… Wanna throw same-sex marriage in there too?
Does anybody actually follow little-known comic bloggers on Twitter? Or am I just unusually lame and boring?
Or is it that they were lying when they told me that having a Twitter account was going to make my blog more popular?
This is something I just wanted to mention after checking out the Twitter/general Internet debate on this topic.
Steven Moffat is not sexist for his writings. Either that or I must have been paying no attention during the past two seasons of Doctor Who, because it seems to me that you’d’ve had to read pretty fucking hard into it to get any sexism out of the writing there. I realise that most of the criticism currently surrounds the latest season of Sherlock, which I just caught up on. And it is a) quite fucking awesome thank you very much, and b) not actually of Moffat’s own creation, let’s remember - he’s just written it into the 21st century, for television, and I think he’s done a pretty good job of it. It’s a good yarn, and that’s about as far as it goes for most of us.
Class dismissed.
Today I received my first email at caterpillarequalsn@gmail.com.
The subject line was as follows:
“Find new sin gles for XX X sex”
Now taking orders. NZ$3.00 plus shipping costs if you don’t live in my ‘hood. Flick me a message (caterpillarequalsn@gmail.com) if you’re interested.
This week on Caterpillar Equals “n”, we explore our manly side.
An outtake from the post I’m currently working on.
Well. It’s not literally my first experience; very occasionally, my parents would take my brother and I there when we were small children (however, I don’t remember it being for anything other than birthday parties). When I was fourteen I had a soft serve there after a school trip. But this was my first experience eating food at McDonald’s as a semi-independent young woman who has a choice about where she eats out.
Only, on this occasion, I didn’t have much of a choice at all (why else would I be going to McDonald’s, having successfully avoided it for years). My boyfriend and I had been to see a movie (see my earlier post re: The Hunger Games) on Easter Monday and when we went into town to see if we could find a spot of dinner, everything was closed expect McDonald’s. Our choices were limiting: either eat here or go to the supermarket, buy something to cook, trek all the way back to my boyfriend’s flat, cook it, and eat it. Short on time and low on food, we chose McDonald’s.
The menu wasn’t very inspiring. I only seem to remember there being about five things on it. I ordered a ‘McChicken’.
The burgers came out very fast, and when I opened the packaging, I saw why.
There sat the saddest, smallest, most pathetic excuse for a hamburger I have ever seen. Between the buns there lay a thin crumbed patty that looked like it had come out of a box and been flash-heated, the inside of which vaguely resembled chicken (not the ‘succulent chicken breast’ or whatever the menu claimed it to be, but some grey approximation of meat), and a shitload of shredded lettuce - presumably to make up for the pronounced lack of other vegetables. Or anything else exciting, for that matter.
Biting into it, I found that there was also some mayonnaise.
My orange juice tasted more like flat orange flavoured fizz.
My expectations weren’t high to begin with, but McDonald’s somehow managed not to even come close to meeting them. My mother has said, after I recounted the story to her, that it was an experience that scarred me - and she’s not too far from the truth.
Sometimes people are leaving comments on my blog posts.
This is very exciting to me.
