Saturday, 25 April 2009

Women, Interviews & Protests.

Will this sinking feel of being a female ever subside? Knowing that it's scientifically impossible to wake up having gained four stone since the moment your head touched the pillow, why do we continue to wholeheartedly believe that it happens to us? Pre-Aunt Irma. During Aunt Irma. And Post-Aunt Irma. No wonder men think we're nutcases. (Well, my man in particular.)

Read John Gray's Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus and you'll get a step-by-step instruction guide into the psyche of the opposite sex. Which is how I know that when I wake up and complain I look fat, too squishy and all-out gross, my man thinks I'm looking for a solution. Gray's theory is that when women voice their problems, they just want someone to listen. Maybe a little sympathy and comfort. Men only voice their problems when they can't fix them on their own and need help and solutions from others. Put the two sexes together and you get an average relationship: frustration over miscommunication.

Yeah, so it isn't any wonder why I manage to catch that hurt look upon my man's face when I "don't believe" him when he tries to assure me I'm "beautiful and curvaceous" and he loves me the way I am. Technically, his man brain is telling me I'm ignoring his excellent solution/advice to the problem.

But what the hell do men know about our stupid hormones tricking our brains into thinking we've managed to grow four bowls of jelly on each hip? :P

This has probably got a lot to do with my nerves about this evening - an evening with the in-laws. Always a nerve-racker. You'd think after two years I'd be used to it by now. But I'm always afraid that somewhere along the line I'm going to say or do something so infallibly wrong that they'll jump up, demand I never lay eyes on their only son again, and throw me out.

Too much pessimism in the post?

Had my first interview in months last night (9.30pm) for a cocktail bar. Somehow I think I managed to fail that. The guy wasn't impressed that I didn't have any bar experience and when I tried to ease the tension by cracking a joke, he totally wasn't feeling it. Definitely doesn't have my weird sense of humour. Quite intimidating kind of guy, actually. Slicked hair, expensive flashy suit. Kept mentioning he was the only 22-year-old in Cardiff who works 70 hours a week. (My mind: Thanks, butt. Lovely thing to say to someone unemployed.) Got the feeling he's a young guy who's found success at a very young age and has an all-around natural smugness that would be impossible to kick. We'll see what happens anyway.

Finishing this blog off by mentioning that there's a protest going on in Cardiff on the 1st May and if there's anyone out there with an ounce of soul, they should come to it. Protesting the backlash that comes with any other protest - the police finally show their true colours and start viciously attacking innocents trying to stand up for human rights. Always knew the police was fascist cunts - Hunter S. Thompson taught me that. (Read Kingdom of Fear).

Posting the link for all of zero people who read this: