Thanks Beth Ditton. Couldn't think of a better way to launch back into the blog than with a title from a song by an obese lesbian singer that has posed nude on the cover of an arthouse glossy mag. And it is a fricking great song. Again with the lesbians in my blog. I must be obsessed.
And I am to a degree, obsessed with women's bodies. Although not so much in *that* way anymore.Oversharing corner, that's this blog this evening.
So yes, I've been badgirl blogger recently. *hangs head in shame*. Sorry, real life took over. I didn't have time to rant and write incoherent editorial on random topics that entered my head for an invisible audience living in my computer. I had stuff to do. Like stay up late and write out evening wedding invitations (for future reference, this is a bad idea - in hindsight, this should have been obvious). Or see actual real live friends. Or put together the layout of the book of my boudoir pics (frickin website crashed half way through - sucked big time). Oddly enough I have had no time to unblock the sink (SB seems to be shirking his man duties here big time - we are so gender specific in our chores - the 1950's are alive and well in stupidland), neither have I had time to deal with the EU mountain of laundry in our bedroom. Or put away the other EU mountain of clean laundry. Shirley Conran got it wrong when she said `Life is to short to stuff a mushroom`, what she actually meant was `life is too short to pair up all the black socks in the laundry basket and wonder what to do with all the odd ones`.
Instead I have been busy being Goodgirl and going indoor rock climbing.Yes, you heard that right. Sport climbing. Me, a dyed in the wool JP, climbing. I had to cut all my carefully sea-kelp supplemented nails off, remove my rock and wear 3/4 length trousers. Which really do nothing for an hourglass figure. And I'm still recovering from the shock of what, exactly, a harness does for your ass and muffin top. It's not good. Seriously. Its like wearing the outline of a giant nappy. And the last time I wore anything that came upto my belly button was in about 1995. Yes, sorry but that whole fashion for high-waisted stuff back in around April 2008 was just not something I was going to EVER seriously consider. Unless my body divided itself in half.
Anyway climbing. To those who didn't know, my body looks like I've been partaking in some serious S&M. Rope burns on my hand (which bloody hurt). My knees are a kind of greeny-browny-yellowy-purpley-black colour. Which just clashes with like, everything.... Tons of scrapes on my arms and elbows. And my whole body ached like i'd been whipped for several hours. (just to be clear, I never actually have been whipped for several hours - although I like to think I'd make a decent Dom) And to be honest I think climbing is actually more fun that S&M. Although I did completely freeze at the top of the rope on Sunday morning. But I would say that is a fairly normal response when you're 12 meters off the floor and your eejit of a boyfriend is encouraging you let go of the wall and clutch onto a KNOT while he lowers you to the floor. Perhaps I just have issues with letting go and trust?
Anyway I'm going back on saturday for more. I'm just a glutton for punishment. But I do know how to tie a decent knot now. Perhaps I could be a Dom......
What else has been going on? Well lets see - I've been forced to hand over 4years of expenses to my ....oh no, sorry was getting myself confused with ALL THE MP'S SIPHONING OFF TAX PAYERS MONEY!!! Sorry just a bit irate over this one. It's just funny that they thought they could get away with it for so long. I mean really, £41k worth of house improvements, ££ on a boat, christ's sake its ridiculous.
And then swine flu - which as some wag said "is it just the past tense of pigs might fly?" Indeed. Pandemic shmandemic. It'll never happen, although sneezing/coughing is now a big no-no on public transport. Unless you want the entire carriage to shunt away from you and to be shunned by the people in the seats nearest you. Like, hello IT'S HAYFEVER SEASON. Duh. Although I did have a couging fit in Tesco on my lunch break the other day and by the time I got out of the shop I was convinced I had swine flu, TB and was coughing up blood.
Except I wasn't.
Can anyone say `hypochondriac`?
Anyway that's it. I'm fairly senseless with anger by now because the troglodyte on The Apprentice that I think looks like the *thing* out of the Saw movies has not been fired. There is no justice in the world. I need to go and have a little lie down. Thank you and good night.
Stupidgirl has left the building
........................ STUPIDGIRL45: WRITING - PARENTING - WHINGING ...........................
13 May 2009
27 Apr 2009
Generationwhynot Official Soundtrack
Labels:
Music
Some clever clogs shoe ad (clarks maybe?) once had the strapline, *life is a catwalk, walk it*. Which I think is a good idea - and certainly, round here that advice is taken to heart. South London is like a permanent fashion show. And when you're wearing 4inch heels - which I do, a lot - who said tall girls shouldn't wear heels, what a load of shyte, who wants to look stumpy with flippers for feet - life is just so much better. It's impossible to feel fat in 4in stilletoes.
Anyway getting slightly sidetracked by shoes here. Funny how most women can be divided into tribes by their preference for different accessories. I am most definitely a shoe woman. At last count I had around 30 pairs. But that's nothing - I have a friend who has over 75 pairs and her husband is now forcing her to operate a 1 in 1 out policy with regards to new shoes. How cruel is that!
(.....continuing this post 1 week later.....) this blog post just does not want to be written.... And I really must focus after allowing myself to get side-tracked by shoes. The point of this post was..... (big mental *hoick* back on track)..... the songs that get stuck in our heads - hence the catwalk ramble.....you gotta have good music to walk to.
A random assortment for me, in my head, over the last few days has been......
Fernando - Abba
Born Slippy - Underworld
Whole Again - Radioactive Pussy (if you can't work out which band this is.....)
Hey Baby - No Doubt (NOT f****king DJ Otzi)
I Dreamed a Dream - also Abba..... this is thanks to that bloody BGT Scottish woman being everywhere, although yes, I do know she sang the Les Mis one
Superman - Stereophonics
Keep On Running - Spencer David Group - this one is from going to the marathon to cheer on my dad (impressively for an old git he beat Jordan + Peter Andre)
Anyway it is funny isn't it how songs just get stuck in our heads. And sometimes most inappropriately so. Ppppppppoker Face has frequently been in my head as I walk in the door to work purely because the loo paper masquerading as daily news has had coverage of Lady Blah blah's previous wardrobe trauma. So there I am singing Ppppppoker Face all day.
Another highly addictive track - I Kissed A Girl - Katie Perry. Now I am not slagging off Katie Perry, I love her. I think she is a lovely little poppette. But a ditty about lipstick lesbianism is not something you really want going round and round and round in your head ad infinitum during a finance meeting.
And all these songs going round in our heads make up the soundtrack to our lives. A complete mix - that can keep you going when you thought you'd have to stop walking.
So anyway, I thought - in the spirit of missing out on list night, I would put together a list of tracks comprising the OST for this blog! Listen to them while you read and its like I'm there, with you.
Creepy isn't it hahahahah
Track 1 Just a Girl - no doubt (gotta love Gwen S, before she SOLD OUT)
Track 2 All Is Full of Love - Bjork. its just beautiful and chilled
Track 3 Street Spirit - Radiohead
Track 4 - Umbrella - Manic Street Preachers
Track 5 - Starlight - Muse
Track 6 - Slide Away - Oasis
Track 7 - Come As You Are - Nirvana
Track 8 - The Ballad of Lucy Jordan - Marianne Faithful (from the end of Thelma + Louise)Track 9 - Looks Like Chaplin - Stereophonics
Track 10 - Gimme Shelter - Rolling Stones
Track 11 - Queer - Garbage
Track 12 - Road Rage - Catatonia
Track 13 - .......... stupid girl garbage
I guess really thats the soundtrack to me. And to sum it up, the most romantic thing that was never said to me - *I wanna be the song you hear in your head* - U2.
Thats all for now. Thank you and good night.
Stupidgirl has left the building
Anyway getting slightly sidetracked by shoes here. Funny how most women can be divided into tribes by their preference for different accessories. I am most definitely a shoe woman. At last count I had around 30 pairs. But that's nothing - I have a friend who has over 75 pairs and her husband is now forcing her to operate a 1 in 1 out policy with regards to new shoes. How cruel is that!
(.....continuing this post 1 week later.....) this blog post just does not want to be written.... And I really must focus after allowing myself to get side-tracked by shoes. The point of this post was..... (big mental *hoick* back on track)..... the songs that get stuck in our heads - hence the catwalk ramble.....you gotta have good music to walk to.
A random assortment for me, in my head, over the last few days has been......
Fernando - Abba
Born Slippy - Underworld
Whole Again - Radioactive Pussy (if you can't work out which band this is.....)
Hey Baby - No Doubt (NOT f****king DJ Otzi)
I Dreamed a Dream - also Abba..... this is thanks to that bloody BGT Scottish woman being everywhere, although yes, I do know she sang the Les Mis one
Superman - Stereophonics
Keep On Running - Spencer David Group - this one is from going to the marathon to cheer on my dad (impressively for an old git he beat Jordan + Peter Andre)
Anyway it is funny isn't it how songs just get stuck in our heads. And sometimes most inappropriately so. Ppppppppoker Face has frequently been in my head as I walk in the door to work purely because the loo paper masquerading as daily news has had coverage of Lady Blah blah's previous wardrobe trauma. So there I am singing Ppppppoker Face all day.
Another highly addictive track - I Kissed A Girl - Katie Perry. Now I am not slagging off Katie Perry, I love her. I think she is a lovely little poppette. But a ditty about lipstick lesbianism is not something you really want going round and round and round in your head ad infinitum during a finance meeting.
And all these songs going round in our heads make up the soundtrack to our lives. A complete mix - that can keep you going when you thought you'd have to stop walking.
So anyway, I thought - in the spirit of missing out on list night, I would put together a list of tracks comprising the OST for this blog! Listen to them while you read and its like I'm there, with you.
Creepy isn't it hahahahah
Track 1 Just a Girl - no doubt (gotta love Gwen S, before she SOLD OUT)
Track 2 All Is Full of Love - Bjork. its just beautiful and chilled
Track 3 Street Spirit - Radiohead
Track 4 - Umbrella - Manic Street Preachers
Track 5 - Starlight - Muse
Track 6 - Slide Away - Oasis
Track 7 - Come As You Are - Nirvana
Track 8 - The Ballad of Lucy Jordan - Marianne Faithful (from the end of Thelma + Louise)Track 9 - Looks Like Chaplin - Stereophonics
Track 10 - Gimme Shelter - Rolling Stones
Track 11 - Queer - Garbage
Track 12 - Road Rage - Catatonia
Track 13 - .......... stupid girl garbage
I guess really thats the soundtrack to me. And to sum it up, the most romantic thing that was never said to me - *I wanna be the song you hear in your head* - U2.
Thats all for now. Thank you and good night.
Stupidgirl has left the building
21 Apr 2009
Does "anal-retentive" have a hyphen? Perfection and other irrationalities
In case you're unsure, the quote that provided the title for this post is from *Alison Bechdel, 1990 Dykes to Watch Out For calendar* So yes folks, I'm back after my weeklong writers block affliction. Along with my dire taste in quotes and lesbian jokes. Please don't be offended all you public-morality/Mary Whitehouse types. Although I doubt there are many of you reading this blog!
I hope you've missed me. My lack of blogging has been pointed out - I have been publicly shamed. Although only a wedding forum, so its not that bad. I've just not had
a) Any genius ideas for stuff to write about on here
b) been busy
c) Had a small and not serious trip to A+E
But I haven't forgotten about you bloggettes (my word for blog fans), and don't think I don't love you anymore. I have LOTS (well some, about 3 really) of new ideas for blog posts. And today's post is NOT about lesbians, and its NOT about quotes. It's about perfection and worrying. As they tend to go perfectly manicured hand in bitten nails hand.
Yes, perfect, that thing we all strive to be. And clearly, I am sooooooooo wayyyyyyy perfect. Not. And that's what I worry about.
No really, I am exhausted. It seems that everywhere currently there seems to be this idea of the perfect woman. And really, you know what, I don't think she exists and you fucking well can't have it all. It's not possible. Not without losing part of yourself and possibly your sanity at the same time.
There are several areas in my life that I worry about being *perfect* in, but I can't carry on like this because firstly I will become even more self-obsessed than i currently am, secondly I'll have a nervous breakdown and thirdly - most importantly - my friends will get bored of me whinging on and on, and then one of the things I worry about (having no friends) will have happened anyway. And breathe........
So, I worry about being a good friend a lot. Have I called so-and-so and checked how they are and what they're up to, have we been for a drink, do I monopolise the conversation with wedding talk, are they happy - am I there for them enough, have I been to their house too many times and is it their turn to come to mine (just reading this makes me think, what? am I 5 years old?!), do I owe them a drink, do I talk over the telly too much (often DVDs to watch with friends are selected on the basis that we can talk over them and not miss the plot)... etc etc on and on ad infinitum. Yes, I know, I think too much. In my defence (cue the violins) I didn't really have any friends at all until I went to uni, was bullied etc etc yadda yadda, so i really value my friends now.
And onto my next source of worrying. Being a perfect/good girlfriend. Yes, anyone who is any kind of feminist is hitting me on the head with a big mallet made of recycled beauty magazines I know - I have read my Germaine Greer and grown in my body hair (on occassion, not currently). I don't know why I have this perfect 1950's girlfriend in my head. But as Jerry Hall famously said * to keep a man, you must be a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom* - and for some reason I can't get this idea out of my head. I want to have a perfect body, be a fantastic (healthy) cook and keep the house looking lovely. Plus doing all my normal stuff like blogging, talking to the people who live in my computer, reading, faffing around, seeing friends, attending the gym (part of the perfection malarkey) oh, and also going to work and sleeping. I am not sure it is possible to do all of this. Or even sensible. I am not entirely sure that SB even cares how toned my bottom is, as long as he is the only person who gets to touch it. But I still want to be perfect.
My quest for the *perfect* body is slightly verging on being a little unhealthy I think. I once saw a quote on a piece of A-Level art coursework (in context, this piece of art was created by a melodramatic teenage student at a private all girls day school in the centre of London - I hasten to add that this student was not me) Anyway the quote said *thin enough is invisible*. I am not sure what that means, but it rings a bell with me.
I like to be thin enough that I can feel my ribcage on my back and on my front. I know that's not entirely normal and/or healthy. And its not a state that my body often exists in. But I don't have any eating disorders (as any IRL friends will testify) and I don't over-exercise. But generally I exist in a state of war with my body. I hate it, it hates me. Occasionally I love it and it shows that it returns my affections by not looking fat in my skinny jeans. I keep reminding myself that my body has functions and uses - it's not just a living breathing oversized coat hanger. But it's hard to remember that given the images of women in the media that we see every day. My ideal body is not mega skinny with huge boobs. It's more of an athlete's body - completely toned and slightly sculpted. But with boobs. Gisele Bundschen's body is perfection to me. As is Liv Tylers. Weirdly, I'm not a Kate Moss fan. She's not sexy, she has the body of a 7 year old girl. With a coke habit. Yuck.
I am not sure I will ever stop being obsessed with my body and how I look. In fact, if I'm really honest, I am dreading being pregnant because I won't be able to pretend I have control over my body shape any longer. And I won't be able to go to the gym with a new born baby and run off all my pregnancy fat. I know, it's not normal and selfish. And it is about control.
To be honest, I am not even sure what would happen if I did achieve my idea of the perfect body. It's not like all my friends or SB would suddenly notice. I'm fairly slim anyway. So what's the point. I'm not going to be on the cover of a magazine, or win model competitions or be asked to post naked for anything. It's a completely pointless aim. But it allows me to retain control over one thing in my life. And for the record I'm a size 10-12, 5"8 and weigh around 10 stone.
I won't get started on how I feel about my face. That's a whole separate post worth of angst.
I'm not so sure this post is that funny anymore. Damn.....I worry also about a mix of the following:
1) Whether I am crap at my job. That's it in a nutshell. For some reason, in my weird + twisted psyche, how good I am at my job is a reflection of how I am as a person. Which I know is complete bollocks. I didn't say I was rational
2) Whether I am just a bit dim. I did a difficult degree, although I achieved a Desmond (aka a party degree). And now I think that my brain is just atrophying. I could translate Homer. Now I can barely decipher a takeaway menu. I completely identify with Bridget Jones and her *chechnyaaaaaaaaaaa* and *throwing matches* moments. I do read the papers, really. And I do know what's happening in the world.
3) If I will ever be able to eat food that normal people consider spicy, instead of oversensitive little me.
4) If I will ever be a tidy and clean person around the house. Surely this gene kicks in once you have children (clutches at straws)
You know what, that's enough self-indulgent tosh for one night. But it was quite cathartic writing all that down. Night-night bloggettes. Thank you and good night.
Stupidgirl has left the building.
I hope you've missed me. My lack of blogging has been pointed out - I have been publicly shamed. Although only a wedding forum, so its not that bad. I've just not had
a) Any genius ideas for stuff to write about on here
b) been busy
c) Had a small and not serious trip to A+E
But I haven't forgotten about you bloggettes (my word for blog fans), and don't think I don't love you anymore. I have LOTS (well some, about 3 really) of new ideas for blog posts. And today's post is NOT about lesbians, and its NOT about quotes. It's about perfection and worrying. As they tend to go perfectly manicured hand in bitten nails hand.
Yes, perfect, that thing we all strive to be. And clearly, I am sooooooooo wayyyyyyy perfect. Not. And that's what I worry about.
No really, I am exhausted. It seems that everywhere currently there seems to be this idea of the perfect woman. And really, you know what, I don't think she exists and you fucking well can't have it all. It's not possible. Not without losing part of yourself and possibly your sanity at the same time.
There are several areas in my life that I worry about being *perfect* in, but I can't carry on like this because firstly I will become even more self-obsessed than i currently am, secondly I'll have a nervous breakdown and thirdly - most importantly - my friends will get bored of me whinging on and on, and then one of the things I worry about (having no friends) will have happened anyway. And breathe........
So, I worry about being a good friend a lot. Have I called so-and-so and checked how they are and what they're up to, have we been for a drink, do I monopolise the conversation with wedding talk, are they happy - am I there for them enough, have I been to their house too many times and is it their turn to come to mine (just reading this makes me think, what? am I 5 years old?!), do I owe them a drink, do I talk over the telly too much (often DVDs to watch with friends are selected on the basis that we can talk over them and not miss the plot)... etc etc on and on ad infinitum. Yes, I know, I think too much. In my defence (cue the violins) I didn't really have any friends at all until I went to uni, was bullied etc etc yadda yadda, so i really value my friends now.
And onto my next source of worrying. Being a perfect/good girlfriend. Yes, anyone who is any kind of feminist is hitting me on the head with a big mallet made of recycled beauty magazines I know - I have read my Germaine Greer and grown in my body hair (on occassion, not currently). I don't know why I have this perfect 1950's girlfriend in my head. But as Jerry Hall famously said * to keep a man, you must be a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom* - and for some reason I can't get this idea out of my head. I want to have a perfect body, be a fantastic (healthy) cook and keep the house looking lovely. Plus doing all my normal stuff like blogging, talking to the people who live in my computer, reading, faffing around, seeing friends, attending the gym (part of the perfection malarkey) oh, and also going to work and sleeping. I am not sure it is possible to do all of this. Or even sensible. I am not entirely sure that SB even cares how toned my bottom is, as long as he is the only person who gets to touch it. But I still want to be perfect.
My quest for the *perfect* body is slightly verging on being a little unhealthy I think. I once saw a quote on a piece of A-Level art coursework (in context, this piece of art was created by a melodramatic teenage student at a private all girls day school in the centre of London - I hasten to add that this student was not me) Anyway the quote said *thin enough is invisible*. I am not sure what that means, but it rings a bell with me.
I like to be thin enough that I can feel my ribcage on my back and on my front. I know that's not entirely normal and/or healthy. And its not a state that my body often exists in. But I don't have any eating disorders (as any IRL friends will testify) and I don't over-exercise. But generally I exist in a state of war with my body. I hate it, it hates me. Occasionally I love it and it shows that it returns my affections by not looking fat in my skinny jeans. I keep reminding myself that my body has functions and uses - it's not just a living breathing oversized coat hanger. But it's hard to remember that given the images of women in the media that we see every day. My ideal body is not mega skinny with huge boobs. It's more of an athlete's body - completely toned and slightly sculpted. But with boobs. Gisele Bundschen's body is perfection to me. As is Liv Tylers. Weirdly, I'm not a Kate Moss fan. She's not sexy, she has the body of a 7 year old girl. With a coke habit. Yuck.
I am not sure I will ever stop being obsessed with my body and how I look. In fact, if I'm really honest, I am dreading being pregnant because I won't be able to pretend I have control over my body shape any longer. And I won't be able to go to the gym with a new born baby and run off all my pregnancy fat. I know, it's not normal and selfish. And it is about control.
To be honest, I am not even sure what would happen if I did achieve my idea of the perfect body. It's not like all my friends or SB would suddenly notice. I'm fairly slim anyway. So what's the point. I'm not going to be on the cover of a magazine, or win model competitions or be asked to post naked for anything. It's a completely pointless aim. But it allows me to retain control over one thing in my life. And for the record I'm a size 10-12, 5"8 and weigh around 10 stone.
I won't get started on how I feel about my face. That's a whole separate post worth of angst.
I'm not so sure this post is that funny anymore. Damn.....I worry also about a mix of the following:
1) Whether I am crap at my job. That's it in a nutshell. For some reason, in my weird + twisted psyche, how good I am at my job is a reflection of how I am as a person. Which I know is complete bollocks. I didn't say I was rational
2) Whether I am just a bit dim. I did a difficult degree, although I achieved a Desmond (aka a party degree). And now I think that my brain is just atrophying. I could translate Homer. Now I can barely decipher a takeaway menu. I completely identify with Bridget Jones and her *chechnyaaaaaaaaaaa* and *throwing matches* moments. I do read the papers, really. And I do know what's happening in the world.
3) If I will ever be able to eat food that normal people consider spicy, instead of oversensitive little me.
4) If I will ever be a tidy and clean person around the house. Surely this gene kicks in once you have children (clutches at straws)
You know what, that's enough self-indulgent tosh for one night. But it was quite cathartic writing all that down. Night-night bloggettes. Thank you and good night.
Stupidgirl has left the building.
13 Apr 2009
A Day Late & A Dollar Short
I think you should know that I am always, reliably, late. Hence list day being today instead of yesterday. But easter monday is practically a sunday in anycase. Still in Wales - albeit with sunburn now. yes, really, sunburn. Instead of looking like an undead creature, I am now still undead looking with patches of red.
Onto the lists. Was going to do a *comedy* list of places SB + I are NOT going on Honeymoon. Except I might actually cry. With some of the ideas we are coming up with, it would appear that we have not met each other before, instead of dating for 7 years. In 7 years, I don't think I've ever mentioned hiking as a hobby. Yet, top of SB's list for the honeymoon is - you guessed it - a hiking trip. How romantic. (please I am sure there are a whole load of you out there going *well, a hiking honeymoon would be romantic, is she crazy* - but if so, I would advise you to reconsider your knowledge about the author of this blog) Just realised that the above sentence assumes there are multiple readers of this blog - who are not people that actually know me.
Anyway, it appears we're going to Innsbruck for two weeks. I can live out my Heidi/Chalet girls ambitions/wear a dirndl (whatever that is)/buy SB lederhosen and SB can go trekking and swimming and ogle girls in dirndls. Plus, its cheap as it's out of ski season.
Anyway, onto actual list. List of favourite books. this could go on for awhile. When I worked in a bookshop I frequently got told off for hiding behind the restocking cart and reading......
1) The Handmaids Tale - Margaret Atwood. Offred and her tale of oppression is, in my opinion, one of the most unique and original novels ever written. If you are even remotely interested in feminism and the repression of women you should read this book. It is fantastically gripping - and I don't even like utopian literature - and completely mind expanding. The film is pretty good too - with the now sadly deceased Natasha Richardson in it. READ THIS BOOK
2) The Secret History - Donna Tartt. An amazing novel, even more amazing given it's a debut novel. Set in an elite private college in upstate New England, the story revolves around the antics of some snobbish, intellectual Classics scholars - and how a single action blows apart their carefully hidden lives. Horrifying and amusing by turns, this book will keep you gripped until the end. However, bear in mind, this is not an average thriller but a challenging read that will keep you going until the last page. Definitely one for long winter evenings with a big mug of hot chocolate.
3) American Psycho - Bret Easton Ellis. Not for thos with weak stomachs. The premise of the book revolves around Patrick Bateman, our charismatic, handsome narrator. Set on Wall Street in 80's New York, Bateman goes on a nihilist, violent killing spree across his chums, colleagues and unfortunate others that get in his path. Or does he? Through out the book he hammers home the point that Yuppie culture is shallow, selfish and pointless. And yet we are treated to the inner workings of Patrick's mind - does he really commit horrendous acts of violence - or are they just the sick fantasies of his twisted mind. This book really proves that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover - and that you can never really know someone. The book is also incredibly funny - and watch out for Patrick's endless pages of monologues about the band Genesis. Also a great film starring Patrick Bale.
*** It is worth noting that Donna Tartt was at college with, and allegedly dated Bret Easton Ellis. Apparently he is the inspiration for one of the characters in The Secret History but I'll let you decide which one.
4) Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier. "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again". A wonderful gothic romance set in a beautiful but creepy mansion in Cornwall. Narrated by the nameless second wife of Maxim De Winter, it revolves around the mysterious death of Maxim's first wife - the legendary Rebecca and the repercussions this has across his second marriage. Ultimately tragic and completely compelling, this book is a great read for a holiday - and certainly the main characters are completely unforgettable - as anyone who has seen the fantastic Laurence Olivier film will testify.
5) The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold. A dreamy read, narrated by Susie Salmon (who is brutally raped + killed at the start of the book), from heaven as she watches over her family, friends, killer and the detective working on her case. A beautiful, wonderful book that really made me think about my concepts of heaven and life after death - and equally how a family and a community survive and carry on after a violent death. I won't say anymore, but if you chose one book from my list to read, this should be it. You can read this one anywhere.
6) The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini. This book has had a lot of publicity recently - as has his second novel Thousand Splendid Suns. As quite rightly. Both novels tell of life under the Taliban in 70's + 80's Afghanistan, from a male point of view (Kite Runner) and female point of view (Suns) and are essentially coming of age novels. They are both eye opening in terms of the subject matter, particularly as our views of the Taliban/Afghanistan are so coloured by the media. Easy to get into, and gripping and emotional to the last page, again these are books you can read anywhere. The movie of the Kite Runner is also fantastic - but take some tissues!
7) Atonement - Ian McEwan. A fantastic enthralling, romantic, tragic novel told from multiple points of view. which most of you are probably familliar with from the recent film starring Keira Knightley (eurghhhhh but lovely dress) and the ever foxy James McAvoy (yum). A tragic chain of events is set in place when 13 year old Briony Tallis witnessed an event and completely miscontrues it. Set during in the 1940's and then the early 1990's, this novel brings to life the difficulties of living during WW2 and the social niceties of the upper class.
8) Fairy Tale - Alice Thomas Ellis. Quirky and unusual, Fairy Tale is simultaneously bizarre and humourous -and a great introduction to Ellis' unique writing style. Seventeen year old Eloise - and her lover Simon, have moved to a remote cottage in the Welsh countryside. Strange events start to happen to Eloise and 4 men in suits appear at the cottage - but who are they and what do they want? In the second half of the novel Eloise returns from a walk with a baby in ancient wicker cradle - but where has the baby come from, what does it have to do with the men in suits - and what will happen to Eloise? Fantastically atmospheric and entertaining, this is a gem of a novel I discovered long forgetten on a library shelf - and loved it so much I bought my own copy. I've never met anyone else who's read it, but you can buy a copy on Amazon.
9) Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell. A fantastic belle-epoque epic. I don't think there is anything I can say about this that hasn't already been said. From the opening page with Scarlett complaining that she has nothing to wear (!), to the very end "Tomorrow is another day" after Rhett has left and Scarlett is flung across the staircase. I can't read this book without picturing the gorgeous Vivien Leigh. A vintage heroine for modern times and a surprisingly easy to read epic - I first read this when I was 14.
10) Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture - Douglas Coupland. I couldn't really not have this. It's where I got the inspiration for my blog name from. I first selected this book in the library as it has a bright pink jacket. So it stands out a mile. The anthem of the jilted generation - the over educated and under employed, the main characters in this book have turned away from the usual McJobs and opted for a life in the Californian desert. Within the confines of drugs, heavy drinking and a liberal sprinkling of irony, Andy, Dag and Claire reveal their lives to each other and the reader. Cleverly annotated with footnotes and margin illustrations, the writing is erudite, fresh (occassionally glib) with lots of lethargic grungey rage peeping through the cracks.
And the writing on this blog is crap compared to all the books mentioned above. I have successfully terrified myself into never writing a book. In fact I need to go and have a lie down. Well actually, eat my Easter Monday roast beef. But never mind. Thank you and goodnight.
Stupidgirl has left the building
Onto the lists. Was going to do a *comedy* list of places SB + I are NOT going on Honeymoon. Except I might actually cry. With some of the ideas we are coming up with, it would appear that we have not met each other before, instead of dating for 7 years. In 7 years, I don't think I've ever mentioned hiking as a hobby. Yet, top of SB's list for the honeymoon is - you guessed it - a hiking trip. How romantic. (please I am sure there are a whole load of you out there going *well, a hiking honeymoon would be romantic, is she crazy* - but if so, I would advise you to reconsider your knowledge about the author of this blog) Just realised that the above sentence assumes there are multiple readers of this blog - who are not people that actually know me.
Anyway, it appears we're going to Innsbruck for two weeks. I can live out my Heidi/Chalet girls ambitions/wear a dirndl (whatever that is)/buy SB lederhosen and SB can go trekking and swimming and ogle girls in dirndls. Plus, its cheap as it's out of ski season.
Anyway, onto actual list. List of favourite books. this could go on for awhile. When I worked in a bookshop I frequently got told off for hiding behind the restocking cart and reading......
1) The Handmaids Tale - Margaret Atwood. Offred and her tale of oppression is, in my opinion, one of the most unique and original novels ever written. If you are even remotely interested in feminism and the repression of women you should read this book. It is fantastically gripping - and I don't even like utopian literature - and completely mind expanding. The film is pretty good too - with the now sadly deceased Natasha Richardson in it. READ THIS BOOK
2) The Secret History - Donna Tartt. An amazing novel, even more amazing given it's a debut novel. Set in an elite private college in upstate New England, the story revolves around the antics of some snobbish, intellectual Classics scholars - and how a single action blows apart their carefully hidden lives. Horrifying and amusing by turns, this book will keep you gripped until the end. However, bear in mind, this is not an average thriller but a challenging read that will keep you going until the last page. Definitely one for long winter evenings with a big mug of hot chocolate.
3) American Psycho - Bret Easton Ellis. Not for thos with weak stomachs. The premise of the book revolves around Patrick Bateman, our charismatic, handsome narrator. Set on Wall Street in 80's New York, Bateman goes on a nihilist, violent killing spree across his chums, colleagues and unfortunate others that get in his path. Or does he? Through out the book he hammers home the point that Yuppie culture is shallow, selfish and pointless. And yet we are treated to the inner workings of Patrick's mind - does he really commit horrendous acts of violence - or are they just the sick fantasies of his twisted mind. This book really proves that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover - and that you can never really know someone. The book is also incredibly funny - and watch out for Patrick's endless pages of monologues about the band Genesis. Also a great film starring Patrick Bale.
*** It is worth noting that Donna Tartt was at college with, and allegedly dated Bret Easton Ellis. Apparently he is the inspiration for one of the characters in The Secret History but I'll let you decide which one.
4) Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier. "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again". A wonderful gothic romance set in a beautiful but creepy mansion in Cornwall. Narrated by the nameless second wife of Maxim De Winter, it revolves around the mysterious death of Maxim's first wife - the legendary Rebecca and the repercussions this has across his second marriage. Ultimately tragic and completely compelling, this book is a great read for a holiday - and certainly the main characters are completely unforgettable - as anyone who has seen the fantastic Laurence Olivier film will testify.
5) The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold. A dreamy read, narrated by Susie Salmon (who is brutally raped + killed at the start of the book), from heaven as she watches over her family, friends, killer and the detective working on her case. A beautiful, wonderful book that really made me think about my concepts of heaven and life after death - and equally how a family and a community survive and carry on after a violent death. I won't say anymore, but if you chose one book from my list to read, this should be it. You can read this one anywhere.
6) The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini. This book has had a lot of publicity recently - as has his second novel Thousand Splendid Suns. As quite rightly. Both novels tell of life under the Taliban in 70's + 80's Afghanistan, from a male point of view (Kite Runner) and female point of view (Suns) and are essentially coming of age novels. They are both eye opening in terms of the subject matter, particularly as our views of the Taliban/Afghanistan are so coloured by the media. Easy to get into, and gripping and emotional to the last page, again these are books you can read anywhere. The movie of the Kite Runner is also fantastic - but take some tissues!
7) Atonement - Ian McEwan. A fantastic enthralling, romantic, tragic novel told from multiple points of view. which most of you are probably familliar with from the recent film starring Keira Knightley (eurghhhhh but lovely dress) and the ever foxy James McAvoy (yum). A tragic chain of events is set in place when 13 year old Briony Tallis witnessed an event and completely miscontrues it. Set during in the 1940's and then the early 1990's, this novel brings to life the difficulties of living during WW2 and the social niceties of the upper class.
8) Fairy Tale - Alice Thomas Ellis. Quirky and unusual, Fairy Tale is simultaneously bizarre and humourous -and a great introduction to Ellis' unique writing style. Seventeen year old Eloise - and her lover Simon, have moved to a remote cottage in the Welsh countryside. Strange events start to happen to Eloise and 4 men in suits appear at the cottage - but who are they and what do they want? In the second half of the novel Eloise returns from a walk with a baby in ancient wicker cradle - but where has the baby come from, what does it have to do with the men in suits - and what will happen to Eloise? Fantastically atmospheric and entertaining, this is a gem of a novel I discovered long forgetten on a library shelf - and loved it so much I bought my own copy. I've never met anyone else who's read it, but you can buy a copy on Amazon.
9) Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell. A fantastic belle-epoque epic. I don't think there is anything I can say about this that hasn't already been said. From the opening page with Scarlett complaining that she has nothing to wear (!), to the very end "Tomorrow is another day" after Rhett has left and Scarlett is flung across the staircase. I can't read this book without picturing the gorgeous Vivien Leigh. A vintage heroine for modern times and a surprisingly easy to read epic - I first read this when I was 14.
10) Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture - Douglas Coupland. I couldn't really not have this. It's where I got the inspiration for my blog name from. I first selected this book in the library as it has a bright pink jacket. So it stands out a mile. The anthem of the jilted generation - the over educated and under employed, the main characters in this book have turned away from the usual McJobs and opted for a life in the Californian desert. Within the confines of drugs, heavy drinking and a liberal sprinkling of irony, Andy, Dag and Claire reveal their lives to each other and the reader. Cleverly annotated with footnotes and margin illustrations, the writing is erudite, fresh (occassionally glib) with lots of lethargic grungey rage peeping through the cracks.
And the writing on this blog is crap compared to all the books mentioned above. I have successfully terrified myself into never writing a book. In fact I need to go and have a lie down. Well actually, eat my Easter Monday roast beef. But never mind. Thank you and goodnight.
Stupidgirl has left the building
11 Apr 2009
The Joys of Spring
Well, I know I normally attempt to be funny on this blog. Regardless of how successful I am at this, I don't think I'll be much good at being funny tonight as I am all blissed out in the countryside and have nothing to take the piss out of. I don't think so anyway.
After being a grumpy biatch all week - well it has been a tad stressful, I took myself off for a lovely walk in the hills this morning. Up at the crack of dawn (and what a lovely crack it is - sorry, couldn't resist some filth), the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the birds were singing their little hearts out in the trees. I didn't even need my iPod for company. Just wandering up a country lane to a lovely little village at the top of a hill with 2 pubs (!), a church, no corner shop and amazing views of the Welsh countryside. I feel that my behaviour seems far too normal here, so you should know that I indulged in a little accidental animal scaring...well how am I supposed to know that cute foals sticking their heads through hedges don't like having a flash go off in their face. Death by mamma horse is not something I had planned for my easter weekend. I then had the shit scared out of me by daddy horse on the other side of lane doing the horse requivalent of barking loudly at me. Before you report me to the RSPCA, you should know that a bunch of sheep then scared the crap out of ME. Further down the lane, I was admiring the cute lambs frolicking around (if thats not a word made for sheep, I dont know what is), when all the sheep in the whole goddamn field turned as one (do they have fucking sheep radar or what) and glared at me. Now i've not been glared at by 1 sheep before let alone an entire field full. Although perhaps it's hard-wired into them to get shirty with anyone who looks like they might be coming to take their lamb babies off for slaughter. But still it was bloody alarming - the sheep version of The Birds perhaps. I was mildly alarmed that a farmer would appear and or I would be starring in my own version of Eden Lake.
I have also been to the beach today. Also blissful, and crucially, lacked any livestock scaring. I did however fear I was going to be the first person to die (or at least suffer a bruised coccyx) from falling off a 3 foot cliff whilst clambering over rocks. Or drowning in 3 ins of water in a rock pool. I certainly have a rather tragic case of wind burn and sea-breezed hair (sadly this does not involve vodka and cranberry juice). The only thing missing from our 1hour long walk on the beach was an ice cream. Actually, I've never understood why someone decided that a rich sticky creamy sweet was an ideal match for a windy gritty area. Someone illogical, that's who. But still you can't beat a lovely Mr Whippy with a flake, I am normally a Green & Black's/Ben & Jerry's fan but when it comes to the beach, only a 99 will do. Except we didn't have one. I feel very hard done by now.
The day was finished off with a lovely trip to a *proper* pub and a pint of cider. By which I mean a strongbow. I know strongbow is scuzzy cheap cider, but I never got hammered on cider as teenager - I was toughened up on tequila shots, drunk illegally outside under-18's discos - cider was for wussies. So i only recently discovered the wonder that is cider - luminous orange magners or pee-coloured strongbow, either is good, I'm not fussy.
I am sure my day of rural bliss really makes for a good post, but tune in the same time tomorrow for this sunday's list. Thank you and goodnight.
Stupidgirl has left the building
After being a grumpy biatch all week - well it has been a tad stressful, I took myself off for a lovely walk in the hills this morning. Up at the crack of dawn (and what a lovely crack it is - sorry, couldn't resist some filth), the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the birds were singing their little hearts out in the trees. I didn't even need my iPod for company. Just wandering up a country lane to a lovely little village at the top of a hill with 2 pubs (!), a church, no corner shop and amazing views of the Welsh countryside. I feel that my behaviour seems far too normal here, so you should know that I indulged in a little accidental animal scaring...well how am I supposed to know that cute foals sticking their heads through hedges don't like having a flash go off in their face. Death by mamma horse is not something I had planned for my easter weekend. I then had the shit scared out of me by daddy horse on the other side of lane doing the horse requivalent of barking loudly at me. Before you report me to the RSPCA, you should know that a bunch of sheep then scared the crap out of ME. Further down the lane, I was admiring the cute lambs frolicking around (if thats not a word made for sheep, I dont know what is), when all the sheep in the whole goddamn field turned as one (do they have fucking sheep radar or what) and glared at me. Now i've not been glared at by 1 sheep before let alone an entire field full. Although perhaps it's hard-wired into them to get shirty with anyone who looks like they might be coming to take their lamb babies off for slaughter. But still it was bloody alarming - the sheep version of The Birds perhaps. I was mildly alarmed that a farmer would appear and or I would be starring in my own version of Eden Lake.
I have also been to the beach today. Also blissful, and crucially, lacked any livestock scaring. I did however fear I was going to be the first person to die (or at least suffer a bruised coccyx) from falling off a 3 foot cliff whilst clambering over rocks. Or drowning in 3 ins of water in a rock pool. I certainly have a rather tragic case of wind burn and sea-breezed hair (sadly this does not involve vodka and cranberry juice). The only thing missing from our 1hour long walk on the beach was an ice cream. Actually, I've never understood why someone decided that a rich sticky creamy sweet was an ideal match for a windy gritty area. Someone illogical, that's who. But still you can't beat a lovely Mr Whippy with a flake, I am normally a Green & Black's/Ben & Jerry's fan but when it comes to the beach, only a 99 will do. Except we didn't have one. I feel very hard done by now.
The day was finished off with a lovely trip to a *proper* pub and a pint of cider. By which I mean a strongbow. I know strongbow is scuzzy cheap cider, but I never got hammered on cider as teenager - I was toughened up on tequila shots, drunk illegally outside under-18's discos - cider was for wussies. So i only recently discovered the wonder that is cider - luminous orange magners or pee-coloured strongbow, either is good, I'm not fussy.
I am sure my day of rural bliss really makes for a good post, but tune in the same time tomorrow for this sunday's list. Thank you and goodnight.
Stupidgirl has left the building
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