Thursday, April 3

3 Fun and Easy Ways to make Social Media Managers Hate You

You might think a big business’ social media just happens, like rain or Saw sequels. But there are thousands of disgruntled Humanities majors who got swept up into the role of brand bitch social media manager because their life’s biggest achievement is their facebook profile, and that’s something you can put on a CV now.

Here’s how to make them hate you.

#1: Assume the social staff own the company

CEOs spent their time racing radio controlled sharks and rolling gold blunts, right? Wrong. They’re painstakingly replying to every single dumb question on their company’s facebook page.



#2: Be in a demographic that can’t spell

I’ve worked on brands who try to speak to the youth of the world by saying ‘da’ instead of ‘the’. Sadly, these brands often have no idea how anyone actually talks, so writing with their style feels less like a dialect and more like a speech impediment. 



#3: Be a sore loser. And a sore winner.

Brands love running contests, it’s the easiest way to get the unwashed masses valued consumers to engage with them.

Sadly, most people who enter contests on social media are not usually… well… they’re not the kind of people you’d nominate to be humanity’s ambassadors to an alien race. Unless the aliens came over because they heard Human Nuggets were delicious and nutritious.

Sore losers love to cry foul because no fair and just universe would keep them apart from that random thing they want for free.



And if you think losers are bad, you should see the winners

Never like your own post. It's like high-fiving yourself in the mirror while taking a selfie.


And here's a pro tip if these don't work: if you really, really want to make a social media manager hate you, just remind them that they'll probably never make a living from their scathingly witty blog. :(


Thursday, February 20

"How dare she be fat and unashamed?" A note to haters.

Today, this showed up in my facebook feed:


Here's the criminally accepting post: "It's okay to be fat. No, really." by the beautiful Tess Munster.

I see body-positive posts in my news feed now and then, and it's nice. The comments, however, are not usually that nice.

It wasn't long before a comment sprung up that said, "But being fat really is unhealthy!" 

The comment thread went downhill almost immediately, going from "I disagree" to "You don't know my life, fuck you!" in a couple of minutes. I didn't participate because, well, I was eating all this popcorn...

OKAY I'M READY FOR INTERNET CATTINESS NOW

I started typing a comment though, and it turned into the post you see here.

And this is what I want to say to everyone who jumps from "obesity is linked with disease" to "NO FAT GIRL IS EVER ALLOWED TO LIKE HERSELF, GROSS!"

Sup boo. Just because obesity is linked with disease doesn't mean every fat person's unhealthy. Just like alcohol is linked with disease, but not every person who drinks is going to die of liver failure.

So before you get all "OMG, Adele or whoever can't just go around being fat and happy because she's PROMOTING AN UNHEALTHY LIFESTYLE" just take a breath. Ask yourself how much of that response comes from your culture's innate belief that every woman's worth is based on her looks. Why you feel every woman's body is in the public domain, up for debate. That just by existing she's "fair game" to hateful, baseless criticism. Why you feel she needs to be controlled and put in her place (the chubby corner of shame.) Why it's a crime for a woman to be fat and okay with herself.

DAMN IT ADELE YOU'RE BEING UNGOVERNABLE


When was the last time a plus-size blogger told all her followers to go binge at McDonald's?

Oh, you don't follow plus-size bloggers? You just saw a picture of a gorgeous lady showing her belly that ISN'T CONCAVE OR CUT WITH ABS OMG EW and decided you know everything about her?

How much of what you assume about her is based on the negative stereotypes that INDUSTRIES have put in your head? The black-and-white "before" shots of sweaty, unhappy fat people in baggy clothes eating greasy fries in infomercials. Is that reality? Or is that a caricature that's meant to create an emotional need for the ThunderThighZapper 3000 or whatever?

Infomercials  real life. Srsly. 


So who is that belief serving exactly? Does it make you happy to be judgemental and alienating? Maybe. Does it shame your fat 'friends' into changing? Nope.

Does it make you more likely to reach for Green Tea Slimming Pills when you're at the pharmacy? More likely to buy LuluLemon yoga pants? More likely to sign up with a personal trainer at the gym?

Ding ding ding. You've just let consumerism swallow your empathy.

But wait, there's more!

Maybe you CARE. Maybe you're worried for them, lying awake at night freaking out about all these not-skinny people. How can they walk around and be okay with themselves when they're just so... WRONG?

Maybe you used to be bigger, and losing weight made you happier, so you're just spreading the love? Mm hmm, except that having a personal weight loss experience doesn't make you a doctor, or a psychologist, or suddenly give you the holy scrolls of truth about every fat person ever. It doesn't give you the right to try shame and silence those who have different bodies from you. It's the equivalent of "But I have black friends, so I can't be racist!" and it doesn't work.

Be honest. How much of your "concern" about fat people - fat women, really, because nobody ever debated James Gandolfini's right to exist and be okay with himself when he was alive - is a habit? A mindless carrying on of society's mission to view women as objects. If those objects aren't built right, it makes sense shame them into conforming or at least shutting up, right?

I suppose each person is going to answer these questions differently. The important thing is to question yourself, question your beliefs, research your facts, poke holes in your own arguments before you present them to the world as absolute truth.

And while you're doing that, all the happy fat girls are just going to be out there in the world, frolicking about with their ungovernable thighs, having way more fun than you.

Monday, January 27

My Sherlock Season 3 Feelings

Mediocre as fuck.

I can't even with this shit. So I'm gonna express myself through gifs.

[Disclaimer: I watched each episode once before posting, so this isn't going to have spoilers because I can't even remember WTF pissed me off. BUT THESE ARE MY FEELINGS.]

So I guess the writers just looked at the style, the characters, the quality of the show and said 



And I'm just sitting there watching like 



So this is what I have to say to whomever's fault it was that this season was horrific:



yeah, you, assbutt.



Just because you have Benedict Cumberbatch strutting around all like




And Martin Freeman making me feel all




Doesn't mean you can do a half-assed version of a script that has so many plotholes in it, it may as well have been crocheted. That leaves so many questions unanswered, it may have been a - uh - a QUESTION PARADE.



When I could keep my eyes open, the only thing I kept thinking was



And WHERE THE HELL IS PAUL McGUIGAN. The phenomenal director made Sherlock the most eye-fuckable show on TV ever. And he was nowhere to be seen. By the end of the season, the show doesn't even LOOK like Sherlock anymore. UUUUGH.



I just.... man. I feel like everyone phoned it in. 



Sherlock was the ONLY show that could keep me enthralled for 90 goddamn minutes. But by the half hour mark of each episode I was just like



Well, I guess it's better to have a BRILLIANT  show deteriorate into mediocrity than to be cut off in its prime. Right? I guess it's a bit pointless to criticise it now, because they're going to keep making it until it gets so bad that the cast refuse to perform the terrible scripts (hey, that happens.) So this blog post is one big moo point.



But hey, even though I pretty much hated the third season, the first two are still my religion. And Benedict Cumberbatch is still made of sexual rainbows.



So if you're gonna call me a hater, go ahead



And anyone who tells me that Elementary is better? My reaction is, and always will be:



And yeah, of course I'm going to keep watching until this show goes down in flames. If only to blog about the fall.



Because why? Because BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH.




Yup.

Saturday, December 21

Hey internet, what should I do with my life? No, seriously.

It's been a bit of a mad year. I started driving, changed jobs twice, met a human, moved out of home and in with said human, and LOOK PURPLE HAIR!


PURPLE HAIR IS PURPLE AND IT IS ON MY (ALSO STAINED PURPLE) HEAD.

(Sorry for the terrible webcam selfie, but my camera was stolen and I don't know how to internet anymore.)

This year has been exhausting and uplifting and good-weird and bad-weird. I was diagnosed with chronic fatigue, which came from a combination of stress and anaemia. While taking iron supplements took the edge off (pills are the best!) I was still all uuuuugh, you know? Moving from spammy copywriting to being a downright content mill to doing social media full time - all within four months - was intense. And all that moving didn't make me happy, because I kept moving AWAY from stuff - horrible management, crazy output goals, soulless companies. The usual.

After a year of changes, I now realize something BIG needs to change. Not just the thing I do every day, but how I feel about it, you know?

I don't want to be stressed every day. I don't want to cringe or roll my eyes when I think of my job. I don't want to sit in the same chair for hours, browsing Buzzfeed and waiting for the work day to end so my life can start. I want to be doing something that matters, and moving towards something rather than treading water and paying rent, man.

And maybe it's immature, unrealistic, selfish and arrogant to want more than that  - after all, I am no special snowflake. I recognise this. I'm just another mildly talented, undisciplined twenty-something with a caffeine abuse problem.

But, despite all my grumblings, I'm an optimist. And I'm going to at least TRY to find fulfilling work. So I started researching what makes people not hate their jobs. The fabulous Brain Pickings directed me to this imperfect but helpful book. And it has an exercise in it that I can't do on my own, boo!

So this is the part where I ask for your help.

Oh wise, clever, sexy internet, please take a few minutes to read the thing below and tell me what you think.

This is basically a personal job ad - like a dating profile but less for finding suitable grope partners and more for finding a career path that doesn't make me want to cry in the office bathroom.

What I'd like you to do is read the thing, give it a bit of a think, and suggest 2 or 3 specific careers that you think match the description. (You need no qualifications to give your opinion - I just need may different voices with many different points of view.) It doesn't matter if I have the experience or education to actually do that job, just that you think it'd suit me.

Comment with your suggestions and it'll help me SOOO MUCH in deciding what the hell I want to do with myself next year.

Okay, enough foreplay, here's the thing: (that's what she said)


Slightly nuts young woman seeks fulfilling employment. 

Talents include:
  • Writing
  • Critical thinking
  • Events organisation
  • Doing tomahawk stops on skates
Job seeker is passionate about:
  • Music
  • Damn good TV
  • Feminism
  • Puns
  • Roller derby
  • Communicating with the written word
  • Sleep
Her personal qualities include:
  •  A love of learning
  • A desire to make a difference in the world (she strongly believes in the healing, restorative power of art)
  • A love of animals
  • A dislike of direct sunlight
  • A binge/purge approach to productivity
  • Problems with authority
  • An editorial eye
  • A loathing for half-assed work
  • A dislike of herding cats (aka telling people what to do)
  • Limited physical and emotional energy
  • Misanthropy
  • A playful nature
  • An internet addiction (she would prefer work that doesn’t involve staring at computers – she’s sick of that)
  • Crazy hair. 
She’d love to make enough money to be independent, buy nice food and not have to seek dental treatment in back alleys. 

What would be a great job / career path for Slightly Nuts Young Woman? Comment below!


Sunday, August 25

Why the fuck should I care if anyone thinks I'm pretty?

I was at a pub with some awesome people - five girls and one guy. He said he didn't really feel like 'one of the girls' so I lent him my alice band - which had a big black bow on it. (He totally worked it, for the record.)

We had a few laughs and a little while later he handed it back. 

Then some random middle-aged man came up to me and said, "Give him back the bow - he looks much cuter in it than you. No offence, hahaha!"

Naturally, I smiled. I do that when I'm nervous. Then I told him to fuck off. I do that when I'm not happy. And then, because he thought I was joking, I ignored him until he went away.

The conversation in our group was a bit stunted by that rude and awkward encounter, but it started to flow again. More jokes, more shots, more silly stories.

But I wanted to take the bow off.

I couldn't WAIT until I could take the bow off. 

In fact, the only reason I didn't reach up and pulling it off  right away was anger. Anger that some fucking random douche in a bar thought he could a) tell me what to do, b) insult me in front of my friends and c) make me feel like shit because...?

Because what? 

Because I let my mood - nay, my entire self esteem - be dictated by the whims of a random stranger.

Because it's normal for someone like me to feel completely collapsed by a smidgen of negative attention from someone like that.

Because he thought he - as a male or a white guy or king of the universe or whatever - believed he had the right to dictate how I should look. 

Because every single day, society tells me that I'm worthless unless someone thinks I'm pretty.

And what the fuck is up with that?

I don't think I'm really under the thrall of mass media. I roll my eyes when big media posts a picture of a woman existing, and declares that she's flaunting or bravely baring her body. Like every moment of a woman's life is spent trying to project her hotness to the general public. 

Like the idea that a woman might just fucking BE instead of obsessing about how she looks is inconceivable.

But clearly, some of those messages stick like splinters in my subconscious. From Seventeen to CNN, every institution tells me: 'To justify your existence, you must be beautiful."

It's also something that bothers me about the fat positive* movement. Of course, as a fat girl I appreciate the acceptance and understanding that fat positivity brings. BUT it bothers me that so much fat positive stuff boils down to "Look -  fat girls can be beautiful! Fat girls can be sexy! ALL THESE MEN approve of plus-size women! Yaaaay!" No. Not yay. Boo.

Boo for "but at least SOMEONE thinks you're pretty" being the bottom line.

Boo for that raw inner nerve that's still struck by a random man being rude to me. That tiny belief that if only I were beautiful, I'd be safe. 

That nerve that's still there even though I know I am smart, talented, and loved. Even though I know in my head that I am a valuable human being who has a right to exist - no matter what I look like.  

Confession: I thought about ending this post with a picture of me in the offending big-bow alice band. It's tempting to end on a note of "But that guy was wrong, I DID look totally cute!" 

But I won't.

I don't have to prove to anybody that I'm pretty.

I don't have to care.

I don't have to give my power away.

And I'm going to keep telling myself that, until that raw nerve is healed up by my self respect.


*Obviously this is only a single facet of the fat positive movement - and I do think it's important as a whole. I just think the "don't worry - fat girls can be pretty too!" thing is misguided.

Saturday, July 27

Today in Things You Didn't Want to Know

I'm at a new job where I have to scour the internet for news - and I come across some pretty weird stuff.

Like this shit:


Beat that, FML.

Saturday, April 20

Tortured Nicolas Cage Puns > Work

So this all started when my worky-friend Robyn went off on holiday with her boyfriend and didn't even take me with. Rude!

As is customary with our dorky awesome group of worker bees, we had to do something silly to her desk before she got back. As an example of the incredibly high standards at my office, here's what happened to my desk when I took two weeks off back in February:

Yes, that's a disco ball.

The plot thickened when Robs announced that she got engaged on the last day of her holiday - now, her desk not only had to say "We're bitter that you went on holiday" but also "Congrats, dude!"

And then, a beautiful pun was born.


Congratulations on your enCAGEment!
Every inch of her workspace was diligently covered with a frighteningly enthusiastic Nicolas Cage! So simple yet so effective. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm more proud of this project than any of the actual work I've done at this company. Well, maybe I'm a little ashamed. But I'm a copywriter, shame is part of the job description.

After the big reveal and the explanation of the pun and then the dawn of realization and then the laughter, Robyn's desk went relatively back to normal, but there was one glaring problem.

What does one do with around a hundred Nicolas Cages?

A question many prank-inclined philosophers have battled with.

At first they all got stuffed in the bottom drawer of my desk. But then... something started happening.


It started off simply enough...

birdCAGE


Then it got kinda abstract...

enCAGE... or N*Cage, if you prefer

Then it got kinda meta...

CAGEbirdcage

Then it got confusing...

birdCAGE in a CAGEbirdcage

I took some requests...

A glass CAGE of emotion

The glitter glue and rolly-stamps did not go unused...

Nicolas RAGE


I'm sad to say I found this amusing for much longer than everyone else. The thought the magic had faded. BUT THE MAGIC WILL NEVER FADE.

Not with the mighty powers of Nicolas MAGE


 Okay, maybe I went a little crazy there.

Do forgive me.

It's just a Cage I'm going through.