Save Me!

So, the Government want to make tobacco packets plain. Apparently, it will make it less 'sexy', less attractive to smokers and wannabe smokers. Really? Funnily enough, I don't smoke because of the cool factor. I don't think smoking makes me sexy. Really. I don't smoke the brand of rolling tobacco I do, because of the packaging. I wouldn't care if it was white or if they made the pouches pink and sparkly. 

I'm so damned tired of the constant nagging. Believe me when I say, I understand the hazards. I've seen the effects first hand. And if watching my dad die from lung cancer didn't make me stop immediately, then forcing tobacco companies to change their packaging to plain, really isn't going to make the damnedest bit of difference to my smoking habits. I'm tired of being tutted at, lectured and made to feel like a social pariah. I will stop when I'm ready and nagging me is only going to make me roll and light up another one. 

You see, here's the thing: I'm an adult. It means I get to make decisions for myself. Good, bad and indifferent.

I'm getting heartily fed up of scaremongering in the media. I had a look on-line and unfortunately I can't find these ads, you'll have to take it on faith they exist. Apparently, there are germs that live on the top of hand wash dispensers. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen. This is Bad. The company involved is busy marketing one of these motion-sensitive dispensers for the home. 

For anyone who got bullied into buying one of those, to you I say PT Barnum was right. Sucker!

Let's look at this logically. The product is sold as an anti-bacterial hand wash and claims to kill 99.9% of all germs. So when do you touch the pump of the hand wash? Oh, just before you wash your hands. Hopefully, when you wash your hands you'll do a good enough job to get rid of those 99.9% germs. Where exactly does this need for a hands-free dispenser come from?

Last night, I sat with my jaw open watching an ad for a stain and anti-bacterial clothes detergent. Not only do I need an anti-bacterial surface cleanser, but now I have to wash my clothes with anti-bacterial soap powder. Great.

Where does this fear come from? How the hell did the human race survive this long in this wilderness of germs? I mean, how did I make it to adulthood washing my hands with a scummy soap bar (when I bothered to wash my hands at all)? Did I tell you I grew up with four dogs and a cat that used to sit hopefully next to my mother on the counter as she prepared food (the cat, not the dogs. They used to sit round her feet)? I played in a drain where people threw their trash. I drank water from a hosepipe. I used to share food with the dogs and let me tell you, labradors are known for showing their gratitude with lots of tongue. How did I survive?

Now, don't get me wrong, I can be sarky about this because I don't have a compromised immune system. But people with compromised immune systems do not make up the majority of the populace. Most of us walking around, are relatively hail and hearty. It's normal to get a cold. To sometimes not feel well. What isn't normal is this whole 'I need to keep going' business. If you're ill, be mean, keep it to yourself. Don't carry on as normal, don't go into work and share it with everyone. This, I saw first hand. One person comes into work with a bug and next minute you know, everyone's pretty much got it. Employers, take note: instead of having one person off ill, you have a room full of sick people and how productive are they? Really? Not very. They're too busy mustering the energy to remain upright. I guarantee you, the mistakes they've made those 5 days they came in ill, would have been best avoided by having a couple of days off in bed.

Perhaps the marketing people have got it all wrong. They should be selling the germ warfare stuff to the workplace.

Oh look, this has been a post in two rants. It's a Buy One Get One Free special offer. You lucky, lucky people. Have a good week. Try not to kill anyone.

The Right Time

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about my Life. Every time I make plans they seem to turn to dust. Not that that is a bad thing. Far from it. It just means I'm scratching my head thinking 'what am I going to do now?'

So I've looked at the list of things I want to do, but haven't quite got round to yet. It's quite a long list I realised. One of the things I have wanted to do, or perhaps I should say, something I wanted to have done, is orthodontic work. I had braces in my teens and the treatment was never finished properly. This meant that my teeth slid back into crooked positions over the years. I've been mulling this over, because let's face it, nice straight, white teeth are a good thing.

I was in the garden smoking and thinking and it came to me - if not now, when? When is going to be the right time to have this done? It's going to take 18 months from start to finish, every month I delay is another month I could have been closer to finishing. If I had the treatment done when I first looked into it, I'd be finished by now. So, now is the time. On the 18th of June I'll begin my torture sessions. In two Christmases from now, I'll have a Hollywood smile. Oh yeah baby.

The other thing which is on my list is exercise. How often have I said here that I want to be fit again? Again, the same logic applies. If not now - when? What, when I'm ageing and my decrepit body starts falling apart. Bit late then isn't it? When my energy levels improve? Are they really going to improve with no effort on my part? Hmmm...let me think. It really isn't going to happen is it?

You will need to excuse me now, I'm going to huff and puff through an exercise dvd. If you don't hear from me in a few days, assume my nicotined stained lungs have given out and I'm keeled over. Send Robert Downey Jr to do CPR.

Update: Damned near killed myself working out with Davina. Dear God, I thought this exercise lark is supposed to be good for you! Send RDJ now!

When Violence is the Only Answer

The other night, I assumed the position on my very comfy sofa. There was a glass full of drink next to me, I'd just finished my dinner. The work during the day left me feeling pleased with myself and what I'd achieved. I switched on the telly, ready to enjoy some NCIS action. All was well in my world. And then it came on...

Always have a new feminine hygiene product. Someone thought it was a good idea to place a CGI pad on a mechanical bull (motorised rodeo thingy, used to test drunken men's manhood in Texan pubs. One assumes the real men would be on the real thing with sharp hooves and pointy horns). The mechanical bull whirls around with the pad firmly attached, with the odd whip crack to emphasise....ye-es. The advert comes to a halt with a whip crack and a chirpy female voice advising us to have a 'happy period'.

I am a woman. I have never had a happy period in my life. The week's run up sees me spotty, snarling, bloated, weepy; the event itself sees me swallowing ibuprofen like a junkie, curled up sobbing through Amelie. Post-event, Boy goes off to therapy, counting the days off on the calendar when he can leave home.

I can cope with quite a bit of patronising. Nivea Visage Q10 Plus have informed me the reason I feel more confident now, than 10 years ago is purely down to their anti-age ingredients in their creams. Apparently, it has fuck-all to do with the fact that as I and many other women age, we realise it doesn't really matter. But, hey, I am currently coping with it.

I can cope with knowing that one day I'll go skiing with Tena Lady anchored round my loose bladder. I am even managing not to grind my teeth flat with the latest Halifax ads. I do occasionally want to smash their radio studio up, but it passes.

But Always is really, really begining to piss me off. It's not like I have a lot of choice for feminine hygiene products. Women are a bit of a captive market; unless of course I would care to try a moon cup. Which I don't, thanks all the same. What exactly do they think women do all day when afflicted by a period? I certainly wouldn't be on a mechanical bull, cracking a whip. In fact, I wouldn't be cracking a whip at all. And the cracking whip brings to mind all kinds of S&M practices that suddenly become really, really icky (or sticky) during the monthlies. EEeeewwwwww people, just ewww!

I just want to go out and hurt some advertising people now. Give them a stern talking to. With a whip.