That’s right, Mums and Dads; I’m suggesting that it would be better for you to (shock, horror) get off your fat lazy arses and walk your young ones to school. Put one foot in front of the other a few times a day. It probably won’t kill you, and it definitely won’t kill the kid(s). And if it is likely to kill you that’s probably in large part due to the fact that it’s been so long since you last did such a thing – which would account for how your lazy ass got so fat. I mean, is there any wonder childhood obesity is a growing problem in this country? By chauffeuring your brats to and from the other end of the same damn road you live on you are encouraging them to be incredibly lazy too.

No you are not pushed for time, and no you will not be late for work; getting up ten minutes earlier to allow for a casual hundred-metre stroll will not kill you any more than will the use of your legs’ full potential.

If your children happen to be older than, say, eight; why can’t they walk to school by themselves or with other children who live nearby? This is a small village and there are plenty of other kids and parents going the same way; nothing terrible will happen to them so long as they possess a shred of common sense and you’ve taught them such essentials as look-both-ways-and-listen-for-traffic-before-crossing-roads, and don’t-talk-to-strangers.

(This is a village. Everyone knows everyone’s business. There basically are no strangers, anyway).

Perhaps your ass isn’t fat and lazy; perhaps you’re one of those who drive your kids to school because you find it difficult to walk in those new Prada heels and that figure-hugging pencil skirt you’re desperate to show off – crowning glory as they are of the ‘yummy mummy’ image you’re trying to project.

Or perhaps you want to show us all how well-off and respectable you are through the medium of that fancy new car you’re driving?

Well I’m sorry, but unfortunately for your maxed-out credit card/chief exec hubby, most of us don’t give two hoots about that stuff either. At least, not beyond wishing you’d move your status symbol from across the bottom of our drive so we can get the youngest members of our own family to their school (six miles away – does not provide a bus service to this locality) on time. And we’d appreciate you doing so without the (excessively-lipsticked) stuck-up-bitch pout, please. Thanks.



Rant Over. Hastily-Carved-Cat-(mini)Pumpkin:


Challenge Day 5

Things You Want To Say To An Ex. 

I’m loving the fact that I can think of (almost) absolutely nothing, here. No matter which ex (of which there is technically only one) or which technically-not-an-ex-because-we-were-never-really-properly-together (of which I would say there are one and a half).

One thing I would say, to anyone who ever threw me away; if you could see all of your own flaws the way I can picture them now (and cringe a little as I do) you might just begin to regret treating me like… well, like I wasn’t worth very much, I suppose.

I’m not ruling out the idea that perhaps you were right and I wasn’t; in which case thanks for the the things you made me learn about myself and about life, and for the way that  by making me learn said things, you helped to make me a better person in some ways than I was when I met you.

I’d also say that Yes, you were right; I can do better.

(I’d also love to say that you were right when you called me amazing/beautiful/sexy/awesome/brilliant/adorable/perfect, but that would require a bit more of an ego than I currently possess. So instead I’ll just quietly hope that you meant those things when you said them).

I like to think that not only could I do better, but that I will do better.

I like to think that some day I might mean the world to that ‘better man than you’ that you once told me it would take, to stick around with someone like me.



Challenge: Day 3

Except I swapped, so I’m doing day 2 today;

Something I feel strongly about.

This is difficult. I’ve been mulling this one over all day, and very few proper issues spring to mind as mattering all that much to me. It would seem I don’t really do feeling strongly at the moment. Sure, I get passive-aggressively angry about quite a few daft little things such as cans without ringpulls, the language used by women’s magazines to covertly bully us all into thinking pretty hair and handbags and sex are the keys to happiness in life… people who chew their food loudly and/or eat with their mouths open, people who walk slowly down busy streets, the continued existence of One Direction, Chris Brown, Flo Rida, Pitbull, Katy Perry…

Actually, I’ll pull up there.

I do feel almost capable of a quick rant (after all, there are only 39 minutes left of ‘today’ in which to complete this post right now) about the general crappiness of the music I keep hearing on the airwaves these days.

Y’see, I have had the same 4 CDs in my car for roughly the past year. All of them are mix CDs, all of them are very old and very overplayed. I am too lazy to go to the trouble of making new ones or buying a stereo that my iPod – the iPod I’ve yet to buy and likely be too lazy to fill with music – will plug into. Having decided that hearing The Best Of 2 Years Ago, Mostly Pendulum, Mostly Skrillex or Mostly-Very-Questionable-Mosher -Stuff-That-My-Brother-Was-Into-At-One-Stage one more time might convince me to drive over the edge of the nearest cliff, I’ve had to resort to the radio lately.

I can get about seven different stations, (the old-and-clunky-ness of my car is an entirely separate issue, by the way) and tend to spend the majority of my half-hour drives to and from work irritably flicking from one to the next and growling to myself. Because in between the adverts and the usually-not-very-entertaining chit-chat, games and whatever else, the music that tends to be played tends to… kinda suck. Carly Rae Jepsen, ‘Call me maybe’. ‘We Are Young’, by Fun. ‘Drive By’, by Train. You might remember my earlier grumblings about Justin Bieber and Big Sean and their atrocious lyric-writing efforts. Well, how about the lead singer of Train being;

– “Just a shy guy, looking for a two ply, hefty bag to hold my (ah ah ah ah ah ah) love” ?

…Or – not quite so current, but – on the topic of lyrical depth how about that gem from Katy Perry;

– “This is the part of me that you’ll never ever ever take away from me” ?


– “Do you ever feel, like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?”

Katy, sweetheart… You can’t rhyme a word with the very same word. And I’m…I’m not too sure plastic bags have feelings, much less regrets about the way their lives have turned out. D minus, try harder. Sorry.

From Chris Brown, this little piece of genius;

– “Turn it up (just dance with me)

Turn it up (just dance with me)

Turn it up (just dance with me)

Turn it up (just dance with me)

Turn it up (just dance with me)

Turn it up (just dance with me)

Turn it up (just dance with me)”

Meanwhile, Rihanna is pretty desperate for us not to forget that she found love in a hopeless place; she found love in a hopeless place, she found love in a hopeless place… she found love in a hope, less, place.

Not only are these supposed ‘artists’ churning out repetitive generic music and mindless, heartless, soulless Four Chord Songs,  they still seem to find the task of making one song in any way distinguishable from all their others, just too difficult. So little originality teamed with so little effort; makes me glad that pretty much no-one pays to own this stuff any more.

The absolute worst right now, though, has to be this;

Please, please. People. Stop buying into this shite. Please. I already joined ’em for three years, pretending to like this stuff because everyone I lived with did. Enough is too much; I would really prefer to beat ’em.

Now, if you’ll excuse me…

I’mma party.

I’m gon’ dance.

…Put your hands upon my body?

(On my body, on my body, put your hands upon mah-mah-mah-

…No. No. Pass me  Dodgy Mosher Shit Mix CD 2, please? Please).


Not How the Story Goes

…And so Cinderella, no longer able to sing like the wild birds whose company she preferred, no longer able to let down her hair, wildly afraid of the beast she was supposed to have fallen in love with and frustrated in her realisation that the waking world could never meet the expectations built up in her hundred years of beauteous slumber – no matter how handsome the prince whose kiss had awoken her – took James Bond’s revolver, pressed the cold steel of the barrel hard against the delicate flesh beneath her chin and threw back her head, her glorious blood-red curls shining in the moonlight as they tumbled down her back.

Do you believe in God? written on the bullet; and Cassie Pulled the Trigger.


I Said What Kinda Man Makes Cappuccino…

I was randomly reminded, today,

(‘randomly’; I can hear my Dad flinching, then angrily ranting, at my use of that word. Like he does with ‘like’.  Like like like like like)

Of this:

Screw Katy Perry and her total lack of originality; P!nk’s One That Got Away came first, and was better.

I saw her on this tour.

In Sheffield. Someone somewhere had made her a papier-maché camp fire for this song, and it got passed all the way to her from the back of the crowd. ^-^

“I don’t really know how to wear dresses, yet. I’m learning.”

She’s so cute, I love her.

Happy Sunday; have some good new-fashioned fun, y’all.


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