Well thank f*** that’s over. I really don’t think I’m cut out for this daily blogging thing. But at least I’ve lasted the course, which doesn’t usually happen where I’m concerned!
Huge thank yous to those readers that have stuck with me, and for those of you that have been put off by the frequency of my rambling/ranting, I can’t say I blame you.
Writing a post per day has certainly forced me to come up with variety and brevity. Many topics have been covered, from boobs to dudes, from feminism to fashion… I think I knew I was scraping the barrel when I found myself writing about pet accessories. So I’m now going to take a couple of weeks off. See you in December!
5 reasons why I love the internet:
- I’ve done 90% of my Christmas shopping without leaving my desk
- Imagine doing a university degree, complete with coursework, without Google
- Even though we live hundreds of miles apart, my friends and I can still speak face to face regularly
- I can arrange dates without having some boozy oaf blasting his beer breath all over me
For my family and me, the term ‘pet accessories’ isn’t one that’s really used, despite having two cats and a (mental) dog. ‘Stuff for the animals’ is a more commonly used phrase, and consists of the basics – leads, collars, whistles, brushes, and a few really manky towels for when the dog has decided to roll in a dead badger. So you might imagine my reaction when I went into the pet department in Harrods this evening.
Now, I had been there before, and had a vague memory of a four-poster lace canopy dog bed, but that was about it. I was not prepared for the rows of Christmas-themed toys, the shiny array of bling-tastic collars and harnesses, or the food counter that most humans would have salivated at. Pheasant-infused doggy cupcake anyone?
Harrods hoody for your pooch
A dog-sized Barbour jacket!
Sod getting excited about a new baby, a new animal in the house is something to celebrate
Not going to lie, these biscuits actually looked pretty damn good
Oh come on…
And yet, despite my incredulity at mini cashmere doggy jumpers that cost £450, and smart leather bags in which to tote your new best friend around, I did find myself wanting an excuse to buy some of it. I know, I’m ashamed of myself. Consumer culture at its worst – let’s buy clothes for something that 100% doesn’t need them. Maybe when I’m a bored childless housewife with an errant banker-wanker husband, I’ll get myself a pack of pint-sized pooches and dress them all in Burberry.
In my opinion, one of the positives of this whole online dating malarkey is that you can get to know someone on your own terms, on your own time, and get all of the boring what-do-you-do-where-do-you-come-from stuff out of the way without desperately looking for the nearest exit from the bar. I’m not averse to guys asking questions, it is after all a natural part of assessing someone’s personality and making a slightly more informed decision on whether you’d want to go on a date with that person.
However, there are different approaches when it comes to directing questions. From my experience so far, the casual insert-the-odd-question-into-a-longer-message option seems to work best. More inquisitive, less nosy. Then there’s the less subtle track: ‘Wanna go for drinks then my place tonight hot stuff??’ Erm, no. And then there’s the overload-and-hope-for-the-best tactic.
Can you tell me about yourself?? like…..
what is you’re greatest quality or trait?
if money wasnt an issue and you could visit any place , where would it be and why?
which animal do you most relate to?
if you could acquire a certain skill without the risk of failure or without putting any effort, what skilll would you acquire and why?
what movie or book do you like most?
whats your greatest passion in life?
ok..last question…..kinda weird, but what do you think of your nose??!!………………….. lol…its good..i like it..seems to give you a personality! anyhow…..
Yes this was all one message, and yes it was the first message I’d ever received from this guy. Given my pedantry when it comes to grammar and punctuation, he was never on to a winner in the first place. Also, way to go on making me even more insecure about my nose! Maybe he’s missed out on a career as an interrogation specialist…
Here’s another extract from an online dating inbox of mine:
Hey, listen, I’m just going to be straight forward with you, so that I don’t waste your time. I’m A***** and I think that you are stunning.
So far so good…
I really haven’t got time for a relationship, plus I’m too picky, but I miss the physical stuff: kissing, cuddling, I love pleasuring, my partner : like going down, fingering and whatever.
Ok, clearly after a sex friend (or whatever terminology you’d like to use), plus poor use of punctuation. Both immediately cancel this guy out but might as well read to the end of the message.
I don’t mind sex and prefer not to receive, it just doesn’t do much for me plus I see it as disrespectful towards the girl.
‘Prefer not to receive’?! Does that mean he just wants to, erm, service but not get anything in return? And receiving the attentions of a girl doesn’t do much for him?? Either this guy is sexually confused or is just plain odd.
Would you be interested for something like that?
No, I wouldn’t. And guess how old this guy was.
Nineteen!!! Well done internet, you’ve thrown up yet another weird one. Bravo.
Every so often, I feel the ultimate indulgence is having an extremely lazy weekend, and for the last two days that is exactly what I’ve been doing. I haven’t gone out, I haven’t worn makeup, I haven’t drunk any alcohol. The only reasons for leaving the house have been to buy food and go on a very short run. I’ve spent a large amount of time in bed, I’ve watched a huge amount of TV (rugby, Xfactor, more rugby, more Xfactor – ideal!) and I’ve eaten a disgusting amount of food.
Now that it’s Sunday night and Monday morning is looming, do I feel slightly guilty about my weekend of being a duvet slug? Only in terms of calories consumed. Even though the only people I’ve seen have been my housemates, that’s ok. The past month has seen a run of incredibly social and booze-infused weekends. So I think I’ve deserved a couple of days of being a slob. My liver has had a break, so has my bank card. I’m calling that a win.
Tonight saw the premiere of a new Coca Cola Christmas advert. We were taken to some unspecified snow-covered country, there was a manic pixie girl cover of an Elvis song, and the content was basically people being filled with Christmas and
Coke Cola-inspired generosity of spirit.
Now, given that ITV gave us a little announcement that a ‘very special’ advert was coming up, I was expecting a lot more. I wanted something more emotive, more exciting, something that was going to put the Coca Cola lorries to shame. Ad execs, you’ve let me down.
And how ridiculous is it that I felt let down?? It’s an advertisement for crying out loud! Perhaps with the standard of adverts that we see on TV now, we’re now expecting more of a mini-movie than a 30-second plug. If we think of what the John Lewis Christmas advert has achieved in the last few years (Number One singles, millions of YouTube hits, Facebook statuses of ‘OMG I’m crying my eyes out!), the competition for companies to create something that resonates with and affects us is fierce.
At the end of the day, no matter how good or bad a Coca Cola advert is, I’m still not going to buy the stuff. Hate it. But for some weird reason I still want to see something that makes me feel Christmassy and gives me that warm n’ fuzzy feeling. And if that isn’t a symptom of the 21st century, I don’t know what is.
It’s Friday night, I’m tired and hungover, this is what I’m doing…
…and therefore that is the sum total of my blogging efforts for today. Roll on November 30th.
So it seems that ‘selfie’ has been named as word of the year by Oxford Dictionaries. Maybe it’s time I embraced the selfie concept and started snapping pictures of myself in various locations and then posting these pictures on various social media sites. The only problem is, I just don’t think my face is all that interesting. Who wants to see it on a regular basis?
Writing a blog is narcissistic enough, why add to the online self-validation by Instragraming my visage every time I go to Sainsburys, or am in the gym, or am queuing to get into a club? Maybe if I led a more interesting life where I met more interesting people (subtext: celebrities) on a regular basis, then I’d selfie like mad. But I don’t, so I won’t.
It’s true that 2013 has been the year of the selfie. My Facebook feed is cluttered with people posting photos of their own face and nothing but their own face: ‘Check out my new hair colour!’, ‘Tired face!’, ‘Happy face!!’, ‘This is me waiting for the bus!!!’. Sorry peeps, I’m just not interested.
Fair enough, many people may have the same sentiment about my blog, especially at the moment with me advertising the thing on Facebook every damn day (hang in there folks, only 11 more posts to go). But hey, at least I’m not forcing everyone to gaze at my face and try to reach some conclusion about what is so fascinating about it.
I’ve just looked through my phone to see if there’s a single selfie on there. The only one I found is below. Nuff said.