Monday, 10 October 2016

Strangely chocolate themed

I'm having a very quiet day. Theoretically I should be either pitching or trying to do Proper Writing. I don't have that many days that are totally empty like this, so I should take advantage of them.  I've earned about 40p from writing this year. I can't even afford laurels to rest on. I could rest on: chicken wood shavings. Fallen leaves. Discarded child socks. That's about it.

Unfortunately the empty hours of limitless possibility are just depressing the hell out of me and I still have no ideas and the doomed fiction I have been desultorily toying with for months looks shit when I go back to it, so here I am. I have made several dental appointments, ordered a document from the DVLA and done my overdue VAT return, so there is no procrastination left to me.

Hang on, there's still the laundry! To the basement!

Ok, now I've even finished the laundry. Mmmmm, laundry. Shit. Let's do some lists.

Reasons for self-loathing

1. Bad thoughts, various.

2. Bought some of that chocolate I told myself I must never buy again because I am powerless to resist it.

3. Refused to assist late child finding missing shoe because they had spent previous half hour watching YouTube videos. Justified, perhaps, but arsehole-ish.

4. Not writing.

5. No ideas.

6. €500 overdrawn, but have randomly ordered 6 bars of chocolate on the Internet today BECAUSE, OH I DON'T KNOW. Hormones, maybe.

7. Weird, quite creepy obsession with true crime podcasts. Aural rubbernecking.

8. Keep trying to give up Twitter and keep failing. It makes me feel bad, because everyone is better at everything than me and I get sad and hate them. But then I had an amusing exchange about this awful chocolate (this is NOT either of the chocolates mentioned above) and this even worse photo from the chocolate wrapper:

and that kind of thing is the reason I keep coming back even though I KNOW it's rotting my brain.

9. Continued enfattening due to perpetual desire for melted cheese and alcohol. Frustration with enfattening. Failure to do anything about it other than consume even more melted cheese.

Small pleasures

1. Picard has its winter range in at last, so I can go back to not having to think about lunch (ugh, thinking) and just rotate Picard soups.

2. Ru Paul's Drag Race s7 is now on Netflix, and no form of visual entertainment makes me happier than Drag Race. The episode I watched today had Shakespeare AND beards and the lines "I'm serving bearded gladiator gothic fierceness" and "I'm bringing emancipation proclamation realness." (drag queen dressed as Abraham Lincoln), both of which I loved so much I had to write them down.

3. It's getting colder and the colder it gets the more cheerful I (usually) become.

4. I have made scones as part of my displacement smorgasbord of activities and they are delicious.

5. The heating being on.

6. It's nearly Shit Uccle Halloween time! These guys are ready

Things I hate

1. Our new boiler which takes 20 minutes to produce a reluctant dribble of warmish water.

2. The return of saxo-neighbour.

3. Crap dog shit bags that are badly perforated and rip.

4. This fucking iphone update which has turned me into a stereotypical angry old person. What? WHAT? *stabs at phone with furious finger*

5. Skiing. This is not new or relevant, I've just bunged it in. Though apparently we are going at Christmas so jolly fucking great, time to spend a hundred million euros, break a limb and get repeated static electric shocks whilst freezing cold.

6. My defective aching hips. I walk like Mrs Overall.

7. Chocolate that tells you what to do.

8. Spot on my cheek.

9. Being stalked around the internet daily by an extremely unsexy pair of men's slippers I once had the misfortune to look at and a t-shirt my son bought months ago.

Things I don't hate

1. My friends, who are very good at the sharing of various forms of mid-life gloom/despair/anger in amusing and consolatory ways.

2. Melted cheese.

Oh good, I have managed to idle away all my available time now and the children will be arriving to criticise my many chins, ask for money and generally be surly and insolent. Hurrah!

I hope your Monday has been less ridiculous than mine. What do you hate/not hate? Do you have reasons for self-loathing or tiny pleasures you wish to share with the group?


Anonymous said...

Tiny pleasures:

I remembered to leave my slippers near the door when I left this morning, as opposed to their normal scattered positions of next to the bathroom sink (slipper 1) and under the bed (slipper 2). Thus this evening coming home I feel like a domestic goddess for being so forward thinking. A very very middle-aged domestic goddess.

Lisa-Marie said...

Chocolate bar man looks like Gollum. I bought a box of chocs, told my husband not to eat them as they are for Christmas, and then ate them myself

Anonymous said...

Led inexorably to yearn at what soup Picard might have (mmmm, potiron, why do you never cross the channel?), I am now outraged at Potage Brighton. What the hell is this impostor of an "anglais" soup? With cheddar and carrots?? I don't know what Brighton Soup should have in it, but I think sea urchins and an unhygienic sandal would be the least of it.

I'm not denying it might be *tasty*, but it is not *English*.

Jane Murray Bird said...

Have you seen Force Majeure? I love.

frau antje said...

It's a list

1. Nearby fire, due to a situation way too reminiscent of gilligan's island, spewed a cloud of asbestos on the patrician side of the street where nothing untoward ever happens. I was happy to see them get involved, as, believe it or not, I am partial to sanity, and have spent much time on public safety (some 'creative' jobs insist you comply, as well they should).
But: you do not joke about this shit, otherwise I would be writing a guidebook called Anne Frank was Lucky to Get Out. You DO NOT joke about any of this shit.

2. If you change the last letter of heleboel geluk (lots of luck) to an L, it means lots of bullshit.

3. You said you hated cheese.

4. En ja, voor de liefde van fuck, wat heb ik geen hekel aan?

Waffle said...

Frau A - I DO hate cheese. Unless it's melted hard cow cheese. Only melted. Then I love it. What? That's totally consistent. Voor de liefde van fuck is my new favourite Dutch phrase.

Anon - Your Brighton potage definitely has authentique saveur de Brighton.

Lynn said...

Here's something good for you - a new series of The Yorkshire Vet starts tonight. Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Rosie Redfield said...

This weekend I was lucky enough to go to the San Diego Zoo. The capybaras were missing from their enclosure, but the orangutans had sex right at my feet! (Well, on the other side of a very thick glass sheet...) My anatomical observations revealed that the male orang's member is surprisingly tiny, perhaps the same size as one of Donald Trump's fingers.

Waffle said...

LYNN THIS IS SIMPLY THE BEST THING EVER. I got rid of my entire family from the sofa with last night's intestine based extravaganza.

Rosie - That is quite possibly the worst mental image of this year.

Lynn said...

I didn't realise it had started last week (and I had bought a copy of the Radio Times) - OMG I missed an episode!!!!! But last night's was a good one, I liked the ripped trousers and the little boy with the rat that was his friend. All of the intestinal stuff was a bit gross but strangely compulsive watching. Just love that programme so much.

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