Friday, 21 November 2008

I hit the NaBloPoMo wall. With my axe.

Ok, so I had it in mind to write something semi-serious today (straw poll - interested in the entrails of my life, or should I leave well alone and stick to amusing vegetables like a latterday Esther Rantzen?), but, oops, it's Groundhog Day in Brussels, and here I am at home with a sick child again . This time Lashes, who sounds like he has swallowed a tractor, or possibly a donkey but is in all other respects hale and hearty and horribly up for a day of moderately violent animated combat courtesy of Pokemon Revolution on the Wii, complete with the most tooth-grindingly tedious dialogue and music that is liquefying my brain until it dribbles out of my ear. Another few minutes of this and I'll be taking an axe and heading off on a killing spree down the street, probably, ooh, all the way to the monk mural (100yds). Well, I should imagine axe murder is a pretty punishing cardio workout and my apathy would almost certainly win out over my bloodlust.



Now the other one is home and Lashes has just pinged a rubber lizard's tail in his eye and Fingers is trying to skip using my extension lead and climbing everywhere in search of an elusive marble and there are Playmobil warriors in all the water glasses and all I want is SLEEP. It is all very boring and leaving me in a state of semi-paralysis in which nothing but unconsciousness seems appealing and my eyeballs are receding further and further into their sockets to hide from the brightly coloured assault. I imagine the tedium will seep into here too. Sorry.



You know what? Let's have some photos. I am so sick of the sound of my whiny little voice.









This is a present from Red Shoes. She thought I would like him, and I did, just SO much. Would you not feel much happier about monarchy as a concept in your sovereign was a yam? I would. Look at him!






Red Shoes and I also shared our scepticism about Gwyneth's newest missive. Gywneth's Thanksgiving recipes are, frankly, implausible. Gwynnie would have us believe she makes a "not scared of butter" Martha Stewart turkey, giblet gravy and caramelized sprouts followed by pumpkin ice cream pie with maple syrup whipped cream. Mmm, macrobiotic, much?


First I had to I get past the post-traumatic shudders at the words "pumpkin pie". Violet and I had an extremely disturbing ouzo hangover pumpkin pie experience in Florence staying with the gloomiest family on the planet when we were 18. There was a morose English woman, a largely absent Italian man, and a precocious three year old with fecal retention problems whose catchphrase was "Mama is being ironic". The night before had involved me finding it unfeasibly hilarious to leave a baked potato on her pillow and vomiting in the corner of our bedroom because in the FLAT WITH NO DOORS it seemed like a better bet than the bathroom with no door. The pumpkin pie came out the next day after we had been left, in disgrace, to do all the clearing up with only the incontinent cat Ambrogio for company and we both had to hide the hideous pie under the sofa and flee, retching all the way, for pizza and white chocolate. But I DIGRESS. A LOT. After that I was all "As IF Gwyneth eats that. Any of it. Is she even allowed to look at that stuff? What would Dr Joshi say! Or that other one with the 'no white food' dictat?" Red Shoes agrees. I said her best bet for a happy Thanksgiving was to eat Chris Martin, but Red Shoes astutely pointed out how stringy and dry he would be, and that he would need a good week's simmering to be edible. Then I decided that instead, he should be force fed like a foie gras goose, but with Big Macs and KFC and other unethical foodstuffs. This mental image was the high point of my day.


Next, we (the spawn and me, not Red Shoes) made some monsters out of kits. Here they are intimidating Makka Pakka.




I recommend these fervently. They come from Magma, my favourite shop in the universe (apart from all the other ones) and if they want to sent me several free, well I wouldn't mind compromising my principles at ALL (I have never been offered any free stuff, ever, not even a Peloop. Bah.).


Ok, I think we've all had enough of me tonight. I certainly have. Imagine me banging into the NaBloPoMo wall at high speed, then sliding back down, shedding biscuit crumbs and despair. Pretty no?

19 comments:

katyboo1 said...

I'm glad you didn't go on an axe spree. In your fragile state of health you probably would have fainted and simultaneously decapitated yourself whilst being run over by, ironically, the very same tram you fainted on yesterday. That would suck. Big time.

You would be so ashamed afterwards.

Take heart. I saw a man trying to sweep up leaves using a dustpan and brush in a pub car park in a howling gale today. It was a sisyphean (?) task that amused me greatly. I have yet to decide whether he was pissed, on a job scheme dreamed up by the government or just mental. You decide...

Oh! By the way, my code word today is 'ookation' which is fabulous and probably something the librarian in Terry Pratchett's books has to do, or go to, or be.

Enough now.

Pochyemu said...

Please stop mentioning yams. I just bought about 23423049 of them, and now I have to peel them.

If a yam was my sovereign, that would probably be treason.

lisa in san diego said...

okay, i saw "eat chris martin" and my mind went in a WHOLE OTHER DIRECTION which may or may not be good news for my husband as we head off to santa fe, new mexico, for our thanksgiving week away.

(maybe i should have used that phrase when trying to rustle up essay-worthy google terms. i'm still feeling a little tetchy about the low quality of mine.)

i'm also glad the axe-murdering didn't happen, for almost exactly the same reason as katyboo1: not b/c axe-murdering is bad in and of itself, but b/c i wouldn't want to see you do it with less than your accustomed panache. wait till you heal. then axe away.

(WV today: nowsbe. that sounds like something i would say while drunk. repeatedly.)

Red Shoes said...

Gosh, I love the word "sisyphean". Not as much as I love His Royal Highness the Yam King, but still, a lot.

Poor Jaywalker. Illness takes the wind out of anyone's sails and you have been so incredibly, wonderfully diligent with your NaBloPoMo that I don't know what I'll do when December arrives and I can't be assured of a daily update. I'll probably cry. A lot. And make comments on obscure older posts that have been long dead.

WV: sucost

NoMoBloPoMo sucost.

zoe said...

Grandparents are there for one reason: to offload your own offspring onto them whenever it suits you. Like... when they are ill. Or annoying (most of their precious lives). When you fancy a day out with the girls, shopping.

As long as they return well-fed, well-exercised to the point of begging for their beds and clean, then you should follow this route.

As for yams - I want loads. And then more. Do I cook them like potatoes? It's just that my mum used to cook them (or someone else) when I lived in Tokyo.

Oh - and where can I buy some? I see none in Woesville.


wv: laffugub = laugh your gob off.

Jaywalker said...

Katyboo - you are so right. It would be a shame not to reach full bloodlust potential.
Ha. I so feel like that man, but with socks, obviously. It does help, slightly.

Pochyemu - oh, you make me laugh til I am slightly sick. I am so glad you got a blog. Go and read about Pochyemu's thanksgiving everyone. It's, um, horrible. Treason! Off with your head.

Lisa - Nope. No nourishment to be had Doing That to Chris Martin either I fear. Oh god, it's all going horribly wrong tonight.

Red Shoes - I sucost big time today. Sorry. But I love King Yam. He makes it all worthwhile. I don't imagine I'll slow up much come December. My life is very empty, remember.

Zoe - ah, I wish. Take your pick from: In thailand, dead, Very Important In Government. None of them great for babysitting, sadly..
I bet you could get yams on Chausée de Wavre, no? Want me to try?

zoe said...

I've got loving ex-in-laws just a few metro stops from here... mmmmm. And they owe me.

My parents are based in Devon but are usually nowhere to be found.

Q doesn't have any parents.

SO.

Yams. Yes. I want. Please. Will pay you back - of COURSE. Next week suit you? We could do lunch and I could leave them behind or something vaguely familiar. My brolly's in fucking Limburg - so I can't lose THAT one.

justme said...

The strang thing is, Jaywalker, that I feel Like you have ben posting LESS since you committed to the ....Napoowhaterver thingy....cos in the OLD days you did, yes indeed, sometimes post MORE than once a day....
Hmmmm.
Red Shoes.....why you have no blog of your own? Or do you have a secret one that I am not allowed to read?
Jaywalker...the monsters are VERY good. I found some wonderful pics of sheep cauliflowers and aubergine penguines for you, but I have not yet worked out how to send them. But your own craft works are better by far, anyway. Hope you feel better soon. x

Parisgirl said...

Libération did one of their back page profiles of Gwyneth last week. It was so Libé; let's pretend to be serious and not at all 'people' but let's scream "isn't she a total American/Martian weirdo?" between every line. Are you better?
WV. cruds (just how I feel)

Red Shoes said...

JustMe, I have no secret blog. I have no blog at all because my life is direly boring. I sit in my house all day doing endlessly dull internet work, I see no people, I have no interesting and clever experiences. I have nothing notable to blog about. It would just be a huge collection of whining, recipes, shoe lust and intricate chocolate descriptions... followed by more whining.

I mean, I've thought about it but another problem is, I don't know how to determine who I'd be writing to. Do I use a blog to communicate with family and friends? How then, will I freely whine about them? Do I keep it for strangers only? Is that weird? I don't know how these things work best. I am inspired by all of your blogs, and also feel incapable of living up to such high standards of wit and entertainment. Perfectionism is for suckas.

Kitschen Pink said...

I get that Gwyneth is good blog fodder, I just can't bring myself to subscribe to something called goop. Did no-one tell her that's the word for unspeakable gunk like you find in a shower drain? Or does the title simply seek to describe her recipes? t.x
(be better soon- chocolate, ear plugs, alcohol... in no particular order!)
ps - you're giving away your true saintliness by admitting you make softies with your children - at all - let alone when you're ill! t.x

Leslie said...

NaBloPoMo is like my parents. When I was 15. I just want to shout at it: I don't care if it is Natl. Blog Posting Month, you can't tell me what to do anymore! I wont be constrained by your stupid internet fad! BOO!

Shoe Envy said...

I am so excited - my Makka Pakka prize just arrived in Ecosse from La Poste. I can't believe I now have my very own Mexican wrestling tortoise outfit! I think you must have picked up on my very fervent hope that I would win one of your actual tortoises... But the outfit is possibly cooler and will probably spend less time pooing in my bath.

Thank you!

Jaywalker said...

Zoe - yes, let's get together and lose some stuff this week. I'll bring the yams, you bring your axe.

Justme - that, you see, is the terrible NaBloPoMo paradox. Now I HAVE to post every day the anxiety is paralysing. Before any old crap would shoot out of my head and onto the page at regular intervals. Sigh. I am sure the cauliflower sheep have already featured here before the fête, no?

ParisGirl - there's just no fun to be had in French papers at all, is there. I can't cope. Cruds - that's what we're having for dinner I think.

RedShoes - haven't you just described my blog there? Well, maybe with less description of chocolate. Hmm; there should be more.

KP - it is fascinating. How could she get it so wrong?

Leslie - yes. For me it is a bit like the tamagotchi birthday present - a constant all consuming anxiety. Nice.

Shoeenvy - I am so happy! Hoorah! A little piece of history, just for you.

Jaywalker said...

Also, none of you has expressed an opinion on whether I should write semi-serious stuff as well as whiny semi-comic nonsense. Do you care? Shall I just mutilate some toys instead? I'm in your hands for today.

Completely Alienne said...

I come to your blog for escapism and a bit of schadenfreude because my brats are older and I don't have to do that craft stuff with them or put up with kiddy vids anymore. So I prefer the funny stuff - but it is your blog and you should post what you like.

I can understand Red Shoes point - it can feel a bit pressurised when you realise people are reading what you write. I haven't felt like posting for several days now because of that. But then, I didn't sign up to NaBwhatever it is.

I have untablo for wv; I don't know what it means but I feel it suits me

Red Shoes said...

In answer to the poll: most definitely interested in entrails. Why? Because I am interested in you. What makes your blog my favorite is that you are wildly entertaining while being very real, very human. It never feels like you are simply mugging for the audience. I've told you before that what I love about you is how you can communicate your pain, your grit, your struggles with absolute grace, wit and sincerity. You inspire me. Truly.

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