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Dear son, don’t let Robin Thicke be a lesson to you

~ susanhayden ~ 1 Comment

This piece sums up so many of my thoughts as I watched Miley on that stage, but somehow the fact that the outrage comes from a guy gives it that much more weight. Love this blog.

The Matt Walsh Blog's avatarThe Matt Walsh Blog

***Update, August 1: In response to the thousands of people who, after reading this entire post, decided to harp on one single phrase (“I’m no feminist”), I wrote this. If you want to know how I can say all the things I say here, yet still reject “feminism,” click the link and I’ll explain. Otherwise, carry on. Thanks for stopping by.

Our country dangles on the precipice of starting a third World War. We are on the verge of a completely unnecessary conflict where the United States will fight along side Al Qaeda and the Muslim Brotherhood. This, in another day and age, might earn the crown as the Most Controversial Story of the Week. But we’re in the year 2013, and this is America, so a young pop star’s dance moves on an MTV awards show have predictably overshadowed the prospect of global chaos and bloodshed. I wrote…

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I get that there are people who don’t like Facebook, but don’t bring them to my house.

~ susanhayden ~ 1 Comment

I get that there are people who don’t like Facebook, like there are people who don’t like wine and chocolate and small, furry animals. But don’t bring them to my house. Because Facebook is, frankly, one of the best things god ever invented. People will say of other people – okay, me- she’s on Facebook a LOT. Like she’s on crack cocaine a LOT, or slapping her children a LOT when what ‘she’ is actually doing a lot is interacting with the world. Yes, the world.

There is no greater source of useful information than Facebook, topping google by a prettttty long margin because while google can tell me about stuff I know nothing about, Facebook fills in the gaps of the things I do. Like that seventies song, it colours my world. An example: while I know my ex-boyfriend married a model from Estonia, the best google can do is tell me where Estonia is. Facebook, on the other hand, is the true friend that tells me her ears are quite sticky-outy. And a girl needs to know these things.

I mean, isn’t it a beautiful thing seeing the nerdy guy from high school who no girl would touch with a barge pole go on to head the plastic surgery division of a major university hospital (bet he’s laughing now), or the beautiful girl who was shitty to everyone develop thighs the size of a church door? Maybe I’m unnaturally curious about people and their lives, but it’s immensely interesting to me that someone I once worked with married a gazonkazillionaire and is on honeymoon in St Barts; my next-door-neighbour from childhood has four beautiful daughters and a guy I once kissed at a party is running an ashram in North India.

And I fail to understand how social media could possibly make us antisocial. I’m in contact with waaaaay more people than I would normally be on a daily basis. I engage with people all over the continent, from different walks of life, and the overriding sense is of our sameness; our commonalities. I don’t go on Facebook instead of going out. No-one stays home from parties to post status updates. You post a pic of your drink, and then you go and talk to real people. Maybe some people are content to interact only with the three people in their immediate vicinity; can’t be arsed to take pictures of their dinner and think all this nattering about nothing is a big old waste of time. But frankly I think they’re pretty boring.

5 Reasons why women should be allowed to take a second husband

~ susanhayden ~ 7 Comments

So, I’ve had this great idea. Admittedly, it’s a bit ‘out there’, but hear me out – by the end of it, you too will be convinced. I think it would cut the divorce rate dramatically if women were allowed to take a second husband. Now, I know a lot of you who already have husbands will think, ohmygod, are you kidding? I don’t even want the one I have. But wait. There are some very good reasons why two men could potentially be better than one, and here are some I can think of right now.

1. Women are exhausting
Oh, come on – we are. Alright, let me speak for myself. I never stop talking. I’m one of those people who feel the need to express every thought that comes into my head. I find my own theories on life fascinating, but would I like to live with me? Hell, no. But imagine if, at any given time, there were two men to listen. They could do it in relays – one in his man-cave recovering, one in the kitchen being attentive and engaged. I’m not even going to go into PMS and that whole changing our minds by the nanosecond thing. It’s just not fair to expect one man to take all of this on. But if they shared their husbandly duties they wouldn’t have to walk around looking so down-trodden and, well, exhausted all the time. Problem solved!

2. Women are poor
I know there are women who are CEOs of things and earn fortunes, but in my personal circle – for reasons in no way related to our brilliance – our earning potential is pretty crap. It’s just the way of the world. And yet (gotta love our optimism) the amount of money we earn in no way corresponds to the amount of money we spend. This is where it makes a lot of sense to introduce another income (a nice, manly one) into the household. More shopping = more joy. Then we wouldn’t have to knock a digit off the price of that completely unnecessary top we just bought or pretend we’ve had it for yeeeeears. It’s the perfect way to end that marital discussion once and for all.

3. Variety is the spice of life
I don’t need to elaborate on this one.

4. They could be friends
Instead of having to watch the news/hear about the share market/pretend to care about the clangy noise his car’s making, he’d have a built-in buddy to share these important aspects of his life with, leaving you free to enjoy endless episodes of The Kardashians/update your status/phone a friend about those cool shoes you saw at Zara. So, rather than tearing his hair out in frustration at your incessant demands, the two of them could go somewhere and drink beer and get it all off their chests.

5. We’d be doubly adored
My need for love and affirmation is like a bottomless pit, while my husband is quite satisfied with the odd shag and me not being excessively unreasonable. Now, this is a problematic discrepancy in our (and I think many) relationships. It’s beyond his comprehension that I require so much, well, input, and I understand that. So, just give me another one to fill in the gaps and everyone will be happy. My husband will have loads of spare time to do things other than adoring me, and I’ll be overjoyed with all that surplus love. If one ou isn’t in the mood for snuggling, you just get the other one. When it comes to Important Anniversaries, your chances of getting a small black box are instantly doubled. And if all one guy wants to do is aim a remote at the TV screen and pretend he doesn’t exist, the other one can take you for sushi and a small boogie on the town. Now, how could this scenario be anything but awesome?

No, I can’t bring a fucking salad. Or, when B.Y.O. goes O.T.T.

~ susanhayden ~ 5 Comments

A while ago I was invited to a 40th birthday celebration by a kind-of friend. She had rented a hall, and the invitation read ‘bring your own meat ‘n booze’ and then, beneath the picture of a disco ball and a couple dancing, a request in small print that everyone bring along ‘a salad of (our) choice.’ A salad of our choice? That we have to make? Are you kidding me? I thought BYO meat was a bit cheeky, but a side dish? Okay, that’s just rude. How about I bring my own chair to sit in, cutlery and the fridge? Or, how about I just don’t come.

Thing is, past a certain age that starts with an ‘f’, a major incentive to finding a sitter, paying said sitter and standing around in heels all night is the fact that I don’t have to drive to the supermarket and drag two bored children around the meat aisle. I don’t have to slice cucumber, toast seeds or make vinaigrette because you, the host, have presumably done this for me. It’s what is called ‘hosting.’ And that’s what is in it for me.

Yes, I get to drink wine and make conversation, but that I can do in the comfort of my own kitchen and what’s more I can wear slippers. But make me bring everything I’m going to eat and drink, and I’m not going to come to your party. Now, I understand not everybody can afford to feed and water 50 guests so, by all means, let us bring wine, and lots of it. I’ll even throw in a bottle of Jose Cuervo to get the party started. But you have known for, well, forty years that this occasion was imminent, so maybe you should have put some of that Guess jeans money aside so that we, your friends, didn’t have to cater for your party.

I am all for entertaining having become more casual. If we still – god forbid – had to come up with three courses plus canapés we would never, ever see our friends. I say, bring on the braais, the curries, the takeaway pizzas – anything that does away with undue hassle and stress. But if you decide you want to host something, get into the goddamn kitchen.