Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Egoist or Voyeur?

I have decided that bloggers fall into two categories: egoists and voyeurs. I, for example, am an egoist.


Egoists are in the most extreme cases, people who are deeply in love with themselves, relish the smell of their own farts, laugh at their own jokes, post pictures of their mangy cats and would marry themselves if they could. Many male egoists enjoy writing blogs that showcase their sexual prowess, the size of their member (at least the size of a marrow) and recounting unpleasant sexual details about the dozens of women they have satisfied. Many of them happily combine being a sexual god with spending twelve hours a day with their pants around their ankles cruising the blogosphere. Female egoists who don't post pics of their cats often post pictures of their back and front bottoms and yes, sometimes even their cat flaps.


Voyeurs are socially inadequate individuals who believe that blogging is the equivalent of a social life and who enjoy obsessively stalking visiting the blogs of attractive strangers.

Voyeurs often feel they 'know' the bloggers they worship. But do they really? Probably not. Blogging seems to be about wearing one's heart on one's sleeve, but after you do it for a while you realize it has very little to do with revealing the truth. I think blogging is mainly about trying to hide certain parts of one's personality and creating an idealized version of oneself and one's own reality. Blogging is very much like Picasso said in 1923 about art (I have substituted the word blog here for art):

"We all know that [blogging]art is not truth. [Blogging]Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand. The [blogger]artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies."

So there you have it. What I really want to know is, are you an egoist or a voyeur? Also, how do you see me in reality, I mean, do you imagine I am happy go lucky, a manic depressive etc? Go on, be honest, what impression do you have of me?

Also, who is the blogger you would most like to have sexy time with?

Monday, April 14, 2008

Greedy Pigs Caught with Fists Full of Walnut Whips

Christine Ruther - a craving for Walnut Whips drove her into the arms of crime

In the heist of a sweet shop called Minges and Son (FOR REAL!) police in Cincinnati recently followed a helpful trail of candy and discarded wrappers that the half-witted thieves had discarded, leading them directly to the suspects.

Nineteen year old Christine Ruther had her 7-week-old daughter with her when she and three others broke into Peter Minges & Son candy store on Thursday. They are accused of taking about $400 (£203) worth of sweets.

They reportedly used the baby's pushchair to transport their loot away from Minges. The group was arrested a few blocks away. This story made me cry with laughter. Until I remembered I'd had a similar brush with the law when I was fifteen and had a Saturday job in a fancy schmanzy chocolate store in Hampstead High Street. The chocs were all hand made in the back of the shop and chocolate ran out of pipes a la Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was a fantastic lark. There was just one problem with the job. I was a greedy pig and the fumes of chocolate went to my head. I used to wear a big anorak to work and stuff it full of these yummy chocolates before I left for home. And one day I overstuffed the coat and, if memory serves me correctly, left a trail of chocolates behind me all the way down the street. I believe that was the reason I was 'let go', but it might simply have been that I ate my weight in chocolates every Saturday, so even though they were only paying me something like 14 pounds a day they were losing money hand over fist!

I don't suppose any of you will admit to any behavior more stupid than that, will you?

Thursday, April 10, 2008

The Unweaned Generation

Okay, so no one who knows me could ever accuse me of being an overprotective parent. But I am so tired of them. One woman I know refuses to let her eight year old son go on field trips because she doesn't feel safe about him going on a school bus on the highway "In case the bus crashes." Right. Everywhere you look there are parents at playgrounds hovering over their kids and monitoring their play. And if they do (God forbid) get into a row with another kid, the parent referees the fight!

I laughed my head off when this maybe nine year old boy came up to me at the playground today, practically in tears, and told me that Sausage, age 4, "won't leave me alone and keeps shouting at me." What was I meant to say, apart from, "you sad sad individual. I feel so sorry that you can't defend yourself against a four year old." Well I would have said that, but I would probably have been arrested for child abuse. It's getting so I am scared to invite a child from my kids' school to my house for a 'playdate' because I fear some overprotective parent will stay for the date (and believe me, they do).

This sad trend of coddling kids was brought home by Ms. Skenazy, a columnist for The New York Sun, who recently wrote about letting her nine year old son take the subway home on his own. She got lots of nice comments about how normal she was being, and that when we were kids travelling on our own was fine. Obviously she also got many parents saying she was neglectful and should be roasted in hell.

Let's take a reality check. The cold, hard reality is that things are not more dangerous for children these days. There is not a paedophile behind every tree. The dangers to children these days are mostly generated by the media who whip every abduction story into a wild hysterical outburst on the evil state of society today.

And when a child does go missing or is abducted, the media blame the parents. The situation is totally out of control.

Trevor Butterworth, a spokesman for the research center, said, ‘The statistics show that [a child's death via abduction] is an incredibly rare event, and you can't protect people from very rare events. It would be like trying to create a shield against being struck by lightning.’ ”

Justice Department data actually show the number of children abducted by strangers has been going down over the years. So why not let your kids travel home from school by themselves? Why indeed?

Yeah, I did used to walk home from school in London and take the subway around the city on my own from maybe eight or nine, and why not? Even these days I would say it is no more dangerous, depending of course that the bus/subway route is relatively safe.

Kids are becoming more and more afraid that the world is a dangerous place. Maybe it is. But you need to learn ways to survive it. You can't have mummy and daddy on the end of a cell phone every time you get into trouble, the modern day equivalent of hanging at the end of an umbilical cord.

And it all adds up to a heap of trouble once these kids get to college. Psychology Today reports that:

By all accounts, psychological distress is rampant on college campuses. It takes a variety of forms, including anxiety and depression—which are increasingly regarded as two faces of the same coin—binge drinking and substance abuse, self-mutilation and other forms of disconnection. The mental state of students is now so precarious for so many that, says Steven Hyman, provost of Harvard University and former director of the National Institute of Mental Health, "it is interfering with the core mission of the university."

"Children need to be gently encouraged to take risks and learn that nothing terrible happens," says Michael Liebowitz, clinical professor of psychiatry at Columbia University and head of the Anxiety Disorders Clinic at New York State Psychiatric Institute. "They need gradual exposure to find that the world is not dangerous. Having overprotective parents is a risk factor for anxiety disorders because children do not have opportunities to master their innate shyness and become more comfortable in the world."

So what I say is, okay, maybe traffic is worse than when we were kids, but as for the rest of it, well, I simply don't buy it. And I don't understand why kids need to be protected from reality.

What do you say? Do you think there are more dangers for kids today or not?

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

In Bed with Gordon Ramsay

I know I know, I must have had my head up my backside for years. I simply didn't realize there was a version of me walking around until last night. So okay I don't have pockmarked skin and okay I'm not worth £67m, but otherwise myself and Gordon Ramsay are exactly alike!

So yesterday it happened, an epiphany! I watched Gordon Ramsay's Hell's Kitchen where fifteen chefs try and make it through torturous times with Ramsay to get a job in one of his restaurants without having their balls flambeed or their breasts clamped in a waffle iron. Comic gold!

There was one particular fat ugly little chef who I wanted to poke in the eyes, not even because he was fat and lazy but because he was the worst male chauvinist I've seen in a long time. There were two teams, men and women, and when the women's team won, fat chef had to say: "I can't believe this! The only thing I want to lose to a woman is an ironing contest." He also said, "If I win this competition I will be beating women off with a stick." I immediately thought "Oh dear. Oh dear. Not likely, mate."

But who I really want to talk about is Ramsey. He is so wonderful. These chefs were taking three hours just to prepare appetizers, so why shouldn't he give them an earful? And he did:

"Oh fuck me!
Oh fuck me senseless!
It’s way too peppery and you wouldn’t serve it to a fucking pig!
It’s rancid!
You’ll kill someone!
This is rubber!" he said, bouncing some fried chicken off the walls.

Absolute gold.

Why is he so angry? Is it the old story of the small penis and man trying to compensate? I think not, because Ramsay is 6' 2", with size-15 feet.

He is married to a woman called Cayetana Elizabeth Hutcheson and the couple have four children: Megan, twins Jack and Holly, and Matilda.

I couldn't help wondering how he is at home.

"Oh for fuck's sake Holly, fuck me sideways you've got a C on your report card again!
Megan this toast you've made me is fucking burnt. I wouldn't feed this to my cat!"

Or what about Ramsey in bed:

"Oh Cayetana, you fucking twat. I told you to bring me the KY. FUCK. I've just rubbed this cream all over my dick and now I find its Deep Heat and my fucking knob is burning away. You stupid bitch. I was going to fuck you into next week but now you can go sleep on the sofa, you cow."

The thing is if I didn't control myself I would be effing and blinding all over the shop especially first thing in the morning. But Gordon gets away with it because he's a perfectionist and a genius cook. So the thing is, I would be allowed to drop F-bombs all over myself if I was passionate about something. So okay, right now I'm not passionate about anything except for maybe making a twat of myself on youtube videos. But what do you reckon? Give me a passion and I swear I'll get passionate about it and then I'll have carte blanche to swear until I'm blue in the face. Result.

Also, if you like dirty dog stories I've a great one for you here. This is totally true, I swear!