gibbon-arsed ramblings of a hopeless underachiever
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| bandhag gibbon-arsed ramblings of a hopeless underachiever |
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Wednesday, April 28, 2004 Ok, The Rage has subsided now I've blogged it out. Actually, it was never a rage really. More a bit of an OCD "oh my God, the books on that shelf aren't all the same height" twitch. So...yeah. I can see the headlines tomorrow. Online Quizzes in "Not Necessarily 100% Scientifically Sound" Shocker. I fully expect the emails to come flooding in over the next couple of days - offer to join Mensa, lucrative investigative journalism deals, MI5 trying to tempt me to work for them... Or not. The latest in my "Things I Think About Instead of Sleeping" series: Gastroentiritis. Could be seen as a bit of a wasted opportunity, really. If you could just stop feeling so bloody miserable for a while, you could go mad and stuff as much fatty junk food down your craw as you can in between the toilet explosions - it won't matter, you won't get fat cos it's all coming straight back out again anyway. No embarrassing waits in the chemist for a carrier-bag full of expensive laxatives, just hours and hours of all-bingeing, all-purging fun. Tonight, I will be going to bed early and forcing myself to think about normal things like shopping lists and kittens. posted by bandhag | 4/28/2004 11:46:00 PM Who the hell writes the code for these online quiz thingies? Finding myself with a couple of bored minutes to myself, I took this one (which was linked on Fluffy's blog). Filled it in honestly, and got this: 
You Should Consider Going LesbianIf you think you're straight, you're fooling yourself! You're at least bi - and there's a good chance you may find yourself a lesbian. Don't be shy about liking women. It may lead you to the best sex of your life. As you may know, some say that no one can please a woman like another woman... :-) My word. Who'd a thunk it? Since I'm fairly sure that I'm not a lesbian, even though Miss Brody Dalle, I SO would, I was curious to know what the quiz might come up with if I changed some of my answers. So I went back, changed some stuff, and got
You Should Consider Going LesbianIf you think you're straight, you're fooling yourself! [etc] Huh. Interesting. As an aside, I don't like the phrase "Going Lesbian", for some reason. There's something faintly derogatory about it. Anyway, being the curious kind, I needed to experiment further and went back and changed more answers to "non-gay-friendly" choices, one-by-one, to see what would happen. Even when I changed my original answers to the questions "The thought of getting another girl off:" to "Turns your stomach, to be honest" and "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to kiss one of your girlfriends?" to "The thought really hasn't crossed your mind", it still insists that I "Should Consider Going Lesbian". Correct me if I'm wrong, but if you had never thought about kissing a girl and the idea of getting a girl off turned your stomach, would you not make a really rather shit lesbian? You'd be a pretty third-rate bi, for that matter. Of course, what really upsets me about all this is the fact that the person doing the coding clearly hadn't thought it through properly. They'd obviously decided it was more significant that I think short hair looks good on some women and that I would get my tongue pierced rather than my navel, than it was whether or not I would be happy about the idea of making a woman come. This lack of logic gives me The Rage. I'm a geekosexual. posted by bandhag | 4/28/2004 11:22:00 PM Saturday, April 24, 2004 So, I caught the "and, later" part of the news headlines yesterday and heard them announce a story about scientists managing to breed mice without fertilising the eggs. "More proof that males will soon become obsolete?" posited the reporter. I chuckled and turned over but the thought has jangled round in my head a bit since. What if males really did become obsolete? There'd be good points, of course - the people who write instruction manuals would finally feel like their work was being validated, since those instructions might actually get read, ever; there'd never be a huge queue for the toilets because a) our toilet quota would immediately double and b) architects would design public places with ENOUGH DAMN TOILETS in the first place; Sky One's Dream Team would surely end; people would probably be able to have sexual contact and still maintain a basic level of communication. But what would the world be like with just women in it? Wars would break out because President Mary-Lou of the USA had promised to call UK Prime Minister Michelle but forgot, or was busy making apple pie, so PM Michelle would ring General Fatima of Libya, who would agree with Michelle that Mary-Lou was, like, obviously blanking her or trying to make a point or something and she'd never given back that favourite top of Michelle's she'd borrowed on her last state visit, so fuck her - Michelle would drop a nuke on Texas and then call Mary-Lou in the morning and demand an apology for being so insensitive and dropping her for her "new friends" or whatever. Or worse, she'd send a note to the USA challenging their top squads to meet the 13th Cosmopolitan Infantry outside a Ritzy for a scratching-hair-pulling-shin-kicking-bitch-slapping fight to the death. The obsession with looks and weight would spiral out of control. Fuck it, if the theories about women's menstrual cycles co-ordinating when they live in close proximity are true, we'd only last a few months before a PMT tsunami would extinguish all life as we know it. But maybe I'm jumping the gun a bit here. Obsolete doesn't really mean "non-existent". In the strictest sense, it's a fashion thing. It means "not in use" or "outmoded in design, style or construction". Hmmm. So maybe there'd still be men, but they'd fall out of fashion so there'd be less use for them and the numbers would dwindle down to nearly nothing. No modern lifestyles and high-powered jobs for them - they'd become the Sinclair C5's of humankind, locked away and forgotten in dusty bachelor ghettos, ignored and unwanted. Of course, the freaks among us who couldn't shake the perversion of wanting more than fingers or bits of plastic inside us would sneak off every now and again for some illicit hetero sex, but it would be dirty and unspoken-of and (almost worse, on a woman's planet) deeply, deeply unfashionable. Until...the inevitable. Everything that falls out of fashion one day becomes retro chic. I can see it now - design company of the future, sharp-dressed laydeez sitting around the boardroom discussing what to make the Next Big Thing. The ageing MD pauses, mid-munch on a chocolate bar and says "You know what I miss? What were those things called...the ones with the...whaddyacallem....cocks?". "ummm, errr, oh God, what are they called? The ones who couldn't ask for directions if their life depended on it?" "Yeah, I know the ones you mean. Smelt funny. Always had their hands down their pants" "Oh...was it....Men?" "Yeah, MEN, that was it! Look, I think I've got some photos here somewhere. Yeah, here - look. Aren't they just so deliciously...RETRO? Look at that clunky design" "Oh my God, look at that! What were we thinking? I used to have one of those! Look at it's CHIN! I remember all that scratching and scraping... Talk about primitive!" "We should so do it. The consumers will lap it up. We can sell different outfits separately - a business suit, stripy pyjamas" "Oo, Oo! I liked the ones with the jeans and band t-shirts!" "That's a bit girly, isn't it? What about uniforms?" "And national dress" "Or just underwear!" "Yeah, yeah - we want to maximise sales so we'll need them in loads of different sizes and stuff, so women of all shapes will look good with one. And a variety of styles so we can match them with our lifestyles/outfits." "Hahahahaha. Ladies, I think we have a plan" And before you know it, scientists will be back in the labs, under orders to create men as fast as they can, demand outstripping supply at a giddying rate. Men will be crawling out of their hidey-holes and selling themselves on eBay as "original collectables". They'll only be fashionable for one or two seasons, of course, then they'll fall out of favour again for another 20 years. Which will cause kind of a problem, unless we've managed to find a way to make humans in adult form, because there'll be loads of boys sat in the 50p bin at the local Oxfam until the fashion rolls around again... So, trying-to-annihilate-men scientist types, take heed: if you want to get rid of something, never make it "obsolete" - it leaves the door wide open for a comeback. Just ask Peter fucking Andre. posted by bandhag | 4/24/2004 02:31:00 AM Friday, April 23, 2004 Two people live in my house but our bathroom has four toothbrushes (which I always want to write as "teethbrush") in it, and that's not even counting my electric one. Even accounting for the fact that Lovely Flatmate has an other half, this still leaves us with one surplus toothbrush. Whose is it? And I'm not even 100% sure any of them are Lovely Flatmate's, since she's away at the moment and yet they're all still there. A self-replicating toothbrush army, waiting to attack me in the night and scrub my teeth down to nubs... posted by bandhag | 4/23/2004 12:44:00 PM Thursday, April 22, 2004 where I ...huh, I started off singing Derek B's "Bad Young Brother" (his fault) and it turned into Prince's "Sign of the Times". Did the former sample the latter? Yes, I believe it did. Phew, that's that mystery solved, then. can't really ...I wonder if candy floss would keep for over a week? Oh no, it looks ok, but turns to granulated sugar as soon as it's in your mouth. Blee. And yet... I've started so I'll finish... seem to ...Wonder if that baby pigeon we saw wobbling all over the Tube station the other night is ok?... concentrate ...Now would seem like a good time to re-arrange my CDs. By genre, alphabetical or chronological?.... on my ...Wonder how long it would take to walk from one side of London to the other. Someone must have,at some point... work. posted by bandhag | 4/22/2004 10:59:00 AM I've updated some links to the right thar --> of lovely people who've linked to me and whose blogs I like. Sorry if I've missed anyone - luck, rather than judgement, I can assure you. posted by bandhag | 4/22/2004 12:31:00 AM Yeah, I've been slack. Sorry. But hey, I have been having a life, innit! To wit: 1. Shaun of the Dead. Fucking fantastic film, hilarious. Simon Pegg must marry me. 2. Visit to Southend with the wonderful R&A, encompassing: - Much time in amusement arcades, where R rocked the house with her dancing game moves, ah yeah. We also spent many 2ps and 10ps playing Penny Falls. Oh the hypnotic back and forth of those machines. And you win. You win COPPERS. Which you immediately PUT BACK IN. Fantastic. - Consuming my first ever seaside fish n chips. Shameful, to have reached nearly [whisper] that age and not eaten fish n chips by the sea. - Going on fairground rides for the first time in 13 years. I was never scared of heights until I was about 20, when it hit me all of a sudden in a shopping centre (and my, how hilarious that experience was - I looked over the side of the top floor of the centre, down to the bottom, and was suddenly in a cold sweat, torn between the urge to a) throw myself off or b) lie down on the floor). That being between my last rollercoasters experience and now, I was a little hesitant, but it ruled. Except for the first ride, which involved one of those doodads where you all sit in a row, it takes you up about 50 feet, drops you, takes you up again, etc etc. I think my extra weight meant I was pulling extra G or something, and was highly embarrassed to note that I was grunting "Oof" every time we dropped. Classy. Anyway, the rides were ace and I spent all the time giggling so much my mouth and teeth were bone dry every time we got off one. The haunted house was horrible, though. The ride itself was your normal pishy dayglo "ghosts" and "WooooOOoooo" noises, but the walk to the ride was pitch black and, as regular readers will know, I fucking hate the dark. R was lovely and held my hand at the point where I thought I was really about to freak out. - R and I eating cinder toffee until our teeth were screaming, and refusing to go home until we'd bought a bag of candy floss each. - Watching R on the ride my ulcer told me I couldn't go on - the one that spins you upside down, as well as round and round. Twice. She rules. - Sitting in R&A's car eating a little picnic like old folk. I love old ladies at the seaside - sitting in the shelters, eating their fish n chips out of newspaper and watching the world go by. - Beer. In a pub. At the seaside. Very non-traditional. 3. R's club on Saturday night - splendide as ever. Much dancing, the Cambridge gang in attendance, too much beer as usual. 4. Gig last night somewhere near Savile Row, where the first support would have had an excuse to be so dreadful if they'd been sixth formers, but they weren't, so they didn't. Example lyrics included something about shit being smelly... Second support (who we'd gone to see) were great and headliners were... um. Can't remember. I'm not naming bands because I'm getting loads of referrals from the bands I've mentioned on here and I'm getting Discovery Anxiety. Oh, and the beer was called something like Le Coq and was in pyramid-shaped bottles. Bizarre. That crazy West End. So that was that. Apologies for another "junior school newsbook" posting. I'll try harder next time. Blame my friends for making me happy, and therefore entirely bereft of entertainment value. Yeah, I know - like I ever have any anyway. posted by bandhag | 4/22/2004 12:24:00 AM Monday, April 12, 2004 Happy pagan festival of spring, y'all. Since I'm a single woman (W.O.M.A.N. I'll say it again), and everybody knows that all single women write diaries like that there Bridget Jones, here are my bank holiday figures: Total chocolate eggs consumed = 0 Longest period of sustained television watching, in pyjamas = 6 Number of religious programmes viewed = 1. The comedy value of the religious channels on Sky cannot be expressed in words Alcoholic units consumed = lost count after 16 Number of times woken in the night by cat over two nights = 7 Number of times cat woke me specifically to cause me to tread in her fresh vomit = 1 The vomit thing sounds worse than it is. Tip for cat-owners: always feed your cat dry food. That way, when the fucking gannet wolfs the whole lot down too quickly and barfs it back up again, it'll just come up as slightly soggy biscuits, which are fairly easy to clean up, rather than some never-be-clean puddle of ick. Plus dry food makes their breath slightly less skin-peeling. Was meant to be doing a "zombie-thon" with friends on Saturday (original Dawn of the Dead + sequels at theirs, then on to the cinema for Shaun of the Dead) but accidentally went to a gig and all got shitfaced instead. Ho hum. Probably a good thing, as it was pointed out to me by my Very Wise Friend that if we were doing a zombie-thon we should really include The Passion of The Christ, since good ole' Jeebus is the original and best "living dead" type. Perhaps another time. Or perhaps not. Mel Gibson. Gak. Random and bizarre things: 1. Dreaming about spilling the entire contents of a pot of translucent powder into my bathroom sink, being unable to wash it away and freaking the fuck out because my youngest sister was about to arrive and would not be impressed. 2. I've been getting referrals from someone who's just telling his readers he's dropping me from his bookmarks (um. Boo hoo?). I find it slightly bizarre and very amusing that people would come here on an unrecommendation. Heh. Welcome to the crapodome, new readers! Enjoy. posted by bandhag | 4/12/2004 05:09:00 PM Thursday, April 08, 2004 Aged aunt: So, have things got sorted out with your flat yet? Me: Only just. There were still repairs outstanding from when we moved in two months ago, so this month we wrote to them saying they had seven days to sort them out, otherwise we would get them fixed ourselves and deduct the bill from our rent, and that we'd be withholding our rent in any case until it was sorted. They came round the day after they got the letter and fixed everything. Aged aunt: Oo, you shouldn't have done that, it could have backfired on you and they could have thrown you out or something. Me: Aged aunt: Oh well, you were lucky then. Me: posted by bandhag | 4/08/2004 08:44:00 PM Wednesday, April 07, 2004 It wasn't London's Trendy Shoreditch, it was London's Trendy Stoke Newington. Dribble-bib for one, please. posted by bandhag | 4/07/2004 12:34:00 PM God, I'm so desperately rock and/or roll, no? Ha. So, ATP2. It was great, and I am knackered, therefore you will get the heavily abridged version: Saturday: Set off an hour late; got to chalet; filled bags with booze; Saw a little bit of Black Dice (endless droning noise with pingu sounds over the top. I'm told they're impressive if you can actually see them, as they have three drummers. I didn't see them, so they weren't); bit of Erase Errata (tres fantastic); Angelblood (a rock band with two female vocalists doing what I can only describe as crazy bedouin-style stuff over the top of it all, one of them in a tiny leopardskin-print dress over these "chaps tights" as we christened them - opaque at the front, but with this semi-transparent panel down the back with straps going across. Nice); Le Tigre (Rock. My. World); spotted PJ Harvey (teeny tiny lady); Sonic Youth - having heard my friends R&A's horror stories about the last time S.Y. played ATP (experimental free-form nonsense with trumpets etc, that R had to walk out of and which left A practically in tears and - despite being one of his favourite bands ever - he's never been to one of their gigs since), I was ready to make a sprint for the door if/when it all went pear-shaped. However, while by no means a "greatest hits" gig, it was really very good indeed; Lightning Bolt (considerably further forward in the crowd than I wanted to be and it was fucking mental - just a writhing, pushing, moshing, sweating heap of people going ballistic. Lost my beer immediately and for what seemed like forever, it was all I could do just to stay upright and stop people from falling on top of me); About 3 a.m., back to chalet for more buze; weather so bad none of us could face going back outside. Sleeeeep. Sunday - didn't really see many bands. Walked through lots and caught snatches of them - Jackie O Motherfucker, Notwist, Arab Strap and Explosions in the Sky. Watched Cat Power (soothing and pleasant but not necessarily right for the time of day); mostly just mucked about and got pissed - this was the day that we all drank ourselves sober and just ended up feeling sick. Still, it didn't stop us staying up and dancing in the pub until 5. Monday: took us over 5 hours to get home (Damn you to Hades, public transport system), and after less than an hour of dump-bag/reassure-kittybandhag-I-hadn't-abandoned-her-forever/push-food-into-face at home, we were off out again to see KaitO, Erase Errata and Le Tigre at the Astoria. The crowd was a lot bigger and pushier than at ATP, unsurprisingly, and what with the weekend and the effort of staying upright at the front, I was fucking exhausted by the time I got to bed yesterday. I think if it hadn't been Le Tigre, I'd have given up and gone home before the end - I was already saying I didn't think I could cope with being at the front before Erase Errata had finished their set, but god DAMN, Le Tigre are just so positive and uplifting, and one of my favourite bands ever. I don't think any other band could have given me the energy to keep dancing last night long after my aging body had started screaming "ENOUGH ALREADY - GET TO BED!". You can't help but love a band who can incite the hundreds-strong audience to yell feminist anthems along with them. It's a pity, though, that a band with such clear politics still seems to attract twats at their gigs - the guy who started shouting at some girl for 'pushing' him and wouldn't stop screaming at her even after she'd apologised (which only happened after he refused to accept that she hadn't been pushing him), the girls who started a scrap with some others just behind us, the girl who tried to get in front of me with her right arm leading via somewhere around my thigh - I think she was trying to duck under my arm or something, but with me being less than 5 foot and her being nearer to 6, that was never going to be a good tactic... Still, to be fair, she did stop when I turned and calmly asked her "What is it you're trying to do, exactly?" When she stopped trying to force me out of the way, I made room for her to come and stand beside me. Spread the love, baby. posted by bandhag | 4/07/2004 12:43:00 AM Friday, April 02, 2004 Accidentally went out again last night, despite having had only a few hours of sleep the night before. Only got a few hours last night, too, so as you can imagine I'm feeling positively radiant. If you get a chance to see Distophia, do. They have a very Pavement/Dinosaur Jr sound about them and are veh veh good indeed. It was my first time in "London's Trendy Shoreditch". Was alright, I suppose, though I can't really see what all the fuss is about. Very odd things: Thing the first - man at the table next to us looked the absolute spit of Tjinder from Cornershop, though I don't think it was him, unless he's had a haircut and managed not to age at all in the past 5 years. Thing the second - couple fully suited and booted, standing next to me in the front row, sipping white wine while the girl of the couple frugged out to Distophia and the records being played before they came on. And I'm not talking trendy fashion suits, all ironic like, I'm talking full-on "I've just come from work, where I do proper grown up business" suits. I had a little internal conversation with myself about this: - Erk. This is making me feel kind of uncomfortable. - Why? - Dunno. I'm stood here in me manky jeans and band t-shirt, nodding my head appreciatively, and she's in that little tweedy skirt suit getting on down in a full-body-stylee. Just seems sort of... odd. - Hmm. Why? - Just not used to "that kind of thing" at a gig, I suppose. - Are you being a dreadful indie snob? - Not really. I think it's cool she likes the music. And everyone has to work - I've been known to wear a suit before. Just not to a gig. - Yet she's making you feel uncomfortable. By being not the norm. - A bit. - That's pretty punk rock, if you think about it. - Eh? - You're the sheep, wearing yer casual clothes to a gig, drinking yer manly pints. She's all about the music, baby. Doesn't care what people think of her, or what she's wearing. In fact, she's doing the exact opposite of what everyone else is doing, but not in a pretentious or forced way or to deliberately make a point. - Huh. Yeah, that's true. That is pretty punk. - Rock on, suit girl. - Rock on. posted by bandhag | 4/02/2004 11:43:00 AM |
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