November 2007 Archives

Lolololol!

A good site for days that involve bodies.

And award for best title goes to...

Absolutely nothing of interest happened to me today. Though, before work, I was leafing through someone's copy of the Scottish Sun (it amuses me, the way that they use some stock phrases like everyone else breathes) and read about this story. The copy was virtually identical to the Beeb's report, except that the Sun reported the police as appealing for information, as the girl was "traumatized" by the incident (the Sun tend to go in for excessive hyperbole, it makes them look wordy). The wording of the article sort of obfuscates the exact nature of the assault (indecent assualt and sexual assault legally don't mean the same as rape, still) but as they are describing it as rape in the headline, it must've been that. Melissa at Shakesville pointed out the differences between two reports of the same news story recently, regarding a Brazilian girl who was left in a cell with about 20 male prisioners for about a month. I won't just parrot what she says, so click on the link and read.

In other non-news; Scottish Sun publishes a photo of a nude couple embracing. Man has extremely hairy bum. Every woman pictured in the paper, other than Wendy Alexander, is pictured in a manner that sexualises them. Shite is printed about I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here so they can print yet another photo of Gemma Atkinson in a bikini or her bra. Today's photo involved the strangest balconette bra I've ever seen, her breasts were the strangest shape, like they were trying to escape to freedom. It was almost a negative-sag.

Oh, and people died needlessly (in numbers far higher than the average Sun reader can comprehend as you don't often get that many quarter bottles of Grant's vodka), but how do you use the internet in your sex-life?

Ok, so I don't like being single. I can do it, it's not that bad to be honest and I can deal with my own company. But not all the time. I rarely disagree with myself, so having a good discussion is difficult. I miss the comfort of falling asleep with someone nearby. Admittedly, save for one occasion, during the night I usually get pushed over the mattress then abandoned with a 2" wide strip of duvet to keep me warm, and sometimes wake up with new bruises from where I've been kicked or whacked with a stray arm in the night. Or kept awake all night by someone snoring. If I didn't know that there was someone out there who I could fall asleep with, and wake up with in almost the same position (and crucially, retaining all feeling in both arms) then maybe it would be easier. This person also kissed me in random places (no, nothing dirty, I had all my clothes on at the time, as did he) without having to be encouraged or outright told to. And, this is the single most important bit, he gave me the space I needed. As I may have mentioned in the past, evilIain read my diary as a matter of course and would go through my MSN logs. Ben would text a hundred times a day, to find out what I was doing and who I was doing it with. Maybe he thought I might cheat on him?

I would never say that this person is perfect, because a) it's a blatant lie; nobody's perfect, but some are more agreeably imperfect than others and b) to call someone perfect is to set them up for a fall from a very high pedestal.

My biggest imperfection? My apparent inability to let go. Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly debilitated by the situation; I'm perfectly capable of getting on with things and starting to think about planning for the future (these plans will firm up once I'm in a permanent job) and I do look at other men. Unfortunately, all that I've seen are too imperfect.

So, it's day 5 of the 16 Days campaign.

Here's a little somethin' somethin' for any men who happen to read this...

What you can do to help end violence against women:

1. Acknowledge and understand how sexism, male dominance and male privilege lay the foundation for all forms of violence against women.

2. Examine and challenge our individual sexism and the role that we play in supporting men who are abusive.

3. Recognize and stop colluding with other men by getting out of our socially defined roles, and take a stance to end violence against women.

4. Remember that our silence is affirming. When we choose not to speak out against men's violence, we are supporting it.

5. Educate and re-educate our sons and other young men about our responsibility in ending men's violence against women.

6."Break out of the man box"—Challenge traditional images of manhood that stop us from actively taking a stand to end violence against women.

7. Accept and own our responsibility that violence against women will not end until men become part of the solution to end it. We must take an active role in creating a cultural and social shift that no longer tolerates violence against women.

8. Stop supporting the notion that men's violence against women can end by providing treatment for individual men. Mental illness, lack of anger management skills, chemical dependency, stress, etc… are only excuses for men's behavior. Violence against women is rooted in the historic oppression of women and the outgrowth of the socialization of men.

9. Take responsibility for creating appropriate and effective ways to develop systems to educate and hold men accountable.

10. Create systems of accountability to women in your community. Violence against women will end only when we take direction from those who understand it most—women.

Two pieces of (relatively) exciting news today.

#1: I had a job interview, for a job that I was so sure that I wouldn't get, I didn't even tell Mum 'til last night, when making arrangements to get into Glasgow etc., never mind wittering about it here. Based on what the store manager was saying, I may well have a 2nd interview to attend next week. Or she was just being really nice.
Anyway. The salary would be enough for me to live in relative comfort (it'd allow me to buy the Compeed blister plasters, is what I mean) and the opening hours would work quite well for me. And I pass the shop almost every time I go to Rape Crisis, so it's a convenient location too.

#2: MITTENS! If you recall the purple starry hat I had on in a picture I posted a month or so back, they match that. And came with a black and purple stripey pair. The last time I had mittens would have been when I was about 6 years old. My hands look really long to me in them. But they're soooo fabulous!

Two things: I've just discovered a lovely new comic, Cat and Girl, and this strip is just about perfect. I can see me requesting presents from Hell on a regular basis between now and Christmas. And, indeed, beyond.

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In other news, there's a Killers song that I actually really like! Normally, they just annoy me a bit, then I read an interview with Brandon Flowers and I feel an urge to slap him (and shave off the ridiculous moustache he had for a while there) but Tranquilize is actually good. That may have a lot to do with Lou Reed being involved with it, but still. What has me completely non-plussed is that they have enough for a non-standard album. I mean, it's not like they're as prolific as, say System Of A Down. Or maybe my total lack of interest in them means that they do, but I don't care enough to find out about it. Meh. Lou Reed, though. Fucking rocks.

Via eMusic, I have downloaded about half of Cake's B-Sides and Rarities album (same concept as Sawdust by the Killers, but undoubtedly better) Strangers In The Night and Mahna, Manha. Based on that alone, the Killers can suck my cock. Figuratively speaking, of course. I've started the process of trying to get a new Walkman, I'll be able to add them to the ever-expanding Phavourites playlist soon. Hopefully.

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While I'm really tired right now, I'm off to watch the DVD I got today. Or, at least, some of it. Fizzy Logic came in yesterday, and with my discount it's cheaper than Amazon. Two things to bear in mind on this; there's two people I could give it to (but I don't use gifts like DVDs, CDs or books before giving them to the recipient) and I may have just scuppered a really excellent gift idea for someone who may have been thinking about getting it for me. Except they won't likely read my blog, so will never know (MwAHahaha!) I'd invite you to join me but it's getting late and I'm not sure you can see the telly from where you are, so have this to tide you over until Christmas, when I have a spare copy going as Alan got it for me too...

It looks like I may be bungee-jumping with hairy spiders soon. Checking my hotmail account, I received an email via Friends Reunited that indicated that someone is trying to arrange a reunion for my old high school. I even remember the girl in question; we were kind of friends for a while. Also, the year below me. I'm not even a little bit surprised that no-one from my year has ever bothered their backsides to do it. The yearbook committee did jack shit for 6th year, the Prom committee were far too interested in being the epitome of cool and drinking long vodkas* in the Meadowpark Hotel (aka 'The Med', an establishment one went to if one sought yet another love-bite from a boy who had his own car) of a weekend. So the sum acheivements of the Class of '96? Paper recycling was done, otherwise diddly-squat.

The upshot of all that is that there's going to be a reunion for me to actively not go to. Seriously, why would I want to spend an evening with these people of my own volition, and probably shell out for the pleasure? Because I'm not married and have no kids, nor did I graduate and I also don't have much of a career to speak of, I would get the exact same looks of pity and derision that I got 10 years ago. Nevermind that I've got opinions on things, and can talk about things other than how much money I make and how the kids are doing at school and what company car I drive and how much of a pension I'll get when I retire and whereabouts in Florida the family timeshare is and the length of my commute and you get the idea, right? Because I'm not (nor ever have been) their version of normal, my ex-schoolmates will think that I'm still somehow below them. When I rule the world, in my fabulous shoes and sequinned cocktail gowns, I shall have them all crushed like the flies on the windscreen of life that they were.


I'm a little disturbed that that idea is making me a little happy... It must be the fabulous shoes bit, right? Right?



*Alcopops were invented after I left school. Pretty much a year after.

Today's feminist girl-crush: Courtney E. Smith, for this article in the New Statesman. And it's so refreshing to read comments that aren't a bunch of men going 'but I don't rape or beat women, how dare you say that men do'. Seriously, that's the first feminist article I've read online that hasn't caused the flashing and the popping in my head.

Why can't men understand that we know that it's just a minority of men who do these things, but by letting them think it's ok, we are all a little implicit? *sigh* Why can't people think more like me and Courtney? Why, for the love of gods, someone please tell me, why???

Also; gonna go order the current copy of Subtext magazine. Not got a link just now, will sort it later when Mum isn't breathing down my neck to get on the PC.


edit: Subtext link here

Had another twiddle with the innards of Evadnie. I can now change the playlist, though the screen still isn't working, and I still can't transfer anything on to it. I think the problem's at the end where the USB cable plugs in. Anyway.

I can change the playlist! I was worried that I would be stuck listening to my depressing songs bookmark list until I came up with a viable alternative; a prospect I was not relishing. Listening to the same half dozen (if even that) songs all the way into Glasgow and back out again was getting a bit boring, not to mention the effect it had on my mood. As I recall, the songs on that list are Breathe Me - Sia, In My Body - Smashing Pumpkins, Speed of Pain - Marilyn Manson, Minerva - Deftones, The End Of The World - Nina Gordon (you've probably heard it by someone else, it's the song that goes "Don't they know it's the end of the world, it ended when you took your love away/said goodbye/etc"), The Nobodies - Marilyn Manson, I'm Not Working - Manic Street Preachers. Between that and the topic for this evening's training being drug abuse, no wonder I felt a bit grim by the time I met Mum.

Changing the playlist is still a little hit and miss. Without the screen, there's a lot of guess work with when to press buttons and how many times. It's silly, though. A new Walkman would cost about £30 on eBay, including postage, and yet I'm still refusing to give up on Evadnie. She's seen me through a lot, and I really am that stubborn. Sometimes, the universe does bend to my will, in small ways. Enough that I think it might for the big things, even though it never does. *sigh*

Still haven't sorted out Evadnie. There may soon be a pile up of ripped CDs... A special edition of Zwan's album is thumbing a lift from the US as we speak (what? It has a DVD with it. It was all of about £2 on Amazon Marketplace. And if Billy can do a whole album of happy happy love songs, there's hope for me yet.) and a remixed version of Year Zero - Nine Inch Nails has come out. Add that to the 15 page list on my Amazon wishlist, which is mostly musical in nature; mix in the somewhat broken nature of my mp3 player and we have ourselves an awkward situation. Especially as I seem to have totally forgotten that I can use my stereo to listen to CDs, not just the radio.
I may yet ask my Dad to have a go with it. But he's sleeping right now.

Anyway. Enough with the procrastination, rooms do not tidy themselves, nor does hair change colour on it's own. My life would go much more smoothly if they did. And if men would stop raping women*, I wouldn't have to train or volunteer and life would be pretty grand. And not just for me.


*not to say that men only rape women.

101. Gotten a tattoo
Two, to be exact about it, and plans for a couple more. Just as soon as I can cough up for them and work out where I want them to go...

102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
Nah, other things turn me on.

103. Rafted the Snake River
I'm not even sure where that is.

104. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
My specialist subjects are: shoes, glitter, Star Trek minutae, the Smashing Pumpkins, the feminist perspective of modern society and the media, Benefit cosmetics, books from charity shops and second-hand records. The BBC will be calling any minute now...

105. Got flowers for no reason
Just after 'meeting' Ben, he sent me flowers at work. Then again a couple of months later. After that, I was lucky to get a small bunch from Tesco's, price sticker half torn off. I would love to be sent red roses or sunflowers, but it doesn't look like it's to be.

106. Masturbated in a public place
Like, ew.

107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything
A very long time ago. It was Christmas Eve and my friend Sheila had promised to take me out. I recall the black vodka and some cheap bubbly, then was woken up with the imprint of the loo seat on my forehead. The following day, I could not move without vomiting.

108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
I think I've managed to avoid any physiological addiction. I even only smoked because I wanted to, and it was cool. In a not-cool way.

109. Performed on stage
Ahem. In the Gang Show.

110. Been to Las Vegas
Unless you can be sure that there will be a Warick in my hotel room, it doesn't hold much of an appeal for me. Well, maybe the Star Trek Experience....

111. Recorded music
Of course, several multi-platinum records. In my mind.

112. Eaten shark
I'm a bit iffy about eating anything that could eat me.

113. Had a one-night stand
Hated it. I'm not that kind of person.

114. Gone to Thailand
Would like to, but I gather it can be a bit muggy and clammy. I don't do well in that kind of heat.

115. Seen Siouxsie live
*sigh*

116. Bought a house
With evilpsychoIain. What a good idea that was.

117. Been in a combat zone
Thankfully, no.

118. Buried one/both of your parents
I think they'd have something to say about being put in a small box. If I was going to do that, I'd make sure they were cremated, anyway.

119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
The crazy thing is, I've done it about twice. The flashbacks from the itching and the rash still has me screaming in the night.

120. Been on a cruise ship
Maybe when I'm 70 and wearing elasticated waistbands.

121. Spoken more than one language fluently
Sadly, no. Being left-handed, and therefore right-brained, I'm not so good with languages. Words, yes.

122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone

123. Bounced a check
It was an accident, I'm far too honest to ever try that deliberatly.

124. Performed in Rocky Horror
I'm sure it would be wild fun.

125. Read - and understood - your credit report
No, I think it would make me near-suicidal.

126. Raised children
Just myself.

127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
Hello Kitty things count, right? I can't really recall my childhood so well, so don't remember what I played with.

128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
I'd love to, but it's a question of time and money.

129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
That sounds like the kind of sappy thing you'd do with your loved one. If I had a loved one, I so would. It would be breath-takingly romantic.

130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
Not even a regular bicycle tour in this country.

131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
'Ancestors' implies hundreds of years ago to me, but about a hundred or so years ago, someone on my Dad's side was a diver in building Tower Bridge in London.

132. Called or written your Congress person
I don't even know how my local MP or MSP is. Or MEP.

133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Mostly because it was the only idea.

134. ...more than once?
Give it time. If I wasn't commited to Rape Crisis, I'd probably have gone from here months ago.

135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
Really, really want to.

136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
Not in the car, but while at work.

137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
Nope *touches wood*

138. Had plastic surgery
Never been badly enough burned or scarred.

139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived
Beyond my conception? No. The impact with a car was never in danger of being fatal.

140. Wrote articles for a large publication
Hundreds. In my mind.

141. Lost over 100 pounds
I lost a couple of dress sizes, but no.

142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
I don't think so.

143. Piloted an airplane
No, but my parents used to fly gliders (and Dad used to have a pilot's license) and every time I get on a plane, I want to be a pilot, so maybe I should follow that one through a bit more.

144. Petted a stingray
Well, I think it was a stingray. It was a flat fish at St. Andrew's Sea Life Centre. They're really smooth on their undersides and the one in question looked like it had a little pink nose.

145. Broken someone's heart
You'd have to ask other people. I really don't think so.

146. Helped an animal give birth


147. Been fired or laid off from a job
Was fired from Specsavers (which was such a personal disater) and made redundant earlier this year.

148. Won money on a T.V. game show
I've never won money, full stop.

149. Broken a bone
While clumsy, I'm not that unfortunate.

150. Killed a human being
Had a go at it 3 times, but no.

151. Gone on an African photo safari
Again, would love to. My photos would probably come back with stickers all over them though.

152. Ridden a motorcycle
No, sadly. I've lived such a shelter life.

153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph
Not a good idea in a variety of ways.

154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
One, so far, but I had to take it out after an incident involving a belt and blood.

155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol

156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
Gak. No.

157. Ridden a horse
See motorcycle question.

158. Had major surgery
*touches wood*

159. Had sex on a moving train
No even on a stationary train.

160. Had a snake as a pet
I like snakes but am shit with pets.

161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
Sounds far too much like a huge exertion. I'll just stick to Google Earth for the time being.

162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
Can't sleep in public. The flights to LA and back were interminable, especially as I also had a 10 hour bus trip bookending them.

163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
I think I had the 'flu. Or the depression made me sleepy. Other times, I'll be awake for about 23 3/4 hours out of every 24. It's a fun condition to have.

164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
No.

165. Visited all 7 continents
Want to, but no.

166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
Could be fun, if a little damp.

167. Eaten kangaroo meat
Kangaroos eat people too. No, really.

168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
How often does that happen? Maybe I should go all the way to Machu Pichu, hunt out the burial site and just hang around until the first eligible bachelor turns up. And hope he's attractive, witty and not gay.

169. Been a sperm or egg donor
Nope, though I would consider it.

170. Eaten sushi
Yup, and sashimi too.

171. Had your picture in the newspaper
When I was at school.

172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime
Without dwelling on it (as I'm finding it a little horrifying) the first year with Ben was relatively healthy. I think the 400 miles played a major role in that.

173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
Couldn't honestly say. Maybe.

174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
I've wanted to though. But I'm too nice.

175. Gone back to school
And revisit the years of hell?

176. Parasailed

177. Changed your name
I'd consider it if proposed to.

178. Petted a cockroach
Ick.

179. Eaten fried green tomatoes.

180. Read The Iliad
The Aenaid, yes. I'll get round to it eventually.

181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read him/her.
There's a lot of authors I think are important, that schools don't teach. But both Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath come to mind. The Bell Jar is one of my all-time favourites. Oddly, Neil commented on my copy, saying that I was evidently crazy, yet seemed to be surprised when I actually was crazy. I don't take the pills for shits and giggles. Just giggles.

182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
I'd get caught in a heartbeat. And I don't eat out much.

183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
See above.

184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
I've learnt a few song on't bass, without any lessons.

185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
Yeuch.

186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
It wasn't years after, but I apologised for stealing Iain from his previous girlfriend. Who was my friend at the time. She forgave me immediately, as she knew all that had gone on.

187. Skipped all your school reunions (not on purpose)
There hasn't been any reunions (that I'm aware of) to skip. Though I would, I really don't care for pretty much everyone I went to school with.

188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
Closest has been them knowing a few words in English, me knowing a few words in French or German, and lots of hand gestures.

189. Been elected to public office
I intend to overthrow the world in a non-military coup.

190. Written your own computer language
Hahahahahahahahaha.

191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
When I've dined at a downstairs restaurant, then probably. Until then, no. Or had frantic, lusty sex with David Tennant. Or with my ex, on the living room floor at my Granny's.

192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
So far, been spared that.

193. Built your own PC from parts
It has been done for me, but not by me.

194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
I'd feel like I was thieving.

195. Had a booth at a street fair
See above. Though I had an idea to raise money for charity that would kind of involve that.

196: Dyed your hair
I haven't seen my natural colour since I was about 17.

197: Been a DJ
I bet I'd be good at it though. *cough*

198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
Very specific, no?

199: Written your own role playing game
I've made up a drinking game, that's as good as I get.

200: Been arrested
I'm a good girl, so probably won't be either.

I come off as gay, apparently. Maybe that's why I have such a lousy time trying to attract male attention?

And I really love Kylie's new song, 2 Hearts. So maybe I am gay, but only for men.

Remember I said I'd sorted out the Walkman? No? Well, I got a new battery from eBay (which I think I might have paid for twice; short and extremely dull story, moral of which is Feebs=dur sometimes) and opened up the back of the unit to replace it. Some how, in doing that, I managed to wiggle the connection that gives sound through the headphone jack. I eventually worked out how to fix that, but in doing so, managed to do something that's affected the USB connection. And, last night, in trying to fix that, I've somehow disconnected the screen. I almost literally had Evadnie in her component pieces last night, and somewhat distressingly, now have 2 small screws that I can't place, sitting in my bedroom. I can listen to music no problem. In that regard, I'm fine. I just can't add anything else and there's no way to search for a specific track or change playlist. I may have one last tinker, then it's off to the Sony service centre. Chances are, I may well know more than the Sony approved engineer now.

One thing's for sure though; if I hadn't remembered to take the citalopram again (which I have done for the past 3 days, go me) I'd've probably hurled it out my closed bedroom window at about 1am today. These pills are magic, truely they are. 'samazing.

01. Bought everyone in the pub a drink
Nope, always too poor. Alas, alack, etc.

02. Swam with wild dolphins
Not even tame ones.

03. Climbed a mountain
It's impossible to walk in a straight line in parts of Scotland and not climb a mountain. Add to that, growing up in a house where everyone had walking boots and you have yourself a teenage Munro-bagger.

04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
Hardly. They wouldn't let me out the dealership, even after I undid another button on my top. Something about not having a driver's license...

05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
Only in my mind..

06. Held a tarantula
Yep, right after I lept off the top of the Angel Falls, just for shits and giggles. Nuddy. And posted it on YouTube.

07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
Yes, and that's one of the reasons I want a bigger bath.

08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
Everytime, much to my lasting remorse.

09. Hugged a tree
They're remarkably huggable.

10. Done a striptease
Of sorts, but I'm a bit clumsy to really pull it off.

11. Bungee jumped
Yep, right into a bath full of tarantulas.

12. Visited Paris
No *sigh*, though I'd kind of like to.

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
No, but I'd love to.

14. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise
Well, you have to at least once or twice, don't you?

15. Seen the Northern Lights
No, but it tops my list of Things To Do Before I Die.

16. Gone to a huge sports game
Gone to a little sports game.

17. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
No, and they won't let you now because of the work they're doing to make it safe.

18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
No, because I'm a crap gardener.

19. Touched an iceberg
Nope, never been far enough north or south, or far enough out to sea and in a boat.

20. Slept under the stars
I think so...

21. Changed a baby's diaper
The first time, the baby peed all over me too.

22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
Would quite like to, actually.

23. Watched a meteor shower
Would also love to do that. I seem to like looking skyward.

24. Gotten drunk on champagne
The first glass gets me giggly, the second glass has me either under or on the table.

25. Given more than you can afford to charity
Mostly because I've never been in a position to.

26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
A long time ago, to see the nebula around one of the stars in Orion's sword. But for the most part I prefer to look at the night sky though my glasses.

27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
Though I can't recall any specific examples just now. Funerals tend to make me want to giggle, for some perverse reason.

28. Had a food fight
Again, I can't remember specifics, but I seem to recall having to wash foodstuffs out my hair...

29. Bet on a winning horse
I'm really not much of a gambler.

30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
Maybe once. Usually, I'll lie about the cause of my illness; food poisoning rather than a black pit of despair and misery.

31. Asked out a stranger
No. I get a poor enough reaction from people who aren't strangers.

32. Had a snowball fight
Though not for a while.

33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
No. Just... no.

34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
Nope. Never had reason to.

35. Held a lamb
No. I feel no strong desire to, either. Does that mean I'm cold and uncaring? Oh well.

36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
No, because half the fun of fantasies (for me) is that they are so unreal.

37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
Nope. I'm far too glow in the dark for that.

38. Taken an ice cold bath
No.

39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
Some time ago, at the bus station in Perth.

40. Seen a total eclipse
On telly, does that count? I live too far north otherwise. It just got a bit darker here.

41. Ridden a roller coaster
Yes, I love 'em.

42. Hit a home run
No. Don't do sports, and certainly not that well.

43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
Christmas in retail is that crazy.

44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
All the time, and even in public. While sober.

45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
No. I'm shit at accents for a start.

46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
Er? I'm not even sure where that might be.

47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
And I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to get back to that moment, even if time travel isn't possible. Hey, it's something to do.

48. Had two hard drives for your computer
Mostly because my hard drive, that I've been dragging around for years, is in modern terms, the size of a postage stamp and half as useful.

49. Visited all 50 states
No.

50. Loved your job for all accounts
I've only been there 5 days, so nothing's bad yet.

51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
Several times. Someone's got to do it, I suppose.

52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
Not yet...

53. Had amazing friends
I would say that all the friends I have now are pretty damned amazing. I'm extremely lucky in that regard.

54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
It was the school exchange, so nothing very racy at all.

55. Watched wild whales
*sigh*

56. Stolen a sign
Never been drunk enough, even as a student.

57. Backpacked in Europe
Nah, I can't pack light enough.

58. Taken a road-trip
Not really.

59. Rock climbing
And I really liked it too.

60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice
Nope. Though I did tell US Immigration that I had no desire to overthrow their government...

61. Midnight walk on the beach
Again, it'd be nice.

62. Sky diving
No.

63. Visited Ireland
Yup, 6 or 7 years ago.

64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
I've been heartbroken longer than I was in the relationship, but no.

65. In a restaurant, sat at a strangers table and had a meal with them
Ha, no. I have a thing about eating in public around people I don't know so well, so that's so unlikely to happen, I'll be coralling a bathtub's worth of tarantulas first.

66. Visited Japan
No, but I really want to.

67. Benchpressed your own weight
No, I have the upper-body strength of a crumpled tissue.

68. Milked a cow
Nope.

69. Alphabetized your CDs
Yup, though it didn't last. I'm too lazy to keep moving everything around to fit in the new ones.

70. Pretended to be a superhero
Every day. I rotate capes for freshness.

71. Sung karaoke
No, that would come after the bungeeing, tarantulas, meal with stangers, etc.

72. Lounged around in bed all day
And not soley because I was hiding under the duvet.

73. Posed nude in front of strangers
Nope, not got the body confidence.

74. Scuba diving
Nah.

75. Got it on to "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
It would remind me too much of Dr. Evil and Frau Farbissina, ergo destoy the mood.

76. Kissed in the rain
*dreamy sigh*

77. Played in the mud
Apparently it caused my Mum no end of grief that I would be all dressed up pretty then go and play in the mud and get all mucky.

78. Played in the rain
Live in Scotland. I would never have played if I hadn't.

79. Gone to a drive-in theater

80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it
So many things, and this post will be long enough as it is...

81. Visited the Great Wall of China

82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog

83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
It's not up to me. Though I've stopped using as much Microsoft stuf as is feasible. And SonicStage is a Windows-only app.

84. Started a business
Thought about it, but no.

85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
That happens? No, really, does it?

86. Toured ancient sites
Though I still really want to go to Scara Brae.

87. Taken a martial arts class
Noo.

88. Sword fought for the honor of a woman
Only my own, in a fencing class.

89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
Warcraft isn't quite the same.

90. Gotten married
Just as well really. Can't see it happening either.

91. Been in a movie
You'd know about it if I had been.

92. Crashed a party

93. Loved someone you shouldn't have
I'm not going to say anything.

94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
About 10 years ago, I was told that I "kiss like it's the last thing [I'll] ever do."

95. Gotten divorced
No, though if I had gotten married, I would hope that I would have divorced by now.

96. Had sex at the office
And, strangly, it's quite an unappealing notion.

97. Gone without food for 5 days
While very depressed.

98. Made cookies from scratch
Cakes, yes. Cookies, no.

99. Won first prize in a costume contest
Won 3rd once.

100. Ridden a gondola in Venice
Possibly in the future, who knows?

Dig Your Own Hole - the Chemical Brothers, Heaven or Las Vegas - Cocteau Twins, Long Live the Queens - Shakespear's Sister, Baby I Don't Care - Transivion Vamp, Introducing - Right Said Fred (I know, and I really don't care) and Good News For People Who Love Bad News - Modest Mouse = £20.

Did I mention that I love my shiny new job? Even if every other person asks for a Wii. Which we have none of. And, as I'm not clairvoyant, no I don't know when they'll be in. The Wii Man came in earlier; they're trying to arrange a third delivery to the UK before Christmas. One can only hope the boats are big. Anyway, it doesn't bother me too much; I'm after a black DS, and we're (currently) fine for them.

I finally had the KFC I've been hankering after for weeks and weeks. That Wrap Star thing? Not so good as it could be. Oh well, you live, you learn. As a general rule, KFC staff really piss all over the notion of fast food; in East Kilbride, I think they're in the Slow Food Movement resistance.

Managed to fix the Walkman. It turned out to be a loose connection I hadn't noticed. I'll need to go back into it at some point, I've managed to stop the volume slider work, but I know what I'm doing there and how to fix it. And what to check to make sure I don't lose the sound again.

I've had Final Straw by Snow Patrol in my head since posting last night, which is annoying. I like Snow Patrol, but not that much.

So, yeah. It occurs to me that I can't remember taking the citalopram at any time since about Thursday last week. Which might explain the bottom dropping out of everything yesterday. The issues that broke the surface as still there, don't misunderstand that, but now is neither the time nor the place to try to tackle them. I'm not in an environment where I feel safe enough to do so, and I'm not sure that these things are things I can deal with alone. The unrequited love thing, that's something I'll have to deal with alone. The rest of it though, might require professional guidance. It probably will. Almost certainly. But not while I'm here, at 'home'.

But, to finish on a positive note. I didn't cut yesterday. I wanted to, I really wanted to. But sometimes, I find the depression so crippling that moving 6 inches to pick something up is completely beyond me.

It is positive. Trust me.

The sound is fucked on the Walkman. It was fine last night; today when I went to listen to it, about half the range is missing. The new battery will likely last a very long time, unless I can work out how to fix it.

There's so much I wish I could say, but I can't find the words. Even if I could, I'd feel like I was just seeking sympathy anyway.

I'm so tired of everything being such a struggle.

Alan is home again. Hasn't been back 3 hours (and I've been home for just over an hour) and already they're making me the butt of the jokes. That are so hysterically funny.

As I mentioned last week, last night's training session was about suicide and self-harm. Because of work and the trains just being evil whenever I'm already running tight for time, I missed the first half. I got all the handouts, and was reading over them last night, after I'd gone to bed. I missed the questionnaire about myths and values relating to self harm (a bunch of statements; are they true or false?) and the paragraph relating to "Everyone who self harms has been sexually abused" makes me want to cry, even though I know I can't.

"A person who self harms is likely to have gone through very difficult and painful experiences as a child or young adult. At that time they probably felt they had no one to confide in or share their worries with. They probably did not receive the care and nurturing they required to alleviate their emotional distress. Their experiences may have included sexual abuse but not always. Other issues my be emotional or physical abuse. They may have been separated from loved ones, been bullied, harassed, assaulted, isolated, put under intolerable pressure, experienced hospitalisation, or a care situation or other institutions. These experiences erode confidence and self esteem and create feelings of being powerless and out of control. If a significant other has betrayed or abused a child, they will often blame themselves. The anger they feel can be directed towards them and by the time they reach adulthood, their self harming behaviour may become entrenched and a way of punishing themselves, a way of expressing difficult emotions and a way to distract themselves from or keep memories at bay."

(taken from a handout created by SAY Women)

I cut about 2 weeks ago, the night that Ben sent that 'accidental' text. I'm not proud of it, but I was so angry with him, with me, for a thousand different reasons. I could have killed him, if he'd been there infront of me.

All I want is for someone to hug me and tell me that they'll always be on my 'side'. I've never, ever had that.

So, BOOBIES!!!!!


Sorry, couldn't resist.



New job: good. Male collegues: gay. (Except for the two that aren't; they have girlfriends) Everyone: really nice. Feet: aching. (Silly me wore my New Rocks) Contact lenses: behaved surprisingly well. I think I'm going to like it there.

So, yeah. I wore my big boots. People call them shit-kickers, though I've yet to back that up with any empirical evidence. There's no running up stairs in them though. And I've noticed that there's a distinct lag in acceleration in them, but once I'm up to speed there's very little that will stop me. And the stopping distance is a bit greater. I do so love my boots, even if they do do funny things to the tendons in my knees. And, towards the end of the day (meaning, after Rape Crisis), the inside at the heels did start to feel a little cheese gratery. Tomorrow will be a Converse day, I think.

Mum was at reiki this evening, so offered to pick me up from a different station. Electric trains are odd when you're not used to them. That said, they seem to run to time better. I have no idea where in Glasgow it was, but I happened to glance up and out the window to see a Christmas tree in a bay window. It wasn't dressed, but surely it's a bit early for that? On the other hand, there was a crane in the distance, further on, that was decorated with red and green lights. But then, I'm a sucker for twinkly lights. The tree beside the bridge by the station on the riverbank had me transfixed on the way past. It's so pretty. It would be a happy thought, except for the recollection of the last time I was there.

And on that note, lenses out, make up off, and under the duvet.

I recently had cause to cast my mind back over past relationships. I'll freely admit, I wish I was in a relationship now, because I feel extremely lonely and not just a bit defective. I know one person who's single just now, mentally running through my phone book.

But not just any old relationship, either. I want to find someone who actually likes me. Every guy I've been with has treated me like an overly elaborate cock-warmer. They have, collectively, shown very little interest in my feelings and opinions, preferring to get my clothes off, on to the nearest convenient flat surface and in to me as soon as they possibly can. Whether I want to or not. Which leads me to wonder, is it something about me? Do I give out signals that I'm basically just a blow-up doll with a pulse?

And then I wonder, are there men out there anywhere who actually like women? Rationally, I know there must be, the same way that there must be aliens.

Question is, will I need a massive radio telescope to find a man who likes to spend time with me, fully clothed, without wanting to get me naked the entire time?

I'm starting to sincerely doubt it. I really have had enough of the whole thing.

It's funny how things can pretty much shut down when you're in emergency-coping-mode. I'm thinking from minute-to-minute, as far as the next 10 minutes. Usually, I'd be planning tomorrow's outfit, what I have to do over the course of the week, possibly even next weekend (big gay night out; got to look fab for my fag)

But, instead, I'm not even thinking about much beyond 2pm. It doesn't exist for me, yet.

Today has been a very strange one. Mostly good, but still strange. Everything was going ok until we split into groups to do practise support sessions. We had previously found it easier to talk about things from our lives than scenarios that we could only imagine, and as I'd already mentioned the funny relationship I have with Mum to Ann, I decided to speak about that. Not five minutes in, I started crying. I think it was the sheer relief at finally getting these feelings out, and having someone listen to me without their own things involved. The biggest barrier I have with Mum is that everything (and I really mean EVERYTHING) turns into being about her. She has to cope with my depression. She couldn't believe I'd got my tongue pierced after all I'd put her through with the orthodontics. When I have any kind of problem, she always asks "What do [I] expect [her] to do about it?" And, just to be clear, the tone of voice implies that neither can she, nor does she want to, do anything about it. Then, there's her response to the first phone call after Iain hit me for the first time. I can't recall what she said to me, I was very upset. Lesley took the phone from me, and spoke to Mum while she tried to comfort me, to let her know I was safe. The first thing she asked Lesley was "What did she do?"

And the bit that's really wearing me down? She will quite happily sound off to me about work, Dad, me, anything that's stressing her out and pissing her off. Yes, I meant to include myself there. The absolute best, shining example of this was the night that she told me (when I was 17) that she was going to divorce my Dad. "Sometimes, I feel like taking a big handful of pills and forgetting about it all." And what do you think I came home from school to, the next day? Dad, sitting in his armchair, breaking down as he told me that he'd come home earlier than expected (Mum had been behaving oddly that morning) and had had to break the bathroom door lock. If I wasn't mis-wired, I think all that would have been hard enough to cope with.

I could go on and on with other examples, but I really don't want to. Despite what you may think from the above, I love my Mum dearly, and she does have good points. Life with her is mostly ok. But I really, really need to get away from here.


Anyway. Like I said at the start, today has been a good day. I had to phone La Senza to say that I wouldn't be in on Monday, or indeed any day after that. Of course, I didn't put it exactly like that. I think I said that I'd been offered a full-time job at Virgin and was going to accept it, sorry to cause them hassle, but it all comes down to money. I'd've preferred to do it face-to-face, but I was in Glasgow and figured that the more time they had to rearrange shifts and rotas, the better. I'm not totally heartless.

But woohoo! I got the job!

Pilf, don't read this. It will just upset you, and depress you and quite probably make you feel sick.

People like cheese. 'tis official, my poll said so. The people hath spake, etc.

After a week's deliberation, I've made the CD for Erin; it contains a bunch of songs I think everyone should like, or at least hear a few times.

Chris phoned; he's working very hard, but still managed to meet someone. They got to talking on a bus, swapped numbers and so on. Is it a gay thing? A guy thing? A gay guy thing? I've never swapped number with someone I randomly saw anywhere. Admittedly, I usually listen to music on public transport, so David Tennant could be making doe eyes at me across the crowded train and I'd be blissfully unaware and probably daydreaming about being a rock star.

I missed Never Mind The Buzzcocks last night. Bah and buggeration. But there's something on Channel 4 on Monday, presented by Mark Thomas, who I love. Ever since I saw a show of his in which he said that anti-abortionists disprove their point. Anyway, I won't be missing that.

Except I'll be at Rape Crisis training. Anyone got a video they can work?

My body is being unruly. I made use of my staff discount and bought new underwear earlier. 34F. If I tried to go swimming any time soon, I'd only be able to do a back crawl, put it that way. More annoyingly, my period stopped a couple of days ago and seems to have started again.

On the upside, my hair is behaving itself very well these days, partly because of the American Cream conditioner, most likely.

The other Orgy CD arrived and I found a couple in Oxfam that I liked the look of, so purchased. I've been remarkably restrained in my spending today. I only bought the undies because I wasn't sure if I'd still have that discount next week.

Anyway. I promised to make Erin a CD, so I'd better actually do that.

When Kerosene (rock club in Dundee) still had poles in the dancefloor, I danced to two of these covertastic... covers (and got a round of applause for my efforts). Can you guess which two I kept all my clothes on and shook my booty to? (yeah, it's not difficult. That's why there's no prizes.)

I don't mean 'to the exclusion of everything else'




It's a shit video, but it's the best I could get for this song.

Seeing as I've just recently realised how to post many clips at once, have a pile of VAST videos. They're very good. Play all together to fall over with blood dripping slowly out your ear.




The only rock video in which waders are worn, I'm sure.

On Saturday, I could have quite the dilemma.

I had my interview for Zavvi (Virgin) this afternoon, and if successful, would start Monday. The manager at La Senza is off tomorrow, then back Saturday. I don't work weekends there. If I get the job, it's full-time. I'm currently working part-time. If I get the job, I can't get to Rape Crisis training on Saturdays, but there's only 2 Saturdays left. I'm not even going to think about the other implications of that just now, I could do without having a breakdown right now. Both jobs would run until the beginning of next year. I don't know what would happen after that, but I'm pretty great in shops so would hopefully be invited to stay on. I would rather work in Zavvi, to be honest, not that I don't like La Senza. I'd feel awful to have to ring Anna and stay that I wouldn't be back. Assuming it comes to that. And I could be wildly wrong, but I have a fairly good feeling about the nature of the call I'll get on Saturday.

So it's not that much of a dilemma then, is it? I know exactly what I'll do. If I get offered the job.

So, David Cameron made some speech about rape convictions and the disgustingly low rates thereof. He refers to England and Wales only, but Scotland isn't hugely different. I never have been a Tory, never will be (even if I do have odd dreams about Boris Johnson) but I'll admit that the points he made are valid, and hey, any awareness raised is good. Of course, being a politician, it's as likely to just be tactical talk, to win over the female vote. If the Conservatives actually won an election, the conviction rates would probably stay the same, the reporting rates would stay low, the attrition (cases that fall out of the legal system for whatever reason) rates equally saddening.

Following a link via a Facebook group (Daily Mail Hating Feminazis From Hell) I read this. And now need a new keyboard and right hand. And, by the feel of things, a new stomach lining might be quite useful shortly, too. Not so much the article, because the Male loves the Tories, and it's pretty much quotes and 'he said, she said' reporting. It's the comments. I can't quite express my utter disbelief and shock and disgust at the attitudes on display here. Internet anonimity can be amazing. One rather random one is that prisons are '5* hotels' which confused me somewhat. I could be quite wrong, but I thought that convicted rapists went to reaonsably high security prisons which are know for overcrowding and general basicness. Not exactly temperature controlled, mints on the pillow. That said, this is the readership of the Daily Male, so anyway.

"Great. Let's have hearsay evidence for everything. Soon we'll be burning witches and seeing whether they float or not!"

- John Kimble, Portsmouth

Which works as an arguement when you consider the sucess of making a complaint of rape in, say Pakistan. Where, under Sharia law, the word of 4 men of standing is required, or it's considered adultery. Yes, proving or disproving rape is difficult, because most rapists aren't going to commit their crime where there's witnesses. It does often come down to one word agains the other. Especially where the big thing is consent. So yes. It's based on hearsay evidence. But very few women lie on the witness stand. Or, indeed, anywhere you like along the whole process. Which brings me neatly to the bit where I have to keep an eye on my blood pressure.

"What will a Cameron govenment do to help men who have been wrongly convicted of rape?"

- Neil Robinson, Durham

"Erm... maybe the rates are low because the evidence isn't good enough?"

- Mick B, Essex

"Convictions need to be based on EVIDENCE not 'political correctness'. Is he suggesting that our courts are incapable of convicting people based on evidence alone and wants to presume guilt in such cases instead? If the evidence doesn't support a conviction, the suspect should go free. We've already recently seen several examples of malicious claims of rape that were pure fantasies. God preserve us from people being convicted on an allegation alone!

This Cameron IDIOT just get loonier and more unelectable by the minute."

- Graham, St Albans, Herts

"Cameron presupposes women are telling the truth by naming accusers 'victims'.

How about looking at punishing false accusers of 'rape', instead of appealing to female voters in the shameful way this Cameron 'politician' does?

Appalling."

- Samuel, Oldham, England

"One reason for a jury being reluctant to convict an alleged rapist is because of the number of accusations of rape which turn out to be clearly false.

Clamping down on the women that make these false claims will leave a better quality of case for genuine victims and secure more convictions of rapists - which surely is what we all want?

This won't happen of course. This topic is for a speech David Cameron is giving to the Conservative Women's Organisation and appears to me to be designed to tell the audience what they want to hear and thereby help secure the female vote."

- Ian Bitter, Salisbury, Wilts

"Way to go, Dave. So any "lady" that wakes up with a hangover and a bad case of buyer's remorse has been given carte blanche to scream "rape". Pretty soon (like tomorrow) English gentlemen (generic) will conclude an active relationship with any woman in UK is a risk too far. Namely, slammer time beckons.

Can't wait."

- Andrew Milner, Yokohama, Japan

"What happened to "better 10 guilty men go free than one innocent be convicted"? Nothing said about sick or vindictive women who ruin honest mens' lives. The statement is pure emoitional rethoric to buy votes. Grannies and grand children are unsafe so long as there is a vote to be bought. Politicians still wonder why they are the least trusted people on earth?"

- Geoff Morgan, Falkirk Scotland

"This is just PC grovelling for the votes of women.

Cameron should understand and respect the basic facts that an allegation of rape is not necessarily rape, and that men acccused of rape have a right to justice.

It is not a question of men treating women as sex objects. Increasingly, the problem is that women are themselves behaving like sex objects and sexual predators."

- Chris, Wokingham England

"Just beacause someone's accused of rape doesn't automatically mean they did it for heaven's sake!"

- Adam, Sheffield

"I wonder how many of the 75% 'rape' victims that not tell the police were really the victims of rape in the legal sense of the word? Rape is a truly hideous crime, but so is accusing a man, putting him through a trial whilst his name is public and the accuser's remains secret, only to discover that the rape was either a figment of her imagination or consensual sex that she later regretted. Mr Cameron would be wrong to interfere with the course of justice to obtain a conviction rate that he thinks is acceptable."

- Margaret Jones, Worcester,UK

"In the legal sense of the word"? Meaning penetration of the vagina, by a penis, without consent? I would guess that of the 75% of survivors who don't engage with the police, the rate there would be 100%. Maybe 98%. I don't quite get why one would make a false report (though there may be reasons I've not thought of) but to make up an unreported allegation? WHY??

"Perhaps the conviction rate reflects the high number of false accusations and the courts are doing their job well."

- David Fahn, London England

"There are so few rape convictions because it is so difficult to prove. It's normally a man's word against a woman's word and sometimes it's just not safe to convict on such little evidence. There's also the point that many of these trials have proved that women are more than willing to let an innocent man rot in jail. If the length of the sentence for rape was applied to the women who lied about being raped, I think it would be far easier to gain proper convictions for women who were actually raped."

- Mike P, Ottery St. Mary, UK

"The fact that convictions for rape are higher on the continent may be due to the fact that women don't dress up like common prostitues and drink themselves into oblivion. They have more respect for themselves. If a woman was in fall control of her faculties, then the prospect of sleeping with a total stranger would be less likely to happen. Therefore, if you start treating yourself with respect you will be treated with respect in return."

- Alan, Frankfurt, Germany

I can respect myself completely (and do) in whatever clothes I like, drinking which ever beverage I chose. If a man choses to rape me, that is his choice, and his alone.

"As a woman, I could destroy a man's life and reputation with a false allegation of rape. Women wield this power over men and it is sickening to see a so called 'public servant' exploiting this.

I have four sons, and I dread to think what they will go through should they be falsely accused, especially with today's trend of women who regret sex, and confuse it with rape. Plus those who are vindictive and use rape as a means of blackmail or revenge.

It must be a terrible time to be a man in 21st century Britain."

- Wendy, Leeds, England

What power. She must feel all giddy with the heady rush, knowing that she could make a false report. How powerful she would feel, giving her witness statement to police officers who may imply they don't believe her (though to be fair to the police, they are getting training and improving, I think) and then wait to see if the case would go to trial (in Scotland that can only happen if there is sufficient corroborative evidence, not such a requirement in England) and if it did, the power of being under examination and cross-examination in court? She laments the future for her sons, she'd be better to raise them to understand that women are people too, that no means no. Under any and all circumstances. Unless they get into BDSM, then they might have a 'safe' word to act as 'no', then that means no.

While this isn't all the comments made (35 total at time of writing), it's fairly indicative of the prevalent attitudes; women lie. A huge proportion of rape complaints made to the police are made up by women who are bitter, scorned, wanting to 'get even'.

Bullshit, that's fucking bollocks and we all know it. Everytime someone looks at the statistics, false allegations make up 2% of the total, just like for other types of crime. Let's say a woman is raped and she decides in the immediate aftermath, she wants to go to the police. She has to call 999, and tell the despatcher that she's been raped. She has to give a statement to the police, she has to be forensically examined by whichever police surgeon is available. If she's been injured in the attack, she has to go to A&E as well. She has to arrange emergency contraception and will probably get prophylactic antibiotics too. She may have to go home, where she was attacked, if she has nowhere else to go. And this is just the first 24 hours, not even taking into account the months that can pass before a final trial date. Do you see where I'm going with this? Things are not easy for the survivor who wants to go to the police. The biggest thing for many, many women is that they won't be believed.

So why the hell would someone put themselves through any of that, for shits and giggles?

And all this bollocks about a woman giving consent while drunk then changing her mind later. The changes to the understanding of consent doesn't mean that. It's like saying repealling Section 28 would have teachers "promoting homosexuality", when really it was just about promoting understanding and acceptance of homosexuality. Hopefully, a clearer legal definition of informed consent will diseminate through society and help men to understand that taking advantage isn't acceptable, and if he's in any doubt he should just wait until he's sure. Perhaps even taking responsibility for his actions.

If you ever click on the links I so kindly provide, you may recall I linked to a story in the news about a homophobic killing in Perth. Sentence was passed on Monday.

This story gets me a bit riled. Because, as we all know, women are soley on this planet to reproduce. To a woman, we are all just baby-making machines. And if we can push out a few more bright boys, then isn't that just fantastic? I somehow doubt that the legions of fans of Nigella are all hot under the collar because she graduated from Oxford. Never mind that she's reinforcing the stereotype that women should be in the kitchen, which doesn't strictly require any kind of academic qualification. I'm going to go find a photo of her and stamp on it a bit.

This song, I keep hearing at work, is giving me headaches and making my eye twitch. I'd actually prefer to listen to Christmas songs than this. Not only is it mindless pop drivel, it's really fucking mindless. Honestly, look at the lyrics. I've copied them from some random site, and I daren't even fix the grammar, lest my brain melts.

I'm guna make you feel like youre heaven on earth
im guna thank your mother just for giving you birth
im guna wana hold you in my arms when you cry
if that's okay with you
if that's okay with you

This is the chorus, so forms about 85% of the actual song. But how does one feel like heaven on earth? Something can be like heaven on earth, someone can feel heavenly. But feeling heaven? Much like giving someone birth, it's a concept that makes you think, 'Oh, ok.... Hang on....' Don't try to work out how it would work, I tried and got a stabbing pain in my right eye.

And the best bit of the song? The ridiculous chipmunk in the background repeating 'if that's ok with you.' It makes me want to get a bottle brush and clean out my brain. Or get a gun and put Shayne Ward et al. out of their collective misery.

You know the most annoying thing about the way in which things ended in the last relationship I was in? The uncertainty. We weren't together anything like long enough for reality to set in. So I still wonder what could've happened, and I only have blissful happiness to go on. I never had the chance to find out any of his annoying habits or to sit and look at him and wonder what it was that I ever saw in him in the first place.

I still get that giddy feeling when I think about the time that we did spend together. I just feel nauseous when I think about the last time I saw Ben, for contrast.

I haven't the first idea how he (not Ben) feels about me. I don't even know if he likes me as a person, let alone anything else. He gave me a CD while we were seeing each other. I wish I was being self-effacing, but it took me about 2 months after we split up to realise that maybe there was a reason that he chose Maps by The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, other than it was a pretty song. I'm usually reasonably good at knowing how people feel about me, but in this one case, I seem to have a gaping blind-spot.

To be honest, I'm not sure I'll ever really know how he feels or what he thinks, as I doubt he'd ever make a direct statement to that effect. But it would be nice to have an opportunity to find that maybe he can do wrong and that the reality would probably be quite different to what occurs between my ears.

Seeing as I've just gotten an extra hour before I have to go out to get to work, here's something from the 'things-I-was-thinking-about-writing-about-but-got-distracted-by-
shoes/glitter/something to rant about' list. Also, I have had no other interesting thoughts since logging last night. I don't really feel like going into any detail about the dream I remember, suffice to say that it involved my Rabbit.

New Year's Resolutions. At Samhain, I posted a meme that was based around the change of the calendar year, and one of the questions was about resolutions. The only one I could remember making was about learning to drive, which I haven't done. A while after that, I looked back at posts from the beginning of January, and found that I had made a few more.

"This year... I will learn to drive. It's about bloody time! Improve my computer so I don't have to wonder if I'll fit the cd's I bought into the hard drive. Try and flatten my tummy a bit. It jiggles so when I move. Wear my contact lenses more often. Learn to walk in heels and get past the pain barrier. Start the process of getting money back from the bank. Blog more regularly. Work out what it is that I really want to do with my life. Find a job. Buy many pairs of fabulous shoes."

So. I no longer even have the computer I used at the beginning of the year as it belonged to Ben. I'm now using Dad's computer, and it had something like 60gig free, which I'm quietly filling while I hope he doesn't notice. Once I'm back at work full-time, in a permanent position, a shiny new PC of my own is first on the list, even before moving out.
My tummy does still jiggle, but I've lost weight over the last few months. I've dropped at least one dress size around my middle. Still crap with putting in the contacts. And high heels.
I never did get to claiming back the unfair charges. Once I'd opened my new account and stuff, moves were afoot to stop the claims process so I missed that boat. HBOS shareholders, enjoy your champagne. I went without food for that.
Definitely blogging more regularly. My peak this far was October, with about 134 posts. Not all were me drivelling on about myself; a lot were clips from YouTube and memes.
Still don't know what exactly I want to do with my life, though I do have a better idea than I did 11 months ago. If you're interested, I want to get more involved with advocacy; encompassing education and awareness, and also support work. Away from the career bit, I want to find someone who I'm mad about who I can try to be with for a very long time, who I can start to think about the future long-term with. Yes, it covers babies. No, it's not going well.
Found a job. Still looking for another.
The fabulous shoes is on-going.

And last thing before bed; another Threadless t-shirt that I have to have. Possibly 7 of it, so I can wear it every day, given how apt it is.

It came from Shakesville...

After getting home at 10pm yesterday, it took me a good 2 1/2 hours to wind down enough to sleep. I'm still not used to getting up in the morning, so was still a bit asleep when I got to work. And a touch on the bus home. When I got home, I changed and went to have a lie down to warm up, and listened to the end of a story on Radio 4 about Vishnu and Shiva that was quite good. Next thing I remember is Down The Line.

Looking at my training programme, the session on suicide and self-harm is next Monday. Just to warn you.

---

On the bus home, I saw a lorry going in the other direction. It had been named God Speed II, in the way that some lorry drivers do. (It was painted in a delightful cursive across the front of the cab, I don't just psychically divine the names given to inanimate objects) It made me think of Eddie Izzard; "'Godspeed!'... 'Which god?'", then immediately wondered what happened to God Speed I. Or, God Speed. Perhaps god speed is like warp 10 (simultaneously occupying all points in the universe at once) which I would imagine would play havoc with the starter engine. Fabulous for making your brain pop, not so good to deliver packages to Hamilton. Overkill. Or it could be that God Speed I is still out there somewhere, as god moves in mysterious ways. Again, not so useful for keeping to a tight delivery schedule. Or, god speed is really, really fast, and God Speed I was written off involving a bitch of a reverse park and a tree.

Imagine the things I could do if I applied myself to something, anything of value and purpose.

This is not for real, please tell me, this is not for real...

Why are gaming companies so backward? Someone, please enlighten me.

And tangentally related: while waiting for my train, I discovered yet another reason to despair of Sky News. They have one of those display screen things that flash headlines between adverts (and the 'Entertainment' section is preface by a pink, sparkly screen which drives me a little closer to homicidal rage everytime I see it). For fair reasons, this story was included in the main news. The thing that caught my attention (as I hardly rely on Sky News and their tabloidy spin for information) was that they specifically described the convicted man as a 'comic book dealer'. Is that the new tabloid shorthand for child molester? Would they have reported his occupation if he was ooh, say a window-cleaner? A bank manager? A supermarket cashier? It's nice to see that justice can sometimes be got, even after 30 years, but what has his interest in comics got to do with anything? If it was porn, then it might be relevant. And when did Sky News turn into the Sun?


Edit: here's a direct link. Apparently, they've turned into a grotesque mix of the Sun and the Daily Male...

if you've Googled the post title, but don't know the song; Screamager by Therapy?

Today, the Walkman decided to mostly play me We're In This Together - Nine Inch Nails and Constipated - Weird Al. No idea why. I also need to perform open transplant surgery on my baby; she needs a new battery. And it's been almost 2 years since she came into my life and changed virtually everything, and I've finally, finally given her a name.

So, ladles and jellyspoons (sorry, couldn't resist) I give you Evadnie. (If I was more organised, I'd have a nice photo of her playing Turn My Way about here)

Yeah. The love of my life; the product of my love affair with music. She's caused me a few sleepless nights, turned a few hairs grey, frustrated me beyond all reason at times, but I wouldn't change a minute of it. All she needs to do is shuffle unexpectedly to a song that makes me smile and all is forgiven. And coughing up £200 was almost as painful as I'd imagine an episiotomy to be.

---

Today was the visit to the High Court in Glasgow. We were given the same tour as witnesses are given (as women who get to court in a rape case are witnesses, the Crown is acting for the public good, not hers) so were shown a courtroom, the witness room and the room with the CCTV link. The witness stand and the dock are remarkably close together. Even with a screen in place, I'd feel uncomfortable to know the man who attacked me was just over the other side. As time goes on, and I learn more about the whole legal shebang, I get more and more respect for women who go through with it. Not that I don't also respect women who choose not to, and get on with their lives in their own way. I guess I always assume that, if I ever was raped, I would report it to the police and go as far as I could in seeking justice. That said, I always assumed that, if a partner ever hit me, I'd be straight out the door and never be back.

Other stuff from the day; finally got to the 13th Note. I knew I'd like it, now I'm sure I'll be back. Good food too. I should also just give up trying to walk along Argyle St. This time, way less people, but far more water. I was actually squishing with every step by the time I got to the station. The skin on my toes was all wrinkly, not to mention cold.

There was a cute boy on the train. Though, the more I think about it, the more I feel a little grubby. He must've been no older than about 20. In my experience, guys that much younger than me tend to be too immature. I know not all younger guys are like that, but they are unfortunately the exception.

I keep thinking about kissing the last person I kissed, if that's not too convoluted. When I do, I get a strange sensation in my belly, like it's turning to lava. I really have to start some aversion therapy or something, thinking like that won't make any friends.

If I was suseptible to peer-group-pressure, I'd be changing my layout and background. If I wasn't too lazy to do it, too. So I'm sticking with my black-with-purple-highlights.

Gods, I want a margerita. With salt around the rim and everything. The best one I can recall (only fuzzily, mind) was at a Mexican restaurant on Cockburn (pronounced Co-burn. Can't think why...) Street in Edinburgh. But there's a branch of Pancho Villa's right next to the Centre that I pass at least 4 times a week, and ever since having a conversation about Mexican food and margeritas about 2 weeks ago, it's even surpassing my niggling craving for KFC. Yes, I'd even eat in public, with people watching me and everything, if I could be assured (and partaking of) a good margerita.

I'm trying to make a mix CD for one of the other training volunteers, haven't a clue what to put on it. The last time I made a mix CD, just of stuff I think is essential to a better life, it turned into 2 CDs. And that was a few months ago. I'm sure I could've kept churning them out monthly, with only a few repeats.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Nope. I gather my parents hadn't even picked a name and a passing neo-natal nurse suggested that which I have now. Feebs, though, comes from Phoebe in Neighbours and Friends. I'm a bit ditzy and random, apparently.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
A week ago, in the midst of PMS hell.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes, unless my hand is fatigued. Then it just looks scruffy. It's very loopy, unsurprisingly.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Meh. Prefer coffee or Jack Daniel's. No chewing required.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
No.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yep. I'm great. And I'd totally get my own sense of humour.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
Never.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Yes. Though there's these things called crypts all over them and I get these lumps in them from time to time. The lumps are evil.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Doubtful.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Cinnamon Toast Crunch, or whatever they call it now. Cinnamon Graham's? Or posh museli.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Depends on the shoes.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
I guess. I can lift and carry 20kg of soap.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Oatmeal Cookie Crunch. Or Cookie Dough. Or peanut butter and chocolate.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Shoes, face.

15. RED OR PINK?
Pink, just now.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
Where to begin... My lack of self-control at times.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
Steve.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO LINK THIS BACK TO YOU?
I wouldn't even know how that works.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS (Or Kilt) AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Black jeans, pink bootie slippers with white polka dots. They don't fall off my feet so easily.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
Brussells sprouts. I'm one of 3 people in the world who love them.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Wide Open Space - Mansun

22. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Royal Purple. Not too pink, not quite indigo. Cadbury's purple.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Neroli, bergamot, Icon fragrance, Chanel No. 5

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Dad, apparently.

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO LINKED THIS TO YOU?
I swiped if from a random blog after doing a google search. She likes Star Trek, so is potentially cool.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Rugby is the only sport I've ever seen properly. 'Sgood though.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Schwartzkopf Bitter Dark Chocolate or something.

28. EYE COLOR?
Mid brown. Hazel?

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
Sometimes, when I can be bothered with the faffing around to get them in, then giving everyone the glad-eye.

30. FAVORITE FOOD(S)?
I don't have any specific favourites. I do like food, but it's not something I'm hugely bothered about. And I'm squinky about eating in public sometimes.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy endings are a given in movies, I'd prefer them in reality. The only 'scary' movie I like is Idle Hands.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
I'm hopeless at going to the cinema. Wanted to see Run, Fatboy, Run, but missed it. I'm even worse at watching movies at home.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Black, with a bleached-out angel on it. It's a Fender t-shirt.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Meh.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
From the right person, lots of both. Otherwise, hugs are fine, thanks.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
Ice cream.

37. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Sorting Out Billy - Jo Brand, The Hitchicker's Guide To The Galaxy - Douglas Adams

38. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
It's Dad's mousepad; a photo of my Mum.

39. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Glasgow.

40. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
Anyone's!

Coincidence? I happened to see someone I used to know in East Kilbride on Friday. This person is half of a couple that's friends with the ever-delightful Ben. On checking StatCounter, I discovered that I had a vistor this afternoon, hailing from the same area in which they live, so far as I'm aware. Apparently, they're very interested in what I have to say, especially regarding relationships and the like.

Should you come visiting again; yes, I'm single. What of it? Better that and a future of a cat-lady, than being stuck in Cumbernauld with a rapist.

Yeah, I can't stop anyone looking at my blog, but ask yourself this (and seeing as you're already so self-absorbed, it won't be hard) why are you looking? Why do I matter so much to you?

Last night's memorable dream in full technicolour starred myself. If there was other people about, I don't recall, as I was transfixed by the size of my breasts. My dream must've been set in the near future, as I was wearing the turquoise bra that's on sale at work, but I haven't bought it yet. I was wearing the right size, but was spilling out of it. And getting bigger over the course of the dream. I also had nipples you could hang towels on. What's all that about??

As I'm ploughing through Sorting Out Billy, Jo Brand's first novel, I think I may go meme-hunting. I'm finding it a little tough-going, not because it's bad (quite the opposite, infact) or even because it involved a woman in a domestic violence situation that reminds me so much of what happened 5 years ago with Iain. No, it's far worse. One of the protagonists, Martha, has just had her baby and I'm getting inordinately broody. And thinking like that has the sole effect of making me sad. My chances of finding someone with whom I could share a mutual desire for a family are exceedingly slim. Romantic encounters with the opposite sex follow one of three options; 1. I like him but he doesn't like me. 2. He likes me but I don't like him. 3. We both like each other, but then he turns out to have something pathologically wrong with him. Seriously, out of the 2 fiancés I've had, which would you have chosen to have children with? The physically and mentally abusive one, or the lying, cheating scumbag?

See why I'd rather quit while I was behind? That's why it's dangerous for me to get broody.

Typical. I went to Missing (the pokey wee 2nd hand music/DVD shop under the Heilan' Man's Umbrella) and found no copies of Music For People. On the other hand, I did find and purchase We Are Pilots - Shiny Toy Guns, Legacy - The Best Of Mansun and The Battle Of Los Angeles - Rage Against The Machine. And I will be going back to hopefully get the best of the Ramones and some random CD by a band called Chopper Chix. I think it might be a female 3-piece who can barely hold a guitar, let alone know a chord between them, but that still doesn't mean it'd be bad. I'm rather hoping they'll be woman-with-a-message, rather than women-with-a-male-approved-message. And there was a copy of TheFutureEmbrace, which I'm mightily tempted by, as I only have a copy that was burnt on to a CD-R. And, hey, the father of my babies* has no top on, on the cover.

On the way to missing, my fabulously cheap Irregular Choice black creepers demonstrated how much of a health risk they could be. Basically, on any wet surface, they become very slippery. Every other step along Argyle Street was one of those ones where your foot kicks up behind you and you risk losing your balance. It could have been an issue, if people on Argyle Street on a Saturday afternoon actually moved perceptibly. If you had a time-lapse camera set up, I swear the majority of people captured in a 24 hour period would just about manage across the road from TopShop to Primark. And they would not be moving in that jerky, speeded up way, nooo. In future, I think I'll take the slightly longer route to Missing from the Centre, fewer people will have knives in their heads instead of their Christmas shopping (though after I run out of knives, I'll be more than able to start jamming carrier bags into skulls instead, I'm sure). (Mental note: ensure I have a full set of steak knives before attempting Argyle St. / Buchanan St. on a Saturday afternoon for the rest of the year. Also, extend to Sauchiehall St.)

So, yeah. When not fantasising about killing slow-moving people, I'm quite the altruistic philanthropist. (Is that the right word? On checking Wikipedia, that font of correctness, it is.) Today's training session was focused on BME (black, ethnic, minority) women and issues surrounding asylum seekers. The woman who came from the Shakti project, Giri, I was starting to get a girl-crush on. She spoke so passionately and honestly about her work and what the project does, that I want to find some way to help there too. And she has gorgeous hair, black and all tumbly curls. Anyway. She told some stories of what it was like for her, growing up in India and coming to the UK and having an arranged marriage, and how her culture shaped her. I don't think any of us have laughed quite so much in training since we started.

The biggest thing that I picked up, during the discussions, was that the expectations and responsibilities placed on women in other cultures really are no different from those on women in Western cultures. Of course, a woman who is raped isn't likely to be stoned to death for adultery here, as she may be in Pakistan, but then I recently read about a girl who was raped, about the age of 15 or 16, who commited suicide after going through the ordeal of giving evidence in court. Suicide as a response to being raped isn't unheard of. I don't know any figures relating to it, as I guess it would be hard to find the data. But it's somethng that Rape Crisis have had to deal with in the past and no doubt will do in the future. I've read, anecdotally, about men who can't cope with their partner being raped, partly because she was 'with' another man, and the relationship has broken down. If a Western woman reports being raped, she may not be literally executed, but there's a good chance that she may face a public execution of an entirely different sort. Because, you know, she was wearing a low-cut top, made use of her Rampant Rabbit, had had a few drinks with the man in question, and obviously regretted it in the morning, so decided to cry rape. (A phrase I'm starting to loathe the very sound of, with it's tacit implications of crying wolf, and the fact that it's completly at odds with reality. 2% of reported rapes are false allegations, no different from any other type of crime.)

So, anyway. Before I lose the point of my tangent; other cultures are only different on the very top layers. Once you get under the skin and different languages, we're all, all the same. Also known as Reason I'd Be A Crap Racist #17,903.

The rest of the day's training was devoted to issues involving asylum seekers. Amongst other things, I really want to shake Michael Howard by the shoulders until he is but a blur. On 22nd Septemeber, 2004, he is quoted as saying in a speech "We will pull out of the 1951 Refugee Convention, as is our right... The Convention is now thorougly outdated." The legal definition of a refugee is included in the Wiki article, so I won't copy-paste it to here. In some ways, yes, the Convention is out-dated. It doesn't account for persecution relating to sex or sexuality, specifically. But to throw it open to change could also throw it open to destruction. Britain takes 2% of the world's refugees, but to listen to certain quarters of the media and some political parties *coughBNPcough*, you can't turn around for illegal immigrants. Or, indeed, immigrants. Never mind that the people claiming asylum probably would give anything to not be here, claiming asylum. How bad would things have to be before you made the choice to flee your home, your life, everything you've ever known, without knowing if or when you might be able to go back?

And, in a shocking leap (unless you've made it through the above without blood springing from somewhere it doesn't normally leak), I'm now thinking about finding a way into advocacy. Believe me, I wish I could save the world, but I think the wand's broken. It's certainly rattling ominously instead of flashing and making ginglyginglygingle sounds.

*only in the sense that, for me to have babies, I will only have babies with Billy Corgan, not that I'm a scary fan-girl.

Been doing some housekeeping... If you look to your right (not that far, I meant 'still on the screen'), you'll see that things have shuffled around slightly. I've changed the names of the whatchamadoos down the side, because what seems witty and/or amusing to me at any given moment? A month or so later, not so much. But do not ignore the instruction to download the songs listed. Bad things will happen if you don't. Like, you'll not hear the wonder of Dawn of the Replicants. I'll pout lots. Your leg will fall off.* I'm told that iTunes has a few downloads kicking about, I've just rented out my soul to emusic, there's a bunch of music blogs that offer free downloads (guess what I'll be looking at over the next eternity) and *coughFrostwirecough* Hmm, some expectorant is needed...

Also, VOTE! Please. It's my new interactive feature. I ask things. You answer. Within the parameters I define, but get used to it. When I rule the world, you won't get so many choices. I will be the tyrant to end all tyrants. In fabulous shoes.

Anyway. I've had 2 glasses of wine this evening (doezzz it show *hic*?) and now feel the need to lie down in a gently spinning room. Oh, I'm a cheap date. But don't tell anyone. I have a tyrannical façade to maintain.





*not actually true, that last one.

Almost gave this post a title that would make reference to Wet Wet Wet (a.k.a. 'Clydebank's finest' [TM]) but then I realised that I'm too cool for only a very few things in this world, but anything connected to Love Is All Around is definitely on that post-it note. In marker pen, underlined three times.

It occured to me earlier, that I'm currently in one of the few jobs in the world where you get renumerated for taking some of your clothes off and not doing so infront of stag parties or misogynistic men who think it's some kind of entertainment. I got trained in bra fitting, and the first thing to do was be shown how it's done.

After work, with the encouragement of Sal, I filled out an application for Virgin, except they call themselves Zavvi now. She pointed out that cute guys work there, as a general rule, and there's a discount. On the products, not the guys. Right after I'd texted back to say that I wasn't so sure about the guys, I spoke to one who was kind of attractive, while another (who wasn't bad) was on the till behind him. Something to look at, I suppose, but I'm really not interested in any sort of relationship just now. If only for practical reasons, it's not something I really want to consider until I've moved back out again.

As suspected, I was paid today. I'm reasonably sure it was only one weeks' worth though. Anyway. I've started the Christmas shopping. In other words, 3 small items to put into a gift for one person, but it's still a start. And I cracked and bought the Hello Kitty t-shirt.

Machine Love by the Genitorturers arrived today. If I was a Suicide Girl, their cover of Touch Myself would be the song I would perform to. If I was a Suicide Girl. I wonder how that would sit with feminism? Probably none too well... Ah well. Should I ever find a guy I want to take my clothes off, maybe he'll get a bit of a treat...

The thing that I was trying to fix? Dunzo. The person involved doesn't even regard me as a friend, so that was a colossal waste of effort and energy.

I was idly thinking earlier, while piddling about playing Jewel Quest, about the balance of things. Like that Mint credit card ad; something really stupid happens, somewhere else something really clever happens to balance it out. Someone out there somewhere is having a phenomenally fantastic life; everything goes exactly as they want it to, success comes easily and they've never had to struggle for anything. This person has never experienced heartache so bad that they thought they'd rather be dead than to have to feel it any more and they've found the person they're supposed to be with. This other person is mad about the first person; they're mad about the other person. They're both going to have a long and blissfully happy life together, possibly with a couple of children. Who will be adorable, beautiful and well-behaved. They'll cause their parents a few worried moments, but utimately, the kids will be happy and go on to perpetuate the cycle of happiness and contentment.

These people really owe me.

You know when you make a mess of something? And then you try to fix it, but just make it worse? And then try to fix it again, and make it even worse? And then you get PMS and it goes to hell in a handbasket, and you try to fix it but it seems beyond repair? Have you got a suitable idea of the fankling mess I've got myself into? Good.

How do I fix it, for once and for all?

---

In other news, I got my employee card today. It has my name on and everything. It also means I'm now able to get staff discount on both lingerie and stationary. I'm going to be coming down in pens soon, mark my words.

Also, in somewhat related news, I signed off today. I'm not longer a burden on the tax payer. Just my Mum, but somethings will probably never totally change.

I should be more pleased about that than I actually am, but I'm very tired and a bit hungry and feeling inexplicably blue. So let's just be glad I'm not hidden under my duvet refusing all human contact, excepting the offers of coffee, eh? And when it passes I'll be quite pleased that, while I do feel like this, I'm not under the duvet, occasionally snuffling and feeling extremely sorry for myself.

While meme hunting, I discovered Troubled Diva. Totally in love with his blog now. Anyway, this is swiped from there. His answers are far more entertaining than mine ever could be.

"Cheaper and quicker than cognitive behavioural therapy: just stick your MP3 player on shuffle, and let it answer the following set questions, oracle style."

1. What do you think of me, Random Music Player?
Time Of Your Life - Green Day

2. Will I have a happy life?
Just A Car Crash Away - Marilyn Manson

3. What do my friends really think of me?
Walk Like An Egyptian - The Bangles

4. What does my Significant Other think of me?
Sleeping In - The Postal Service

5. Do people secretly lust after me?
Kettle Whistle - Jane's Addiction

6. How can I make myself happy?
Freedom - Rage Against The Machine

7. What should I do with my life?
Breaking The Law - Judas Preist

8. Why must life be so full of pain?
On Language - Julie Ruin

9. How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
Black Coffee In Bed - Ben Folds

10. Can you give me some advice?
We Used To Be Friends - The Dandy Warhols

11. What do you think happiness is?
Autobahn - Kraftwerk

12. Do you have any advice to give over the next few hours/days?
This Place Is A Prison - The Postal Service

13. Will I die happy?
Live And Learn - The Cardigans

I'm going to die alone, aren't I? With a criminal record. Oh well, I always had the feeling that I would. But without the prison time. I don't know; my Phavourites playlist is made of 600ish songs, 570 of which are happy, bouncy, 'ain't-life-great?' songs, but when I go for a random selection of all the songs I have copies of, it gives me 13 numbers that are bittersweet at best, some of which I've never really listened to, because I'm usually bopping around, listening to my Phavourites. And what's with the sudden obsession with The Postal Service?

But I'll go with the Black Coffee In Bed thing. Coffee + sex can only be good.

So, there's been this thing on my mind that I've avoided writing about. Partly because there's a high probability of it being all in my head (so's everything) and because of that, I feel like I'm being silly. But it's been going round and round in my head for at least a couple of weeks, if not longer. It's no at a point where I'm second-guessing everything that relates to it, and it's tiring. It involves someone else, and what they think about me. While I'm generally good at working out what people think, because it is quite important to me, I might as well be blindfolded and in a sound-proof chamber. And I start from a baseline of 'no-one likes me really.'

But anyway. I think I'm going to have to find a way to settle this. Even though I think I know how it's going to end. But I'm not behaving like myself and I don't like that.

1. Wash up, cuddle or fall asleep?
Usually wipe down the Rabbit and go about my business.

2. Have you ever faked orgasms?
Nope. With the Rabbit I don't need to. And when I've been having sex with guys, either their secure enough in their masculinity to know that I don't have to orgasm to have a good time, or they were so selfish they didn't really care about my pleasure at all.

3. In any 24 hour period, what is the most number of time you have ever had sex?
Dunno, never kept count. But I know I'd rather have really good sex once than lots of okay sex.

4. Have you ever had sex or given/received oral sex while you were driving a car?
No. For 2 reasons; I can't drive and for me to be giving or receiving oral sex while in the driver's seat... the sheer mechanics are mind-boggling.

5. What do you think the average number of sexual partners your sex has in their lifetime? Do you think most people lie when asked?
I'd guess that, for women, the average is between 0 and 30,000. Yes, people probably do lie, in certain circumstances, because society tells us that women shouldn't sleep around and to do so is shameful, while men must have worn through their bedposts with the notches. And people, in general, don't like to single themselves out as different.

Bonus (as in optional):Can men and women be "just friends?" (Explain)
Yes. Because by that crude logic, straight men couldn't be friends with gay men, lesbians couldn't be friends with straight women and bisexual folks couldn't be friends with anyone.

I've signed up for a music download service. That you pay for. I was suckered by a bit of shiny paper that fluttered out of Q. I think I was distracted by the cover photo of Kylie in a nude-coloured sequinned top, complete with shading to give the illusion of breasts and nipples. I still can't make up my mind about it, which probably means I don't like it.

Anyways. I was reading The F Word blog earlier, and was reminded of something that irked me recently. Apparently, UKTV G2 have rebranded themselves, dedicating themselves to 'witty banter'. So, plenty good telly, Never Mind The Buzzcocks, Q.I. and so on. But they've called it 'Dave'. Because only men can be witty. Or like music, other than Take That or Britney Spears. Or like cars. Or know lots of stuff about nothing, and be entertained with and by it. It's like the Yorkie thing of "It's not for girls". Either a totally pathetic and cynical marketing ploy, designed to irritate feminists the world over, or neolithic attitudes about gender once again. Because, you know, women only watch soaps and cooking programs, or interior decoration programs and ones about losing weight. And 'reality' TV. Which is a pretty stupid name, considering that every single one of these 'reality' shows is based around a premise that's so unreal it's good friends with hen's teeth and the chocolate teapot that actually works (and not just with iced tea). Seriously; what's real about being locked in a house with nothing to do for 3 months? Or a bunch of slebs in the jungle? It's hardly their natural habitat. Or people learning to dance/skate/cut hair to a professional standard in 8 weeks? Or becoming a popstar in 13 weeks or 26 weeks or however long a series of The X Factor runs (it feels like it never ends). Add to that the presence of TV cameras, and I think it's safe to say it's more improvisational than natural. Bah.

Music. It makes me happy. Salt, lemon and a-lime time!

"You can make a lovely hat out of previously-used aluminium foil."

I'm guessing the hat would also be shaped somewhat like a pyramid? And where does the stuff that comes out of fish figers when I'm grilling them go? In one's hair?

"Recycled plastic bottles can be made into rugs, jackets, fences and more."

Wouldn't that be awkward to run the hoover over? And I fear the jacket may be a tad bulky...

"Recycled cans can be made into airplanes, appliances, furniture and more."

Oooh, can't wait to snuggle with a special someone on that sofa.

"Unneeded printouts can be cut and stapled to make notepads."

The syntax here feels clunky, which is enough to get my hackles rising. The other thing is; whither the metal and energy to make the staples?

All the other tips seem to involved using all kinds of everything as package stuffing. But why stop there? Why not use plastic bags and newspapers to stuff cushions? It'd probably make that sofa a bit more comfortable.

I was trying to find the appropriate bit of Devil In The Dark, but couldn't. Watch the remastered trailer for it, though. If you haven't ever seen the orignal series, you're in for quite a disappointment. And who came up with "Boldly go. Again" as a slogan? It sounds like it's selling assertive laxatives. Anyway. Instead of finding Leonard Nimoy seriously earning his keep, I found this. And it rocks. Get your own downloads of the mp3s at www.vulcansrock.com I already did and I'm just fabulous, so be like me.

[edit: the bit at the end with the chicks? Now I'm right off eggs as well as chicken meat...]

Allow me to channel my inner Spock...

Bugger, I've forgotten my Hotmail password. It's not one of the 3 I usually use, so I'm totally scunnered. Oh well, it's only jobs and a crappy horoscope anyway. But what is the password? That'll irritate me now, at least until I get distracted by something else.

I'd forgotten what it's like to have a payday imminent. This morning, before I woke up totally, I was planning my day on Saturday. After training, there's a skinny gingerbread latté with my name on it from the Starbuck's behind GoMA and I'm going to peruse Missing thoroughly. You never know, I might even find a copy of Music For People there. I'd order it from Amazon Marketplace, but I'm loathe to pay a tenner without having checked all my options. More fool me for lending it to Doug. 3 years ago. He still has my copy of Earphoria too. Damn.

Last night I dreamt I was drinking cider with a friend. Oddly enough, I remember the name of it was something like Squirrel's. The oddest thing about it is, I virtually never dream about people I know in reality. Seriously. In 3 years with Ben, I don't recall dreaming about him once. I've dreamt about Iain, but that's been since we broke up and they've had a more nightmarish quality. Damn my subconcious. I want cider now.

Oh. My. Goodness. Would you look at this? OK, so she's paying lip service to it being applicable to men as well as women, though as I understand it, if a man really doesn't want sex there's very little one can do. Perhaps I've been brainwashed into that belief? But anyway, the main thrust (harhar) is that women should just lie back and think of England/Scotland/Zambia/Mars/etc to keep their men happy.

"Having researched my new book, as well as talked to thousands of men and women over the years, I now firmly believe that too many women see the sexual side of their lives as something to be claimed completely and utterly as their own."

Heaven forfend that a women's sexuality and body should be "completely and utterly [her] own".

I'm so enraged by this, I've started writing about 6 different things then dissolved into *headdesk*, so I'm going to stop before I have a permanent imprint of the space bar above my nose.

Well, I'm nearly back to normal. Maybe I should become a professional surrogate. Fewer periods, none of the smelly nappies. Dur, except there's only about 2 different anti-depressants one can take while pregnant, so that's not such a good idea either.

The posts from the past couple of days? Don't pay them any attention. That wasn't me. That was my raging hormones. In fact, anyone I've been in any kind of contact with since about Thursday last week? Sorry. That was my evil twin you were dealing with. She bashed me over the head and stole my clothes. And my shoes, which I'm far more upset about.

I'm so tired. I did sleep last night (eventually, it's really difficult to drop off when you want to rip someone's head off for no reason other than you feel like you could) but I think, because of the rage, I didn't sleep very well at all.

And, lastly for now, I think I'll be getting paid on Friday! The thing will be to not go and buy the Hello Kitty sweater I saw in H&M. I don't have the body for sweaters, now that I'm well past puberty, but it's Hello Kitty! Who cares? It's not like I'm going out on the pull! Or the Hello Kitty t-shirt. It's white, which I don't wear much, but she is pictured holding a guitar...And, again, it's not like I'm dressing to impress!Anyway. I have to start thinking about Christmas gifts, and who I'm giving to. I've already seen a good t-shirt on Threadless that I think Mum would like, but I'm unsure if she'd wear, being my Mum. Dad's easy; Thornton's Special Toffee and a crossword book. Alan's a pain, but that's non-specific. I have something to send to Sally, and I know what I'm putting in with it (oh, yes, I am that evil), so that leaves Chris, Lesley and Al and Debs. And any Secret Santa things I may be participating in. Now that I'm thinking about this, I'm very glad I'm single and still will be by the end of the year. I wouldn't know where to begin with a boy.

The Evra trans-dermal contraceptive patch? Extremely convenient. Has turned me into some kind of she-devil, though. Unfortunately, I still have the weird thing about physically taking pills. I don't want to get the injection, that made me fat. I'm worried that the implant would do the same. Given that the only pregnancies the contraceptive would be preventing are immaculate conceptions, the only reason I'm using contraception is to regulate my hormones. The patch really isn't working for that. And I'm a minute and a half away from sobbing my heart out over anything at all times. When I went offline last night, I was so angry. I hated myself so much. I'm going to have to get this sorted out, or I'll be the first recorded case of contraceptive-caused suicide.

The desire to punch Ben though, I don't think that's related. It's totally rational.

I'm in a very bad mood. I hate me, I hate you (but not you, Pilf, or Fiat), I hate everything, but most of all I hate myself. My existance is pointless, I don't know why I bother with anything because at the end of it, there will be nothing. 'Life' has been something that happens to other people while I wait for it to remember me, and it ain't changing.

Had enough. Fed up. If someone like Ben can have a relatively successful life, I don't want to know.

Really, what did I do?

Ben just texted me 'accidentally'. Why does it matter to him for me to know he finally shagged his girlfriend, presumably last night? He could fuck her sideways 'til next Friday, I really don't give a shit.

Does he need to reassure himself that I still give a damn? Because, frankly, I don't. With hindsight, getting involved with him was never the best idea, getting engaged was worse, and getting back together again was the worst. I find it difficult to recall any redeeming qualities he may possess right now. The only thing I might be slightly jealous of is that he's in a shiny new relationship, having lots of kinky sex by the sounds of it, and I'm not. And that to find someone is so damn easy for him, and it's not for me. Evidently, I'm far more discerning these days. It's perfect or not at all for me now.

But it's a fool's game, and he's more than welcome to it.

Blame my hormones; the patch seems to give me intense PMS for about 2 weeks out of every 4. Anyway... I've been thinking a lot about the last time I had sex. With another person. Historically, I've always found it easy to orgasm, as long as I'm in the right frame of mind. The last person I had sex with, I fancied a lot and had been extremely patient and waited for a very long time before finally having my wicked way with him. It took a huge mental effort to not orgasm almost immediately after penetration; partly for that reason, partly because it felt so damned good and partly because I don't like the people I have sex with to think it's that easy to make me come. In this case though, I should've just let go. A little while later, when I knew I was getting close and I could tell it was going to be intense. The sort where you lose all coordination and you feel like you might turn inside out, in a good way. Except I got cramp in my bum. Twice. I let it subsided, and once it had gone, got back to where I had been very swiftly. The cramp came back again, even moreso. And it's not all me, me, me. At least, not all the time. After taking a break to allow my muscles to have a good think about what they'd done, we were at it again. He told me he almost passed out.

I hate my hormones sometimes, I really do.

Usually, falling asleep will improve my mood. This time, though, I just want to go back to bed and stay there. The fireworks will be pretty, yes, but I could probably hang out my bedroom window and see them just as easily. Without having to share the same space as 500 other people, some of whom will try to walk through me.

I really can't be doing with myself just now, or enforced gaiety. This is where a chemical dependency would ease things a bit. Ironically, I've had Rehab by Amy Winehouse in my head since work yesterday, if I don't get rid soon, I'll be finding a firearm of some kind. To hell with the interior decoration.

I wrote some music in a dream. I could hear the drumbeat, the bass line and the melody. I was awake enough to be conscious that it wasn't a song I'd heard before and to hum along with myself, but not quite awake enough to write anything down. So another musical masterpiece, lost to humanity.

In another dream, I was talking to a friend. We were in Borders (process of elimination to work that one out) looking at magazines. He was after the Dr. Who magazine and I wanted to see if there was a new issue of Bitch available yet. (That's how I knew it was Borders.) He said something to me, though I can't remember what. It was hurtful, so I sort of sighed and walked away. I found Bitch, but I think it was the copy I've already got, then turned around to find my friend waiting for me. He may have apologised for what he said, or said something that negated the harshness at least. And he wanted to show me something in his magazine. Whatever it was was immediately forgotten and we continued on our way. I think I woke not long after that.

Today, I really have to tidy my room. I can barely walk across to my bed, let alone dance like a maniac. Also, anything to stop Mum going on about it.

Doing the usual blog-catch-up, I was reading Feministblogs when I read about this story involving Big Brother in South Africa.

Oh, and there it is. I've just thrown up in my mouth.

My back hurts, my feet hurt and I'm not sure if it's the shoes or standing or whatever, plus PMS that's doing it. Having someone to stroke my back would be blissful, right about now. But I have Rainbow Drops instead, which is about as good as I'm going to get any time soon.

Unless a miracle occurs between now and tomorrow, I'm not going to make it to Lesley's party. It's a bugger, because I miss her and I really want to see her, and her parties are always fun. Well, the bits I can remember are fun. My first kiss after Iain was at one of them.... But anyway. There will be folks in attendence who I could do without running into in the next 150 years, and there's always a lot of people at them and I really can't be doing with it. So fireworks with Mum and Dad instead.

By which I mean gunpowder and coloured lights in the sky, not an almighty familial row.

So it's a new year and I did the thing that Lesley suggested involving a candle (I'll leave the rest to your imagination. No, I didn't do that. Or that. It was a nightlight and I'm not that kinky.) Then I went to bed and cried for a good 5 minutes. For me, that's quite something. My eyes were puffy when I woke. I also burnt my thumb and a finger slightly, but nothing bad.

Work was fine, then I went to an interview. Braehead isn't the easiest place to get to from East Kilbride (it's near Glasgow airport if you want to look for it on Google Earth), but I figured I'd get a bus and it would go reasonably smoothly.

What I didn't take into account was that heel grips, while they stop your shoes falling off all the time, still will rub a blister and inch across on your heel. And trying to get through Glasgow city centre on a rainy afternoon will sorely test the patience of a saint, never mind a woman in shoes that hurt, who has lost her umbrella and is running late. So I just missed a bus. The next one was due 30 minutes later. Naturally, it turned up about 15 minutes late. I arrived for my interview about an hour late. I had already phoned ahead to say I would be a bit late, and the manager was really nice about it, and I saw her write down that I have a 'friendly' personality and that my personal appearance was 'well-groomed' and something. I got a tad carried away in Lush afterwards; I now have Potion and Silky Underwear solid fragrances. And a free Sunnyside bubble bar, which says it all, really.

My hours have been extended tomorrow, at this rate I'll get to Lesley's a week on Tuesday.