Thursday 30 June 2011

LOVE OF LISTS

I saw an article on CNN that said, “15 Things Not to Say to Someone who has RA” (Rheumatoid Arthritis). For those of you pining to know, “oh, my grandmother has it,” is at the top of the list. Apparently for people in their thirties who have it, this is very tiresome to hear. This article caught my eye of course because I love lists. I especially love lists that explain what NOT to say on certain subjects as there are so many tactless individuals out there that are in desperate need of some guidance. In fact, I think there should be a lot more lists out there to guide those failing in the verbal editing department, but that’s me.

So of course, as you knew I would, I thought of a few lists that I thought should be put out there for contention. Numero Uno – "10 Things Not to Say To A Mother" (seemed apropos to my life):

1. 1. Why are you so tired? – Seriously, this is up there with you look fat. Don’t ask why we look tired. The reasons are lengthy and profound. Just nod, say we look beautiful and walk the other way.

2. 2. What do you do all day? – Again, we do plenty; more than plenty. We certainly do not want to justify it, explain it, or relive it.

3. 3. You really should control/quiet your child? – Um, and you need to mind your own business.

4. 4. It’s so unfair to have just one child. (See above)

5. 5. Isn’t that funny, my child has always slept SO well. (Seriously, keep this to yourself).

6. 6. You look good for someone with a child...And you look good for someone with your (or my) foot in your mouth

7. 7. Your child is huge. (And so is your mouth. Pipe down)

8. 8. I knew a “name of your child” in school. He was such an a**hole.

9. 9.I thought labor was a breeze, what about you. (Oh button it, no one likes a show off)

10 10. I can’t believe you’re traveling with a child, that is so unfair to the rest of us. (Don’t get me started)

Let’s see, another list for you men out there that you may want to reference from time to time that will keep you out of trouble: "10 Things Not to Say to Your Girlfriend:"

1. 1. Are you really going to wear that? (Well, I wasn’t sure before, but now, definitely)

2. 2. You look really tired (this one works for anyone really. Just take it OUT of your everyday conversation. Period)

3. 3. Those pants/dress/shirt/tank-top/jumpsuit makes your ass look fat. (I repeat, nothing on us looks fat, never, ever ever)

4. 4. You’re getting your period, aren’t you?

5. 5. Sorry babe, but I forgot your birthday.

6. 6. Let’s just stay in, order a curry and watch Tottenham play Man U (really, you can put any two teams in there and it will work)

7. 7. We’re moving in with my mother.

8. 8. I think time moves so much quicker at your age (yes, my partner actually said this to me, god bless him

9. Oh, sorry, I forgot (seriously, you have to do better than this blanket excuse).

10. She’s hot. (Word to the wise, unless the woman you’re pointing out to us is on fire, it’s better left unsaid).

God I love lists, I could seriously do this all day.

Wednesday 29 June 2011

JE SUIS FATIGUE!

What is it about celebrity starlets and exhaustion? Am I missing something that being a celebrity suddenly became the most exhaustive and arduous job on the planet? And of course it is never just exhaustion – that would be too simple and not nearly sympathetic enough. They throw dehydration and malnourishment onto the excuse pile whenever they find themselves in some precarious situation as if they’re all fighting over food in the middle of some war strewn third world country.

Now I realize a lot of this is spin produced by their PR companies. Sorry, I misspoke, ALL of this is spin, I’m just not sure when exhaustion and co. became the catch all for every screw up a celebrity makes. ‘Sarah Size Two’ was caught shoplifting – she’s tired damn it! ‘Simon-Shags-A Lot’ was caught cheating – he forgot to drink enough water people! ‘Carrie Cant Miss-An-Opening’ was rushed to hospital with stomach pains – pregnancy? Never. She simply forgot to eat her tofu lettuce wrap and was a tad malnourished.

Apparently in celebrity land there are no beds, glasses of water, or stores that contain things called food. Come to think of it, aren’t these otherworldly types supposed to have people that work for them that do all these petty jobs like food shopping and water fetching? Heck, you know Mariah Carey probably has people to spoon feed her while she lounges on her settee – apparently she likes to eat lying down (I actually saw her admit to this on a documentary. She has a lounge chair in the middle of her kitchen).

I suppose the most puzzling thought of all is not that the PR companies think we are all total gullible idiots, but what exactly is it that celebrities are doing that is so darn exhausting? (If we are of course to believe such an excuse). It’s not like they are sweating it out in a coalmine (although something tells me they would if it involved weight loss and appeared ‘method’); as far as I can tell, for actors/actresses in Hollywood there are no ditches to dig, mountains to climb, or sweat shops to work their little fingers to the bone in. In short, they memorize and read lines, go on press tours where they are served, ahem, food and water (!), put up in five star hotels, and work on movie/TV sets with usually a heck of a lot of downtime where they can sit in the posh trailers and contemplate what not to eat.

Okay fine, I’m sure I’m simplifying things, and I’m sure many a celeb works their little protein infused tail off (Beyoncé for instance, she looks like she works damn hard actually; do you see her Glastonbury set? I got tired just watching her move like that), but please spare me how tired and hungry this group of individuals is when they have money in the bank and 300 thread count sheets on their beds the size of Kansas.

Go to sleep for godsakes, and take a sandwich with you!

Monday 27 June 2011

TATTED UP

Jennifer Aniston got her first tattoo recently. It was clearly a slow news day…who am I kidding? It probably beat out ten other stories of note and importance that failed to light up the sensational or gossip meter. Apparently the tattoo is the name of her dog that passed away at fifteen years old. Okay, so this is clearly a loss that has affected her deeply and if you’re going to get a tattoo, I suppose one of honor and remembrance is a fair enough reason. [My mother would of course beg to differ.] There are certainly worse reasons to get tattoos; the most idiotic of course is getting the person you’re dating tattooed on your person somewhere. Seriously, unless you are fifteen years into a marriage (and even then), why tempt fate.

Needless to say, like any defiant teen, I went with my sister when I was 17 years old and got my first tattoo – no it was not my boyfriend’s name - and of course we did not tell either of our parents of our afternoon activity. We were bored and this seemed like the thing to do at the time. I decided that putting a Scorpio on my shoulder was a good promotional tool of sorts – I figured it was only kind to alert the masses of my occasional sting before they got in too close (we’re totally misjudged as a sign I’ll have you know; we're not all bad and certainly mellow with age!). As for my sister, she got some dreadful thing that she regretted as soon as we left the shop – I was partly to blame as she’s usually a fickle shopper and my job is to be the decision maker. Oops, ah well, just a bit of ink.

We were pretty good at hiding them for the first few weeks until my mom caught us coming out of the shower one day and saw our new purchases on our shoulder. I am pretty sure tears were shed. (So sorry Anne). The second tattoo I got was years later and was some feminist statement I was trying to make at the time that failed miserably. Thankfully it’s in a place where I can hide my hippie floral shame. For that one I found some heavily inked specialist in Anaheim that asked me out post inking and we spent the whole evening at the toy store. He had some bizarre star wars figurine addiction. Clearly there was no second date.

Now, I certainly do not live by regret, so for me, the tattoos are there and will be when I’m tottering around like some wrinkly old prune. But my mother, well that’s another story altogether. No fail, for the last 20 years, every time I see her, she either asks me if I want my ‘lobster’ removed, as she calls it; tells me about a new treatment that removes tattoos, or scoffs at my tattoo as I walk by with that look of, ‘please oh please either remove it or cover it up.’

I suppose as a parent now, I get it. Watching your child permanently deface itself is probably not an easy thing and would perhaps get me all riled up, especially if he decided he was going for the Motley Crue look (please don't sweetheart). Unless of course the King wrote I LOVE MOM across his back, then hey, at least the kid has sense!

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