'You are not a pop idol' (or how a first-time novelist competition got realistic).

So they didn't find a winner for the Miss Write competition. You know, the one that I had a folder of ideas for in my 'My Documents' and did not act upon? It's not like I was going to win anyway.

On the one hand, it's a bit sucky - you would have thought that Cosmo would have made it a bigger deal and at least placed it where a rather boring article on postcode-orgasms would have been instead. Even then - the first-time novels were not perfect enough? Were they really expecting the winners to be one-novel wonders who would have given up at the thought of 'Oh dear, my heroine has her man and her self-esteem now...' A bit patronising, not allowing for development of style or even a following.

Yet, I like their admission that they couldn't find a winner. I think all contests should at least have an option to admit that they find the contestants a bit ugly, undertalented insufferable and bland. I would give for Dannii Minogue to stop the proceedings on The X Factor to tell the finalists that they were awful and do not deserve to win in spite of their parents [WHO ARE DEAD]. Big Brother would be redeemed if Endemol woke up and realised that it would be so much better if they just locked the finalists in a room and turned the cameras off. I'm telling you, I'd have so much respect for award ceremonies if they used the 'unworthy winners' excuse.

[Hat tip - Trashionista]

Bridgey xxx

Who do you think you are, Tarantino's new star?

I don't want to see Death Proof. I've successfully avoided most of Tarantino's output apart from the first few minutes of Kill Bill Part One and the famous '110th Street' opener from Jackie Brown and yeah, my cultural life is pretty much okay without watching any more Tarantino. So I won't watch Death Proof and feel patronised when my friends tell me that I don't get it and that I just sum up the idiotic female film viewer.

I mean, these Tarantino fans flaming the anti-pornography protesters make me ashamed to be a so-called film fan. They think they're so outre from the norm but this is just a rehashing of primitive film technology for overgrown teenagers! And the old 'it empowers women!' argument works in the same way as the Pussycat Dolls i.e. not at all.

[Hat tip via The F Word]

Snark of the Mercuries:

Much to the annoyance of countless grown-ups who loved and hated old rave, and people who aren't into mainstream nu-Rave, the Klaxons won the Mercury Music Prize.

Here at Bridget Moans, I like the Klaxons a bit but do not consider them to be the deserving winners. I however, think that if the Mercury was given out for Hoyay*, they were frontrunners.

Bridgey xxx

* Full definition of Hoyay! here.

Loser gets girl. Womankind not suprised.

Joe Queenan bemoans how Knocked Up epitomises a growing trend for romantic comedies that boys will like. And when we say 'boys will like', we mean 'films that are a bit sexist, identifies too much with hyper-literate overweight stoners who get hot and supposedly clever blonde chicks and not really that funny'.

I was so disappointed with Knocked Up. Hollywood promised me a riotously funny film that pulled no punches about the battle of the sexes, hilarious stoner geeks and the grim realities of childbirth. All I got was unsympathetic blonde female characters characterised as 'WASP', 'old', 'blonde', 'nagging wife', 'annoyed mum'; the annoying thought of 'chubby slacker dude Gary-Stu' [look, we're not giving the fictional cypher of Judd Apatow a distinct character name - it was just wish-fulfilment] being characterised as 'sexy', Paul Rudd's character being obnoxious and yet getting sexier with age, stoner pro-life propaganda and a bit of anti-Asian sentiment [did anyone notice the grinning girlfriend and the unfeeling stand-in obstetrician?].

Queenan's examples of nineties romcoms, supposedly girly, overhyped and unfunny were rather interesting. Having not seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding for, um, years, I actually have reappraised it too. So there was a makeover, an Aryan male love interest and a soppy wedding, but the female lead carried a certain narrative subjectivity throughout her eventual transformation, one which Knocked Up [I nearly spelled it 'Kocked Up' - Freudian slip anyone?] surprisingly left out considering that, um, the blonde knocked up by notJuddApatow was the actual pregnant character in the film.

So why do loser stoner boys always get the pretty clever girls? Questions of superficiality? A new form of punishment for female characters who get too ambitious or promiscuous? Wish-fulfilment for the countless number of eternal loser boys who graduate to Hollywood from indie films and IMDB messageboards? All I know is that if a female character actress who was a bit chubby, mousey and generally like an actual woman was ever written in a film relationship with, oooh, David Tennant, they'd probably make David Tennant into a psychotic heroin addict. In a film directed by Mike Leigh.

God. I hate cinema sometimes.

Bridgey xxx

Top Heavy:

A crap list courtesy of Best Week Ever.

You know what, I just wish that the media obsession with pitting against female body shape extremes [not the emphasis on 'extremes'] could just stop right now. I'm fed up of fat being seen as lazy and gross and in dire need of being locked up unless they go out in Muslim dress by thin people trying to mince their words, and thin people being seen as really ugly inside by fat people. It's like a bell curve where the focus on these extremes neglects everyone in between who still feels fat. And where do I fit in?

It is really really getting boring.

Bridgey xxx

'Oh don't worry about them, they're just Dundonian indie scruffs who don't understand handbags.'

Proof.

So the most mediocre band to ever be formed in Dundee [yeah, I really liked Snow Patrol before the sheep-like record-buying public ruined them for me] have poured champagne all over £5000 worth of Mulberry stock?

You don't know which side to feel most contempt for. As a poor student who doesn't have enough money to buy a change purse in Mulberry or any fancy brands and even then is more of shoe hoarder, you must think that it's all Mulberry's fault, charging more for their bags than the value of the raw materials and probably were snorting coke when they decided to invite the View. 'Ooooh, rock and roll rapscallions who represent our edgy image. What do you mean that they could cause damage to our stock - the scent of alcohol in the bags is no worse than what goes on on a WAGS night out'. Indeed.

But the View? They're just unwashed Dundonian indie scruffs who don't understand the joys of big-name handbags, and how do they suit the image of Mulberry in any way possible? They don't change their jeans, the lead singer forgets to brush his hair - they'd get kicked out of any self-respecting boutique. Most importantly, why are a band that represents disaffected working-class Scottish youth quickly accepting a dj set for a handbag store? They don't scream 'manbag'*. Oh.

Bridgey xxx

* Apart from a more coarser derivative, but you can work it out amongst yourselves.

Creativity:

Weeks of having the intellectual metabolism of a slug and have finally decided to start challenging myself again. I thought I was going to go and clean my big brother's flat for payment [yes, am currently at stage where I'd do anything for money - *shudder*] but ended up browsing on the internet, pausing for a bit, writing a short story and am in the middle of typing it up to check for mistakes. Of course it isn't very good. I remember when I used to try and write [and later discard] plot synopses for potential kids' stories when I was little and now I am actually mature enough to write something and I can't. Even with the adage of 'writing what I know', I'm finding that I'm so cut off from real life and people right now that conversation and body language seems so stilted when you write it down. But I suppose my short story was supposed to be a slightly disconcerting story about a first day at work and having not been a poor temp in ages, I suppose it's as naturalistic as a fantasy land.

[No, I will not publish it on the blog]

In more inspiring things created by friends from the internet, I'd like to direct you to the video from the Schema, also known as the internetty DIY music project from The Schema aka. Rhodri. The video has impractically designed sunglasses and the song is not bad considering that if it were on Real Radio you'd be fucking sick of it by now. It is not on any radio stations that your workmates would listen to, hence you can still enjoy it.

Bridgey xxx