After following just one piece of "de-stress your life" advice from the fifth anniversary issue of Glamour mag, I had one of those terrible mornings where people keep phoning up to shout at you just when you've stuffed another handful of M&S fruit 'n' nut selection into your ravening maw, denying you the opportunity to respond with a brilliantly argued Kevin-Costner-in-JFK-style courtroom defence.
This got me to thinking: what on earth would happen if I were to follow *every* piece of advice that the fifth anniversary issue of Glamour mag has to offer? Surely it can be no coincidence that my horoscope, as foreseen by this august organ, predicts that something Incredibly Bad will happen to me around about mid-April?
But I'm an adventuress*, a risk-taker. I've white-water rafted on the mighty river Zambezi. I've battled swarms of killer flies in the Venezuelan jungle. I've swum in the North Sea on New Year's Day. I've climbed Britain's highest mountain wearing nothing but a swimsuit and some hiking boots. I've sung to David Bowie. I'm *hard*.
Well, actually, I'm a terrible coward and I cried all the way through most of those things, but still. Glamour holds no fear for me, oh no.
So tomorrow I am going to follow every single piece of advice offered by the fifth anniversary issue of Glamour, and see where it gets me.
Expect thrilling hourly updates on my progress as I:
1. Stick to the facts when criticising colleagues
2. Use props to demonstrate my point
3. Take up a sexy new hobby like pole-dancing
4. Do something drastic with my hair
5. Push my boundaries and ask whether I'm happy being a "passenger"
6. Strategically hang a mirror to reflect my bed
7. Eat a few almonds
8. Ask myself if I need it, and if I don't, walk away
9. Try not to fake a talent I don't have
10. Keep my bathroom habits private**
Don't go away now!
* Scroob has pointed out that this means "I like men with lots of money", rather than "I like doing dangerous things in exotic places". Er, clearly I was just trying to reclaim some patriarchally-inflected language for the sisterhood. Ahem. NB: Wouldn't it be more correct to say "adventureress"? Not sure.
** Bit of a Catch-22, that one.
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15 comments:
Re no 3 on your list - I think that might be a tad adventurous. Why not ease your way up to that with some salsa first?
Good suggestion, Smat, but I was thinking of saving the salsa for no. 4.
I thought the hair one had already happened.
It's occurred to me that numbers 3 and 9 may conveniently cancel each other out, and that 8 is a handy get-out for most of the rest of them. But I really am planning to eat a few almonds later, and I await the ensuing dramatic life improvements with mounting excitement.
Glad to be of service, as it were. On the last FM thing, I don't know exactly. I just rummaged among the downloads until I found something that wasn't too pink and too massive. I bet you're impressed with my selection, hey!
That reminds me, I've not heard Neil for a day or two....nor Dave Mason... s'later.
2 - Use props to demonstrate my point
I'm particularly looking forward to this one.
Take it from me, you do NOT want to do number 6.
Also, have you ever noticed that "adventuress" is usually used to mean "golddigger"? See, that's what those feminist academics are on about, right there. We need a new language to Defeat the Patriarchy.
Ah, see you had a rummage. And I meant Gilmour, not Mason. Oh come on, stop doing that thing with your fingers and you can just stop making those gagging noises, young lady.
Is it just me or is Beep making absolutely no sense at all?
Brilliant post
*Wyndham is ashamed that he has too much of a hangover to contribute much more*
Actually the dictionary (Collins Concise, at any rate) is on your side with "adventuress". I was just musing on common usage. Not trying to be rude. Really.
This reminds me -
*wyndham has had a couple of aspirin*
- of reading The Dice Man when I was a teenager. The Dice Man is one of those books only teenagers read. And, of course, it is required that you live your life by the roll of a dice for at least - oh, minutes.
I was going to do an update, but so far from that list, I've only eaten almonds. I eat almonds every bloody day. I don't need Glamour mag to tell me to eat almonds. I need Glamour mag to tell me NOT to eat almonds.
Well, if you really feel the need to do something, you could come over here and try out some pole-dancing. Or criticise your colleagues. Or cut your hair.
Anything really. I'm so boooored with being ill. I'll try not to cough, or moan theatrically.
Rule number 1 explains why P felt the need to call me a "fucking supid shit for brains wanker" at several points throughout the day.
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