Sunday, July 13, 2008

Hating with Honesty Part II

An aspect of our culture that really busts my blisters is when we all think we have to like something just because everybody else seems to like it. I've developed a list of things I personally can't stand (aka known as the original 'Hating with Honesty' post) despite the rest of the world seemingly loving them to bits, and feel that it's time to add a second column.

Fashion. Speaking from the wisdom of being two decades older than the female market that most of the ridiculous styles of clothing is aimed at, I can also say that I'm relieved that I no longer feel the pressure to be 'in' or have the interest to be 'in'. Even today, on our way home after Yum Cha in the city, we popped into 'Trims' on Pulteney Street. The store is an Adelaide institution and you could always find a $15 pair of Levis next to some blundstone boots from the 1960s hidden behind the later models of thermal underwear.

Not any more. Levis are $149 *after* applying the 30% discount displayed all over the store and are in miniscule sizes or the unfortunate styles of 'low rise flares' or 'ultra skinny leg'. Not to mention witnessing the evil greediness of seeing decades-old converse sneakers priced at $89 -Trims, how could you?

Dr Who. Sorry Brit-nerds, I just don't get why this show has endured for so long. Lots of children were terrorised by the scary masks of various bad guys or the daleks but even at the age of seven, when Jon Pertwee was busy running around in his velour dinner jacket and frilled shirt, I could see the dodgy special effects and pathetic sets and felt contempt more than fright. Wobbly sets, ill-fitting rubber suits and monsters made of spray-painted loo plungers and egg cartons make it too hard to get into whatever ridiculous space-age, inter-dimensional delusion we were supposed to be involving ourselves in.

The latest doctor is the insane snake-like son from one of the Harry Potter movies and appears to be playing the role on intravenous doses of Red Bull and espresso. Any credulity is snapped further than a worn out bungee cord when a facelifted Kylie Minogue appears as the guest girlie and kisses him - could her forehead be stretched any tighter? Her eyebrows are in danger of meeting up at the back of her neck.

French manicured finger nails
















These obviously fake, square nails with the white bits painted on are usually worn by chicky babes a bit on the chubbo end of the spectrum. As with their tiger-striped hair highlights or lined lips, they seem to think that having tombstones on the ends of their fingers will detract attention away from the size of their arses.

Perhaps they're right, but they still look hideous. They also tell the onlooker that their owner does sweet FA work with her hands - those babies ain't fit for gardening, washing, chopping veges, scrubbing floors, painting or scrubbing pots and pans. Maybe that's why their arses are so large. Do the French really have nails like these? If so, I thought that French women never got fat?

Shuttered houses











These external roll-a-blinds seem to be favoured by home owners who want security and already own properties that lean towards the ugly side. Protection and privacy from what I'm not completely sure - sunshine and views, maybe? Let's face it - if a burglar wants to break in and steal your stuff, he (or she) will be able enter your home by more ways than just the windows. Plus, having them shuttered means that they'll be able to rifle through your belongings at their leisure without being noticed by passersby.

The place I've photographed here is in my neighbourhood and seems to be permanently closed to the world outside, resembling a face without any eyes. Not having the windows visible removes all traces of the house's character (what little it does have). Ugly, pointless and inadvertently dangerous. Not unlike Barry Hall.

Clearasil - it annoys the living crap out of me that, at age 39 and a half, I've recently had to buy a tube of the skin-coloured stuff to combat the colony of dots that have appeared on my neck. Unfortunately, it still pongs as badly as it did in 1983 and lingers long after the t-shirt or pillow has been washed.

When our daughter Sapphire reaches the puberty/zit infestation/interest-in-having-sex stage of her young life, I'll be encouraging her to slather her face in this gunk under the pretense of having pimple-free skin - the stench will hopefully keep any potential de-flowerers at bay. Along with Love Chunks' headlock-of-death and 24/7 chaperoning system of course.

Batman movies. Sling these into the reject bin next to the Dr Who episodes. Why the movies are made to be so dark and serious when he's a comic book character wearing a tight suit with a face-obscuring black balaklava/mask ensemble based on a BAT is beyond me. How the hell did he manage to sew that on his granny's singer hidden at the back of the bat cave?

I find these oh-so-dark films unintentionally hilarious - Michael Keaton's camp pout had me sniggering and at one stage I wanted to know just why Gotham City didn't seem to know of the existence of fluoro tubes or decent over-head lighting (same with the couple in X-files: why use a torch to investigate a crime or UFO-scene when you can flick a switch, or better still, wait until daylight?)

Claire Hooper



















I'll say it first - she's way younger and a damn sight prettier than I was, or ever will be. However her 'humour', especially when I was first 'introduced' to it by Paul McDermott on ABC's 'The Sideshow' was obviously so subtle and subliminal that I didn't even notice that its presence (is she his niece?). Granted, she's improved a wee bit on 'Good News Week' but somehow she seems to think that she's cute and this will therefore add 99% more hilarity to her act. Not for me it doesn't. It just makes me want to smack her smug horsey face and send her to Woolies to be their cheerful, free ranging 'price check' girl.

That Ryan Shelton guy from Rove


This tool should marry Claire so that he can be the bloke who sprays the lettuces in the fruit-and-vege section. I'm sure he's a perfectly nice chap to have a coffee with, or to collect up all the stray shopping trolleys and put them back in the special parking bays nearer to the shop's entrance.

Like young Claire, he obviously thinks he's funny, but surrounding himself with Rove and Hamish shows him up to be about as amusing as a dead kitten at a christening.

His little 'how to' segments on the show are painfully, get-a-brazilian-wax-in-slo-mo weak. Piss weak. If he's the future of funnydom in Australia, then let's bring in some of those hilarious Belgians, Uzsbechishtanis and Norwegians instead.

Justin Timberlake



















All I want to say to Mr Timberlake is, "No, you're NOT bringing sexy back. Quite the opposite in fact."

Sexy is NOT a high-pitched, pasty-faced Michael-Jackson wannabe wearing a vest with blue jeans. If it was, the world's librarians would all be dating supermodels and promoting their own line of cardigans and pocket pen holders.

Frickin' FM radio stations - there are two reasons:

1) Deciding to stick with 'classic' songs but selecting only twenty of them to play ad-infinitem for the next two decades. There's only so much Barnesy, Farnesy, Rolling Stones, Bon Jovi, Guns-n-Roses, John Mellencamp and Cold Chisel one can endure, and that was back in 1989. Nor, when they advertise a 'back to the eighties lunchtime mix' do I want to hear the same "ten songs that'll take you back". I swear that SAFM play 'Don't you forget about me,' 'Always something there to remind me,' 'What I like about you' and 'Let's Dance' as often as anything on the mushroom record label dating from 1980 to 1987.

2) Not bothering to tell us the name of the song or the artist/band who made it. We seem to get our 'fifty minutes of music without ads' peppered with the DJ reminding us that we're getting our 'fifty minutes of music without ads' between each and every song, but if a song pops up that sounds good - a rarity for me these days - I'd like to know what it was. But that's information they'd be giving away for free, isn't it? They want to me SMS them for the song info or visit their website in order to be bombarded with more advertising whilst searching for the playlist. What they've forgotten is that, unlike the 15 year olds who can watch 'Rage' on Friday night and Saturday morning without having to turn it off before their nine year old daughter sees it and learns that being famous means wearing a string-bikini and writhing suggestively over a gansta rapper - we have more disposable income and are likely to buy an album rather than a song download.

Actually, I have a third reason - 3) employing semi-retarded, no-talent, ex-reality tv 'stars' as zany breakfast show hosts. Why bother with wit, talent and the ability to think quickly on your feet if you can have someone who snogged a transvestite in the pool at the Big Brother compound or who was once the eyebrow plucker to a Hollywood star?

Whew. I think I'll go and have a GnT and a lie down now......

21 comments:

Deep Kick Girl said...

I'm SOOO with you on the Justin Timberlake issue. If he's bringing sexy back than I say "I didn't know it had gone away and if so please leave it outside".

He is to sexy what Amy Winehouse is to clean living.

Naomi said...

soo with you on many of those things but especially Claire Hooper - surely she has to be related to Paul because I have watched the sideshows and good news week and well she doesn't cut it for mine - I don't see the humour.

Re the nails - always wondered not only how they garden, cook, clean etc, but how do they address the finer points of bodily functions with them things???

franzy said...

Showing your age here! Rest ye not on thy laurels!

Complaining about how current fashions just aren't as good as they used to be? Trims had to upgrade because it was too daggy for words and the young folk were turning away in droves to op shops where the retro threads were cooler and cheaper.

You don't get Dr Who? It used to scare the shit out of me as a kid, not because of the special effects, but because of the stories. The High-rise of death? The intergalactic circus that killed everybody? At 4:30 in the afternoon? AAAAAAAHH!
I don't watch it any more because it's, well, it's for kids ...

French nails?
Paying anyone to do anything to your nails? I'm with you on this one - only wombat with yeast-infections get the french polish.

Shuttered houses? Poor old dears, I say. Imagine being that into Today Tonight that this is how far you felt you had to go resist granny-rape. Either that or they're just drug-dealers. I'd stay wellthefkaway.

Clearasil? Doesn't work never did. Like expecting third base in exchange for flowers.

Batman? What the fuck have you got against Batman? If you want a comic book to win the pulitzer prize, you're going to be waiting just a little longer for a fifty-year-old in a cape to take it away.

Clare Hooper?
Clare Whooper?

Ryuan Shelton? You're expecting cutting edge comedy from a comedian on Rove? Cut yourself free of boy wonder and get thee to Bill Hicks. Or vintage Eddie Murphy. Or anyone really. George Carlin would be right up your alley.

Justin Timberlake isn't bringing sexy back, he's just giving every blogger, comedian, comic artist, radio host and two-pint bastard the chance to make well thought-out remarks about sexiness being a transportable commodity. The man can sing, dance and rakes in the cash for being able to do both. He doesn't NEED sexy. He has it already. He gets laid nine times on the way to the golden dunny in the morning. I think he's doing a better job of being Michael Jackson than Michael Jackson is doing these days. Think about it: single, small, white, wealthy and no way you'd let your daughter near him ...
But REALLY Kath! Hatin' on teen pop star? For shame. You have bigger fish to fry ...

FM radio stations? Well, yes, they are draining the life blood from our spiritual and intellectual selves. No dispute.

I'm sorry to give you a hard time about this, but I think you're an excellent blogger and deserve better. The EXTREMELY unfortunate thing about this entire post is that it's pretty much the same material as the Peter Hellier gig I saw last year, who I notice we share a mutual distaste for.

Plug in, babe. Turn up the heat.
Write Hating with Honesty Part III and let's really have what you think.

ps. Sorry about all the telling off, but Audrey's post really me thinking about blogs and comments. I really believe that instead of backslapping each other, we should be pushing each other, just a little bit (or heaps - whatever) to be better bloggers and writers. If we were writing tear-stained, raw-skin tell-alls, then maybe we should go easy on one another, but we are BLOGGERS!!

River said...

Hee-hee. French women don't get fat because with fingernails like that they can't prepare or eat food...
As for the finer points of bodily functions? That's why they invented bidets.

Kath Lockett said...

Challenge accepted, franzy.

However the shuttered house in question is NOT a raped granny or drug dealers. This is the bloke who dumps his hard rubbish out all year long and got that evil message written on his chair a few weeks ago....

Batman - I know it's a comic but I HATE HATE HATE the way the movies take themselves so frickin' seriously.

LOVED George Carlin and love Bill Hicks. No great fan of vintage Eddie Murphy though. VINTAGE Ben Elton, Ed Byrne, Bill Bailey and even the two Ronnies (thanks to Dad) were up my chuckles alley tho.

I know what you mean re Audrey's post, but sometimes.... *Sigh* sometimes I just want to be sedate. Reading brilliant books, blogs, articles and interviews sometimes makes me want to celebrate the ordinary, the suburban the normal. Laughing at the dog's sad expression when I'm patting the rabbit; still not being able to figure out which way to turn the front door key; wondering why it was sensible old me who needed to take antidepressants; and why I nearly p**s myself laughing at such a cheap show as 'Australia's Funniest Home Videos'....

Kath Lockett said...

Oh and Deep Kick Girl and Franzy - showing my age or no, Amy Winehouse is a frickin' shame. Somehow her emaciated, drug-addled little frame is capable of bellowing out the most amazing voice that surely belongs to a black woman from the deep south in the 1930s.

She won't survive the year the way she's going. All the paparazzi attention in the world isn't preventing her from destroying herself. It makes me so sad that such talent is being thrown away.

Roxiticus Desperate Housewives said...

I read somewhere (via BlogExplosion) that Hillary Clinton was bringing sexy back. She and Justin make a helluva team.

Here I am, live and in Memorex on your EntreCard, to bring you good luck and votes in your Sunday morning Battle of the Blogs.

Enjoy your GNT and your lie down.

Roxy

TOM said...

You have made my Sunday morning much brighter!! Dr Who...It's soo stupid and I like Sci, if it's so damn good invest some money into special effects!! FM is AWFUL..Why do theses morning DJ's think we want to listen to them talk about themselves and their petty little lives..Play The Friggin Music and Shut UP

Baino said...

Ialways wanted to be fashionable but never quite had the knack and I remember my mother buying Keyman jeans (with a free comb in the pocket) because Levis were too expensive at $9.99.
French manicures . . .Clare does them but just with polish, not acrylic stubbs. Me . . apart from yesterday . . too much 'handwork' prevents me growing long nails. . good workers mitts are mine forever.
Shuttered houses would never do . . .I'm an open air freak, even in the winter or the burglars can come in and scout around if they like, there's nothing worth taking. Clearasil never worked for me . . get a hysterectomy . . .fantastic for the skin but probably not an appropriate solution for Saphire. Dr who, Rove and that Claire Hooper woman are not shows I watch I'm afraid. I don't hate them, they just have nothing to offer. Batman? Hush your mouth woman. Don't tell me Christian Bale isn't hot! Although they could put a light switch on now and again. And I'm subjected to FM hits from the 70's, 80's and 90's on a daily basis as my preferred station is a little 'language' ridden for the workplace. High rotation Milly Cyrus is making my ears bleed!

Musicguy said...

couldn't disagree more with you regarding Dr. who and timberlake. maybe it's an age thing.

Anonymous said...

" If you want a comic book to win the pulitzer prize, you're going to be waiting just a little longer for a fifty-year-old in a cape to take it away."



Art Spiegelman's "Maus" won a Pulitzer Prize in 1992.


cheers
BS

Kath Lockett said...

From Monique (whom I'll have to convince to join blogger as 'Monz' or some such:

"Lets talk about Hating with Honesty.

I am supposed to be concentrating on the very serious topic of Sex Education in Schools....and here I am yellling 'HURRAH! - Finally someone that thinks Justin Timberlake is actually the ANTITHESIS of sexy".

Oh...and Claire Hooper...for fucks sake....don't get me started.

OH! and have you heard Ryan Sheltons radio show on Nova on weekend mornings? Those audible farts after your karate moves actually sound better and are less embarrasing than that turdbag."

eleanor bloom said...

I don't think the batman movies really take themselves seriously. It's all just entertainment.

Absolutely agree re French nails, or any long nails. Screams that one places vanity over practicality (and hygiene).

And with Dr Who - not that I really watch it, I'm just a channel flicker (saw Kylie's expensive face (maybe those aren't her eyebrows...) ruined by the hideous wig they made her wear)- I believe they stick to the cheap "special" effects in order to be true to the early years of the show. It's a part of its style. Or, most likely, that's their excuse due to a weeny budget.

I'll add that the show also scared me to bits when a kid. "EX-TER-MIN-ATE" sent shivers down my spine and had me running into the kitchen where mum was, staying by her side until I got my courage up to go back into the fray.

gigglewick said...

What do you think of people who have nails which naturally appear to be french-polished?

When I was a kid I used to be deeply embarrassed by the fact that my nail tips are white (I believe the term "freak" was used more than once) and now I find out it's bloody fashionable.

Can I get away with this, or must I now start dying my nail tips a more natural (for everyone else) colour?

Homo J. Sapien said...

Pretty much with you all the way Kath, though I do like a few Batman films and I haven't listened to commercial radio for 15 years, thoug I expect it's gotten worse. Melbourne is blesed with good public radio RRR and PBS.

River said...

Hey, gigglewick, my nail tips are naturally white too. I thought I was the only one. They don't grow long though, breaking off almost on a daily basis.

franzy said...

Oh Kath - comment! Comment away! Please please please!!

I probably went a bit crazy with the "constructive" criticism, but eh, I like your replies to it as well - dialogue = YAY!

In the mean time
passiveaggressivenotes.com

GO. THERE.
And while you're at it, why don't you post your chair note?

Ariel said...

I'm 100% with you on:

Justin Timberlake (yuk)
French manicures - and squared fake nails in general (ugly & tacky)
Claire Hooper - bring back Julie McCrossin!!! (or maybe Julia Zemiro?)
Ryan Shelton - but go Hamish & Andy (especially Hamish ... sighhh)

Ariel said...

Oh, and Gigglewick & River, it's not the colour I loathe (mine are white-tipped too), it's the fake thing. Fake nails always look fake.

And Eleanor, what about people who have long nails because they grow like that and they're too lazy to regularly cut them ... ?

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