Wednesday, 3 February 2010

Notes

1. I note that I am bizarrely bloated. Whisky? Parma ham? Trans-fats? Hormones? Who knows. I got wedged in my Maje Mouret-alikey dress last night, a dress that I wore less than a week earlier without incident or notable tightness. I am ballooning. I wonder if it's excess knee swelling, spreading out across my whole body? Perhaps. I am dealing with it by eating as much cheap chocolate as I can shove down my gullet and dressing like late period Demis Roussos. I am sure I will deflate eventually. Puffy. Mmmm. It's fine. I have no plans in the next week or so that require me to be dressed, much (for the avoidance of doubt, and to clarify, can I state that I do not have plans that require me to be undressed either). I wore my dressing gown on the Eurostar this morning, but ssssh, I wouldn't like Tesco's to hear of it.

2. Apart from that I was shocked to hear yesterday that Walter from dog borstal is planning to leave me (yes it is all about me). He is going to start a new life in America, bringing his own particular brand of dog borstal whimsy to the masses.

"I wanted to expand here" he told me "but everyone here is stupid".

"Oh? What, everyone?"

"Yes".

I wonder how foie gras on toast for breakfast, dog themed films shown all day for the inhabitants and a pee-for all attitude towards dog excretions in the house will go down stateside. No matter. I am rather saddened for several reasons, mainly because I have long believed Walter to have a soft spot for me. He has a way of standing rather too close and staring myopically at my chest that I have vainly interpreted as such. Whatever it is, it has been a tremendously useful phenomenon, as he is willing to collect and delivery weepette at my convenience. Of course, the alternative explanation is that he pities me. This is more closely borne out by the facts. On his first visit here, this man, whose entire house is filled with incontinent canines and their deposits, took a sharp intake of breath, and putting on his best sympathetic social worker voice, said

"It's hard managing with children, isn't it?"

I should say I was in mid-biscuit frenzy and there may have been a moderate to heavy dusting of flour on most surfaces, and trays of biscuits balanced everywhere. But still. The shame was fairly extreme.

3. Speaking of baking, I am trying to get my shit together to organise the Cruel Tea Vicious Valentines range. Whilst not short of ideas, I am short on competence, and energy and worse still, I appear to have lost my baking mojo. I made the worst cake I have ever made at the weekend. It was a holy disgrace - a leaden, unrisen, burny heap of crap and I still can't work out why. It was the first cake I have made in this oven though, so perhaps we are just having teething issues. I do hope this doesn't extend to biscuits, or I am properly in the shit. Assuming I do manage to assuage the wrath of the oven god, I will be selling biscuits at an undecided location in London from 11-13 February . Um, put the date in your diary. If you are, you know, in London and want burnt biscuits with 'cunt' barely legibly written on them for your beloved. Or someone you hate. Whatever.

20 comments:

Corte Inglesa said...

Oh dear, hope you get your cake mojo back. Is it a fan assisted oven? When I tried to do a roast in one of those I managed to burn everything. think the heat indicator on my old clapped out oven at home lies to me.

Laurel said...

I bet Walter's borstal (had to look that one up) innovations will go over swimmingly with the many Americans who are under the illusion that their dogs are people. (I am an American, I hasten to add.) But do tell, whatever happened to the weepette's gigolo gig?

vw: exurar--to emigrate to America for the purpose of expanding one's (perhaps somewhat peculiar) business.

NON-WORKINGMONKEY said...

I would like to offer now to be the Montreal-based Canadian outpost of Cruel Tea Biscuit Manufacture, able to supply your no doubt huge North American audience. My oven is reliable and I am keen on making biscuits. We can come to a commission-based arrangement. I am not joking. Walter need have nothing to do with it.

cailinos said...

To recapture the baking buzz, insist to yerself that the recent flat cake was due ti your forgetting to add the wotsit, thats all. Anyone who ATTEMPTS to make a cake is winning, in my book. So climb back on that Moto Guzzi and prevail! PS SO sorry re the dog chappie....not easily replaced.

Colleen x

Knackered Mother said...

If it makes you feel better, I mistakenly added peppermint instead of vanilla essence to my first-attempt cupcakes this weekend. Wouldn't normally matter but they were for a friend who's just had a baby and even she, in her feeding-mother-who'll-eat-anything condition, said they tasted of toothpaste.

awhirlinlondon said...

It's awful but true that one almost always has to get to know a new oven before one can cook in it properly, particularly when it comes to baking. (The latter is hearsay; I cook, but can't bake because it requires more attention to detail than I'm capable of applying.) Would it be worth buying an oven temperature-gage thingy to make sure that the new oven is heating to the temperature you think it is?

Dearest Waffle: thank you so much for your "Kiss, Ride, Pay, Weep" post which made me contemplate and list my own (massive) stack of envelopes and Things I've not Done & confront a few of them. It gave me a giant kick in the bottom that I very much needed. xx

redfox said...

awhirl in london (or is all one word preferred?) is so right. I dread the next time I have to acclimate to a new oven, which will be in about six months. (Arrgh!) I also endorse an oven thermometer/gauge thingy to check up on the built-in thermostat, though the prospect may be too exhausting to contemplate. WV is suitably "nometr" which I take to mean No Meter.

the polish chick said...

cunt biscuits for valentine's day would be lovely as they perfectly sum up how i feel about holidays manufactured by The Man to get us to express our love in boring consumerist state-sanctioned ways. i once told mr. monkey that the day he brought me a dozen long stemmed red roses, would be the day i went to see a lawyer. yawn. and hurrah for cunt biscuits!

Sarah said...

I'm with Laurel on Walter's borstal; when we lived in Seattle, the place was dripping with "Doggie Daycares" which offered such delights as canine pedicures and personalised cushions. Walter's going to clean up.

Vicious Valentines sound inspired - here's hoping your oven gets its act together before you have to send it to Appliance Borstal.

Margaret said...

I have some bad news for Walter. I'm American and, as far as I can tell, everyone here is stupid, too. But we do love our animals, so there's that.

New ovens are a pain--I usually let mine heat up for a really long, long time before I try baking for the first time. And get a temperature gauge. But I suspect you haven't lost your mojo, you just forgot to add something or measured something wrong.

Em said...

I would love nothing more from the bottom of my hollow and bitter heart than to take a plate of cunt biscuits to the next Mothers morning tea - a hideous vile excrutiating must-keep appointment that sucks every last drop of self-esteem out of my body and reminds me yet again that private school might not be for us. After 10 years. Sigh.

Do you make biscuits specially for occasions like this?

soleils said...

Em: Why do you go? Seriously, not even cunt biscuits can brighten such a grim gathering, surely.
Chère Waffle, every one of your posts is a highlight of my day. You have a way with words.
Green tea: antidote to other excesses and bloating, in my book.

Em said...

Soleils: It's almost impossible to refuse and I already excuse myself from the Drinks with Arse Husbands so if I limit it to this four times a year I only feel tremendously inadequate for 6 hours at the most. Cunt biscuits could be an out for me without further conversation.

And obviously I need to harden up...

Jaywalker said...

Oooh, Em, I could do 'Ur kidz R thick', ''You bore me', 'STFU', 'Botox bitch'.... Other suggestions anyone?

Madame DeFarge said...

Love the idea of the biscuits - let me know and I'll buy umpteen and spread crumbs of discontent around SW1.

Em said...

Yes Ms Waffle. That would be perfect - botox, stupid kids. What about 'fake tits' and 'fix yr nose' or 'u need lipo'.

I almost want to go now! But not quite...

WrathofDawn said...

Non-WorkingMonkey's inventory of bsicuits should include "beaver" which is our national animal but also, Canuckistanian for cunt.

I'd buy them.


oubwawf - wv - what you say when you take the burnt cake out of the oven.

hairyfarmerfamily said...

Those biscuits sound fucking ideal!

awhirlinlondon said...

"ADD is a myth"? Or is that too mean? You could get away with "Yawn," though.

Anonymous said...

Perhaps a rodent of unusual size will help? http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/wirestory?id=9727449&page=1

Love,
An Avid Reader (Regis)