nice girls

“She was a nice girl,” he said. “The sort of girl where I'd have to pay for her drinks all night, you know?”

No, I don't know. What the fuck does that mean? Seriously?

I wouldn't consider a guy who expected me to pay for his drinks all night to be “nice”, so I can assume it's a gendered thing.

Maybe nice girls wear dresses and heels on their all-expenses paid dates.

Maybe nice girls order a salad while he orders the steak.

Do nice girls put out on a first date? (He went on to imply they do.)

Do they spit or swallow? (He didn't specify. I'm always quite suspicious of implied but non-specified sex.)

Can nice girls afford their own beverages?

Do they let you pay because they think it's proper?

Do they let you pay because you think it's proper?

Do they let you pay because they know they're going to earn it later on, or do they earn it later on because they let you pay?

Do nice girls get to meet your mom?

Do they get to meet your friends?

Do nice girls get to spend the whole night and then get taken out for brunch (your treat, of course)?

Are nice girls good in bed?

And if they are, does that mean they're nasty and no longer nice?

Or, on the other hand, if they don't sleep with you, are they still nice girls, or are they just cock teases, bitches and dykes?
Yeah, I thought so.

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.

Bristol

I packed my bags and moved to bristol

A city of hills -you are always either on your way up

or on your way down.

Stroll down by the river

past the fancy restaurants

Glass and chrome brasseries

grill houses, pan-asian cuisine

their outdoor tables filled with dates

first dates, third dates, double dates.

Past the square-cum-skatepark

where young boys in overpriced tshirts

land kickflips and ollies and fall

and dust their knees and try again

Past the little fishing boats

that bob up and down

Their names painted proudly on their sides

Kelly Maria, Hailey Ann, Elizabeth

Christened after Bristol's adored wives, daughters

long lost loves.

The sky has darkened now

the hue of lilacs and pewter

And couples amble by, hand in hand

Stroll further, past the houseboats

and apartment blocks

Men and women, jogging side by side

The couple that work out together

work out just fine.

And stand and stare

at the painted ladies

Pastel lego blocks

perched on the hill

And ask yourself how many couples

have come together within those walls

What do they see when they look out those coveted windows

at the man living alone

aboard the Sylvia?

the piano teacher

Those hands know more than brains or hearts

They know things I suspect I never could

The way the fingers glide over ivory

The knuckles pop staccato, drop-

Those hands know more

Than a piano teacher’s should.

The trained eye sees more in the score

Than my eye ever could

It follows quickly

-crotchet to cleft

But sometimes wanders

-crotch to breast

The eye spies more

Than a piano teacher’s should.

The sounds composed

In that dead room

on that dead floor

Is sometimes more

Than notes and chords

As cotton falls to dark floorboards

And silent screams

Don’t pass the door

Those ears hear more

Than a piano teacher’s should.

No, I'm staring at your weak-ass word play.

High five to the Advertising Standards Authority for Ireland which has just ordered Largo Foods to withdraw its advertising campaign for Hunky Dorys crisps after complaints from the public that the images were sexist and degrading.

The advertisements which were shown nationwide on billboards and in newspapers featured cleavage bearing "hot chicks" in rugby poses with the caption "Are you staring at my crisps?".

But wait a second, these ladies aren't even eating any crisps! Where is the logic in this?! Ohhhhh I get it, crisps sounds a little bit like tits! "Are you staring at my tits?" That's better. Mystery solved.

The ads also have a footer indicating they are "sponsors of Irish Rugby" which the Irish Rugby Football Union were none too pleased about as it implied they were major donors when actually they only sponsor some small club like Navan who, let's face it, are not even a real team. I guess the IRFU were pissed that a big brand was trying to cash in, and also stated that Irish Rugby has a family focus and they do not wish to be associated with the images.

Personally, my biggest problem with the campaign is that is simply highlights how much women are isolated from sports in Ireland. Rugby has gotten huge here over the last few years, and we've been kicking ass at it. But I've yet to see a game with female teams on television. So it just seems like a joke to me that this campaign features gorgeous women wearing what don't look like legit rugby uniforms to me.. While I'm not sure I agree with the idea that the images "degrade women" [ images don't degrade women, people do], I do think they undermine female athletes by promoting the idea that women only belong in contact sports when they're beautiful and showing off their bodies, and even then they are still just a punchline.

On top of that, I dislike the billboards for other reasons. It's lazy. It's old. It's not even a good pun.

Pretty pleased about the simple fact that people complained, and were taken seriously. Hopefully one day, women's sports will be taken seriously here too.

There, I said it.

Let's start with the cliché, yes I was drunk. Stupid drunk. So what? -That's what Saturday nights are for. Okay, maybe it was a Thursday, but it was Summer, almost. We were at a party near the Annex, there was a band, and a basement and a garden. I was drinking spiced rum and had a flask full of that Cannonball whiskey shooter stuff. That stuff was tasty, you can't get it here. I quite liked the bottle too. Anyway, it was liquid blackout, and I shouldn't have drank so much. But that has absolutely nothing to do with what happened, and I am not going to apologise for being drunk at a party, okay?

Here's a non cliché. I was wearing my big stupid shirt with the pegasus on it and khaki shorts. I hadn't remembered what I was wearing, but I just looked back and found a photo on Facebook. I'm in the back garden, smiling with a friend and some dude I don't know. And once I saw I was wearing that shirt, I remembered I had decided to wear it because I was feeling gross and fat that day. That shirt couldn't hug a curve if it tried. And no, there was no sign of cleavage. Which is mostly due to me not really having any, but still, I'm just saying, my outfit wasn’t “asking for it”.

So yeah, Facebook. I just went back to see what I was wearing, and then the next picture was of you, standing against a mural, your back to me. I'm glad your back was to me in that picture.

The party was winding down, and someone had decided the after party was at your place.

“Ohhhh... so you went back to his place?”

Fuck that. Everyone partied at their place all the time. No big deal. Yeah, I went to his place, their place. Why wouldn't I? We were all friends.

Your place was on the other side of town. You came over to me in the garden and said I could ride doubles on your bike. That made me feel good and fuzzy. Okay, so I should mention we were friends who made out sometimes, and I sort of liked you. Nbd.

That's why I have that photo of you against the mural in the alley, we were out there getting your bike.

The bike ride was fun. I hadn't ridden doubles on a bike in a long, long time. A “seater” we'd call it here. I had to keep my legs out while you pedaled and my calves began to ache, but it was too much fun, speeding through the city, both of us hollering into the dark night, one of my hands gripping the underside of the saddle, the other holding onto you.

On the way into the house you said “Let's smoke a bowl” and I laughed because you always said this and always forgot that I wasn't into getting high, but this time I just said “Yeah, whatever”.

And then we were in your room with its amber glow and it was warm and good, and we lay together, fully clothed and you passed the bowl and then I kissed you and nestled my head on your chest and started talking about my grandad. I don't remember why, but I remember lying there, and telling you all about my grandad.

And after that I remember waking up. Actually, I don't want to talk about this part, or the morning. Or the next three weeks when I sat like a zombie in work and constantly felt nauseous and thought I was going to have to quit if the feeling didn't go away, or how I bumped into you in the market with a mutual friend and my throat dried up and you insisted on grinning and giving me a big tight hug, or how I had to see you at every party or show I went to over the next two months and absolutely, most definitely not how on my last night in town you hit on me and I actually went with it because I felt like if I hooked up with you again it would be on my own terms and maybe I could somehow rewrite the whole story just by writing my own ending, maybe even because part of me still liked you and wanted you to like me. Gross. It didn't work. I am ashamed of myself for that. but not as ashamed as I am of you

warts 'n' all

Interesting article in the Irish Times the other day on whether boys should be getting the Cervical Cancer vaccine as well as girls. It's apparently already happening in the UK and Oz.

I was rather delighted earlier this year when Health Minister Mary Harney finally announced that beginning this September, the Gardasil vaccine would be administered to girls in Irish secondary schools.

The vaccine protects against four strains of HPV, two of which are associated with about 70% of cervical cancer cases and two of which are associated with about 90% of genital warts cases.

HPV is one of the more mysterious STIs out there. There are between 30 and 40 strains that can be transmitted through sexual contact, and because condoms do not cover the areas around the genitals or inner thighs which can be exposed to the infected person's skin, they are not effective in preventing transmission. Testing usually won't detect HPV, unless visible symptoms occur. It is so common, that most people who have been sexually active already have HPV, and for most of us, our bodies will clear the infection on its own without us ever knowing we have it. Of course everyone's immune system is different, and not everyone will clear the infection. Two possible results in this case are genital warts, and genital lesions which can progress to cervical cancer. Of course anything that can help prevent these sounds like a good idea.

However, because the drug only prevents HPV strains which have not yet been contracted and does not treat a person's existing HPV-related problems, it had been particularly recommended for younger girls who were less likely to have had (m)any sexual partners. But it has also been found to be effective for women up to their late twenties, and now it's also being recommended for boys.

Ok, so your average boy may not be in possession of a cervix, but seeing as the vaccine is also awesome at lowering the risk of getting genital warts as well as reducing the transmission of certain cancer-causing strains of HPV between horny kids, it sounds like a damn good idea to me. Of course, the government don't really want to talk about the genital warts thing, because if our girls realise the vaccine could also help prevent them from catching a nasty STI, next thing they'll be humping every boy in sight sans-durex and going wild, and Joe Francis would be cleaning up.

No, far more respectable to just stick with the cancer part, nobody can argue with cancer -even the Catholic church can't argue with that, right? [Hmmm...]

Personally I think they should be playing up the warts thing - or at least the profit-lovin' drug companies should. For a start it doubles their market. Also.. and I'm not for a second saying cervical cancer is preferable to some pesky vag warts... but at the same time, at least I can try to keep cervical cancer in check with regular paps -warts are less likely to call and let you know they're coming. They just arrive on your doorstep and then you're fucked and need to revert to celibacy and numerous cryotherapy treatments which I hear are no picnic. Shudder.

I'm not altogether sold on this whole Gardasil vaccine in the first place. In theory I am, but I've also read some dodgy reports on the health risks, and really I'd need to investigate a little more before I decry everybody should go out and get shot up with the stuff. But, also in theory, I think if we're going to do this we need to do it right, and to effectively reduce the risk of cervical cancer [AND warts!], I think we need boys to get in on this too. Pretty much like most aspects of feminism, it just works better if men and women are all on the same page.

I decided not to use a picture for this post. You're welcome.