I've realised that girls fall into three karaoke camps. Those who can actually bloody sing and everyone is really really jealous of. Those who refuse to do something as silly as karaoke and sulk in the corner, and then there's the other camp. The camp which I believe both of your lovely Dollymix editors fall into. The "I'm not singing! No! Not singing!...oooh cocktails... Give me the microphone, it's MY solo!" camp. So, do you karaoke?
I'm terrified of the dentist. Absolutely terrified. It took a kick up the ass (in email form) from fellow editor Robyn to convince me to go when I had toothache a little while ago. I actually cried in the dentist's chair. But in reality, things were much better than I'd imagined they would be. And this is often the case. But the fact is, women aren't forward about going to see a health professional and explaining their problems. We'll often do what we can to avoid it. And I don't think that this is entirely our fault.
I bet you can't watch that video without singing. (I can't even watch it without imagining myself doing high kicks and pirouettes but that's another story). Yes, the video is shoddy, but damn it was a good film with the best soundtrack ever. And if you're free on Sunday, you can join Denise Van Outen in her Fame re-enactment in central London. There's nothing about this event that doesn't make me smile.
This last couple of days, I've had pretty awful PMT. I cried at One Tree Hill for goodness sake. And honestly, I'm just feeling a little bit down in the dumps. Robyn wrote a little while ago about the evil PMT monster rearing its ugly head, but what do you do when you're feeling sorry for yourself? What do you do to give yourself a little pick-me up?
The Guardian are getting their feministy knickers in a twist. Again. This time they're having a pop at Rebekah Wade for choosing to take her husband's name when she got married. She's Rebekah Brooks now, but according to Michele Hanson, she's "letting down thousands of women". Er, why exactly? What's wrong with taking your husband's name when you get married?
It's safe to say I'm fairly well stacked in the breast department. And I think that's a good thing! I'm not adverse to wearing low cut tops and showing off 'the girls'. But here's the thing. Whilst I think there's a difference between an appreciative glance and blatant leering, I don't think you can blame a guy for staring at your tits if your top is nearly down to your belly button.
That Tampax Pearl advert is really getting my goat at the moment. What's the heck is it on about? "I invented pearl!" "Not that pearl, this pearl!" What? Erm... I'm confused. Not only confused, but really really bored of 'lady adverts'. Why are they so patronising?
You may have noticed that Dollymix comments aren't working at the moment.
The Dollymix monkeys are tinkering behind the scenes as I type, with chisels and hammers and all sorts (we pay them in licorice) so the comments should be working again soon.
In the meantime, if you want to sound off, just email me and Sian, and you can follow us both on Twitter, too.
Earlier this week, a group of girls had a conversation on Twitter about first dates. Granted it would have been better placed in a bar with enough white wine to block out our most embarrassing moments, but there was a general consensus: They're usually AWFUL. But why is that first date so bad?
I've realised that girls fall into three karaoke camps. Those who can actually bloody sing and everyone is really really jealous of. Those who refuse to do something as silly as karaoke and sulk in the corner, and then there's the other camp. The camp which I believe both of your lovely Dollymix editors fall into. The "I'm not singing! No! Not singing!...oooh cocktails... Give me the microphone, it's MY solo!" camp. So, do you karaoke?
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