Tuesday, 1 December 2009

The Belgian Waffle Secular Confessional - November Late Edition, blame Belgacom

You know how I've been all positive and dignified and on top of things recently?

Dull, isn't it?

Well guess what, I'm not any more. Yay! Normal service has been resumed. I spent last night spinning in fury at the mind-boggling sadism of Belgacom (who failed to turn up, or indeed call, during the allotted NINE HOUR call out slot yesterday, this after a two month wait for phone/tv/internet). This included scratching away at my legs until they bled with irritation induced, well, irritation, marching up the road to the Belgacom shop to huff around and call them exceptionally rude names, curling up on the hall floor in a wailing snotty ball unable to breathe for crying, and lying on a bench in the park keening like an orphaned spider monkey.

It was almost fun. It was certainly necessary. And when I woke up this morning I had that shameful, guilty feeling you get when you've completely overreacted. Ah, fuck it. I was long overdue a howling tantrum. I have been a model of sober restraint for a surprisingly long time and it was a pretty shit week.

This is by way of an introduction to this month's delayed confessional. Delayed by BELGACOM BASTARDS. Blame them. May you rot in a special circle of hell for shittastic utilities, Bastardcom. And you can take Electrabel with you.


1. I called the Belgacom employees "fucking cunts" and I'm not even sorry, even though it makes me sound like a slurring Glaswegian drunk and I don't think from a feminist perspective that female genitalia should be the worst insult there is.

2. I called the CFO up and wailed down the phone to him, barely able to breathe for self-pity. When THIS IS WHAT I WANTED. It is all my idea. He would have been perfectly entitled to slam the phone down cackling "suck it up, bitch". He didn't. He even rang back later to check whether I was still snivelling (I was).

3. I shouted at the dog several times for being a total pain in the ass during our nine hour joint confinement in the Salmon Palace. Even though Belgacom being fucktards was in no way his fault.

In more general confessional matters, I will 'fess up to:

4. Buying a dress when I should have been buying furniture and stuff. An assymetric, draped jersey dress straight out of 1985. And! LYING ABOUT IT to Wafflechild and others at the Twitter party. "This Liberty bag? No, it's empty. I, um, asked them for an empty bag". Yeah, of course I got found out. I'm wearing it now actually, single handedly bringing the 80s right back to central Brussels, though query whether they ever left. Rawrrrrr.

5. Desperately wanting my children's first week in the Salmon Palace to be a disney wonderland of beautiful surprises and presents and sweets and ponies and endless cushiony, delicious, biscuit scented maternal LOVE. "Look children! Isn't everything PERFECT chez maman? Shall we cuddle and make cakes?!" (imagine this trilled with a mad staring gaze and semi-hysterical laughter and you'll just about have it). Of course, by mid-week I was barking orders as irritably as ever, but that just means double sin - the sin of petty, parenting competitiveness and the normal, workaday sin of being low level crap and short tempered with them.

6. I have not rung Inspector Donkey of the Uccle police force back with the account numbers of all the cards that were stolen when my wallet was stolen. I really can't be arsed, even though I promised, and he told me I really, really had to.

7. HSBC, as usual. Papa Waffle tells me they have sold their credit card business to some third party, which is why they are pursuing me with even more zeal than usual. Bastards.

8. I am heating the house like a tropical paradise and I bloody love it. I will get a horrible surprise when the electricity bill finally arrives.

So. Let the sin be forthcoming, and let us all bathe in the sweet Belgian rain of penance and forgiveness. I am a petty, mean, self-pitying, bad-tempered and generally pathetic old hag. You're safe.

Oh! And penance tonight will involve me calling you names based on horse anatomy or diseases, or other peculiar horse related words. Fetlocks at the ready...

(Is the font on this small? I did something complicated, more fool me)


Anonymous said...

I've hoofed it to the comments section to be the first one to confess but first I need to shoo my puppy off the chair he's not allowed on. So let me canter to the beginning of the confession by saying I am supposed to be researching new beds and various other household things for when MIL arrives but have spent the time bitching to everyone about the fact she's coming.
I shouted at the puppy for pooing on the curtain (which I was supposed to shorten, ooo about 9 months ago) and he galloped under the sofa to hide shivering.
I've hidden husbands new gant coat because whilst gesticulating wildly on the phone bitching about his mum my fag brushed against it.
I keep on feigning indignation at the crapness of the post office for not forwarding the post and general other companys' customer services but in fact I cocked up on all of these matters and they, for once, are blameless.
I have put fluent french on my cv and I don't even know what 'fluent' is in french.
My bank called to see me and I told them I am sick sick sick. Don't even know why they want to see me because I'm in the black. But it can't be for anything good. How do you fake your own death?
I could trot out another few dozen but I'll just let the next person jump in.
Yes, I know I'm lame.

Persephone said...

I'm too busy keeping my head above water to contemplate the various sins in which I swim. (Gaaah! Demeter arrives in two weeks! Why can't I tackle my to-do lists???)

However, I must know: what does the keening of an orphaned spider monkey sound like? Could I find it on YouTube?

WV "micks". Something else you can call Belgacom employees.

NicolaRidings said...

1. I found a better florist to do my wedding but had already paid a deposit to the 1st one. Despite being skint and knowing I'd lose my deposit I fucked the first one off and lied to them telling them I'd been made redundant thinking they might take pity on me and refund it. They didn't - the fuckers!

2. I told my OH that I felt under the weather so I could bag a weekend lie-in despite the fact he hasn't had one in months. He got up with 2yo for the 8th week running at 6am whilst I snuggled down under the duvet and drifted peacefully off into blissful slumber.

3. I'm getting married in 70 days and have only lost 1 stone. I am a fuckwit with zero willpower, and because I can't just go out and party whenever I feel like it, I make up for this by feeling that it's my god given right to eat nice stuff (pate mainly) from expensive deli's. I will look at the wedding pics with such self loathing I will want to self harm (or just eat some more). My OH says he loves me the way I am - he's a lying bastard too, we are clearly made for each other.

4. My OH has developed Alopecia, and it's very noticable! Whilst I keep telling him it doesn't matter and I love him regardless I have checked with the wedding photographer that he can use photoshop. I am a turd!

5. I am a horse perv and get excited by phrases like curry comb, numnah, fetlock and snaffle. 30 years on, I still resent my mother for not buying me a pony and think that her explanation of 'people in council houses don't own ponies' was a cop out - afterall, she could have sacrificed her 40 a day Lambert & Slutler habit! Selfish Cow.

I can't think of owt else, although I know there is shit loads!


teddy said...

nope the font isnt small.
i went house hunting with my flatmates for a new five bed house, to better the kingdom of mould and damp in which we currently reside.. and i didn't tell them until they started seriously discussing deposits that i am actually moving out next year anyway..
oh and i turn on the heating full blast as soon as they have all fallen asleep so we awake to humid, mouldy, dampness instead of fucking frosen mouldy dampness cos i am sick of wearing my sheepskin lined boots to bed...

Anonymous said...

Nicola, 70 days is LOADS of time. I left it until the week before and then did about 5000 pushups a day in the hope of something miraculous occuring. It didn't. I love photoshop.

Anonymous said...

Dearest Waffle.

I have been quite bad tempered this week - so its a good time for confession.

1. On a 'school trip' earlier today I was allowed out of the offices of the job of Ennui - this was FUN. instead of allotted time I decided to really thoroughly wander around, steal some complimentary coffees, meet the flatmate AND pretend I had an actual job (it was fun, people were impressed - I lied lots)

2. I am RIGHT NOW on la internet, I should be trying to find the address for the Ambassador or Paraguay or somesuch person BUT I AM NOT. muha. am badass - I blame you, you are definate bad influence.

3. where the people around me are hardworking fashion hounds I am infact mad slob who spills cappuccino down myself and generally has all grace of a beautiful silk issey miyake dress as it gently BURNS IN AN INFERNO. Everyone around me is terribly chic and concerned with the beauty of stuff whilst I sit here stewing and thinking that they are all destroying the environment. If they are (and they so are) then that means this IS NOT A SIN. yay.

4. I think I hate the man who sits opposite me - he is like a better model of myself - jealousy would make such an ugly hamster, if it were a hamster. I look at his work and I LAUGH inside at the errors I think he has made. nice.

5. I think the man in charge here is a MAD DWARF. I am sure of it, he doesn't seem to make eye contact with underlings and is short. My study is rigorous and scientific.

6. I am not at all this neurotic in real life... TWITTER MADE ME BAD.

*regains composure*

oooh only 9 minutes to go...

Waffle - can you not seek an alternative internet provider? x

the polish chick said...

nicola - i actually gained weight for my wedding and didn't think to wonder how all my pants were getting bloody tight. wedding day, mister monkey had to zip me into my dress using all of his strength and i ended up with a cleavage right under my chin which came in handy for resting the champagne, which was the only thing i could consume seeing as my giblets were squeezed into oblivion.

sins - have been a screaming, raving, door slamming bitch all week. blamed my hormones until a glance at my pill box confirmed what i long suspected: not hormones, but my fucking personality.

screamish said...

Despite the gastro that forced me, for ten days, to not drink my nightly 4 large glasses of red wine, and having felt much calmer, much healthier, less like a wheezing OAP in the morning, with no desire to sulk or start narky arguments, I have started again...and feel guilty about it. i mean i lived with an alcoholic for six years, i should know better and i DO know better, but i just can't seem to resist...altho i have a feeling if i could resist i might start shedding the extra 15 kilos that hang off my no-longer-young bones...

Anonymous said...

OK, here goes.

A few years ago I got horrible drunk
and at a friends bbq, and a
one night stand with someone I
didn't fancy that much.

Bad sex at 4am in the corridor
outside my bedsit because earlier
I'd lied and said that my sister
was staying over on my sofa.

Because of this I missed my flight
the next morning. I told my then boss
my car had broken down. I had to buy a
new ticket - well the soulless corp I then
worked for did. I told my boss
economy was full on the next flight
and bought a business class ticket. It

I then lacked both the courage to
not feel bad about it.

Anonymous said...

I really really really want to kill my husband. So I guess I'm confessing to wild axe wielding fantasies, though on reflection that sounds like it might make a mess of the furniture, and we don't actually own an axe. Nor do I want to go to prison, or leave the children without a father, but still, it's a lovely thought. I did think about going to actual confession to confess the sin of anger, but then I realised that to go to God Confession, you actually have to be sorry and repent and stop sinning and stuff.
I'm not sorry & I'm very unlikely to stop being in a murderously rage with him so what am I saying? Ah yes: he's the one that needs to be sorry.
More of an incoherent rant than a confession, Waffle, for which I apologise.
Hoping to offset the anger with some very wicked behaviour by the time of the next confessional, so that you'll have something more interesting to read. For example, I am deliberately and with malice aforethought going off to have a drink with a man next week. This is definitely a date and cannot be disguised as having a work purpose. But I think if you knew what my husband had done to make me so cross, you would whinny and canter off kicking up your hooves in a forgiving kind of way.

screamish said...

jesus...i don't feel all that guilty about my four glasses of wine anymore...thanks anonymouses!

Wafflecan'tbearsedtologinoniphone said...


Fran, a good range of sins marred by horrible punning. You only get to be ... Pony nuts. They're food, ok?

Persephone, I don't think you need a horse part, do you? Ah well. You can be a hoof pick.

Ah, Nicola. Nicola Nicola Nicola. This is not the place to mock alopecia intended. My wrath is VAST. You cannot be a numnah as requested. You are merely a forelock. Pah.

Waffle said...

Ugh, Teddy that sounds gross. Heat away. You are a pastern, I think.

Job of ennui anon Hmm. You are funny. You can be the highly prized snaffle.

M. said...

Forgive me Waffle, for I have sinned.

I have been lying motionless in the dark room of my misery, observing the growing pile of things undone and promises broken with mounting disinterest.

I have:
- Bought packets of my mother's favourite treat for when she next visits Europe, and already eaten half of them.
- Bought a lot of crafting supplies. And consistently failed to craft.
- Blissfully ignored many tedious duties, including registering for boring work shit, filling in crappy forms, calling the bank, setting up standing orders, blabla bla bla bla.
- Whined and whined about getting a new wardrobe for months, to get my clothes off the floor. Now that I have the new wardrobe, I have worn exactly one piece of clothing from it in the past 2 weeks, and the floor heap has started to grow again.
- Indulged in wild fantasies about a spectacularly weird, weird crush
- Tuned out regularly. Colleagues, boyfriend, students, friends and family talk at me; I can see the lips moving but I am not listening.
- Harboured bad, bad thoughts regarding a certain upcoming week end.
- Eaten a lot of cheese. And cream. And creamy cheese. And cheesy cream.
- Possibly left half a baked potato with chili in my studio. For days. It's probably still there, sitting in my chair, impersonating me, and doing a better job than I ever could.

linda said...

I am rehearsing various excuses -- er, lies -- to avoid having Christmas dinner at my sister's house en famille.
I am too cowardly (and I pale at the mere thought of confrontation) to tell my sister that my child starts to cry at the simple mention of her children, a precocious and precious pair who can do no wrong. I feel loathsome when I admit to myself that I feel the same way about them.
Like Fran, I'm supposed to be preparing for my MIL's visit, but am instead sulking and bitching about her upcoming eleventy-billion month stay. (Six months, but it feels like eleventy billion.)

Anonymous said...

I told a friend that I couldn't go to their dinner party because I have too much work on, when it is simply that I don't want to see them.
I harbour intense feelings of jealousy over a) all the women I know who don't have to work and b) all the women I know who work and earn more than I do
I have berated the OH for spending money that we don't have, while secretly buying all sorts of dresses on the internet.
I dropped four lamb chops on our disgusting kitchen floor and then picked them up and put them on the plates anyway. There may have been hairs.
I am so cowardly that these are not even the half-worst things I have done this week. But I'm afraid if I tell the truth you will unleash Dr Capybara on me.

Anonymous said...

"But I think if you knew what my husband had done to make me so cross, you would whinny and canter off kicking up your hooves in a forgiving kind of way."

"- Possibly left half a baked potato with chili in my studio. For days. It's probably still there, sitting in my chair, impersonating me, and doing a better job than I ever could."

I was going to take part in this collective confession but I'm laughing so hard that I've forgotten my sins...

You people are so funny!! :)

M. said...

Also, I blame the apathy on a complete lack of gchat, rather than, you know, being shit at life.

tigerbaps said...

1. I ate a pork pie. Okay, okay two pork pies. On four separate occasions. But not just any pork pies. M and S two pack pork pies with extra lard

2. When my elderly ma said that she would prefer the company of her family to that of the carers who pop in three times a day I said 'tough shit'. More sins relating to mother include pretending I had to rush to get back to work when I needed her to sign a birthday card to my brother. She said 'are you not staying for a cup of tea?' and I looked at my imaginary watch and went 'oh god no I'm on my errr...lunch break'. Also, I only phone her once a week because I know my sister will pick up the slack, and furthermore, my ma will forget I've phoned/not phoned so it's all good.

3. I decided to be in a sulky huff all weekend, for no good reason whatsoever, except to get attention, and Maltesers.

The punishments. Bring them to me.

carolinefo said...

"But I think if you knew what my husband had done to make me so cross.."

WHAT, oh Anonymous Clytemnestra of the Internets, WHAT did your evil husband do to drive you into such a crzed, axe-wielding frenzy?

I think we should be told.

And then we can work out if you could get a verdict of justifiable homicide.

Or you could murder him in France, and go for the Crime Passionelle.

Or we could devise a really good plan, perhaps in a Strangers On a Train kind of way, for ensuing you don't get caught.

Please tell us - the entire World of Waffle is sitting here waiting for you to elucidate further.

My own sins - although considerable - must wait until this mystery is solved.

pinolona said...

Forgive me Waffle, for I have sinned.

I skipped choir practice to go to a Thanksgiving party, saying that it was for work.

(Oh crap, I haven't done anything really shockingly bad. How boring)

My brother has been asking me what I want for Christmas for the past couple of weeks and I have absolutely no idea: he should just *know* and automatically buy me something lovely (not a CD that he thinks I ought to like)

I lie about my fluency in Polish all the time (see Fran's confession) but I do know how to say 'fluent' in Polish. I don't know it in Italian.

I bought my Granny's birthday chocolates from the Neuhaus shop in Gare du Midi.

I am trying to bribe the dog to love me, using Pringles.

I was in the shower when the intervention anti-cafards guys rang on the doorbell. Now I have cafards again and am likely to re-infect the whole building.

Today I didn't get dressed until midday.

pinolona said...

oh yeah, and I throw away at least one lettuce per week. I buy a new lettuce every week and never eat the thing. I just can't bear to, it's too cold and wet and requires too much skill to make it vaguely palatable.

carolinefo said...

Anonymous Homicidial Wife, are you perchance Mrs Tiger Woods? If so, WELL DONE! Spectacular performance.

Hey, who hasn't wanted to beat their husband around the head with a golf club from time to time...

We are here for you, Elin. You can tell us all. In confidence.

wv=inglamp. The procedure Tiget had to undergo in hospital to remove the little tee thingy hammered into his cranium.

Anonymous said...

Layla, I adore being called Clytemnestra, and I love the speculation that I might be Tiger's better half, but although golf clubs would be a marvellous alternative to an axe, I don't have any of those either. How much damage do you think I could do with a - let's see what's nearest to hand - a lampbase? Though I'd probably also have to stand on a chair to get enough purchase, otherwise I'll thwack him at about bicep level.
The real reason I'm not going to murder my husband is that I've worked out I can't afford to. Too poor for murder: the recession has a lot to answer for.

Jess said...

I have no desire to study for any of my final tests. And I am most looking forward to the final day of classes when I host a party for my class and spend an evening without husband and children so I can just be silly and be myself.
I really, really want to know what Anonymous's husband did. If you cant anonymously tell an audience of total strangers, who can you tell?

Waffle said...

Jesus. I subcontracted penance to a pair of horsey types but they are nowhere to be seen. Probably at the hunt ball or something.

Baps, you are quality bad. It makes me want to take you aside and tell you the stuff that doesn't get on here. I am awarding you the highly prized horse disease "poll evil".

Clytemnestra, you are not in need of penance, just an alibi. We'll all swear you were on the Internet with us all night. Shake a fetlock and get murdering, recession or nay. See, Fran, I didn't put 'neigh'. That's restraint, that is.

Back for rest of you later. Stupid tiny screen.

Baie said...


Jojo said...

Sorry - I'm back! I'm back! Have schooling whip, large spurs, a gag, a double bridle with curb chain, and an expression of grim forbearance.

Who do I chide first?

Anonymous said...

Restraint: overrated.

jojo said...


Anonymouses - you need to identify yourself. I suggest Anon 1, Anon 2 etc. How am I meant to thrash you soundly if I can't tell who is who?

Teddy - you need a new stable. Can I recommend hemcore bedding? soaks up all sorts of unfortunate moistures.

Pinolona - lettuce? perfectly reasonable response. Have a sugar lump.

Anonymoushusbandkiller - you deserve punishment for telling us your plans. A clean escape demands discretion, dammit. Chew on some trimmed hoof. Believe me, that is more disgusting than it sounds.

Nicola, you are giving horse pervs everywhere a bad name. Geldings for you, from now on. Just to be on the safe side.

Waffle? Happy? I'm off *adjusts hat, glugs hipflask, canters into distance*

WrathofDawn said...

Does my bum look big in this font?

I confess to refusing to forgive a stupid, hateful, jealous, duplicitous cow a six-month old transgression.

I would turn the other cheek, but it hurts to turn with this knife in my back.

pangspol - the pangs of guilt you feel when you've just fed an enemy arsenic-laced spag bol

Margaret said...

My main sin is not changing all the shit about my life I could change and then being a miserable fucking bitch about it. Same as last time. Same as always. Not sure why my husband continues to love me and be patient with me.

Also are a whole package of Boursin and called it lunch. There were a couple glasses of wine, too.

Plus, I put on the Presidential Address because I am a good liberal but I am tuning it out the same way I used to tune out W. Shameful! I love my president!

Did I mention last time that I was a complete bitch to my MIL at the end of her exhausting visit without having the courtesy to tell her why?

WV: problav. Polish for "fluent".

redfox said...

1. I quit smoking a year ago, supposedly for good, but these days whenever I see someone smoking I think fervently of how lovely it will be to have a cigarette as soon as I'm done being pregnant.

2. I seem to be incapable of not minding that no one wants to read my boring weblog.

3. Yesterday I first spent two hours when I was supposed to be working getting good and alarmed over the looming costs of baby-related required expenses, then placed an order for a $100 instant-read thermometer and assorted other kitchen gadgetry.

4. We just visited my very sweet and kind but tacky, dull, and maladroit parents-in-law. I have utterly failed to stifle my childish distaste at being forced to endure their well-meaning presence -- first moaning about having to go, then flinching and rolling my eyes whenever they were out of earshot through the whole visit, then mocking them to my friends as soon as we arrived home. Very classy. Am definitely convinced that if they should ever become more decrepit and in need of more frequent intervention from us, that I will DIE, having refused to provide any such increased interaction, first.

Margaret said...

I forgot to add Delicious Unsolicited Commentary:

pinolona: Get some prewashed cut-up bagged salad. Yes, it's very, very expensive. But not as expensive as throwing away heads of lettuce, and it's not cold or wet.

M.: Dude, you committed all my sins and left me with NOTHING. Screw you.

Kathy said...

M., didn't you leave that potato in your studio prior to the LAST confessional? Just checking, not judging, believe me sister.

My sin? I have become unbelievably fucking lazy. So lazy I am nearly dead. I used to be this mani-pedi'd shiny-haired High Flying Type A Corporate Superstar, go go go all the time, leading a team of 50 without chipping a nail, everything in order, bills paid, flat cleaned, wardrobe hung up, pressed and coordinated, everything in life nice and tidy. That chick would never recognize who I've become. I sleep 'til 10, exist solely on high-fat dairy products, haven't done a stick of admin in months, and wear yoga pants in public with wet hair because I just can't be arsed to get ready. When I can be bothered to go out in public. Which is only about half the days that I breathe. And I can't even work up the energy to *care*.

Meanwhile, I have now crossed the seven month mark without informing my Father I've come home. And he would care. Big time.

Bring on the penance, I will try to work up the energy to get incensed about it.

Stuck in the lowlands said...

I know it's not much, but I constantly cook with animal fat when my annoying vegetarian friend visits. She raves about my cooking and always asks for the recipe. I give it to her, san animal fat, and then fake sympathy when her trials fail.

I am looking so forward to feeding her at Christmas!

Laylabean said...

I have sinned...

I secretly enjoyed the untold levels of drama last week instigated by me when I suggested we shouldn't take our long-awaited vacation/road trip to my sister's house for Thanksgiving because of our sucky finances.

Despite REALLY not being able to afford it, we went anyway and now I don't know how I'll pay for Christmas.

While at my sister's I did not help with Thanksgiving dinner and general house upkeep as much as I should have and instead played the part of the lazy slob. We even left her with a messy kitchen - I do feel guilty about that one.

My daughters are waiting for me to come read with them and I'm pretending to work and dragging out my alone time as much as possible.

Laylabean said...

Oh! Remembered one more (and still pretending to work BTW)

I'm okaying loads of Facebook friend requests I'm getting from extended family and other people I couldn't care less about, then going in later and deleting them and hoping they won't notice.

LaurenR said...

Ah, you're bringing back memories... When I got divorced and experienced the joy of relocating, our local fucktards (known to 80% of Americans as Verizon, may they rot in hell forever and ever amen) "accidentally" cut my internet service while I was still in the old house. In the 4 seconds it took me to hang up the phone with them and go to check my email. But it took them 4 WEEKS to turn the email back on. 4 WEEKS of no internet when I was already losing my mind. 4 WEEKS of insane babbling on the phone to various levels of customer service "fucking cunts", crying, screaming, making insane threats and wheedling in a childish saccharine pleading voice... all to no avail. And then when they finally showed up the guy had the nerve to complain about having to climb up a big tall ladder to hook up the wires to the pole in my back yard. If ever I had wanted a firearm...

I feel your pain. I too have frothed at the mouth in rabid desperation for being deprived of the basic communication rights of any civilized human. You will probably still hate those people with a white hot fury four years later. You will likely find yourself having flashbacks at parties in the months ahead, when people casually mention their new internet service. You may even find yourself cursing darkly into the middle distance while standing in line at the grocery checkout behind a guy wearing a Verizon (Belgacom) shirt.

Whatever else, you will most certainly realize in about six months that you have told this story many many times with no discernable abatement of your rage, probably multiple times to the same people, and that those closest to you are likely debating amongst themselves whether someone should take you aside and ask you kindly if you have stopped your medication.

It could get embarrassing at times.

I'm just saying.

jen hit the roof said...

This month I have mostly been extremely cross with everyone, at work, at home, even the poor deaf dog who can't even hear me shouting at him. My blood pressure has gone through the roof, to the point the doc has put me on medication for it, but I still can't calm down, everything is so annoying! And I lied at least twice to the other half.

M. said...

Margaret: Whatevs, beeeatch, get your own damned sins. PS: Does your spectacularly weird crush rhyme with... No, I can't say it. Weird. Weird weird weird weird weird.

Kathy: Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. You are right. But, in my defence: different potato.

Waffle said...

M/Kathy hahahahahahaha. Oh dear, potato girl. Also, readers, when she says weird crush, she means REALLY weird. Not that I'm judging. Nope.

M. said...

Two words for you, Waffle: Snaggle. Tooth.

Waffle said...

J'assume, M, j'assume.

Anonymous said...

oh this is not a confessional (except to say that i do not like Mad Men, as it is boring and i am 32 and all i want to do is stay at home and eat green & blacks almond chocolate and eat christmas cake and yet Not Get Fat and even going out to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs didn't make me young just tired) but i was going to say that your piece in Elle was very thought-provoking and honest and good. The End.

Z said...

Oh dear. As ever, I've not been very bad at all. I've several opportunities in the next couple of weeks to achieve complete disaster, but I believe, for I'm a fool, that it will be averted by my wit, charm and sympathy-incurring air of anxiety.

Anyway, what I have done is drunk so much while I've been on holiday that I can't quite admit the quantity to myself. The comedown is not exactly painful, but I haven't been able to not drink at lunchtime yet which was a bit stupid yesterday as that gave me another migraine, I having only just got over the previous one half an hour previously. It didn't stop me drinking in the evening though.

I came home to discover my other half had cleared all the newspapers from by my side of the bed, some of which had been there for months. He'd also turned out the larder and washed the kitchen floor. This is how a long-married man demonstrates that he missed me. I am enchanted and grateful and secretly resolve to go on holiday without him again as soon as possible.

This is a real secret shame, one I shouldn't put my face to. My son and d-i-l have invited us for Christmas dinner. Although I am genuinely pleased and all that, I'm finding it hard not to be anxious because I know I'm better at doing *big meals* than they are. On the other hand, they know that too and still have invited me, which is brave and loving. I'm wondering whether it would be rude and upstaging to do a delicious meal a couple of days later - but if I don't, I'll have to cook every bloody day because we won't have lovely leftovers.

Oh, I've secretly decided to go private for my hip operation because I don't want to be in a shared ward. I feel snobbish and extravagant, and also haven't told my family and pretend I'm keeping my options open. But I've got the money, why not? Actually, the Sage has told me he's going to pay anyway. Which makes me feel a bit guiltier. But not guilty enough to go NHS and give the money away, which a good person would do, Stuff it.

Ooh, I just swore at your wv because I typed it correctly and it still wouldn't accept it. I don't think this is bad though, is it? After all, the only thing worse than evil wv is relentless spam.

Anonymous said...

What's all this about being in Elle? Is the article available online?

GingerB said...

I said harsh things to my mother at a family holiday (I said them nicely) about my brother who has been AWOL for ten months without contacting my mother, because he is an asshat.

I was resentful about being asked to help my aging mother get to the doctor because for fuck's sake, I work full time, I have two little kids, one with special needs, and I am supposed to take days off to drive her around? This is a sign of things to come and I don't want to deal with it.

I am officially smoking in secret again, outside, when no one is looking, and with piles of guilt. Ow.

the polish chick said...

what? i don't get no penance? fuckity fuck fuck!

Waffle said...

Patience, Polish Chick. Tomorrow. Or later tonight. Have you tried to give penance with one finger? Dammit.

MargotLeadbetter said...

I am totally with the husband killer, and mine hasn't done anything particular wrong, just wore me down with years of general twattery.

I am totally going to skive a boring work conference tomorrow to go Christmas shopping. Tame I know. But on the bright side, I really do want to kill Jerry.

carolinefo said...

Clytemnestra of the Internets -

having been thinking about your predicament, and feel that the person you really need is the Vengeance Demon in Buffy, who goes around dealing out horrible fates to men who have Done Women Wrong.

Have always found this role profoundly appealing, and indeed am wondering if it might not be possible to effect a mid-life career change and retrain as a Vengenace Demon myself - a Camel-Mounted Vengeance Demon.

If this proves feasible then will be only too happy to dole out appropriately hideous punishment to Tiger - sorry, I mean your idiot husband - in due course.

wv = sulogdl. This is the choking noise a man makes when a Camel-Mounted Vengeance Demon has just ripped off his balls, and stuffed them down his throat.

Chantal said...

Ah! Late to the party again, sorry - in my very own new Salmon Palace (tm) I have no internet, phone, television OR radio. Jesuzemann.

My confessions are somewhat similar to your own...

1) I have also whined to my ex (via email today) re. how horrible everything is, even though this, also, is what I wanted, instigated and made happen.

2) I have just spent twenty minutes complaining to my dad on the phone about how shitty the new flat is (see above plus it's filthy and fucking freezing), forgetting that he has something wrong with his eye and has had to go to hospital again today about it - I din't even ask him how he was, I am a horrible daughter.

3) I have wasted lots of time in the new flat in self-indulgent weeping, which funnily enough hasn't made it any cleaner or warmer, or built any flatpack furniture.

Ugh. Thank god my friend is coming over tonight for supper, even though I have no bloody kitchen table AND she's not drinking. I am though; I need le courage.

Courage a toi, Jaywalker - and btw, I LOVE that you called the Belgabastards fucking cunts. You are my hero.


P.S. WV is 'Sarin' - do you think it's trying to tell me something?

Waffle said...

Ok, I have promised horse words to the rest of you miserable sinners, and my word is my bond.

In reverse order:

Chantal - Separation haute cinq! You can be the withers.

Margot - well played, Mme. You are a headcollar.

Ginger, you are SO among friends. You are a dandy brush.

Z, I hardly think you need a horse word for such trivial sins. Hmm. You can be a stirrup.

theharridan - I am a bit jealous about the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. And thank you about the article. I'm a bit ambivalent. Do you want a horse word? You can be laminitis if you like.

jen - there, there. You are the cantle.

Lauren - No! I am bathed in WARM LOVE for Belgacom. Stockholm syndrome.

Laylabean - You are the pommel.

Stuck in the lowlands - you can be a martingale.

Kathy - You are a tail bandage.

redfox, oh queen of the internet animals, I think you should get to be epizootic staggers.

Margaret - you can be a gaskin

Wrath of Dawn - you are the stifle joint

Jess - You can be the wall of the hoof.

Pinolona - UGH. CAFARDS. You are the croup.

M - I have promised you the highly prized fetlock and you have sinned plenty enough to deserve it. It's yours! FELTCOCK.

Lambchop anon - Dr Capybara already KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE, PUNK.

BBQ bad sex anon - spavin. Spavin spavin spavin. Sorry curlywurlyfi. I had to give spavin away, I was running out of words.

Polish chick - you are ergot. Yes. It is a part of a horse.

Anon wafflechild - You can be a cannon, because it's a bit like canonised and I know your interest in all things saintlike.

Z said...

Stirrup Sunday was last week, wasn't it?

Anonymous said...

I can only sympathise. I don't really understand Belgacom's conception of customer service. I have quoted you here:


Hope that is OK.