Thursday 6 February 2014

“Does my bum look big in this?”

There was me and the Internet (the Internet and I) having a chat and he (? for talk’s sake) came out with it...

The question every woman dreads. How do you answer that truthfully, without lying (obvs), trying to be constructive and in the interests of helping us all move a little further towards being our best selves?

The thing is, I really like the Internet. We haven’t said the L word yet but there’s a good chance that’s on the cards.

If we can just get this damn bottom thing out of the way.

So, because I really like the Internet and I want to grow our relationship, I delicately said:

“You have the biggest fucking ass I’ve ever seen. In fact, at times, you are the biggest fucking ass I’ve ever met. Your ass is out of control. Sometimes, when we’re having a nice time, and I get lost in the moment and inadvertently scroll down, I look at your ass and it scares the complete bejaysus out of me.”

And the Internet looked at me with a modicum of sadness but mostly understanding, for which I was grateful, and said “But the song: fat bottomed girls make the rocking world go round.”

Which made me smile a sympathetic smile.

“Not fat bottomed girls with huge festering boily buttocks like yours. All red and angry and ready to erupt at any moment. Your bottom half is rude and pushy, uninformed and it can’t spell. It’s reactionary and selfish with a small world view. A lot of the time, it’s an out and out troll. It contradicts itself and is utterly contrary. It has no sense of humour and is hell bent on self-destruction. But worst of all, its full of its own self-importance, thinking its little brain farts of half thought out ideas are actually worth the paper they’re printed on.”

“Ah now. Come on. That’s unfair. You’re really only talking about the comments section in the Daily Mail and the Belfast Telegraph. I’m not responsible for what people write on my bottom half.”

“That’s as maybe. But you do facilitate it.”

“Hang on: are you pro-censorship?”

That pissed me off no end.

“How fucking dare you! Just keep your big fat wobbly smelly bottom out of my face.”

“No problem.”

And we had a quiet moment.    
And the Internet sent me a cat meme. And I smiled and said:

“Sometimes your ass is funny though. And on the rare occasions it tries to be funny and succeeds? Well, those moments are to be treasured.”

Anyway, overall, the Internet took it well. It has a thick skin. Especially on it's bottom. And me and the Internet (the Internet and I) agreed that here, at, where it’s just me and the Internet, he would control his (? for talk’s sake) bottom, keeping it under wraps and ELSEWHERE AT ALL TIMES.

So, you’ll find no bottom half of the Internet here, but that doesn’t mean you have no right to reply. If you really take offence or want to troll me, you’ll have to learn how to spell, think through your argument rationally and constructively and maybe tweet me (@louroohq) or Facebook me ( or email me.

The important thing is me and the Internet is still strong.

Here’s to you, Internet, you legend. Bottoms up.