hmm. well. what would shakira make of this. and indeed, do we care

i don't mention my friends here, because i don't feel it's really my place to. only about two of them know that this blog exists, so were i to be yammering on carrie style about who did what to thingy in whahoojima and why, it would be a little distasteful. i don't talk about my friends behind their backs, and writing about them here definitely counts as "talking".

but it depends, i suppose, upon the parameters, doesn't it. the context. and with that in mind, let's talk about... yeah. vampires.

my friends are, without exception, feisty ladies. they might strike you as the quiet girl, the friendly girl, the married lady, the professional powerhouse, the teen mum, the society grand dame, the butter wouldn't melt martial artist... and to say that we merely have fondness for wine and, like, shoes in common does us disservice. you know how this works. you know who you click with. you know who skitters just outside your circle, those who you talk to every day, maintain a friendly and/or professional rapport with, but you know you could never find yourself saying, to this person, say, in context, the words "anal monkey bartering" at 3am after 23 units of alcohol, a 20 minute giggling fit, 45 minutes of introspective tearfulness and two tubes of chillicheese pringles. you have to go with your gut there.

we're a mixed bunch, but somehow cohesive. i might even go so far as to say that we, each of us, dabble in feminism... but i would probably have to chair a three day summit in order to define where exactly our particular branch of feminism lies, to explore the roots of it. is it nurtured? is it reactionary? why are we waxing? which do we hate more- the patriachy or grazia?

but there seems to be one common chink in the armour of our righteous sense of fairytale averse scepticism, however. and that would be twilight, the perennial guilty secret.

i'm the only one on team jacob. and more anon.






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