BeMused

*** WARNING - THIS POST CONTAINS SEX AND THE CITY SPOILERS AND STRONG OPINIONS ***
There are days when I seriously question if I have been given the right XX chromosomes and nothing like a few hours spent at the movies to reaffirm my doubts. Admittedly, the only reason I was sitting in the theatre surrounded by numerous excited females about to watch Sex and the City was because my mother had asked me to accompany her.

And so we went, not as a group of girlfriends dressed to the nines, looking for a post movie dissertation  over a few Cosmopolitans. There were no girlie discussions either. She had a fabulous time. I, on the other hand, was far too engrossed in analysis to enjoy escapism of the lavish kind.

I am not a devoted fan. I have watched the show intermittently over the years but could not relate or empathise with any of the characters. And now that these women are into their forties, I had better expectations than the mere mention of Botox, the use of reading glasses and wincing at the star actress’ skeletal frame.

When Big turned away from the church leaving disappointment and anger in his wake, I felt nothing for Carrie. At her stage in life, she behaved like a selfish young brat who became ever so self-absorbed in the Big wedding and the Big dress and the Big reception that it highlighted her Big ‘me’ complex that pushed the groom into the background.

As for the other characters, they perpetuated more fairy tales for the older girl’s fantasies. Apparently, infidelity and a break of trust can be easily restored without identifying and fixing the underlying problems. Mending a broken marriage is as easy as Miranda and Steve meeting on a bridge and never looking back.

Another fallacy come fantasy was the notion that when 40+ women who have endured the trials of infertility adopt a child and stop trying, they will magically fall pregnant without any concern for abnormalities or miscarriages. Whatever happy drugs Charlotte was taking throughout the movie lent kudos to the lack of credibility.

But the biggest girl empowerment moment of all was delivered by Samantha, who preferred buying her own expensive jewellery than receiving it as a thoughtful gift from her partner. “I love you but I love myself more” is the new black for single girls looking for an excuse to remain single.

For a hyped-up chick flick with flamboyant fashions and multiple product placements, I fell in love with the city of New York. I marvelled at the beauty of the sights throughout the seasons. Besides, it must be a fabulous place if a girl alone on New Year’s Eve can traipse around safely in high heels along the subway and snow covered footpaths.

The storyline may have reminded me of the reasons I left fairy tales behind at the age of seven but with  poorly structured dialogue, little wonder my favourite line was delivered by feisty Miranda upon arrival at the Mexican resort, “Do you have wifi?”

The movie was much like the designer heels, flashy, pretty on the eyes, but oh-so-painful to walk in their 9 inch shoes. And it left me with a feeling much like Carrie’s coveted wardrobe, empty.

Dear Andrew

I don’t know who you are and who you represent but you didn’t make an impression. You came to me for an interview, and looked rather impressive in your business suit, confident, smiling and not too cocky. You sat down in my office as I had instructed. Then when I introduced you to my team for that all important interview, and the guest interviewer was a woman from hell, that was your cue to say something instead of looking around for someone else to take over. If you wanted a role on my team, you had to be vocal and stand up to that corporate witch. And when I directed questions at you, and called you repeatedly by name, you should have sold yourself instead of looking around like a lost puppy.

Therefore I inform you that you have not been successful for the position. Shame, you would have made good eye candy, albeit a bit too young eye candy for my liking. I wish you well and hope you grow up into something more since looks alone wrapped in a business suit don’t make a man.

Yours Sincerely
Ms Cléa B. Mused
Director
cbmused dot com

PS But you’re welcome back into my dreams anytime. Next time say something more than just your name, will you?

The road ahead projects onto an unfamiliar vista, a vast expanse with a stretch of highway adorned with random patches of colour. The view in the rear view mirror is omnipresent with grey, the odd rumble of thunder punctuated with intermittent flashes that bring a focused light into the present.

The wheels of the time machine chug along, rolling over new bitumen and the odd affirming bump. The density of the rear clouds masks long forgotten summers. Amidst that rear fog, tiny rainbows and ephemeral summers appear.

With a firm grasp of the wheel and eyes pointed forward, the time machine continues its linear journey, pausing occasionally to refuel and recycle from past energies.

Far too many people go through life with clouds of anger over their heads, waiting for the first chance to strike at others. Be it is road rage, angry help desk calls, endless unresolved complaints or being undermined at work, people are often on edge, ready to hurl abuse and violence towards others.

There can only be one reason. They are not getting enough sex.

This week I had the misfortune of enduring a nasty situation where an irate woman continuously spat venom at me and refused to allow me to speak. The result was a shouting match where I had no choice but to stoop to her childish tactics by yelling over her voice like the hormonal witch she was, which only served to irate her further.

It wasn’t a work situation. It wasn’t a pram pusher getting a vantage spot at a crowded café - though it happens - or a 4WD/SUV driver hogging the road. She claimed to be in charge and when she realised she had been incompetent in her actions, she resorted to yelling at me, the customer, who had invested a substantial sum in the company’s product.

I hated having to retaliate by copying her behaviour. I despised her existence for bringing out the worst in me. I was furious at the cloud of anger she had passed onto me when I carry clearer skies. Though I yelled over her voice and finished by belittling her position in the company, I did not resort to name calling. But my fist was in the air and my inner bitch was shouting, “Fuck you!”, all for a good reason.

There are merits in giving someone the finger, and yelling out the ubiquitous insult. Not only for the feel-good retaliative factor but you could be doing them a favour by passing on the right message. Have sex. And have more sex. And if you’re not sure what is enough, then have some more you f@$%^&* idiot sh%^&*of a b(&^%$#!!!

Nothing like a good prick to that bubble of anger over their heads to give them the release they so desperately need.

One
The Good: Excitedly putting Max to use and starting to back up all your bits and mega bites onto your sexy black 750GB external hard drive.
The Bad: Realising that you should have bought Max Plus because the damn thing won’t back up any system files or your Microsoft Outlook file. He might boast about his size but he’s all show.
The Geeky: Installing the back up software that came with your old and trusted 200GB and kicking Max’s arse with it.

Two
The Good: After 3.1 years and counting, the old PDA still doing its job, though it is now retired to more relaxed duties such as accessing wifi in bed.
The Bad: The battery discharging completely and on hard reboot, getting stuck in an endless screen alignment loop for days.
The Geeky: Finally stroking him in the right spot, yes, that was a little below and to the left, and making sure he stays turned powered on.

Three
The Good: Downloading the latest firmware for your modem. Backing up your current configuration in readiness, including taking screen shots of every page.
The Bad: Clicking ‘Restore from back up’ instead of ‘Firmware Upgrade’ and watching your modem die a thousand deaths.
The Geeky: Remembering there was a good reason for keeping the old working modem and not giving it away.

Four
The Good: Getting back online quickly with the old modem so you can figure out how to fix your fried modem.
The Bad: Not getting anywhere fast with finding fixes as you use both laptop and desktop concurrently.
The Geeky: Realising that the only reason you upgraded to a new modem was to get ADSL2 speed but the exercise confirmed there was no difference whatsoever, therefore saving you money on a potential replacement.

Five
The Good: Delivering the penultimate coup de grace to Lazarus, by attempting to reformat his hard drive and doing a clean xp install so you can install that one piece of must-have (potentially dodgy) software for a once-off use.
The Bad: The bloody thing crashing repeatedly as it boots, and when it does seem like it’s booting from the CD, it takes you straight into Windows instead of the installation screen.
The Geeky: Delivering the ultimate coup de grace. Um… Soon. After I perform open heart surgery for that one-more-time-in-case.

Six
The Good: Getting new inspirations just from using your sexy laptop.
The Bad: Discovering that its battery lifespan has more than halved, and with Lazarus out of the picture, you have nothing left as a back up PC - PDAs and Smartphones excluded.
The Geeky: Getting a damn good deal on a brand new hot portable model with a battery life of 11 hours.

Seven
The Good: Performing open heart surgery on Lazarus and cleaning out so much dust that when you switch him back on he didn’t whir and winge and allowed you to install (potentially dodgy) software while disconnecting from the internet and switching virus protection off.
The Bad: Software insisting you connect to the internet and possibly giving you a time bomb.
The Geeky: The sobering realisation that if Lazarus was just dust-infected, you would own a desktop and 2 laptops but can only use 2 hands at a time.