Sunday 17th December 2017
It’s officially mid-to-late December, by which I mean 'tis the season of consumer capitalist joy, by which I mean CHRISTMAS IS COMING. It’s especially catchy in caps, I must say. On Friday Jen from work sent me a link to an opinion piece from the Guardian about why feminist merchandise is naff, which blows this year’s gift ideas out the water. What’s more exciting to unwrap than a t-shirt with cartoon tits on it? Or a plastic iPhone case with NASTY WOMAN emblazoned in man-dazzling style? OK, the hypocrisy of brandishing slogan feminism on a t-shirt made by a lady in a sweatshop being paid 62p an hour is not lost on me, but it does raise questions about what I do with that set of fake nails in the shape of tiny vulva.
Lori and I are decorating the flat. Her family don’t really celebrate Christmas, so we try to go all out to make up for the years of childhood jealousy she has suffered. How much tinsel is too much tinsel? I’m really embracing the festivities this year. Remember this when I’m slagging off Christmas music on my third loop of Sainsburys because the whole place has been ransacked by the pre-Christmas food hoarders.
Until next time...