Today in Things Liz Hates: New Year's, parties, kissing, and other women. And that's just the beginning.
Liz Jones writes a column about New Year's Eve which is pretty much everything we have come to expect from the perpetually negative Briton. Naturally, she doesn't like it at all. Jones hits all her normal complaint points (including a few I've bitched about myself): the parties are horrible, all the men are taken, everyone is full of false cheer and the midnight kiss is awkward as hell. We get it: New Year's sucks. But as usual, she reserves the bulk of her rage for other women. Particularly, the hostess:
I hate parties generally, to be honest. The fact you take along a bottle of really good champagne only to see it placed at the back of a cupboard by your hostess as she offers you a glass of something cheap from a bottle with a screw top.
The fact you go to all the trouble of turning up, wearing something special, and your hostess has not tidied her bathroom/ washed the kitchen floor/bothered to do anything other than tip a few crisps into bowls and buy a stack of plastic cups that are still encased in cellophane.
And you know who is even worse than the hostess? That awful woman who has the gall to be married to the only attractive man in the room:
I hate the fact, too, that if you do manage to unearth the one and only reasonably good looking man in the room, and engage him in conversation, within nanoseconds a panic stricken, lumpen woman shuffles over with a terry cloth square slung over her shoulder to shriek at him, 'Do you want to come upstairs with me to check the baby is still alive?!'
As loathsome as this is, I can't help but feel like we've heard it all before. Hasn't Liz been complaining about the dearth of men for quite some time now? And the gripes about the hostess sound awfully familiar as well. We're beginning to suspect that Jones is running out of things to hate. The newest entry in her file reveals how trite and formulaic she has truly become. With nothing else to whine about, she simply goes back to basics: women and their children. Yawn. Wake me up when she changes her shtick. Anger is so 2009.