Everyone loves a rugby man

I make no apologies, this post is just an excuse to get some pretty arses up on my blog. You ready? Good.

Milla (her again!) has questioned why women think rugby men are good looking. I feel it is my duty (and, I cannot lie, my pleasure) to use words and photos to explain the attraction.

Compelling argument one: variety is the spice of life

No matter how you like 'em... tall, small, chubby, thin, there's a rugby man for you out there somewhere. The diversity of the positions means that there are a huge range of different body shapes and sizes playing.

Compelling argument two: Real men

Unlike other sportsmen, rugby men rarely feel pain. They can carry on playing with head injuries, broken fingers, toes, ribs. This makes them manly. Fact.










Compelling argument three: they're not footballers

They don't fall over and pretend they're hurt. They don't argue with the ref. They don't get paid far too much for doing bugger all. They don't play football.

And surely that's reason enough?

There are obviously lots of other reasons:

They're generally all aminable chaps
They tend not to get involved in orgies
The game stays on the pitch
All problems in life can be solved by a beer

I'm slightly biased, I must admit, since N is very much a rugby man. However, having once dabbled with the football playing fraternity I can honestly say that a rugby man makes a much better boyfriend. For me. I'm not saying that all footballers are bad. I'm not saying that they don't make good boyfriends. I am saying that I can't imagine spending that much time with someone who obsesses over the wrong shaped ball.

In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire...

A bout of chuntering with Milla has led me to realise how unforgiving I am of those who incur my grammatical, stylistical and vocabularical wrath (and yes, vocabularical is a word. A word I made up. Shush, I'm ranting)

There are a couple of things which really really really annoy me.

Toilet:
It's not a toilet. It's a loo. The origins of "loo" are unknown but there are a number of wonderful theories... all which are much better than toilet (which seems to be an Americanism). Lavatory (from the Latin lavātōrium) is of course, even better.

Lounge:
Unless you live in an airport, you do not have a lounge in your house. You have a sitting room (which is normally slightly more informal) or possibly a drawing room. Not used for drawing, but rather withdrawing.

Couch:
Sofa. Sofa. Sofa. Couch? Brings up visions of Land of Leather. Ditto settee

Serviette:
It may sound French. It may be French. It's still horrible. You probably get serviettes in a McDonalds. If you're at my house, you get napkins.

Tux/Tuxedo:
Another Americanism (and hey, this isn't a beat-the-Americans-over-the-head-with-a-stick post it's just I don't like certain ways they do things... politics amongst others). It's a dinner jacket. You wear it when having dinner. Which neatly leads me onto...

Tea/Dinner:
I've never understood this one. In my house it was always... Breakfast, Lunch, Tea, Supper. Breakfast is pretty self-explanatory. Lunch, meal in the middle of the day. Tea, either a cup of tea or a small snack when home from school (at around 4/5 ish). Supper, meal at the end of the day, around 8/9 o'clock. Some people have Breakfast, Dinner and then Tea. How does that work?

Hello, pleased/nice to meet you/how's it going:
Even I have to admit, I'm a bit slack with this one... it depends to whom I am talking. Interviewers, friends of parents, N's parents/friends, certain people I went to uni/school with? "Hello. How d'you do?". Random person I'm being introduced to in the pub? "Hi, how's it going?"

Setting the table:
Fork on the left. Knife on the right (blade facing in please). Finished eating? Knife and fork together in the middle of the plate (blade again, facing in).

Eating:
Fork in left hand, knife in right. Elbows off table (unless you've finished). Finishing your mouthful before talking. Wait until everyone's got food before starting. Napkins on lap, not tucked in anywhere else. If you're a child, ask to leave the table, don't just assume you can. If you're an adult and you need to go somewhere, excuse yourself. If you're a guest, always offer to help clear away. Don't stack the plates. Certainly don't scape the plates at the table. Take them out to the kitchen 2 (or 3 if you can manage it) at a time.

Snobbish? Maybe. Sue me.

EDIT 200308: Thank you peach - a typo meant I'd completely undone all my ranting previously. Knife is now firmly placed in the right hand. Phew.

The one where I pretend I know what I'm talking about...

James at The Ink has shamelessly stolen other people's ideas (alright, asked nicely for people to give their ideas... I'm just sore because mine wasn't chosen) and written a post of his top tip golden blogging rules.

For what it's worth, here are mine...

• Blog interesting
• If you don't think you're very interesting, invent a new persona... Contortionist? Burlesque dancer? Accountant? Whatever floats your boat.
• Don't worry too much about blogging regularly. Real life does happen. You will have other things that keep you busy. It's not your job. Like all hobbies, blogging can't take over your life.
• Be part of the community dude... that means reading other people's blogs, that means commenting and that means actually be interested in other people - it's not all about you, despite what you might think.
• Make sure your writing is readable. No txt spk hr - I dnt udersnd it (is that right?). I understand l33tspe3k even less. i \/\/3\T t0 tH3 5h0p2 t0d4Y 4\d 80U9hT 4 l04f 0F 8r34D just won't cut it. Remember what your teacher taught you.
• Realise this is the internet - you never know who's reading. No matter how much you try and keep your blog quiet, it's likely that someone you know will, at some point, read it. Write accordingly. Don't censor your work, just think how it would feel if you found your name blazed across some internet site. Use pseudonyms.
• Don't let the bastards grind you down. Occasionally in the big bad world of the internet, you're going to come across people you don't like. Solution? Easy. Don't visit their site again. It's ok not to like people, you don't have to beat yourself over the head about it.
• If you're having a bit of a brain-freeze, look at the news, look at other blogs, look up random words... or, if all else fails, go and find a meme to answer.
• It doesn't matter what you blog about as long as it's your own perspective on something. The reason people read your blog is because they want to know what you think... not what Norma Major said about Edwina Currie (or whatever)
• No matter how dull you think a subject is, I bet you can make it interesting.

Gosh, that's all a bit too serious for me. Sorry.

Normal service will be resumed once I a) start following all my rules from above and b) think of something worthwhile to write about.

About another 3 days then...

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

... why can't you make me look thinner than I am.

I'm going through a fat and ugly stage at the moment. The ubiquitous facebook means that photos which should never see the light of day are slowly creeping into my friends' consciousness. There I am, large as a whale, wobbling my double/triple chins to the world.

I can only untag photos so fast.

Have you had an accident at work...?

Anna over at little.red.boat (a cracking read by the way, much recommended) has recently had a rant about a large processed chicken fast food chain advert. Her justified anger made me angry just thinking about all those adverts which just make me scream at the screen. I figured the only way to purge myself of this anger and free myself to get on with some work was to rant. Uncontrollably. Forgive me.

The Advertising Hall of Shame (as voted for by a screaming nutty cow):

Picture the loan - A couple of things really annoy me about this advert. Leaving aside all the moral issues about advertising debt to people who are already in debt (Carol Vorderman, I'm talking to you here, too) consider the following. Why would you film your loved one on the phone when they were sorting out a consolidation loan? It's not something you're going to show the grandchildren, is it? "Look dear, this is when we got ourselves into more debt, just before we declared ourselves bankrupt!". Secondly, the... "how much do you want to borrow? £25,000?" - the casual way in which this couple discuss their finances leads me feel that they shouldn't have access to a piggy bank, let alone £25,000.

Frosties - "They might taste great/but they make me irate/Frosties adverts are something I really hate" the most annoying jingle in the last 20 years. Believe me, you'll have it running through your head for the rest of the day. And while I'm at it... surely it's just wrong to rhyme "great" with "pirate"?
PS. While searching for a suitable photo I found this article... tee hee.


Halifax - Somewhere in advertising land, a brainstorming session is underway. "I tell you what would be really great... an advert... with real people... singing real songs which we can amend to make them applicable to banking! What d'ya think of that?" "Great idea Bob!". Well, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Bob, but it wasn't a great idea. It was a shit idea. Banks are supposed to be trustworthy, have an air of gravitas. Would you trust your bank manager if you knew that two weeks ago he was prancing around in spandex singing a poor rendition of "We are sailing", sorry "We are saving"? No, didn't think so. Think of the children people.

DulcoEase - The first thing I do when I go out for lunch with my friends is talk to them about the trouble I've had trying to do a poo. Really, it is. And you know what, more often than not they just happen to have a handy pack of laxatives in their handbag. Aren't girls just great?

Seriously, does this ever happen?

My handbag contents normally consist of a phone, keys, wallet, some cigarettes, possibly a lighter. On occasion I have makeup and even, more rarely, some paracetemol. I don't think I've ever got ready for a night out and thought "Hmmm, better put some of these bad boys in. You know, just in case I have a strained moment."

Hearing about the bowel movements of my closest friends is just not something I expect. Boys, I know, have an obsession with anything scatalogical. Us ladies, I think we're a tad more refined.

Glade - Continuing with the poo theme (I'm starting to sound a little bit like ScaryDuck here) small child on loo shouting "it's all gone, it's all gone" (in a really badly dubbed "English" accent). 1. The offending "touch 'n' fresh is about 4 foot away. How did he discover it was empty? He must have shuffled over there. 2. Where did he get the pen and paper from? He must have shuffled around to find some - possibly in another room. 3. How did he manage to push it under the door without getting off the loo? He didn't, he would have had to move. So, with all this movement, theoretically he could have got up, wiped arse, pulled trousers up, washed hands etc, and then changed the glade thing. But oh no, small child still couldn't be bothered to change the glade thingy. Lazy child.

What's annoying you today?

EDIT: Just had to go through that post and amend all the typos. Obviously my anger at these adverts has taken itself out on my typing.