Sunday, 27 February 2011

I was right

What did I tell you? Ages ago in that post about why there are such skinny models? The fact that most fashion designers are gay and thus find the male form more beautiful, hence the amount of thin, shapeless women on the catwalk.
Well I was obviously right as the trend has just got slightly more extreme. Rather than have women starved into boyhood walk the catwalk, they've cut corners slightly. This article demonstrates it. A male model, modelling womanswear. He is the supermodel ideal, and just so happens to be a man.

Wednesday, 16 February 2011


Following the recent reviewer stance I seem to have adopted, I have decided to do a review of household cats. I do not have extensive personal experience of cats, as I have never owned one. However, I've met enough cats in my time to know that they are not fantastic mammals like us humans.
The first thing that makes me slightly sceptical of the whole point of cats is that they can't hold a conversation. They can't even talk or do sign language. For this reason, their company is not adequate or fulfilling. Some people, namely cat owners, have resigned themselves to this fact and decided to indulge in a cat anyway, but I could never compromise.
Following on from this, their intellect simply isn't on the same level as humans. So not only can they not talk, but they can't even listen, sympathise, or debate. I'm struggling to think what cats actually can do.
Another unfortunate defect of cats is that they're never actually there. Houses are like an occasional feeding and crapping place, and 90% of the time they are outside parading the streets, being sluts.
Physically, cats are hugely deficient. They might appear vaguely 'cuddly', but this is not in fact the case. Every time I have stepped out of my comfort zone and attempted to stroke a cat, either it slinks away or extends its claws like a little bitch. When I do manage to get a stroke in, I am often disappointed by the disgusting protuding spine. When I caress an animal, I do not expect to have to encounter all the knobs of its back bone. And that purr they do makes me feel like some sort of cat-pervert. Also, sometimes they try and wipe eye-gunge on you.

Saturday, 12 February 2011

Nails, Misfits, Skins, Camera

I've created a new trend. To paint the nails of only one hand. The basic principle is that you're too cool and nonchalant to paint the nails of the other hand. You just threw on some nail polish, did some other cool indie stuff, forgot about the other hand, walked out the house without having showered for 6 weeks.
Why didn't anyone tell me Misfits was so good? Yesterday I watched 6 episodes in a row on Youtube, and I was nearly dead from inaction at the end of it. Although some may say he is arrogant in person, Robert Sheehan (who plays Nathan) completely makes it. It would be nothing without him. I'm not even sure if he's a good actor or he's just playing himself, but he makes the other characters look wooden.
Compared to Misfits, Skins is a pile of embarrassing dung. I haven't even watched the latest episode. At some point in the next few days I will probably become bored enough to watch it, but I can guarantee it will be a painful 45 minutes.
Currently I don't have a camera. It's a slight anticlimax, considering the 14 or so excited posts before its arrival. The repair people will eventually get round to sorting out the incredibly bitchy line of pixels that dares to utterly demolish and ruin every picture, and I might even get it back in time for 'Formal Party'.

Sunday, 6 February 2011

I have been raped by Benefit

Yesterday I went all the way up to Chichester for a Benefit makeover at House of Fraser. The 'make-up artist', who had a questionably heavy layer of foundation on herself, slapped eight different products on my face. For instance, a tinted moisturiser which she praised and advertised for three long minutes while she wrecklessly applied it even though I had told her I already had it. Then she applied seven times too much primer. She even made me smell it so I could agree that it smelt like raspberry. Then, for fun, she decided to mix the moisturiser and primer together and build up another inch on my skin. Aftwerwards came an onslaught of blusher, eyeliner, two cream eyeshadows, concealer and lipgloss. When she had finished she showed me the mirror, and I made appreciative noises while she looked at me expectantly and asked 'So what would you like out of these products I have used on you?' I recalled that I only had £40 in my account that I would quite like to save. But when I walked out the shop I had five products in my bag and two raffle tickets to win some Calvin Klein underwear. I have no idea what happened. It was so confusing and terrifying. I don't even need primer. What the hell even is primer? And I think I might have bought that tinted moisturiser I already have. And at least two different forms of wrinkle fillers, and shoes.

Tuesday, 1 February 2011


She dies at the end.
I have just done most people a massive favour, because Black Swan is a sickening and traumatic potassium cyanide of a film. Don't watch it. For those of you that enjoy the sight of raw skin being peeled off a finger, then I am very sorry and feel shameful and malicious. I also suggest that you find help immediately as you are psychopathic, sadistic and terrifying.
After watching the film, I walked out the cinema in a disturbed trance. But I wasn't even disturbed. I was numb. Slowly, disgust crept over me. It wasn't till I had calmly and silently eaten my pizza in Pizza Express that it came back to me. All the horrifying details.
I'm not really sure whether Black Swan is about discovering your darker side, breaking free from the hold of an obsessive mother, exploring your sexuality, or a dangerous struggle for perfection. It is all of these, yet nothing of these.
The acting is good, I think, but I was too distracted by the frequent gore. Gruesome acts such as retracting a feather from a bloody scratch and unsticking webbed toes. The most excruciating moment was the overzealous nail cutting.
It was a weird film. Oh and there was ballet in it too; quite a lot of ballet. But it was overshadowed by pretty much everything else