High School Musical vs. Glee - The Battle of the teen Musicals.

Whenever the High School Musical logo crops up around the city, or the sickly sweet smile of the blue eyed wonder boy formally known as Zach Efron manages to creep onto the television screen. I consider how one could survive so long without being converted into a giggly, doe-eyed fan. Then remembering personal taste, along with the desire to see something a little more risqué like Glee. The producers of Glee may have never thought to describe their show using that word, however in comparison to High School Musical, anything could be more thrilling to watch.

Glee comes from the same idea bubble that High School Musical or HSM derives from, meaning it includes singing and dancing. It is of upmost importance to stress the 'musical' element is not carried out randomly or halfway through a sentence which seems to be a particular reoccurring theme with the latter. Glee boasts well trained singers mixed with a slightly tacky and cringe worthy plot, yet still manages to add more sass and drama than Mr Efron and his fellow posse would ever be able to achieve.

Not everything is sunshine and rainbows in the Glee world. The attempt at promoting teen celibacy shows comical scenes of hormone driven teens attempting to follow God's righteous path, and wait until marriage, consequently all fails and the 'popular cheerleader' type falls pregnant by someone other than her boyfriend....shock horror. It then goes onto tearing apart the ideal of the American Dream. Marrying your college sweetheart does not mean your life will be fairy tale-esque forever. The sexy school teacher is in fact pinning for the shy, OCD colleague, whilst his 'pregnant' wife prays on the unsuspecting pregnant teen to try and get her to hand over the newborn after birth....social services would have a riot over this.

All in all Glee is a cesspool for illicit and deceitful behaviour, something everyone secretly loves to watch but is too shy to admit. HSM lacks raunchy dance routines, instead having to endure hours of love songs about fate. It's clear that not only Wisteria Lane holds all the secrets and intrigue behind closed doors . In the battle between the two, Glee wins hands down as life can go on without any attempt at sabotaging sanity or the value of life after the hour of jovial fun on a Monday evening.

The New Regime.

Whilst reading an article on ‘Man Tans’ with the famous image of the character Ross from Friends populating most of the page, I can’t help but feel women now have competition where grooming and maintenance of image is concerned. Men have, over the space of ten years, become alert to the fact that they too have to make an effort with appearance, physique, and general up keep.

Gyms now look to pull in male clientele with waxes for those with werewolf like problems, or mani-pedi’s that attract the conscientious men with the need to impress with their smooth skin, neatly trimmed cuticles and cash to afford such luxuries that most can not.

This goes without saying; no one likes their husbands, partners, current fling or unrequited lover to have certain alarming qualities such as B.O or Gorilla like bodies. I do pose the question however, what happened to the rugged, manly man who couldn’t care less which moisturiser he used in the morning, or when his next appointment in the Hair Salon would be.

It never used to matter if a man was ‘too pale’, that was something alone that women would be judged on. Tanning on holiday – acceptable, Spray tans for men – just plain weird. I know many men may read this and think ‘Hang on, double standards’ yadda yadda yadda, but women since the beginning of time have been told to wear this bone crushing corset to have a inhuman body, or have every inch of skin waxed (which is pure torture) to please men.

Fixing hair and makeup before leaving for the office, lunch and continually during the day has been happening for years in order for us to gain credibility, acceptance and sometimes our way with the male specie. So surely in 2010, it wouldn’t be too harsh after a whole lifetime of being looked at as sex objects to say, Man up!

The Curse of the Blackberry

As the world becomes more technologically advanced and companies thrive on competing against each other, creating the most innovative of products. Consumers foam at the mouth over what piece of technology will surely help to eliminate and kind of face to face interaction or physical movement of any kind…next thing you know, you won’t need to be in the same room as someone to have sex with them.

I always considered myself quite modern, but liked to think I wasn’t caught up on having all the new technology, apart from my Ipod and the trusty sky remote to watch re-run after re-run of Friends on E4. I even proceeded to tease my younger sister over her obsessive compulsive behaviour with her Mac and Blackberry or Crackberry that incidentally would make a nice permanent accessory when attached to her hand.

I pictured myself easily slipping into the boho/surfer chick with the “who needs ‘things’ “attitude towards life. This was until my father got an upgrade on his phone and gave it to me…and now begins The Curse of the Blackberry.

What proceeds to look like an unpretentious, fairly bland phone can literally ruin your life. No longer can I hold off my Facebook cravings because, surprise surprise the Blackberry has linked it into the phone via…lets guess..an app! I now not only receive texts and phone calls but am harassed by the little icon saying I have ‘one new notification’, which then leads to constant status updates simply because I can!

My emails get forwarded to my phone, meaning I can no longer go on blissfully ignoring my inbox. It even means I am contactable instantly by BB Messenger..could life get any worse..the answer is yes.

Now phones are banned from the dinner table as me, my dad and sister have our faces glued to the never ending stream of messages that bombard the Blackberry every live long day.

Where have the days gone when a phone could do two things I hear you say? Sadly those days are far far behind and now life depends on one small inanimate object that a company thought would create demand…need…addiction.

Thanks Blackberry, now my life revolves around that one little red blinking light.