If I had the wherewithal (and funds) to open a shop I’d call it Plain Jane’s. A place for women who shop like men. ‘We know what we want and we don’t want to sell a kidney to get it.’

Everything would be arranged by colour in a horseshoe layout. There’d be three versions of any item (at most) and you’d be in and out in a matter of minutes.

Recently, my husband braved going shopping with me for a green top. That’s all I wanted–a top of the solid green variety. We went to several places and it was mission impossible. Everything had beads, fringe, sequins, etc. And were quite a bit more expensive in comparison to the male clothing.

That’s because males don’t care nearly as much about apparel as women do so retailers can’t charge as much. Lucky twats.

However, with the advent of the ‘meterosexual’ and effing Jersey Shore, it’s becoming desirable for men to look great whether it be through clothing or skin and hair care products. They don’t even get called gay for it anymore. Though there’s a reason for that. *

I mean, look at this shit:

What. The Fuck, people.

The absolute best part of that advert is when they go to a shot of the guy applying the nail varnish. No one can do that without looking like a giant girl. I was waiting for his tongue to poke out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. They cut back to a close up of his hands pretty damn quick, I suppose to show he was indeed putting on polish himself. Looking like a big girl.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love me some goth dudes in fishnet tops and eyeliner with backcombed hair. (Noel Fielding, yes, hello.) What gets me is the, ‘Nah, bro, you don’t have to be sensitive or intelligent or thoughtful to cultivate your appearance; you can totally be a steroid-moron and wear cosmetics. RAWR!’ message. Don’t worry. We don’t think you like dudes, because that would be totally gross. We know you had to take time out of your busy banging-all-the-vapid-chicks-wearing-bandages-for-a-dress schedule to shoot this commercial.

I can’t roll my eyes far enough into my head.

*I would like to thank Paddy K for his hilarious post about this very thing, otherwise I wouldn’t have known about AlphaNail and my life would have been just a bit emptier.

RAWR

Update: From Cracked 5 Men’s Products That are Clearly Women’s Products . Alpha Nail makes an appearance. Because, of course.

Look at this:

Now. Look at this:

They look a bit different, yeah? It could be because they’re for two different countries.

This is news to some, as only recently did the Library of Congress decide to reverse a decision to classify Scots authors as English .

How very American. Why don’t we just say all English speakers are Yanks and be done with it. Oh no, we need to distinguish between proper Americans and Everyone Else That Speaks English. So we’ll have Americans and the English. Done and done. So much easier to keep up with.

Isn’t it funny when furriners get ticked off when you think they’re some somewhere else? Like anyone can tell the difference between Ireland and Australia, anyway. Sheesh.

Maybe next they’ll try to classify the Irish as English and we can see how fireproof the Library of Congress building is.

(And I love that Congressman McIntyre–an American of Irish decent–is the one on the Friends of Scotland Caucus to help reverse the decision. Are Jocks ticked that a Mick had to help them out?)

And just for fun, I had to look up the epithet for Scottish people and found this hysterical list of epithets. Just in case you’re ever around a flaming racist and can’t figure out what they’re on about.

[This post is from a previous blog. Original pub date: 12 January 2008]

This is an IM conversation I had last evening with a friend who lives a block away from the Church of Scientology headquarters in L.A.

Her: -I found out today that my local polling place was at the Church of Scientology…and it’s EVERY BIT AS CREEPY as you might imagine … there were so many people there with this look on their faces: 0_0

Me: I bet.
How creepy?
Tell me all about it.

Her: it didn’t help that the place they held the polling, the “Chapel” was one door down from a sign indicating the “Purification Center”

Me: LMAO

Her: for starters, the whole building is painted this weird, “soothing” blue
so you go in, and you enter through the gift shop
which only sells one of L. Ron Hubbard’s books, translated into about a dozen languages
not just Romantic languages either but like Korean
and we got directed to the polling location downstairs… no windows
lined with these posters for Hubbard books
like Photoshopped posters for a shitty movie-of-the-book
but no movie
does that make sense?
just hideous posters for the book
and some stylized glass insets with geometric shapes and showing the relation of one emotion to another
in short, it couldn’t possibly be MORE obviously like a cult

Me: I would loved to have seen the expressions on everyone’s faces

Her: this lady who was waiting in front of me in the line to vote said, “Be careful, one wrong move and the next thing you know, you’ll find yourself in a sailor suit.”

Me: LMAO
‘B-but… I want to be purified.’

Her: really
funnily enough, the sounds coming from the purification whatever sounded like treadmills

I’m probably on some list now, but whatever.

Charles Pierre Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet most well-known for Les Fleurs du Mal (The Flowers of Evil) and the first person to translate Edgar Allan Poe’s work into French.

An aesthete and dandy, he believed (and practised) in the pleasures of the senses. This led him to possibly contract syphilis and gonorrhea. Oh well.

Like Virginia Woolf, he believed art should capture the small, ephemeral moments of life. Unlike Woolf, he was of an impressively cynical mindset and loved him some irony. Though a cynic, he also believed people were fundamentally good. (A view he and I share. They may seem to be diametrically opposed, but, though the world seems harsh and awful, we also believe that it can be better-that man has the capacity to improve and to rise above.)

Similarly to holding seemingly contradictory worldviews, The Flowers of Evil is both grotesque and beautiful with several poems focusing on the putrefaction of the physical body after death whilst carrying on to wax lyrical on the beauty of life. This could be stomach-churning to the faint of disposition, but makes sense in that one can’t fully appreciate life if one isn’t intensely aware of death.

The juxtaposition of death and living life vigorously-and lending a poetic beauty to both-is echoed in Nine Inch Nails lyrics. Reznor’s words can be nauseating but simultaneously truthful and evocative and can express both disgust and a deep affection for a woman, much like Baudelaire. Both have also been reviled by the masses as being immoral and disgusting, but celebrated by those aware of the true nature of existence.

When initially published, Les Fleurs du Mal was receiving well amongst the literary set though several poems were removed prior to publication being deemed obscene (including one about lesbianism). However, most of his work was published after his death.

My favourite thing about Baudelaire is that, when acquainted with Poe’s stories, he felt Poe was expressing thoughts in his own mind that had not fully formed. That feeling of intellectual companionship is something readers most look for, I think. We read to find people of our own views and whims, but who more beautifully articulate those views and whims. We read to find friends without regard to nationality or age. And I’m glad to have found a friend in good old Baudey.

The Last Goths of Tashkent

Goths in Uzbekistan are being targeted by police for a variety of non-crimes; including desecration of a cemetery, which is complete rubbish as Goths love cemeteries. We’d never desecrate one.

Some are considering moving to other countries. It makes those of us lucky enough to live in the West grateful for being able to wear what we want. Yes, people may think we’re freaks, but we’re (hopefully) less likely to be arrested to no purpose.

It’s a damn shame about the goths of Tashkent, too, because they are several shades of attractive. You can live near me any time.

I was having a sort out of my internet bookmarks and came across every book in Phil Elyrum’s house . It’s from 2007, but it’s still wonderful.

When I’m compelled to attend a party at someone’s house, I always check out the books on the shelves. (If the person doesn’t have shelves of books I re-evaluate our relationship.) This page was like being allowed to peruse someone’s library without the prerequisite of having to form and maintain a relationship with said person. In other words-I wish everyone I know would do this so I could easily work out if we had anything in common to discuss. Forget telling me your likes and dislikes-what books and authors do you love/loathe?

[Phil Elvrum is a member of a band called Mount Eerie that produces some of the most interesting and unique music I’ve heard. I’m rubbish at describing music so here’s a description of how he works from Wikipedia: “Phil Elvrum is known and noted for his manipulation of analog recording devices and unique recording approach. His records have a distinct, natural sound. Most of the Microphones catalog was recorded on a broken 16 track reel to reel tape machine while his recent material has been recorded on an 8 track reel to reel.” Really, it’s amazing.]

Whoa, mama, have I been introduced to the best coffee ever!A co-worker of mine is married to a woman from Vietnam and she’s finally been allowed in the country (after two years of paperwork and waiting). She’s a darling individual and I’m not just saying that because she’s my new speed dealer.

She brought over 10 kilos of Vietnamese coffee. Vietnam is one of the world’s chief exporters of coffee and boy do I see why. Today she made me iced coffee–iced is more popular there probably because it’s 90 degrees and humid most of the time–and sakes alive is it some potent stuff. I love it!

Here is an excellent post from Wandering Chopsticks explaining how to make this delicious drink.

I’m going to be hopped up on this stuff all weekend! Wahoo!

[This post is from a previous blog. Original post date: 5 March, 2008]

English food is much (undeservedly) maligned, but even the harshest food critic admits that the English do a brilliant job of breakfast. We don’t really have places that do breakfast twenty-four hours a day, though. Which is a shame.

American Southerners know something about breakfast, as well, though theirs is more about calories, butter and syrup than beans, mushrooms and tomatoes. However, in the Southern part of the States there are three eating establishments that serve breakfast all day: The Waffle House, Cracker Barrel and the International House of Pancakes (IHOP). (Waffle House is open 24/7, so, technically, they serve breakfast all day and all night.)

The atmosphere and clientele between the three vary drastically, however.

Of the three, Cracker Barrel has the most traditionally Southern food. Typically, Country & Western music plays in the background. In my experience, the waitresses tend to ‘honey’ and ‘sugar’ you in a way they don’t at IHOP, but could do at Waffle House. It’s the kind of place you feel comfortable lingering. There’s also a shop attached where you can purchase a variety of ‘home-spun’ gifts. Their ‘biscuits and gravy’ are amazing.

Waffle House has my favourite food, but the atmosphere of a greasy spoon. Their motto is: ‘Where Americans work, where Americans eat.’ I’ve eaten a few times at five different Waffle Houses in different cities in North Carolina and, across the board, the other people dining were rural Southerners from Central Casting. Also, at every place I’ve eaten, there have been regulars, chatting with the staff or starting conversations with non-regular customers. I have never eaten in a place where diners openly talked to other diners (and it puts me right off). I try to get in and out as quickly as possible, but their waffles are fantastic. They don’t do pancakes. One could loiter there all day, I believe.

IHOP is the most corporate and has the most… rotund customers (again, in my experience). They have a truly impressive list of ways of cooking eggs (yet they don’t poach them, what’s the point of that, then?) and several types of syrup. They specialise in pancakes and waffles loaded with fruit and whipped cream. IHOP’s atmosphere-very bright and antiseptic-doesn’t encourage taking one’s time over coffee and chatting. Their crepes (a pancake rolled up and filled with cheese or fruit) are very nice.

All three places serve good food, and I’d recommend out-of-country visitors to try all of them.

I’m getting my longest tattoo yet tomorrow, and I’d like to do as much as I can during the first sitting. My current limit has been 2.5 hours, where I only use distraction techniques like reading and breathing. I want to go like a pro tomorrow, though, so I consulted the internet.

This is an excellent post about coping with the pain of a long tattoo.

Short version:

1. Beforehand eat a large and balanced meal and take some ibuprofen.
2. Have snacks and drink (and more ibuprofen for swelling) during the tattoo to sustain blood sugar levels.
3. Take things with which to distract yourself-books, iPod, laptops, etc.
4. The biggie: breathing and meditation techniques:

The simplest way to reach this relaxed state is to focus all thought upon one’s breathing, literally one single breath at a time, if needed. The brief pauses in the tattoo process, when the tattooer is dipping into his ink caps or cleaning her needle tips, provide frequent opportunities for taking a deep breath, releasing tension, and resetting one’s mental focus.

Imagine as you exhale air, that you’re releasing the uncomfortable sensation felt in that moment. Over and over again, in each passing moment, this technique can help remind you of your own strength and endurance.

He also mentions topical anaesthesia like Bactine products. I’ll ask my artist about it, though.

My grandmother passed away in 2005 and her fur coats fell to me, where they’ve hung in my cupboard. We’ve been having a clear out lately and I wanted to do something with them. I figured I’d wind up selling them, but I had no idea what they were worth or which of them was fake. (One of the three isn’t real.)

Today I found out that wildlife rehabilitators use them to comfort unwell and orphaned animals.

From this page:

Fur can provide warmth and comfort to orphaned and injured wild animals. Wildlife rehabilitators will usually cut the fur into an appropriate size for the animal, whether it be a bobcat, fox, raccoon, squirrel, or rabbit, and place it inside the animal’s enclosure. The furry blanket becomes a surrogate mother to orphaned animals, reducing stress and giving comfort.

One rehabilitator related a story about a restless orphaned river otter who chirped constantly. Once she was given a fur blanket, she settled right down. Turning the sleeve of a fur coat inside out, a rehabilitator can also create a warm nest for a burrowing animal such as an opossum. Some animals adopt a piece of fur as a playmate, jumping on it and wrestling with it.

That wrong-side-out sleeve thing sounds so comfortable.

The page above is primarily American, though there is one contact for Canada. I have been unable to find a site for the U.K. If you know of rehabbers in other countries who re-purpose fur coats, please post in the comments.

I read a recent article about how to best use coffee without becoming addicted (or breaking your current addiction) and it reminded me of an article in the New York Times about coffee.

My favourite bit, a note about how coffee is self-regulating, unlike other stimulates cocaine or meth. “Too much cocaine makes you feel invincible; too much coffee makes you think you’re having a nervous breakdown.”

That reminds me of when I heard Gertrude Stein and Co liked n alcoholic beverage that had coffee in. I thought, “I like coffee. I like alcohol. Brilliant!”

So I got some.

Holy crap, my friends. I was drunk. I was in over-drive. I’ve never done cocaine or had a psychotic break but I thought perhaps that’s what it felt like.

I’ve just realised that simply typing about the episode had made me open my eyes as wide as they’d go…

I had a doctors appointment this morning. I arrived on time and therefore had about an hour of reading time. Last night I packed the bag I’d be taking as I didn’t want to be late because I couldn’t decide which book to take. Every reader I know goes through the ‘Which book(s) should I take to the doctor/on vacation?’ thing. [This post was written prior to acquiring a Kindle a.k.a. The Greatest Invention of Modern Times]

So I read a bit while waiting for my turn and I was the only person with a book in a full waiting room. This never ceases to amaze me. You know you’re going somewhere you’ll have to wait…it just seems logical to take something to occupy your time. If I find myself somewhere without reading material of some sort (the Levenger catalogue, at least) I can only think about how stupid I am for forgetting something to read.

Counting on this, doctors’ offices provide periodicals spanning several decades, but more patients weren’t flipping through those than were. (Not that reading about incoming PM Thatcher’s plans isn’t riveting, you know.)

But what do non-readers think? I’m not suggesting non-readers don’t think–I’m just wondering what’s going on in there without something on which to focus. Maybe they’re pondering the mysteries of the universe. Perhaps they’re thinking the equivalent of a hanging cadence.

I’m not sure if it’s a good sign or bad that I can’t remember the last time I just sat without something to focus on, be it my computer, music or a book … or all three. Perhaps that says more about me than them.

This might be my medication talking, but journey with me now on my stream of consciousness, won’t you? Readers and non-readers are two separate groups, aren’t they? And crossing into the other territory is something I cannot fathom. I simply cannot put myself in the shoes of a non-reader. Probably any more so than they could imagine to be me.

It’s rather like the introvert/extrovert divide, I think.
So much of my life is governed by love of the printed word becoming a non-reader would require overhauling everything. My house would be minimalist in design to a degree of Zen, my bank account would be healthier, that’s for certain, but…what would I think about? What would I write about? What would be the point of getting up in the morning? How would I escape the world or find new ones…or make new friends and enemies without having to remember birthdays or do constant battle…learn about myself and other viewpoints?

Great, now I’m having some sort of existential crisis because I realise I get most of my information about the world and my place in it through books. I am completely dependent on them. Without them I have no place to start. Books complete me.

[Original Post date: 9 August, 2006]

The West Memphis Three have been released, seventeen years after they were convicted of committing a crime they most likely didn’t commit.

That is as it should be (well, not really, they shouldn’t have been sent to prison in the first place, but I digress.)

Contingent on the young men being released was they had to change their pleas from ‘not guilty’ to ‘guilty.’ But they’re using the Alford Plea. According to Anne Bremner, a Seattle attorney and legal analyst, as reported by the Huffington Post, is: ‘”The plea means that you maintain your innocence but you believe there is a substantial likelihood that a jury will find you guilty so you are pleading guilty per State v. Alford.”

Occasionally, in real life, you’ll hear a person jokingly ‘plead the fifth’. I think we’re going to start hearing people in relationships with insecure people using the Alford Plea. Like so:

Insane Person: You’re cheating on me, aren’t you?
Glutton for Punishment: No. I’ve told you-it’s my mother I’ve been texting.
Insane Person: I don’t believe you!
Glutton for Punishment: Here. This is my mother’s name on my phone, as well as her birth certificate. It’s the same person.
Insane Person: YOU TEXTED HER TO SAY YOU LOVE HER.
Glutton for Punishment: Yes. She’s my mother and I love her. It does happen.
Insane Person: YOU’RE LYING. SHE’S NOT REALLY YOUR MOTHER.
Glutton for Punishment: All right. You’ve got me.
Insane Person: … Really?
Glutton for Punishment: No. But I’m entering the Alford Plea. I’m innocent, but you’re going to convict me at any rate. This was I’ll save the next five hours, during which you’ll wear me down until I agree with you simply to get some peace. So… Yes, I’m madly in love with a woman twice my age with whom I happen to share the same eyes and chin.
Insane Person: … So…
Glutton for Punishment: In a court of law, it’s equivalent to entering a plea of guilty. So let’s get on with my punishment so we can get on to your next ridiculous accusation.
Insane Person: … So… I win?
Glutton for Punishment: Yes. You win. I’m cheating on you. Congratulations.

Read the Huffington Post article here .

What do you call a person who fluently speaks two dialects of the same language? Bi-dialectician? Whatever it is, I am. I speak both American and British English like a native.

That said, American spelling looks to be missing something, some phrases (in both dialects) make no sense and some pronunciations sound better to my ear-the beginning ‘e’ of ‘economics’ and ‘evolution’ should be long and the second syllables of ‘research’ and ‘frustrated’ should be stressed, and words beginning with ‘sch’ should be pronounced like ‘sk’, for example. But I do not besmirch the names of those that pronounce those words in other, accepted, ways.

Due to the popularity of American television shows Americanisms have been infiltrating British English for several decades now.

On 13 July there was an article in the magazine on the BBC News site entitled Why Do Some Americanisms Irritate People?

The quote that best sums up my feelings on the matter: “Britain is a very distinct country from the US. Not better, not worse, different. And long live that difference. That means maintaining the integrity of our own gloriously nuanced, subtle and supple version - the original version - of the English language. ”

A follow up piece was posted 19 July. Americanisms: Your 50 Most Noted Examples

I wasn’t surprised by some of the vitriol in that article, because it seems unfair that one language is being devoured by the other, and all of the flow is in one direction.

Many Americans believe that the English speak the language the way it was meant to be spoken, but if an American uses English phraseology, their fellow Americans think them up themselves. Because Americans consider the English to be superior to the Yanks, any American using British English must be trying to give themselves airs.

Whereas, English people over-using American phrases appear-to the Brits-to be trying too hard to be hip. There is no graver insult to an English person than being seen to be trying too hard.

English people using American also come across as being sloppy. Because Americans are a sloppy, blunt people. Yanks aren’t known for nuanced language.

The one group that highly prizes Americanisms are hip hop artists and chavs. Because Americans are seen as excelling rather spectacularly at violence and intimidation.

The inspiration for this post came from an article on the twelfth of this month, England Riots: What’s the Meaning of the Words Behind the Chaos? , which was about the American-grown words used before, during and after the riots: ‘po po’, ‘feds’, ‘5-0’.

You can tell a lot about a people by the language they use, as well as the language used about them. Choose your words wisely.

Most of the upcoming posts are going to concern my thoughts about Satanism. Though I will be quoting from and linking to documents from the Church of Satan, I am not a member, nor do I profess to represent the Church.

This blog consists entirely of my own opinions and the conclusions I reach from my reading.