Watercooler 0: Nothing Is A Problem For Me

Get them to make up their own fake societies of imaginary lands, based on satire of the predominating cultural trends of today. I think that would make them realise the snide wit in Swift.

Aye, then the editor made an arse of it by spouting some crap about "you can still rock a crowd wearing stilletos" and dropped the cover that was supposed to feature the 5 women in the top ten in favour of Muse.

Lily Allen has a wee go at NME

And garg, is that true, Onimo? Oh god, that is just so depressing. I bought the thing because of the tiny picture of the three women made me open up and see if the list was any good. And then they go and blow it all, with that kind of crap?

I wish I hadn't bought the thing now.

I sentence Conor to spend the next five years trying to even walk wearing stilettoes. And getting about a dozen of them jacked up his sexist arse.

First one I went in, the gang of about three lads hanging around the door (some of whom worked there) didn't even move to let me in the shop. OK, you're not getting my money.

Second shop, the bloke on the desk is helping someone else, so I kinda hang around looking at guitar straps and stuff until he's nearly done. I go and stand by the desk, very obviously waiting to be served - oh, except for the fact I'm female. Another customer comes up, pushes by me (not even an excuse me) - I let him go as I'm assuming he's heading out the door, but no. He pushes ahead of me and starts asking the bloke on the desk about harmonicas. Like I'm not even there. I felt like cracking him in the head with a guitar going EXCUSE ME BUT I WAS HERE FIRST!!!

He goes to look at the harmonicas, but dude on the desk is just staring off into space - despite the fact I'm standing there waiting to be served. I had to go and ask someone else to help me. I should really have walked out of the shop and kept going to different shops and only paid my money at a shop that acknowledged females, but you know, it was lunchtime and I did need to get back to my office before the hour was up.

This shit is just so depressing. :-(

It was discussed on the ILM "Worst NME cover" thread just before ILM died (here's a cached copy of the thread)

Ugh, I feel just... unclean any time I read an ILM thread like that.

In 1993 Riot Grrrrls did a glass ceiling chart emphasising this point and one of us (me) was ticked off by the person who was the NME features editor (male) of the time because "what about RACISM?" Oh FFS. I think I told him if he was so bothered about racism he should find a way to give more work to a certain writer in their office about music other than hip-hop.

There is an irony in there somewhere, considering who the features ed was...

See also the running Plan B letters column of people going "blah blah, what's with all the women on the cover, are you just trying to prove a point?" or something like that to Frances or ET, and Frances put them down quite succinctly, saying "no, we put these bands on the cover because WE LIKE THEM"

I've often thought that we'll only know we've got over sexism when people stop making any sort of fuss about overcompensating. The Plan B editorial management presumably have reached that phase - clearly the letter-writers haven't. And the same goes for other -isms too, of course.

Anyway, my sore throat is still sore, and (for other reasons) I'm feeling a bit emo. I need to pull my finger out of my arse,* talk to the woman who wants me as just a body to play with (whilst dating other men as potential boyfriend material) and say: "look, you know, this just isn't what I'm looking for". If I can, I should do it *before* my forthcoming date (with someone who knows all about the situation and how I feel about it, but, even so, you know)

* not literally. Both my hands are on the keyboard right now.

xxp to me

http://static.flickr.com/113/302178693_5389751043.jpg

I've slid back into depression over the past few days, which is teh suck. Sometimes it's like slipping back into a lukewarm bath, long after it's stopped being comfortable, just because it's familiar.

And even more suck because I feel like I'm not even allowed to talk about the things that are the triggers, I'll just be shouted at and told I'm not allowed to feel the things I feel.

Sigh.

Ah well. There was a boy on the bus this morning with a nose as pointed as the prow of a ship, pale strawberry blond hair and eyelashes that were almost white, though half an inch long. Beauty. Beauty is really the only thing that ever makes me feel any better.

Streatham (no barrier) to City Thameslink (no barrier) then a bendy bus from there to Holborn.

OK, I'm going to go to Farringdon on my way home, and will have to buy a ticket home there, but honestly. I could retrace my steps and get a whole day's free travel.

And New Order on the headphones, trying to get psyched up. Bleurgh.

I'm just in one of those "nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I'm gonna eat some worms" moods.

Hi there. First class of the last day was strangely shitty. Students (as I might have expected) didn't want to talk about A Modest Proposal, or their favorite texts from the term, or how much they love me. They just wanted to get it over with and back to their LIVES. Can't blame 'em, I suppose.

I'm hoping (and guessing) that the other class (which, is, it must be said, usually the 'good' class) will be a lot better.

No one in the class said a fcking thing.

(though man, what a stiff bunch they are if they can't even be wound up by such a wind-up.)

No, I knew which thread I was posting on. Isn't this for random work-related venting (yes yes and DDBs and pointy-nosed boys).

Sigh.

I have just got back from raiding Borders for my grandmother's Christmas present, a rather oversize book of maps of the world from the Middle Ages. And it's now a month until I fly away to America for the New Year...these happy thoughts are fighting away the ickyness of being covered from head to foot in water from a passing lorry earlier this morning. At least I'm dry now!