Lady readers! I must apologise for my absence of late. I've been incredibly busy drafting A Year off the Ward, which looks set to be published but only on the condition that I first pen a serious exploration of the dumbest jobs for women in the UK. I know what you’re thinking
“This is Posie Rider- a middle to upper-middle class urban haute bourgeois lady writer with a trust fund large enough to purchase a small African country- why would she be writing an article on air-head jobs for women?”
Well readers, that’s kind of the point. The piece is designed to be incredibly shocking, namely because of my hostile reaction to employment opportunities miles beneath my superior intellect. For instance last week I spent a whole three days working in a ‘PR’ company in the ‘HR’ department, which mainly consisted of me ordering Marks and Spencer’s mince pies online and emptying packets of ready salted crisps into little bowls to go with the ‘dress-down Friday’ bar that opens each…Friday. God it was hell. My incredible brain hadn’t been so distressed since I got a B in my Art A-level. Those of you who have had the honour of seeing my incredible artistic offerings on this blog will know that such a claim is totally unfounded and the equivalent of stealing an ice-cream from a small child playing in the sunshine and possibly flashing your genitalia at her: perverted and wrong.
This week I’ve been working in an supposed ‘organic’ kitchen, which I thought would be a more pleasant pursuit, but how wrong I was (my toilet cleaner is more organic than the contents of their culinary offerings). When embarking upon a recipe for Sorrel, Leak and Venison soup I was rudely told to put down my chopping knife and start preparing some egg and cress sandwiches. Egg and cress sandwiches! This was a shop on the high street in Holborn (I sought a position in Borough Market but needless to say there were none available - sigh) but even in this run down cafe I was most shocked by the substandard eating habits of the masses. Next week I’m going to be a receptionist at a hair salon where, in order to fully embrace the role, I am required to peruse those awful publications that go by the name of Heat and Grazia.
However, once again (as with most of my literary purists) I do all this all in the name of great art. For upon completing this terrible article I have been guaranteed publication of my ground-breaking A Year off the Ward.
I (often) feel like a female Jesus! It really is too too much to bear the weight on womankind, and yet I go on... Toodles! x
My nemesis, the so-called 'scientist' (science-tit more like) David Buss has decided to compile all his stupid ideas into one book for our reading pleasure. It's a work upon why women want sex, and Dave really knows what he's talking about. Tanya Gold reviewed it in The Guardian.
"Then I learn why women marry accountants; it's a trade-off. "Clooneyish" men tend to be unfaithful, because men have a different genetic agenda from women – they want to impregnate lots of healthy women. Meston and Buss call them "risk-taking, womanising 'bad boys'". So, women might use sex to bag a less dazzling but more faithful mate. He will have fewer genetic benefits but more resource benefits that he will make available, because he will not run away. This explains why women marry accountants. Accountants stick around – and sometimes they have tiny little feet!"
As ridiculous as Dave's theory may seem - I can't help but think there's an element of truth behind it. My past experience with 'bad boys' aka Gerald (although actually just a whiny sack of congealed chauvinistic gunk) and 'bad girls' aka Ann (although actually just a chav) has shown that they were not faithful mates to me. Maybe it's time I skulked around the Men's shoe department in Harrods on the look out for a man with size six feet? Or stand dressed like a prostitute outside KPMG?
Basically the possibilities are endless- thanks Dave! Oh how I'd love to shove a vagina cake in your mouth and watch you choke. But that not being an option (because I don't know where you live YET) let's move on to explore Dave's other really insightful observations about the opposite sex:
"And so to the main reason women have sex. The idol of "women do it for love, and men for joy" lies broken on the rug like a mutilated sex toy: it's orgasm, orgasm, orgasm. "A lot of women in our studies said they just wanted sex for the pure physical pleasure," Meston says. Meston and Buss garnish this revelation with so much amazing detail that I am distracted. I can't concentrate. Did you know that the World Health Organisation has a Women's Orgasm Committee? That "the G-spot" is named after the German physician Ernst Gräfenberg? That there are 26 definitions of orgasm?"
OK the last part is quite interesting (Meston is Buss's 'female co-writer', although is probably non-existent- a construct designed to confound women and make them buy the book. If she is real she's probably an illegal immigrant!)
"And so, to the second most important reason why women have sex – love. "Romantic love," Meston and Buss write, "is the topic of more than 1,000 songs sold on iTunes." And, if people don't have love, terrible things can happen, in literature and life: "Cleopatra poisoned herself with a snake and Ophelia went mad and drowned." Women say they use sex to express love and to get it, and to try to keep it."
I'm sorry Dave but that ^ is definitely NOT true.
"Meston and Buss also explain why the girls in my class at school went down like dominoes in 1990. One week we were maidens, the following week, we were not. We were, apparently, having sex to see if we liked it, so we could tell other schoolgirls that we had done it and to practise sexual techniques: "As a woman I don't want to be a dead fish," says one female. Another interviewee wanted to practise for her wedding night."
This is not the 19th century, stupid women! Although they're probable friends with Dave which explains why they're incredibly stupid.
Yes, upon reflection, I remember that awful summer when every single girl at Our Burning Infant Hearts Primary School lost their virginity in the graveyard. I was the only one who didn't. Not because I was a feminist at the time you understand, but because I was writing my precocious historical work; 'Eleanor of Aquitaine: A Life in Haiku'. All my life history is revealed in my upcoming work 'Posie Rider: A Year Off the Ward' published by WPR Books, in which I cover my time and school and psychoanalyse myself to buggery in an attempt to stay sane.
Back to Dave and the part where he really excels himself:
"Women also mate to get the things they think they want – drugs, handbags, jobs, drugs. "The degree to which economics plays out in sexual motivations," Buss says, "surprised me. Not just prostitution. Sex economics plays out even in regular relationships. Women have sex so that the guy would mow the lawn or take out the garbage. You exchange sex for dinner." He quotes some students from the University of Michigan. It is an affluent university, but 9% of students said they had "initiated an attempt to trade sex for some tangible benefit"."
Would these kind of books ever be written about men? I know plenty of intellectual artistic types of males with lawyer girlfriends to keep them afloat. Indeed having a giant trust fund and a family heritage stretching back to the Norman Conquest, I too have had to bare the brunt of men only after me for my good looks and cash. I fight them off on a regular basis, if not with my copy of Simone de Beauvoir then with my sheer intelligence, which I can tell you now, most of them seem unable to handle.
Men sleep around for self-gain just as much as women, in fact I think they may do it more often. If you think about a successful ugly man wanting a pretty (dumb) girlfriend odds are its in order to improve his image. Now that's worse than just wanting economic independence like Virginia Woolf or Coco Chanel. That's buying someone's body and selling your own soul in exchange for improved self-image.
Be damned! Flees flea say I!
So inspired by Dave's miraculous study I have decided to write my own faux scientific pamphlet entitled:
"Dorian's Lay: How men sell their silly souls for sex" by Posie Rider.
Plus I'm all over this Dave Buss character like a rash... I'm going to tell him exactly what I think...
Critics and academics throw all kinds of terms around - writer, lady-writer, feminist, post-feminist, journo, hack - I've heard them all, but I prefer to call myself 'woman' or 'Posie Rider', because that's my name.
You will no doubt recognise me as the famous author of The Suffragettes - Why? and the groundbreaking novel Me, Tim and my Quim. That's probably why you've stumbled upon this blog and want to hear my thoughts on Feminism, Literature and Herstory. But being this intelligent hasn't been easy: I've lived through Merlot fuelled nights and had my share of ink stained hands, sex and prescription drugs, but all that's kept me going is the power of words to change the world - forever!
I'm delighted to be attending the SoundEye poetry festival in Cork, Ireland 13-17th July, not least because I will be running my mouth (professionally, as a poet) but because some of my favourite writers will be attending! Hurrah!
Tom Raworth got stuck in the snow, but Justin Katko stepped up to read with nick-e melville, Sophie Stamina and myself on December 3rd in the City Art Centre, Edinburgh. The event was organised by the gorgeous Colin Herd (deets on Anything.Anymore.Anywhere. HERE. ) and we should expect more from this joyous reading series/journal.
Didn't everyone love Openned? On the 27th October 2010, at the Corsica Studios, we all won poetry!
I was overjoyed to be invited to read at the Scree 2 launch in Edinburgh on 15th September 2010. Read a review here! -
A big thank you to those of you who attended a reading of my poetry with other Freak Lung contributers, in honour of Barry McSweeney at the Morton Tower in Newcastle on Sunday 27th June.
Keep updated as to my Posie movements at posierider @ gmail.com !
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Translate: Pankhurst as Classic De Beauvoir as Hot, Hot, Hot! Boycott as A Whole Load of Wank.
See how I restructure your desires? Not so hard, is it? Click away sisters!