Monday, 27 July 2009

Socks, Shoes and The Swine

Well it seemed like last week was my time for the Swine. I spent the majority of Tuesday to Friday feeling rubbish and looking like Waynetta Slob in one of her more “I just can’t be bothered” moods. I didn’t devote any of this time to my Marie Claire perfect cause, I was, to be fair begrudged to put on underwear and brush my teeth – let alone give myself a pedicure.

This has resulted in a few things for the July list.

I missed my lunch time manicure
I missed my laser treatment (but the laser had broken so I needed to reschedule anyway)
I did no exercise
I couldn’t eat 5 times a day, because I felt sick (but for the first time this month lost weight).

I’m not sure how I’m going to make this up in the last week, but I’ll try my best!

I figured today I needed to do something drastic, something significant off the list. So I went for it, I walked out of the house this morning in socks and shoes. I faced the fear of looking like I’d escaped from somewhere, and toddled off to work cringing at anyone actually noticing. I figured that my workmates would just put it down to my brain still being addled from the Swine last week, so if any day was a good day, it was my return to work.

As we left, Lodger said It looked good. But Lodger is a lovely soul who, knowing that I would be walking out in the socks and shoes no matter how it looked, wouldn’t say anything that would knock my confidence.

When I got into work, the control group of this little experiment (as in they don’t know about it) passed a few comments of how nice I looked today too. I think one person even went as far to say glamorous! I was so overjoyed at this, that if anyone hadn’t yet noticed and commented on my socks and shoes combo *Cough my boss cough*, I launched my foot on to the desk as they passed shrieking “Check the sock and shoe combo!” to a bemused half smile from the unsuspecting victim.

However, My joy was quickly chewed up, swallowed and regurgitated, when I noticed at 11am, that I’d been so obsessed with the socks and shoes part of my outfit, I had completely managed not to notice I had MY BLOODY DRESS ON BACKWARDS!! Useless.
I thought when I looked in the mirror this morning, that I didn’t notice the back of the dress scooping down so much when I bought it. This, my friends, is because it DOESN’T and I am an idiot. I managed to shuffle it round at my desk, but the burn in my cheeks lasted for the rest of the day. I quickly ceased drawing attention to my outfit and got my head down. Serves me right for thinking I’d got it sooo right daaarrrliiings!

I finished Cold Comfort farm while I was ill too. I’ll give Marie Claire props for that one. It’s a good book and I’m glad I read it. I wouldn’t describe it as the “Funniest book ever written” as per the accolade on the back. But it was very amusing and made me want to ad “What What!” in a posh early 20th century accent at the end of each sentence for about a week after I read it. Luckily this has disappeared just as I’ve been introduced back into humanity.

As I write, I’m listening to Amazing Baby which got 5 stars on Marie Claire’s What’s Hot And What’s Not play list. Apparently “Guitarist Simon and singer Will make an epic glam-rocking racket that will have you vibrating with joy.”

Wait a minute



Not even a shiver.

“Epic” is a word that needs saving for bands like Muse, or Queen. Singers that sacrifice their own vocal chords for the greater good of our ears. Bands who go for it so much they look like their eyeballs may pop out and roll off the edge of the stage. Bands, where the members sweat more than the whole crowd put together, bands like the Prodigy where the whole room literally rumbles with base and your head fills with sounds that make your brain swell it’s that immense. Bands, that when you hear the opening chord of a tune, a lump of solid excitement is catapulted into your throat and you are smack bang right there in your happy place - even if some 20 stone guy has decided to crowd surf in your direction and kick you in the forehead with his size 13 DR Martins.

This album – is not “epic”. It’s a little psychedelic, they have been compared to MGMT who are a brilliant to Amazing Baby’s average. It doesn’t offend me like Chairlift did , but it doesn’t do anything for me either. Maybe if Marie Claire had given it 3 stars and simply said “It’s all right” I wouldn’t be so confused. But then as Scouse will tell you, I’m really unforgiving of bands I don’t like. In fact, I think all bands should sound like the Prodigy or Muse. Or if I’m very pissed or very hung over – Queen.