right here right now
My destructive side has grown a mile wide and I question myself again: what is it ’bout men?
Its time for another Pseudo-Science-Friday (so WAKE UP!)
Today’s topic is an oldie but a goodie. Men Vs Women.
(This is possibly a “Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping” now type mistake, but ah well, what’s a little controversy between friends)
So Men Vs Women; the hypothesis in detail Men have no souls.
(Oops I better clarify that one)
Men have no souls when it comes to their Ex’s.
The evidence: My ex is getting married in 3 weeks time. This is LTE who I lived with for 4(?) years and went out with for nearly 6. We ended in a civilised manner and I look back on him and our time together fondly. I am happy for him and his wife to be.
But it still makes me stabby. I am not quite sure of the reasoning behind this. I don’t want him (she’s is perfectly welcome to deal with his many foibles), I am happy (very happy) with my own situation in life (the boy is my George Lamb which is a high complement indeed) but I still get stabby feelings and a metallic taste in my mouth when I hear things about it (its not all avoidable, I wish it was).
(I don’t get why, I just do ok?)
But asking the Boy about this last night I got an amazed reaction. He, he said would not feel the same way about his LTE.
I was incredulous – surely everyone feels a little stabby when they see an Ex happy?
Or is it just girls? Do men really have no souls when it comes to an Ex?
Go…!
Hello little blog, oh how I have missed you this week. My brain is now free to indulge you with my witterings and pictures of my cats. Can I just say thank fuck for that? Put a fork in it, I’m done with the studying for the summer. Fireworks! balloons! cocktails!
Especially cocktails.
But in between me finishing the exams and getting steaming drunk this evening, the recognition that tomorrow is the last day of me living alone has smacked me right in the face. Just like I knew it would.
The Boy moves in on Saturday!!
Im sure I’m going to have plenty of whines and groans about it (especially that fact that I am having to buy him a wardrobe for all his clothes, 4 times as many as me) but they’ll come in time, once we have become an old married couple who spend time hating on each other. But, come on, it’ll make good blog fodder.
(B gives great blog fodder as he has such an ego – “I was born with a black man’s cock and a black man’s rhythm”. I’m glad I don’t have to disagree, but he’s so proud about it, it disgusts me)
Anyway, what I really wanted to say was to all those haters (you know who you are and even though you don’t read this) who did not believe in my beloved or that our relationship would get to this point, with no cheating, lots of honesty and best of all an amazingly good time – shucks to you – it’s 2 years now and he’s making a commitment to me.
Little old me.
Yes, especially cocktails.
(and yes, I am perfectly happy to accept I told you so’s and hugs when it all crashes down around my ears, but let me just have today. thankyouverymuchly)
Tomorrow is E day. The beginning of a week of hell.
I’m sick to the back teeth of Carbon Capture and Storage, Contraction and Convergence and the albedo effect (yes I am meant to know what all these things mean) and I need a break. I haven’t even started on learning how to answer the questions such as the following “Using labelled sketches, illustrate the principal differences between a radial-connected BMS and a distributed-intelligence BMS”.
…so, yes, i’m taking a break to blog about the fact i am going to fail my exams. Good one.
However, it is Sunday and i don’t miss a Sunday sundries post. So, this weekend has been all about…
…it being the last weekend of living on my own (it’s been 3 years since i last lived with a bloke – wow!) as the Boy moves in next weekend. It’s come round so fast and if it wasn’t for my blasted exams i would be thinking about it, looking forward to it and panicking more. However, once Thursday is over i am sure it will hit me like a big smack in the face – he-is-going-to-be-here-every-bloody-night…
…the cats having a fall out. My gorgeous fluffy fatty kitten has turned into a snarling hissing growling beast because the tomcat has started to go out again. I’m not sure if it’s because she is jealous, or he smells wrong or if she is being territorial. She can’t be that stupid that she doesn’t recognise him can she? Anyways i want my gorgeous kissy bundle of fur back thankyouverymuch…
…discovering Cos. Seriously, where has this shop been all my life? Love. I don’t go to Glasgow shopping enough it seems. I’m not so keen on the men’s range, but the women’s is stylish and affordable. I treated myself to a pale grey panelled jumper with cut outs for sleeves. Rock chicky with a luxury edge. Perfect. I love Sweden even more now…
…me being on Youtube! If you haven’t had a laugh at me via the post below, Email me or DM me for the password. Its worth it honestly to hear me sounding like a total geek!…
…and yes, all this has been interspersed with a lot of panic. Wish me luck…
It’s time for get your brains working – it’s pseudo-science Friday!
This week’s topic is shoes-that-do-something-other-than-just-protecting-your-feet-from-dog-shit and other similar ‘buy me because I work’ products. We’ve all bought something because of an advert (or in my case begged to be part of a free trial for Easytones) because as women who wouldn’t want to look like this? (Or men, would you say no? No. I make my point well my friends).
But is it achievable? Is this advert realistic? Let’s look at the evidence.
1) Can you see any cellulite?
The answer is of course, No. This woman is airbrushed to an inch of her life. But it was still my first thought on seeing this advert and it must be the thought of many women. (Cellulite is pretty indestructible believe me…. I still have it despite copious amounts of supposedly miracle Rodial Bum creams).
Of course Reebok don’t say in their adverts that these trainers will get rid of cellulite but you buy these trainers because you want to believe… I still do.
2) Check out that ass
I don’t have an ass that looks like that… and neither do you. It looks exactly like two peaches in a mesh bag; in fact its exactly the same size as two peaches in a mesh bag.
Now to me having an ass that small looks uncomfortable. I don’t know about you but I sit on mine for approximately 10 hours a day (not counting sleep) so I want a bit of cushioning, a bit of padding. Plus if my man grabbed that he’d be wondering if I was having a sex change (and thanks to Mitch I no longer consider this a totally a bad thing).
But i’m realistic, padding, like an old sofa, droops as you get older. We all need a little help in this department, to keep it up there. I refuse on principle to wear Spanx. UGLY. But I don’t want to be appearing on peopleofwalmart.com coming out of my local Asda. So anything that offers to help is welcome in my book.
3) Is she actually doing anything?
Well, apart from standing up, talking on the phone, not so much. There are no gym clothes in sight. This advert screams at you that these trainers work without you having to do anything (although she better watch out she doesn’t trip over that cord).
So, all I need to do is walk, or stand, or push the Hoover around whilst wearing them? Excellente – as a couch potato (and one that would never make it to a 5K), this is officially a win in my book. These shoes have officially been re-branded as the perfect shoes for lazy-asses-like-smidge.
4) A later advert here gives actual figures.
I like figures. I like refusing to give my weight in kilos (over a hundred, surely that’s wrong?) rather than stones. I like measuring my waist in the same way. Bigger inches are always better than smaller centimetres.
So a 28% improvement on my ass and 11% on my legs but without the nasty workout (and the gear and fat men)? This sounds pretty damn good to me. Ok, I don’t believe these figures are in anyway possible to achieve just by wearing a pair of shoes… and only walking. But I still want to believe.
Anyways …here comes the pseudo-science bit.
I have yet to notice any bodily changes since getting my Easytones. But mind changes, that’s a different matter. Since having the shoes I have made an effort to walk to work every day rather than catching the bus. I even walk to my dance class in them (and then change when I get there). Anything that has got me off my padded ass is worth it in my book.
Plus they aint ugly like Sketchers.
Have you ever bought something just because of the advert even though you know its blatantly an (aspirational) lie?