Didn't get to do much by way of blogging last night, as I had to complete an article, and shout at my children. I was goofing around online to get some inspiration for my article, and read an article by some prat complaining about the name of a lipstick (forget the company who manufactures this lippy). The lipstick is called 'Abuse', and it's a very deep purplish colour, kind of aubergine. Kind of a bruise colour, too. It's not a colour I would wear. It would make me look ghastly. Actually, I think the colour would make anybody look ghastly. I can recall from having done first aid training that lips this colour would indicate the owner of said lips could be at serious of risk of well, dying. Anyway, the people were complaining about the sick name, saying it's making light of domestic violence. Geez-us, some people really need to have themselves a good, firm poo.
It is my intention to now weigh in with what has everyone in thrall: Prime Minister Abbott skolling a beer in a pub. People complained about him promoting 'binge drinking'. Since when has one beer constituted a binge? I think his behaviour, a man in his late fifties skolling a beer after being egged on at a pub, is infantile in the extreme, but it is hardly likely to promote binge drinking, is it? Why don't people take a bit of responsibility for their own choices? ( 'Sorry, officer, but I felt it my duty as a taxpaying citizen to guzzle a shitload of beer because I saw the Prime Minister do it'). I don't care that he skolled a beer. I do not admire this behaviour. I do not approve. If anything, I'm inclined to disapprove of skolling. But I'm not going to harp on about his responsibilities to not be seen drinking a beer. He can have one beer, can't he? Why don't we harp on about his party's shit policies instead? The thing he did that totally creeped me out, and it was a couple of years ago, but I'm getting the shudders and nauseated as I type, was when he said a woman's virginity was the most 'precious gift', and not to be given away lightly. THIS is what turns me off the man. Along with everything else, but above all THIS creepifying statement. This antiquated, cringe-worthy comment just reduces women to a commodity based on some perception of her worth being measured in terms of purity. The greatest gift I've given my husband is our children, and my commitment, and my love. I don't know his 'number', he doesn't know mine, and our care factor lies somewhere between 'zero' and 'couldn't give a shit'. Ugh. He gives me the horrors. Abbott, that is; not my husband. Just thought I should clarify.
Tonight, I am going to be making a confession to my writers' group. I don't think they will be surprised. Our theme for tonight's piece is 'guilty pleasures'. I have written about how, when I'm alone, I go online and watch daggy film clips. Oh, don't judge me, please. Who doesn't love to watch Jamie Redfern performing 'Hitch A Ride On A Smile' on the Ernie Sigley Show? Who doesn't love to see uncoordinated dance moves that take rigid spasticity to a new level? What's that I hear? Everyone? I'm alone in this? Oh, well....
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