I wouldn’t say I’m particularly proud of being flat-chested, it’s just the way I am. But it is nice to be able to find nice bras that fit and aren’t ridiculously padded like they are in Singapore.
(I’m a UK 6 and do you know how bloody hard it is to find nice clothing in the UK where the average female size is 14? Some places don’t even stock anything smaller than a 10, for fuck’s sake. This may explain why I’ve latched onto All Saints, Urban Outfitters, and H&M.)
It’s probably pained my mother (slightly) for years that I am not only flat-chested but also still not very feminine. I still get mistaken for a bloke — most recently, this weekend just gone.
Sorry, Neil, everyone thinks you bat for the other team.
Anyway. H&M makes decent underwear in my size but it’s not always in stock. I’m also as picky about my undergarments as I am about the clothes I wear over them, so no one should ever be forced to go shopping with me. Unless it’s a sociological experiment or they’re Gok Wan. I fantasise about him trying to give me a new look and me rejecting 90% of his suggested ‘capsule wardrobe’ and makeover ideas, saying, “I don’t wear pink / pastels / lace / waist belts / maxi anything / frills / ruffles / fur / sequins / stiletto heels / nail polish.”
More 4 in the UK has been repeating some of Richard Dawkins’ ‘greatest hits’ — last week it was Faith Schools Menace? (they certainly are, education is not about ideology) and this week it was The God Delusion. I found the book somewhat over-strident, and with the series, Dawkins did bait his interview subjects. But some of their reactions were astounding.
What I simply cannot understand is how people of science (doctors and scientists and so on) can unquestioningly believe in a virgin birth, miracles, and resurrection. Or that you must believe in the white-haired bearded one before you can be saved, and that everyone who believes must spread the bloody word. I don’t need to be saved! I want to live my life to the full while I’m alive, without worrying about being called into account by some bloke named Peter.
What’s wrong with atheists who are good because they want to be? Religion is not a prerequisite for morality and decency. I have no issue with people who do follow an organised religion, but please don’t evangelise, it’s really annoying. I was so alarmed while watching The God Delusion that I rang Neil just to confirm that while he considers himself a Christian, he sides with the theory of evolution and other scientific evidence that show us how the world is made. He’s a cultural Christian, like Philip Pullman.
Why does God have to be anthropomorphised, anyway? Nature is so bloody amazing that it should be our god.
This is exactly what I saw when I headed out last night for the List Festival Party (note to self: there’s a reason why you don’t go out on school nights*). A whole row of men in metal or plastic cuffs, being watched by police and police dogs. I had no idea what it was about, but turns out it could be over football.
* I am so tired I’m convinced I’m still asleep and this is all part of a dream.
This is the Nolita dress by Eve Gravel. It’s nice because it’s simple and straight.
Did you know my sister’s joined the ranks of fashion bloggers?
But I digress.
(Read more.)
Getting lunch in central London sure is expensive. On the upside, I’m going to be meeting up with some cool people this week.
Yeah, so getting my wisdom teeth out was unpleasant. The needles delivering the anaesthetic are smaller, I think, from when I got my pre-molars out in 1988, but it still hurt. Not quite like a mofo, but it wasn’t nice. Then the drilling and pushing and loud cracking sounds weren’t nice either.
My face looks fine but for a little swelling, but the pain is perfectly manageable with paracetamol and ibuprofen. I feel a wee bit like I’ve been punched in the face. And I’m back at work! I’m hard core, I am.
The worst thing? I can’t eat solid food. I’ve been eating yoghurt and soup and I am so fucking hungry all the time. I almost wept seeing Neil eat a pizza last night — pizza has never looked so good. And don’t tell me about ice cream. I like ice cream fine, but only in small amounts. I need real food.
Let’s hope the next round of wisdom teeth removal in three weeks’ time is as smooth.
Strange, isn’t it? The Internet is a great democratiser, but it’s also helped to concentrate power in only a few hands. I’m sure this isn’t exactly groundbreaking news, but my “I built my own website!” self is really having trouble coming to terms with it (but embracing it at the same time, I know I’ve written about it before but I can’t find it).
The web is shrinking! With the popularity of Facebook and Twitter (and their apps), there are probably five gazillion more pages out there. But the information on these sites lives and dies there.
It makes my life easier as a marketer to have these huge, aggregated sites that almost everyone visits — I can plan strategies with much more ease (notwithstanding my current question on how well these applications will display on mobile devices as they get more and more complex). I’m still occasionally obliged to build and/or manage a microsite, but one thing I’ve noticed there is a real dearth of these days is the fan site. There might be one or two that are real draws, but more people are likely to pledge allegiance in their profiles or on the Facebook Pages themselves.
It must be human nature to be lazy. The Web was this Wild West-y sort of place and it still sort of is — but for the most part, the mainstream have decided to take the path of least resistance and join up with these mega sites so they are ‘hanging out’ where everyone else is. I’m betting there are fewer weblogs now that social network and micro-blogging sites have really taken off.
There are still some excellent sites, thank goodness, but I guess this is the way the world works. There may have been a technological revolution and there’s all this talk about how kids are so different because they’re ‘digital natives’, but there hasn’t been a revolution in human behaviour. We’re still lazy shits who, generally, want to enjoy the fruits of other people’s labours.
My colleague, on hearing that I’ve made an appointment to get my wisdom teeth out, advised me to ‘bring my iPod’. She said having her iPod on and playing allowed her to distract herself when she got her braces removed.
When I got my braces removed, MP3s weren’t even a format yet. Oh, how old I am!
(I don’t have an iPod, in any case. I still use a trusty teeny tiny Creative Zen Stone that does the job perfectly well.)
