FWB - Friends With Benefits.

 Last weekend, I decided to rent a DVD (first time in AGES!! OMFG!!!). So I asked my friends for suggestions, and one suggestion was Friends With Benefits featuring Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis. I thought to myself “Ah what the heck! What have I got to lose?” So, after seeing the movie, it got me thinking: I wonder how many "friends with benefits" are really friends and how many "f--- buddies" are actually buddies?
  If you're unaware of what it means, a "friend with benefits" (FWB), also known as a "f--- buddy", is basically someone you have sex with and leave it at that - no obligations, no strings attached, no messy emotions. These, however, are misleading terms because a friend or a buddy is someone you want to hang around with and talk to, while the "f--- buddy" and "FWB" are usually just someone you lie on top of, or who lies on top of you, while you have an orgasm.
  You don't tend to buy a f--- buddy dinner or flowers. In fact, you're probably not gonna bother getting out of bed most mornings to drive them home, let alone have a cosy latte at your local cafe.
  There's nothing wrong with this; casual sex is as old as religion, and has been practised by enough holy men so you can be sure it doesn't send you to hell. Back in the day, it was known as a "fling" - no arguments from me there; I've done my fair share of flinging and being flung, but then I've always tried to avoid the pretence, when I call someone at 3am, that it's for anything other than sex.
  That's why I don't get the whole "friend with benefits" nickname. Are people just kidding themselves? Trying to pretty-up an unattractive fact because, let's face it, someone you shag on the side is rarely your friend. If you doubt this, fill out the guest list for a birthday dinner with your 20 closest mates and ask yourself if your f--- buddy makes the cut? No? Didn't think so.
  If you really wanted to spend time with an FWB - have them meet your inner circle and family, buy them dinner and flowers - well, they'd be your girlfriend (or boyfriend) and the FWB obviously doesn't check enough boxes for you to make that leap.
  I’m telling you, Hollywood has a lot to answer for in regards to building unrealistic romantic expectations, so it's somewhat pleasing the two recent stabs it's taken at this phenomenon, No Strings Attached (starring Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher) and Friends With Benefits (starring Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis) - tell it like it is.
  The couples in both these films soon realise that two people having sex with each other, who also hang out and enjoy each other's company are not "f--- buddies" or "FWB". Indeed, the emotional strings are very firmly attached, because that's what you call a relationship. On the other hand, if you are having sex with someone but not hanging out together, not meeting their mates or doing anything other than turning up at their apartment to shag, try this experiment.
 Stop having sex and see if you remain "friends". My guess is there won't be a Hollywood ending.

Charles Schultz’s Philosophy.

 This is an email that was sent to me recently by a dear friend. You don’t actually have to take the quiz. Just read the email straight through, and you’ll get the point (an awesome one at that) that it is trying to make! And seeing ass all of my dear friends on here just LOVE to read my blog, I’ve posted it on here….ENJOY!

Take this quiz:

1.    Name the five wealthiest people in the world.

2.    Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.

3.    Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.

4.    Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.

5.    Name the last half a dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.

6.    Name the last decade’s worth of World Series winners.

How did you do?

 The point is, none of us remember the headlines of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers; they are the best in their field. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish, and achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

Here’s another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1.    List a few teachers who helped you on your journey through school.

2.    Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.

3.    Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.

4.    Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.

5.    Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

6.    Name half a dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you.

Easier?

 The lesson: The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. THEY ARE THE ONES THAT CARE. If you liked this email, pass it on to the people who have made a difference in your life.

 “Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It’s already tomorrow in Australia” – Charles Schultz.

Let 'em down gently.

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You damage people with what you say.

 A while ago, I saw a guy was drinking at a pub after a football game and he sat down at a card machine, started tapping away his life, and an angry woman appeared at his side telling him he'd taken "her" machine. She hadn't pressed the reserve button, so he told her to beat it, things got heated, she called him a few bad words, then he let fly and told her to "f--- off, you fat, ugly, four-eyed, lesbian moll".

 She cracked him in the head with her handbag, amusing several booze-hounds and as I watched the woman leave, I could see the insult had struck deeply; it seemed it wasn't the first time she'd heard similar words...
 We're told as children that sticks and stones may break our bones, but names can never hurt us. While it's true in theory, I've dealt with more than enough men and women who've been victims of bullying and name-calling to see the effects accumulate.

If you get called a "fat loser" or "faggot", "retard", "ugly", "slut" or "greasy wog" enough times, it starts to infect your psyche.

 The very negativity attached to these utterances transfers and it's only a kid - or adult - with a massively high self-esteem who can withstand continuous insults and not bend a little to their fury. It's what happens to a lot of boys (and girls) in high school: it's the kill or be killed mentality and a sharp tongue, a penetrating insult or nasty nickname can often be your deadliest weapon in this battle.

 It doesn't end when you graduate either and you just have to look at the jibes and personal attacks thrown in our parliaments and on our sporting fields to know that a carefully constructed insult is widely considered a reasonable tactic to undermine an opponent's confidence.

 The links between verbal abuse and anxiety, depression, disorders such as OCD as well as suicide have been studied and proven for years; there's no newsflash there. But do many or any of us pause to think about the damage done by a choice insult delivered out of our car in traffic or at the pub to a passing stranger? I'm not suggesting we outlaw plain talking or even ridicule, but it's worth remembering that the cutting things we say to other people are like drops in a jar and, when a person overflows, you better hope they don't own a handbag...or a handgun.

Ladies and gentlemen – welcome to the kids’ catwalk!

 For 100 points, to which celebrities do these children belong to: Colin, Elizabeth, Chester, Truman, Lily-Rose and Jack? Any idea? Nope. That’s because their dads, despite being two of Hollywood’s top three highest earners, have never paraded their kids as accessories to their own fame. Kudos Mr Depp and Mr Hanks. In fact, double cheers to Tom on becoming a grandad last year.   But compare them to Willow Smith, Suri Cruise, Lourdes Ciccone Leon, and Romeo Beckham who, thanks to some pretty intense parental showcasing, are now being heralded as style icons. You heard right – we’re now supposed to admire the dress sense of a five-year-old. Shove over Grace Kelly and Kate Moss. You’ve been usurped by the delectable Miss Cruise, whose tiny sandals and Salvatore Ferragamo handbag (which she can barely carry, let alone spell) earned her 21^st position on Glamour magazine’s list of best dressed women. Yes “women”. Weird huh? But not surprising when your preschool wardrobe is said to be worth more than US $2million.
  If Suri and her slip-ons aren’t your bag, how about Will Smith’s daughter Willow? At age 10, fashion’s funkiest little songstress has been named “the future-forward American icon” by Vogue. When she’s not whipping her hair or lacing up her pink Chuck Taylor boot-pants (you have to Google this look to believe it), the fashion bible claims she’s inspiring a nation with her natural talent and “unblemished optimism”.
 The list goes on: Romeo Beckham, 8, is in 26^th position on GQ’s best dressed list and will soon release his own sunglasses range (give it six months and his new sister, Harper – who already has her own Louboutins – will trump that); Madonna’s daughter Lourdes, 14, has her own fashion label; Gwen Stefani’s son Kingston, 5, has been rocking a blue mowhawk.
  Now, I’m not suggesting this lost are being pimped by their parents. Heavens no, they were clearly born with a distinctive style sense – indeed, Suri is so gifted, she helps choose her mum’s clothes. But to thrust celebrity on a child simply by mark of what they wear, sets them up from now on to measure themselves on how they look. And what about the overlooked siblings? (Yikes, imagine if Brooklyn lacks both style and co-ordination.)
  But celebs aren’t the only ones buying into the notion of super-styled kids. Just witness the explosion of designer childrenswear “collections” from the likes of Burberry and Marc Jacobs. As Lanvin boasts, its upcoming “super luxury” designs for four to ten-year-old girls offer a “way to translate the universe of Lanvin ready-to-wear to the world of kids”. What rubbish! Kids don’t need $400 chiffon frocks. They need hand-me-down jeans and a knitted poncho clacked out by their grandmother. Or anything, really, that accessorises with mashed pumpkin and mud.
  That’s why you’ve gotta love Johnny Depp (for more than just the obvious reasons). After his daughter Lily-Rose spent nine days in hospital suffering from a serious infection, he didn’t make a PR dispatch T-shirts and swanky trainers. Instead, he dressed up as Jack Sparrow and snuck into the hospital, where he spent four hours reading to sick children. So, did Lily-Rose recuperate with a spin to Christian Dior for some new threads? Nope, Daddy donated a million pounds to the hospital instead.