Crappy Day in the Shop of Dreams

Yesterday was really awful. No seriously, worst day in ages. So, in order to really show my frustration at all of the hideous customers I had to deal with yesterday, I went looking for a gif. On my search I found so many great things I stopped being annoyed.

Thank you, internet. Thank you.

Bookshop Babylon PSA: How Not to Piss off Retail Workers at Christmas

A lot of people seem to have real problems not pissing me off at Christmastime. Me and lots of other poor sods who have to work in shops at Christmas.it's hell, we know. It's hell for you, it's hell for us.

Christmas music blasts continuously from tinny mall speakers, reminding you, that Santa Claus Is indeed Coming To Town, so you'd better get those damn presents PERFECT!

Not one air conditioner actually works, they buckle under the weight of the globally warmed air, so everyone walks around sweltering in the recycled, tepid atmosphere.

The shops seem to have run out of what you want every single time you step in one.

We know.

But think about it for a second. We have to stand, with the music and the heat beating down on us for freakin' hours on end. Our lives do not revolve around you and whatever shit you want to buy for your annoying relations. Our jobs don't even revolve around that.

BUT we are very appreciative of nice people at this time of year. If I like you, I will help you out a little more than I perhaps would if you piss me off. So, here are some handy tips to make all of our lives easier.

1. There is a queue. There is always a queue, it's Christmas. Jesus has to queue at Christmas. Don't take it as a personal affront when I point this out to you. No matter how confused you pretend to be, we all know that you are an impatient ass, so get to the back of the queue already.

2. Shops are not like the Tardis. It is not the mythical Argos of Bill Bailey's dreams (in joke). We cannot stock everything on earth. I'm dreadfully sorry that we don't have the obscure history of the Ukrainian Sewage system you're looking for (this actually happened), but we need room for all of the Dan Brown books. I hate it too, you know.

3. It is not my fault when other shops fuck up. I am sorry that there is no one manning the calendar club stand, but we cannot sell you something that isn't ours. I cannot change this. In other words, it ain't my problem, lady.

4. Unless you are Amish, you have been in a shop before. We expect you to have some rudimentary level of knowledge about how things go in a shop. Shops are owned by people, who are sometimes corporations. Corporations run on Capitalism. Capitalism wants your money. It is unlikely, therefore, that Capitalism will let you have stuff cheap. When there is a sale, the discount will not apply to already discounted items. This is not a rip off, as you so often tell me, because it's ALREADY DISCOUNTED. You're already getting it cheaper, so quit freakin' moaning.

I'm sure I'll think of more tips as the 'primary gifting period' continues, but that'll do for now.

Please try not to piss me off.

Overheard at the Bookshop

(Me, sitting on the floor, surrounded by about five cartons of lonely planet guides)

CUSTOMER: "Do you guys sell lonely planet guides?"

ME: .... (incredulous look)

CUSTOMER: "Have I walked right past them?"

Seriously folks, I couldn't make this stuff up.

Overheard at the Bookshop

Some kids (maybe 18ish):

Kid 1: "Who's Malcolm X?"

Kid 2: "Oh my god, do you really not know who Malcolm X is!?"

Kid 1: "No, who is he?"

Kid 2: "Dude, he was like the guy who started the Reformation."

...

Decision Points on the Journey to Lazarus Rising.

It's christmas time and there's a great need to be afraid. Yep, that's right, decorations are up and the annual exponential rise in customers has started. The stock is piling up; boxes and boxes of shit which no one would ever buy if they weren't trying to get their whole christmas shopping list done on one day and in one shop.

Yet another little box of address books and journals which are too tiny to use, so will sit on someone's shelf for half the year before they remember they have it.

The coffee-table book of 'beautiful pigs' which will go straight to the bottom-right section of the bookshelf, where you store your old school yearbooks and all the endless Anne Geddes books of creepy babies dressed as elves etc.

The jokey-retro 'I'm a bitch' calendar, the one that you'll put on your desk and forget to rip any pages off, which you will throw out in August, the date still reading 'January 24th.'

But what really scares me is the fact that this christmas, three biographies have really jumped out at me as clealry having been released for the 'primary gifting period.'

The Journey by Tony Blair

Decision Points by George Bush

Lazarus Rising by John Howard

Three no doubt ghosted books (apparently The Journey is excrutiatingly badly written) which will attempt to create a mixture of a healthy ability to poke fun at themselves, long mournful chapters about their terrible suffering and tracts of self-pitying crap which tries to justify their actions. Also so far both 'Decision Points' and 'The Journey' cost $75.00.

That's pretty pricey, so I was thinking that for anyone wanting to read these fine works of political biography *cough*, this might be an idea:

P.S.

Um, I don't think that's the lyric...

Whenever I listen to 'The ballad of Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts' (one of my favourite Dylan songs) I invariably get it stuck in my head. This generally means that I'm singing it constantly for at least 24 hours. When this happens, I get the lyrics mixed up.

Sometimes with hilarious consequences. 

If you've never heard it, it's immensely long with many verses, which means that the potential for mix-ups is far greater. 

One of the lines is " Rosemary combed her hair and took a carriage into town." Bob, being Bob, slurs the 'r's in carriage so it sounds a little like 'cabbage.' 

Hilarious moment #1. 

Another line is "Lily took her dress off, buried it away." 

So, if you ever hear me sing "Lily took her dress off and took a cabbage into town" that's what I've done.

It has a nice ring to it though...

From buzzfeed, the differences between Paris and New York

...cause apparently these are the only ones.

The smell of freedom

I had my last exam today, so summer has officially begun for me and I intend to make the most of it! I'm doing a summer internship in the politics department and of course will be doing the christmas grind at the bookshop, so it's not all fun and games, but I shall have infinitely more time for blogging and I intend to catch up on an awful lot of reading.

Oh yeah, and THE CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS ARE UP. At the westfield malls. ALREADY.

Just kill me now.

I AM OFFENDED BECAUSE...: The Fury and the Furiously Busy

This may just be my favourite blog. Excellent rage-filled rants about all the mysoginistic, homophobic and fatphobic crap that exists in the world.

I AM OFFENDED BECAUSE...: The Fury and the Furiously Busy: "Despite writing a blog about being offended, and therefore living in a state of near-permanant rage, it is not that often that I get really ..."

OH MY WORD

They've made a movie of For colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf by Ntozake Shange. LIKE ACTUALLY. This choreopoem was the first thing I ever read for uni and I seriously think it changed my life. The movie is called simply 'For Colored Girls' and features, well a whole lot of fabulous African American ladies. 

While I feel a little anxious about what they're going to do to the poem, I'm glad that maybe more people will read it as a result.

Buy it from here now and read it. 

DO IT.

Katy Perry Will Change Your Life

From Jezebel:

In response to this. 

My Favourite Fear/Sanity Placards

This is so awesome it needs no explanation

From Overheard Everywhere: Raps White People Like

Go here, for this:

At this particular time the regional legal decision-making body known as NWA has assembled to deliver judgement

His excellency Judge Dre has nominated himself as adjudicator in the matter of NWA versus the Police Department of Silverlake, Los Angeles.

For the prosecution, I present Emcee Ren, A small block of Ice and an easy failing grade in CIE level examinations.

If everyone would please calm themselves and resume their seats, a small block of Ice will present testimony.

Are you so inclined to speak no falsehood,

and only truth, lest the lord take your African-American posterior and strike it down?

Would it please you to tell all assembled the matters you have taken grievance against?

I am upset with authority.

I am informing you of this knowledge from a place generally considered to be outside standard jurisdiction.

I believe an element of race to be causing these issues.

I am not of the same racial background as my fellow man,

And the police department of Silverlake, Los Angeles has taken it upon themselves to exercise lawful termination of myself and otherwise within my social strata regardless of cause.

I am not overly pleased with this, I am not, to my knowledge,

The appropriate person who may or may not be engaged in illicit night-time careers, and / or engage in conduct with a person from whom life has emerged, regardless of their symbol of employment within the police department of Silverlake, Los Angeles or their rifle,

To be violently struck, with intention, only to be held in contempt of civic authority.

I believe this aggressors would react differently should we be placed on equal terms, perhaps upon meeting in a detention centre.

I believe their issue stems largely from my youth,

which they believe is asynchronous to my possession of symbols of wealth and status.

An illegal search and seizure was attempted on my automobile,

Stemming from an incorrect belief that everyone of similar appearance to me deals in opiates.

The common approved view of individuals such as myself is that we belong in correctional facilities,

Not expensive automobiles such as I was driving the night the incident occurred, to which my colleague Lorenzo can attest.

Grievous bodily harm might occur if this happens in future,

At the end of which, clear demarcation of the scene is necessary

To identity the event which has occurred at that position.

I believe the injured party will have difficulty with consumption of food and beverage.

I am not sure if Kraft-Ebbing’s late nineteenth century term ‘Homosexual’ is an accurate description of the police department of Silverlake, Los Angeles,

But law-contrary searches have suggested this to me in intimate detail.

It is my view that without semiotic markers of violence, these individuals are without sexual congress.

If by chance the officers present happen to be of mixed race,

The violence inherent in the situation may escalate,

With expressions of solidarity provided on behalf of the minority attendant.

A small bock of ice will appear en masse,

Should any person of illicit conduct with a life-giver happen to festoon himself in garments of a cerulean or azure nature.

Purely because of my origin within West Hollywood, these men (with inappropriate night jobs) are afeared of my visage.

I am a young person of coarse African descent on a path set out by generals of old,

At the end of which I imagine is only more violence.

I see visions of members of the police department of Silverlake, Los Angeles, being struck down before their time.

So, yes, Judge Dre. I do indeed have an issue with the accused.

I am upset with authority.

I am upset with authority.

I am upset with authority.

I am upset with authority.

And here for this:

You are perfectly aware that you harbour amorous affection towards me, and I am perfectly aware that you want to express them,

Raise your vocals to a greater height at any moment,and I shall endeavour to be at your side, unquestionably.

I am perfectly aware of my amorous affection for you. It is logical that I believe you to be the beating organ in my chest, then.

I am stalwart in my conviction that we shall not once in our lives part company.

You never informed me if our amorous nature was public. Woman, cease your games!

“My affection for you is simply platonic”. I cannot comprehend that statement!

You informed me such: “There is another” and caught my gaze with a stare that tames,

Prima-Affection, Prima-Disappointment!

And I expressed myself in these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I protest

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

I was of the persuasion that you were to become one of my possessions, my beloved possessions.

Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I protest

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

I was of the persuasion that you were to become one of my possessions, my beloved possessions.

In your interest, my person would have assailed any task,

But I am afraid this surpasses comprehension.

I cannot remain stalwart, for you are exheunting such as liquid from a flask,

No object is unworthy if you wish it, nor any jeweled adornment beyond purchasisation.

I have come undone! Infant Personage bring your love glue gun to me,

And vigorously assail me until I awake from the phantasmic nightmare

My physical location is descending quickly,

I cannot comprehend that the recipient of my first expression of amorous intent will no longer fix me with her glare.

And I expressed myself in these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I protest

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

I was of the persuasion that you were to become one of my possessions, my beloved possessions.

And I expressed myself in these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I protest

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

I was of the persuasion that you were to become one of my possessions, my beloved possessions.

When I was but a young boy, I had my first expression of amorous intent

None in the land held a candle to my dear Infant Personage

Not one kept us apart whom would reach climax with you beneath them,

My mind I lost, as if a vice given up for Lent,

I was wakened readily, no need to purchase hot beverages in cafés in Stevenage.

My internal blood-pressure regulator lost pace,

It would stumbled upon glimpsing her visage,

In our place of education, during intervals,

I would like it very much if I could approach her outside that time without fear of mace

Her wonder was so complete it would baffle a corsage

My internal blood-pressure regulator has failed, but I say this despite issues medical:

Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I protest

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

I was of the persuasion that you were to become one of my possessions, my beloved possessions.

Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, no

In these words: Infant Personage, Infant Personage, Infant Personage, I say

I was of the persuasion that you were to become one of my possessions, my beloved possessions.

I am left bereft

(I say, I say, I say)

(I say, I say, I say)

Now I am left bereft

(I say, I say, I say)

(I say, I say, I say)

Now I am left bereft

(I say, I say, I say)

(I say, I say, I say)

Now I am left bereft, in all understanding

I am left bereft.

Genius.  

But you're like really pretty?

I just took a cab ride with this female driver I've seen around before (I feel so much better in a cab with a female driver. Paranoid, perhaps) and we chatted on the journey, she asked me what I was studying etc. I told her I was doing law and politics at which point she said "but you're really pretty?"

....

I got Regina Georged. In a nice way. I think.

Apparently pretty girls (also, apparently I'm pretty) don't do law and politics. I am reminded of this:

From lolnats

White-rapping. The craze has begun.

Here are a few others which people have posted on Facebook (oh noes! A meme!)

Gina:

As I take a leisurely stroll through the canyon of the overbearing darkness of the afterlife, I contemplate my mortality and come to the conclusion there’s a vast nothingness...

With lots of vigor force and activity, beautiful looking lady, we're going to hold a gathering as if it's your annual celebration, we're going to commemorate like it's your get together for your natal day, we're going to drink rum slowly as if it's your shindig, and you know we don't give two hoots that there's no annual event to mark with this special occasion. 

Tim:

I am a stultus of tertiary level education with the common form of exchange on my conscious and unconscious cognative processes? 

I'm also thinking we can branch out a little into other types of music...

The young ladies from the state of California are really rather neat, they tend to wear cut-off denim shorts (similar to those worn by the character of Daisy in the popular television show and film: The Dukes of Hazard) and the top half of a two-piece swimsuit. 

I love xkcd.

It's for nerds who like funny things.

Exhibit A:

Er'body in the club getting' tipss....

I saw this:

Which is hilarious and it inspired me to create some of my own 'white' raps. 'Cause that's how I roll.

See if you can guess what songs they come from! (It's a game, playas... I'll stop now I promise).

All personages in the vicinity of this place of recreation and inebriation are imbibing alcoholic beverages and beginning to feel their effects on their systems.

And

I am a pleasant fellow, with some admirable aspirations, do you observe here these cubes of ice and additionally here, these frozen dairy products?

And

The authorities see me tootling along in my automobile and appear to look upon me with a derisive and suspicious manner. While patrolling their assigned streets they attempt to apprehend me while operating my vehicle in an illegal or immoral fashion.  

I'm pretty sure they're off the heezy.

A. SS. HO. LE

For Paul Henry who is outta here!

Go Here For Lolz

really good day

Today was epic.

Len Brown won - thank fuck for that. Can you imagine another three years of John Banks?! So happy for Len and the team - great work everyone who helped out sign-waving, leafleting door-knocking, phone-canvassing and all that jazz.

You guys rock my world. I wish I'd been able to help out (mad crazy busy world).

The weird thing is that I dreamed Len would win. Months ago, before the election really started. It was weird, I went into work and (it was dead quiet, I had loads of time to think) and suddenly it occurred to me that the election hadn't happened yet, so why was I so certain that Len had won? I don't usually remember my dreams, so it was a weird sort of feeling.

I had this clear memory of someone saying to me 'Len Brown's won!' and me being happy.

What's really weird is that I also dreamed that the number of votes he won by had a six in it somewhere.

He won by 60,000 votes.

FREAKING ME OUT.

I may have inherited this weird Welsh thing from my mum, she has dreamed many many weird things before they happened. Crazy Celtic shit.

ANYWAY.

Also, I went to see Gin Wigmore tonight and it was incredible!! She is so fabulous, her voice is amazing and that band is really really very good.

Go and see her - the Grave Train Tour - so worth it. BEST concert I have ever been to (and I've been to see both Dylan and Clapton)

Also I bought a really very nice bag. I like bags.

We'd Rather Be: It Gets Better

An inspiring post from my friend Phoebe's blog:

We'd Rather Be: It Gets Better:

"For those of you who haven't heard, there have been a string of suicides across America - over the last few weeks in particular - by gay youth. These kids - yes, it's KIDS who are out there taking their own lives - were suffering under regular, heavy bullying and violence against them because of their sexuality.

It sickens and saddens me that, after how far we've come as a human race, these things are still going on. That we are still allowing something as personal and private as one individual's choices to affect their humanity in our eyes. That there are people out there who truly believe they have the right to tell a person who they are and what they are worth - or aren't worth - based on their sexual preference just baffles me. Where does this sense of entitlement come from? How do those people sleep at night believing they have done the 'right' thing in harassing and assaulting innocent teenagers whose decisions affect no one but themselves? How do those people go through their lives day by day, reassured by the fact that they have somehow made the 'right' choice in who they choose to love, and the others out there who have made the 'wrong' choice are nothing more than scum and need to be shown so? To me, it goes against everything we are supposed to be as people - loving, accepting, honouring of each other - and is a demonstration of everything in ourselves we need to be fighting against - selfishness, arrogance, ignorance, fear - every minute of every day.

The outcry against these heartbreaking suicides, by kids who felt they really had no other option but to end their own lives, has been really inspiring, and can hopefully bring a little bit of hope into the worlds of those kids who feel like nothing can save them. The It Gets Better video campaign that has been growing day by day on the internet as celebrities and other well-known public figures post videos of encouragement and hope. Those messages, while only minutes long, are hopefully helping lost and confused teens out there realize that while it feels like it can't get any worse, it can actually get better. That while there are countless others out there who not only went through the exact same feelings, contemplated the exact same actions and often attempted them themselves, they are all people who made it through. They realized that the only person you need to worry about making happy is yourself, because at the end of the day there is no one else. They realized that as they got older they grew, and in doing so they learned to accept themselves for who they are and what they want, and they realized that nothing about that is wrong. They realized that it does get better, and it keeps getting better every single day. They realized that fighting for who they are is so much better than running away.

For those of you who tend to judge, stop for a minute. Imagine your brother, your sister, your best friend, coming to you and sharing the most difficult part of themselves with you. Imagine their heart pounding, their hands shaking, the fear in their eyes as they sit there in front of you, more open than they have ever wanted to be, and wait to hear from you what they have feared all along: that they are disgusting, that they are wrong, that they are unnatural. That they have made the wrong 'choice'. Why would anybody make that 'choice' knowing what comes with it? Imagine being that brother, sister, best friend. What reaction would you fear, and what reaction would you dare to hope for? What reaction would you deserve? As a human being, just as beautiful, talented, smart, passionate, excited, hopeful, dream-filled, as the next, what reaction would you deserve?

It's up to us to show those people what they deserve, and to give it to them. It's up to us, as people, to show them that it gets better."
by Phoebe at We'd Rather Be

Summer must be nearly here

I debuted my summer legs today. When I was in my house they looked okay, their usual stumpy-tree-trunk-like selves (which used to cause me a lot of self-consciousness and insecurity, but thanks to the power of leggings and body-positive campaigns I've got over this) sticking out from underneath my very cute grey woollen skirt. When I went into the sun, I remembered that they, much like vampires (real ones, not sparkly ones) have not seen the sun since I was about eight.

I could stand at the roadside of an evening and use them as reflective posts (considered making a pun about this being a reflective post about reflective posts, reconsidered and moved on).

I think I blinded several small furry animals on my way to the bus stop.

But maybe this summer, having more confidence in my legs, I will allow them a little more sun so I can tan a little of the Welsh-ness out of them.

Let summer come so that we pasty anglo-europeans can enjoy the ritual of trying to tan, looking like a lobster from the sunburn and then fading to a slightly more tanned version of the norm.

Oh for a drop of melanin!

Paul Henry is an Asshole

Yes indeed. He's not a good kiwi bloke who just speaks his mind or a hilarious talk show host looking for ratings. He's not to be ignored or dismissed. He is an asshole who needs to be sacked.

He's a racist, homophobic, sexist, people-with-disabilities-ist gibbering idiot. And apparently a monarchist, though what that has to do with making racist comments about the Governor General I don't know.

I'd like Paul Henry to tell me exactly what a New Zealander looks like? Colin Meads? John Key? Some other middle aged/elderly white bloke?

I'd also like the TVNZ spokeswoman who claimed that Paul Henry speaks for me to know that he doesn't. I don't find it appropriate to refer to a woman's physical appearance in order to ridicule her or to imply that there is only one way of 'looking like' a New Zealander (besides the fact that Anand Satyanand is a New Zealander, he doesn't have to 'look like' one).

I wouldn't secretly think that homosexuality is unnatural or that using the word 'retard' to describe someone is OK.

And Paul, I am not 'overly sensitive' or 'easily offended.' I respect people, and that is one of the many differences between you and me.

Actually, there are some people I actively disrespect. Paul Henry, for instance.

Some things I saw today which pissed me off.

A giant Diet Coke ad in the mall with this gross puppet thing with weird Bratz-style proportions proclaiming that "a woman should be two things: fabulous and fabulous." 

I want to throw up every time I see it. Not really a great strategy for selling diet coke. 

A headline about how Angelina Jolie's (Angelina is the anti-Christ. And not in a good way) daughter Shiloh is somehow being forced by evil Angelina to be a boy. By dressing up in supposedly masculine clothes. Read: she's like 5 and she's not dressing like a skank yet like all the other 5-year-olds therefore must be a lesbian in waiting. 'Cause it's horrific to imagine that a girl might not want to dress like Barbie all the time. That's what's screwed up, not fact that ads like the diet coke one above which brainwashes women into thinking they have to be skinny and brainless to count (and when I say skinny I mean a corpse. A brainless corpse. They basically want women to be zombies). 

This thing on 'I am offended because' about big boobs not 'counting' if you're fat. I really can't say it any better than she has so check it out. 

A spread in New Weekly (shut up, I read it 'cause it's there) about Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton kissing and shooting up. The thing that pissed me off was that the picture of the two of them kissing was presented ina way which implied that two adult women kissing each other was more sordid and shocking than heroin. Also it's Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton, I think we've established that they do drugs. 

The fact that I nearly just wrote 'Li-Lo' instead of Lindsay Lohan.

When customers lean over the counter and into my personal space in order to check that they have squeezed as much value out of their last ten-cent-piece as they possibly can. While wearing D&G sunglasses and hauling a Louis Vuitton handbag. Fuck off. If you want to see the screen ask me and I'll swivel it round. Don't lean into my face with your cloud of white diamonds. 

The fact that the bookstore has had some christmas stuff out since early september. Can't we have a good even months of respite from christmas please? It starts earlier every year and every time I see it I get a nervous tick and the urge to hack people to death with broken copies of Mariah Carey's christmas album.

People who get pissed at me for things which I clearly have no control over. Like our product catalogue server going down. Yes I did it on purpose to annoy you. Take your Tag Heuer watch and scruffy fingernails and fuck off. 

But on the bright side, there's Tank juice. Omnomnomnomnom.

This is truly one of the best things I've read in ages

It's from my friend Coley's blog Tangerina (which is awesome) and it's something she contributed to her partner's (or Manfriend as she calls him :D) photography assignment.

It's pretty much a manifesto and a really good one. When she writes her bestselling-international-phenomenon-type book (no pressure Coley), this should be the foreword.

So please go along and read it here, I shall give you a wee preview:

The other day my boss said I was “an interesting set of contradictions”. I had brought over 100 immaculately decorated cupcakes with me in order to raise money for homeless animals (honestly), and as I arrived in the office he jokingly asked if I was wearing a pinny. In response I took off my jacket, proudly revealing the vintage gingham apron I had worn to get into the spirit of a bakesale.

I suppose my boss identified this as a ‘contradiction’ because of a previous conversation where I voiced my disappointment that a recent management reshuffle had resulted in a lack of women in and above middle management, or maybe it was because I told him about my involvement in a group trying to remove abortion from the Crimes Act, or that I used to be the straight Queer Rep at my university, or that I don’t dress to hide my DDs, or that I take long lunch breaks to go to church once a week. Either way, it’s apparent that I confuse people. This wasn’t the first time it’s been mentioned, but it was the most nicely put.  

I like kittens, baking, and spending the occasional $200 on eyelash extensions. I dig God, am utterly aware that I am cisgendered and I strive to reject heteronormativity and cisnormativity within my heterosexual monogamous relationship. I never bought the belief that women who want freedom from oppression hate cupcakes. I am also fucking sick of not being comfortable getting off the bus and walking 500 metres home in the dark because I am supposedly ‘the weaker’ sex and therefore fair game...

It's inspirational really (much like Coley) so please go and read it and like it and reblog it.

Also, at the bottom of the post there are details of how you can get a copy of Jason's magazine - do it. Imagine how cool it would be to have on your coffee table.

Caitlin :)

I had a nice moment.

I was on the bus and it was sailing through the streets of Auckland. I had 'American Honey' by Lady Antebellum on the iPod (shut up - I like country music - deal with it). The sun was shining off to the west - with that golden light which you get at sunset. Also it was nearly 7pm and the sun was still out which was nice. I had just been to Lounge at the University and listened to some spectacular poetry. I knew there was a glass of save waiting for me at home, where I could brag about my successful presentation for one of my courses (which was awesome).

I had a nice moment where I was happy to be alive and in the city. One of those rare moments of absolute contentment. Despite the two essays and forty thousand other things I have to do.

It was really a wonderful moment.

Muslim Barbies: Weird or Cool?

Here they are:

I'm conflicted: I half think 'sure! Little Muslim girls probably like dolls and it must be nice to have one which isn't dressed like a pole-dancer and maybe resembles them and their family.' Then I think 'Gross! Mattel is exporting commercialised conceptions of beauty (which are sick and wrong to begin with) all around the globe. Now that we've brainwashed the western world's girls that they have to look like barbie in order to matter, we can start on the rest of the world. Also - I'm pretty sure most Muslims aren't white. These dolls look like your average pasty european fresh from the tanning bed.

I think I'm settling on weird actually.

I have a new blog.

It consists of me posting pictures of clothes I like from fashion shows and sometimes I talk about them. Also nice shoes/pictures etc.

It's really quite neat.

Here're a couple of pieces I like:

It's pretty much like that only cooler. 

It's called when the curtain calls. 

I stole that from a New Pornographers lyric.