In today's mixed up world where genders change as frequently as the Sugababe's line up and anyone who's anyone is bisexual, how are folk meant to know if they're gay or just a bit curious? It's hard, I know, so to make it easier, I've compiled a gay test. This one's just for the men - sorry girls, but if you're at all confused just open your wardrobe. If there are any pairs of dungarees in there then you have your answer. For men it's more complicated, and so to the test. Answer honestly.
1)Look at your top ten favourite CDs. Each CD can fall into one of four categories. Cateogory A is for heavy metal, indie, rap, hip hop and singer/songwriters no ones ever heard of. Category B is for boy bands, girl bands, mixed bands (e.g. Steps), female pop stars and musicals. Category C is for country, rnb and dance music. Category D is for jazz. Category D isn't an indicator of sexuality, I just thought it was unfair for the other genres to have to be lumped in with jazz.
Now, if you're category is 50% Category B or more, you have 10 G points.
25% up to 50% Category B: 5 G points.
10% up to 25% Category B: 1 G point.
You still with me? Good. A G point is a Gay point, as I'm sure you'll have gathered. The more you get the gayer you are. Believe me I should know, I'm practically made of G points.
50% Category A or more: Have 10 S points, go on, treat yourself.
S points cancel out G points, so technically if your CD top ten was made up of 5 metallica and 5 Spice Girls, you'd be even stevens. Technically...
2) The yes or no round.
Did you cry at Titanic?
Do you own a trilby?
Can you name all 4 Sex and the City ladies?
Did you spend most of your PE lessons in High School faking injuries?
Do you drink funky cocktails and hate bitter?
Do you ever use the word 'fabulous?'
Do you prefer 'Will and Grace' to 'Friends'?
Do you know the dance routine to 5,6,7,8?
Do you hate: the Matrix, Star Wars and Doctor Who?
Do you have sex with men?
The last one may be a bit subtle, but overall I think it's quite clear that a yes constitutes a G point. A No constitutes an S point. Tot em up.
3)
True or False* Your friends are mainly women
* You check your hair constantly
* The Britney Spears official fansite is listed on your labtop under 'favourites'
* You are or have been: a vegetarian, a self harmer and pillhead
* To you the FA stands for how much interest you give it. Fuck All.
* You read Heat
* You love to do Karaoke, you do a great 'It's raining men'
* You don't wear pink
* You would rather spend the day with Madonna than Superman
* You think girls are really lucky because they get to wear make-up and wear high heels
Same as the yes/no, but this time a true is a G point and a false is an S point.
We've come to the end of this highly ridiculous, highly offensive, but highly accurate quiz.
There are 30 G points available, likewise there are 30 S points. The score can range from -30 (you're James Bond with a beard) to +30 (you're Alan Carr with a feather boa).
If you find yourself around 0 which you probably will if you were confused enough to take the test, then this means you're perfectly normal, but should probably shag a guy soon just to be sure. You know where I am.
Tuesday 1 April 2008
The Gay Test
Monday 31 March 2008
The future of Eastenders is bright. The future of Eastenders is orange.
Tonight see's the return of one of Soap's greatest characters. The ginger whinger herself, Bianca Jackson/Butcher. And without sounding like a geriatric harping on at his bored grand children, it doesn't half take me back to the days when Eastender's was must see TV. I remember being on the edge of my seat as a youngster, watching Bianca cheat on gormless Rickaay with her Mother's orange boyfriend. These days on Eastenders it takes someone being buried alive to get your full attention. What changed? When did Eastender's stop being the addictive Soap that I grew up with? Remember its slogan back in the day? Everyone's talking about it. They've stopped using that now, and I don't think that's a coincidence.
Nowadays I only tune in for special occasions - Christmas, deaths and returns of big characters. Seems I'm not the only one who feels this way considering The Eastender's bosses have gone to great lengths over the last few years to lure back the characters that made it's heyday so special.
First it was Dirty Den, making a "sensational" comeback from the dead. Maybe it was the scripts that needed bringing back from the dead, not that creepy, old perve. Still, it got them the temporary ratings boost they wanted. Then of course he had to be re-killed after Leslie Grantham, the actor who played him, was caught masturbating on webcam. They didn't call him Dirty Den for nothing..
Next it was the Mitchells that BBC bosses shelled out hundreds of thousands to get back. Did anyone even notice Grant coming back? And did anyone even notice that Phil had left? Heaven knows why the Eastender's bosses think of Phil Mitchell as such an integral part of the show. He's single handedly made subtitles necessary for all viewing of the show with his inaudible mumblings, yet is apparantly one of it's stars? Baffling.
And now we have Bianca. I'm interested to see what story they're going to use in order to plausibly bring her back considering she no longer has any family left in Walford. I wouldn't be surprised if they went all 'Dallas' on us and claimed the last five years had all been a dream sequence and that Bianca had in fact never left. After all, this is the Soap that has repeatedly expected us to believe that there are women out there who would fancy and even marry Ian Beale. Anything can happen.
I will be tuning in to see the return of one of my favourite characters, in spite of my critisisms. I'm just hoping they don't turn her into a charicature of what she was, having her screeching her infamous 'Rickaaaaaay!!!' every 5 minutes just because the script writers have run out of ideas. Maybe the problem is that instead of coming up with fresh characters and new story lines to entice viewers, bosses are instead being lazy and reaching for their wallets to get back old favourites when ratings are down.
As far as Patsy Palmer, the actress who plays Bianca, is concerned - I hope the return is successful and she can bring back a bit of the old Eastender's magic to the show. Assuming she manages to stay away from naughty webcam behaviour...
Nowadays I only tune in for special occasions - Christmas, deaths and returns of big characters. Seems I'm not the only one who feels this way considering The Eastender's bosses have gone to great lengths over the last few years to lure back the characters that made it's heyday so special.
First it was Dirty Den, making a "sensational" comeback from the dead. Maybe it was the scripts that needed bringing back from the dead, not that creepy, old perve. Still, it got them the temporary ratings boost they wanted. Then of course he had to be re-killed after Leslie Grantham, the actor who played him, was caught masturbating on webcam. They didn't call him Dirty Den for nothing..
Next it was the Mitchells that BBC bosses shelled out hundreds of thousands to get back. Did anyone even notice Grant coming back? And did anyone even notice that Phil had left? Heaven knows why the Eastender's bosses think of Phil Mitchell as such an integral part of the show. He's single handedly made subtitles necessary for all viewing of the show with his inaudible mumblings, yet is apparantly one of it's stars? Baffling.
And now we have Bianca. I'm interested to see what story they're going to use in order to plausibly bring her back considering she no longer has any family left in Walford. I wouldn't be surprised if they went all 'Dallas' on us and claimed the last five years had all been a dream sequence and that Bianca had in fact never left. After all, this is the Soap that has repeatedly expected us to believe that there are women out there who would fancy and even marry Ian Beale. Anything can happen.
I will be tuning in to see the return of one of my favourite characters, in spite of my critisisms. I'm just hoping they don't turn her into a charicature of what she was, having her screeching her infamous 'Rickaaaaaay!!!' every 5 minutes just because the script writers have run out of ideas. Maybe the problem is that instead of coming up with fresh characters and new story lines to entice viewers, bosses are instead being lazy and reaching for their wallets to get back old favourites when ratings are down.
As far as Patsy Palmer, the actress who plays Bianca, is concerned - I hope the return is successful and she can bring back a bit of the old Eastender's magic to the show. Assuming she manages to stay away from naughty webcam behaviour...
Sunday 30 March 2008
What a load of bollocks
I consider myself a very tolerant person when it comes to people who do gross things. When watching a programme last week about a brother and sister that one day decided to start shagging, I was of the opinion that even though it was revolting, I thought they should legally not be punished for it. I also don't judge people too much for picking their nose in public. I understand that sometimes your mind can drift and you can forget that other people can see you (particularily when you're in a car). See? I'm very tolerant and understanding.
However, I witnessed a video on the internet last night that was so disgusting it made me despair for mankind. It's part of a series of internet videos called the 'Pain Olympics' where people hurt themselves on film, I assume to prove how big and clever they are. The one I saw (the first, and the last one I shall be seeing) was called Hatchet VS Penis. And fair play to it, it did what it said on the tin.
I think it was two different men, though it was hard to make out through the gaps in my hands - one of them sawing off his penis with a knife, and one of them butchering their scrotum with a small hatchet. Not family viewing, I'm sure you'll agree.
My friend (and I use the term loosely) informed me of this video, and being the curious journalist I am I had to see it. I assumed it would be fake but after seeing it I really can't think how someone could have managed to fake something like that.
Which brings me to what I consider a couple of very important questions: What kind of sick people do things like this, film it, then post it on the internet? And secondly, what kind of sick people watch it? Me apparantly, would be the shameful answer to the second one.
Clearly, there are deep, mental issues involved here, and I won't spend time thinking about what kind of mental issues drive someone to do this. Like World Poverty and Hollyoaks, these things are best left ignored.
But as a decent(ish) citizen I feel I have to use the example to question what the internet is doing to society. Anyone who's familiar with these cult internet videos will probably have witnessed the following things:
Two women shitting into eachother's mouths.
A woman being shagged by a horse (she later died)
A woman being shagged by a dog.
Nice. Is this what entertainment is becoming? I remember the days when me and my friends used to crowd around in the playground in junior school and quote South Park, thinking it was the rudest, coolest thing in the world. South Park might as well be Songs of Praise after what I saw last night.
Reading the comments that were left on the video for Hatchet VS Penis, it seems a lot of people out there think that what those men did was very cool too. They even seemed to get a lot of respect for what they had... achieved?
Fair enough, they did something that not a lot of people could do - but does that mean it warrants respect? I know I don't have the balls to do it. But now, neither do they. And surely the hindrance that the lack of a penis entails can't be worth the twisted admiration of an internet audience? They didn't even get famous from it as their faces didn't even appear in the video, as the camera was busy getting close up to the gruesome details.
If this is the way that entertainment is going, I'm afraid I'm not going to be onboard.
They're just going to get more and more disgusting as people try to outdo eachother, and I don't want to see who manages to top Hatchet VS Penis.
Anyone who reads this may be curious to see the video, but I won't be providing a link, as I really wouldn't recommend it. It actually made me vomit. However, if you're anything like me, curiosity will get the better of you and you'll watch it regardless. And to those of you who do, all I can say is.. sorry.
However, I witnessed a video on the internet last night that was so disgusting it made me despair for mankind. It's part of a series of internet videos called the 'Pain Olympics' where people hurt themselves on film, I assume to prove how big and clever they are. The one I saw (the first, and the last one I shall be seeing) was called Hatchet VS Penis. And fair play to it, it did what it said on the tin.
I think it was two different men, though it was hard to make out through the gaps in my hands - one of them sawing off his penis with a knife, and one of them butchering their scrotum with a small hatchet. Not family viewing, I'm sure you'll agree.
My friend (and I use the term loosely) informed me of this video, and being the curious journalist I am I had to see it. I assumed it would be fake but after seeing it I really can't think how someone could have managed to fake something like that.
Which brings me to what I consider a couple of very important questions: What kind of sick people do things like this, film it, then post it on the internet? And secondly, what kind of sick people watch it? Me apparantly, would be the shameful answer to the second one.
Clearly, there are deep, mental issues involved here, and I won't spend time thinking about what kind of mental issues drive someone to do this. Like World Poverty and Hollyoaks, these things are best left ignored.
But as a decent(ish) citizen I feel I have to use the example to question what the internet is doing to society. Anyone who's familiar with these cult internet videos will probably have witnessed the following things:
Two women shitting into eachother's mouths.
A woman being shagged by a horse (she later died)
A woman being shagged by a dog.
Nice. Is this what entertainment is becoming? I remember the days when me and my friends used to crowd around in the playground in junior school and quote South Park, thinking it was the rudest, coolest thing in the world. South Park might as well be Songs of Praise after what I saw last night.
Reading the comments that were left on the video for Hatchet VS Penis, it seems a lot of people out there think that what those men did was very cool too. They even seemed to get a lot of respect for what they had... achieved?
Fair enough, they did something that not a lot of people could do - but does that mean it warrants respect? I know I don't have the balls to do it. But now, neither do they. And surely the hindrance that the lack of a penis entails can't be worth the twisted admiration of an internet audience? They didn't even get famous from it as their faces didn't even appear in the video, as the camera was busy getting close up to the gruesome details.
If this is the way that entertainment is going, I'm afraid I'm not going to be onboard.
They're just going to get more and more disgusting as people try to outdo eachother, and I don't want to see who manages to top Hatchet VS Penis.
Anyone who reads this may be curious to see the video, but I won't be providing a link, as I really wouldn't recommend it. It actually made me vomit. However, if you're anything like me, curiosity will get the better of you and you'll watch it regardless. And to those of you who do, all I can say is.. sorry.
Monday 17 March 2008
The Text Commandments
I often wonder if mobile phones will soon become a thing of the past. In the same way they replaced face to face conversation perhaps the internet will replace them. One day I imagine we will all just be cyborgs and interaction will become irrelevant, but until then I think a few guidelines on the equipment we have wouldn't go amiss.
So here are the rules on how to use your mobile communication device in a socially acceptable way:
1) Ringtones.
Many a journey has been ruined for me because of people with annoying ring tones. Thankfully, the days of the detestable Crazy Frog are behind us, but we're not out of the water just yet. Good songs as ringtones will only cause you to start to hate the song you once loved, and annoying songs as ringtones will cause you to die a little inside with each play. Both can be avoided by keeping it simple, and having the old beeping ones of the late nineties. Call me old fashioned, but I've got a feeling that soon they'll be old enough to be described as 'retro', then all who've taken my advice will be seen as trail blazers in the eyes of their out of touch friends who still have In Da Club as their ringtone.
2) Chain messages.
"Send this message to ten people and an angel will send you eternal happiness" or something as equally nauseating. Anyone dumb enough and bored enough to partake in such irritating behaviour shouldn't be allowed a phone, and should count themselves lucky that they somehow have ten friends in their phonebook when clearly they are far too mortifying for social consumption.
3) Gigglers.
We all have that friend who does that huge, fake laugh after recieveing text messages - that laugh that practically gets on the floor and begs you to ask them what the message was. This can only be combatted with a strict policy of never humouring these people. You must be strong, sit very still and remain quiet at all times as they roll around in hysterics. If it really was that funny, they'd tell you. Equally annoying is when these people aren't laughing, but instead are making even less subtle comments alluding to the desperation for you to ask.
"Oh my God, I really can't believe that."
Remain quiet.
"That is unbelieveable!"
Silence is golden.
" Seriously, I can not belieeeve what he's just sent me!"
"What did he send you?"
DAMN you've cracked and given the attention seeking buffoon what s/he wanted (usually 'she' - sorry girls) and now they'll proceed to tell you what the message was and it'll turn out to be mind numbingly boring and will make you kick yourself for not sticking to your guns. It's the only way they'll learn.
4) Rude bastards.
Some people, again - its mainly the girls, do not know how to behave in company, and think that once their phone has rung that the whole world around them just stopped to wait for them to finish. If you're out to lunch with someone, ignore your phone, unless its an emergency. You can speak to your Mum later. If you really can't obey this than at least answer and briefly explain that you'll speak later. Don't leave your friend sitting their like a doughnut for half an hour whilst you natter away, occassionally saying "I should go, I'm being anti-social" - which forces you to give a smile that says "No, its Ok, I'm fine sitting here pretending to read the menu for the 80th time", leading them then to think that they can continue for even longer! Your friends do mind that you do it, and whilst your on the phone rabitting on they're secretly fantasising about killing you. Just so you know.
5) Slow texters.
I won't insult this condition, as it's not rudeness, it's more of a retardation which shouldn't be mocked. However, if you do have this affliction - keep your texts to time slots when you are alone. The retardation tends to also come with the syndrome of not being able to do anything else whilst you are concentrating hard on your text. You could go up to someone with this syndrome mid text and set yourself on fire whilst doing the river dance and they probably wouldn't notice. So if you are friends with someone with the retardation, this means that during the half hour period they take to send a message, you may as well be on your own if you were meant to be spending time with them. I myself am able to text at a million word a second speed, as well as having the multi tasking abilities to hold a conversation, make dinner and cure cancer whilst doing it - and I do count myself lucky, but this doesn't mean slow, social texters should be tolerated.
6) TB
Not the fatal disease that makes you cough up blood, no, faar worse than that. Obviously this is the abbreviation for 'text back' - and it's not its useage that I particularily have a problem with (though it is a bit dated). It is instead a reference to certain people who constantly text and put TB in an effort to force you to reply, even though they've not asked a question or said anything worth replying to.
"I'm watching TV, might go to bed soon. TB luv"
What am I supposed to text back to that?! You are boring and not worth the finger energy, stop texting me!
Some people see phones as a way of giving the world a constant commentary of their lives. This means when you meet up with that person they have usually forgotten the three thousnad messages they sent you since your last meeting and then tell you every little detail again. It is an awful way to be, and will result in court orders and mass friendship losses.
This one may need a Part 2, as I have plenty more to say on the matter. I will have to stop now though as thinking about people who committ these offences is making my blood boil.
To be continued.
So here are the rules on how to use your mobile communication device in a socially acceptable way:
1) Ringtones.
Many a journey has been ruined for me because of people with annoying ring tones. Thankfully, the days of the detestable Crazy Frog are behind us, but we're not out of the water just yet. Good songs as ringtones will only cause you to start to hate the song you once loved, and annoying songs as ringtones will cause you to die a little inside with each play. Both can be avoided by keeping it simple, and having the old beeping ones of the late nineties. Call me old fashioned, but I've got a feeling that soon they'll be old enough to be described as 'retro', then all who've taken my advice will be seen as trail blazers in the eyes of their out of touch friends who still have In Da Club as their ringtone.
2) Chain messages.
"Send this message to ten people and an angel will send you eternal happiness" or something as equally nauseating. Anyone dumb enough and bored enough to partake in such irritating behaviour shouldn't be allowed a phone, and should count themselves lucky that they somehow have ten friends in their phonebook when clearly they are far too mortifying for social consumption.
3) Gigglers.
We all have that friend who does that huge, fake laugh after recieveing text messages - that laugh that practically gets on the floor and begs you to ask them what the message was. This can only be combatted with a strict policy of never humouring these people. You must be strong, sit very still and remain quiet at all times as they roll around in hysterics. If it really was that funny, they'd tell you. Equally annoying is when these people aren't laughing, but instead are making even less subtle comments alluding to the desperation for you to ask.
"Oh my God, I really can't believe that."
Remain quiet.
"That is unbelieveable!"
Silence is golden.
" Seriously, I can not belieeeve what he's just sent me!"
"What did he send you?"
DAMN you've cracked and given the attention seeking buffoon what s/he wanted (usually 'she' - sorry girls) and now they'll proceed to tell you what the message was and it'll turn out to be mind numbingly boring and will make you kick yourself for not sticking to your guns. It's the only way they'll learn.
4) Rude bastards.
Some people, again - its mainly the girls, do not know how to behave in company, and think that once their phone has rung that the whole world around them just stopped to wait for them to finish. If you're out to lunch with someone, ignore your phone, unless its an emergency. You can speak to your Mum later. If you really can't obey this than at least answer and briefly explain that you'll speak later. Don't leave your friend sitting their like a doughnut for half an hour whilst you natter away, occassionally saying "I should go, I'm being anti-social" - which forces you to give a smile that says "No, its Ok, I'm fine sitting here pretending to read the menu for the 80th time", leading them then to think that they can continue for even longer! Your friends do mind that you do it, and whilst your on the phone rabitting on they're secretly fantasising about killing you. Just so you know.
5) Slow texters.
I won't insult this condition, as it's not rudeness, it's more of a retardation which shouldn't be mocked. However, if you do have this affliction - keep your texts to time slots when you are alone. The retardation tends to also come with the syndrome of not being able to do anything else whilst you are concentrating hard on your text. You could go up to someone with this syndrome mid text and set yourself on fire whilst doing the river dance and they probably wouldn't notice. So if you are friends with someone with the retardation, this means that during the half hour period they take to send a message, you may as well be on your own if you were meant to be spending time with them. I myself am able to text at a million word a second speed, as well as having the multi tasking abilities to hold a conversation, make dinner and cure cancer whilst doing it - and I do count myself lucky, but this doesn't mean slow, social texters should be tolerated.
6) TB
Not the fatal disease that makes you cough up blood, no, faar worse than that. Obviously this is the abbreviation for 'text back' - and it's not its useage that I particularily have a problem with (though it is a bit dated). It is instead a reference to certain people who constantly text and put TB in an effort to force you to reply, even though they've not asked a question or said anything worth replying to.
"I'm watching TV, might go to bed soon. TB luv
What am I supposed to text back to that?! You are boring and not worth the finger energy, stop texting me!
Some people see phones as a way of giving the world a constant commentary of their lives. This means when you meet up with that person they have usually forgotten the three thousnad messages they sent you since your last meeting and then tell you every little detail again. It is an awful way to be, and will result in court orders and mass friendship losses.
This one may need a Part 2, as I have plenty more to say on the matter. I will have to stop now though as thinking about people who committ these offences is making my blood boil.
To be continued.
Thursday 13 March 2008
It's Britney's Music Bitch
Who doesn't have an opinion on Britney Spears at the moment? She's like the human version of 9/11 -and we're all watching the nightmare unfold. Articles about the star have been done to death and all follow a pretty similar structure, referring to her as "troubled Britney Spears" so frequently it wouldn't surprise me if her friends and family start calling her that too out of habit. They all discuss how hard it is to believe that the girl who burst on to the scene in that iconic school girl's outfit could now be the woman who is involved in police stand offs and psychiatric care. One thing has been lost in the whole affair though (beside Britney's marbles) and that is the music. The great pop songs that are defining the noughties, and have been the background to our lives for almost ten years are now hardly mentioned amongst the media frenzy of Spears' train wreck of a life.
'Baby... one more time' is one of the most, if not the most, important pop song of our generation, and since then the hits have come thick and fast. Right up until the present day, where 'Piece of Me' comes on in a club people go wild for it - people may be sick to death of hearing about her - but they aren't sick of listening to her just yet. In my opinion her most recent album 'Blackout' has been her best to date. How exactly she managed to record this album, packed full of sizzling RnB anthems, whilst she was busy having a full time breakdown is a mystery that will intrigue popologists until the dawn of time, but this doesn't mean we shouldn't aknowledge it.
The third cut off the album 'Break the ice' will be released next month, and the video (which you can check out on youtube) is all in japanese animation. And we all know why. In it, we see an animated version of the Britney we all wish was still with us, fighting some bad guys in order to prevent an inevitable explosion. Perhaps intended to symbolise her contstant struggle against the media and those around her who control her. Or maybe a cop out so that she doesn't have to hit the gym, wash her hair and toss out a dance routine for the video herself. People will no doubt scrutinize it, but amongst the critisisms and speculations they will forgot to judge the song, which I predict will be burning up dancefloors within weeks.
To me Britney is still as relevant to music as she is to the tabloids. Any artist who can take the phenomenal interest that the world has in her and put the pain and frustration that comes with it fearlessly into her songs is creating the soundtrack to a fame hungry society - and isn't holding anything back.
"I'm Mrs Most likely to get on the TV for slipping on the street when getting the groceries, for real - are you kidding me? No wonder there's panic in this industry I mean please... do you want a piece of me?"
You tell 'em Brit.
One day the events that trail Britney's tragic life will be a thing of the past, saved only for those shitty top 100 most shocking moments on channel 5. And whilst they fade in the public's memory, the songs won't. They'll be played again and again and again. Because good music never goes out off fashion.
So as we moan about how we're sick of hearing about her, how they shouldn't let her kids near her and blah blah blah - let's not forget the music, after all, that's the only reason we're interested in her in the first place.
'Baby... one more time' is one of the most, if not the most, important pop song of our generation, and since then the hits have come thick and fast. Right up until the present day, where 'Piece of Me' comes on in a club people go wild for it - people may be sick to death of hearing about her - but they aren't sick of listening to her just yet. In my opinion her most recent album 'Blackout' has been her best to date. How exactly she managed to record this album, packed full of sizzling RnB anthems, whilst she was busy having a full time breakdown is a mystery that will intrigue popologists until the dawn of time, but this doesn't mean we shouldn't aknowledge it.
The third cut off the album 'Break the ice' will be released next month, and the video (which you can check out on youtube) is all in japanese animation. And we all know why. In it, we see an animated version of the Britney we all wish was still with us, fighting some bad guys in order to prevent an inevitable explosion. Perhaps intended to symbolise her contstant struggle against the media and those around her who control her. Or maybe a cop out so that she doesn't have to hit the gym, wash her hair and toss out a dance routine for the video herself. People will no doubt scrutinize it, but amongst the critisisms and speculations they will forgot to judge the song, which I predict will be burning up dancefloors within weeks.
To me Britney is still as relevant to music as she is to the tabloids. Any artist who can take the phenomenal interest that the world has in her and put the pain and frustration that comes with it fearlessly into her songs is creating the soundtrack to a fame hungry society - and isn't holding anything back.
"I'm Mrs Most likely to get on the TV for slipping on the street when getting the groceries, for real - are you kidding me? No wonder there's panic in this industry I mean please... do you want a piece of me?"
You tell 'em Brit.
One day the events that trail Britney's tragic life will be a thing of the past, saved only for those shitty top 100 most shocking moments on channel 5. And whilst they fade in the public's memory, the songs won't. They'll be played again and again and again. Because good music never goes out off fashion.
So as we moan about how we're sick of hearing about her, how they shouldn't let her kids near her and blah blah blah - let's not forget the music, after all, that's the only reason we're interested in her in the first place.
Tuesday 11 March 2008
Social Suicide Part 2
Rule 1)
"Oh my God, last night was amazing! You should've been there, I was fucked, I drank-- (and here comes the social suicide) -- a bottle of wine, three double vodka and cokes, four shots of sambuka then on the way home had half a bottle of lambrini!!"
What exactly is it that these people are trying to prove? Are you trying to impress people? I don't find the list of things that you drank last night remotely impressive or interesting, in fact, I'm suspicious of how someone who claims to have drank so much and was "sooooo wasted" managed to recall every drink so vividly. I often think that if the night really was so amazing, then the things you'd be telling me about the next day would be funny drunken stories or mortifying recollections of the minger you pulled, not a step by step commentary through what you fucking drank.
Rule 2)
In my eyes, and in the eyes of all right thinking members of society, it is not acceptable for students to speak to lecturers unless the situation is completley unavoidable e.g. when asking a question that can not be found on the university website or when they speak to you first and there is no means of escape. Even then the conversation should never drift into personal territory where people ask (and I've seen it happen) "how was your weekend?" Cringe.
There are certain people who seem to make it their aim in life to befriend ageing teachers. They often laugh when the teacher makes a joke, which is mortifying not only because it makes them look like a geek, but also because it encourages the lecturer to continue attempting to inject "humour" into classes. They can only be identified by their ankles as the rest of their body is normally so far up their tutor's arse that they can no longer be seen.
Often they will have started a facebook group of appreciation to one of their 'favourite lecturers'. Joining such a group makes you part of the issue. These people need to be left alone, you can't help them until they realise that they have a problem.
Rule 3)
Technically, I am a man. However, being a gay man I tend to stereotypically identify more with a woman's mind than a mans'. I like Sex and the City and I don't like Top Gear. I enjoy the workings of Britney Spears and Madonna whereas the Red Hot Chilli Peppers bore me senseless. These kinds of differences are fine, variety is the spice of life. However, there is one example of men's behaviour that simply baffles me and makes me slightly ashamed to be a (kind of) man.
This behaviour is that on a night out, men find it highly hilarious to expose either their penises or their arses in public. Make no mistake, this is social suicide. Now, I'm no prude, there is a time and a place for a comedy flash or streak. Any sporting event, a library or even an exam if you're feeling particularily daring. All amusing, done with the right amount of style.
But eight times a night having to smile politley at the same fool who still thinks its funny to get his cock out in a bar can become tiring, particularily when the men that do this are never very attractive and the penises are never anything to write home about. If you have an especially impressively sized wang then by all means, show the world - it might get you a pull (or a criminal record) but please, if you are cursed with a cocktail sausage and you've had a few too many - try your best to keep it in. It just means that your personality is so bad you've had to resort to genitals to be interesting. Never something to be proud of.
Rule 4)
I touched upon the fact that I'm gay earlier, something which I'm proud to admit as gays have done a lot for the world. We made the theatre what it is, set the bar for good fashion and without us Princess Diana's funeral would've been quite the snoozefest (cheers Elton). This is why it annoys me when people are gay and can not admit it. I understand that it is difficult, I myself went through a phase of, ooh... I'd say about 5 minutes of denial before I realised it was too much like hard work. If you truly can't bring yourself to come out as the raging homo you are, then kindly cover it up well by firstly, not being camp, and secondly, not having sex with men.
It sounds ridiculous but many a time I've been in the company of a straight man who insists that he's not 'a fag' before he comes over to the dark side.
They usually follow a standard routine. It starts off with them saying, "You know, if you were a girl I definatley would."
Then they usually instigate some variety of play fight, very homo erotic. This allows them to have the man on man contact they so secretly crave under the guise of manly wrestling.
Before you know it, someone's getting rimmed (sorry to readers who find this offensive but shit happens).
You can spot a closet gay a mile off. They won't make eye contact with out gay men and usually pretend to have a problem with it, they constantly point out which women they would do but never seem to gte round to actually doing any of them. They lost their virginity on holiday when they were 16 to a really pretty girl but there were no witnesses to this.
Keep an eye out. And then send them my number (kidding!)
Rule 5)
It is social suicide to create a blog then write regular posts telling people how they should behave. Who the fuck do people like this think they--- oops...
"Oh my God, last night was amazing! You should've been there, I was fucked, I drank-- (and here comes the social suicide) -- a bottle of wine, three double vodka and cokes, four shots of sambuka then on the way home had half a bottle of lambrini!!"
What exactly is it that these people are trying to prove? Are you trying to impress people? I don't find the list of things that you drank last night remotely impressive or interesting, in fact, I'm suspicious of how someone who claims to have drank so much and was "sooooo wasted" managed to recall every drink so vividly. I often think that if the night really was so amazing, then the things you'd be telling me about the next day would be funny drunken stories or mortifying recollections of the minger you pulled, not a step by step commentary through what you fucking drank.
Rule 2)
In my eyes, and in the eyes of all right thinking members of society, it is not acceptable for students to speak to lecturers unless the situation is completley unavoidable e.g. when asking a question that can not be found on the university website or when they speak to you first and there is no means of escape. Even then the conversation should never drift into personal territory where people ask (and I've seen it happen) "how was your weekend?" Cringe.
There are certain people who seem to make it their aim in life to befriend ageing teachers. They often laugh when the teacher makes a joke, which is mortifying not only because it makes them look like a geek, but also because it encourages the lecturer to continue attempting to inject "humour" into classes. They can only be identified by their ankles as the rest of their body is normally so far up their tutor's arse that they can no longer be seen.
Often they will have started a facebook group of appreciation to one of their 'favourite lecturers'. Joining such a group makes you part of the issue. These people need to be left alone, you can't help them until they realise that they have a problem.
Rule 3)
Technically, I am a man. However, being a gay man I tend to stereotypically identify more with a woman's mind than a mans'. I like Sex and the City and I don't like Top Gear. I enjoy the workings of Britney Spears and Madonna whereas the Red Hot Chilli Peppers bore me senseless. These kinds of differences are fine, variety is the spice of life. However, there is one example of men's behaviour that simply baffles me and makes me slightly ashamed to be a (kind of) man.
This behaviour is that on a night out, men find it highly hilarious to expose either their penises or their arses in public. Make no mistake, this is social suicide. Now, I'm no prude, there is a time and a place for a comedy flash or streak. Any sporting event, a library or even an exam if you're feeling particularily daring. All amusing, done with the right amount of style.
But eight times a night having to smile politley at the same fool who still thinks its funny to get his cock out in a bar can become tiring, particularily when the men that do this are never very attractive and the penises are never anything to write home about. If you have an especially impressively sized wang then by all means, show the world - it might get you a pull (or a criminal record) but please, if you are cursed with a cocktail sausage and you've had a few too many - try your best to keep it in. It just means that your personality is so bad you've had to resort to genitals to be interesting. Never something to be proud of.
Rule 4)
I touched upon the fact that I'm gay earlier, something which I'm proud to admit as gays have done a lot for the world. We made the theatre what it is, set the bar for good fashion and without us Princess Diana's funeral would've been quite the snoozefest (cheers Elton). This is why it annoys me when people are gay and can not admit it. I understand that it is difficult, I myself went through a phase of, ooh... I'd say about 5 minutes of denial before I realised it was too much like hard work. If you truly can't bring yourself to come out as the raging homo you are, then kindly cover it up well by firstly, not being camp, and secondly, not having sex with men.
It sounds ridiculous but many a time I've been in the company of a straight man who insists that he's not 'a fag' before he comes over to the dark side.
They usually follow a standard routine. It starts off with them saying, "You know, if you were a girl I definatley would."
Then they usually instigate some variety of play fight, very homo erotic. This allows them to have the man on man contact they so secretly crave under the guise of manly wrestling.
Before you know it, someone's getting rimmed (sorry to readers who find this offensive but shit happens).
You can spot a closet gay a mile off. They won't make eye contact with out gay men and usually pretend to have a problem with it, they constantly point out which women they would do but never seem to gte round to actually doing any of them. They lost their virginity on holiday when they were 16 to a really pretty girl but there were no witnesses to this.
Keep an eye out. And then send them my number (kidding!)
Rule 5)
It is social suicide to create a blog then write regular posts telling people how they should behave. Who the fuck do people like this think they--- oops...
Monday 10 March 2008
Long live the Queen (of Pop)
I distinctly remember being about 5 years old, in the conservatory in my childhood home. The sun was blaring through the windows and my Mum was ironing as I sat on the couch near her. 'Like a prayer' by Madonna was on the radio, and I was fascinated. I started asking my Mum questions about the woman behind the song. She didn't realise it would be the beginning of an obsession that is still with me today. Ever since being entranced by the seductive blend of ecstatic gospel and sensual catchy pop I have wanted to know more about her. The woman who has been called the queen of pop, a whore, an icon, the worst actress in the world, a sex goddess, the 'material girl', Madge (both of which she hates), Mrs Penn and Mrs Ritchie. Love her or hate her, you can not fail to know who she is.
This summer, Madonna will turn 50, but is not about to get out the cardigans and boiled sweets just yet. Not if her new album, due out on April 28th is anything to go by. There has been a lot of coverage in the press about the fact Madonna is working with Timbaland, Justin, Pharrell and Kanye West on her new album - to be called Hard Candy. Madonna goes Urban? Little do most of the writers realise that back in the early 80s when Madonna's first demos were getting played on new York's club scene - everyone thought Madonna was a black artist. Tracks like 'Borderline' could just have easily come from a Motown artist than from the woman who was to release 'Like a Virgin' only years later when she became a mega star. Madonna was making RnB music when Timbaland was still in nappies. Yet people are surprised by the fact she wants her new album to have to hottest producers around giving her the slickest beats. Whenever there is wind of a new Madonna project, the critics usually start sharpening the knives hoping this will be the album they can sink them into.
She's going electro?! It'll never work.
Madonna takes on Catholisism? She'll be crucified!
A leotard on a 47 year old... She's mad!
Yet every time she proves them wrong, and I have no doubt that with Hard Candy she will prove that she is capable of working with the likes of Timbaland and Justin without sounding like a granny at a rap battle.
I've heard a cheeky exclusive of the first cut off the album '4 minutes' - a relentlessly pounding duet with Mr Timberlake that has them saving the world to exactly 4 minutes of Timbalands' trademark beats and the unmistakeable tones of the Queen herself. It will race to number one in April, and if it doesn't then I will run naked around Sheffield City Centre (which means that anyone in Sheffield who reads this blog will no doubt be panic buying now when it hits shops).
I spend about 40% of my life defending Madonna against a generation that doesn't understand the influence she's had on music, on pop culture, on race relations and on feminism.
This is why I can't wait for Hard Candy to drive its way into the ipods and playlists of the youth of today, so I can stop hearing everyone talk about how crap Madonna is and start to realise how amazing it is that a woman has captivated the world for a quarter of a century. Failing that, it looks like I'm going to have to get my streaking boots on. Let's hope it's a warm April...
This summer, Madonna will turn 50, but is not about to get out the cardigans and boiled sweets just yet. Not if her new album, due out on April 28th is anything to go by. There has been a lot of coverage in the press about the fact Madonna is working with Timbaland, Justin, Pharrell and Kanye West on her new album - to be called Hard Candy. Madonna goes Urban? Little do most of the writers realise that back in the early 80s when Madonna's first demos were getting played on new York's club scene - everyone thought Madonna was a black artist. Tracks like 'Borderline' could just have easily come from a Motown artist than from the woman who was to release 'Like a Virgin' only years later when she became a mega star. Madonna was making RnB music when Timbaland was still in nappies. Yet people are surprised by the fact she wants her new album to have to hottest producers around giving her the slickest beats. Whenever there is wind of a new Madonna project, the critics usually start sharpening the knives hoping this will be the album they can sink them into.
She's going electro?! It'll never work.
Madonna takes on Catholisism? She'll be crucified!
A leotard on a 47 year old... She's mad!
Yet every time she proves them wrong, and I have no doubt that with Hard Candy she will prove that she is capable of working with the likes of Timbaland and Justin without sounding like a granny at a rap battle.
I've heard a cheeky exclusive of the first cut off the album '4 minutes' - a relentlessly pounding duet with Mr Timberlake that has them saving the world to exactly 4 minutes of Timbalands' trademark beats and the unmistakeable tones of the Queen herself. It will race to number one in April, and if it doesn't then I will run naked around Sheffield City Centre (which means that anyone in Sheffield who reads this blog will no doubt be panic buying now when it hits shops).
I spend about 40% of my life defending Madonna against a generation that doesn't understand the influence she's had on music, on pop culture, on race relations and on feminism.
This is why I can't wait for Hard Candy to drive its way into the ipods and playlists of the youth of today, so I can stop hearing everyone talk about how crap Madonna is and start to realise how amazing it is that a woman has captivated the world for a quarter of a century. Failing that, it looks like I'm going to have to get my streaking boots on. Let's hope it's a warm April...
Thursday 6 March 2008
Sorry, we have to ask everyone...
After a year long stint working in Yates (the classy Pub chain for the social elite..) I was pretty sure that I would never want to work in a bar again. There's the abuse you get from customers, the mopping up of vomit on a weekly basis (hey, I did say classy) and the fact that you're spending all night with alcohol and you're not allowed to drink any. It's like being a diabetic locked in a chocolate factory. You watch the buffoons staggering around loudly making points that never lead anywhere and having long winded debates with the quiz boxes, then you think, I'm not like that when I'm out, am I? Then you realise that you're not, and you are in fact quite a lot worse.
This week has seen the final nail in the coffin for any remote chance there was of me considering a bar job again. The already strict rules concerning serving underage customers are apparantly about to get even tighter. The government is working on a policy that would mean a three strikes and you're out approach to serving people under the age of 18, that could end up with any offending bar being closed down. Which I imagine would have a knock on effect on the fines imposed (which are already outrageous) for any bartender who makes the mistake. I believe it's something in the region of fifty pounds at the moment, an amount that would take someone working in a place such as Yates (a company which is a big fan of the minimum wage) approximatley 6 months to pay off. Just going by my earnings on that estimation.
My problem was, and is, that I find it impossible to ID underage drinkers. Not just because my maths is poor and by the time I've worked out how old they are from looking at their date of birth the bar has usually closed for the night. But because all it takes is one look at those young eyes so full of hope practically begging you to allow them the gift of getting hammered and I'm transported back to the summer of 2005. Back to a time when Take That were still just a 90s memory that no one ever thought they would see again and no one had heard of Amy Winehouse. A time where a 17 year old boy named Edward used to stand on tiptoes in the local Lloyds, making his voice deeper and praying that if he smiled at the bar staff enough, maybe, just maybe they'd not question his age.
Everyone had the friend who caused the group to get thrown out of almost every bar for the crime of looking youthful and not being blessed in the height department. In my group, that friend was me. Of course you're friends always say the same thing "Never mind, we didn't want to drink in there anyway" but you know inside they're thinking 'For God's sake, will you just bugger off home, we're trying to get pissed and you're baby face really isn't helping!'
How can I be expected to be the guy that I hated when I was 17? The guy who says "Sorry, we have to ask everyone", or "We only accept passport or license, I'm afraid that hand written note signed by your Mum isn't going to help".
I just can't, which means my days of pulling pints are definatley behind me for as long as the government are still employing the 'mystery customer' approach to underage drinking (which I think is entrapment but that's a whole other post in itself). The smoking age is going up to 18 and I hear they're thinking of doing the same with driving? We're turning into a country where teenagers are persistently told that they no longer have the right to do the things they've been looking forward to doing since they were youths e.g. binge drinking, smoking until you're throat is hoarse and driving wherever the mood takes you (not all in the same night obviously, unless you really want to live outside the law).
These limitations can only give rise to anger, resentment and rebellion, and with that ahead I reckon we're all going to need a stiff drink.
This week has seen the final nail in the coffin for any remote chance there was of me considering a bar job again. The already strict rules concerning serving underage customers are apparantly about to get even tighter. The government is working on a policy that would mean a three strikes and you're out approach to serving people under the age of 18, that could end up with any offending bar being closed down. Which I imagine would have a knock on effect on the fines imposed (which are already outrageous) for any bartender who makes the mistake. I believe it's something in the region of fifty pounds at the moment, an amount that would take someone working in a place such as Yates (a company which is a big fan of the minimum wage) approximatley 6 months to pay off. Just going by my earnings on that estimation.
My problem was, and is, that I find it impossible to ID underage drinkers. Not just because my maths is poor and by the time I've worked out how old they are from looking at their date of birth the bar has usually closed for the night. But because all it takes is one look at those young eyes so full of hope practically begging you to allow them the gift of getting hammered and I'm transported back to the summer of 2005. Back to a time when Take That were still just a 90s memory that no one ever thought they would see again and no one had heard of Amy Winehouse. A time where a 17 year old boy named Edward used to stand on tiptoes in the local Lloyds, making his voice deeper and praying that if he smiled at the bar staff enough, maybe, just maybe they'd not question his age.
Everyone had the friend who caused the group to get thrown out of almost every bar for the crime of looking youthful and not being blessed in the height department. In my group, that friend was me. Of course you're friends always say the same thing "Never mind, we didn't want to drink in there anyway" but you know inside they're thinking 'For God's sake, will you just bugger off home, we're trying to get pissed and you're baby face really isn't helping!'
How can I be expected to be the guy that I hated when I was 17? The guy who says "Sorry, we have to ask everyone", or "We only accept passport or license, I'm afraid that hand written note signed by your Mum isn't going to help".
I just can't, which means my days of pulling pints are definatley behind me for as long as the government are still employing the 'mystery customer' approach to underage drinking (which I think is entrapment but that's a whole other post in itself). The smoking age is going up to 18 and I hear they're thinking of doing the same with driving? We're turning into a country where teenagers are persistently told that they no longer have the right to do the things they've been looking forward to doing since they were youths e.g. binge drinking, smoking until you're throat is hoarse and driving wherever the mood takes you (not all in the same night obviously, unless you really want to live outside the law).
These limitations can only give rise to anger, resentment and rebellion, and with that ahead I reckon we're all going to need a stiff drink.
Tuesday 26 February 2008
Social suicide Part 1
The facebook etiquette rules seem to have gone down quite controversially, sorry to all you LOL lovers and application addicts, no harm intended. Looking at the positive though, I have seen a vast improvement in the calibre of peoples' statuses since it went up and people have stopped sending me such a large number of applications. I've decided to attribute all credit directly towards my blog. Which got me to thinking, if my wordly wisdom could help people improve their facebook behaviour, imagine what it could do for people in real life!
So here's my compilation of rules for students who don't want to commit social suicide in every day life. I know most of the things to avoid as at some point on my twenty years on this earth I've committed most of them myself. Read without prejudice.
Rule one:
Double denim. Unless you are in a B*witched tribute band (in which case, social suicide is clearly no longer an issue with you) double denim is the social eqivalent of throwing yourself on top of helicopter propellers. This happens more than you'd think. The double denim that is, not the helicopter suicide, that hardly ever happens.
If you are the unfortunate owner of a denim jacket, make sure you either avoid jeans when throwing your outfit together or make sure you don't leave the house.
This is not, I repeat not one of the rules which I have flouted in the past. I have some respect.
Rule Two:
A common one. As a student you will most likely have an overdraft. If you do, and your balance is at £2.43 - you are not skint. You have hundreds of pounds in your overdraft. People who don't consider an overdraft money have a very special name. And that name is 'twat'.
The word 'skint' is reserved for those of us who are at the very bottom of our overdraft, and whose balance hasn't been positive since the days when Britney was still claiming to be a virgin.
Rule Three:
If you do drugs, or have tried drugs, don't think you are cool for doing it. We've all had our dabbles but it doesn't make you Amy Winehouse or Pete Doherty. There is a certain type of person who does think they are cool for doing drugs. They usually refer to themselves as being into 'indie' music and attend Fuzz club. They get excited when they know of other people who've done drugs and then want to discuss it in great length. Cooler drug users I know are the ones who don't think its cool, they just enjoy it. They usually appreciate good cheesy music and go to Plug on a Thursday.
Rule Four:
Nobody will agree with me on this one so it shouldn't really be included, as technically its me who's committing social suicide by refusing to conform. But in my mind, watching Hollyoaks makes you an immature moron, and anyone who does so should cease immediatley. If you're going to cast actors purely based on looks and not talent, surely you can find people better looking than that lot? With acting more wooden than Pinocchio's erection and plots so implausible even Cheryl Cole wouldn't believe them (and this is the woman who believe's her husband when he says he won't cheat again), it is hands down, the worst thing on TV.
Rule Five:
I touched on this in the facebook rules but it applies to every day life too. Nobody cares how many essays you've got in. Nobody cares how many words you've done. Nobody cares how much you think you're going to fail the year. Stop talking about it, or essays will be your second biggest problem, your first will be having no friends.
This is merely part one of the rules, as there are too many for me to possibly cover in one night. If you are a regular breaker of any of them, it's quite important that you make a valiant effort to change the habit whilst there's still time. You don't want social suicide ruining the best years of your life.
God may forgive you, but I won't.
So here's my compilation of rules for students who don't want to commit social suicide in every day life. I know most of the things to avoid as at some point on my twenty years on this earth I've committed most of them myself. Read without prejudice.
Rule one:
Double denim. Unless you are in a B*witched tribute band (in which case, social suicide is clearly no longer an issue with you) double denim is the social eqivalent of throwing yourself on top of helicopter propellers. This happens more than you'd think. The double denim that is, not the helicopter suicide, that hardly ever happens.
If you are the unfortunate owner of a denim jacket, make sure you either avoid jeans when throwing your outfit together or make sure you don't leave the house.
This is not, I repeat not one of the rules which I have flouted in the past. I have some respect.
Rule Two:
A common one. As a student you will most likely have an overdraft. If you do, and your balance is at £2.43 - you are not skint. You have hundreds of pounds in your overdraft. People who don't consider an overdraft money have a very special name. And that name is 'twat'.
The word 'skint' is reserved for those of us who are at the very bottom of our overdraft, and whose balance hasn't been positive since the days when Britney was still claiming to be a virgin.
Rule Three:
If you do drugs, or have tried drugs, don't think you are cool for doing it. We've all had our dabbles but it doesn't make you Amy Winehouse or Pete Doherty. There is a certain type of person who does think they are cool for doing drugs. They usually refer to themselves as being into 'indie' music and attend Fuzz club. They get excited when they know of other people who've done drugs and then want to discuss it in great length. Cooler drug users I know are the ones who don't think its cool, they just enjoy it. They usually appreciate good cheesy music and go to Plug on a Thursday.
Rule Four:
Nobody will agree with me on this one so it shouldn't really be included, as technically its me who's committing social suicide by refusing to conform. But in my mind, watching Hollyoaks makes you an immature moron, and anyone who does so should cease immediatley. If you're going to cast actors purely based on looks and not talent, surely you can find people better looking than that lot? With acting more wooden than Pinocchio's erection and plots so implausible even Cheryl Cole wouldn't believe them (and this is the woman who believe's her husband when he says he won't cheat again), it is hands down, the worst thing on TV.
Rule Five:
I touched on this in the facebook rules but it applies to every day life too. Nobody cares how many essays you've got in. Nobody cares how many words you've done. Nobody cares how much you think you're going to fail the year. Stop talking about it, or essays will be your second biggest problem, your first will be having no friends.
This is merely part one of the rules, as there are too many for me to possibly cover in one night. If you are a regular breaker of any of them, it's quite important that you make a valiant effort to change the habit whilst there's still time. You don't want social suicide ruining the best years of your life.
God may forgive you, but I won't.
Monday 25 February 2008
Football virgin
Well, I was going to do an article on the Oscars but no ammount of Pro Plus or fake enthusiam could force me to stay awake long enough to pretend I still cared about who won and who didn't. So, alternatively I'm going to change tone dramatically and write about.. football!
Now I won't pretend to be a big footy fan. The offside rule makes as much sense to me as the mystery of why Kerry Katona's still famous and to me Ashely Cole is merely someone who cheats on Cheryl Tweedy, nothing more.
However, tempted by the promise of a free pitcher of beer I agreed to watch the Carling Cup final with a few other non footy fans as my friend Annabelle is a Tottenham Hotspurs supporter (yes, that's right, apparantly girls can like football without being lesbians - who knew?) and wanted us to join her in cheering on the... em... whites? Gunners? Well, cheer them on anyway.
I started off watching the game with my usual approach, staring at the time and working out how long was left.
However, as the match proceeded I actually found myself getting into it. The Tottenham penalty given for a hand ball offence, the Chelsea free kick that saw the pub I was in consumed with the kind of deafening silence usually reserved for Lenny Henry comedy shows, and then the extra time that where the Spurs scored their victory goal and the pub erupted into celebrations. I was jumping around excitedly, not really sure why but enjoying the fun of getting caught up in the moment.
For the first time ever I kind of saw the appeal of football. Until then I had it in my list of things that the world would be better without, also including Richard Maedly, BT phone operators, Hollyoaks and the Black Eyed Peas. Now I'm not saying I'm going to be joining a sunday side any time soon, or rioting with some chav in the street about who's a bigger wanker - a Man Utd fan or Hitler. But I think I can safely say that I am now partial to the odd final, so long as there's a nice pitcher of beer there to help me through.
Beats the fucking Oscars anyway.
Now I won't pretend to be a big footy fan. The offside rule makes as much sense to me as the mystery of why Kerry Katona's still famous and to me Ashely Cole is merely someone who cheats on Cheryl Tweedy, nothing more.
However, tempted by the promise of a free pitcher of beer I agreed to watch the Carling Cup final with a few other non footy fans as my friend Annabelle is a Tottenham Hotspurs supporter (yes, that's right, apparantly girls can like football without being lesbians - who knew?) and wanted us to join her in cheering on the... em... whites? Gunners? Well, cheer them on anyway.
I started off watching the game with my usual approach, staring at the time and working out how long was left.
However, as the match proceeded I actually found myself getting into it. The Tottenham penalty given for a hand ball offence, the Chelsea free kick that saw the pub I was in consumed with the kind of deafening silence usually reserved for Lenny Henry comedy shows, and then the extra time that where the Spurs scored their victory goal and the pub erupted into celebrations. I was jumping around excitedly, not really sure why but enjoying the fun of getting caught up in the moment.
For the first time ever I kind of saw the appeal of football. Until then I had it in my list of things that the world would be better without, also including Richard Maedly, BT phone operators, Hollyoaks and the Black Eyed Peas. Now I'm not saying I'm going to be joining a sunday side any time soon, or rioting with some chav in the street about who's a bigger wanker - a Man Utd fan or Hitler. But I think I can safely say that I am now partial to the odd final, so long as there's a nice pitcher of beer there to help me through.
Beats the fucking Oscars anyway.
Wednesday 20 February 2008
Facebook for dummies
My friends and I are thinking of writing a book about the ins and outs of facebook, discussing how it has such a strong hold over student life and providing a guide as to how to use it effectively without committing social suicide. However, we are on facebook far too much to find the time to write this book, so a blog entry will just have to do.
Firstly, I must start with the aspect of facebook which people seem to find the most difficult; statuses. Unfortunatley, this is also the aspect where social suicide is most easily committed.
Here are a few of the rules we decided upon:
1) LOL, LMAO and OMG have no place on a status. In fact, apart from in the 90s, they have no place anywhere.
2) An easy mistake to make is to think that people give a shit how much you drank last night. The following are the most common offences: "Joe Bloggs... shouldn't drink again.... can't believe how much he drank last night.... is sooo hungover.... is thinking that last apple sourz was a bad idea - LOL (see rule 1)..... was fucked but loved it!"
All unacceptable.
3) During revison period, a big no no is persistantly reminding the world and his dog (assuming his dog has a facebook account, lets face it, who doesn't?) about how much revision you have been, or should be, doing. Informing people you've done loads makes them feel bad that they haven't. Informing people you've done none makes you look like your trying to appear cool when the likelihood is that you haven't had your nose out of those revision notes all weekend. Either way you're screwed so its best to avoid the area completley.
4) Venting anger, sadness or any negative emotion via your status can be very dangerous territory. I'll admit, I've fallen foul of this one myself a few times. However, if your feeling furious or blue, its best to log out and step away from the computer. Staying could result in the following horrors: "Joe Bloggs .... is wishing it would all go away.... is close to the end.... thought he knew who his friends were.... is lonley". Girls, you too - "Josephine Bloggs..... hates men..... is feeling depressed.... needs a hug".
The exceptions to this rule are if you are a) suffering from genuine depression or b) you're an EMO. Spot the difference?
Avoid these pot holes and you should be OK. Read on for tips on a good status:
1) Music lyrics can always make for an interesting status. Particularily if its a fairly obscure song thats personal to you but will provoke intrigue and wonder from others. Rifle through your ipod, there'll be many a status gem awaiting! This doesn't apply if you happen to have a lot of songs containing words such as 'LOL' 'OMG' and 'LMFAO'. Once again, see Rule 1 of bad statuses.
2) Anything making light of big stories in the news and current events is a good way of showing that you're tuned in and that you are side splittingly hilarious. At the moment, jokes about Jeremy Beadle's death or Ashley Cole's infidelity would be good, so long as they don't border on offensive (which they nearly always do).
3) If you have no imagination or natural status creating ability, don't be afraid to go without one, its better people think your mysterious than mortifying.
Now, enough of statuses, onto applications. This can be social suicide when you go onto someone's profile to post something, or for a casual facebook stalk, only to find you have to waste about half an hour scrolling down miles upon miles of mortifying applications. You are sending out a very clear message by doing this: either you have no friends, or you have a broken leg and are confined to your bedroom. Go easy on them. You have years ahead of you to add applications, don't scar your profile with so much shite, you're still young!
And while we're at it, don't be someone who sends a million application requests a day that innocent people like me have to waste time going through and rejecting. No, I don't want to be a fucking vampire, or play facebook poker or scrabble or anything!! You may as well be sending out the 'I have no life' application.
Lastly, but I feel, most importantly - don't poke. It means you have nothing interesting to say. Its only appropriate from strangers who are letting you know that they either want to sleep with you, or they want you to add their 'will you sleep with me?' application. Not sure which is worse but avoid both.
And remember, facebook stalking is like pooing. Everybody does it. But no one talks about it.
Facebook wisely friends, facebook wisely.
Firstly, I must start with the aspect of facebook which people seem to find the most difficult; statuses. Unfortunatley, this is also the aspect where social suicide is most easily committed.
Here are a few of the rules we decided upon:
1) LOL, LMAO and OMG have no place on a status. In fact, apart from in the 90s, they have no place anywhere.
2) An easy mistake to make is to think that people give a shit how much you drank last night. The following are the most common offences: "Joe Bloggs... shouldn't drink again.... can't believe how much he drank last night.... is sooo hungover.... is thinking that last apple sourz was a bad idea - LOL (see rule 1)..... was fucked but loved it!"
All unacceptable.
3) During revison period, a big no no is persistantly reminding the world and his dog (assuming his dog has a facebook account, lets face it, who doesn't?) about how much revision you have been, or should be, doing. Informing people you've done loads makes them feel bad that they haven't. Informing people you've done none makes you look like your trying to appear cool when the likelihood is that you haven't had your nose out of those revision notes all weekend. Either way you're screwed so its best to avoid the area completley.
4) Venting anger, sadness or any negative emotion via your status can be very dangerous territory. I'll admit, I've fallen foul of this one myself a few times. However, if your feeling furious or blue, its best to log out and step away from the computer. Staying could result in the following horrors: "Joe Bloggs .... is wishing it would all go away.... is close to the end.... thought he knew who his friends were.... is lonley". Girls, you too - "Josephine Bloggs..... hates men..... is feeling depressed.... needs a hug".
The exceptions to this rule are if you are a) suffering from genuine depression or b) you're an EMO. Spot the difference?
Avoid these pot holes and you should be OK. Read on for tips on a good status:
1) Music lyrics can always make for an interesting status. Particularily if its a fairly obscure song thats personal to you but will provoke intrigue and wonder from others. Rifle through your ipod, there'll be many a status gem awaiting! This doesn't apply if you happen to have a lot of songs containing words such as 'LOL' 'OMG' and 'LMFAO'. Once again, see Rule 1 of bad statuses.
2) Anything making light of big stories in the news and current events is a good way of showing that you're tuned in and that you are side splittingly hilarious. At the moment, jokes about Jeremy Beadle's death or Ashley Cole's infidelity would be good, so long as they don't border on offensive (which they nearly always do).
3) If you have no imagination or natural status creating ability, don't be afraid to go without one, its better people think your mysterious than mortifying.
Now, enough of statuses, onto applications. This can be social suicide when you go onto someone's profile to post something, or for a casual facebook stalk, only to find you have to waste about half an hour scrolling down miles upon miles of mortifying applications. You are sending out a very clear message by doing this: either you have no friends, or you have a broken leg and are confined to your bedroom. Go easy on them. You have years ahead of you to add applications, don't scar your profile with so much shite, you're still young!
And while we're at it, don't be someone who sends a million application requests a day that innocent people like me have to waste time going through and rejecting. No, I don't want to be a fucking vampire, or play facebook poker or scrabble or anything!! You may as well be sending out the 'I have no life' application.
Lastly, but I feel, most importantly - don't poke. It means you have nothing interesting to say. Its only appropriate from strangers who are letting you know that they either want to sleep with you, or they want you to add their 'will you sleep with me?' application. Not sure which is worse but avoid both.
And remember, facebook stalking is like pooing. Everybody does it. But no one talks about it.
Facebook wisely friends, facebook wisely.
The Brits.
I often find it's not until award season rolls around that you realise what a shit year its been. The Brits tonight confirmed for me that 2007 was pretty poor, particularily for true lovers of pop like me.
However, there were many valuable lessons to be learnt from the Brits in spite of this.
Firstly, that Vic Reeves stopped being funny in the 90s and shouldn't be allowed on TV, apart from on UK Gold for occassional repeats of Shooting Stars.
Secondly, as new starlet Adele undeniably proved, black isn't always slimming. And neither is standing in between Fearn Cotten and Mika. Just a tip.
One highlight though was the sensational return of Amy Winehouse and her sobriety. My friend Katie was sure that Amy's performance looked like that of a woman who was still using, due to her jittery movements and the fact she was shakey on her legs. I though, ever the first to hope for the best in folk, put it down to her trying to stand on those big ol' heels whilst also balancing that beast of a beehive.
Even a big Winehouse fan like me though can find it hard to forgive the fact she played her part in inflicting Mark Ronson on our radios. A man who's accent is almost as baffling as the fact that people actually buy "his" records. I'm very tempted to make an attempt for recognition myself following his steps:
Get a cheap recording system, invite the first woman with any sign of talent to warble a song by some dull band from whichever record is currently being called 'the best album since Definatley Maybe', add horns, and see if its me standing on the stage next year accepting 'my' Brit. Watch this space.
Another few frustrations:
Why are Take That winning awards and getting nominations for a song and an album that were released before last years Brits? Was 2007 that rubbish that we've had to recycle boy band excrement from the year before? And when Take That are 50 year old wrinklies shuffling about on stage to 'Relight my fire' will unimaginative ITV1 presenters still be calling them the 'comeback kings'? Yes they're back, get over it. My ears have had to. Leona should have got best single over them. Her performance of 'Bleeding Love' was sensational. Bet last years X factor winner was sitting at home watching and crapping himself. His name was Leon by the way, for those who've already forgotten.
More outrageous still was the absence of Britney in tonights nominations. I grudgingly accept as a hardcore Britney fan that there are some places Britney shouldn't be. Within 100ft of a nursery for example. However the Brits should have aknowledged the fact that in spite of sex, drugs and Kevin Federline she still managed to make the best pop album of 2007 by far.
Yet the ceremony has its head so far up Kylie's pert little arse it was almost poking out of her botox filled face. I didn't realise they gave out Brits for beating breast cancer. Yes, we all love Kylie, but awards should be reserved for people making good music, not people who just spend all day copying Madonna and reassuring their little sister that she'll "make it one day". Give it up Danni, shagging Simon Cowell isn't a music career.
I'll try and look at positives for our most prestigious music ceremony though. I liked the choice of hosts, the Osbournes are always fun. For once though, Ozzy was the most coherent, as Sharon and Kelly seemed to get on as well with the autocue as Beth Ditto gets on with the Atkins Diet. Loved Sharon proudly claiming that Bingo adds paid for her dress. God knows what paid for her cosmetic surgery. A big lottery win? I can only assume.
Am glad Kate Nash won something as well. I'd say 'Foundations' was the British track of the year and the album's amazing. Hope none of the other nominees in the best Female category were too bit-tah about the fact that The Brits at least decided one worthy winner would be quite appropriate.
Ok, being positive didn't last, how boring are the Kaiser Chiefs? Recreating the video for 'Ruby' just reminds us of what a pointless act they are. Would rather that slot had been filled with a few more of Vic Reeve's 'jokes', at least it would have given the tumbleweed something to do.
The Foo Fighters albums are also getting steadily worse so God knows why praise for them continues to grow. Recognition from The Brits is slightly like the hosts with their lines, trying to keep up but always that bit behind.
Can't really argue with the continued success of the Artcic Monkeys at these bashes, and wouldn't really want to argue with them after the ammount of free booze they seemed to have necked judging by their speeches. Don't reckon they'll be looking too good on the dancefloor tonight. I like the thought of Alexa Chung holding back Alex Turners hair at the end of the night though as he voms up the nights champagne. Such a cool couple. Like Pete and Kate but without the drugs. So far. With Ozzy and Winehouse backstage who knows who'll be gracing the front page of tomorrow's Sun with the headline '******'s DRUGS SHAME. My money's on Mark Owen. It's always the quiet ones.
Hopes for 2008's Brits:
Britney performs a beautiful ballad in rememberance of the 'tragic' death of The Kaisers. Possibly after being crushed by Ricky Wilson's enormous ego.
Someone wins best single for covering one of Mark Ronson's songs and coughing at the end of it to mark a difference.
Madonna performs, bringing one of her best iconic costumes out from the closet in honour. And pulls Mika out too whilst she's there.
Paul McCartney has to get the bus to next years ceremony due to having his bank balance wiped out by Heather Mills, then sells his Special Achievement gong to Robbie Williams to afford bar snacks whilst there. Robbie's only too happy to chip up the cash as lets face it, after Rudebox, thats the closest he's gonna get to that award.
Failing all that, if 2008's music scene is anything like last years, I can always switch off next year, pop on UK Gold and chuckle along to Vic Reeves back before he became a mortifying mess.
However, there were many valuable lessons to be learnt from the Brits in spite of this.
Firstly, that Vic Reeves stopped being funny in the 90s and shouldn't be allowed on TV, apart from on UK Gold for occassional repeats of Shooting Stars.
Secondly, as new starlet Adele undeniably proved, black isn't always slimming. And neither is standing in between Fearn Cotten and Mika. Just a tip.
One highlight though was the sensational return of Amy Winehouse and her sobriety. My friend Katie was sure that Amy's performance looked like that of a woman who was still using, due to her jittery movements and the fact she was shakey on her legs. I though, ever the first to hope for the best in folk, put it down to her trying to stand on those big ol' heels whilst also balancing that beast of a beehive.
Even a big Winehouse fan like me though can find it hard to forgive the fact she played her part in inflicting Mark Ronson on our radios. A man who's accent is almost as baffling as the fact that people actually buy "his" records. I'm very tempted to make an attempt for recognition myself following his steps:
Get a cheap recording system, invite the first woman with any sign of talent to warble a song by some dull band from whichever record is currently being called 'the best album since Definatley Maybe', add horns, and see if its me standing on the stage next year accepting 'my' Brit. Watch this space.
Another few frustrations:
Why are Take That winning awards and getting nominations for a song and an album that were released before last years Brits? Was 2007 that rubbish that we've had to recycle boy band excrement from the year before? And when Take That are 50 year old wrinklies shuffling about on stage to 'Relight my fire' will unimaginative ITV1 presenters still be calling them the 'comeback kings'? Yes they're back, get over it. My ears have had to. Leona should have got best single over them. Her performance of 'Bleeding Love' was sensational. Bet last years X factor winner was sitting at home watching and crapping himself. His name was Leon by the way, for those who've already forgotten.
More outrageous still was the absence of Britney in tonights nominations. I grudgingly accept as a hardcore Britney fan that there are some places Britney shouldn't be. Within 100ft of a nursery for example. However the Brits should have aknowledged the fact that in spite of sex, drugs and Kevin Federline she still managed to make the best pop album of 2007 by far.
Yet the ceremony has its head so far up Kylie's pert little arse it was almost poking out of her botox filled face. I didn't realise they gave out Brits for beating breast cancer. Yes, we all love Kylie, but awards should be reserved for people making good music, not people who just spend all day copying Madonna and reassuring their little sister that she'll "make it one day". Give it up Danni, shagging Simon Cowell isn't a music career.
I'll try and look at positives for our most prestigious music ceremony though. I liked the choice of hosts, the Osbournes are always fun. For once though, Ozzy was the most coherent, as Sharon and Kelly seemed to get on as well with the autocue as Beth Ditto gets on with the Atkins Diet. Loved Sharon proudly claiming that Bingo adds paid for her dress. God knows what paid for her cosmetic surgery. A big lottery win? I can only assume.
Am glad Kate Nash won something as well. I'd say 'Foundations' was the British track of the year and the album's amazing. Hope none of the other nominees in the best Female category were too bit-tah about the fact that The Brits at least decided one worthy winner would be quite appropriate.
Ok, being positive didn't last, how boring are the Kaiser Chiefs? Recreating the video for 'Ruby' just reminds us of what a pointless act they are. Would rather that slot had been filled with a few more of Vic Reeve's 'jokes', at least it would have given the tumbleweed something to do.
The Foo Fighters albums are also getting steadily worse so God knows why praise for them continues to grow. Recognition from The Brits is slightly like the hosts with their lines, trying to keep up but always that bit behind.
Can't really argue with the continued success of the Artcic Monkeys at these bashes, and wouldn't really want to argue with them after the ammount of free booze they seemed to have necked judging by their speeches. Don't reckon they'll be looking too good on the dancefloor tonight. I like the thought of Alexa Chung holding back Alex Turners hair at the end of the night though as he voms up the nights champagne. Such a cool couple. Like Pete and Kate but without the drugs. So far. With Ozzy and Winehouse backstage who knows who'll be gracing the front page of tomorrow's Sun with the headline '******'s DRUGS SHAME. My money's on Mark Owen. It's always the quiet ones.
Hopes for 2008's Brits:
Britney performs a beautiful ballad in rememberance of the 'tragic' death of The Kaisers. Possibly after being crushed by Ricky Wilson's enormous ego.
Someone wins best single for covering one of Mark Ronson's songs and coughing at the end of it to mark a difference.
Madonna performs, bringing one of her best iconic costumes out from the closet in honour. And pulls Mika out too whilst she's there.
Paul McCartney has to get the bus to next years ceremony due to having his bank balance wiped out by Heather Mills, then sells his Special Achievement gong to Robbie Williams to afford bar snacks whilst there. Robbie's only too happy to chip up the cash as lets face it, after Rudebox, thats the closest he's gonna get to that award.
Failing all that, if 2008's music scene is anything like last years, I can always switch off next year, pop on UK Gold and chuckle along to Vic Reeves back before he became a mortifying mess.
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