Showing posts with label Sex and Relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sex and Relationships. Show all posts

Saturday, 15 February 2014

Young, Pretty and Gay: Ellen Page Came Out, But Why Does It Matter?


On the thought of beginning a new article for The Pessimist Chronicles, I have recently discovered why the idea for a new article hasn't really grabbed me for such a long time. Our fan base continues to grow, out hit counter still climes, but we haven't published anything new for over one year. Yes, dear readers, you read that correctly: our last article was a special seasonal offering by the unique wordsmith that is Shaun Beale, published, very aptly, on the morning of December 25th, 2012. After that, we ran into difficulties. We had dissertations to write, and a very short time left to do it in. After that came the celebrations - we had finally completed the biggest single piece of work any of us had ever done, after all, and the last thing any of us wanted to do was continue sitting at the computer writing up new material for publication. Then came the exams. So, as time wore on, The Pessimist Chronicles, that new, vibrant, side-splitting enterprise we had begun together so long ago, lay dormant. Like an old friend, the longer we left it, the harder it became to pick up the phone.
 
I had several ideas for a new article over the past year, but none of them came to fruition. Why, I eventually began to wonder, couldn't I write something meaningful? The jokes were there (dare I say, I often had down on paper some of the greatest jokes I had ever come up with); the time was at hand; I had managed to replace my busted laptop battery (Shaun and I have a very fond memory of my laptop's emergency warning siren blaring out in the quiet yet widely populated surroundings of the University of Winchester's multimedia centre). I had no excuse for not getting down to it. Soon, it struck me. The reason I couldn't write anything for The Pessimist Chronicles, that online magazine I begun with some of the best friends I had ever had, was very simple: it was because it belonged to a bygone age. I don't have those immediate connections anymore. Discussions late into the night with the gang can't just occur spontaneously. I can't sit up demolishing a pizza with them at three in the morning anymore. Essentially, if I were to write for the magazine again, would it be the same? Would I feel more remote this time around, without the knowledge that within half an hour of posting this I could be face to face with the one of the guys laughing about the horrendous war between nations my comments may have sparked off. In other words, would it not just make me realise how far apart we really are now?
 
Today, however, I felt the overwhelming need to break my silence. Ellen Page, star of X-Men: The Last Stand (2006), Juno (2007), Inception (2010) and others including the upcoming X-Men: Days of Future Past, and the top candidate on that shortlist of remarkably attractive young celebrities whom I was set to propose to should all realistic romantic ambitions finally become totally and irretrievably unrealisable, was suddenly off the list, allowing Sarah Bolger, Jenna Coleman, Pixie Lott and Count von Count to each rise up a rank in my affections, and also allowing the now-vacant fifth space to be occupied by a new candidate (I am currently undecided whether to allocate it to Tamla Kari or Angela Merkel). Why was she suddenly out of the running. Because, as all my readers will no doubt by now be aware, on Friday 14th February 2014, Ellen Page outed herself as gay.
Why, therefore, have I felt obliged to write this article? Why does an actress announcing that she is a lesbian even matter? Countless reports have surfaced over the past 24 hours, each simply repeating the same quotes and comments as the last. Surely, then, The Pessimist Chronicles getting involved in the discussion won't add anything new. I would like to take the opportunity to say that, if you thought that, or if you think it now that I have suggested it, you are very, very wrong.
 
Because Ellen Page being gay is not news. Someone's sexuality, in this enlightened age, should not be particularly noteworthy. What makes her coming out so significant, however, is the manner in which she did it, publicly, suddenly, and in a way which didn't successfully hide the nervous tremor in her voice as she did it. Coming just weeks after David Silvester's absurd comments upon gay marriage and God's ensuing wrath, the move was filled with courage, especially coming in the context of a world where there are still extreme conservative puritans all-too prepared to shoot her down.
 
The following comments have shown widespread support for Page's act. Shannon Woodward tweeted her to say 'I have never been more proud of a human than I am of @EllenPage right now'; Kristen Bell followed a similar track saying 'Rivited [sic] by @EllenPage's fabulous speech [...] She shines. Happy Valentines day to ALL.' Even our old enemies the Daily Mail managed to hold back their right wing credentials, making not a single disparaging remark in their coverage of the story.
 
Yet what brings me tonight to write this article is not the positive feedback Page has received. It is not inspired by the inspirational nature of her revelation. It is, in fact, quite the opposite which brings me here tonight. It is those who now see this as an opportunity to come up with disparaging remarks.
 
Facebook today, I have seen, is littered with the standard comments regarding picturing Ellen in various exclusively lesbian sex practices and those mourning the shattering of their hopes of marrying her in the future. These posts are fine - I have used the latter approach near the start of this article - and they are, for the most part, results of genuine humour, not malicious finger pointing and name calling. Yet it shocked me to see that in 2014 there are still those who would see her as anything other than an ordinary human being.
 
Be they internet trolls or genuinely opinionated people, it was frankly very disturbing to witness hordes of commenters arguing that Ellen was 'abnormal', 'mentally ill', a social outcast, suffering from some sort of disease, lying to make herself seem 'cooler', and, in one particularly disturbing comment I pray she never reads, that 'if there was ever a baby that should have been aborted, forget hitla [yes, he said "hitla"], its elen [yes, he said "elen"] page'.
 
And these weren't the only disgusting messages I found. There were a huge number citing the Bible, informing everyone that 'God hates fags', one man who wrote 'good job Ellen, now you're going to hell' and one woman who declared 'The Bible is not open to interpretation, and anyone who argues it is is trying to hide their own depravity. God tells us that homosexuals will be excluded from Heaven, that they are the most unnatural people on earth, and that they will burn for eternity for their sins, that isn't homophobia, that is clearly documented FACT.'
 
I could argue about the fallacy which surrounds religion. I could take the so often travelled path which mocks theists and treats them as members of some kind of mentally subnormal cult. Or I could even highlight the very well-known facts that the Bible is not a reliable source - that its messages on homosexuality are ambiguous and utterly unclear; that it has changed greatly over time, with added, altered and obfuscated passages which mean it now bears almost no resemblance to what it did a millennia ago; and that, even if we acknowledge the possible existence of an all-powerful deity, the Bible was written not by God or Jesus but by human men, who would likely have stamped their own personal and societal prejudices upon the text.
 
But I will not be taking that approach.
 
Why?
 
Because blaming these idiots' prejudices upon their religion is just as bad as their using religion to excuse their views. We cannot ever hope for an all-loving, all-accepting world while excluding those who follow religion from it. I am currently conducting research into religion for my current research project, and doing so has firmly made me believe that religion can be a positive thing. Religion cannot be blamed for the perpetuation of these views, but in the wrong circumstances it can certainly be an influence.
 
I do not write this from an anti-religion viewpoint. I do not write it from a self-righteous viewpoint. I do not even write this from the viewpoint of someone who is completely free of prejudice. Whether we like to admit it or not, we all have our little prejudices. But this matter is more significant than those prejudices. What Ellen Page did yesterday was brave, and it was noble. I asked at the start of this article why her coming out made such big news, and I think the reason is clear. It was because it was so brave - the girl was so obviously nervous during the duration of her speech, and there are still so many judgmental people in the world, that she would be perfectly forgiven for thinking that the move could have completely backfired on her. Yet I firmly believe that her actions will benefit many likeminded young people, struggling to come to terms with their own sexual identity. Why? Ellen's revelation was so different from those of other gay celebrities. She does not conform to the stereotypes associated with alternative sexualities. She isn't a 'butch' lesbian, a 'man hating' lesbian, an 'attention seeking' homosexual. Her speech shows these labels are non-uniform and largely false. There was no display of exhibitionism here, and she came across as a completely ordinary young woman. Hopefully this will show other young people that they do not have to fit into certain moulds in society and can be who they really are. If you aren't harming anyone, who can judge you for being yourself?
 
Other ignorant comments abound on Facebook, Twitter, new pages and other forums. Some view Ellen Page as simply trying to draw attention to herself, while others view homosexuality as a modern 'fad', completely ignoring the well-known homosexuality of Christopher Marlowe and the oft-conjectured bisexuality of William Shakespeare, both born 450 years ago in 1564, and you just have to examine the art and literature of the classical world to see homosexuality is certainly anything but 'modern' or a 'fad'. At the same time, we see those who think what she did was not brave. I am telling everyone now that it was. In front of so many people, knowing the world would see it, understanding that there was no going back once the confession was on camera, and in a world where such ignorant people could make such ignorant comments as have already been showcased here, there was nothing simple about her act. She showed true courage, and that is more important than any objections a few judgmental conservatives ad selective Bible interpreters can pose.
 
I am an atheist. I suppose that is me 'coming out' in a way. Religion is one personal discussion I attempt to avoid. Publicly, I often announce myself as an agnostic. My objection to the idea of an omnipotent, omniscient deity is not so much an unwillingness to believe, but an inability to believe. I cannot comprehend such a thing. I cannot see such a being existing in a world with so much pain and heartbreak. The plight of the homosexual community is one of the things I find most distasteful about the idea. I could not follow a God who would supposedly condemn anyone for loving someone. But I do not have anything against those who do believe in God, Jehovah, or whoever. The fact is, faith is a personal thing. But those who use their religion as an excuse to promote malicious abuse to others is frankly sickening. They don't just present themselves as ignorant, but give the wider religious community a bad name. The same goes for those who don't hide behind the concept of religion, and who simply promote their views as a fact all should understand. The world is not made up of right and wrong, natural and unnatural, real and fake. The world is made up primarily of love and understanding, and intolerance and hatred. People are scared to be themselves because of the latter, and I find it incomprehensible how the latter can have such a lasting impact upon the pursuit of the former.

Don't use the Bible to justify your prejudices. Don't pretend your prejudices are sensible or just. Don't act as though your prejudices are society's prejudices. They are not. They are your prejudices, perpetuated by you and others like you.
 
I asked why Ellen Page's coming out matters. I hope I have made my case. It could be argued that Ellen Page's coming out is a significant moment for so many areas of society. I see no reason to disagree.
 
Ellen: we salute you.
 
William Green.
 
Those who wish to relive the moment discussed in this article may do so below.



Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Shoving a Bun in the Metaphorical Oven

The time you've all been waiting for has finally come, dear readers, as this week I stick a probe deep inside baking's most sensitive part: the erotic cake industry! Sex and cake - what could be better?

For those of you who serve as long-term victims of my ramblings you will know that I have now decided to take my angst out on one sentence heard on a radio show recently: 'are men who can bake sexier?' In order to conduct some research into this question, I decided to sit down and watch the final of The Great British Bake-Off with my housemates (I say 'decided' - I had nothing better to do at the time). Anyway, the shocking fact is thaat I was able to watch the entirety of the last twenty minutes or so that I actually caught without getting in any way, shape or form sexually aroused. Shocking, yes? I thought as much. Of course, this may have been something to do with the fact that none of the finalists were female, and I'm not so desperate I could look at Mary Berry in that way, and I have long since accepted Sue Perkins' lifestyle choice. That said, the men weren't exactly the juiciest apples on the tree either: there was the old guy who nearly cried, the bloke who misunderstood 'bake a cake' and thought it meant 'bake five cakes', and the bloke who thinks almonds taste nice. If I were to see my ex walking down the street arm in arm with one of those gentlemen, in fact, I would be somewhat inclined to study myself closely in the mirror, worried that I compared to them in any way.
 
Then again, maybe it isn't the baker who attracts the ladies, but the bakee (if that is indeed a term - you know, the thing they bake). Cakes and confectionary have played large roles in sex for many decades, and there is even a thing known as the erotic cake industry. Forget your body chocolate and your flavoured condoms, here we have an entire industry devoted to creating cakes which look like foo-foos and ha-has. I'm not going to show them here (I'm still not sure on our obscenity policy or the Blogspot terms of use but I still really can't be bothered to check up on it all), but just be aware that these things exist. The next time you buy a cupcake, just imagine what it would be like if you were biting into a bright pink, sponge and icing vagina. I don't know about you, but when I think of vagina cakes I can't get the phrase 'blue waffle' out of my mind. Do we really want to be thinking of blue waffles as we eat?
 
 
Another disturbing thing I have come across in my search for the weirdest and most bizarre sexual cake around, big chocolate sponges shaped like erect penises. I have to ask the question we're all wondering: why? Who would actually have the guts to go into a shop and say 'I'd like to try one of your vaginas please', and who would be happy to eat one of them on a bench in the park? How do people actually feel while making them? I imagine rolling out the dough is a very awkward experience, and I certainly would be no good at it - I still feel awkward going into Subway and asking to have a footlong. Does anybody model for them? If people pose nude for artists, why not for bakers? Of course, its always nice to have your genitals admired, but it'd be super-awkward to walk past Greggs and think 'look at all those people buying replicas of my willie' (and if you can read that sentence without being disturbed, I take my hat off to you... oh dear... I'll give you a nice big hug... no...you deserve a nice pat on the head... oh God).

Besides, cake when used as a metaphor for romance is supposed to be something nice and cuddly. It is a happy image, one you would be happy for your children to experience later in life. It should be, in a single image, this kind of love:


But turn cakes into something devious and sinful, and you turn that look of love into one of creepy lust, like so:


Image Detail
Are we really doing this again?
Yes, we're running low on material.
It's not so much this:


As this:



Get it?

No, there is no way chocolate knobs can turn a person on. They're good for a nice laugh, yes, but are certainly in no way erotic. Besides, how can we think of cake in that way, when cake is supposed to conjure up nice, sweet images of My Kipling sitting by the fireplace with thousands of children around him, trying his hardest to please each and every one of them. How delightful.
 
 
So, to illustrate my point, here are five things which are automatically more likely to turn you on than cake could ever be:

1) Money.
Awwww yeahhhhh
2) Phallic stones.


3) Cheetos.


4) Alyson Hannigan.

One of her first lines in Buffy is 'do you want me to move?'
One of the sexual orders Christian Grey gives Anastasia Steele is 'move'.
Coincidence?
No. They're not even connected you sick weirdo.
(She is pretty though.)

5) The beards of English students.
 
 
Now that we've sorted that out, we can all rest easy in the knowledge that there are in fact some things more sexy than someone who can bake. Yet the discussion must continue. There is still some degree of eroticism within the baking world, but the reason for it is unclear. Next week, I hope I shall be able to lay this entire debate to bed (and at the same time stop having to come up with these nonsensical innuendos). So pop by next Tuesday when I'll be looking at one of the sexiest aspects of baking: physical fitness. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips - why is this sexually attractive? We'll find out very shortly.
 
William D. Green

Tuesday, 16 October 2012

You Don't Love Me, You Only Want Me for My Cakes

As part of my continuing search for the meaning of life, I have looked in many, many places. I have scaled the highest mountains of the world, I have trained body and mind at many a Tibetan monastery, and I have watched The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on as many as two separate occasions in a desperate attempt to figure out the logic behind the suggestion that 42 is the answer to life, the universe and everything (oh, if only Douglas Adams had shown his working like a good pupil). Unfortunately, so far, these attempts have proven rather fruitless.
 
However, imaging my surprise (and irritation) when, during my lengthy journey back to Winchester this morning, I heard the DJ on BBC Radio Oxford going on about The Great British Bake-Off and the way a man who bakes is now the sexiest form of being in existence for the full three hours, only occasionally breaking off to discuss methods of naming rockstar-themed cakes such as the Rolling Scones and briefly attempting to track down a Good Samaritan who did some woman a good deed over the weekend or at some other point in recent history (I wasn't really listening, as I was more concerned with the racism of suggesting, through the usage of the term 'Good Samaritan', that this is a rarity and that all other Samaritans you may stumble across in your lifetime will invariably be horrid little bastards. Is this really the impression we want to give to our children? But more on that later).
 
Anyway, to get back to the point: during this long, dull, unfunny and rather drivelly outpouring of gushiness at the prospect of a TV talent show final filled with hunky men who like nothing better than dipping their long, soft fingers into a wet, creamy batter before transforming it as if by magic into a beautiful, wet, moist sponge, my mind began to wander; and no sooner had it begun to wander than it began to wonder whether what this DJ had said was actually true: are men who bake sexier than those who do not?
 
 
It seems to easy to discuss this problem through a simple comparison test. Gregg Wallace bakes, Justin Bieber sings about babies in a high-pitched whine while flapping his fringe all over the place. Yet, inexplicably, it is the latter most pre-pubescent girls want to party (wink wink nudge nudge) with. In fact, there has been far more scandal caused by Bieber's forty-odd second-long attempt to put a bun in the oven than Gregg Wallace's pudding face ever has. It seems this so-called new discovery does not have as watertight reasoning as was implied.
 
 
Then again, there is another example which appeals more to me: Sophie Dahl bakes, and inexplicably I do have a long-standing desire to catch a glimpse of her perfectly-formed cinnamon rolls (despite my aversion to all things cinnamon-related). Roald Dahl, on the other hand, wrote about a chocolate factory, but we never actually saw him make any chocolate-oriented magic himself. Is it Sophie's culinary prowess which I find so appealling? Well, it must be: I do like a good spotted dick.
 
I'm not even sure how that innuendo means, so I had probably best get back to the discussion. Remember kids: if you get spotted dick, it is probably best to take a tip to your nearest GUM clinic. Stay safe.
 
Oh, Sophie...
 
Back on Earth, I also have to confess myself to be a bit of a baker (although you won't get to see any pictures of my revealing concoctions until week 3). Does this automatically increase my sexual ability/appeal? I'd like to think so.
 
Excuse me while I fend off the hoarde of horny young ladies currently trying to break down my front door...
 
What about my female housemate? She blogs about fashion and waffles. Is her site just porn to people? It's a disturbing thought, isn't it? Be afraid, Charlotte: just think what people do when they log onto your site...
 
Anyway, it looks as though this is not an argument which can be put to bed easily. That is why, ladies, gentlemen and human centipedes, I have decided to create a new, three-part series of articles based about this burning issue, with each part to be published every Tuesday at some point between 8am and 5pm (we're sorry but we can't be more specific: we can only specify between 8 and 5 - well then you'll just have to wait in all day, then, won't you? Lazy people). It'll definitely be worth it if just to see if I can come up with two innuendo-laden titles in the next fortnight which successfully turn cake into sex.
 
But don't I have other things to do?
 
Yes, but they can wait.
 
So, come back next week, when I'll be having a look at the quickly-flourishing trade in cake-based erotica. Can something as simple as a Swiss roll turn us on?
 
Probably.
 
And then in part three there'll be something about medical health, using the best possible source I can find (I'm not sure what it'll be yet. I can't be bothered to find a book on it. I'll probably ask someone in my household. Maybe Eliot).
 
I'll see you shortly.
 
William D. Green
 
There was going to be a picture of a penis-shaped cake in this article, but I'm not sure whether I'm allowed to do that. I'll have to check the PC Rulebook. You can find very strange things on Google...

Thursday, 23 August 2012

The Single Girl's Guide to the Doctors

My feelings towards going to the Doctor’s fluctuate depending on how antagonistic I’m feeling. If I’m ill, I know that I’m ill and somebody else telling me isn’t going to make me feel better. And anyway, my local surgery is just ridiculous. It takes all your snotty effort to phone them, only to be told they have no appointments…unless it’s urgent, in which case you can ‘drop in’ between the hours of 11.30 and the first Tuesday of 2016, to see the duty doctor.
 
Previously, my response to 'is it urgent?' has been, 'yeah, I’d say so; I can’t see out of one eye…' which was deemed important enough that I was encouraged to sit in the waiting room from 11.30 until who knows when just in case a doctor became available. However, I have recently figured out a sure-fire way for any girl to secure an appointment…
 
'Is it urgent?'
'Uhm yeah.'
'Could I ask what it is that’s wrong?'
'Well, I’m on the pill, and…'
 
Sorted!
 
I think (well, I hope I’m not the only one) that any girl will have experienced the way that whatever reason you are at the Doctor’s, you will always be confronted with that dreaded, awkward question…
 
'Are you sexually active?'
 
This question is just fine if you’re in a relationship! You can answer a very simple 'yes', perhaps followed by the story of how you met and a to-the-second update on how long you have been together.
 
So what’s the answer if you’re single?!
 
Never mind, I think my red chinos, buttoned up colour, and cardigan with foxes on was saying something quite the contrary to ‘absolute sex goddess’…
 
The awkwardness begins to peak as it’s time to take off clothes. Unbuttoning my trousers*, which is strange enough as it is, especially if like me you decide it to be an ideal time to make eye contact with your Doctor, I had that crazy panic which I’m pretty sure everyone else does (okay, maybe just me)… What knickers am I wearing? Have I shaved my legs?
 
(For the record, I had ridiculous yellow and pink spotty knickers on which made my arse resemble that of Mr. Blobby, and no, I hadn’t shaved my legs…)
 
The crazy thing is – and I know Doctor’s genuinely don’t care what knickers I’m wearing – but I don’t even know what underwear I would deem suitable to be wearing. Anything too lacy, stringy or see-through would surely be a bit on the slutty side, but anything featuring cute frogs or Disney characters isn’t highlighting your maturity levels and making your health (sexual, or otherwise) seem that paramount…
 
Since I’m tapping into the part of my brain where I store all my awkward situations… when I went for my Cervical Cancer jabs when I was sixteen, the (male) Doctor advised me to remove my shirt for the injections… this really wasn’t necessary… I had a short-sleeved t-shirt on.
 
Perv.
 
Now excuse me whilst I eat an apple a day.
 
Harriet Baker

* After receiving a text from my friend saying "Why did you have to take your trousers off at the Doctors?!", I feel I need to justify that I was at the Doctor's coz I have dodgy legs and my chino's were too tight (or maybe my calves were too fat) to roll them up. Thus, I had to take them off. Ok?!

Saturday, 14 July 2012

The 'Friend Zone' and Its Darker Tones.


They say that a picture speaks louder than words...

At first glances the miserable young man, could be portrayed as 'gentleman', paying homage to my previous articles.  But when looking deeper into this image (and by 'deeper', I mean 'taking into account the wonderful caption'), we see that this chivalric male does not seem to be the boyfriend, or 'mating partner for the evening' but is, in fact, SOMETHING MUCH WORSE...

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...

A 'friend'.

This term - 'friend' - brings me to the title of this article, 'The Friend Zone and Its Darker Tones'. Now, I am sure you are all aware of  the term 'friend zone', but for those still left in the dark by this amalgamation of familiar words, let me enlighten you with a brief definition from the Urban Dictionary:

'Friend Zone - This is the worst position someone can be in, if they have feelings for someone. When a person develops romantic feelings for someone, but the other person only sees the relationship as just being friends. Because the two are around each other a lot, the one in love will harbor his/her feelings for the other, only to become completely consumed by this person. This leads the one in love to complain to all of his/her friends about the situation, and to become "pussy whipped" by the other.'

I think the majority of us can relate somewhat to the above definition, having that one friend who you may want something more with; but I'm sorry readers - they only want you for your services... and not the services you are thinking about, you dirty, dirty reader.

Bummer.

So, 'what can we do if we find ourselves in this zone of friendship?', I hear you ask. Well, you probably didn't ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Here are a few simple steps to help remove you from this closet of emotion.

1) Spooning - You may feel that this is a somewhat forward approach to overcoming this obstacle, but let's face it, the occasional hug when saying 'hello/goodbye' to someone will not result in you going home with the said friend, therefore reinforcing this bastion of friendship. Spooning itself is a positive approach in the right direction - it leads to closeness (created in an increase of physical contact), and alludes to darker undertones. I must also add that these darker undertones are negated by the innocent nature of spooning, therefore abolishing all traces of negative connotations... so you're going to be okay.


... which is always a good thing.
2) Talking - If the subtle, 'rapey' persona isn't working for you, then I suppose talking could help. On the other hand, it could make things much, much worse... but kudos for trying!Worst case scenario: you express how you feel and he/she freaks out and, five minutes later, you've lost a good friend. So it's not all bad! Maybe expressing your true feelings may aid the predicament you are stuck in - who knows, they may be feeling the same and are waiting for you to make the first move. But nine times out of ten that is not the case. They hang around with you as you make them feel better about themselves. On a more serious note, talking results in a clearer mind, as it takes the weight off the entire situation, everything is up in the air, and there is nothing else you can do other than let fate work its magic. As mentioned earlier, kudos for trying!


3) Subtle hinting - This should probably be number one, but it is rather time-consuming and if you're looking for a quick fix, this may not be the ideal route to take. It does however prove to be a worthwhile approach if you are serious and devoted. It may also prove to be a laugh too!

One thing I must point out: You must NOT be this obvious...
I SAID 'SUBTLE', GUYS!

There are many ways in which you can make subtle moves, whether this is due to you increasing your physical contact with the person in question, or maybe even slowly planning out the rest of your life with them. All these ideas will slowly imprint and ingrain on the recipient's brain. It may sound creepy, but you could even mentally condition your best friend to love you...

Conclusion - I think the above points could prove to be helpful when taken into consideration, but I need a closing statement in order to seal the deal and bring this article to a close.

So, do you want my advice?

DON'T GO THERE.

I like to think of a friend as a comfortable item of clothing, whether that is:
- Trackie bottoms
- Shoes
- Hoodie
- T-Shirt

You like to do everything with your favourite trackie bottoms, go everywhere with your favourite trackie bottoms, show off your new trackie bottoms to everyone; but when it comes down to the crunch (if you can even call it 'the crunch'), do you really want to badoinkadoink* your favourite item of clothing?

No you do not.

For those who do not heed my warning, I will close with this final picture.

This could be you**

Alex White

* Badoinkadoink - It means exactly what you think it means - courtesy of Kat Darlington
** You - Can relate to both male and females...

Monday, 4 June 2012

The Single Girl’s Guide to the Bewilderment and Bollocks of Dating

In this article I will attempt to uncover the level of bollocks in a series of, what I consider to be, frequent problematic assumptions within the realm of relationships.

1)      “We can just spoon”

Unless he’s gay, she’s gay, he’s completely sizzled, she’s paralytic or she’s feeling menstruriffic, this always leads to something – if not everything – else.

2)      Nice guys finish last…

My lovely Mum once told me that I should be friends with a guy before we start ‘going out’, and whilst this has worked (I use the term ‘worked’ loosely, obviously it didn’t work coz I’m spending my Saturday night watching Eurovision and writing an article about being single) for me before, nowadays it seems to me that girls drop the dreaded ‘F’ bomb the minute a guy is nice, interesting and seems to care.

I love my guy friends – I mean they let me write this superficial waffle for The Pessimist Chronicles – and I spend my time envying the lucky girls that they will one day put a ring on, but I don’t want them for myself. The friendship grenades have been thrown and the result is a crazy explosion of amazing friendships J

 If she opens up to you emotionally, you may as well chuck your parents the papers to adopt her as your sister.

If she tells you about the guys she’s ‘seeing’, do you really think she is romantically interested in you?

But to all you nice guys out there – don’t change. Sure, the idiots always seem to get made breakfast by the girls who spend hours crying down the phone to you, but this doesn’t have to be the way! If she’s honestly worth sacrificing friendship for then still be nice, but make it clear that she’s special.  Nice guys can finish first; you just gotta stop her lighting the fuse on the ‘F’ bomb.

3)      “I can usually do this with one hand”…

Look, I can’t undo my own bra with one hand, in fact when I put it on in the morning I do the crazy sexy thing of doing it up at the front then spinning it round. So, whilst I will be reasonably impressed if you remove it in a James Bond-esque manner, it’s not really standard bra behaviour.
If you don’t have an 100% one-handed-bra-removal rate, don’t bother trying. It’s just embarrassing and a bit awkward.

As the infinitely wise Shania Twain once said, “That don’t impressa me much”.

4)      “I’m not like other guys/girls”
Pretending to be someone you’re not is just never a good idea. Fine, if mission is accomplished after you trick them into “just a spoon”. But what happens, god forbid, if you're still seeing them sixth months down the line?

How do you explain the fact that you’ve stopped going to Church? That you don't actually like N*Sync? That you're naturally an idiot? You're married...? What happens when your friends  drunkenly call them “Number 30” to their face, when they think you’ve only slept with two people?
How do you tell her you don’t like musicals? She’d rather go with her friends and enjoy it, then have you to her left trying to figure out how many over-priced Maltesers you need up your nose and in your mouth before you stop breathing.


Whilst it’s embarrassing when my friends tell guys I meet that I love comics, and reading and cats, I’ve come to the realisation it’s best they know from the word ‘Go’, rather than find out when they enter my creepy library of cats. That’s not a euphemism, but I think it should be.


5)      “My ex was a …”

…Slut, Idiot, Nutter…

If they’re calling their ex that, they will probably talk about you like that a few months down the line. Plus it shows they cannot accept any responsibility for their part in a failed relationship. Also it’s mean.

Similarly:

… Model, Porn-star, Royal, Volunteer for every Charity, ever.

Some things don’t need to be shared, comparisons are always unnecessary.


So that was super helpful.
Now let’s put our prettiest dresses  and smartest shirts on and hit the bars...

I’m ready…




Harriet Baker

Sunday, 6 May 2012

She Gives Me Butterflies - OH REALLY?

Following a recent conversation with my psychologist sister, we discussed the term 'butterflies' and what the general reasoning was behind this. So, heading onto medical sites I found a fairly interesting result from an illusive character by the name of 'Coach Virginia'. Here is what she had to say...

'When you get nervous or scared, your body gives you a shot of energy in the form of a naturally derived hormone (epinephrine = adrenaline) which is secreted from the adrenal glands. This process is a part of the sympathetic nervous system that all mammals have. In situations of high stress, epinephrine is secreted in order to help the individual cope with the stress; physiologically, it allows the individual to increase his/her heart rate, which in turn, increases the rate of glycogenalysis, creating more energy and allowing the individual to run faster, jump higher, and perform better. In other words, it has to do with an automatic reaction of neurotransmitters that manifests in your stomach.

'The increase in heart rate, due to the stressful situation, is also commonly known as "nervousness". This nervousness can manifests into many symptoms including the "butterfly" feeling in the stomach. The related biological term is called "fight or flight", which is what you do to make the stressful situation go away... you either deal with it (fight) or get away from it (flight).'
So, the next time someone of the opposite (or, indeed, same) sex gives you 'butterflies', you are actually draining all of the blood from your stomach and pumping your limbs full with all this lovely supply. So when it comes to the crunch, your metabolism slows, in a desperate bid to run away OR potentially fight them.
Nice huh?
Alex White

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

The Single Girl’s Guide to Being a Pathetic Single Girl

It has been said that hypocrisy is great fodder for comedy and I’ve got a massive issue with people who make Facebook statuses which are so clearly directed at somebody. Said ‘somebody’ will almost inevitably see it before spending the next week contemplating how passive aggressive it will be to ‘like’ the status in question.

Today a girl I went to school with (not too sure I’ve ever actually spoken to her in my life… might delete her off Facebook now…) made such a status which, although I doubt it was, seemed like it was aimed at little old me. Unfortunately she has now deleted the status (probably couldn’t cope with the passive aggressive ‘liking’ that ensued) so I cannot recreate it here with fidelity. Basically it said how people who post Facebook statuses about being single just look desperate and pathetic.

Ouch.

I spent the next half hour Facebook stalking myself to see if I was that girl… Luckily I don’t think that this was me, the only reference towards my singlepringledom being my verbatim statusing of this hilarious exchange between my parents:

Mum: "You don't want to end up left on the shelf, Harriet".
Dad: "She won't be left on the shelf. There's plenty of blind people."

Nevertheless, pathetic paranoia has set in…

I never really realised until a few weeks ago, but I self-deprecate like Susan Boyle on Britain’s Next Top Model.*

My main points of self-deprecation are:


1) My relationship status… case in point: this series of articles.
2) My weight
3) My intelligence, or lack thereof – see, there’s an example right there.


I would count belittlement to be a prevalent personality trait in many Britons. Nevertheless, be it with the intention of humour, attention seeking or out of a genuine sense of self-loathing, at what point does self-deprecation actually just become pathetic?

Now, I have had this article on the go for a good three weeks now and I haven’t quite got an answer to my question, so I am handing it over to the wonderful readers of The Pessimist Chronicles

What would you prefer in a friend, lover, co-captain, hamster or any other relationship…
self-confidence or self-deprecation?
(Sorry, no middle-ground allowed)

Harriet Baker

* That was mean, sorry SuBo L Here’s a picture of an insanely happy fish to make up for it.

Monday, 9 April 2012

Financially Stable, or Sexually Able?

So I find myself in this situation once again. I am conversing with a good friend, who we shall name 'Will' for this article's sake. It goes a little something like this:

Me: Hey buddy, fancy doing something this evening?

Will: Sorry buddy, I'm going to the cinema with my girlfriend.

Me: Alright, are you free next Tuesday?

Will: Ah, no, I'm afraid not. I'm taking my girlfriend out for dinner.

So, a week passes, and I make the ever-familiar phone call.

Me: Hey Will, wanna go and grab some beers?

Will: Sorry man, I'm skint... Joys of being a student. I'll come out when I have more money.

So this is what niggles me.

STUDENT LIFE, EH?

Now, I warn you, dear readers - this article is not going to be short. I may not get my entire moan out, and for that I apologise. It was at my dear friend's statement that I thought to myself, how much money goes into a relationship? Numbers may not be my 'thing', but I'm going to crunch a couple for you now.




So lets talk about travel first. I do have a friend who used to have a boyfriend in America, but she's an anomaly, so let's just cut that one out. We need to take into account that we need to pay to get places, unless we are:

a) Living with said partner

b) Not bothering to see partner

or

c) Paula Radcliffe

But enough about Paula... let's put ourselves in a hypothetical situation. The 'said partner' lives approximately 20 miles away. This would cost a tenner in petrol for a return trip. Multiply this by the times per week you would see them - let's say you're a loving person. So... three times?

That's £30 per week. Let's times that again by 40, because let's face it, you'll get sick of them.

So in total you get... computing... computing... £1,200?

Now that's a lot of money.




A cinema trip to see a newly-released film, IN THE THIRD DIMENSION (and preferably starring Nicholas Cage).

Being the male in a relationship and being such a wonderful man, you will pay for the tickets. You will also be an absolute charmer and buy popcorn and drinks.

Student (£6.90 x 2) = £13.80
3D (+£1.60 x 2) = £3.20
Drinks/shared popcorn = £6
This will equate to... £23!

Most (nice) boyfriends will do this once every two months as a little treat, which is nice for both parties but still means that, over a year (if the couple are still together, as some may not be due to unforeseen circumstances or people) that the person will spend £138 on cinema trips.

Gees Louise.





Now, I like food as much as the next guy. Who am I kidding? I probably love it more than the little fella' above. Which now leads on nicely to buying food out. To the mega-classy guys like myself, this can vary from the delicious McDonald's to the ever-satisfying KFC. Yet again, a guy forks out double: this could range from anything between £10 - £15 a time (just make sure you use your Student ID for a free cheeseburger). This will occur, on average, twice a month.




If you're a really swell guy then there is always the option of something better. I hear you questioning this statement, and yes, there is somewhere even more upmarket than Burger King. It may be a special occasion, and you may want to celebrate it with something special. So how about a nice meal? Sounds like a brilliant idea. This would cost anything from £20 - £50, so we'll meet in the middle and say £35. This will be done on average twice a year. So that's £70... that's £200 on food! CRIKEY!



So...

Birthdays.

Everyone has one, and guess what? ONCE A YEAR TOO. Most couples will spoil each other rotten on their birthdays, with hundreds of pounds being spent on wonderful gifts. However, we are students and have very limited disposable income; therefore let us limit this budget to £70.

This could buy some nice jewellery, a nice day out, a Lego set, or a dick in a box. When talking about gifts/presents we also need to take into account the other little presents given spontaneously. So we can total this up to £50 for the year too.

How could I forget Christmas? Let's throw another £80 on top for that too. We now have £200 in gifts for the year.

Being an English student, my maths is not my primary concern; however I will now continue to add up the money spent in a year.

Travel - £1,200
Cinema - £138
Food - £200
Presents - £200

Total - £1,738

That is a lot of money.... Think of all the things you could buy!
  • A Gibson Explorer - £998 (and still have lots of change).
  • A Samsung 3D TV - £1,699.

  • A second-hand Ford Focus - £1,000.

  • 1,738 cheeseburgers.

  • 173,800 x 1p sweets

  • A holiday to somewhere students go (Spain?)... Priceless.

I think that maybe I can sacrifice the loving life just to have the money.

But can you?

Alex White

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