Role models
People of blogdom, I’m as excited as a rabid flea! well, as jaded and unenthusiastic me can be: Margaret Cho is coming to London! As I was striding into my favourite café I spotted an A3 poster advertising her upcoming ‘state of emergency’ tour; it was tucked under the staircase between vegan lesbian flatsharing and crunchy home-made granola adverts, so I wonder what the turnout will be. Of course she is virtually unknown in this country, so just as well I’ll be there in my lamé dress throwing my chones underwear at her. (see footnote #1) In the little blurb I noticed she was cleverly reinvented as a lesbian activist by her PR people. How opportunistic. Still, I’ll be there; come to London, I’ll put you up, I have a futon.

---

I saw Bridget Jones being on the edge of reason today.
I know.
The synopsis goes like this: Bridget repeatedly shoots herself in the foot when around object of affection, (figuratively, it’s not a western), conveniently doesn’t remember that it’s a bad idea to carry fertility statuettes for men met when travelling in Thailand, soon finds that Thai jails are pretty fun places to hang out that and all the girls just dance around singing Madonna songs and share boyfriend stories and satin wonderbras. Then heroin is saved by boring, poker-in-the-arse but big earner lawyer boyfriend, and the film culminates in, what else, a marriage proposal, because that’s all that we should aspire to. Yes, internet, since you ask, I managed to switch off the cynical filter long enough to laugh and actually enjoy the film. With the exception of the marriage proposal. Cinematic marriage proposals and their implications invariably make me cringe, slow poison that they are!
Margaret Cho will work fine as my antidote.

---

Footnote #1 : to be added later. Good night.