Stacey and the Ocelot

What’s wrong with Betty?

Among my acquaintance are two who take their kit off for money. The first is a straight girl I went to high school with; after some initial success as a grid-girl, she now appears in Zoo magazine. The second is a bi girl who I met in Baltimore; she moved up from burlesque to actual stripping while exploring her own sexual liberation. Although many would say that the second is the more licentious of the two, I find myself trying to draw distinctions in the opposite direction because, for some reason, I find the actions of the first far more distasteful. The question is why?

Possibly, it has a lot to do with my assumptions about their clientele. I expect both to be pleasing an audience made entirely of men who enjoy, but don’t respect their performance; it’s easier to imagine that the second girl, who currently has a girlfriend, is dancing for her own enjoyment, careless of her client’s opinions. I can’t help but think that the first girl is modelling to attract male attention, and impress people who will never see her as more than an object. Apparently it’s all about which direction you’re facing.

A Freebie

Lately I’ve been a little preoccupied with gender equality. It’s something I think about a bit, and it annoys me that most of the discussion is about the ways men ruin things for women. Today I’m going to sway the balance just a little by telling you all what, in my opinion, is the stupidest way in which women are sexist towards men:

We will only let you have two emotions. You are either madly in love with us, or you are cold-heartedly manipulating us. You might think there’s some middle ground; maybe it’s possible to think a girl is nice, pretty, and fun to flirt with, but not really someone you would want to date per se.

You are wrong.

On Foresight

Walking in on my friends and I doing each other’s hair in increasingly avant garde styles for the high school disco, my mother declared:

“Stacey why don’t you try something new and different, like a bun?”

Hearing her describe perhaps the most boring and dowdy of hairstyles in such a way was so hilarious, that it’s since become something of a catch phrase with those of us who were there. However, the hairstyles we eventually chose were atrocious - even for the times - and seeing what’s in fashion these days, I can’t help wondering if my mother was just 9 years ahead of the curve.

Simile #15

“Earthquake in your pajamas, huddled in doorways while your houses sway. Blue blood, pumping like a hunter’s fist.”

Cold War Kids, Relief. This one is a little like simile#7, in the way that it doesn’t really make any sense (how does a hunter’s fist pump exactly?), but is still incredibly evocative. The rest of the lyrics in this song are great as well - it manages to be very obviously about God (and man’s realtionship to), without ever once having to smack you in the face by mentioning it.

A Community Service Announcement

A recent link doing the rounds lead me to a website explaining 10 common things that we’re all doing wrong. Surprisingly most of the 10 were such highly skilled tasks as breathing, sleeping and defecating. Although it was mildly interesting to know how I was failing at such basic bodily functions, the information seemed a bit redundant. I mean, maybe 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep is less natural than having two shorter sleeps with a brief wakeful period at about 3am. But if I manage to punch out 10 straight hours of quality shut eye, I’m not going to give myself a talking to in the morning for failing to rest properly. And maybe it’s great to know that I inflate my lungs by moving my diaphragm, and not by lifting my shoulders, but this ‘shallow’ breathing has managed to keep me from asphyxiating for 25 years.

Reading this kind of information is a bit like being told that agnostic should be pronounced a-nostic because it’s the antonym of gnostic, and that saying ag-nostic is the grammatical equivalent of pronouncing atheist as at-heist. Although it may be technically true, it’s not going to change the way anyone does things.

So I’ve come up with my own list of common things we’re all doing wrong. It’s a short list - so short infect that it’s only got one thing on it - but I think it may actually change something worthwhile. Here it is:

There is a right way and a wrong way to put the toilet roll on the holder. One way, the loose end hangs down right next to, and almost touching, the wall. THIS IS THE WRONG WAY. PLEASE STOP PUTTING THE TOILET ROLL ON THIS WAY. If you have installed your toilet roll correctly, the loose end will hang away from the wall - in fact, a whole toilet roll’s width from the wall. This configuration allows you to make the pretty arrow fold with the loose end, as they do in swanky hotels, although this is not mandatory. please make sure you always install your toilet rolls this way from now on.

On Accessorising

A few mornings ago, my mother and I were discussing the merits of scarves as an aid to dressing more modestly.

“I’m not convinced,” she mused. “I still think they’re too titillating.”

Sniggering at the idea of scarves as risque apparel, I suddenly remembered the first time I saw chairlift play live. At the time, I was among those philistines who only knew one of their songs - Bruises - and that only from the iPod commercial. Accordingly, I was expecting some kind of Julia Stone copy to walk out onto the stage. I certainly was not expecting Caroline Polachek.

She emerged wearing only three items of clothing: a pair of highly reflective aviators, some black basketball shorts, and a black piece of material that could best be described as a scarf. The scarf was wide, wrapped loosely about her neck, and draped so that it covered most of her chest - indeed it took me a moment or two to realise it wasn’t some kind of halter top. She took up her position behind a synthesiser, and as she moved to adjust her mic stand, the scarf swung dangerously, revealing that underneath it she wore only two strips of neon pink electrical tape, one covering each nipple. I remember wondering just how vigorously she intended to move during the set, as she finished adjusting her equipment and began to speak:

“The rest of the band are busy back-stage. I dunno what they’re doing. Do you mind if I start without them?”

Needless to say, as the crowed cheered their assent, every man in the vicinity suddenly felt the need to move a lot closer to the stage.

Simile #14

“So they carried on like long division.”

Death Cab, Long Division. It took me a little while to decide if I liked this one - it’s a little twee. It does have that element of plodding along to the bitter end though, and that weary feeling of ‘how many significant figures do we really need?’. Kinda works for a stale relationship where both parties are staying just for the sake of it.

On Reflection

When I was in high school, our slightly gung-ho phys ed teacher took us kayaking to a waterfall. To our surprise he pointed to the 15m high cliff beside it and challenged us to climb up and jump off it into the water below. Most of the class made the ascent, and most climbed back the same way they had come. I was one of the few who made the leap, and the pride I felt at being the only girl among those  who were gutsy enough more than made up for the pain of a bruised tailbone and a severe winding.

When I was in college, some friends and I started a band. We weren’t very good, but entered the local battle of the bands anyway. We told ourselves repeatedly that although we might not be the most talented, two of our members were girls; in a male dominated competition, surely that would count for something. I still clearly remember our dismay as we arrived at sound check and noticed one of the other bands had a girl on keys. One other girl in the whole competition, and we were shattered. Our edge was gone.

A few weeks ago I ended up in a conversation with my boss about gender equality in the workplace.
“The thing that’s stopping women from advancing in their careers,” he announced, “is women themselves.”
Ignoring my look of gut-shrivelling contempt he continued:
“Everyone thinks that having equal numbers of men and women on an interview panel will even out any gender biases, but in my experience it’s not the men on the panel who end up being harshest to female applicants. It’s the women.”

Simile #13

“He’s as sick as a horse”

I can’t give this one a particular reference, although I can tell you Georgette Heyer abuses it shamelessly. I loved it the first time I read it, and I guess it’s a reminder that fresh similes always beat cliched ones. I grew up with the expression ‘sick as a dog’, and heard it so often, it lost all meaning before I even stopped to think what that meaning might be. I never once got a mental image of a sick dog. But a horse? Love it.

And the strange thing is, I think of a horse that is fed up, or sick with envy, rather than actually ill.

On expectations

Every year I look forward to new year’s. More than Christmas, more than birthdays, more than even time off work. I generally start getting excited and feeling the build up in early August.

In the true spirit of Western cliches, I could provide a lengthy description of how this slow buildup always ends in fizzling disappointment. I could probably throw in something witty about our patriarchal society and the collective ability of men to perform sexually.

But I’m not going to. Truth is, I never got this excited for December 31 until I first went to the Falls Festival. And over the years - as I’ve started going to the bands I most want to see, rather than spending too much time at the campsite; as I’ve started drinking less and dancing more; as I’ve started leaving my phone at home - this festival has just got better and better. As this post goes up that’s where I’ll be, celebrating the end of a hectic 2011 by singing and dancing until it hurts.

Happy new year everyone.