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Miss Scotch's LoveTaps: Spankin' 'round the world from one island to another

Yes, the Prototype for LoveTaps, created by the lovely Miss Scotch, is now in my possession.

Jealous?
Yes. Yes you are.

So go buy one.

Thank you Scotchie!!!!

xx

The tale of a girl, some cheese, and her desperate search for the Hidden Valley

There was once a girl who lived in sunny valley in Northern California. She much enjoyed this valley, with its hills so green, and it's air full of pollen.

She loved the food this fair valley had to offer: Mozzarella cheese from Californian cows, battered and fried to perfection in a glorious 'stick'...


Sourdough bread from the coast...Sierra Nevada, Fat Tire and Anchor Steam from the breweries of her homeland.
 
But most all, she missed the food from a particular spot in the valley...

A Hidden Valley if you will....

A mix of herbs and spices all mixed together in buttermilk goodness...

Ranch Dressing.


This girl would put this creamy, fatty concoction on food of any sort: Rice. Pizza. French fires. Chicken. Grilled Cheese Sandwiches. There wasn't a food she's eat that Ranch could not complete. (Even steak.)

Then, one day, the girl met a boy who she decided she fancied more than all the ranch dressing, sourdough bread, and Anchor Steam in all the land...

So she moved, to a United Kingdom, far far away.

Sure, she discovered Chicken Korma, and Pud Thai, and Peshwari Naans...(and Yorkshire Pudding, and Magners, and Stella, and Toad in the Hole) but as the years past she realized, nothing, not even Hellmans' Garlic and Herb dressing, could satisfy her desire for ranch.

(And yes, this girl DID TRY the Hidden Valley Ranch packets but it's JUST NOT THE SAME.)

Then, one day, this girl and her boy grew very hungry whilst shopping.

In fact, they were so hungry that they caved and went to the cheesiest restaurant in existance. One that this girl would avoid when she still lived in the magical valley of Northern California.

It's a place of "flare", red and white stripes, mudslides, and cheese and bacon potato skins...

Yes, they went to TGI Fridays.

At first they thought all was lost, and that this girl would get diarrhea again like the two other times she'd been to this restaurant...

But then she saw something on the menu:

"Mozzarella Dippers"

"OH my fucking god! THEY HAVE MOZZARELLA STICKS HERE!!!!", the well-mannered young girl exclaimed with joy.

And then, though the girl's heart could barely take anymore joy, this girls' glorious boy, asked their waiter if they had "ranch dressing".

To both of their shock, waiter actually understood. He nodded. And quickly brought the deliriously happy couple a side of ranch dressing, to dip their mozzarella dippers in.

The young Californian girl nearly wept ranch-flavored tears of junk-food joy.

She had managed to find true ranch dressing and mozzarella sticks in the United Kingdom.

All is well...

All is well....

 

Facetiousness is the new terrorism

As previously mentioned, Monday I was threatened by an 86-year-old postal worker to be "refused service". Yes. It's true.

My aunt and my mom both sent me wedding/birthday presents (we like to do things "better late than never" in my family...) and the mother fuckers over at PARCEL FORCE were holding them hostage.

Monday, July 10, I receive a "Sorry we missed you!" notice because I actually have a job and don't stay at home in my cupcake slippers all day any more.

So I phoned them up to have them send it to my local post office, and of course, got someone who spoke a language other than COHERENT AND MAKES SENSE, so it didn't go all that well.

"When we deliver?"

"Yesterday."

"You call back tomorrow, your parcel not delivered to depot yet."

"But it says on the note it IS at the depot and to contact you within five days..."

"Yes, you call back tomorrow."

"You don't even have my name, though. How do you know that?"

"YOU CALL BACK TOMORROW."

So then I did CALL BACK TOMORROW and thought instead of speaking to more people who don't understand me, I thought I'd talk to a robot. After spelling out my post code, and full address, we were at the whole, "What is your name?" bit...

"Please.Spell. Out. Your. Sur. Name."

"H-A-S-S-E-L-H-O-F-F**"

"Now. Please. Spell. Out. Your. First...Name."

"C-A-I-T-L-I-N"

"...You said: GAIL Hasselhoff.....Is that correct?"

Then I was on hold for 15 minutes listening to Vanessa Carlton's Thousand Miles (or whatever) ON LOOP, so then I just went online to have it redelivered on Friday. (Why I didn't just do that in the first place, I dunno.)

I spent all day Friday waiting for the package that never came, so I called Ye Old Fucker named Parcel Force and talked to someone who spoke English and said for some reason the system said I meant to have it redelivered on Monday...FINE, I said. Send it to my local post office on Monday and I'll pick it up "after 3pm" like he said.

So, I take walk to the post office at 4, all excited because FINALLY I shall have my boxes.

"Hi, I have two parcels to pick up." I nicely said to the half-dead man behind the glass.

"TWO? Can I see your ID please?" (No one could possibly love you enough to send TWO!)

"Sure...The only thing is that my passport still has my maiden name on it, and the packages are being sent to my married name."

"OH....WELL. That's different than."

"Well, no, not really. My married name is Hasselhoff, so my package will be for Caitlin Hasselhoff. BUT, you can see on both of my visas in my passport that I am married to Iain Hasselhoff. So."

The old man looked at my passport, and I could see on his wrinkled, pompous face that my passport said TERRORIST all over it.

"But this isn't your ID then."

"Are you joking? Yes it is. It's just my maiden name."

"No. I am QUITE serious. This is not your ID then."

"What? Yes it is! That's ME. It's just my maiden name! You can see on my visa that that's my husband's last name!"

"...Well....Are the packages for your husband?"

"No. They're for me."

"Oh! Well then that's different."

"What?!"

"This isn't your ID."

"What? Are you telling me that I should have brought my marriage certificate down here?"

"If you CONTINUE to be so FACTIOUS I am going to REFUSE TO SERVE YOU."

"Oh, really? I've been trying to get this package for a WEEK and the Royal Mail and Parcel Force have been ANYTHING but helpful. I need those packages. That is MY ID."

So then the old man charged me £1 for having Parcel Force redirect both packages to my post office, and unsmiling, handed me over MY two packages.

I was so fucking mad I could have set him aflame. I didn't know what pissed me off more:

The fact that he would have given me the packages if they were for IAIN, but not for me.

Or that he got his ancient knickers in a twist because a young, American girl DARED tell him he was being ridiculous and threatened to not serve me for being FACTIOUS.

 Facetiousness is the new Terrorism, folks. Look out.

But, at the end of all that, my mama sent me some cupcake wellies from Target that I was drooling after, so, in the end, all was well.

Lesson of the day: If you're sending things internationally, use FedEx or UPS. Parcel force sucks balls of all kinds and sorts, and The Royal Mail is filled with crotchety old uptight people who will refuse you service if you don't treat them as the ALL MIGHTY MAIL GODS that they are...

**No Iain's last name is not Hasselhoff. I'm just preventing people from bombing our house and putting horse heads in our bed.

The death of the cupcake, the pimping of Scotch, and why you may need a mint - "down there"

DollyMix: Miss Scotch tells us what it's like to be a woodworking shopgirl in an male industry

http://www.dollym...

My interview with the incredibly fabulous Miss Scotch for Dollymix...

DollyMix: Miss Scotch, shopgirl extraordinaire, tells us about the trouble with saw dust...

http://www.dollym...

Part Deux of my interview with The Hotness that is known as Miss Scotch.

Just wanted to share with everyone the interview I did with our fabulous Miss Scotch on Dollymix! Read it! Support our house Shopgirl!

...And then go BUY SOME OF HER FABULOUS FURNITURE.

DailyCavity: Alas Poor Cupcake, We Knew Thee Well - Jezebel

http://jezebel.co...

The Death of the CupCake?? NEVER. Screw you, Daily Candy!

Also in the news, is the distressing report of the apparent "Death of the Cupcake" brought to you by Jezebel.

 

Now, I don't really like Jezebel for SO MANY REASONS. But I'll just keep this about the cupcakes for now.

the f-word - 'Honey! Your vagina needs a mint'

http://www.thefwo...

Absolutely brilliant article critiquing a website that lets you know if you're vagina is "normal". I died laughing.

And lastly, we have an article from the lovely ladies at The F Word, talking about a new website that lets

women critique their vagina, and helps them know if it's "normal looking".

I died laughing while reading this article, hopefully you will, too!

Be back soon with the story of how I was almost refused service at the post office for being too "factitious". Seriously.

"You've come a long way,baby"...but you've still got a long way to go.

The common argument I hear against "ranty", argumentative, bitchy feminists who rage about things such as "The Patriarchy", is that they're basically complaining about nothing. Or rather, they don't have the right to complain about "those sorts of things" because we "really don't have it that bad".

We don't have it "that bad" because we're not living in Africa, Darfur, or the Middle East.

We don't have it that bad because we're a bunch of white/privileged/upper-middle class/rich/American women, living in Western Civilizations.

We're not made to wear Burqas. We are not arrested in nightclubs for wearing a shirt that reveals our back. We don't acid thrown on us like the women we see on Oprah. We're not those women.

We can go to college. We can marry whoever we want. We can work wherever we want. We can get a divorce. We can go on the pill. We can make our own money, and wear what we want...

So we should just shut the fuck up, and stop crying into our Manolos. It's NOT THAT BAD.

I'm sorry, but this argument is fucked. Royally.

Basically, this argument just says to women, "Well, you're not struck by poverty and horrible living conditions, and you're not being raped in the jungle, so really, what the hell have you got to complain about?"

I am by no means saying that I don't have it "better" than the women in Africa and The Middle East who don't have nearly as many freedoms as I do. I think some of their living conditions and daily experiences are horrific and incredibly saddening. And at the same time I feel bad for even saying that I find their way of life "horrific" because really, some of the things we, as Western Women, find "horrific" are traditions, religions, and a heavy part of another woman's culture.

But, just how politically I don't think it's necessarily best for the Western Civilizations to bomb around telling everyone that their governments should look just like ours and function just like ours...I don't think its necessarily right to tell all other women that their religion is completely fucked, and that their lives should look just like ours.

We're all very aware of the fact that as Americans or Canadians or Europeans, our lives are freer, safer, and cleaner than the women in less fortunate situations. We know that.

But I don't think we should just shut up and love where we are because it's not as bad as elsewhere. That's like telling a woman who's husband tells her she's a fat, stupid bitch every night, that she shouldn't really complain, because at least he doesn't hit her.

When it's bad, it's bad. I don't are what level of bad you're at, once you've entered the threshold of "bad", you're in there. Sadness is sadness, no matter how deep.

Therefore, as women in the more "privileged countries",  just because we've been told we can be whoever we want to be, and do whatever we want to do...doesn't exactly mean that things are peachy fucking keen.

So please don't tell me that "We've never had it so good!" and that "You've come a long way, baby!"

Try telling that to the MILLIONS of women at this very moment, shoving their delicately manicured fingers down their throats and vomiting up their lunch.

When we clearly have an entire society built on women constantly having to improve themselves, slim down, shape up, "get a beach gorgeous bod", slice themselves open, or starve themselves skeletal, forgive me if I don't really feel like MY GOD, we have come SUCH A LONG WAY!

I mean, I can vote, why should I still have a problem!

It makes me angry, that's why I rant. And I can't help but wonder if the people who are telling us to shut up and to enjoy the freedoms that we've got, are the same people that benefit from us keeping quiet.

The women who want us to shut up because "it's not that bad" benefit from being where they are: on top. They've fought and clawed their way to the top. They've battled the patriarchy and are sitting pretty. And what's that? A bunch of younger women complaining that it's not good enough? Saying that the women on top aren't high enough, and are busy clawing their way to your post - if not higher? My god! Why WOULDN'T they want us to shut up? We might prove them wrong, be better,  perhaps even more liberated.

I think the most prevelant example of why things are a lot worse than they seem is in Courtney E Martin's book, Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters. She writes about how the women heard "you have to do everything" when our parent's told us "you can do anything". We are perfectionists, and really, I can't think of a single women I know who isn't.

They may not call themselves that, as the word "perfectionist" sounds almost as dirty as  "feminist", but the things that are inside of me -never feeling good enough, desperate need for approval, fear of failing, self-hate, etc- manifest themselves in my daily life in the form of control and perfectionism.

The same traits, even if its just one, exist in many, many women. Too many. Dare I even say millions. They may manifest themselves in other women in different ways aside from perfectionism: eating disorders, depression, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, insomnia, "food issues", distorted body image, etc...Or, they may have all of the imaginable above. It just depends.

As Martin puts it, there's a "starving daughter" in far too many of us; the starving daughter that constantly, unforgivably, reminds us that we're not perfect:

"[We] are full of self doubt. We don't want to worry so much about making other people happy but feel like we can never say thank you enough times, never show enough humility, never help enough, never feel enough shame. We feel guilty. we fear conflict. We are dramatic, sensitive, injured easily. we are clinging to all kinds of attachments that , in our minds, we know we should let go of, but in our bodies, we feel incapable of relinquishing. We are self-pitying, sad, even depressed. We are tired of trying so hard all the time."

Does this hit uncomfortably home for anyone else?

Maybe my views on feminism and women are warped. Maybe I think I am more like other women than I really am. Maybe I am just in line with the fucked up few who feel like this, or partly like this...

But I highly doubt that I am. THIS is what is wrong with our society, and with the brilliant, talented, beautiful young women who EVERY DAY tell themselves that they aren't beautiful enough. Smart enough. Thin enough. Or perfect enough to be worthy for your love, praise, and attention.

The Guardian ran a piece a couple months ago called "We've never had it so good" where Louise Carpenter talked the women of today who are "unburdened by responsibility" and "are experiencing true economic, emotional and sexual freedom". Though she admits her research was "hardly scientific, nor was it socially or economically comprehensive, since I concentrated mainly on women with degrees" she quickly dismisses the impact that has on her findings: "nevertheless it revealed something quite startling".

The only thing I felt was "startling" about her findings were the women she interviewed that clearly lived in some sort of obscure fucked-up Candy Land.

She interviewed women who are all going to universities, all have between "£500 - £1,000" free spending money a month (because THAT'S so normal) and who clearly haven't slummed it any way shape or form at any point in their lives.

Are these the sort of women who are going to complain about the injustices in our society? Um, no. They're the perfect examples of why we shouldn't complain, and they have all the right answers to prove it:

"Intelligence and humour were considered overall more important than looks. They all articulated the importance of feeling sexy over looking sexy, although they made the connection between the two. All thought the size-zero issue was ridiculous and had only vaguely dieted (although none, interestingly, were above a size 12 and most were a 10). Cosmetic surgery was not seen as a real option although I got the impression 'work' for a few of them might at some stage incorporate Botox."

See? Perfect! Those are the girls who are "too good" to get eating disorders. They know better than that, right? One girl in the interview admitted to needing therapy halfway through college because the pressure go to be too much, but that was easily brushed over with more praise and statistics proving that girl power has prevailed, and that since all these women were doing so well, what's the point of feminism?

The more I read through this article the more the women she was interviewing sounded like the Stepford Girls:

"There's no doubt that there is now more pressure than ever to succeed,' il: 'At school and university, it was no longer enough to simply be academically successful.The twentysomething women I know aren't bothered about old-style feminism. We're not interested in trying to feel "empowered", partly because we see ourselves as equal to men now: we can work, vote, sleep around, all without anyone barely batting an eyelid."

REALLY? You can sleep around without anyone barely batting an eyelid? Who do you know? Where are these people? And what fucking drugs are you on??

I love the "we're not interested in feeling empowered" bit. I wonder why she feels that there is so much pressure on her, and what she does and thinks behind closed doors. Where does that pressure come from? Hmmmm sister? Probably just from yourself. And I wonder what she would say if she was asked if she thought her male counterparts had to work as hard as she did?

"In some ways that's liberating, but at the same time it's as if we've become suffocated by choice: we have nothing to complain about and nothing left to fight for. We don't have to get married to survive, and if we do we can get divorced if it doesn't work out how we hoped. Men now take a substantial share of domestic responsibility and much more of a role in child-rearing. My career choices as a woman starting out on the ladder are endless."

Yup! You're right. Everything is just PERFECT HERE. This girl has it all figured out. I'm just wondering what society it is that she lives in because I think that there are PLENTY of people that would disagree with her.

Oh, but then we have the statistics to show us that SEE? Women are doing so well! Never mind that we're fucking killing ourselves to get there, by god,  just look at our dazzling statistics!

33 is the average age for women to get married. Twenty years ago, it was 26.

(Thank god. Marriage rots your brain.)

3x- likelihood of British men to commit suicide, as compared with women.

(Great! We're killing ourselves less! That's swell!)

26 is the average age for women to have children. In 1971 it was 23.

(Thank god. Babies rot your brain. Plus, who has time to have babies? You're too busy BEING PERFECT.)

40% of professional jobs in UK are held by women.

(FORTY??? FORTY PERCENT??? Yeah. That's definitely something TO FUCKING CELEBRATE. Way to look at the glass half full, bitch.)

20% of young women break the government's alcohol limits.

(Well thank god. There's nothing worse than young women drinking more than a pint of cider. They get out. of. control.)

Carpenter closes her article by saying, "The future is bright and it is female. Maybe it is the poor, confused young men we should be worried about."

She's just wrong on so many levels, it hurts me.

Maybe there is a group of delusional women *cough CAITLIN FLANAGAN cough* who wander around pretending that things are swell and we can do whatever we want whilst those other women of the world starve themselves, throw up their food, check themselves in and out of therapy, and continue to feel disgusted with themselves for not being perfect...but I'm sure as fuck not one of them.

And I doubt I'm alone on this one. The political IS the personal. If the US government chipping away at women's right to control their bodies doesn't scare you, it should. If you think the situation of "the blonde girl with big tits and a small IQ getting promoted before you" doesn't exist, think again. Because it sure as fuck does.

Abortion is a real issue. Body image is a real issue. Perfectionism and depression exist, and they don't just happen to weak, broken girls. Rape doesn't just happen in Darfur and in Lifetime movies.

You can continue to hide under your Kate Moss for Topshop dress and pretend it doesn't, and pretend that feminism is unneeded and unwanted, and continue to tell us that we don't have it that bad...

But while you're doing that, we'll continue to rant, and rage, and act, and write, and Bitch and Bust about it until you can't ignore us any more.

I am a young, privileged, white American woman. I am intelligent. I have a loving husband. I have a wonderful home. I have a family that loves me. I am beautiful. I am thin. I have and make my own money. I do what I love for a living...

I have a depressive disorder that I will carry the rest of my life. I have been sexually harassed. I have been emotionally abused. I have been in unhealthy relationships. In my short lifetime, I have made myself throw up food. I have a self-inflicted scar on my left wrist.  I have been to therapy, and probably will go again in the future. I have body image issues. I have issues with food. 

Because of all this, I know that feminism is important.

I know that from the outside looking in, I shouldn't have a worry in the world. But on the inside looking out, I feel my pain. I can see pain in other women.

And that is why I rage. Because I am beautiful, and I so want to believe that. I have to know that one day I can say that, and mean it. Mean every single letter. And until then, I will fight. And I will continue fighting until I know that every little girl and every young woman and every old woman can say it and mean it too.

If that's not something to fight for, I don't know what is.