About a week or so ago in the Metro someone had written in to say that they thought Beyoncé isn’t a feminist purely because of the clothes she wears and that fact her last album spoke explicitly about sex. Now putting all my love for her aside, I’m going to counter that utterly ridiculous argument.
Beyoncé is a feminist.
As many of you know, my best friend is a very awkward man named Tas. I’ve frequently spoken about how awkward he is and how I’m trying to find him a girlfriend. While all this was happening, we would frequently get asked how long we’d “been together,” as if we were a couple. For about six years we would just explain that no, we’re not together and we’re just best friends.
But it seemed that everyone “shipped” us, so much so that when we announced on Facebook that we’re in a relationship we were both bombarded with messages all saying “congratulations” and “finally!”
So this is the story of how I met Tas…
It’s no secret that I love music more than the average 20 year old Londoner. Where everyone has their hobbies on what they spent their hard earned money from (better known as student loans) mine pretty much revolves around music. Reading about it, listening to it, and going to see it.
I was lucky enough to go and see Eminem at his second Wembley gig. Regardless of what everyone has said about it being a flop and the sound was awful or whatever – I had a great time! The atmosphere more than made up for the crappy sound quality, which is one of the main reasons I love going to gigs so much.
Another “main reason” gigs are basically heaven for me is it allows me to see the person that wrote the lyrics I love so very much, and suddenly that person isn’t just a poster on a wall or the sound in my headphones – they are there. They are alive. They are standing in front of me and talking to me!
I’ve always wanted tattoos. I think they’re amazing and beautiful, and I would love to have one. Or ten. Mostly they’d be lyrics of songs that have changed my outlook on life and myself, and quotes that have helped me come to terms with the person I am: a total wreck.
But for some reason, certain people hate tattoos. And it’s these people that are the ones in power. For the most part…
Yesterday our literary Queen J.K. Rowling posted a Quidditch World Cup column, which is the first published Harry Potter piece since Deathly Hallows, seven years ago (I’m not counting ‘The Tales of Beedle The Bard’ here…)
The column was written in the style of Rita Skeeter, which is pretty vital, and is something that readers seem to have overlooked completely.
I’ve been “blessed” with having naturally ridiculously curly hair. It’s not even the nice curly – it’s that annoying “curly frizz now with extra frizz” kind of curly, which if you have it you know is a bitch to maintain.
When I leave it natural, my hair kind of takes the weird shape of a rounded triangle. It just gets wider and wider as it gets frizzier and frizzier towards the ends of my hair. I resort to straightening my hair to within an inch of it’s life (and then cry about split ends) just to make sure it’s easier to handle, look after, and make me look acceptable when out in public.
So many people will hear that my hair is curly and respond with “oh my god you’re so lucky, I’d love to have curly hair!”
No, no, no. You do not know the gamble, the risk, the heartache that comes with having naturally curly hair. It is a royal pain in the arse!
I’ve never really reviewed anything before, and definitely not anything to do with beauty. That’s just not me! Even though I have a weird fascination with makeup that no one ever really knows about me.
Till I’ve just written about it now.
BUT things change, and I feel like I need to get this out there because I’m just so confused as how on earth this has happened…
contains some spoilers but you should know the story by now
I FINALLY watched TFIOS last night, and let me tell you now, it was awful.
Not awful as in it is an awful adaptation; awful as in the only other movie I cried watching in the cinema was Harry Potter DH2, because come now, which 90’s child doesn’t cry at that film!? I rarely cry while watching movies; much to the dismay of some, I have never cried watching The Notebook, Titanic, or other major tear-jerkers (aside from Moulin Rouge. God, that film hits me right in the feels…)
TFIOS is beautiful as a novel, and brilliant as a film.
It’s all okay…
Trains are a strange place to be. There are always a strange breed of human mixed in with the regular commuters, just trying to get to work in one piece without having to face the ultimate weirdo. Sometimes these people are almost normal, and are just trying to get the most done on their commute, however this can ultimately make them center of attention on a packed out carriage in the early hours of the morning.
Other times, people are just downright weird.
Many people seem intent on ignoring the strange behaviour, and it’s become a thing that Londoner’s do now – we’re so used to the strange train activities that we just fade into the background and become part of the train till it’s time to jump onto the platform, and run towards the light at the top of the escalators. Or catch the next train, depending on how unlucky you are.
There’s been some hilariously outrageous train journeys had by many, including pervy men, people losing their balance, free lap-dancers, overly friendly fellow passengers and, of course, a travelling band.
Twitter Q+A’s are pretty popular now, with many big companies bringing in a specialist in whatever field to take over the company Twitter account to answer questions from fans. Reading & Leeds Festival do it every year, featuring a different band every week in the months running up to the weekend.
VH1 are also into it, and they brought in Robin Thicke today.
I have no idea what possessed them to choose him (actually I do: marketing – it gets people talking about them because who the fuck cares about VH1 anymore?) but it honestly could not have been a worse choice. No, wait, it was a great choice because everyone was tweeting them?
Business-wise it was the best choice they could have possibly made. Morality-wise, it was god-awful. There’s a long list of tweets full of hatred, anger, and full on sarcasm, all proudly containing the #AskThicke tag.