Friday, January 30, 2009

The STYNX Effect

I get woken up by a varying amount of things. Sometimes it’s my alarm clock; sometimes it’s Dante’s alarm clock, sometimes it’s Dante doing an impression of his alarm clock (ask him). Sometimes I am merely awoken by the sounds of the family crashing about; apparently my dad must delicately balance nuclear warheads in the cereal cupboard, I must inform North Korea.

Although these things are not always as annoying as they sound, at least once a week I am awakened by neither of these. At least once a week I am awakened by my brother’s deodorant.
Yes, you heard right. It’s not the sound: although the average man (i.e. anyone I know that isn’t Xela) will stand for a quick pssst from his trusty can of Lynx or similar under each armpit, brother of mine is the noted exception and will empty almost half a can onto his underarms. It’s the smell.

And it’s enough to wake me up. Hence the need to blog about it.

Now don’t get me wrong, I do like a sniff of Lynx – and there’s the operative word. A sniff. I’m not saying you should all stop using it because I’d much rather smell a hard day’s work on every male companion I greet (put it this way, would you rather I didn’t meticulously shave my legs?), it’s just nice to not be overwhelmed.

I put this shortcoming slightly down to the fact that my brother, and in fact my boyfriend are both the ultimate consumer. They’re the conglomerate’s best friend. I must say I like Lynx’s adverts: the man made of chocolate*, the claymation caveman one, in fact the only one I didn’t like was the one where the bloke sprays from his armpits into people’s faces. And the idiot with the chameleon eyes that looks a bit like James Blunt.

But I digress. Every time there’s a new Lynx out, you can bet that it’ll be on the bathroom counter at mine before the weekend. The only problem with this is that, instead of attracting me, the advert’s example of a nubile young woman (okay, without the massive knockers and cinched-in waist, I’m not a bloody model, you won’t catch me running down a High Street in a bikini without someone having financed it heavily), it repulses me now. I have to make Dante leave the room when he sprays it, and this morning Xel’s aerosol antics actually made my throat swell up. This of course may necessitate a trip to the doctors, proving that if a woman hates anything enough it’ll cause her to break out in hives/ swell up like a Jigglypuff who just got a parking ticket**.

So men, please heed my call. If you spray too much, the only things you will attract will be unwanted attention. And an angry visit from me with a fly-swatter.

Oh and for your reference, the adverts I mentioned:

*That spray smells nothing like chocolate; obviously the people who made it think it does.
** This analogy is bought to you by someone who plays too much Pokemon Diamond.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Credit Crunch Bunch

Yes I know, it's now 2009 and I should be doing the usual: Summary of 2008, brief look into 2009, New Year's Resolutions, wash lather rinse repeat. But I'm not, so Blogger can stop telling me what to do and stick it all up its [/ URL].

Sorry, spot the PMS (no prizes). Without further ado, I'd like to point you towards the Credit Crunch. Look out of your window and you'll see it; alternatively you could look deep into Gordon Brown's eyes (not too deep, you'll catch Dailymailitis) and you'll see it. Or you'll just see the beginning of cataracts. You could also look into the derelict windows of what was your local Woolworth's - I tried this, and ended up getting depressed and dropping my pasty on the cold, hard, bourgeois floor.

A little while back, Fox of foxkadmon.blogspot (see links) offered us a slightly optimistic view on the dreaded Credit Crunch (sorry - why is it always capitalised, like a proper noun? As an ex-English student I object). I appreciated it, however I strongly disagree, but you my dear reader are not here merely for me to subject upon you my bile, as much as I do indulge myself on the odd occasion. So instead I've compiled a quick list: How to Beat the Credit Crunch.

Don't Buy Labels. I mean all aspects of, therefore; from food brands such as Coke, etc to clothing brands. Replacing food brands with the supermarket's equivalent is an obvious one. Cothing however is trickier, specifically if you're the average heterosexual male. Shopping online means you don't have to pay top whack, but also means you don't have to buy in bulk from Primark.
Who can help?:, COMPANY magazine (the only acceptable glossy)

Put Down the Mouse. No, don't euthanise Mickey, I meant stop buying online. Pound sterling is now the same value as the dollar, so it's not as fun any more to buy games/consoles/DVDs etc from the States at 25% off.
Who can help?: Only you, my friend. Only you. (Or eBay).

Make a Compost Heap. Stuff that can go on compost heaps: food scraps, degradable food wrappers, fruit peel, vegetable peel, fish carcasses etc. Stuff that cannot go on compost heaps: younger siblings. If only I'd known in advance how hard it was to get banana rind out of eyelids.
Who can help?: Apparently not NHS Direct, who told me there were actual medical emergencies waiting to be answered and told me to 'get off the line'. Killjoys.

Recycle the Things You Wouldn't Normally. Get your college/uni to host a Clothes Swap day. Swap your unwanted presents online. Keep your birthday cards and make new ones for family members who are bound to love a homemade card.
Who can help?:,

Start a 'Trade Guild'. You can do this with clothes, video games, accessories or anything really, all you need is a few close friends of similar interests/sizes/consoles and a little money. You all pool your money for a specific item you all want and that item stays in an 'Inventory' i.e. somewhere where you all can access it until one of you wants to borrow it.
Who can help?: A few friends with similar interests.

That's it for now. We'll be back to normal programme schedules soon.

PS: Jeff, if you're actually reading this...I'm so gutted I missed out on your lasagne the other day. Oh, and thank you for reading! Wow, I have a reader...

PPS: Brawny, get well soon or I'm coming up there with some script ideas and a bottle of Cillit Bang. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.