The real cost of capitalism

I've been thinking about capitalism. I'm not an economist or an expert in politics. However I never let lack of knowledge about the subject stop me from forming an opinion, so I have come to the following conclusions:

On having a vagina

Today I read an excellent blog piece (which you can read here if you want to) on Samantha Brick-gate, the column by Grazia and Daily Mail "writer", where her self delusion reaches previously unattained levels when she claims she is just too beautiful for any women to want to be friends with her. Sob sob, ahem, yes we're all sure that's why women don't like you, love. The author of the blog explains just why this is so hilarious far better than I could, but something she says in the final paragraph particularly stuck with me.

Book Review: The Hunger Games

When I was little I didn't want to be a ballerina, or a princess, or a train driver when I grew up. (Ok I wanted to be a train driver a bit.) Instead I wanted, as I solemnly told my parents at the age of five, to be an author. I still do. I read voraciously everything I could get my hands on, Edith Nesbitt, Lewis Carroll, George MacDonald, CS Lewis, Madeleine L’Engle, Tolkein. I loved fantasy, adventure, peril and heroism, and I spent much of my childhood living half in the real world and half in the world of dragons and battles and princesses and rebellions and epic journeys. And for as long as I can remember I wrote stories and poems and songs. I dreamed of adventures and put them on paper.

Unilad

If you have been living under a rock or as a sack-wearing hermit, you may still be unaware of uniladgate, the scandal surrounding online ‘Lad’s’ mag for presumably sexually incompetent male university students that endorsed rape on the grounds that most go unreported so its worth a try if a girl is reluctant to give it up. Subsequent twitter storm saw the filth-ridden Unilad brigade shut down the website, sadly depriving a generation of Fosters-swilling, socially inept Soccer AM addicts from a communal wank-fest in their shared kitchen. This vile piece of internet mud is now back with us, bringing us such delights as “If you want the gash, spend the cash”. FYI unilads, neither wearing £10 cream Primark chinos nor referring to young women as “gash” will get you anywhere near one. It more or less cements the fact that you will not have sex with anything other than your hand for many, many years. Still, their online poll “are you glad we’re back” pleasingly showed that 60% of their visitors were not, and their advertising space remains woefully empty. We can be grateful for small mercies.

In defence of Cunt



The Millers Tale - a 14th century use of cunt

Why we still need the NHS

A few days ago I was rushed to hospital  by ambulance with a suspected pulmonary embolism. I was in intense pain, the GP I saw first was brilliant, and the paramedics were superb. They were calm but concerned, they took me seriously, they asked me what pain I was in and what I relief I wanted. They apologised for taking 45 minutes to reach me - they said things were very stretched. They drove me carefully but quickly, one of them held my hand as we went over speed bumps because it hurt so much.

Friendship

I am currently at my friend's house in London feeling extremely poorly. Its just a nasty cold, because I've been working too much and its winter and I haven't eaten enough vegetables lately. So while she is at work in the city, I fester miserably on her sofa playing on iPhone 4 and catching up with my blogs. While browsing on her computer, I stumbled across her anonymous blog, so after some internal wrangling I read it.

Dos and Donts of First Dates



"Lets get so trashed we don't remember this tomorrow darling!"



It's not like I've been on a lot of dates. But I see everything as a learning opportunity and that's really all that some of them were, at best. I haven't had one in a long time. (Or a date, HA. You're welcome.)But I'm going on a really important first date soon, and lying in bed this morning contemplating how I can achieve being as little of a total dick as possible, the following rules of first dates came to mind.

Why being a writer is hard

Being a writer is not easy, in and of itself. First comes the question - who can categorise themselves as a writer? Do you have to be paid for it? Published? Read? Write with a certain regularity? Ability? In one sense I suppose we are all writers. But I am going to go ahead and work under the premise that writers are those of us who write for an audience.

How not to have bad sex - vol 2

So I told you I'd write a post about my friend who is sleeping with a boy who wears skirts.
I would like to add that at the time when she told me, I was sleeping with a boy who has a life-size Alexandr the Meercat tattoo on his leg which he got for a bet, so despite my screeches of laughter, I didn't really have a leg to stand on. So to speak.