Whilst this blog is rapidly turning into a tear stained confessional for me to self-flagellate all over and make offerings on Peevish's Euro Altar of Pain (I promise to get funnier! Please don't leave! I have great plans for a second installment of Belgium with toys..), it strikes me that we have not opened the real Waffle confessional for some time. So. I am putting on my most judgmental sneer, my purple robes and I am airing out the kneelers and putting some incense out and I am ready for you. Yes. And you. And you too at the back, I bet you have a few.
I assume you all remember how the Belgian Waffle ecumenical confessional goes. I confess some sins, you give me penance, then you confess some sins, and I give you penance. Then we all go forth and sin no more for oooh, five minutes or so.
I will keep my sins brief today, since you are all heartily sick of them, I imagine.
Bless me internet for I have sinned. It has been five weeks since my last confession.
1. I still haven't cancelled our old internet provider so they are still charging us. Since (cough) September.
3. The CFO ate some nuts yesterday from our cupboard and found they were full of MOTH LARVAE. I found this horrifying and funny in equal measure. My middle name is schadenfreude.
4. I am obsessed with blogging. I LOVE it in a sick junkie fashion. I am desperately trying to make up for all the lost years when I was shopping, and talking to myself and taking long walks around London, and sinking in a stew of despair instead of blogging. The Bearded One and Stepmother are coming for the weekend and all I can think of is how, and when, I will get to sneak away with my laptop and make sweet love to it. It is quite probable that blogging is in fact merely replacing my other compulsions and neuroses rather than making them better. I am choosing to believe otherwise. The CFO wishes me to not touch the computer after 4pm or at weekends from January and I am having an extremely hard time coming to terms with this. Mainly it makes me want to place him in a box in the crisper drawer until he cheers up, but sadly the crisper drawer is full. So instead I am going with silently resentful.
5. I am insanely jealous of everyone out there with a book deal, or a newspaper column or a fun job. All of you. I hate you. Not you Marie you have an actual book and it is ace. Or Zoe (who I can't link to because her blog is filth). That doesn't count. I generally have serious issues with other people's success in fields more interesting and glamorous than the law. I confide in BMF in incoherent emails 'If x gets her fucking screenplay accepted I am just going to shrivel up and die. Truly. In a black ball of hatred.' etc etc etc. I find Zoe William's baby column in G2 unbelievably annoying because I could have done that! Better! Sorry Zoe Williams, I am sure that is not true, but this is the confessional and all, so I have to 'fess up properly. Otherwise they'll sent me to some Belgian hell where the Père Fouettard will smite me with scorpions or speculoos or something. Anyway, it kills me. Because I listened to my fearsome father and became a lawyer, which is the most sucktastic job imaginable when your heart is not in it (er, all the time).
6. I have eaten seven Celebrations this morning. I am stopping now, but still. You are NOT my friend chocolate. Fuck off and die.
7. I am spending too much money still. I am taking advantage of the CFO's paranoid financial crisis juggling to siphon small amounts off various accounts ni vu ni connu. I am unrepentant. Oh shit, it doesn't count if I'm unrepentant, does it? Ok, I AM repentant.
Right. That's me. Suggested penances please, and form an orderly queue for confession! Hallelujah!