Around this time of year we are bombarded with Christmas appeals.
There are so many groups who are in need and it's nice to give something so that someone will have a less shitty time of it at the peak of the suicide season.
I like to slip my Big Issue guy a twenty pound note for the Christmas Issue, and my big 'pennies' jar (£170 odd this year) has gone toward Motor Neurone research, which also goes toward making me feel less shitty about myself. And there are lots of others …
This year, when you set aside a moment to consider those less fortunate, I'd like to remind you of a group who get left out year after year; snubbed and ignored, especially around the "party season" when everyone else is so happy.
So Dive's Christmas Appeal for 2006 is:
"Spare a thought for the ugly this Christmas".
I admit to a special interest here as I am a longstanding and fully paid up member of this group. Take it from one who knows: Christmas is a fucking awful time to be ugly.
I mean, I'm not hideous (well not very), but when I walk into a party and people turn to see who it is, I can feel a palpable flinch from all the unattached women in the room.
We ugs are the people who put the "N" in "hello" … We say "Hello" to a woman and her mind forms it automatically into "Hell No".
And even if one of us somehow makes it into a relationship, we get the feeling that we're as sexually attractive as yesterday's washing-up … You know, you see it all piled up and stinky in the sink and you know somebody's got to do it, but … (shudder). No way! Not even with Marigolds on …
And mistletoe. Fuck all round that.
And stupid drunk office girls in Santa hats snogging everything that moves … everything but an ug, of course.
And stupid "feel good" Christmas crap fucking TV. Where are the ugs? Nowhere.
Except for "fake ug", like Ugly Betty … Listen, you TV twats: putting a brace and glasses on a pretty girl does not make her ugly. Ug is Ug. If TV used real ugs, nobody would watch. Just like real life … Bastards!
And "the youth of today", pretty girls binge-drinking 'til they puke, then fucking in their own stink and leaving pools of chlamydia wherever they sit. But even semi-conscious from booze, they won't go near an ug.
And sicky-sicky married couples with their "lovely" kids. Do we ugs get to be attractive married couples? Do we bollocks! So don't invite us over at Christmas; seeing you so happy only makes us more fucking miserable when we get home alone to our dark empty houses.
And girlfriends who are 'friends who happen to be girls'. I've got girlfriends coming out of my fucking ears, but they'd all puke at the thought of dating me. (Ugs make girlfriends as easily as gay guys do; we're "safe" … Hah!).
And Christmas parties? Don't get me started … really … don't.
There's no love in our ugly lives and no prospect of any, so Christmas really sucks huge ass.
We ugs even have our own anthem. The lovely Mister Mozza wrote it for us; How Soon Is Now (sing along):
I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and the heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home
And you cry
And you want to die
When you say it's gonna happen now,
Well, when exactly do you mean?
See I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
So, this is Dive's Christmas Appeal:
Embittered, lonely, rejected, heartbroken and self-pityingly miserable as we are, please spare a thought for the ugly this Christmas.
Grit your teeth, pucker up and kiss one of us. You can have some chocolate after to take the taste away.
And you can enjoy your Christmas knowing you've done your good deed.
Sorry guys; I tried, but the Grinch is back with a vengeance.
21 comments:
You been sitting around in the dark again, matey? Winter Solstice is just 2 days away; that's what I'll be celebrating over the next couple of weeks. Each day bringing just a tiny bit more daylight than the last.
Do I need to say that I don't think what you've written is quite a true representation? Look forward to seeing you soon, and I might even bring some mistletoe!
I'm so glad Peahen got here first because she knows you in real life, not in blog life, and she has vouched that you are NOT ugly. I've seen the pictures. She's right. I wouldn't say "hell no," although for the sake of my husband I might say "pity, but no thank you."
I won't give you a trite "cheer up" line here. I'll leave the happy visit from Peahen with a sprig of misteltoe do the trick.
Oh, Dive, Morrissey in your holiday appeal. I'm sorry you are feeling so sad.
My friend, you've posted enough pictures of yourself that I can safely say that you aren't a "Hell No." But you don't need Peahen, Robyn, and I to tell you that.
I think Peahen is right---it's dark, and you need some light. Any chance of taking a little break somewhere nice in the near future?
It sucks feeling this way, and there's not a lot anyone can say to cheer one feeling this way up. I'll be thinking about you and hope that something nice happens very soon.
Ranting can be very healthy, as well as great fun.
I've cleared my bile out for a bit now, so the Grinch can go back in his box (at least until thursday's party).
Thank you, Robyn. And Pea: don't bring mistletoe, just bring you and we'll have a good laugh.
Sassy: That's very sweet of you, but hey; you've got to admit that's a great singalong song. I can't understand people who think Mozza's miserable; he's a great humourist.
Oh, he's hilarious ("Handsome Devil"?). It's just not what one usually puts in the holiday letter. I'm glad the rant gave you some peace.
Thanks, Sassy.
I'll be fine and dandy now until the party. After that I'll hate the world again for a bit. But that's okay because I find my rants a lot more entertaining than the drivel I write when I'm mister happy.
There is something about being miserable that makes one a better writer, isn't there?
Well that was one long session of it wasn't it! lol so you found me out then, art wise! he he.
Enjoyed reading your rant.
The history of literature is littered with the proof of it, Sassy.
And Lynn; I've been going nuts all afternoon trying to think where I've seen those paintings of yours. It was either Modern Painters magazine, or the Guardian or the BBC or BritArt or something, but I cannot for the life of me remember anything more than seeing them and thinking "Wow, I love that style."
Please help an old man's fading memory.
Hi, Kate Isis and welcome.
I'm glad it cheered you up. I've just popped over to your splendid blog and been similarly cheered up by the Clash. Excellent!
It is true, isn't it, that a lot of great writer were chronically depressed and/or alcholics. They say the same thing about horn players--the really great ones are drunks because of their nerves.
OH, and composers, too. They were al nuts, and we're better for it.
Bought the Big Issue today, not quite a twenty though. Glad you support Motor Neurone, Dive, my grandmother died of it when it was still a fairly unknown, or rather, difficult to diagnose disease.
lol well they are exhibited in quite a few places, searches bring them up in several areas of the UK., but out of the ones you mention, i did have a small mention at The Guardian, but BBC online interviewed me, maybe that was it. So glad you like them anyway! I'm flattered.
Oh, stop it. You're not the least bit ugly. If you want to feel good about your appearance, I suggest you visit the U.S. and spend an hour at any Wal-Mart. Now those are some fugs.
Robyn: the vision of a line of drunken horn players will sustain me on the journey to work this morning.
Lynn: check out my "Shiny Happy Old People" post (Nov.26) to see why I support motor neurone research.
And I'm always trawling the Guardian and the Beeb, so that may be where I saw your painting.
TOG: You're so sweet, but then you're safe from my "charms" in Seattle.
You heard the appeal; get on down to WalMart and give one of those fugglies a great big Christmas kiss.
Not such a Grinch, then, or Scrooge, are you really Dive? Nice post, Shiny happy, etc.. best wishes to Steve. Sounds like a great day you had there.
Hey! I rushed here this morning expected to read all about a party while I had breakfast. But no post.
And I have to agree with The Other Girl. I'm not sure what the draw is, but Wal Marts--especially at midnight or on payday is quite a show. On the hand, Wal Mart at 7:30 in the morning is a completely different store.
No post yet because I've been busy reading Maryann.
And I got out of yesterday's party, so only tomorrow's to avoid now.
I'm with Robyn... Where's the Party Post?
C'mon...
What party post?
I've avoided all the parties.
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