Cut Corners.

“Alrighty, folks, welcome aboard American Airlines, we're currently reaching about 20,000 feet. Apologies for our delay on the ground, but we're going to do whatever it takes and cut any corners we can to get you there closer to schedule. For the moment, keep your seatbelts fastened as we're expecting a little turbulence for the next little bit and we hope you enjoy your flight.”

No. Thank you, but no, please, that's alright. There's no rush, really.

It's a very unsettling thing to hear. The term “cut corners” should not be used when referring to 500 people hurtling through the sky above the Atlantic ocean.

What does that even mean -"cut corners"? How does one speed up this process? We're already flying. What else is there?! Is it simply a matter of putting the pedal to the metal? Taking a shortcut?

I've seen enough movies. I watch the news. You go a few degrees off target so you can get Mr. Smith sitting up there in business class to his 10am board meeting? Throw in a little fog, next thing an engine gives out and you're gonna have little Suzy and Bobby Smith digging through rubble for bits of their father's body like they're looking for the toy in a box of cereal.

Is that what you want, you sick fucks? IS IT?

Look, let's just stick with the original plan. If we're twenty, thirty minutes late, what of it? What's the rush? Oh, is this view of blue skies and fluffy clouds boring you? Are you severely inconvenienced by having to sit on your ass watching movies while being brought free drinks? Oh, I'm sorry, are you in a terrible rush to get back to your job and your bills and your asshole of a cat?

Yeah, no, let's just sit here and be patient and we'll get there when we get there, in one piece, which is what really matters, right? Can we do that?

Thank you.

The age of aquarius OR For she's a jolly good fellow Pt 2

I'm turning 30 this week, which simply means I've been alive for some abstract number of rotations around the sun, but culturally means I'm a legit grown-up. I'm no longer young enough to qualify for the cheap, youth tickets to the Canadian Opera Company but I'm not old enough to read their acronym without grinning. I'm in maturity limbo.

I had a potluck Saturday night to celebrate, and I kinda had a few words to say. Throughout the night when friends would ask how I felt about turning 30, I just smiled, shrugged and changed the subject because I didn't want to use up my nuggets of wisdom before it was time for my few words. I imagined I'd say them after everyone sang Happy Birthday while I blew out the candles on my Baskin Robbins ice-cream cake. Everyone would cheer and then I'd chime my fork against my champagne glass to hush them before humbly starting my speech. In my mind, there may have been a podium too. But in real life there was no ice-cream cake, thankfully, because nobody really needs ice-cream cake when your friends make you double-Bourbon cupcakes and apple pie and lobster dip and etc. Besides, I don't have a podium (how embarrassing), or a champagne glass for that matter. It was the loveliest night and so good to have so many of my favourite people in Toronto all together at once. But I didn't end up sharing my thoughts on the whole thing.
So.

All I know for sure about turning 30 is that I'll no longer be in my 20s. And my twenties were quite the decade for me. 

I broke Xstraight edgeX after an eight year run.

I "lost my virginity", at least in the oppressively heteronormative, cis-centric sense, at the tender age of 23.

I finally made the transition from pads to tampons, and I only did it two summers ago in the bathroom of Ronnie's Local before almost immediately passing out and fearing I had Toxic Shock Syndrome. (I didn't. I ate a burrito and felt better.)

And sure, some people might be a little freaked out at the idea of turning 30 and, say, not knowing how to drive.

Or turning 30 and not having a house.

Or a baby.

Or a real job.

Or any real career prospects to speak of whatsoever....

...or having no idea who's going to look after them when they're old and decrepit...

...

Pfft, but not me.

I'm just happy I made it out of my 20s without incurring any crippling debt, or catching any sexually transmitted diseases and in fact, really only having 3-4 consensually ambiguous sexual encounters tops and without having to get my wisdom teeth removed.

Plus, I learned a lot in my twenties. For example, that friendships get better with age.
 And yes, a good man is hard to find but they do exist.
That life is short, so say what you mean and mean what you say. 
And in the words of my old college roommate, Joanne, that nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission. 
And in the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, to always pee after sex. 
Sometimes I get those two mixed up.

But really, I don't feel anything about turning 30 other than it sounds weird. Like, "Hi, my name's Amanda, I'm thirty" sounds crazy to me. But it's a'ight, it's cool. And not just because I still get carded at the LCBO or still dress like I'm 21 or still pick the marshmallows out of my Lucky Charms or any cutesy nonsense that's meant to signify I'm still good ol', young-at-heart me inside. Barf. It's cool to be a grown-ass woman because experiences. Who would you rather have dinner with, an old broad who's lived through wars and revolutions, and probably has a few neat scars, or at least some good records you can steal, -or some dumb baby who just sits there with apple sauce on its face and hasn't done anything cool and only has a six word lexicon? I rest my case.

Anyway, they say "you're only as old as you feel", in which case I am slightly hungover years old. Or there's also "you're only as old as who you feel", in  which case I am still only 27-ish years old, I think. Whatever. Hey, in Korea, you're considered aged 1 from birth, meaning I'm already 31. Now, 31...that will be an appropriate birthday for a Baskin Robbins ice-cream cake, eh? Eh?

That's right, I just tied this post up in a fucking bow.

CuckYou.

The European Common Cuckoo is an asshole. Well, the technical term is a brood parasite. Basically, Mama Cuckoo will lay her eggs in another bird's nest, so that some schmuck of a pigeon or something gets stuck raising her kid. Papa Cuckoo is a sneaky fuck too, often he'll cause a distraction in order to lure the schmuck birds away from the nest so Mama can get in there and deposit her business (she has actually evolved to do this quickly and discretely). And Baby Cuckoo isn't innocent in this Jerry Springer-esque nonsense either, it's the skeeziest of the bunch -it hatches quicker than the schmuck babies, grows faster, and pushes the schmuck eggs and/or chicks out of the nest so it doesn't have to share regurgitated worms with nobody. It's born with that instinct. Ugh, kids are the worst.
Unfortunately, birds don't have access to DNA swabs and lie detector tests and sassy audience members to give them sage advice -which is a shame, because I would totally watch that show.

Just a thought.

For she's a jolly good fellow.

Oh man, a friend just posted a clip of Disney's Fantasia on facebook, and it brought back some traumatising memories I thought I'd share!

It's nearly my eighth birthday. I'm not a kid anymore. Previous birthdays involved tea-parties with my mom and my dolls, mostly just my dolls. I really loved dolls. But not this year, I'm eight and I'm ready to have a real birthday party, with real friends! Or at least real kids my age. It's going to be a normal party, we're going to do the things normal kids do, there will be rice krispie buns and we'll watch movies and everyone will leave thinking "Amanda is so cool and normal!".

Being normal is important when you're eight.

So I invited about ten kids from my class, including two boys, which was kind of a big deal. Gerard was my on-off boyfriend all through primary school (I'm pretty sure we held hands once) and Podge had big brown eyes and the biggest mushroom-step haircut in the class, like woah.

So everyone comes, and they give me sparkly note pads and glitter glue pens and squishy bracelets, you know the typical neon fare for a birthday in the early nineties (apart from one girl who gave me this really unusual but pretty silk flower in a glass vase filled with water.. kind of like this. Which I liked so much I bought a similar one for a girl's birthday the following year who looked at it in disgust and said "Why are you giving me a grave ornament?")

Anyway, all is going well and then it's time for the movie. My mom had rented a video earlier, and when I asked what she'd gotten I hadn't heard of it, but she assured me she asked the clerk for something for a birthday and I figured it must just be a new release. What followed was the most embarrassing twenty minutes of my life at that stage. 

Have you ever seen Fantasia?!

 It's fucking weird as shit. All I really remember is that it was weird and creepy and there were no words, and there were hippos dancing in tutus and I couldn't decide if I thought it was for babies, or for grown ups (high grown ups) but it was definitely not appropriate viewing for a normal eight year old's birthday. Normal kids had normal moms who rented normal movies like Hook or the Goonies or the Neverending Story 2: The Next Chapter. What kind of bullshit was this?!  Oh god, and everyone was like  "Uh... what is this, Amanda?" and I'm all "Um... I think it gets better", thinking "It HAS to get better!" until I eventually  begged my mom to let me turn it off despite her telling me I was being silly and ungrateful and everyone probably wanted to see the end. No, mom, nobody wants to see the end!
 And that was the day I decided never to even try be cool ever again. I think it was the first time I truly experienced embarrassment. If I ever have a kid I will be force-screening Fantasia at it's eighth birthday for character building purposes, and for kicks.


UPDATE!
I found a couple old photographs from that particular birthday the other week, so I thought I'd add one. I'm in the pink and purple ensemble.

violence begets

No doubt about it, hacking somebody to death with a meat cleaver is pretty brutal and inexcusable. So too is claiming to do such a thing in the name of a religion. But at the same time...

Look I don't know all the facts about Woolwich. Sure, Woolwich has got me thinking about this stuff but I'm NOT talking about Woolwich in particular here, okay? I'm being hypothetical and shit.

If you sign up to the military (of whatever country) and you are sent abroad, and you end up killing people -some of whom may be what you or your government consider "bad" people, but some of whom are inevitably going to be innocent bystanders, and you manage to deal with it by not thinking about these people you have killed as people as real as your own family, friends, neighbours, because you are just being a brave and upstanding citizen serving your country and/or fighting for freedom -fine. But if one day, then somebody chops you up -or  chops up one of your friends or family members.. well...   it's horrible but don't be a fucking hypocrite about it. 

Just because it happens on a nice paved street with a Boots and a Tesco Express instead of some dusty dirt track in some foreign country where you think that stuff belongs, doesn't make it worse.
That violence doesn't belong anywhere and it's not any more okay when it happens to poor people in war torn countries. Is it more shocking when it happens in your own neighbourhood? Sure. But it's not any more unjust.

Those who are "our brave troops!" to some people are those who slaughter the friends and family of other people. 
You can see that right?

I felt the same way about 911. Of course it was sad, awful to see so many innocent people killed. But hold up, Amurica, your government does this to people all over the world, all the time. Be shocked, be saddened, but don't act so goddamn offended. If your government is doing shitty things to others, every once in a while, expect the others to hit back. I mean, it's nice to have the privilege of thinking "How very dare they!!" and all, but instead, maybe take a minute to think about your own government's role in all this, or something?

sick

I have a kidney infection. Apart from the whole pee thing, I've also got an intense pain in my side  and was in agony yesterday until I made it to the pharmacy, walking doubled over the whole way, to get some painkillers.

So, I mentioned it to my co-teacher, saying I must go to a doctor after work. However, she says in Korea I have to go to a urologist or a women's clinic, not just any old doctor. No problem, I say. Oh but there is a problem. And she tells me in a hushed voice, that actually urologists and women's clinics also treat.. "sexual diseases" (by which I assume she means chamydia, HPV, pregnancy etc.)and it would be very "shameful" if a student or parent spied me entering such a premises  and therefore insists on driving me to one on the other side of town.

Who knew kidneys could be so scandalous?

(On the awesome side, FOUR DOLLARS for a consultation and prescription of antibiotics? Unreal!)

Let's talk about sexts, baby

Okay so I'm late to this party, or at least to posting about it. I'm listening to a re-run of a talk radio show from this afternoon and they are talking about the current teenage phenomenon of "sexting". It frustrates me to hear these same arguments played out. Although at least this is one thing that actually does happen as opposed to the outcry over mythical "rainbow parties" and the jelly bracelets that depict a girl's sexual reportoire. Because of course the only teen sex scandals the media is interested in are the ones that involve girls behaving badly. Circle-jerking rarely gets airtime.

So what? Girls and young women take photos of themselves partially or fully naked and send them to boys, as a means of flirting. And in some cases, the images end up getting circulated around the whole school/town/internet. Now I'm not saying this whole things is no big deal. Yes, sexting is problematic, especially when you are talking about underage girls and the distribution of what then becomes child pornography. [Though the case of charging underrage girls for taking pictures of themselves is ridiculous... talk about not granting them ownership of their own bodies!]. The images can also be used manipulatively to threaten and bully those in them. And while these issues may be taken seriously at the legislative and schoolboard levels, in the domain of popular media -television, radio shows, magazine articles, it seems that the danger of the sexting craze is the potential shame that is bound to occur if other people see your body, and the very idea that girls would want to send pictures of themselves to boys at all is made out to be horrifying.

The warning seems to be that naked photographs are extremely personal, that they should kept private and that because of the easily shared nature of digital media, should not even be sent to partners/boyfriends and the like in case things turn sour/a phone is lost and suddenly the whole basketball team/boardroom has seen your tits.

It's not bad advice really, but sometimes you want to live a little. And if a saucy text ends up in the wrong hands, so what?

They are just breasts. Most women have them. We are bombarded everyday with images of breasts, or at least an airbrushed, silicone-pumped [per]version of them, on television, bilboards, online. They are nothing new.

Are women's breasts de-valued everytime they are seen?

Are women de-valued everytime their breasts are seen?

Yes, it can be embarrassing when something we expect to be kept private is made public, be it a photograph, email, or old diary. But the idea that our very bodies are something to be humiliated by is wrong and damaging. That something so mundane as taking your clothes off may affect your reputation, impede your chances at employment or promotion, and simply de-value you, is awful and instead of flat out warning girls not to photograph themselves we should also be pointing out that your life does not end once people have seen you in [or out of] your undies.

And of course, through all of the discussion, nobody talks about boys sending naked images of themselves to girls. And yes they do. Maybe not as much, maybe just as much, but oh yes they do. And nobody cares. Because once he's doing it of his own will, a shirtless picture of a young man, even with his pants down is not considered as damaging to his reputation, or as humiliating, or as wrong. Unlike young women,his worth is not based on his sexual purity. His naked body is not even considered as sexual as a naked girl's body. Boys who send overtly sexual messages are not wearing down the moral fibre of society, it's not cause for concern.

No, instead, the media's account of this problem is that girls are going wild, that their sexuality is dangerous, and that they will end up as the victims in this. The fear is that sexting is only symptomatic of what the girls are actually DOING with boys, even though this is not usually the case. How about we start having some real conversations with girls and young women, and hell, older women too for that matter. Coversations about their sexuality and how there is nothing wrong with expressing it, and even maybe better, more authentic ways of expressing it? What kind of models do young women have for this? There is such a narrow range of idols provided to girls in mainstream media, and most of them eventually strip off for Maxim anyway. Or Playboy -an empire that markets fashion and jewellery lines to preteen girls. And then we act surprised when they start to take their clothes off and pose? Maybe they feel that such behaviour is the only way they can compete for male attention because they are quite aware of the images of women boys are used to seeing every day. Why don't we talk to girls about more meaningful and less risky ways of relating to boys, and how they don't need to depend on their bodies? How about we discuss what to do if sexting does result in your picture all over Facebook and how, while it's natural to be embarrassed, ultimately other people's reactions to your body say more about them than you?

We all know the conflicting messages this culture sends to girls, it's nothing new. They are told that being beautiful, sexy and desirable is so important, while simultaneously being told to be innocent and chaste and not act on any desires they have themselves. No wonder many girls equate their sexuality with looking sexual. You can look without touching, you can be sexualised without being sexual. Until we start having conversations about this, girls are going to continue to think think healthy sexual expression is about looking sexy, wanting to be wanted, and getting kicks out of turning on the boys without actually owning their own sexual wants.

Maybe some people are just worried that in this case, for once, nobody is actually making any money from the sexualisation of girls and women?

Overly cynical? Perhaps. But pornography is an obscenely lucrative industry. And just as record companies argue that file sharing could destroy the music industry, those in the porn business may feel they are losing a buck for every naked picture a girl sends out for free.

social moreos

After lunch, I have to go to the bank with my co-teacher. I stop in the 7/11 outside the school gates to pick up Oreos because oh my, I am craving Oreos. I open the box and offer my co-teacher a cookie.

"No thank you. There are parents around and we are teachers.. it is wrong image if we eat on the street."

"Really?" I ask, confused but slowly biting into an Oreo nonetheless.

She looks embarrassed for me.

"Yes, it is not behaviour of teacher. But you... you are like a child, not a teacher!!" She laughs.

Ain't nobody too grown up for Oreos!!

schminnocence

When people talk about kids, they throw the word "innocent" around a lot. I've noticed this even more since I started working in an elementary school (in Korea, by the way). Innocence is considered  an inherently good quality for a child to have, and is often spoken of by adults in awe, like it's some ideal and magical state that one way or another crumbles and is lost by the time we hit six or seven, or earlier. How precious! How fragile! How ridiculous
.
So innocence, what is it?  Lack of guilt, a perfect conscience, a clean slate? Lack of knowledge, naivety, gullibility? Purity? Goodness? I have heard the term used to express all of these.

People would have you believe innocence is something to be valued and something to be protected and something which cannot be regained.
(Just like 'virginity', another bullshit term which only serves to commodify sexuality. What's the term for someone who hasn't been snowboarding, who has never had a foot massage, who has never driven a car?

"You're just a virgin who can't drive." -Way harsh, Tai, but the words speak volumes. There are no labels for people who haven't snowboarded, been massaged, driven, yet we ascribe the term 'virgin' to somebody who lacks this one specific experience. And a particularly heterocentric one at that, as usually it's applied to someone who has not yet had a penis in their vagina, or a vagina on their penis, no matter how many dicks they have sucked or clitori they have licked to orgasm.) -Okay, I digress a little, but like 'virginity', innocence is something we are seemingly born with, something pure and special that is associated with youth, that we want our children to retain for as long as possible and that once it's gone, we are forever changed. (barf.)

When I was undertaking research for my thesis (which I have yet to write about on this blog, whoops) I spoke to sex education teachers, sexual health educators and youth group leaders about their experiences with young people and their quests for sexual health information. The issue of innocence cropped up in numerous interviews.. when was too young to start providing that information and what negative effect may it have on them -there was this acceptance that education was necessary but oh wasn't it a pity they couldn't just remain 'innocent' a little longer?  Education is not a dirty word, knowing about sex does not make a kid less wholesome or more 'guilty' than knowing about flowers or pokemon.

When is innocence lost? The first time a kid tries to find out if they can reach the cookie jar when their dad's not looking? The first time they start to doubt the existence of the tooth fairy? The first time they accidentally see an erect penis when mom forgets to delete her browsing history? And what, suddenly they're not as perfect as they once were, they're tainted? Fuck that! It's called learning, it's called critical thinking, it's called curiosity. These are skills and values to be encouraged in kids, not considered some sort of perverse development that is threatening grown-ups' idealised notion of 'innocence'. 

I don't believe in innocence (apart from the judicial kind). Ignorance is another story. We're all ignorant about plenty of things, but gradually we learn more and more. Kids are ignorant about a whole lot of things. That's okay, it's allowed, they're new here and they'll pick it up as they go along. But let's stop pretending their lack of knowledge, of understanding and experience is itself wondrous and something to be revered. It's not. Their thirst for knowledge, on the other hand, is.

flirting with disaster

Growing up and reading my older sister's magazines, I remember reading a lot of tips on how to flirt. Classic moves, like making eye contact, holding it for two seconds, looking away, and looking back. Drawing attention to your mouth, by sucking on a straw or eating a conveniently located piece of fruit. And of course, making sure your claddagh ring is turned the right way around -this one's a rookie mistake.  Ridiculous moves, hence I never try any of them and instead rely on talking to them a lot, thinking about them a lot and “liking” their Facebook photos when I'm drunk. Heads up: it's not the most effective method.

Of course, these days there are some tried and true ways to attract that special someone. Straight girls, why not make out with one of your girl friends at a bar which your local sports teams frequent? This strategy is based on the "draw attention to your mouth" tenet but takes it to a whole new level. Just be careful you don't genuinely get turned on, take her home and have the best night of your life -unless there's a guy there recording you, it means you've done it all wrong.

Dudebros, finding it hard to meet chicks?  Lucky for you there are now many books out there to guide you in becoming a successful PUA (that's pick-up artist for you laymen... and you will be lay men!) I gotta warn you, these books can be a little word-y, and don't have too many pictures but thankfully they use a lot of neat code words like BHRR (Bait, Hook, Reel, Release) and Freeze Zone (see, it's just like video games!) And look at it this way, what does one book on emotionally and psychologically manipulating a woman into bed with you cost? Ten, twelve bucks? And what do five double-vodka redbulls cost? Exactly.

But what if you're not a total douchebag, and what if eyelash-batting and lip-biting make you feel like the tool they should?

Well fret not, wallflowers, Studio Roosegaarde has got yo' shy backs.

Introducing Intimacy -the dress that flirts for you.

Okay.. I should point out this is really only an option for those too-shy-to-ask-for-a-number-but-not-too-shy-to-go-out-wearing-some-shredded-stationery-supplies. Perhaps a niche market. I won't bother putting the dress down on the basis that it's ugly and stupid and we can all see her bottom, because it's conceptual, I get it. However, that means the concept is fair game.

And the concept is ALL wrong. Parts of the dress become transparent when your heart-rate increases. Not when you lick your lips suggestively, or toss your hair suggestively or make sexual innuendo er.. suggestively, or do other lame flirty things, but when your heart rate increases. Do heart rates even increase when flirting?! I thought any flirt-related physiological activity occurred in the brain. Or in the pants, but mostly the brain.

Often, if your heart starts pounding (and you're not pounding) it might mean you're angry -like when you're at a bar and a stranger behind you digs his paw at you from behind, squeezing you so hard under your dress it hurts, and when you turn around there are three men grinning to each other and you don't even know whose nose to break. Or sometimes your heart may start to race when you're intimidated -like when a guy you don't know approaches you, and when you return to your friends he gets upset and follows you around the rest of the night calling you a stuck-up bitch. I'm just not sure that a dress which responds to these kinds of scenarios by revealing some side-boob is such a good idea.

And herein lies the garment's fatal flaw. Despite the futuristic technology involved, the flirt dress is positively Stone Age in its design. For decades, we've been arguing that a woman's outfit does not signify her sexual intentions, and that short skirts and low shirts does not mean “she wants it.” Now here's a dress designed to re-establish the connection between how much flesh she's baring and how much she's interested. Gross.

If there's a part of you that still thinks there's something sort of neat about an outfit being able to communicate when you really do want to flirt with someone, but you don't want to spend a gazillion dollars on a dress that looks like something they put around a cat's neck post-neutering, well then just undo one more button for chrissakes.

Feminax changed my life. It really did. The codeine-laced painkiller was the first drug that actually worked to calm my period cramps, meaning I no longer had to skip school, cinema trips or just walking to the store for a few days each month. I had already tried prescription painkillers to no avail, so was rather impressed with this over-the-counter miracle. It's a little embarrassing, but I once actually emailed Bayer, the big, ruthless drug manufacturer to THANK them. I also wrote a poem, entitled "Ode to Feminax", so yeah, it's afe to say, I am quite the fan.

The commercial I just saw on tv, however? Not so much. Ugh, way to go ahead and lose fifty cool points, Feminax. For one, it's just a shitty advert of the same calibre as a Glade air freshener commercial. But on top of this it throws lame gender stereotypes into the mix. Woman [presumably menstruating] sitting on couch next to her boyfriend who is doing nothing wrong except engaging in normal human behaviour like breathing, smiling and ..okay, maybe flicking a booger onto the carpet. Lady overreacts slightly by catapulting the dude out the window and into the distance, ejector-seat style. Whoa, lady!

"If only getting rid of all pains was as fast as with Feminax Express...".

A pain? Way harsh, Tai! If only you weren't being a crazy, violent asshole to your boyfriend just because you're on the rag. This is one of those ads where if they switched up the genders, it probably wouldn't even be aired because it would be considered as promoting domestic violence against women. Apart from that double standard, we also have the stereotypes that women are irrational, crazy bitches during their periods [and they're "allowed"] and that boyfriends are basically overgrown babies but worse because they sweat more. Check out Sarah Haskins' clip on the "doofy husband" archetype for a decent and hilarious overview. While you're at it, check out her other Target Women clips especially Number Two, Jewellery and Feeding Your Fucking Family, because Sarah Haskins is awesome and knows badvertising when she sees it.

I still love you though, Feminax, and I meant every word of that ode.

xoxo

guys and dolls

Saw this advertised on the back of a Dublin bus today. [Well okay it sped off before I got a snap with my phone, so I ripped this from the website, but same thing]. I know it's not the most modern advancement in advertising to use images of hot women to shill stuff to men. I can deal with the image, and I can deal with the text, but the two combined completely changes what's being said. Seriously, nobody looked at this and thought "Wait a second, it might look we're implying the woman is just a toy for men.."? C'MON!

The convention itself actually looks pretty f'n AWESOME if I'm honest.. daredevils, ROBOTS, games, gadgets,live bands, something called THE WALL OF DEATH, I mean it sounds like a good time all round. And then the site's slideshow shows pictures of men and dads with their kids -boys and girls -interspersed with pictures of promo models.. That kinda thing really pisses me off. Yeah, take your daughter to see awesome robots and boats and other cool shit and don't even think about the fact that 'sexy' women are being paid to drape themselves all over it and what that teaches your daughter. And your son. I mean really, just think about it for a minute. Paying women to dress sexy and just hang out around shit to get men to come? That's creepy to me.

To top it off they have a page on the site entitled "4Girls", with a tag line reading "GIRLS...just leave him to it!' Here they acknowledge that women usually make up about 30% of the attendees -hm, pretty large percentage for something called Toys4Boys right? And to show their appreciation for the ladies, we get our own special events! There's a 'Pamper Zone", a "Fashion Show", and a "Diva Next Door model" search! Aaaand that's it. Cos women only care about beauty and fashion. Um yeah, "just leave him to it"? Just leave him to go see all this cool shit, while you get a manicure? I don't think so.

NEWSFLASH: Maybe, just maybe, the women that go to the robot/helicoptors/WALL OF DEATH convention go to see the robots/helicoptors/WALL OF DEATH. It's a mind blowing concept, I know.

Work it

I broke one of my own rules today.

A couple years ago I decided I was never going to use the tried and tested "I have a boyfriend" line to get out of an awkward situation with a guy. Even if it happened to be the case. It just seemed like a cop out, and why should I rely on some real/imaginary man to stave off another? Besides, it sometimes gave the impression to the determined ones that the real reason I was declining their offer was because I was just a loyal girlfriend, that I wanted to but couldn't, when no, I didn't want to.

I figured that in the long run, it would be more beneficial for womankind if we were just honest.

"No thanks, I'm not interested".

"Excuse me, but you're interrupting my evening with my friend."

"I don't want to dance/drink/talk with you, and I'm not obliged to explain why."

But today i was caught off guard. Old guys always catch me off guard, I'm too naive, I assume they look at me and see that young lass who works in the hardware store/ clothes store/ library, who is, like all retail staff, paid to assist them and be courteous and smile. I forget that sometimes "Do you need some white spirits with that?" or "You can take computer number four!" can be code for "I want you. I've always wanted you. You were born, and then thirtyfive years later, I was born to want you."

It's a simple mistake, a mere translational faux pas.

Next thing you know, the guy who wanted your advice on choosing a paint colour for his kitchen is reaching over to admire the detail on your necklace. And the guy in the gardening section asks you for your number so you can "hang out sometime", while his wife and child are in the pharmacy next door.

In the library last week, I was told by an elderly man I was "nice to look at". Phew! Glad I'm doing my job right. Know what else in the library is nice to loo at? Books. Eyes on the page, Gramps.

But today during lunch, when a familiar face who frequents the library smiled on the street as we crossed paths, and it was sunny out so I smiled back with one of those "we don' really know each other but it's sunny!" smiles and he stopped me to ask if I was working today and I said yes, and then he asked if i had children, like it was the most natural question in the world. I was a bit taken aback.

"Do I have children?? I AM children!"

"Are you single?"

"Er... No."

*Hurries away*

I panicked, and relied on my make-believe boyfriend to rescue me. 

Okay, I know, he's an adult, I'm an adult, and it's a free country -there's nothing wrong with it as such... but it weirds me out. Mostly because I'm always left wondering do I really come across as the kind of girl who would want to get with them? Which is silly. There is no "kind of girl" -but do I give out a vibe of wanting to hook up with older, often married men? UGH. I don't think I do. In fact, I feel as though I dress particularly young compared to a lot of my peers. I wear dresses and colourful tights and plastic jewellery. I'm still hoping to one day fill out in the chest department. I was not one of those sixteen year olds who dated guys in their twenties and got into all the clubs, and even now I get carded all the time and mistaken for as young as seventeen. [sometimes by seventeen year old boys. another story].

So when these older guys take a shine to me, it's not that I'm horrified they would mack on a woman in her mid-twenties, but that they'd mack on someone who could pass for even younger. That's what's so eww to me.

To summarise... Dear sleazy men. Please do not hit on women who are being paid to be nice. Be polite and wait until we're off the clock -then we can tell you where to go.

the one that got away

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