I'm Back!

It's been a while since my last post. Mostly because I am the laziest person on the planet and also because I've been absolutely swamped with uni life! Too many essays for my liking! I thought today would be a good day to get back into it though. So here goes!


Walking through Liverpool today with my flatmates, I realised something quite devastating. I have become what my 14 year old emo-self (yeah that's right) would have literally LOATHED. I was of course, walking towards the sun bed shop to take my UV tanning bed virginity. This, teamed with my plan to get some form of acrylic nail (no french tips, don't worry I won't go that far) and my already highlighted and dyed to oblivion hair all equals semi-plastic. Fake. One of those girls that you hate. Next thing I'll be a desperate scousewife! Emo me is so upset with modern me. I still can't get my head around how much people change within such a short amount of time. 5 years from emo with dark dark massive fringed hair, neon pink leopard print tshirt, black skinny jeans and wannabe vans. Straight to an attempt at a tan, painted manicured nails and well-kept eyebrows. Scousewife is going a little too far though, even for me!


Speaking of scousewife, I watched the most disturbing programme on channel 4 the other day- "Sex, lies and rinsing guys". Which is all about women who exploit rich men for well, their money. Simply by having fake boobs and bleached hair (with I must admit acrylic nails and well-kept eyebrows), these women are able to manipulate the rich men that they meet into buying them designer shoes, bags, jewellery and EVEN paying their house bills. Not so sexy- "hey dan, could you do me a favour and pay my gas bill?" < there's some innuendo no one saw coming... But. I must be stopped here. Because the "rinsers" as they like to call themselves (god knows why) don't actually sleep with the men who they rinse- yeah right. Maybe not infront of the cameras ladies? 


Still. Though I personally would never "rinse" someone for gifts, mainly because i'd be rubbish at it, I can't help but be envious of their "free" money. Lately my friends and I have been doing the lottery in a desperate bid for holiday money and nice clothes. Maybe this is a waste of money, but if I've got more chance of being struck by lightening than winning I'll take my chances- I've not been hit yet. Afterall, clearly everyone loves free money! As for my tan- after 6 lovely sunbed minutes I'm still a pale peachy colour- for now I am far from scouseland! 

Happy Women's day!

So once again trusty Google has informed me of an important day in the worldly calendar- today is in fact “international women’s day”. Hooray! Let’s all go and burn our bras and dance naked through the forests as acts of feminism and hippie-like freedom. Or not.

                It seems sad to me how (in my little student bubble anyway) many of these events go unnoticed by those of us who aren’t for example, top notch political activists. When, I ask you was the last time you celebrated St. George’s day? Poor St. George, lost and forgotten. St Patrick however, with his love of Guinness and general drunken chaos has never been forgotten, nor will he ever I pray. Not that I’m actually aware who bonny St Patrick was (I feel ashamed at this fact) but I will quite happily raise a glass or 10 to him every St Paddy’s that comes around.

                Back to International women’s day. A quick stop on the Wikipedia page has informed me that 2012 women’s day is all about empowering women as well as celebrating inspirational women in the world. With mother’s day just around the corner, it seems quite fitting. Surely the most inspirational women in most of our lives are the ones around us (hey mum), not to mention those celeb ladies that we all just want to be like- I’m thinking Blake Lively/ Sarah Jessica Parker/ Zooey Deschanel.  There are some women however, who just don’t make the cut. I’m talking about the people you’d rather die than be like, the snog/marry/avoid type. Nice girls, but horrific at the same time.

                Even though these women don’t seem to make the cut, you still have to admit that if you ran into them in the street, you would still feel a little bit of awe. I went to the cinema tonight to take advantage of an orange Wednesday, with my friend Leanne, and who did we bump into? Not one, but 3 cast members of Hollyoaks.  It sounds sad, but when you’re a student who does anything to avoid doing any form of uni work, Hollyoaks is an easy time-filler that becomes strangely addictive. I couldn’t tell you the name of the girl who we call “the annoying Irish one” purely because she has a northern Irish accent and she plays a really whiney character. We were still excited to see her out and about however. When it all comes down to it then, people who we may not even know inspire us in everyday life. Rachael Mcadams played the part of an extremely inspirational woman (the vow is based on a true story which makes it even sadder), and even though the woman whose life story was used for the script is largely unknown to everyone, the fact that she overcame such a massive trauma in her life shows how determined and inspirational women can be (and men of course, but its international women’s day so let’s focus here).

I’ll leave you with this to be inspired (or disturbed) by-skip to about 1 minute in: 

The lovely Sherika. Maybe she likes to celebrate international women’s day by going out naked? Who knows? Oh dearie me… 

             Another Saturday night as a poor student and I find myself once again drawn to “Take me Out” on ITV. I must admit, it’s one of those shows that completely fascinates me. On the dating programme spectrum it seems quite mild (one particular memory I have of teen-hood is visiting a friends house, and watching a programme which resulted in people marrying mystery candidates- hilarious yet worrying I must admit). Back to Britain however; and everything seems to be just a little bit milder- even down to the adverts and the famous ‘watershed’. Why watch ‘Take me out’ then? What satisfaction do I gain from watching a load of over-dressed and over coifed women blurt out hideously embarrassing remarks (think Cilla Black and Blind Date revamped) only to be turned off (light-wise that is, calm down now) by a man who is most probably completely “average”.  I think it all comes down to the mystery of it all. All of the candidates go to the ‘Isle of Fernando’ for their dates, which at times appear to be a little scripted. I can’t help but wonder if it has all been thought out weeks before to give the audience at home the greatest gossip and entertainment. There must be something in this theory- how else would the men sent down the famous lift rehearse their parts? Do the women who take part get paid? Do they get a bonus for going on a date for a complete and utter weirdo? I need answers Paddy McGuiness! Let the Presenter tell the audience! I’m not sure about the rest of Britain, but even though I’m a massive TOWIE fan, I’m sick of the staged fakery of it all.

              A friend made an interesting remark to me which has further disappointed me and waned my love of Paddy. Why is there not a ‘Take me Out’ for women? That question is not as stupid as it sounds, I’m fully aware that women take part in the original show; what I mean is why aren’t there 20+ coifed males waiting eagerly to be picked by an average lady? I’ll answer it for you- it would never happen. Men are simply too proud, impatient, and all of that testosterone would be disastrous in a small space.

COME ON GRACIE!

After all this negativity I must admit I do have a little soft spot for the show and I can’t help but always fight for the underdog contestant. Which brings me to Gracie. Not your conventional ‘beauty’ per say- for one she wears her glasses with pride (I wear specs myself, but come on Gracie, embrace the contact lense so we can see your face love!) and has mentioned a penchant for gravy and veg in ‘a soup’ (?)- on your own there Gracie. She is one contestant that I hope gets a date soon, always smiling and positive, she greets every man with a “hi there!”. 

            Let’s not make Gracie another Lucy, who was infamous for leaving her light on for every single man who came on the show throughout her stint and was left single for 12 weeks running. So, whatever your opinion on McGuiness and his girls, let’s all hope that Gracie gets picked soon. Or Stephanie for that matter, but only because she is ridiculously annoying..

Coasting along nicely..

           Sitting in a stuffy small room dotted with a small selection of students on a crisp afternoon is when I first understood the hierarchy of life. Up until this point, here being the grand old age of 19, I had so far been parented through the “stages” if you will of the life of an average person. We all know the drill- your mum telling you to work hard (in some cases bribing you to work hard- nice tenner easily made on an A on a class test- cheers mum), your teachers, your employers, heck even by those keen kids, you know the type, quiet and reserved, usually in a corner wearing black. Even with all of these events I still didn’t get it. Maybe I should have worked harder, and then I would have been intelligent enough to know what everyone else already understood. I knew I had to get into secondary school (verbal reasoning.. who knew?!), attain the standard GCSEs, A-Levels, and Uni. Of course, I’d then hop right out of the finest University and bag myself a glamorous and well paid job with little effort. Naturally I’d then casually bump into Mr Charming in the lift in work, who would take one look at me, whisk me away on romantic trips and marry me. Such is the fairy tale of life.

             

           I don’t think however, that this is for me. I came to this realisation as I was saying, whilst sat in the dullest seminar, listening for once, to what my lecturer had to say. I’d like to point out at this point, that the lecturer in question looks almost 80% like Hugh Grant, but on a bad day, with glasses, but this was not however, why I was listening so intently. No. I was listening because he mentioned the word “coasters”. Now I know you’re sat there thinking, why on earth was she so intent on learning about a foam placemat; alas, I’m talking about the other type of coaster. The one that everyone knows in life. The guy in the office who rushes deadlines, scrapes it by the skin of his teeth, and just, miraculously succeeds. In this instance, the “coaster” was the university type. The students who don’t take their degrees seriously- guilty- the ones who are just there for the fun of the freedom (and debt)- again, very much guilty. Coincidentally, the ones who could probably make it, but for reasons unknown, just didn’t. The average-joes if you will.

Coast: Noun: The part of the land near the sea; the edge of the land.

Verb:(of a person or vehicle) Move easily without using power.

          And so you see, my problem. Surely, as lecturer Grant so expressively put, if a coaster can successfully graduate from a red-brick university, they can succeed in life. They can, extremely lazily and probably very slowly fulfil the goals that they hoped to achieve, or at least some of them. I admit, that coasting through life is not going to make anyone the best human in the world, but it, apparently, works. So, welcome to the life of the coaster.