American Beauty?

In the process of having dinner i thought to myself that i'd so a spot of reading in the newspaper and i came across this article called 'oh please, you lard butt British frumps have got off too lightly'. interested, i went on to read it, nearly choking on my food in the process because i was laughing so much. This article was a response to an article that Tad Safran an american screenwriter had written previously. H e was explaining the difference between American and British women and how the latter just didn't take care of themselves as much as American women did.
he had refered to in so many words as a chauvanist pig, shallow and other words which i shall not go on to mention but i think this guy has a point and anyone who disputes well that's your choice but there are some truths to his rambling because i have said the exact thing severals in discussion with friends and he put it all in two funny articles. Here are excerpt with links to the original..enjoy!

original article 'American Beauty?'

Having observed females on both sides of the Atlantic, our correspondent claims British women are unkempt and lazy about grooming

Women of Britain: Bridget Jones’s Diary is not a documentary. It’s a work of fiction, a fairytale. The fact is that control-top granny pants are simply not a substitute for regular exercise, thoughtful grooming and a healthy diet. Certainly not if you’re single and interested in men.

I am a massive fan of British women. UK girls, in my opinion, are the greatest natural beauties in the world . . . when they’re 17 or 18 years old. The girls I was surrounded by when I was a teenager were sublime roses with lustrous hair, flawless skin, bright eyes and lithe, athletic bodies. They dressed as if there would be a prize at the end of the night for the girl wearing the least. I then went away to Philadelphia for university. Four years later, I came back and wondered: “What the hell happened to all the beautiful girls I knew?” My first assumption was that one half of them had eaten the other half and washed them down with a crate of lager. These girls looked phenomenal when looking good took no effort. But when British women get to the age where they have to make an effort, they appear unable, or uninterested, in rising to the challenge.

An informal poll of my US female friends revealed that they spend roughly $700 (£350) a month on what they consider standard obligatory beauty maintenance... A perfect example of this was presented to me last week. I was set up with Sophie (I have changed the name) by married friends. Sophie was a truly beautiful girl I used to be friends with, but hadn’t seen in 15 years. I was surprised to hear that she was still single and was excited to meet her again. At dinner, I found myself sitting opposite something that surely would have been happier hunting for truffles in the forests of France or grazing on the grassy marshlands of Canada. My friend’s wife had told me that Sophie still had the body of a 20-year-old. Maybe she did . . . dismembered in her freezer at home. She certainly didn’t have it on her skeleton.

I’m not saying that I’m the greatest prize out there, but at least I’d put on a clean shirt, shaved and brushed my teeth. Sophie tumbled into the house looking like a refugee from Hurricane Katrina. She smelt like the R&D lab at Philip Morris. Her outfit was about as sexy as a half-pound of ground meat. And, surely, the only time she’d seen the inside of a gym was to ask directions to the nearest pub.
It’s not entirely Sophie’s fault, I suppose. My friend’s wife didn’t manage my expectations. Maybe it would have been better if she had said: “Tad, you enjoyed The Lord of the Rings. Would you like to meet an orc?”

Another part of the problem is that women in Britain do not help each other. American women have no qualms about telling their friends, in no uncertain terms, when they look like crap, or have put on weight, or are dressed like a bag-lady.
I’ve been in a room with two English girls when one is preparing for a black-tie ball. She came out in her outfit and asked: “How do I look?” The other girl cocked her head sympathetically and said: “Adorable”. I thought, “Adorable . . . like a hooker.” I understand that she did not want to hurt the other girl’s feelings, but there’s such a thing as constructive criticism.

I don’t want you to think, though, that I believe American women have nothing to learn from British women. The irony is that, as obsessed as American women are with their looks, they totally ignore their social skills. Within 10 minutes of meeting an American woman, I guarantee you will know her salary and most recent medical/ dental procedure. They all but turn up with their CV printed out. In return, they will immediately want to know “all” about you, ie, how much you earn, how much you have earned in the past, what your future earning potential is, whether you own property, whether you have an investment portfolio, where you shop, where you “vacation”, what you drive and how large your parents’ house is. I once got to the end of a date in New York, pulled out my credit card to pay and the girl solemnly remarked: “A green American Express card? I didn’t know they still made them in that colour.”

American women also take themselves too seriously and are annoyingly confronta-tional. The good news for men, by the way, is they are convinced that the best way to prove they are equal to a man is by sleeping with him. Um . . . Go ahead, that’ll teach me...

When I asked if they dabbled in such areas, they just shook their wrinkle-free, tight-as-a-drum, shiny, expressionless faces. It’s not healthy to have one’s cosmetic surgeons on speed dial. (Then again, an English girl I recently and briefly went out with had four drug dealers on her speed dial, which is not especially healthy either.)

British women are, without a doubt, the best to have a pint and a laugh with. They are the most self-reliant, uncomplicated and unflap-pable. That they are neither obsessed with their looks, nor insecurely competitive, are wonderful qualities. And their self-depreca-tion is incredibly endearing. But when it comes to making the all-important first impression, do you really want it to be, “I’ll bet she was really hot ten years ago”?

'oh please, you lard butt British frumps have got off too lightly' - Tad Safran

I ensured this by writing an article last week in The Times, comparing British and American women and asking why British women don’t spend the time, money and effort on their upkeep that American women do. What started out as a light-hearted, anecdotal account of my impressions of dating women on both sides of the Atlantic has exploded into a national furore.

I was utterly unprepared for the avalanche, but I stick to my guns: when British women reach the age where looking good is no longer effortless, they seem unwilling or unable to rise to the challenge. And judging by the vitriol of the response, I realise I’ve not only touched a nerve, I’ve reached into the underbelly of a deep, dark insecurity. Nobody gets that defensive about something they don’t care about.

The point most made by a long, long way is that I’m a prat (or as Marv writes, “as shallow as a one-inch pool of frozen water”): tough one to argue with, so I’ll leave it well alone.

After that, by far the most common point the humourless drones want to make is that they’d rather be frumpy with wonderful personalities than Barbie dolls with nothing between their ears.

This argument is so patently absurd that I can hardly believe it. It is not binary: you can have a personality and an arse that doesn’t take up two seats on the bus. If you can retain your wonderful, cheerful, sweet, fun personality and be beautiful is that not better? Or, Anna L from Kent, is your sweet personality inextricably tied to your being a size 16 ... like Samson’s strength is to his hair?

I don’t suggest that British women take the money from your education fund and put it towards plastic surgery. Nor do I suggest you take the hours per week dedicated to cultural and intellectual pursuits and use them for beauty treatments. Just take the time you dedicate to sitting on the sofa eating femur-sized Toblerones while watching EastEnders. (Thank you, Lizzy from Harrow, for the insight that I “will have boring children” ... probably not, as I don’t intend to have children with you).

And God forbid any woman should be motivated by trying to attract a man. Apparently British women have overcome a billion years of biology.

I also love the large number of people who tell me Keira Knightley, Rachel Weisz...Unfortunately, if you throw a rock in a British city centre, you’re slightly more likely to hit a girl resembling Vicky Pollard than Kate Moss. I’m just pointing it out. Don’t shoot the messenger.
British women don’t have the curves of the Italians, the simmering sexuality of the Spanish, the sophistication of the French or the openness of the Scandinavians.

So what do British women have? Top spot in the European obesity table. Top spot in the European teen pregnancy table. And the only spots (besides Denmark) in the chart showing rising alcohol consumption among women in western Europe.

Well done, Britain. If what women are striving for is the ability to get hammered and fall over in the street, Britain is a feminist paradise from coast to coast.

links: http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/beauty/article3056296.ece

links2: http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/beauty/article3029451.ece

i give a thumbs up to Tad...he makes a good point.

Isn't it Ironic, don't you think?

when we were young...

'i don't want to do that it's so childish'
'those kind of things are for children'

It is very easy to hear these words being spoken by adults and ashamed they should be. Suddenly being 30 and over gives them the right to criticise and belittle things that are deemed only for the young. attitudes, games, cultures and much more.

The truth is they are more like children than they think.

There is no shame in watching finding nemo in a cinema full of the non shaving society or getting down on your knees to play twister. Even the bitchy attitude exhibited by 5 years old is nothing to look down on in disgrace but just a reflection of the basic broken down explanation of our own behaviour.

He is one such man. related through paternity but still he seems eager to deal with us in a way that puts him on a pedalstal. We are still refered to as the children in conversations with other 'adults' even though i am legal to drink in just about every country on the planet (except for those where drinking full stop isn't legal - shame! that won't be on my holiday list), we are still addressed as behaving senselessly or not being old enough to really understand 'adult' situations.


Ignorant words like that shock and insult me to the core but yet what can you say. My tradition dictates that i as a production of my family know nothing and cannot be seen to be incontradiction as the mere status and date of birth deprives me of such priviledge. The truth is i have felt things that not many have endured, i have experience things that the brave would blush over and i have been victim in some situations that they would find it hard to deal with. In the end i am here, alive, emotionally stable, a fight which i survived perhaps on my own but i would say God had a hand in some of it. One cannot claim to know and feel what the young feel simple because they have lived on the planet the longest. One can go through their hole life and yet not experience as much as a small child who perhaps has been through starvation, prostitution, abuse and neglect (NOTE: this is just an example of children out there this christmas). These children cannot be deprived of the right to speak their minds simple because of their age.

The truth is, the adults are no better than the children. Ok so what is childishness, screaming because you don't get what you want, fighting with the other kids at school, recklessly doing this that can cause harm not only to your and others, ignorance? being naiive? ha!

I can tell you this much, we have a bit of that in all of us. The boy grow up to be men, just the toys get bigger, their mothers still fuss over them or if they are lucky their wives play the role of their mothers. They still play my sand box is bigger than yours game just with cars and houses. If fact the bitchiness doesn't really disappear either they've just found clever new ways to hidding it as they years have granted them knowledge. As for ignorance and being naiive...one only needs to look through history and the mess we've made of it.

You call us childish? Take a look in the mirror...

Lady of the Dawn

I was going through the tedious task of reviewing all the notes i had written in the past, both random and poetry. I came across lady of the dawn, an aspiring epic poem and it reminded me of the way i was feeling at the time. The searcher on a quest to find one that was truely worthy. I enjoyed writting this piece. It began on my trip to Madrid in January and i am sure that in a few months or years i shall return to it for editing but for now i feels just right.

Dawn is a new day, a new opportunity, something fresh and new and untouched. There are many worthy women out there that are ladies of the dawns...

Lady of the Dawn.

I've rested, beneath these cursed sheets
it seems for all eternity.
waiting on this single kiss
that will rise my slumbered spirit.

'Cause he has left this place
but he might return,
with another face,
to ignite these burns
and his scent remains
to remind me of those darkened days

Oh, he breathes fire
this man is a liar.
have those clouds returned so soon
to bring the rain, to bring back the rain?

He turns up with his sympathy
He turns up with his words
of sweet nothings that he whispers in my ear
but i say:

I don't want you or your tarnished sword
where ladies of the night
have laid their virtues in false words
but is there any worthy man
is there anyone listening
heralds of the sky, send this call throughout the land.

The race is on
and the journey is long
who will return with a heart that is true
who will come through those wretched gates

Hunter, you are loved by all
so you chose to answer the call
for in your heart you loved the chase
but is this your noble quest?
You tried your best but it wasn't enough
You gave what you could but it wasn't love
So you fell from grace so easily
to the sirens who called your name.

The first has fallen
it breaks my heart
for i loved his passion and his zest for life
but i am left to wonder about you, dear prince
will you dress me in purple silk and call me your queen?
or will you run away.

The prince has stray and will not go on
so come young knight and remove my thorny crown.
Let your song be known
Let me find the lost one in you.
My heart races, like dark horses to you
over vengeful clouds into the dazzling blue.

O knight, don't take too long.
cause i've laid beneath these poison sheet
for what seems like eternity
the unlikely hero has arrived
while the rest have drowned in their pride.
knight you smile and say:

Lady of the Dawn
I have brought you the sun
Raise your sleepy head
cause the beast is dead.

I've rested, beneath these cursed sheets
he has left this place but he might return.

The Odyssey

Sometimes when asked a random question, one not expected my initial response is mental block. The creativity runs out the window and what is left is a wided eyed girl gasping for the right words to say.
In this case i'd guess the question was a blog name and usually i'd just put any random nonsense but i wanted it to be something that would stick, something that said a little about the purpose of my blog and i guess homer's odyssey was the inspiration.

Defined by the dictionary as a long series of wanderings or adventures, especially when filled with notable experiences, hardships, etc.

This to me seemed like an accurate representation of what my life is about. A journey, coincidentally my middle name means the good journey. An Adventure whether it has been good or bad. An odyssey because Life is a Journey