Showing posts with label Lists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lists. Show all posts

Thursday, 18 October 2012

Veni, Vidi, Vendidi


I went to speak at a conference about vending machines today (yes, my life really is that exciting). My very first task in my very first full-time job was to choose and procure an automatic drink machine - however that was quite some time ago so I thought I'd better bone up on more recent developments.

I recalled being fascinated once by a vending machine at a motorway service station in Belgium that sold fries (with mayonnaise, bien sur).  Perhaps there is something more unusual?

Well, well, well. Not only can you buy crabs from a vending machine (yes, that's what's in the weird photo). I discovered you can also purchase from a machine:

  • bread in a can
  • porn videos
  • pet rhinoceros beetles
  • Smart cars
  • 25lb sacks of rice
  • eggs
  • used schoolgirl panties
Yes, you read that right.  (You can insert your own tasteless Jimmy Saville joke here if you like).  Rather a surprise. In Japan, naturally. Pretty useless as a snack, I'd have thought: I bet they taste awful.

Anyway I decided to tweet about this, as a kind of off-the-wall trailer for my conference session.  I have now attracted quite a lot of new followers, not my usual sort. I don't think they'll stay long but it makes me feel popular, even if I know it's for all the wrong reasons. 

Once on my previous blog I put up a post, with picture, about some new red shoes I bought.  I got 5,000 hits in one day. I thought this was because I was coming up on shopping searches, but a kindly social media egg-spurt explained that it's about shoe-fetishists. Nowt so queer as folk, eh?

Tuesday, 7 September 2010

Bucket List


Ten things I haven't done.

  1. Written a book.
  2. Gone skinny-dipping in the sea.
  3. Made love on the beach.
  4. Learned to tango.
  5. Seen the Grand Canyon.
  6. Walked the Grand Union Canal.
  7. Been kissed at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
  8. Been kind to myself.
  9. Followed my heart.
  10. Been The Very Thing.
 See where this goes! Now I sound like a pathetic Mills & Boon girlie. Perhaps J is right with his view about male and female authors. No man would be writing a list like that, would they?

Wednesday, 11 August 2010

Ten More Things


It’s an excellent suggestion, thank you. I’ve been mulling it over and it’s taken me a while to come up with a definitive list, but here it is. Ten Things Men Wear That Women Hate. And inevitably, the reasons why.

1. The wrong trousers
There are many ways for trousers to be wrong. Too baggy round the back (we like to see a well-shaped bum). Too tight round the front (we may enjoy the frisson of subtle hard-on but we don’t want to see the full contours of your bollocks, thanks very much). This is the male equivalent of camel-toe, but I don’t know what it’s called. The wrong fastenings. We like jeans with a button fly (cos we grew up fantasising about the Levi 501 laundrette boy); or suit trousers with the erotic complications of a properly tailored zip-and-clip challenge.

2. The wrong tie
There are fashions in ties. If you haven’t noticed this, shame on you. Commonest tie-horrors are hideously-off-trend, grubby, snagged or the ultimate sin: novelty. Cartoon characters, slogans, company logos are all verboten.

3. The wrong shoes
You can judge a lot about a man by his shoes. Don’t underspend: cheap shoes smell, make your feet hurt, wear out quickly. Oh, and they look crap too. Work shoes should be polished and smart. If you’re nervous, stick to a brand like Church’s or Jones. You might not be the height of fashion but you won’t be embarrassing yourself by accidentally buying Elton-John stack-heeled glitter boots. The wrong shoes include trainers (unless actually inside the gym or running); shoes that fasten with Velcro (are you a baby?); shoes that look like they are made for comfort rather than style (are you grandad? Do you have a club foot?); shoes with heels (are you a gay salsa teacher?); shoes that are made of plastic (are you a chav?); sandals (are you a baby? Are you Jesus?)

Buying the right shoes is hard. The best advice is to take a girl with you, or get all metrosexual and start reading the style pages. Socks should not be worn with sandals, but you knew that already. If your feet will be on show, on holiday for instance, look after them properly. It’s right, not wrong, to consider a pedicure (and a manicure too, for that matter). No nail polish though...

4. The wrong shirt
Nylon is obviously out. A white shirt and dark body is not permitted unless you are a Mafioso. The main shirt sins are easily fixed, and are more to do with maintenance than anything else. Firstly, a cheap shirt looks cheap. If you want to look cheap too, go for it. Expensive, decent shirts always end up on special deals so look around. Good places are Austin Reed or Jaeger (good offers) and for your best pulling-shirt, Paul Smith, Duchamp or Liberty (but not one that looks like a blouse).

Look after your shirts properly. Don’t smash them through the washing machine on a 1600 spin cycle, for example. If your wife is in charge of all the laundry, she will be hammering them on a boil wash and extra spin for sure. Because who the FUCK do you think you are, expecting her to do your shirts? Look for signs of wear on the cuffs and collar and donate them to the local charity shop as soon as they are past their crispy best (otherwise you’ll forget and wear them anyway). Learn how to iron the collars properly so they don’t get those little creases on the edges, and how to do the sleeves (bearing in mind comments re wife above).

If you are a person who sweats, well hey why not? It’s manly. But make sure you chuck your shirts out when they start to show deodorant stains under the arms and don’t ever, ever do that arms-above-the-head, leaning-back-in-the-chair thing if you’ve got big sweat rings in your armpits. No, no, no.

5. The wrong T shirt
You can’t go wrong with a t shirt right? Wrong. My friend G, immaculate wearer of all the right clothes, doesn’t even own a single one. Get a t shirt that fits, for start. Not too big and baggy, not too small and clingy. It should be clean, without a saggy neck (if it’s gone baggy, time to say goodbye) and either in good condition or deliberately distressed and vintage: this can be cool.

Naff slogans are definitely out. A particularly bad one I saw recently was “I eat pussy like a fat boy eats cake”. Tasteful. Sometimes humorous t shirts can be very funny, but check first that you’re not way off track. Anything about tequila, or nuts, or superman is probably wrong. Polo shirts are NOT in fashion. And think carefully about whether you want to be a walking billboard for someone else’s brand. Gap, American Apparel, Banana Republic, many choices here are fine. Don’t go too fancy. Band t shirts depend entirely on your taste in music. Any t shirt with no sleeves is wrong. This includes all vests and wifebeaters.

6. The wrong nightwear
If you get cold in bed, a worn-out Ramones t shirt is ok. And maybe a navy towelling dressing gown for when you get up to make me an early morning cuppa. Anything remotely in the category of “pyjamas”, Oscar-Wilde velvet smoking jackets, cosy dressing gowns, slippers, all mark you as a grandad. Men only start wearing pyjamas in bed when they need to cover up their prostate-dribble incontinence pants. Don’t go there before you have to. Unless you want to send a firm “don’t even think about having sex” message – which boys usually don’t, at bedtime.

7. The wrong swimwear
Speedos, see item 1 (no visible parts please). Clingy trunks will not make you into Daniel Craig - if only it were that easy. Vilbrequins were cool, until we saw both Tony Blair and David Cameron sporting them on holiday. This was the brand-disaster equivalent of Kerry Katona wearing head-to-foot Burberry and now they are out out out. You’re not a teenager, so choose something age-appropriate. Hackett would be a good place to try. I once spent two weeks in the next bungalow along from Jeremy Hackett at a resort in Crete, and he could look cool and trendy even by the pool.

8. The wrong glasses
Go to an optician with stylish women or gay men to help you choose. They see people trying on specs all day and they can help you select the right shape to flatter your features. Glasses are to assist your vision, not to hide behind if you’re shy: make sure we can still see those gorgeous eyes. Designer brands are likely to look better. Cheap glasses are a false economy: you will wear them every waking moment so the cost-per-wear works out infinitesimal (Not heard of that coefficient before? Girl-maths. Keep up). Change them every two years or so, otherwise you’ll look old fashioned. And please please keep them clean. No smudges, fingermarks or dirt.

9. The wrong accessories
Signet rings or wedding rings are the only appropriate jewellery. Army dog tags are sexy, but only if you are actually a soldier on active combat, with the body to match. Occasionally a small discreet tattoo might just about be ok, but if you didn’t get one in your twenties, don’t start now. Beards, goatees, moustaches: no. Piercing: no no no. Man-tan. No.

10. The wrong pants
Girls my age grew up fantasising about the 501 Laundrette Boy (see point 1), so you might like to bear that in mind. Crisp white boxers are lovely. Other boxers are fine too. Possibly white or black jersey shorts (Calvin Klein) can also work, if they are nice and fresh and tight. As a general rule, I’d say that any other pants are wrong, especially if your reasons are to do with comfort and or support (are you a grandad?) However I’m lately of a mind that if you are very very sexy, you can get away with dad-pants. Just. As long as they are pristine, you have a massive erection to jazz them up, and you don’t keep them on for long.

More complicated than you thought, isn’t it? Anything that could be prefixed dad- (dad-trainers, dad-pants, dad-jumpers) is wrong. Jumpers in fact I could write a whole separate post just on that topic. Don’t venture into jumpers at all without my say-so. Email me a picture and I'll tell you whether it's allowed.

If in doubt, copy Don Draper. Watch a few episodes of Mad Men and you’ll see him in all situations of dress and undress. When you’re confused, just ask yourself “what would Don do?” and you’ll be ok.

Saturday, 7 August 2010

Positivity


Maybe it’s me. Maybe I am too ready to criticise, listen to the bad stuff, tune in to the downsides. What if I was more positive? Maybe the most appropriate action I can take today is to count the blessings.

Today’s exercise is to list, with no qualifiers, the good points. Here goes.

I am married to man who is:


  • Clever

  • Well qualified

  • Charming

  • Charismatic

  • Ex international hockey player

  • Runner of marathons and ultra-marathons

  • Fit body

  • Nice eyes

  • Successful

  • Generous

  • Popular

  • Respected

  • Enthusiastic

  • Energetic

  • Excellent driver
I should thank my lucky stars, really. I guess. Or at least, stop whining so much. It must be me, right?

Thursday, 5 August 2010

Wasted

I was thinking about my post from the other day, about what a useless bunch we all are. I’ve been pondering the overall uselessness of the skills I employ at work, combined with the skills I have but don’t use any more, and the skills I learnt but have now forgotten.

I’ve concluded that I have wasted a huge amount of time, effort and brain-space with this endeavour (tryer that I am) so allow me to waste some more time listing them here. It will make me feel better.

Cooking. You may be surprised to know (particularly if you’ve eaten at my house) that I’m a pretty competent cook. It used to be all the rage, didn’t it, proper entertaining? Maybe it still is, for the child-free. Two starters, meat and vegetarian options, two desserts. Home-made bread. It’s making me think that perhaps I should do this again sometime. Although now I’m remembering that we would need to work as a team to run a proper formal dinner party, and we’re all run out of teamworking after a day or week gritting our teeth in harness together. I can also fold napkins in six different ways, including swans, roses and waterlilies.

Sewing. Yes, I can make curtains, cushions, cot-bedding, even clothes. I expect every girl my age can. I can thread the sewing machine, stitch a seam, do a button-hole. I can set a sleeve and a zip, make a dart, overlock a hem. I can darn, let seams in and out, patch. I know which needles to use for jersey and silk and denim. I can also do hand-embroidery, smocking, tapestry, knitting, French knitting and crochet. But it’s only 99p for a top from Primark so I imagine these skills will not be used again.

Reading. Yes, I know most people can read, I mean reading in foreign languages. I used to read a hefty novel or play in French or German almost as easily as one in English, and I haven’t done that for about twenty years. As for my Spanish, I imagine that’s disappeared almost completely. I can still hold a conversation in French, I guess, but my German is slipping away. This is stupid. I love languages and it was once the very only thing I was good at. I must get back into practice.

Tiling. Floors and walls. I’m also counting paving. I was pretty good at all that, when I was too poor to get Czech boys to come and do it all for me. It’s quite boring, but I could do it again if I had to. I can also paint and hang wallpaper (and strip woodchip and Artex...) but so can everyone else. I can use a drill, an electric screwdriver, a saw, a glue gun, a router.

Interior design. People keep telling me I could make a lot of money, doing up houses and selling them. I credit all this to my friend who has spent her career editing very posh home magazines. I used to buy her mags purely out of loyalty, but it seemed to rub off. However I do really hate both shopping and co-ordinating tradesmen, so I hope never to have to do up a house again. Unless I’m embarking on a new life, in which case I will relish the chance to start with a blank canvas.

Music. Oddly enough, I play the piano a lot even though it was always my worst instrument and I am a horribly amateurish grade 5 or so. Yet having been a competent violin player (at one point I considered becoming a teacher) I never touch it other than to help Thing One with her practice. Similarly singing. One solitary cassette exists of the band, me singing a cover version of Each And Every One. No one may listen to this, but I sometimes do, and marvel at how good my voice sounded when I sang every day, properly. I went through a phase where I decided to try and learn one key piece on as many instruments as I could. I can still with a fair wind play Hotel California on the guitar (including the twiddly intro) and Stranger On The Shore on the clarinet, as well as a snatch from Peter And The Wolf on the bassoon. There were probably other things too. What a waste. I can also mix on a four-track.

Databases. Once in 1996 I built a whole CAFM system for a national museum. Constructed in Access, it had work requests, time sheets, planned and cyclical maintenance schedules, an asset register, a contractor register, the whole nine yards. Automatic job tickets, management reports, summaries. I found this the other day and looked at it in wonderment. How did I do that?

Dancing. I have gold medals in rock’n’roll, Latin-American and ballroom dancing. And lordy you would not believe it to look at me now. As well as my twinkling toes, I had fantastic legs, great posture and a flat stomach. I looked fantastic. And I spent the whole time in leggings, huge baggy mohair sweaters and Converse boots, worrying that I was fat. If I’d known then how I was going to look now, I’d have worn a bikini every day.

Skills I have learned that nobody needs any more include:

• Replacing a typewriter ribbon
• Learning how to use various defunct computer packages (Wordstar with all those function keys, Harvard Graphics, FoxPro)
• Using a telex machine
• Adjusting the test card on the TV
• Burping a hot water bottle (microwave gel packs have taken over)
• The reliable use of belt-and-loop sanitary towels (oh thank god)
• Double de-clutching
• Using a slide rule and log book
• Doing client pitches with stand-up presenter-folders
• Labelling everything with a Dymo

There may be more. We were at a friend’s house the other day, and they have a reconditioned Bakelite telephone with a curly wire. Really funky. The girls were very excited: “we’ve seen these olden-timesy phones on TV! Can we try it out?”

They were baffled. They did not know how to use the dial.

Wednesday, 4 August 2010

I Stand Corrected


“You must think men are very superficial”, he said. Was his tongue in his cheek, or was he a little offended? “Nooooo,” I replied. “Do you like any of those clothes, though?”

Course, he didn't want to answer that one. It might make him look superficial. So he’s going to spend the day being Very Important And Serious, and I’m going to give you ten reasons why boys don’t in fact hate these clothes, but would love us to wear them.

Channelling once again the voice of my Inner Lad, let’s see if I can rise to the challenge.

1. Harem pants
If I’m totally honest, I don’t really know what they are. But I like the sound of them because I like the idea of a harem. I imagine they would be worn with one of those sort of Eastern dusky-maiden crop tops which is quite tight, and a mysterious veil. I’m liking it.

2. Jumpsuits
This is a good outfit for skydiving (I like a girl with a sense of adventure) or mending your car (practical). I have noticed that sometimes the silkier ones can kind of edge into the crack of your ass when you’re walking and I know you find that embarrassing and inconvenient but it’s kind of intriguing.

3. Headbands
At first headbands were scaring me, with those overtones of kamikaze pilots and Christopher Walken playing Russian roulette in the Deer Hunter. But then I remembered Xena Warrior Princess wears one, and suddenly everything was ok. Looking like one of my wank-fantasies is always ok. You could even have a weird curly ear-bun hairstyle-thing if you looked liked Princess Leia.

4. Gladiator sandals
You could wear these with a short, tight Roman toga kinda thing, and have a cat fight with another girl and I could watch. That would be fun. I think Xena wears these, s'cuse me while I just go check.

5. Dungarees
Nothing wrong, per se. The problem starts when you make the mistake of wearing some kind of top underneath. Dungarees and nothing else, and your breasts constantly slipping into view and threatening to tumble out beyond that narrow bib/strap part, that works.

6. Leggings
No complicated fastenings to grapple with, so I can pull them down easily, without the threat of laddering them, unlike tights, which make me a bit nervous.

7. Uggs
Gymslips are so last-century. Any decent schoolgirl fantasy would now have to involve a nubile young thing in Uggs and skinny jeans.

8. Oversize sunglasses
Peer over the top of them and look at me in a sexy way.  I'm thinking like the Lolita movie (part of me is still daydreaming about item 7. I'm not saying which part).

9. Tuxedos
They make you look androgynous, which makes me question your sexuality. I like this, because I've always fantasised about watching you get it on with your best friend  -  maybe you have too?

10. Anything with fringes on it
I still don't know what they are for.

Later, he qualified his first email by admitting that yes, he did like all of these items "in appropriate settings and on the right woman". 

So as long as it's Halle Berry on a terrace by the hot tub, with a vast double bed just in view through the French windows, any of these garments are fine.

Tuesday, 3 August 2010

Ten Things


Oh how I love lists. My life is run by them, and my head is filled with them. So nice and orderly, so tidy and structured. Trees of the world. 100 things to do with a dead cat. 50 ways to leave your lover. Guinness Book of Records. Ten reasons why I love you. Any top tens, really.


Here's one that made me laugh today. Ten Things Women Wear That Men Hate (you can find it here on MSN if you don't know what any of these garments actually are, boys...in fact that in itself could be a quiz).

What's missing from this list is the explanation. They've approached it as if it's a fashion thang, and that's quite wrong. Men hate these clothes for boy-reasons. Allow me to speak like a man, in the cause of enlightenment.

1. Harem pants
Too baggy and obscure the booty. Instead wear tight gold shorts like Kylie, or a ridiculously short skirt.

2. Jumpsuits
Jumpsuits make us nervous because we don't know how to get them off, it looks very complicated. A short, tight, low cut dress with buttons down the front is best, we know what to do with that.

3. Head bands
What are they for? The only useful purpose served by any kind hair accessory is to stop your hair from flopping forward and obscuring my view when you're giving me the perfect blow job. Some sort of clip that keeps it out the way, then tumbles it back down again afterwards would be ideal.

4. Gladiator sandals
Too clumpy and no heels. I don't care whether they're comfortable, girls look best in lipstick and spiky black heels, like in the magazines and the on-demand movie channels. Fuck-me stilettos were given their name for a good reason.

5. Dungarees
See item 1. Plus, they unnecessarily obscure the view of the breasts, for no good reason. Instead wear shorts and a very tight low-cut t shirt.

6. Leggings
If your legs are in good enough shape to wear something skin tight that completely covers them, what's wrong with skin? Do them justice with a very short skirt and very tall shoes (see item 4).

7. Uggs
See item 4.

8. Oversize sunglasses
I can't see you. You might be looking at other men, or having a little nap while I talk about myself. Instead, have big, bambi eyes and don't stop gazing adoringly at me.

9. Tuxedos
Either they make you look a bit dyke-y, which makes me question your sexuality; or they make you look like a boy, which makes me question mine. If we're going somewhere special, a tight low cut dress is always good. With high heels (see item 4).

10. Anything with fringes on it
What are they for? Girls like dangly shit which has no purpose. Jewellery, phone charms, flapping bits hanging off handbags. What's that all about?

See, girls and boys take a different approach to dressing well. We girls will so often plan an outfit around hiding the bits we don't like. Boys prefer us to show off the good bits. Highlight their favourite parts and they won't look at the rest anyway, they'll be mesmerised.

All we have to remember, according to my dad anyway, is that all men fall into one of two groups. I call it the Sunday-Roast system: breast or leg? Know which category you fall into and get 'em out on show.