Wednesday - November 18th 2009 - 'Paying my respects to the Godfather.'

Everyone loves Mario Puzo’s ‘The Godfather’ – the film is incredible and as I’m learning now – the book is incredible too. Everyone knows the famous phrases – ‘It’s an old Sicillian message, it means Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.’ Although said slightly differently in the book. We all know the horses head, the favour on the day of his daughter’s wedding, ‘why do you pay me this disrespect’, ‘I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse’, the brilliance of Marlon Brando and Al Pacino. Even my brother’s most ubiquitous recipe has come from the cooking scene in the Godfather – you wouldn’t have even had to see the film and you know all of this, but if you haven’t then damn well see it! In fact I know quite a lot of men who lie about having seen ‘The Godfather’ because it is all too embarrassing to say you haven’t but it’s famous for a reason. And although I am not thoroughly comfortable with the glamorising of violence I do believe Don Corleone pretty much had it down. Ok – take the killing out, take it as a metaphor like you would cut that person out (not up) if they disrespected you or your family then you can begin to see the Don has some pretty sound values (family, friendships, good wine!) but the line in the novel that really floors me is: ‘The Don is straight laced about sex.’ Because this is a rare virtue– I can’t read a novel, watch a movie, enjoy a TV show without someone fucking someone else over because of, well, fucking. It’s exhausting, it’s disgusting and I know perhaps the head of the mafia is a pretty bizarre role model but that’s how I wanna be – I want people to know they can trust me because my vice is not the same as everybody else’s vice. I’m not gonna be washed up because I loved a tramp (Johnny Fontane a.k.a Frank Sinatra and his ex wife), I’m not gonna be gunned down at a toll booth because I couldn’t control my temper (Sonny), shot in a restaurant because I tried to pressure others into drugs (Sollozo), I am simply going to die an old codger with an orange in my mouth trying to entertain a grandchild. Don’t screw over the one’s you love, don’t take something that’s awesome like love, sex and relationship and bastardise it because you got greedy – getting ‘too greedy’ is another reason people die in Puzo’s underworld. A happily married family man albeit a cold blooded killer. Also Marlon Brando is massively hot – so not being a fuck up when it comes to relationships has nothing to do with a lack of hotness – in fact I would go as far as to say cheating is bred of insecurity so hotties need not ‘turn traitor.’

Something that cracked me up in the ’30 rock’, Jack explaining his girlfriend to Liz: ‘She is deeply religious’, to which Liz replies, ‘If I had those knockers I’d be thanking God too.’

Friday - November 6th 2009 - 'A Bath of Maple Syrup.'

In the bath I thought about me, me, me. But more specifically my trip to Canada next year - as you know I plan to take up residence in the home of bacon and hockey sticks for prolly about a year. People keep asking if I’m excited or anxious and I never really know how to respond, I’m a little of both but I don’t want to foresee too much before I go - I want to live it once, not make too many pictures, that sort of thing. The way I try and do this is I view the trip as an Ace. Aces can be high or low - my trip could be wild (lots of travel, published writing, different exciting jobs) or safe (save up some money, spend a quite year with mum having quit smoking and taken up a lot more exercise.) Quitting smoking of course comes either way - smoking is gross. And while the wild card sounds the best I think I’m going to decide as I go what I want, after all both high and low can make a 21, right? Yeah, the card metaphor is deep.

So in my narcissi fashion I have delegated presents I want from my friends based on their certain talents. Scroll for names as you please and if you feel you have been left out let me know of your particular gift and I will be even more excited.

Doccy - A Pep guide to medicine (not all medicine just you know the things I phone you for at 2 am - pregnancy, diabetes, cancer, broken nails.)
Rose - An essay on a ‘Streetcar named Desire’ and why you love it.
L.C - A song, preferably on your double bass.
Erin - A list of all the naughty words you have taught me.
Chico - A full examination - gapping included.
Catty Toe - A sonnet in Chinese
Fox - A photo…of me.
Mary - I want to be a video game heroine.
Alice - A you tube medley that sums up the past 3 years.
Sasha Fierce - Q.O.T.D
Whib - A dramatic piece with all the best college characters (including smokey Grandma).
Dave - A short story.

You’ll miss me and my ludicrous demands… right?! When I cross that border to be submerged in the bath of maple syrup, you know just the usual initiation rights into a new country. I will emerge able to play hockey and will have a better attitude towards the environment but also much less fashionable and prolly with a thicker waist. Erk.

Tuesday - 3rd November 2009 - 'Totes Photes.'

Lady Macbeth's photos to be exact.

Tuesday - November 3rd 2009 - 'Ode to O'Dell.'

Not really but well he asked for more blog…he got more blog. It turns out life is funny outside the four walls of my house. I dared to leave them for something other than the post office, to which I have become addicted as of late (it’s where I post off all my bigwardrobe.com pieces.) I ‘megabused’ to London to stay with the Fox before ‘mega bussing’ early the next morning to York. I miss London, terribly - it’s not just that lots of friends live there or the fact that it is beautifully lit at night or even the abundance of restaurants, bars, clubs and theatres where I have had so many good times, it’s that London truly is captivating. I can’t quite put my finger on it, the culture, the history, the fashion…? I believe it is true that ‘s/he who tires of London tires of life for in London there is all that life beholds.’ Perhaps a tad dramatic but when you’re there it’s the only thing you believe. Until of course you go to York - there is a lot of people in York functioning just fine without Big Ben, I found it weird at first but then got used to it, after all it was incredibly beautiful and homes my beloved Rose.
Rose is never far from what I’m thinking about - like many of my friends I am besotted with them, I have plenty of friends but for me to consider someone a best friend it takes more - I have to know all your imperfections and love you anyway, love the way you think and hold yourself, love your ideas and the way you love me. It’s like this whole massive elite club but its not based on arbitrary details like dress or money but love and respect.
We argued about everything from her distaste of my new favourite film, ‘Streetcar Named Desire’ to what was more important to feeling - imagination or experience. We dressed up as Bobby D. That’s Bob Dylan to you and me - I’m not too sure anyone calls him Bobby D and we spoke for hours into a Dictaphone. Tipsy on some pink Vodka drink and having consumed far too much mascarpone and pasta we giggled into the wee hours of the morning. I was then back up a few hours later to catch the ‘megabus’ to London only to race through the big smoke to catch another ‘megabus’ to Wiltshire to see the boy. I’m mad about the boy. I think in Meatloaf’s ‘I would do anything for love’, continuous stints of 7 hour ‘megabus’ trips should be up there, I’m not sure he would do that for love - I sure as hell did (begrudgingly), Meatloaf wouldn’t.

And I would bus 500 miles and I would bus 500 more just to be the woman that busses 1,000 miles to fall down at your door.

Just have to do that shove-a-couple-of-words-where-only-one-word-will-fit thing and it is a very beautiful song. Once in Wiltshire I did all the good girlfriend things, like see his family, attend his mates birthday (which is all good because I love mate’s girlfriend), do the washing up (which is not so good - I slashed my thumb and ended up in stitches, continued to wash up with one hand as I didn’t want to be seen as sissy but washing up isn’t like continuing a battle or anything, I think it showed I was daft more than anything), tidied his bedroom (which works O.K for me I can bin a load of his crap and he won’t find out unless he ever reads this!) watched X-factor with his Mummy (what would the bro say he found out I had willingly watched ITV? Eek) picked his niece up from school and tried my hardest not to side with either of his sisters against the other. I’m pretty good right? And all my dealing with the family knowledge I tried to bestow on a fellow girl in need, unfortunately all I could do was regurgitate things the Delhi Lama had said - I hope it was helpful! Debs? Was it?!
Words of wisdom when the other side gets too.. Dark?!

They have not had your exact upbringing some things will be different - the politest thing (which is what you want to do even if things are feeling barbaric) is ‘When in Rome’. To get on your high horse and tell them about waiting for the other to start supper or not swearing is not the best - you will get no where and instead people will ‘get their back up’ instead try and do these things without preaching.

Never bitch about one family member to another - even if they are and it seems the right thing to do - abscond from the conversation even if you really, really want to join in!

Pay more attention to children then adults as a general rule - this way when the adults are being annoying you can easily slide into playing with the children.

Don’t start every sentence with ‘In my family…’ This little madam learnt that the hard way!

Learn to Love.

Collective family history is a big deal and people love to tell their stories again and again - don’t feel put out by the fact you haven’t got a bunch of jokes - keep asking, they will enjoy it.

Find common ground and focus on that - no matter how little you think there will be. you are all human after all.

Do not get disheartened if you don’t agree with everything the family say or even most of what they say - even if you damn right hate them - some part of them made up the person you love. No one is all bad.

And everyone’s family is crazy, it always looks weirder from the outside.

Of course if I could only stick to all my own rules!

O and erm ex-boyfriends families? Well my own little rule I have made up… If your ex boyfriend’s cousins happen to move into your old family home make sure that no small £26.49 to a rather annoying mobile broadband company goes unpaid without your noticing. Bailiffs banging on their door demanding an arbitrary £500 will not make you seem cool, calm and collected since the break up. In fact you just look like a crook, I have never written a more bizarre sorry card to anyone in my life!



P.S
O'Dell I love you.
You're hot for a gay.
You're hair is fit.
You make me laugh
When your being a tit.

Tuesday - October 20th 2009 - 'Lie To Me.'

Lies we tell small children - crusts make your hair curly, potatoes will grow behind your ears, if you sit on your sister’s head one more time I will gobble you up.

Lies I was told as a small child (by my eldest brother Austen) - I will grow up to be a man (all I could focus on was what would happen to all my clothes - I suppose the whole new penis thing was a bit too much to take in), that my Mum had a secret penchant for fishing and rather than ever being on the loo or nipping to the shops instead she was apparently always fishing, also that my auntie was a black jack dealer in Vegas, the Devil’s punchbowl was something the Devil spat in, a donkey powered the electricity in my house by means of a water mill - he unfortunately died on Christmas day and most recently and this one still sticks - I was adopted from Conseula the Spanish maid.

Lies we tell in our everyday life - I totally agree with you, I do not think he is remotely attractive, I am in no way jealous of your hot new job in the city and am totally happy for you (yes Fox I mean you!)

Lies we tell on the internet (not the awful ones - no jokes there) - I am an avid party goer who is just always up for a good time and never stays in, I have read all the classics - I am like totally smart but also really hot, I’m sexy but mysterious (there is nothing mysterious about your half naked profile picture), and I was born in Paris.
Something I can’t stand but then again can totally understand is the use of the internet to reinvent yourself but erm, get a grip! Something I like about me is what you get on here is what you get in real life - I really am this soppy and open and talk far more bullshit in the flesh than I could possibly type. Don’t tell me you were born in Paris, that you would die without Lagerfeld in your life, that you are the most chic person in the world, that you’re like totally super smart but just don’t want to prove it right now by naming a book, yo. I get that we all want to be a little better - improved version of ourselves I should think - but a different person entirely? What happened to any real aesthetic in your life? Cyber space can only hold you so much and please try to remember I have met you. (Not actually talking about one person just, you know, different people all at once.)
My little rant over - for now but Grr!

If you’re gaining weight because you keep eating too much cheese and drinking too much red wine you don’t become fat, you become portly right? Because portly at least insinuates there is some dignity in ballooning up, yeah? With me? Good. I guess portly can go in the lies you tell yourself, along with I can definitely afford that and I like 80’s power ballads because it’s ironic, obviously.

Monday - October 12th 2009 - 'Give Pres A Chance.'

Obambi winning the Nobel Peace Prize must have been one massive PR headache. On one hand Obambi hasn’t quite managed to do anything yet, and Obambi would recognise that. On the other hand whilst turning the peace prize down would have of course seemed rude and obnoxious (that you know better than a committee designed for this purpose) but it would show the world he wasn’t quite that serious about nuclear disarmament – and that’s what we care about isn’t it? That Bambi is serious, that he hopes to live up to his promises.
Apparently not, apparently we are far too suspicious and easy to condemn a man willing to accept a prize he hardly solicited in the first place. It seems plenty of journalists and well I guess – any Tom, Dick or Sally with a computer that can blast their opinion online - has used that voice to hide behind anonymous virtual doors and tell him he is not only not worthy, but wrong to accept the award. Personally, this doesn’t sound like a very intellectual or enlightened standpoint. It goes to show that Bambi is leading the way, the good way for a country ready to pounce on anything that could possibly be construed as a mistake.
There seem to be two types of winner for the Nobel Peace Prize, one that we all recognise being the life time achievement type – Mother Teresa, Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, but there are only so many of those people – the other type of award goes to the people who are making significant attempts to change the world, people trying to make peace in Northern Ireland for example, it took a few Peace Prizes awarded to that cause until something came of it. The Nobel committee are clearly putting faith in Obambi, hoping instead of backing down on certain reforms, as it could be said he has on medical reforms (perhaps because of the unfounded amount of criticism he has received), he won’t back down, instead he will see this as incentive – appealing to the very moral side of Obambi that he won’t continue to back down on more incredibly important reforms.

In a way the Nobel Peace Prize committee are trying to change the future by encouraging Obambi – a very powerful man in a very powerful country. However, unfortunately America is also a very suspicious country – especially of Europeans. But what are they afraid of? I’m pretty sure it’s not still the 50s and America has somewhat recovered from the Red Scare – so that we can safely assume that Obambi is not, as he has been bizarrely called, a communist. Perhaps he is showing a reciprocation of respect – which we in Europe are showing him. Obambi means a lot to the world outside America (it exists, shocking), he has become this bastion of hope – something a world apart from the Bush days, which made a near laughing stock of American Politics.
Yes, there is justifiable criticism – that he hasn’t actually achieved much yet – but if he manages to do even half the things he has promised he will have more than earned his place in those first types of winners. Isn’t hope a form of peace?

I refuse to believe I am the only optimist but unfortunately it has become clear people have chosen something as wonderful as the Nobel peace prize and turned it into something damning. It would seem people love to slander – personally I refuse to be part of that mass, that mass that would rather see someone fail. I just hope America can get over it, see it as the positive thing it was supposed to be and support a man so thoroughly interested in supporting America.

Friday - October 8th 2009 - 'Beat them or join them...'

What about secret option number three? Accept them but still be different? No?

I met up with my fabulous Godfather this week, he took me to a restaurant in the New Forest – how I have never been to the New Forest before is beyond me – but it was incredible! So picturesque, it was rainy too, kinda gave it that Lear-on-the-heath feel. And over a pizza in Café Uno – yes I ate the whole thing and was pretty proud! – We discussed my intentions as an unpublished female writer. That I want to promote feminism, good feminism, feminism that doesn’t damn others but celebrates others and how I had a long way to go and a lot of hurdles to overcome.

Thinking about this as a theme in my life, I couldn’t help but wonder about my relationship with Big - only joking. I actually stumbled across some very interesting articles in the latest Marie-Claire (the one with Alexandra Burke on the cover,) and there was some great insight into the female mind, there always is, but Zed Nelson’s exposé on beauty pageants was fascinating – how much we judge others purely on aesthetics, how far some women have regressed, how plastic surgery is a cornerstone in some people’s regimes. Geez! It was all so much – Do we need to beat them? (Try to be ‘prettier’, wear nicer clothes, take out a big loan for Botox and plastic surgery.) Do we join them? (Do exactly the same.) Or can we ever just accept each other for our ‘downfalls’ and try to tread a more spiritual path rather than an obstacle course of other women’s approval. Yes, easily said, I know and I’m not heralding myself as an ambassador for spiritual enlightenment – I suppose I am publicising it, in hope I will spark debate. Can we ever truly be happy for other people if we are constantly trying to beat them or join them?

Side note – Thank you Marie-Claire for including Alice Dogruyol as a ‘Real Shape, Real Style’ model for curvy women, a voluptuous and stunning size 16-18. Woo Woo.

And now I hope to abandon these on-my-high-horse blogs and hope that my message filters through in the everyday things I say, not the lectures I give!