The Luddite relents….

January 14, 2012 at 8:53 pm | Posted in books, capitalism, film, men, women, work | 1 Comment
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Have you seen Metropolis? No? Well, what are you waiting for? It is one of the greatest cinematic achievements known to mankind; sadly, the version Fritz Lang wanted is lost, leaving us with only a fragment of his vision.

Anyway, Metropolis is a truly beautiful film which shows what happens when society becomes increasingly industrialised. There are two characters called Maria in the film: one is angelic and endeavours to save her fellow humans from the horrors of the Heart Machine, and the other is a devilish and sexy mechanical Maria, engineered to incite the workers to rebel, whilst encouraging them to remain at the mercy of their dangerous, industrial surroundings.  Well, my new IPhone has turned me into the latter, and to hell with it (gentlemen, I would never trust an angelic lady: cinematic studies have proven that they usually have teeth in unmentionable places. More on that subject later).  What I mean to say is, is that I am finally embracing technology and joining the twenty-first century. I will never ever own a Kindle and will continue to fight to preserve the book; I will never worship at the Apple shrine or give a toss about Facebook again (cue one giant collective sigh of relief). But I shall continue to develop a passion for computer shortcuts, and the quirks of the somewhat antiquated Phoenix system. I shall continue to enjoy the thrill of seeing just how quickly I can type an email or text. I may never be a technophile, but I’ll certainly never be a technophobe again.

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Do I look like a girly girl to you?

May 13, 2010 at 8:40 pm | Posted in books, debate, men, Uncategorized, women | 6 Comments
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I didn't have an umbrella, alright?

I’ll start with a couple of disclaimers:  I never wear jeans, am incredibly vain and am obviously pregnant in the photo above.  So, we can conclude that not only am I a woman (sorry for being ridiculously obvious, but you know), I could also never be described as a tomboy.

Then again, I am convinced I am the man in my relationship (in no way do I mean this in a physical sense).  Asher bows down at the throne of Richard Curtis (he also loves war films and Bond, to give him credit), I crack up every single time Jenna and I watch ‘our’ film , ‘Misery’.  (Anyone who doesn’t laugh when Annie Wilkes says she’s going to put on her Liberace records needs a personality bypass.)  Asher bought me this card for Valentine’s Day:

whilst I bought him this:

You get my point?

So it really rather pissed me off when some foul man asked me recently whether or not I liked Stieg Larsson’s Millenium Trilogy, and, after I said yes, implied that he wouldn’t like them, because I’m a ‘girly’ (yes, he really said that).  Oh, I’m sorry: I didn’t realise that literature had become gender specific now.  Heaven forbid that both the female of the species and the greater sex enjoy the same book.  Christ, is that the time?  I better get back to my manicure and Mills and Boon bonkbuster.  (Exit in my pink Nissan Micra complete with pink furry dice, pink  headrest covers and pink steering wheel cover. )

I refuse to be a victim

April 28, 2010 at 10:08 pm | Posted in women | 2 Comments
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Prithee do not mock me, fellow internet user: the title is merely a quote from the self-help CD to which Carolyn Burnham listens in American Beauty.  The rain pours, she takes out a gun from the glove compartment……..or that’s how I remember it anyway.  Great film.

What I don’t want to be a victim of is (bad grammar, dahlings, sorry) not the inability to sit on my perfect ivory sofa for fear of soiling it, a la Carolyn, but rather what people choose to call me.  I’m talking about my title.  Women are afraid of being called feminists, but frankly, I don’t really give a toss if not wanting people to keep calling me ‘Mrs’ makes me the next Germaine Greer or not.  I just resent the fact that, from the day women are born, they are defined by their title.  ‘Miss’ can be seen as young and carefree on one hand and labelled immature and committment-phobic on the other.  ‘Mrs’ is grown-up and responsible – or is it old and boring?  Who knows?  Who cares?  The point is, is that men never need to make this choice.  They are always ‘Mr’, and there is never that awkward moment where you risk offending a woman if you get her title wrong.  No wonder women always feel the need to fight their corner – there are too many choices when it comes to female titles.

So I’ve got a suggestion.  Stop calling me ‘Mrs’, or ‘Miss’ or ‘Ms’ (I really can’t stand the latter), and just call me Amy Pirt.  That’s my name: don’t wear it out.

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