The tales of Jessica the sociopath and Elizabeth the doormat with a martyr complex

If I hadn't read most of these Sweet Valley books as a child teenager I would not believe they existed. Also, if you ever read those books and somehow haven't read Shannon's awesome Sweet Valley High blog, in which she recaps the series as a young-fan-turned-adult you... need to get on that right now. It's a freaking delight.

This will be our year

I'm already married and really did not want to get married in the first place. So why does this Zombies song make me not only want to get married (uh, again?) but dance to this song at said wedding like a big sloppy dummy?

Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!

I'm sceptical, as I think we all should be, that one's personality can be reduced to a "type". I may have certain characteristics but I don't think I'm set in amber and I'd like to believe that the Kate of 2015 is different to the Kate of 2010, the Kate of 2005 and the Kate of 2025 and that my personality has changed over the years.

That much said I have done the Myer-Briggs personality test and this kinda silly article that tries to come up with a perfect definition of hell for each Myer-Briggs personality type has... well, okay, I think they kind of nailed me:

"You are expected to complete a highly esteemed project with absolutely no guidance as to what’s expected of you."

I realise that's kind of sad.

“Deep down, all the while, she was waiting for something to happen. Like a sailor in distress, she kept casting desperate glances over the solitary waster of her life, seeking some white sail in the distant mists of the horizon. She had no idea by what wind it would reach her, toward what shore it would bear her, or what kind of craft it would be – tiny boat or towering vessel, laden with heartbreaks or filled to the gunwhales with rapture. But every morning when she awoke she hoped that today would be the day; she listened for every sound, gave sudden starts, was surprised when nothing happened; and then, sadder with each succeeding sunset, she longed for tomorrow.” 

(Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary)

Basic bitch

I really hope. That this is true. Because: heh. If Kate Moss ever called me a basic bitch I would die.

If Chicago...

... is the "City of the Big Shoulders" (I love that line), what is Perth?

Small worlds?

Sweaty pavements?

No merging?

The City of 'where did you go to school?'

If you have an enemy, picture him asleep.
Notice his shoes at the foot of the bed,
how helplessly they gape there.
Some mornings he needs three cups of coffee

to wake up for work,
and there are evenings when he drinks alone,
reading the paper down to the want ads,
the arrival times of ships at the docks.

Think of him choosing a tie,
dialling wrong numbers,
finding holes in his socks. Chances are
his emptiness equals yours

When you thoughtlessly hurry a cashier
for change, or frown to yourself
in rush hour traffic and the drivers behind you

begin to remind you
the light has turned green.

(John Skoyles)

Trainwreck

Well this looks delightful. Between this (hopefully), Mad Max: Fury Road (fucking SWOON) and Spy, it's almost enough to give you hope some people making movies these days actually, you know, like women. Crazy, I know.

New month resolutions

1. I will try to blog more. Had a real regular thing going there for a time.

2. I will keep running.

3. I will stop using social media to creep on people.

4. I will consider eating fewer Caramello Koalas.

5. I will NOT forget the word to Modern Major General, given the bitch it was to learn them.

6. I will be nicer to other people and resist my hermit impulses... at least some of the time.

7. I will not drink Diet Coke more than twice a month even when I'm super hungover and only a "black aspirin" will do.

8. I will be more frugal and really work at clearing some more debt.

9. I will remind myself, at every opportunity, that stressing about something happening does not actually increase or decrease the likelihood that thing will happen.

10. I will convince Andy to join me in a Felicity retrospective.

Preach!

“I don't consider myself a pessimist. I think of a pessimist as someone who is waiting for it to rain. And I feel soaked to the skin.” (Leonard Cohen)

This...

.
.. is kinda fun. I really loved this movie.

"...almost got shagged, cup of tea?"

Via Rainbow Rowell.

Oh.

Oh my.

Via Rainbow Rowell.

Token Smokin' Hottie: Tom Hardy as Mad Max

This is not to be confused with Tom Hardy in real life who is not so much... my jam. No I don't entirely understand how that works either but I think it's something to do with the hair (for the moment), the "method actor" tag and the general vibe I somehow get from bits and pieces of random celeb gossip that he might... I don't know... lean towards douche?

In any case, as Max? He is perfection. That little thumbs up and smile he gives close to the end to signal his approval at something? I DIED THAT DAY.

Carry on

Pretty sure I haven't been this excited about a new book since Harry Potter. Come on, October, you minx.

Due to circumstances...

... beyond my control I now have to listen to music at work or be driven mad. The silver lining is that I am listening to more new(ish) music than ever. Including Sufjan Stevens' bananas good album, which is good enough to make me want to work late. Almost.

Slut

"Slut" is for when, in spite of everything you've learned from Cosmo and your sorority sisters, you just love men, for when you want to look at them and talk about them and burrow your nose into their necks and lick them from head to toe and hop right on them when they walk in the door like that scene from Raising Arizona where Holly Hunter clings to Nicolas Cage like a wood tick. Ugh. That's so undignified. That's so unfeminine. "Slut" is for walking down the street and talking to a friend on your cell phone and watching a cute boy walk past in the opposite direction and looking at him and looking away and looking back and then turning around in mid-sentence to keep looking. "Slut" is for thinking of stubble burn and biting your lip. "Slut" is for remembering the way your first true love used to pin you up against his car door and flushing clear up to the roots of your hair. "Slut" is for big hands and deep voices. "Slut" is for on top of you and under you and behind you, in the closet, on the floor, under the piano. "Slut" is for liking it. "Slut" is for wanting it. "Slut" is for going after it. Men hunt, women gather; men chase, women wait. Look it up, slut.

A terrific reminder from Sars (and from the archives) of why using the word "slut" is super problematic.

Roarrrrrrrrrr

There are many topics The Economist writes about that I know little to nothing about. Take, for instance: the economy. But arguably nothing else I've read in that fine publication made me shout HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS quite like today's blog on Roar, a movie I'd never heard of but which sounds... demented.

"There, over the course of five years, Ms Hedren and Mr Marshall, an executive producer flush from “The Exorcist”, shot “Roar”. They faced the obstacles that might be expected—70 bloody attacks that injured lead actors and crew (Mr Marshall needed treatment for gangrene), and scalped their cinematographer—as well as others that sound like messages from God: floods, wildfires and feline disease."

I don't even... Just read the whole thing here, it's great.

"We have several clients who have archery ranges in their offices."

Know that this comes from a place of love: I enjoy and appreciate glossy magazine with the best of them. For me, Vogue sits in the shade of Harper's on both art design and editorial content but it's still a great magazine.

That much said, these excerpts from a recent issue, presented - as The Hairpin puts it - "without comment" are pretty... telling. My favourite?

My idea of a relaxing getaway is strolling around the Porte de Clignancourt flea market in search of a velvet opera coat.

Of course it is. Or maybe...

For Daniel de la Falaise, food has always been a family affair. His great-grandmother Rhoda watered her rosebushes with lobster bisque.

I mean... OF COURSE SHE DID. You can read the whole thing here.

Things I have learned about running since I stupidly signed up for a 4km race:

1. I am not terrible at running.

2. I do not hate running.

3. The music I like when I am not running is not the music I like when I am running.

4. A $350 pair of sneakers is actually pretty different to a pair of $50 sneakers. For realsies.

5. I run fastest on the gym treadmill when there are nice-looking dudes in the gym. Sad and predictable but true.