I finally got the chance to watch Inside last night. And I must say that this is one of my favourite movies I have ever seen. An urgent warning to those who cannot stand the sight of blood or cannot sit through a horror movie: you will not like this movie. Although there is a lot more too it than just gore, this movie is definitely not for the faint hearted. I was even covering my eyes throughout the film which is something I very rarely do when I watch horror films.

I found the film extremely interesting (aside from all the gore) in the fact that it conveyed the true nature of human behaviour on many different levels. There is nothing scarier than two women going balls out psycho at each other for either their survival or a baby. As well the as maternal instincts, there were the very basic instinct for survival. The main character was so depressed over the death of her boyfriend that she couldn’t even think to give birth to the baby she was carrying. Once someone threatened her existence and the existence of her unborn child, she immediately fights for survival when only minutes before she was probably wishing she were dead.

I loved the feeling of claustrophobia in this film. A majority of the duration of the film was inside the main character’s home. It certainly gives a sense of being trapped in a nightmare. All the surrounding houses are oblivious to the bloodbath that is occuring inside.

This film is sad, twisted and sickening all at the same time. If you are a fan of films that make you sit on the edge of your seat and have some sort of twisted logic to it all, then this is for you.

I hated uni. Obviously. However, I was lucky to learn a few valuable things that I will always use in my life. Things that will stop me from becoming a dumb bitch. Maybe people think I’m slow or dumb, or maybe they don’t realise that I couldn’t give a fuck. I like to think. I like to think way too much. And sometimes I overthink that I cause a blowout. I blame uni. Slightly. But then I guess I can also blame the fact that I was brought up without a single issue of Cosmopolitan or Vogue in the house.

When I was growing up, my parents and grandparents pushed me to constantly be more girly. More female. Not that I wasn’t. I liked playing with Barbie Dolls. As I got older, I wanted to play with make up. At 13, I wasn’t allowed to buy a Dolly magazine. But I did anyway and hid it under my mattress like a porno.

One of the most interesting things I remember - my mother dragging me around at the Perth Royal Show every year to get me the Barbie bag, or any bag that was for girls. Although I did show an interest in them, the moment we got home I would fight my brothers for their Batman capes or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle’s plastic nun-chucks. I liked to play footy and cricket.I liked to watch wrestling. And then I got into metal.

As I was sitting in the salon waiting for someone (ANYONE!) to come rescue me from looking like a tin foil alien, I tried to pass the time by reading Vogue and Cosmopolitan. I confess, I usually do read these magazines at salons because I don’t exactly want to seem out of place (more so than I already am) by just staring ahead as my hair is being done. Sometimes I will just stare at a page so it looks like I’m reading. But what I’m really doing is counting how long until I turn the page or think about conversations I had earlier in the day. I realise that in trying not to seem odd, I have just outdone myself.

I came across one of Vogue’s poor excuse for an article about women, youth, society and the media. I am somewhat aware that women in Hollywood who are nearing 40 are considered “hags”. And I am also aware that there is immense pressure on women to remain youthful looking and beautiful all the time or some guy won’t like us. I somehow thought it was Anna Wintour’s obsession with youth that seemed to fuel this fire. I don’t read fashion magazines, but I somehow know who Anna Wintour is. And I have a fair idea of what she is probably like in person. Ouch.

I thought it was amusing that I was reading an article that seemed to further shoot the world of fashion magazine’s in the fucking face. Here was this article, claiming that the media was to blame for this very ideology, when in fact the whole ideology was their doing in the first place. I almost laughed out loud. See, the one thing this uni class taught me was that these fashion magazines ‘condition’ women to stay or become society’s idea of what a woman should be - sexy, beautiful, youthful, thin, flawless. Possibly even some variation of “intelligent”. Not much has changed in these magazines in my lifetime. They are the chunder, constantly recycled. The article was based purely on their own doing and now they were questioning it? Classic.

After a while, I remembered why Cosmo and Vogue was not for me. Too shallow. Too easy. Too 2-dimensional. Too fake. I would much rather go out and find things that please me, instead of being served the monthly “how a woman should be” memo.

I am of the female sex, that is obvious. But one thing that has always affected me is the bitchiness of women. Mind you, I am guilty of being bitchy. Especially in my younger years… the things that used to come out of my mouth - I was certainly on the path to being smacked in the teeth. After a while, I had a epiphany and decided that no one in life gets far by being bitchy. And no one gets far calling other women “bitches” for no reason. I found it easier to call women I did not know a bitch. But when a few people calling themselves friends did and said questionable things - it wasn’t hard to hold back.

On Sunday, I went to pay for something at Live Clothing in Perth. I saw that someone was already being served and that only one girl was serving so I formed a line. However, after 10 seconds of my line-forming, a young girl and her really short friend who I could probably hurt just by sitting on, came up and put their items on the table ready to be rung up. I was pissed off that she had pushed in front of me but tried to remain polite. I said “Excuse me, I was here before you.”. However you can say that nicely without seeming like a bitch to the receiver I am not sure. She looked at me and narrowed her eyes and said “But you weren’t standing here.”. Her short friend looked at me - giving me a sort of “ghetto” look which I’m sure would have involved a lot of “ho!” and “slut!” had I gone any further with this confrontation.

I was slightly shocked - although I was partly expecting it. It’s not hard to find young women who are genuinely nice but it is hard to find them in Live Clothing stores.

On a night out the week before, a “friend” started disclosing unwanted information to me about two close people in my life. I am being gentle. Because, by god, that sentence could read something far more malicious. Ok, so by “disclosing unwanted information” I mean she was having a bitch to me. And by “two close people in my life” I mean my boyfriend and my best friend. So now you can probably understand me just that bit more. It was unwarranted, and so was the surprising part of her rant - she was telling me lies about events or occurrences that happened right in front of my face - as if I had never been there in the first place. It was shocking and upsetting as you could probably imagine.

It is sad, I don’t really understand the need for dramas. Can’t chicks just get along? Can’t everyone just get along in general? So much stress and shit like this is because people have crap attitudes and obviously blab to the wrong person about certain things. Why are women so bitchy?