Breast Feeding, get the fuck over it.

BREAST IS BEST --- FOR TEENS, TOO.

See that headline, and anyone's eye is bound to get caught on that. I must say, I was certainly intrigued. What did this headline mean? Was the article about teen pregnancy and the importance of breastfeeding, or was it a study that revealed that we should be breastfed up until our teens? Either way, I was confused--and disturbed, and so I clicked the link to find out more.

Lo and behold, it was another study to which highlighted the marvelous benefits of the tit and the milk it produces. Brilliant. Is there nothing that this milk can't do? Well, wash my car and cure cancer for one thing, but you know, that's beside the point. This recent study has revealed that the benefits of breastfeeding are long lasting enough to extend well into our teens. A study comparing siblings that were breastfed to those that were fed on formula showed that the breastfed babies had better chances of academic success in terms of completing high school and university. Furthermore, those who were fed on formula grew hunchbacks and lived in a cathedral destined to ring bells. Okay, I may have exaggerated that.

Now, apparently because this is the first study to use siblings as its research subjects, external uncontrolable influcences such as parental genetics and environmental influences did not have to be taken into account.

Give me a fucking break.

You know what got me through finishing high school and university? My mother's iron fist. Her tits had nothing to do with it. If I wagged school, if I produced average marks, if I did not have a career plan by the time I was 17, my mother would have my arse. And you know what? It worked. Not only have I finished high school, I'm also finishing a Masters degree and to top it all off, I grew up a formula baby. That's right you mothers, I was an S26 baby, and shock horror, I'm not deformed.

Other influences don't have to be taken into account my arse. What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Seriously, shove your study, there are more pressing matters at hand. Like the fact that after all this time, nobody can tell why Paula Abdul is dancing with a cartoon cat. Is it because she was, or wasn't breastfed?

Over 100,000 people are feared dead in Haiti, and aid cannot come fast enough.

Tele-evangelist Pat Robertson claims that Haiti had it coming because they made a "pact with the devil."

I'd like to think of myself as an intelligent person. I usually can grasp the most complex of theories and what not, but I have gone through this "Robertson" logic and can still make no sense of it, perhaps you can help:

"Something happened a long time ago in Haiti, and people might not want to talk about it...They were under the heel of the French ... and they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said, 'We will serve you if you'll get us free from the French.' True story. And the devil said, 'OK, it's a deal,'..ever since, they have been cursed by one thing after another."

???

Robertson isn't the first to throw the 'they had it coming' line. When a devastating earthquake hit China in 2008, Sharon Stone piped up to say that it was all just a case of 'bad karma.' At a red carpet event, Sharon took time out of her self- indulgent day to grace us all with her words of wisdom:

"The Chinese have not been very nice to the Dalai Lama, who is a very good friend of mine... Then all this earthquake and all this stuff happened and I thought is that karma? When you're not nice, that the bad things happen to you?"

50 years old, and she sounds like she's still in kindergarten. Incidentally, I have also come across 5 year olds who have a more heightened sense of moral consciousness than Mr. Robertson.

However, I don't know what is more troubling: the fact that these people have a voice, or that there are hoards of people who agree with them.

But hey, apparently its all going to be OK, because Danni Minogue is pregnant and Kylie is just overjoyed.

*slaps forehead*

Talent not essential

So the nominations of the BAFTA's (that's the British Academy of Film and Television Arts to you philistines) for The Orange Rising Star Award came out today. This award is a people's choice those who are nominated are usually bright young things who have made it onto our screens in the past few years.



Basically, it's a "congratulations, you're sort of a star, and a good actor" type of thing.

Lets take a look at the nominees.

There's Jesse Eisenberg (the dude off Zombieland), Nicholas Hoult (the kid from About a Boy...he's not a kid anymore), Carey Mulligan (some chick), Tahar Rahim (some frenchie) and Kristen Stewart--I'm sorry what?

Kristen Stewart?

This is an award for acting right? I mean, I know that Eisenberg kid isn't, like, the next Deniro or anything but does that mean that you've really got to vote for Kristen Stewart? Are you insane!?

You're nominating her for this right?



And this...



Oh, and lets not forget this little beauty!



Seriously? You're the British Academy of Film and Television Arts, and you call this your cream of the crop? For shame. Standards have drop low.

There is no such thing as art anymore, for she has bit her lip and died.

C to the O to the C to the K bags.

Question: How do you deal with confrontation?





I'm not talking about the tragic 'my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend and I'm going to cut his balls off and kill the bitch' sort of confrontation. Obviously, those sorts of situations call for drastic action and reaction.





I'm more or less referring to small incidental 'hey don't be suck a cock-bag man' type confrontations.





Not long ago, I think it was the Saturday that had just passed, I found myself having brunch with a couple of friends at a place in Fitzroy. It was a hot day, we were all tired and grumpy, but we all persevered, because the food looked and smelled amazing. And it was. I had french toast with poached pears, vanilla bean yogurt and maple syrup. Yum yum. But although the food was great, the waiter was an arsehole, and just for no real reason at all, antagonizing someone on account of a food allergy, bumping into other customers and getting shirty with them for being in his way. You know, just a real prick.

That sort of stuff pisses me off.



Working in hospitality or retail is never easy, I know. You quickly loose your faith in humanity. People are rude to you and you're often the brunt of people's bad mood for no good reason at all. But despite all that, you're still nice to that customer. Why? Because at the end of the day, they're the ones putting money in my bank account. The way I see, small price to pay.



Which is why it pisses me off when I come across useless fuckwit service, and a waiter who's a dick and a smart arse. What's his excuse?

Did I confront him on his behaviour? No.

Did anyone else at the table? No.

What we did was smile to his face and then whisper as he walked away about what a wanker the guy was.



And why didn't we say something? What would have happened then? If we said: "No, we don't accept this "orange juice" that you've given us. It's not good enough that there was carrot and ginger residue in the juicer and that's why this orange juice does not look like orange juice, please go back and make a fresh one" would he have really thrown us out for that?

Why didn't we tell someone when we went to pay for our food that whilst the food was awesome, the particular waiter who served us wasn't? What's the worst that could have happened?

I suppose in cases like these, it's best to let sleeping dogs lie, maybe. A friend of mine had an incident were she received a pretty third rate breakfast after explicitly being refused her first order. She originally wanted to go with scrambled eggs with hollandaise sauce. The chef refused her order, claiming the hollandaise sauce will curdle in her stomach and make her sick. My was friend quite perplexed at this, as she has had the exact same order in other restaurants before with no hassle. Nonetheless, she opted for something else rather than make a fuss. What she then received was burnt toast, over cooked eggs and soggy sides. My friend ate what she could, paid for her meal, and then wrote a little note on a napkin for the chef saying that she was not pleased with her meal and would not be coming back again.

She was half- way down the street when the chef ran after her, waving the napkin in her face demanding an explanation.

Nothing really was resolved, my friend still walked away angry, and for all we know, the chef is still cooking the same crap not at all altered by any bad critique she may receive.

Today at the beach, however, I saw something inspirational. Being a hot day, it's safe to say that it was pretty crowded, and Half Moon Bay today was no exception. Of course, in any event, no matter where you are, you will always encounter a beef-cake pack of yahoos who strut around treating the beach more like their territory rather than a space to share with others. I could go into detail about the array of horrific tattoos and gold chains on display, but that's another rant entirely.

Quietly settling down to read my book, I have managed to block out most of the yahoo business and retreat into my own little world. Whilst there, I failed to notice that the group were making rather nasty pigs of themselves, and decided to throw their empty cigarette packs and ice- cream wrappers in the sand.

A young woman, having seen this, approached them and said, quite simply: "Excuse me fellas, but just letting you know, the bin's over there." And she pointed in the direction of the bins, which were a metre away.

The group then arched up. Their mentality was that nobody had the right to tell them what to do, least of all this girl. They threw their rubbish in a pile in front of her and said: "We've left this all just for you. You can clean it up if you like. Don't forget to take it with you when you leave alright baby!"

And with a "You're disgusting." She turned her back and walked away.

Nothing really was solved in her actions. The rubbish was still left there for someone to pick up, and the blokes still went about their business, thinking they were rightful kings of all they surveyed.

Thinking of the girl however, perhaps she feels a little better for having at least tried to have done something about it. She saw someone doing something she thought was wrong, and she spoke up. And even though she was rudely ridiculed without anybody defending her, she still stuck to her guns.

Maybe one of the pack will go home tonight feeling slightly ashamed for making a dick of themselves, but perhaps that is just too much to ask of some people.

One things for sure, I bet that girl is going to sleep well tonight having no regrets at all, and I retire inspired, just waiting to pounce on the next opportunity for a small confrontation.

Mind you, I'll probably go ape shit at some poor sod who doesn't really deserve it, but you know, baby steps with these things, baby steps.

This means war...

Our journey through life is sometimes defined by the major battles we face.




This.....

Just happens to be one of mine.

Every week, for the past year, I have taken part in the struggle that has been climbing the top of this leader board, and every week I am defeated. At first, it only used to be one person I would zero my sights on, because that one person always used to get ridiculous scores and I would spend fruitless hours trying to catch them. Months go by, and more and more friends join the game. I didn't mind that so much, because the more and more I played, the better I became and the higher my score, and there was a time I reigned supreme atop that leader board.

Now, there's been a new version of The Blitz, and the ridiculous scores have become even more insane.

How the hell do you fuckers get over 300,000!!!!!!!!! HOW!!!! HOW HOW HOW HOW!!!!

I hate you.

De-Shelved

I love to read. If I could do anything for the rest of my life, I would surround myself amongst a pile of books, settle down with a never ending bottle of red wine and settle myself on the biggest and comfiest armchair imaginable and read till it was my time to go.

Mind you, I haven't always been so passionate about reading. There have been books which I've grown up with, but as is the case with youth and childhood, we are often forced to do things against our will, rather than encouraged to seek something new to occupy our time. This was the case with reading.

I actually used to have a lot of trouble with reading and writing. When I started high school, my level was actually quite below average, and the consensus amongst most teachers was that I needed "a lot of work." That included a barrage of reading lists and report writing both in and outside of school. Eventually I did get better, I found my expression, and although my spelling is still quite embarrassing, my passion for reading has far exceeded anyone's expectations.

Currently, I buy more books than I am able to read. If you are ever invited to my house, the evidence of this is clear from the study. Bookshelves adorn every wall, and there are books spilling out of them, gathering dust. Time escapes us all, and I'm finding it hard to keep up with my ever growing "must read" list.

My dear friend Estelle can read 5-6 books at a time. At this moment, beside my bed, along with the general clutter that I live amongst, I have 3-4 piles of books which I thumb through before I go to bed. A book for every whim and fancy, because they're always bound to change. And whilst I've created some what of an obstacle course within my room, I enjoy being encased around it. It's all what I call, organised chaos. Everything is there for a purpose, and it's all needed, even though it's not in any discernible category.

Over the past few years, we, as a civilisation, have been undergoing what has been termed "a digital revolution." A plethora of innovations and gadgets have bombarded our lives all in the bid to make day to day existence more enjoyable and convenient. Amongst them has been the e-book.

The e-book comes in the form of an e-reader, a concept generated by Amazon which has developed the Kindle. This year, Kindle has claimed the coveted title of the most gifted product this past Christmas, and the most revolutionary product to have entered the market. At 7.5" x 5.3" x 0.7", the Kindle has wireless connectivity which enables you to connect to the Kindle store and download any book you desire in less than two minutes. You can read the book in its entirety from the device without difficulty as its high res screen reads like paper, so you don't feel like you're actually reading off a screen. Not only that, but the Kindle is also available as an app for the i-Phone and i-Pod touch, and is able to download your favourite newspapers, blogs, magazines and e-mags, and can store up to 200 books.

The traditionalist in me says, "Begone heathen device! Leave me and my clutter alone!" but there is a another tiny voice I can hear which I must acknowledge...."I want one."

And in saying that...I feel like I've betrayed a part of myself.

Certainly there are some advantages to having the Kindle in your life. The money that you would save in downloading the book in its digital form is first and foremost. In terms of convenience, I would have much preferred carrying around a Kindle through uni, instead of carting around heavy and expensive text books which I would only use once in my life, and place on the shelf to gather dust because they were no use to anyone the next year as it's already the old edition. Reading a book on the train would be less of a hassle, saving room in your purse or satchel, and also the embarrassment of people judging you by the book cover. :-/

But am I willing for the Kindle to replace my bookshelf? Surely there's some value to owning a book other than having it take up space. Is it really something which we don't need? Is it honestly that much on an inconvenience? A person's bookshelf is like a mysterious profile to their personality. It's like a tiny museum of sorts. Looking through their collection, you can gauge the type of person they are, what they're interested in, what fascinates them, what they're passions are. Observing the frayed and ruined spines you find out which books they have read over and over again, and which books haven't even been touched and are there either for show, or to serve as a reminder of what to take with them on their next outing to the beach.

The ownership of books is a very personable thing, and the act of reading the story they hold is a very personal experience. Holding onto that book, and placing it back on your shelf, or in your pile of clutter, when you have finished it is something like a photograph of that memory. Can we experience the same thing with the Kindle? Or am I just being too sentimental?

Thoughts?

The Naked Truth

Jennifer Hawkins, Australia's own Miss Universe, is promoting a healthy body image by posing nude for the front cover of Marie Claire magazine. Apparently this is an admirable and brave move on Hawkins' part because the photo will appear on the cover untouched and exposes all her flaws.

Some of you may have seen the image on the news, and if you haven't you can go look for it yourself because I'm not putting it up on here. This is stupid.

Apparently, the flaws that we are meant to be in awe of is a tiny crease on her waist, a few dimples on ONE thigh, and naturally uneven skin tone.

Clap clap. How brave.

When you first look at the picture you think: "What fucking flaw!" She's perfect.

And good on her. She's hot and has the confidence to pose nude. If I were her, I'd walk around in my birthday suit every chance I got. She's got every right to be proud of her body and be confident in it, that's all fine. But don't sell me this bullshit that she's some sort of pin up girl for healthy body image because, I'm sorry sisters, she's no representative of mine, and you can kiss my dimpled arse if you think you can convince me otherwise.

You want to promote healthy body image, put real women on your front cover. I want to see a healthy, vibrant, happy size 14/16 woman who takes care of herself both inside and out, and accepts every single inch of herself regardless of proportion. Put a woman on there who dresses for her size, her shape, and mostly, for her own sense of taste and style, and not for Marie Claire advertisers and sponsors.

What? What is that? You won't?

Oh that's right. Because when it comes down to it, it's all about pleasing the advertisers and producing a cover that sells. And we all know that next month, after this whole "lets promote healthy body image" phase is all over and done with, things will be back to normal. The airbrushed photos will be back, and the topics of discussion will be dicks and shoes.

Marie Claire. Fuck You.

Ladies, if you want to feel better about yourselves, go and stand naked in front of your full length mirror, look yourself up and down, and if you don't like what you see, then say "Marie Claire. Fuck You" till you do.

Your beauty and the way you feel about yourself is your responsibility, nobody but you can make you feel differently about it. Start putting yourself in a brighter light because these magazines, and Jennifer Hawkins isn't going to do it for you. I guarantee you, you will be the last thing they think of when they get their cheque in the mail for the production of this issue.

I fail to see how the cause of a distored body image can see themselve as a solution.

Horse shit. Complete and utter horse shit.

Typing Sideways

HAPPY MOTHER FUCKEN NEW YEAR.

I don't know about you, but the second the clock turned midnight I felt relief. 2009 was good but weird. The third bottle of champagne is open. The last bottle was from Ukraine, and it was nice.

I need to try the one that's open now. I hear the word chocolate being thrown about.

I don't know about you but I'm glad I'm inside.

Holy Mother of God, I still have a glass of red wine. I'm saving that for Dylan Moran. One or two? Who can tell these days?

All I know is that everything is going to be ok.

YOu know it, I know it, it's going to be ok. Stick with me, and trust it. It's just alllllll going to be fine.

Chocolate, there's that word again.

Ruffels and pink clouds.

I must go.

But I'll see you soon.

Chow Chow.

Good dog.

Love Monty Python.

Peace.