BAD GIRLS

January exam period is well and truly underway now. So of course I’m going out more than ever. I am currently sat, hung over, in my room with Lucy after a day, attempting to revise. Writing this entry is an admission of my failure. In an endeavour to appear studious I have created the ideal working environment. Anything from the level of desk clutter to the lighting of my room creates the potential for ten to fifteen minutes of procrastination. I even created a work play list which is brilliant. Think: Mills Brothers, Pink Floyd, Eddie Vedder, Elbow, Moby, Rolling Stones and you will get the idea.

After a good hour or so of Feng Shui-ing my room I sat down and looked through the reading list for my Media Panics module. This was followed by a long look on You Tube for relevant revision material with numerous detours to look at Blackalisious and dub step videos.

When I actually managed to get down to work I was left enraged by some of the feminist literature I encountered. I really don’t want to appear sexist but… ( and I appreciate that usually a statement like this is almost always used as a qualification for saying something outrageous like I’m not a racist but, or I’m not a sex criminal but) I find it difficult to deal with the endless reams of man hate that my course forces me to read. What do these academics want from me? According to most anthropology and sociology as a man I am the cause of all women’s suffering in the world. The whole thing had me contemplating an amature sex change. Now I’ve done my share of shitty things to women in the past, but I’ve also done some pretty bad stuff to men. In my view that’s equality; apparently not. Actually, (according to Men’s Work, Woman’s Work) equality will only be achieved when men are wiped out and women recreate artificially.

At the moment I spend my days being told what a bastard I am by women in books and my nights being told what a wanker I am by women in clubs. It doesn’t really seem fair. If men have it so much better I’d like to find out how, so I can make the most of it.

Days in the same pants: 2 ½

Days in the same shirt: 3

Days in the same jeans: Unknown

Moistest WOMAN of the moment: Paula Radcliff