Adverts 2.0

Given that my last Adverts piss take went reasonably well, I've been closely watching another lot of ad breaks and keeping my rants safely hidden until I had enough material to produce another blog. Well, here goes:

Oh, and I'm very pissed of that EDF's last advert didn't have Zingy in it.

1. Clover 

We've had to endure this timeless piece of horse manure for many, many years now. And because of its infernal repetition like a bad case of cystitis, one of its' versions is permanently stuck in my head. My argument is this: IT'S BUTTER. It's not a much loved TV character or a funny pet, it's a food item that you spread on toast. Is there really any need to sing about it? About how much you love it and how it makes your life that much better? I've never come home from a shit day and thought "you know what would make this day better? A crumpet with some Clover on it, that would just get rid of all my problems." No, when I've had a shit day, I reach for the vodka, which I'm sure we all do more than we reach for a tub of over-priced, no better tasting than cheap own brand shit, toast accompaniment.

2. Oreo - The Explanation

We've all seen this charmingly cute advert before (not that I think it's cute, I personally hate all kinds of adverts that use children to endorse them), but if you haven't, it's a little girl telling her Dad how to eat an Oreo, but she won't let the poor bastard have one. First of all, this is not how you eat an Oreo. You do not twist it and lick it, that's disgusting. Why would you want to eat something covered in your own saliva, THEN dipped in milk? Yes when you eat something it gets covered in it anyway, but you don't take it out of your mouth, think "oh, that's gonna taste so much better now I've chewed it and mixed it with my bodily fluids." Ew. No, the way to eat an Oreo is: unwrap it, eat it. Secondly, whenever I patronised my parents, I got a bollocking. Thirdly, "don't laugh, it's VERY hard" - because everything is when you're five isn't it? (Also, the exact same thing her father said to her mother on the night of her conception). And finally - "can I try?" "I don't think you're ready yet." - would the advert be made more amusing if after she said this the Dad went "you're adopted." And then fade out with the classic "Only Oreo" in the corner of the screen.

3. Dairylea
This must be a relatively new advert as I can't find a link to it anywhere. But the jist is basically kids playing with lunchables, making them talk and what not. When I was that age, I was punished if I made my food talk. Or played with it in any way, shape or form for that matter. No wonder kids these days are idiots if the food they eat is modelled by kids their own age who make ham puppets.
 

Ozzy

Just 10 weeks old and sleeping with his favourite toy - Mousey.

I just re-watched one of my favourite movies, Marley and Me. Although it's a dog movie, the end in particular (the generic ending to most dog movies) reminds me of when we had to say goodbye to Ozzy after his accident. One of the most horrible things I've ever had to do, and seeing him the way he was with his poor face was just heartbreaking. The last couple of days have really got me thinking about him for some reason, and even though it's been 2 years, I still miss him more than anything.

As much as I still can't get the image of him in his bed at the vet's in the cat ward, it's so much nicer to remember him as he was, playful, cute, pretty and just loveable. So after Marley and Me reminded me of him, I took the opportunity to write about him.

We got Ozzy when I was 13. After looking at a litter of 3 black kittens, I was about to choose one of them, when the owner brought out this beautiful little black and white kitten. He was only 6 weeks old, and usually most kittens can't leave their mother until 8 weeks, but the woman was happy to let us take him. Despite him being a little confused and crying for a bit, Ozzy settled in well and within the first few hours climbed into a cupboard and fell asleep on a pile of catalouges. I named him after one of my favourie movie characters: Osmosis Jones from that movie about a white blood cell cop.

Another special thing about Ozzy was that he was born on my birthday. While most people would think I'm over-reacting what with him being a cat, cat lovers would understand that after 6 years, they're not just pets. They become part of the family and it's so hard when you have to let them go.

As he got older Ozzy became a proper little character. He was funny, some of the positions he'd sleep in were adorably funny and he was so naughty at times. I remember the first Christmas we had him, his desire to constantly play with anything shiny and dangly had him pulling the tree down more often than not.

Just one of his positions he'd like to sit in

While some people would say that cats are selfish, this little guy was nowhere near. Whenever I was ill, he'd be there on my bed next to me. When I was upset, he'd be there at my feet looking up at me. The cutest thing though was how he'd wake me up in the morning before school. My Mum would get up and go downstairs to feed up, and she'd say "go get mummy up" and he'd run upstairs and jump on my bed, waking me up with loud purring and meowing. Although sometimes, he'd just curl up and fall alseep next to me.

Always Posing

Ozzy wasn't just a pet to me, he was so much more than that. He was loving and he was loyal. After a crappy day I'd come home, and he'd be there, waiting. I still love him and I miss him everyday. We lost him after he was hit by a car. Although he hung on for as long as he could, he lost his sight in one eye and lost the other completely, and his jaw was broken and he'd lost several teeth. Even his meow sounded different. I'll never forget how he looked when we said goodbye to him, and I remember how he still knew it was us when my Mum and I went to visit him and how he started purring and cuddled into us. He stuck around for 5 days before we lost him, and because he was unable to eat because of his jaw both the vet and my Mum didn't think it was fair to make him suffer anymore, especially seeing as he'd require constant care with feeding if he ever got better. After cuddling him and telling him how much we loved him, we said goodbye and he passed away peacefully. We lost him on the 29th of April 2010, 5 days before his 6th birthday and before my 18th birthday.

Even though he was so cruelly taken, as you can see I have some lovely pictures of him and I'll always have the memory of  his cute behaviours. And I know he's up there right now pulling down Christmas trees and eating whippy ice cream and curling up on one of my jumpers with Mousey.

Gone but never forgotten.
04.05.2004 - 29.04.2010.

Chamone Mother Plugger

Just a quick heads up that I have started a new blog. It can't be nice for someone without emetophobia to read several entries about emetophobia, so I've set up The Emetophobia Chronicles. Partly because it's easier for me to blog than talk to a professional, and because I really ought to be getting in touch with how this phobia affects me if I'm doing my dissertation on it.

So if the emetophobia entries piss you off, fear no more, as they're now on a completely different side of the internet. Sort of. Or if you enjoy learning about how an irrational fear makes me who I am, or you suffer from it yourself, it's all in a lovely little collection, just for you.

So, without further ado, I unveil The Emetophobia Chronicles. Enjoy.

In your face, stigma!

As someone who has a keen interest in mental health and all things psychological, I've been religiously watching Channel 4's 4 Goes Mad shows, aimed at tacking the stigma around mental health. 2 shows in particular have really spoken to me, and those were Jon Richardson: A Little Bit OCD and The World's Maddest Job Interview. Both of which provided a brilliant insight in what it's like to suffer from various mental health problems.

While I have been diagnosed with what seems minor compared what brave others live with (emetophobia and anxiety), in terms of my own mental health, I understand how sufferers of various mental illnesses feel when they're told things such as 'snap out of it' - a personal annoyance of mine. The only people who know that you possibly cannot snap out of an anxiety attack or a ritual are those who have experienced them. What people don't seem to realise is in terms of those 'irrational thoughts' people suffer with, we would like to snap out of it. But we can't.

Jon Richardson's documentary really got me thinking about some of my own behaviour, much of which I feel is related to my emetophobia. I have several fears about germs, particularly if there's bugs about, I have to keep rechecking things, like whether the taps are off or the door is locked, and (this is the first time I've spoken about this) I have a ritual before bed in terms of repeating several statements in my head and touching something wooden - these may be things I'm worried about, and I'll repeat what I would or wouldn't like to happen, or things that just make me feel that little bit safer. This behaviour annoys the hell out of me, and it's exhausting to do right before bed, just once I'd like to go to sleep without worrying as to whether I've done it, but my mind just picks on me. Another thing that I've recently disovered can be a sign of OCD is fearing harm to others, something which I do a lot now that I can drive. For example, I once parked in a side street when I went to uni, and had to turn the car around when I left. I did this at a little too much speed and ended up mounting the kerb at quite a bit of force, and even though I was looking in the back window and my mirrors, my mind kept asking me "there wasn't a child there or anything was there?" I feel kind of guilty talking about this, as I haven't even been diagnosed with OCD, and while these behaviours annoy me and do get in the way of things, it's nothing compared to what some of the brave people shown in Jon's documentary, particularly Gemma, who's fear of contamination was on the verge of ruining her relationship and had left her housebound, and Joyce, who lost her son through the illness. As I mentioned in my previous blog, a reason stopping me from seeing my GP about my tendencies is a fear of being mocked, or being told that I don't have it and wasting doctor's time, however, upon seeing this documentary it has made me think, maybe it is worth seeing about getting an assessment of some sort.

The World's Maddest Job Interview last night was also a powerful watch. Some of it made me feel angry, like the statistic that 1 in 5 people who've admitted to a mental health problem at work said it cost them their job, and one of the employers stating "I'd feel bad for them, but I wouldn't employ them" upon reading that one volunteer had spent time in a psychiatric hospital. My first thought was surely if someone makes a good impression, they appear to be good at what they do, and they have the relevant experience, why the hell should it matter if they have a mental illness? Whether they choose to disclose it or not, it shouldn't affect their employability.

The best part of this documentary was the final result: the top three most employable candidates had suffered with mental illnesses, and all three employers said that their views on mental health had been changed. I was absolutely inspired by the bravery of all the volunteers and how they spoke up about their conditions, and even more so, that they had managed to beat or control them. It also goes to show that just because someone has a mental health problem, it doesn't mean they're unemployable, and it doesn't mean they're a freak. I think Channel 4 has done a brilliant job of attempting to tackle the stigma around mental health and I think there should be more programming showing people what it's like to live with a mental health condition and that they are more than capable of living perfectly normal happy lives. I think more programming like this, and we could be well on the way to reducing the stigma that has surrounded the issue for so long, and more importantly, inspire those who are suffering in silence to get the help they need.

Emetophobia sucks.

Those who know me well know that I'm a sufferer of emetophobia. For those who don't know, emetophobia is the fear of vomiting. And before you say "well, no one likes being sick," let me stop you right there. Emetophobia is not merely a dislike of being sick. It is a crippling fear that gets in the way of your day to day life. It's when you can't bear to sleep in the same bed as your partner if they so much as complain of feeling sick. It's when you refuse to step on a plane for a fear of child not telling their parents in time they're going to be ill, or being sat next to a complete stranger who's clutching that paper bag - just in case.

My reason for this post? Well, the past few weeks have emphasised the fact that while I feel my phobia has improved in recent years, it still rears it's ugly head from time to time. With me, it was a case of wrong place, wrong time. To be more specific, wrong channel, wrong time. I was 7 years old and home from school suffering from tonsilitis. Back in those days, Cartoon Network would be good up until about 9am, and then when kids were meant to be at school, it would change to baby shows until 3. At the time, there was nothing else on so I settled for Rugrats which is something I hated even back then, but alas, Dexter's Lab wouldn't be on again till 4. Some of you may remember an episode where Angelica tries on Chucky's glasses and they mess the shit out of her and she ends up throwing up from her father's point of view. Wow, just typing that gave me the shakes a little. And that was it. I have suffered from this god awful phobia ever since.

Over the years as I got older, it got worse after a horrendous bought of norovirus, which later resulted in what I don't like to admit was a quite severe case of obsessive compulsive handwashing and 2 weeks of eating nothing but ginger biscuits and mints. I am happy to report that since then, the compulsive handwashing is mainly gone, but unfortunately I still have what some people would describe as OCD tendencies, which most days I tend to deny, and refuse to see a GP for a fear of not being taken seriously and being told to visit the counselling service at my university rather than their one, because I quote "it's more convinient." I wish I could say I made that last part up, but I really didn't.

It doesn't help things that I also suffer from several stomach problems, of which I won't go into much detail, but I will say, the stomach issues and the emet-related anxiety like to feed each other, and most of the time, I don't know which I'd rather be rid of. On one hand, it would be nice to be able to not feel so helpless whenever a friend is drunk or when my boyfriend feels unwell; but on the other, it'd be nice to be able to go travelling or go out for a meal without the constant nausea.

Emetophobia also provides me with an irrational hatred for several kinds of people: those who don't wash their hands after using the toilet/blowing their nose, and those who go out in public less than 48 hours after having a stomach bug. Yes, I understand you have work and bills to pay, but spare a thought for everyone else. I can also see a third being added to this list in the future if I have children in the form of those who send their children to school when they're ill, but I don't want parents jumping down my throat, so I'll just leave it at that.

Another sucky thing is the fact that the obessive tendencies, anxiety and constant worrying about everything make me a highly annoying person. Several people I have met over the past few years probably see me as a total weirdo who has some serious issues. I am a weirdo for many reasons, but emetophobia isn't one of them. Although, it has been a nice bit of fuel for bullies in recent years. I was always careful who I told, but, things have a way of getting around.

While this phobia sucks and I would be more than happy to trade my psyche for one which is fearless and less anxious, I should take a moment to point out the things that emetophobia has brought to me that I am grateful for. One of which is the lovely, lovely people I have met as a result of several forums. It really makes the experience more comforting when you know you're not alone. It's also one of the reasons why I aspire for a career in psychology and mental health. However, recent research into possible careers tell me I need a masters at the very minimum, and even more education doesn't sound like the best option for me. I think it's time to grow up.

I would like to make future plans to cure my phobia or at least improve it further, but at the moment, as awful as it sounds, my motivation gets in the way. After having CBT a few years ago which I struggled with, the thought of eating vegetable soup from a cardboard hospital bowl (yes, you read correctly) makes my stomach turn. So, in the mean time, I'll be popping mints at every little stomach ache, taking mebeverine religiously and praying that I don't get sick. As for you, wash your hands!

Leave Jimmy alone!

People of Britain have gone apeshit this week, all because comedian Jimmy Carr was using a tax avoidance scheme. He's since apologised, but people are still going mental over the whole thing. The PM has even called what he's done 'morally wrong' - pot calling the kettle black there, Dave.

While it was right of Jimmy to apologise anyway, I personally don't see that he's done anything wrong. While a common opinion of those who don't earn a lot is that people who earn more should pay more tax, most of us in Jimmy's shoes would have done the same given the opportunity. I know I would have. The PM was also unfair to single him out, as he clearly isn't the only one. As for referring to it as 'morally wrong,' it seems highly hypocritical. Didn't we have MPs claiming for toilet seats and porn a while back? And privatising the NHS and taking away healthcare from all of us who can't afford to go private, that's nowhere near morally wrong is it?

I may get people jump down my throat for saying this, however, we all have freedom of speech, so there: I work, however, I don't pay tax on my wages because I don't earn enough. However, if I did pay tax, I would be absolutely disgusted that my hard earned money was being pissed away on pointless shit such as, oh, I don't know, the Olympics for example, so I don't blame anyone for saying 'yes' to the opportunity of paying less tax if I was advised it was legal. Come on, we'd all do it.

It's a shame that some people are using this whole story to go against Jimmy in general. On Twitter people are ranting because he's apologised for this, but not for some of the sick jokes he's come out with in the past. For the record, the clue is in the sentance - jokes. Jokes are not meant to be taken seriously, because they're jokes. BF and I met him in April when he toured here and he was lovely. Before you jump down my throat at that I will immediately say that in no way do I condone these jokes, there have been times when I've watched his DVDs or whatever and thought 'yeah, that was a bit much,' but at the end of the day, he's a comedian, it's his job and he's always done some form of dark humour in his shows. It's not forced upon anyone, we pay to go to his shows, we buy his DVDs and we watch him on the telly, and we have the choice to do that. If you're one of those people that doesn't like his humour, then don't watch him. Again, it's not right to single him out, there are plenty of comedians with that sort of humour, some who go further in that sort of humour. We're ashamed to admit sometimes that we do laugh at these jokes, but it doesn't reflect our opinion of the groups that are targeted.

At the end of the day, he's apologised now, and he's admitted he was wrong - which is what most of the slaters wanted. That should be the end of it. Although, as with the news, it probably isn't.

Magazine thoughts

I'm starting to enjoy personally attacking certain magazines, one in particular reminds me of that girl you used to be friends with until you started secondary school when she became a cement faced, fake nail, fake eyelash wearing Barbie doll who had nothing better to do than pick on the kids wearing glasses who did their homework rather than spending their evenings being fingered round the back of McDonald's. It's become just that.

So, just a few thoughts on what I've read recently.

Brad and Angelina spent £3,000 on a curry - Well, that's nothing new there. How about we start solving all the debt problems in this country - the world even - by taking money from those who have too much?  You know the last thing I spent 3 grand on? NOTHING. I have never spent that amount of money on anything in my life. Probably because I'm only 20 and don't even own my own car yet - but still. I get under that paid into my bank account for my student loan. I don't care if they have the money for it, how about they donate that 3 grand to a worthy cause and get a £6 takeaway bag from Tesco? Oh yes, because they're better than all of us.
 
One of the England Euro squad has an A* in Latin - Sorry, but I just don't believe this. If a footballer was capable to get an A* in anything, they'd surely be smart enough to know that kicking a ball around a field for a stupid amount of money is not a career to be proud of. And if we're talking an A* which you can't get at A-level nor university level, we're only talking GCSE. The bare minimum qualification you can leave eduacation with.

You should always wear a condom - Well, duh. Those who think regularly taking the morning after pill and getting an abortion when you have an accident is an appropriate form of contraception ought to have their legs stapled together.

40% of men think housework is a woman's job - There's a word for these types of men. What is it? Oh yes, pricks.