Little brown baby BLOG

A-list adoption

2006-11-01T16:02:00.000Z

Are celebs really putting the child's needs first when they adopt from overseas? Lauren feels celebrity adoption is happening for all the wrong reasons.

Nicole Kidman and Sharon Stone have been doing it for years. Angelina and Brad are famous for it, and apparently even Britney's thinking about it. Now it's Madonna's turn. Adopting babies is becoming as crucial to celebrity status as appearances on red carpets and in magazine spreads. But, I think the impact of the new international baby shopping trend may actually result in a negative impact that could last a child's lifetime. It seems to me that the rich and famous are bending the rules and pushing the boundaries to bring babies back to their own countries.

When I was nine I bought a Tamagotchi. Remember them? The little electronic pets designed by a crazy Japanese man in the hope of getting young people to learn about responsibility and parenthood while he made a buck or two. The pets, mine was a cat named Kevin, appeared on a small screen and needed to be fed, loved and played with or else a big RIP sign would flash up and the pet would appear six feet under. Kevin lasted about a week. The first day I had him I over-fed, over-played and smothered him with love, but as the novelty wore off and boredom set in, I forgot Kevin and after six long malnourished and neglected days Kevin kicked the bucket.

Now, I'm not comparing Madonna's newly purchased baby, David Banda, to Kevin. I'm not even comparing her parental skills to my own. I'm sure as a mother of two she will do a far better job than I did. I'm merely saying that her decision to adopt in the way that she has comes with far more responsibility and potential problems than may first appear. It also raises big questions about power and money, over ethics and morals.

Madonna should be commended for handing over nearly £2 million to help Malawian orphans. She is raising the profile of a country in desperate need of help and is highlighting an issue many would rather ignore. And, of course, she is providing a child with an opportunity to live in health and wealth for the rest of his life. But we must remember that David is not an orphan, he has a father who simply could not afford to keep him and who claims he was misled when signing adoption papers that he says he could barely understand. Could Madonna not have offered David's father money to give him a better life or adopted an orphan instead?

The laws on international adoption aren't simple. Most childless couples who are desperate to adopt an African child wouldn't have been able to do so with the ease of Madonna and Guy Ritchie. Most people aren't able to hand over a few million quid so that the authorities view them in a rosier light or bend and break the laws for them. The law in Malawi states an 18-month inhabitancy within the country before potential parents can adopt a baby and take them out of the country. However, Madonna and Guy claim they began the adoption process months prior to their trip to Malawi and have followed the adoption procedure according to the law like anyone else.

"This child will now live a life of invasion, his identity may never be more
than as 'Madonna's son'."

Get beyond the law breaking and there's still the issue that this child's future has completely changed. Who is to say that this child will be happier being brought up in the western world, spoiled with expensive living and excessive goods? How can anyone be sure that this society won't have a worse effect on the boy when he will be exposed to things that he may never have even known existed in his world? What were the chances of him being bullied for being different in Malawi? In Malawi he may not have had to be afflicted with big brother or peer pressure or having paparazzi rummaging through his bins. This child will now live a life of invasion by the press and his identity may never be more than as "Madonna's son".

On the reverse side, David Banda, has been saved from poverty. He's escaped a fate that many hundreds of thousands of children in his home country will suffer from through poverty, malnourishment and disease. But will he grow up with the culture, language and values of his forefathers?

Maybe Madonna is adopting this baby with all of the best intentions. But there has to be a part of it that is selfish. A part of her that is doing it for her own self-fulfilment so she can feel like a do-gooder. When she looks at her trillion figure bank account she can now say, "Well I've adopted an African baby, don't you know?"

Like Meg Ryan, Tom Cruise and Angelina Jolie, Madonna appears to have fallen into the celebrity adoption shopping race. How many babies, from how many different countries and how much? But at what cost? Will it take the 'Brangelina' tribe to grow into an entire football team before these celebrities stop and think about the harm, rather than the good they may be causing these children?

In my opinion there is something very distasteful with this new trend of celebrity adoption. There is a feeling of a disproportionate power to responsibility ratio that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. As David Banda is carried off in his new mum's private jet, surrounded by body guards and with the world's press after his picture, something just doesn't quite fit.

The worst hour of the week

2006-09-05T14:46:00.000Z

You may think 9 AM on a Monday morning is painful. Getting your head back into work mode as you open your inbox after a weekend of boosing and fun. You may hate midday on a Wednesday as the weekend still feels so far out of grasp.
However, there is a new hour of the week more painful and desperate than any other time. It is worse than midnight when the werewolves appear and worse than any back to work blues. This hour is between 3 and 4 on a Sunday afternoon. This is the hour when the trading laws kick in and the supermarkets close early.

"There is a new hour of the week more painful and desperate than any other time."

“Here we go again”, you think She’s off on a rant about supermarket etiquette. Well, yes I am actually and I shall tell you why……..
Supermarkets, the way in which you use them and the impact they have on our lives bores far deeper into the depths of the soul than you think.
Take for example, the way in which the Americans shop. Big trolleys, in big shops (where you can also buy guns) filled with big freezer food, to fit in the big three door, ice making fridge/freezer machines.
And the English way to shop, a little bit of food in a smaller trolley on an almost daily basis, in a shop where you cannot also buy a firearm. Now compare these two ways in which to shop with the stereotype of the people from each country.

Back to the dreaded hour. . . .

At 3.30 on Sunday I, like every other person in the whole of Surrey, decided to pop to sainsburys for last minute shop. My boyfriend and I had decided, with the help of Gordon Ramsey, to attempt a fish dish. This whole shopping trip could have taken 10 minutes with my stealth, pro-active shopping formation. This consists of me ordering my other half to advance towards the fresh herbs while I choose the vino. We can then meet back, around isle 12 for a
-“Basil”
– “Check”,
– “Red wine”
– “2 bottles, Check” type of conversation
.
This procedure was unable to be put in place on Sunday. First of all there was the very moral row over parking in the disabled parking bay. While, admittedly there were 1000 free disabled parking spaces it still goes against my karma to park in them.
Then there was the battle with every Range Rover driving, blonde mother of 5, who you see a lot on the Surrey/Hampshire border. They were also trying the delegation technique with their shopping.
“Tarquin go and get mummy a large spaghetti squash”
“Verity sweetie run along and get mummy a copy of house and home, we are in it this week”. Etc etc.
So once we had battled furiously through these horrible types we made it to the fish counter. Which was shut. Me, my boyfriend (and I’m sure Gordon Ramsy) were very upset about this and demanded the fishy boy to go out the back and find us his best fish. He returned with some trout which we accepted gracefully. The same thing happened at the newspaper stand. I had to ask the young reprobate, who looked as if he’d rather mug me than serve me to find me a Sunday newspaper, on Sunday. Not a chance in hell.

The end of the journey, and it really was a journey - far into my mental stability, was by far the worst.
The queue.
English people can queue. They do it everywhere. They are as good at queuing as the germans are at playing bagsi with the sun loungers or the Americans are at mixing buying arms with couscous.
Not today. People could not queue today. Immediately world war three broke out. It was the “under ten items” vs the “trolley dolleys” from the boarder. It was the “fast trackers” with their beeping fast track bar code guns against people like myself the “we don’t need a basket I’ll carry everything in my hands”.

"Immediately world war three broke out."

The war got tactical. I saw a young girl tell her younger sister to run outside to get a fast track gun while waiting in the trolley dolly queue. They beeped, scanned and did a stunning last minute manoeuvre switching to the opposition.
We stood between to queues hoping for another till to open. It did, and, amid scowells from fellow shoppers we moved to the front.
After the Spanish inquisition, “Nectar card?”, “Computers for school”, “Help with packing?” etc…….

We were out.
Now can you see why 3 until 4 on a Sunday is the worst hour of the week?

My application to be a star

2006-08-31T17:55:00.000Z

I am a really keen, a little bit silly, happy, positive, realistic 21 year old. I like spontonaeity although i can't spell it. I can fit through a wire coat hanger in less than 30 seconds and i have a passion for beanie babies in the form of little brown babies. My aim in life is to buy a little farmhouse and teach the macaque monkey of gibralter to pick olives and i will sell them. I will have a little roof garden with terracotta tiles and box trees. I will sip fine red wine and watch the sun set with the man i love. aaaaaahhhhhh. Oh and i would like to get a dreaded donkey (another rare breed) to amuse my 9 brown babies( which i will practice making after the sun sets). My babies will also be taught to pick olives and make wine and the like. I look a little bit like a monkey and have extremely small little fingers.

If i don't get a job then these people are mad.

getting old ( part deux)

2006-08-17T11:47:00.000Z

I know I have written about this on a few occasions, but ,once again I am freaking out about getting old. I went to my friend’s birthday barbeque on Sunday in very British style (not only was it pissing with rain, but as soon as the food came out, we queued like school children, our hands out-stretched “can we have some more ?”)
It was this britishness that started my realisation that I am a mere stones throw from a nice mug of Horlicks and an appreciation of Cliff Richard.

It started over lamb on a skewer ( as many things do) in a conversation with my friend about the weather. It went a little like this:

LittleBrownBaby: “ooooh it’s clearing up. Those clouds are looking a little brighter.”

Uninterested other: “mmmm so it is. It would be nice if it dried up a bit.”

LittleBrownBaby: “I am rather fed up with this weather. After all it is August I’m sure the weather should be nicer.”

Uninterested other: “mmmm but July was just so hot. I couldn’t sleep. Had to buy an air conditioning unit from Argos which set me back a bit. I’m sure next year will be worse with this global warming malarkey.”

LittleBrownBaby: “really, how fascinating. I loved the hot weather but I suppose it was a bit uncomfortable …..

And so on and so forth.

I am 21. This sort of behaviour is not normal.

The weather however is just the start of it. I don’t know quite how to say this but I have stored radio two on my CD player in my car for quick access to Jeremy Vine or Chris Evans. This sort of behaviour is not normal. Who wants quick access to Chris Evans?
And, to make matter worse, I don’t just listen to the debates, I form opinions on them. I even find myself talking to the radio “don’t be so stupid you can’t tax bikes!” I hear myself bellow at Jane, a middle-aged mother of two from Kent. She is the sort of person who listens to radio two not me. This sort of behaviour is not normal.

It gets worse. I know it’s hard to believe.

I have recently found myself using the same terms and phrases my father uses. “lovely chatting to you.” “I pay my taxes ….” “when I was younger”. And I really believe in what I am saying.

I truly think that things are going down hill. That young people are becoming naughtier, and, had they been born in my super-ted , rainbow tinted youth they would be a better race of yob.
I think that every person under the age of 16 is dressed head to toe in black with a big hood, a mini-moto and participates in regular happy slapping which they record on their stolen Sony Ericson 3 grillion mega pixel phone.

I think that it is a sham that my local council has changed my rubbish collection to fortnightly from weekly and I discuss my anger regularly with people twice my age.

So in conclusion to this little rant I have come to decision. From here on I will act my age. I will lie in bed until 2, never put the rubbish out weekly or fortnightly and only eat ready meals with over 10000000 calories. And, I will only discuss drugs, sex and how much binge drinking I’ve done recently with people of my own age.

The end.

whatever happened to george ?

2006-03-14T15:14:00.000Z

http://www.thesite.org/community/reallife/rants/whateverhappenedtogeorge

More blogs about little brown baby.

Whatever happened to George?

What is it with English people who celebrate St Paddy's Day without so much as a nod of recognition to our very own George, sniffs Lauren.
Friday is Saint Patrick's Day and, like many capital cities, London will be celebrating in style. Guinness-guzzling, leprechaun-loving Londoners will be painting the town green. But for what? All I know is that paddy chased the snakes out of Ireland, probably pushing them somewhere north of Liverpool. So how is it that he has become much more of an icon than our very own Patron Saint George?
Firstly, we have to look at the facts. I don't want to discredit Patrick but George took on a whole lot more than a pack of slow worms. He fought off a bloody dragon who was hanging somewhere in the hills near Slough. Now, I'm no fighting expert, but I'd say that's a pretty mean feat. He is also said to have endured some of the worst torture that the Roman army had to offer because he refused to deny his faith in Christ. Again, I feel that shows a fair amount of balls.
Patrick also believed in Christ. In fact, while he wasn't playing 'it' with snakes he was converting warriors and princes by baptising them in wells. He bumped into some Druids, told them what for and then, it seems, he went to Glastonbury and didn't make it home (many people can relate to that).

"Even I shall be partaking in a jig or two with a cool pint of stout whilst
clutching my four-leaf clover on Friday March 17."

So, all-in-all Patrick was a fairly nice guy. He brought faith to Ireland and got rid of the serpents. But I still can't quite understand how he has taken the spotlight from George. Ask any English person when Saint George's day is and I bet they can't tell you. I only know because it is the same day as my dead dog Archie's birthday. However, everyone knows when Saint Patrick's Day is. And, in a truly hypocritical way even I shall be partaking in a jig or two with a cool pint of stout whilst clutching my four-leaf clover on Friday March 17.
All I ask is people leave a little more space in their lives for George. April 23 is Saint George's Day. Buy a rose and raise a glass of truly English ale in memory of George, and for one day be proud to be English.

getting old :(

2005-11-01T16:42:00.000Z

I am feeeling pretty miserable as i only have a day and a half left of being 20. Soon I will no longer be just 20; but in my 20's which means I need to find a man to bear children with, settle down and pay bills like a normal human being. At present my day-to-day life consists of University, the pub in which I work, the pub in which i drink and my bed. I like it like this and if i turn 21 i feel it may be time to grow up a bit.

I still find talking about poo funny, i like watching disney films in bed on cold weekday afternoons and i still can't manage my own finances at all. I am constantly told i look too young to work behind a bar (and too short to see over it) and i have to take ID to my local pub !How can i really be an adult ?

So, although I am looking forward to the presents and the party and the drinking.... truthfully I am dreading turning 21.

I wish i was 11 again.

my very first sunny birthday

2005-10-28T15:52:00.000Z

I think this year i may get to enjoy the sunshine on my birthday (Nov 3). In all honesty I think this is the result of people flushing too many tampons into the atlantic, leaving their TV's on standby and other insensitive things that are causing the seas to warm up and the climate to change.
Now, not for one second would i condone these actions. Global warming is terrible. We are, one-by-one, person-by-person, generation-after-generation destroying the planet we live in. And our children's children will be punished for this when George Bush 4th pulls the big plug that keeps us all on our Playstations and computers, because all the power has run out.
However, I am a positive person. I like to look at all aspects of any situation. And, I know by saying this I will receive 1 grillion comments of abuse, but I am looking forward to the first birthday i've ever had that may be frost free.
It was 21 degrees yesterday. The hottest October day since the last hottest one and that is good. And although the beeb are threatening the most severe winter since the 60's - i'm happy as long as my 21st isn't a wet one.

bird flew

2005-10-26T15:30:00.000Z

So, polly is dead. Polly the little parrott contracted avian influenza after a night out in southend and now we may all catch it and die. As usual the route cause of the UK's problems began in Essex and now i must spend every day and night checking myself for webbed toes, a swollen face and the general urge to peck things.
In all seriousness bird flu is beginning to give me the heeby geebies. I have decided (as a member of MI5) that there is a huge Government cover up to stop the ensuing panic and, in fact, many people in England already have the disease. For example, I live in Farnham, a place full of normal average folk. However, I have started to notice a scarily large amount of coughing, spluttering, freaky looking (almost bird like) people walking the streets late at night. And now one of my collegues has "mumps", yeah right.

The doctors know little, the health officials are keeping pretty quiet and HRH Tony is as tight lipped as a nun's ******. He has been given every imunisation on the planet, so he's OK.

I was so concerned that i turned to Tony's best mate Georgy Porgy Bush for some advice and his words of wisdom went something along the lines of "We're in communications with the world. I'm not predicting an outbreak. I'm just suggesting to you that we better be thinking about it, and we are," the president said.

Thanks George. I will just keep thinking about it.

men are from mars ....

2005-08-11T12:37:00.000Z

I am considering becoming a lesbian. Or a widow. Or a hermit. Either way I am fed up of men. Who ever said men are from mars, women are from venus was wrong. Men are from an all together further away place. I think it is somewhere in the depths of mordor or maybe even hell. Either way they are born there, in this pit of fire and sweat and they sit all day scheming about how to pi*s women off.
They do this because they like to rub eathother egos and their own. They do this because from the moment they are born, or made or mass-produced they are inadequate, missing something. I think the thing they are missing is known as comon sense, manners, respect - in fact i really can't sum it up in words. They are horrible, vile creatures who's only use if for the stuff that comes out of their little winkie (which just happens to be the centre of their world and their converstaion).
I am not a feminist, and i have no plans to set fire to any of my lingerie, but i really am fed up with them. All of them. I am fed up with being a second class, second rate citizen who is subjected to double-standard, double-glancing perverted male orientated planet.

PS - I do not have to give my reasons for hating men. It is obvious.
PPS - Please do not all send me abusive comment now- this is not a gerneralisation - it is a fact.

It could be me ?

2005-08-10T12:32:00.000Z

I have a problem. An addictive, terrible problem. It goes by the name of internet gambling and it is halving my bank account as i type.
It all started innocently enough on a day at the office. I won a local radio competition, which landed me cakes and goodies for my entire workplace. That all went down thoroughly well and i was inundated with friends for over 20 minutes. So on a lucky streak i decided to purchase a euromillions ticket (which has now been won by someone far more deserving) on the internet. 1 euromillions ticket costs 1.50 but on the internet you have to top up your account with at least 5 pounds. So, i did. And i didn't win. Then it was a rollover so with my 3.50 credit i bought another ticket. I didn't win. And, yes, you've guessed it another rollover and still no millions in my pocket. This left me with 50p. Not enough to by myself a euro millions ticket, or anything else for that matter. So I topped up again and now i'm skint. And i have begun to get obsessed. I stare out of the window and plan my little cottage by the sea with a big kitchen and sea views and a walk in wardrobe full of beautiful clothes that iwill spend my winnings on. And then my fingers slip and another fiver is added to my lottery account.
The thing that makes it worse is that i could have bought three lottery tickets a week for the last five years by just popping to the shop but i never did. Now that it is at the end of my modem things are very different. The web site knows my name and welcomes me back each time i gamble my life away. Unfortunately it also knows my bank details as well.
Anyway, tonight will be the night when my little cottage becomes a reality and my days of gambling cease FOREVER !

FWD:RE:FWDFWD: etc etc blah blah blah

2005-08-09T12:14:00.000Z

I am sick of chain letters threatening me with a life of eternal miserableness, lonliness and death. Sorry that was a bit of a mouthful, but i am really fed up. Every day I arrive at my office to continue my mundane job of shifting paper around my desk, when i open my little internal office mail box to reveal an onslought of 'forever friends, 'friendship angels', monkeys, babies and who knows what else.
Usually they have a little philosopical poem written by (what sounds like a) 5 year old who has about as much of an idea about the comlexities of adult relationships and general goings on as a dead donkey. Or a little picture of a cartoon monkey's big red bum with a note about how much the sender loves you.
This much i can take, but, then comes the evil, underlying tone - If i do not send these messages on- at precisely 14.30 my brain will explode, or if i don not forward it to my lover his willy will drop off and i will die sexually frustrated and childless or if i do not make sure 15 people who i love dearly reply to the email with their witty remarks in the blanks then i am a terrible person who doesn't desrve to have any friends at all.
Well i have had enough of these pretty, pink, cute, funny, happy little letters that fill my inbox. I am a bitter old woman who would just like to be left in peace and not live a life guilt stricken because i haven't forwarded 25 people a stupid joke about why men are all such prats.

grumpy old men

2005-07-27T12:08:00.000Z

A new species has evolved.It is like no other.It has a distinctive look, sound and even smell. It is the middle aged, white, beer belly bashing, balding, inadecquate male and it moans like no other species can.
Typical noises heard by the species go along the lines of ' I read this really interesting fact in the Daily Mail' or 'They come to our country, sit on their arses and rape our children' and 'My bowels have been bunged up for nearly a year, but can i get an appointment on the NHS? Like hell I can. And it's all because of these bloody immigrants ' .
These men, if you can call them that, whinge and moan and rant but do nothing themsleves to help try and change anything. And there is a reason for this, without this insesant moaning they have nothing. They enjoy so much the discussions with their collegues and friends about the state of the country and the state of the enviroment and the state of their bowels.
Well, i personally am fed up with them. These men tend to have no manners, no time for anyone but their own species and they tend to have such major flaws in their own selves they shouldn't be wasting their time slagging off everyone else.

belated blogging

2005-07-25T10:15:00.000Z

Bonjour all,
Apparently the point of this blog malrkey is to keep regularly updating. Well I haven't posted since May, so i guess this is slightly overdue. I would like to explain why. The reason I started my blog was because I had to for a university module. Until this point I didn't even know about blogs. When I started I really enjoyed ranting about this and that thinking there wasn't really an audience at the end of my modem. But, shock horror, there was. And i started getting e-mails with subjects like 'rubbish blog' and my ginger comments were taken very seriously and i received much e-abuse for them. I also only got a 'C' grade for my online journalism and felt somewhat dishartened to continue my anti-ginger rants. However, after all the crap that happened in London i saw lots of bloggers comments published in the paper and i realised that people's opinions count for a lot. So I am back ...... and i'm ready to rant. I will drop the ginger comments though, in hope that my inbox wont have a thousand e-mails entitled 'ginger's have feeling too'.

LBB for president

2005-04-24T18:24:00.000Z

hola again. I'm back and still just as confussed on the voting front. I'm seriously considering not voting now as no party meets my needs. It seems Mr Kilroy-Silk dislikes brown babies more than I realised. So, on principle I just can't give his party my vote. So right now It seems I shall have to refrain completely.
I have however decided that I should run for leader of this country. I truly think the world would be a better happier place. If you would like to see a brown, hairy-toed hobbit as your PM please vote for my party in the next General election.

LBB manifesto.

1) I pledge to slice the willies off every man who is on the sex offender list. This includes paedophiles, rapists - the lot of them. I would remover their 'members' with a blunt spoon and leave them to die slowly in a pit of their own guilt and disapointment.

2) I would make every last lazy bugger work. This means everyone who is on the dole and not truly looking for a job would work for me. I would hire them to clean the streets and massage my hairy toes. Anyone who remains on the dole would receive vouchers instead of money. These would be divided into clothing vouchers (primark), food vouchers (Happy Shopper spam) aqnd social vouchers (brown paper bag and a piece of string).

3) In terms of immigration I would tighten laws. However cute little brown babies can stay. As long as people are willing to intergrate and work hard they are allowed to stay but must not be treated as special cases. I would welcome all Nepalesians with open arms as I love a good Ghurka beer and chicken dish. I would in fact sacrifice one English ginger for every Nepalesian.

4) I would introduce politics as a lesson in school starting from the age of 12. So that when people reached the voting age they might actually have some foundation on which to lay their vote.

5) I would remove VAT from products such as tampons and condoms. In fact I would give condoms free to all those people who should not reproduce (ie ginger people, ugly people etc). This would also stop the spread of the dangerous disease STG (sexually transmitted ginger) which can cause a normal person to become ginger over night.

6) Lastly I would remove every speed camera that is not outside a school or in a truly dangerous area. I would then string up all police officers who hide in bushes and sit on bridges (causing people to slam on their brakes) and drive at them at 36 miles an hour.

Vote Kilroy ?

2005-04-21T12:17:00.000Z

I have to admit that I may need to retract my statement that I am 100% definate about voting Lib-Dem. I know I was very sure of my choice, however at that point I had not read each parties manifesto in detail. Now I have. And, i'm sorry Mr. Kennedy but I just don't know if I can vote for you. I suppose it may be the Europe issue or maybe the tax issue, i'm not sure. I just don't think I can do it.

So it is time to review my choices; Labour ? No. I can't and I definitely wont. Anyone who likes to kiss Bush is no friend of mine. He he. Then there's the Conservatives and for reasons published previously i can't do that either.

My boyfriend suggested I vote for Kilroy-Silk. Seriously, what a name. All I knew of the white haired man was his patronising manner on his sellf-named show and that he made a bit of a boo-boo slagging off brown people and the like. Now, as a campaigner for babies of the poo coloured variety I did not feel I could even take the time to read his manifesto. I did though. In some ways it was good.

The thing that made me like it was his party's ideas no tax. A 22% flat rate on earnings above £12,000. Which means that poor sods like me would not have to pay income tax until we could at least afford to eat aswell. It makes so much sense to pay tax as a percentage of earnings rather than a set amount. The rich will still be paying more but it will be fair. The Lib-dems want to push earnings over £100,000 into a 50% tax bracket and that to me is the wrong message to give to a nation.

The disliking brown people thing is the only flaw in Kilroy's party manifesto. But, then again, everyone's talking immigration these days, and that's fair enough. I'm not going anywhere. I didn't arrive hiding in the hull of boat off Bognor Regis so he can't kick me out. Most of his manifesto makes sense. And common sense is something most politicians seem to lack.

Narrow minded, ill-educated bigot

2005-04-09T12:36:00.000Z

I am writing in response to a blog, that I wish I had never wasted my time reading, but feel I have to reply to. Can't read? Can't write ? Sod off then is the biggest load of tripe going. Everyone is entitled to their own (insular) opinion, however, I think it is worth getting your facts straight before rambling utter drool.

Firstly, it is not only "academically stupid kids" who suffer from dyslexia. Some of the most intelligent people in the whole of academia land suffer from dyslexia, and/or cross lateralism. Assuming you are not a neurologist, I suggest you do some reading before slagging thses people off. I would really like to see you stand up and say this to someone who has a first class degree at Oxford but has battled with Dyslexia all their life.

Statements like "but I couldn't care less if you can't read very well, or spell anything" are really not going to get you very far in life. Just because you are blessed with more than one brain cell does not make you Einstein and nor does it make some one with dyslexia thick.
The characteristics that make a dyslexic the way he or she is can often be found in people told to be genius. It is simply a mater of how each persons brain works and that is why people of an extremly high intelect can suffer massively with dyslexia.

I don't claim to be the most politically correct person, but you are taking stereotyping and reactionary bigotry to a whole new level.

Oh, and in terms of your magazine. With opinions like that no one, not even dyslexics will be wasting their time reading it.

Sex and the City article

2005-04-07T12:05:00.000Z

SEX AND THE CITY OBSESSED

For any of you visiting to get the questions for my Sex and The City Article:

Thank you very much for taking the time to help me
Please send all answers to my e-mail mcsporren@anytimenow.com
Please could you include you personal details ( name, age, country)
I may get back to you with a few more questions. I hope this will be OK.

here they are ......

1) How long have you been watching 'Sex and the City'?

2) Who is you favourite character?

3) Do you own any of the DVD's or any other 'Sex and the City' memorabilia (please give details)

4) Do you think the charcters are realistic ? Do you think you are similar or different to them ?

5) Would you regard yourself as 'Sex and the City' obsessed?

6)Do you watch any other similar programmes ? ('Desperate Housewives' etc)

Long time no speak

2005-04-05T11:41:00.000Z

Appologise for the very poor blogging of recent. I suppose nothing has annoyed me enough to feel the need to rant in cyberspace. Now I feel a need for a general discusion. The election ...... fun fun.
I think I have decided to vote Liberal Democrat. " A wasted vote" I hear you cry. Well as myself and my house mates discussed this week, it's not. If everyone who is unsure who to vote for, or feels they would like to vote lib-dem but can't get of their arses,actually did vote; it might make it all worth while.
And these are the people the lib-dem candidates should be presuring. People like me who feel it is important to vote. People who are well aware that people died for the vote. And people who recognise that in some countries women still can't vote.
The lib-dems should be pushing at students and young people who have not been on the planet long enough to form firm political opinions, but know they don't feel prepared to keep a man who took us to war on as PM.
I will be honest. I couldn't tell you all of the Lib-Dem's foriegn policies. In fact I couldn't tell you all of their policies here at home. I also would be concerned at their lack of experience governing a country. But... and here's where it all starts to make sense .... who else are you going to vote for ?
I may live in a town which will be run by conservatives untill the cows come home. I may have been brought up in a labour voting, single parent, meat and two veg house. But if I am going to make it out of bed on May 5th it will be to vote Lib-Dem. They are the only party worth leaving my warm bed for.

Puts it all into perspective....

2005-03-22T12:27:00.000Z

This whole blogging thing seems a bit crazy at times. But when my brother suggested a blog to look at, it all began to make a bit more sense. Random acts of reality is seriously well worth a look. It'll certainly make you think.

Out in the sticks

2005-03-20T19:16:00.000Z

For the last 4 hours there has been no power in my house. It happened last Thursday and again the week before. Power cuts seem to becoming quite common in the village that I live in. I mean it's hardly the third world Congo here, it's a fairly nice area, but for some reason all power goes if more than one person uses a liquidizer at the same time.
The first time it happened it was really qite scary. It didn't help that the night before I had watched the Texas Chainsaw Masacre, and was a little 'on edge' anyway. Basically a local teenager hired out the village hall for a night of underage drinking and pre pubesant snogging. However Bix village's power supply could not go to the length of powering his boombox; so everyone's lights went out.
This meant that on return to my house on a Friday evening, Thai takeaway and a bottle of wine in hand, I was greeted by a load of screaming teenagers running around in the dark. Immediately my logic kicked in, "This is it, the Bix Village Chainsaw Massacre has begun."
I ran inside and scrambled in the dark, scared shitless and waiting to hear the reving of a chainsaw engine.Luckily it never came, but everytime I heard a creak, I hid under the very important safety net - my duvet.

Anyway, this is my first of many whinges about living out in the sticks. I hate cities, I hate traffic, in fact I hate people. But it does get a bit lonely sitting in the dark waiting to die.

Class of 2005

2005-03-12T14:12:00.000Z

Students these days are the gadget loving, heavy drinking, non-dating, Lib-Dem voting class of 2005, or so says the Guardian. But is this really true?

From my experience of university most of what the guardian has to say is true. However the article contradicts itself over and over again. However, I think that this may be a device used to personify the image that students are like oxymorons. Skint, but always with the MP3 player at hand. Loaded down with work, yet clubbing until dawn.

What I particularly noticed was that the article only looks closely at a few students from a similar social group, who live in the same area. Afterall, universities are just not the same. People's experiences vary due to where they are, the cost of housing, the type of course etc.

The statsics however represent a larger and more scary picture. The Lib-Dem voting stuff ? I think the problem with students and politics is that students want to stand up for themselves. They need a government who cares about minimum wage and tuition fees but they also want to feel like they have a chance in the big, bad, capitalist society that awaits them. Labour put up fees and the conservatives wont help anyone who doesn't shop in Waitrose, (SEE SUPERMARKET HIERACHY BLOG)so they vote Lib-Dem. This is important to note as these are the next generation of politicians and voters alike.

Is it really true that 76% of students claimed to be organised with their money ? I mean, seiously who were these strange folk we speak of. I was certainly not asked to comment for this survey, and neither was anyone I know.I have NEVER met a student who could be classified as organised with their money. Surely that would defy the object of being at University. You arrive at a place where the beer is cheap and flows all night long and your bank account is credited into the thousands three times a year (with the teeniest of interest rates). If your sensible with your money at University, the only way forward is to become an accountant and marry a ginger person.

Over half of the students questioned had a DVD player in their room. Now that is more like it. Students spending money on gadgets that they probably don't need. The best statistic of all though is the one that states 95% of students are happy with their life. I really hope this one is true. I know that I am happier now, at uni, than I have ever been before. University is the time in life where you've gone through the shit of growing up and puberty and stuff and you get to just be you. You can play all day, watch morning TV to your hearts desire and eat kebabs on the way home, every day !

University gives you confidence and independence and the chance to prove that you can get a degree whilst being permanently inebriated. And that, my friend, is a skill.

Supermarket Hierachy

2005-03-12T12:59:00.000Z

On receiving the news that our local 'One Stop' shop is turing into a 'Tesco Express, I started thinking about how different supermarkets represent different things, on a slightly more political level then I had previously thought. It just seems to be an unwritten rule that certain people should shop in certain places. So in my mind I put together a supermarket hierachy and it looked something like this .....

At the bottom, the lowest of the low ....... Representing the Scum Class:

'Lidl', 'Aldis' and 'Londis'.

These supermarkets, if you can even call them that, all smell very similar. It's a scent that reminds you of your granny subtly mixed with the smell of a wet dog. These supermarkets do not bother with shelving as they simply stack boxes on top of boxes precariously, waiting to crush any passing
chav. Oh, and FYI you must pay for plastic bags in these shops and that's not because the owners care about saving whales.

In penaultimate place is the not very cheap and very rarely cheerful ...... Representing the Going slowly out of bussiness class:

'One Stop'.

This supermarket represents the middleground between the place where you risk disease and assault and a slightly more commercial place where the staff have more then one GCSE. However One Stop has gone a bit Pete Tong and now many a JCB has been unleashed on the properties, some turning into 'Tesco Express@'. One Stop has also recently withdrawn Cherry Coke can's from their shelves, a bad desicion in my eyes (please see anyprevious entry for my love of cherry coke).

In fourth Place is the recently taken over by them lot up north .......... Representing the Fairly average class:
'Safeway/Morrisons'.

This Supermarket is the first of the list where I would shop with my mind free. The deals are pretty good, but overall it's just not that cheap. The local 'Safeway' has been turned into a Waitrose ( please see first place)much to my disaproval.

In third place is the best supermarket in the world (in my opinion) .......... Representing the Upper Class of the Cheap class:

Tesco.

It is sad to see my favourite lying in third place. But it has to be this way as Tesco is just not posh. It is however great for students with the value range, great for mums with cheap baby clothes and great for the army members of Aldershot as it has big windows that they can look at themselves in. There's nothing I love more than visiting the hot chicken stand on a Monday afternoon and swinging by for some value Gin on my way out.

In the Silver position is the young proffesional's choice............ Representing the Not quite 6 figure class:
'Sainsburys'.

This supermarket is owned by a lord, need I say more. It has a value range but it's called the basics and it has much more attractive packaging then Tesco. You will mainly see single thirty something men in here buying microwave meals for one.

And finally in first place is the fox hunters favourite ......... Represting the My daddy owns a mansion class:

'Waitrose'.-

Yes it's the best of best. If you look up posh and overpriced in the dictionary you will find waitrose. People who shop here drive Range Rover Vogues with blacked out windows, and, at all time they will be sporting something that says 'fight the ban'. Most people who shop in 'Waitrose' know someone called Tarquin.

Testing testing 1 2

2005-03-10T12:46:00.000Z

This is a test post to link to The Guardian

back at the ranch

2005-03-09T13:45:00.000Z

So now that our box set fever has ended; until we are rich enough to purchase the O.C, what are we doing now ? Well, we have discovered a new way to have fun for free. Scaring ourselves shitless, late at night by watching low budget texan films about madmen weilding chainsaws. This afternoon we plan to rent free DVD's from our uni library for yet another televisual feast of blood and guts. Starting posibly with Jeepers Creepers and then perhaps moving slightly more upmarket to the exorcist. Spent the morning looking at 'flavor flav' websites for pictures of the strange little black man with his big clock. Yes, I said clock. For those who don't know he is a retired rap artist who recently had a 'thing' with sylvestor stallone's ex. Fascinating for those who's lives relove around Z list celebs.

The End is ...... Gone

2005-03-01T12:46:00.000Z

Well, it's over. Nearly 100 hours of 'Sex And The City' crammed into two weeks of viewing. Us five girls, me and my house mates, have acheived something many may never. Perhaps even a world record. And, with a tear or five shed, we have had to close up a chapter of our lives. So, what now ? We bought monopoly, another cheap way to have fun for hours on end.

box set fever

2005-02-27T12:38:00.000Z

We're getting there. 76 hours, 24 cans of cherry coke and 12 heartbreaks later we have completed four and a half series of 'Sex And The City'. At one point we opted for a 20 hour marathon session as we have to give the box set back in one week. The only breaks allowed: toilet, newsagents to stock up on necesities such as junk food and the occasional fag after a particularly sad episode. It's not that we don't have anything better to do with our lives. We are just skint girls, fantasising about a life less ordinary. In our minds we place ourselves as the sex mad charcters, who eat pizza and ice cream every day and always look thin. Women who all the men want to be with and all the girls want to be. Only another 20 hours of veiwing left and then we'll have to find something else to do with ourselves. Or we could just start on the O.C box set.