So....on Saturday night I was like, I'm going to make a Me cake, that is, a cake just for me. Don't panic, I don't have an eating disorder or anything. I've just never liked sharing, and it really ties in with one of my Resolutions to be more selfish.
We tend to think Resolutions should be about becoming a better person, or helping someone, but sometimes you've got to ask, 'What about me? What do I want?' And I wanted cake.
I set up a little baking station in front of the TV, so that I could continue to spend as much of my weekend as physically possible with Dexter. Did you know that it's really tricky to sieve flour from a height when you're watching one man kill another with a machete. It's like, I may be 25, but I'm still stumbling over these really important life lessons, such as 'Don't prepare food in the lounge,' and 'cracking an egg on the side of a bowl sometimes causes that bowl to be catapulted'.
Please learn from my mistakes.
ALSO, the scales were broken. But I thought to myself, is it possible that I'm such an experienced baker, I don't even need to measure things anymore? Could I be one of those people who simply feels their way around recipes. I mean I could start going around saying 'pukka' and write a freaking book. How exciting!!
Well it turns out that no, no, I can't be that person.
I'm so fucking distressed at what happened to my cake that I've put it in Roses tin, and left it on the hob.
Is that weird? So what if it's inedible? What harm will it do, to stay in that tin awhile pretending to be a great cake, that someone expertly created?
You know, the bits around the edges really aren't that bad, especially it you favour burnt toast.
THEN
I tried to change my duvet cover, and after like three times, I was so frustrated, and on top of the cake thing, and the fact that I'd only had 11 hours sleep, I allowed myself a brief, but satisfying cry.
DON'T JUDGE ME.
Remember what R.E.M said? Huh? Everybody hurts God dammit. Even really successful writers.
In fact, I'm pretty confident that they hurt more.
And to all you people who insist on putting your beautiful, culinary efforts on Facebook - NO ONE CARES.
You may think it makes you talented, but I think you'll find it's harder to leave a cake in the oven for two hours, and find it's still not cooked in the middle.
Eat that and like it.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
5k February
The only resolution I'm getting on board with at all, is this 10k lark. I guess, overall, it's a positive move, but let me tell you, there are soooo many upsetting bits along the way. Par example:
You: So, yeah, I've signed up for a 10k.
Them: 10k? Why wouldn't you do a marathon?
As it turns out, EVERYBODY runs. Not only that, but they run faster, and further than you, and they've been doing it since infancy. So if one of the main reasons you're doing this is for recognition (pretty much the main motivating force in my life), give up now.
They don't respect treadmill runners. That's not proper running. And don't bother with sharing your injuries either, because unless you're torn something/passed out onto your face/been hit by a cyclist, you are nowhere near being in the game.
Some days you will feel truly energised and brilliant. Most days you will feel like shit.
ALSO
There are these three old nurses on my bus. This, I assume, as only one of them has a nurses outfit on. Ooh, but maybe it's an unlikely friendship between a nurse, a surgeon, and a cleaner, sweeping aside pay brackets to generate a pure, long standing example of friendship!! Probably not.
The point is, one of them doesn't have a voice. And it's this one who does most of the talking. I'm serious.
It's a little bit Batman, but less, just the grating rasp. I don't mean to be harsh here, because I guess someone's stolen her vocal chords (perhaps her best friend the surgeon!), but why would you insist on babbling on every day with your life story? I can't understand what she's saying, and maybe that's why the other two don't reply. It freaks me out. It's like searching for the right radio frequency every morning for fifteen minutes. THANKS.
The cats aren't dead! I thought it would cheer you to know. But I can't go near them any more because it turns out I'm allergic to cats. I've never been allergic before. But then again, I've never stolen two of them, and let them rub against everything in my home. So....I can't help but feel it's some kind of punishment. Like God disapproves of me stealing other peoples things?
Like duh, I'm just going to stock up on antihistamines, and nick them again. Nice try though.
Friday, February 08, 2013
All cats go to heaven
So....
In terms of all those unrealistic resolutions, the one I'm most proud of violating, is the no alcohol one. You'll be pleased to know I violated it good and proper, on many occasions.
It's just that I use alcohol as a balm to paste over my shattered dreams, to fill in the ever-increasing crack between the life I want and the life I have, and most importantly, to make boring people instantly more interesting.
And no one can tell me that's wrong. No one.
ALSO
The cats. I know, I know. Shut up about the fricking cats. Well you should be ashamed of yourself, because the cats are dead. You know that old murderous line 'If I can't have you no one will', well that's exactly what's happened here. She's punished them for loving too much.
How do I know this?
Because I've been watching a lot of 'Dexter', making me an expert at sniffing out criminals, this peppered with catching five seconds here and there of 'The Mentalist', and having spent most of my childhood trying to get my brother to eat mud pies which would of most certainly killed him, that's how.
There were no cat prints in the snow.
Cats can't fly!
And thus, they are dead.
Please now have a respectful moment of silence.
ALSO
Filo pastry is a smug bitch. I don't get it AT ALL. I never thought I'd encounter something in my kitchen which pisses me off more than cellophane. Seriously, I just tried to take a sheet from the packet, and I had no idea what was happening. So, in much the same way I react to spiders, I slowly backed away, and respected its space.
ALSO
I had this voucher for like £25, and I spent it on Amazon, as was like 'Gosh, 25 whole pounds! Better treat myself to an electric toothbrush charger!' And then I looked at the receipt, and they've ignored the voucher which had expired, and just charged my card anyway.
HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT?
If I'd know, that it wasn't free money, I never would've bought three pairs of winter socks, a Thunder Cats Yoyo, and The Wonder Years on DVD.
Amazon makes me sick.
Little update on my 10k progress; If any of you out there are thinking of using running to get skinny, forget it. it's not that I haven't lost a lot of fat, I have, just from my fingers. I'm pretty much exactly the same, except now I have to wear my rings on my necklace. If you're wondering what someone looks like when their head stays the same size, but their fingers turn to twigs, and they're running four times a week, please see a recent photograph of me below.
In terms of all those unrealistic resolutions, the one I'm most proud of violating, is the no alcohol one. You'll be pleased to know I violated it good and proper, on many occasions.
It's just that I use alcohol as a balm to paste over my shattered dreams, to fill in the ever-increasing crack between the life I want and the life I have, and most importantly, to make boring people instantly more interesting.
And no one can tell me that's wrong. No one.
ALSO
The cats. I know, I know. Shut up about the fricking cats. Well you should be ashamed of yourself, because the cats are dead. You know that old murderous line 'If I can't have you no one will', well that's exactly what's happened here. She's punished them for loving too much.
How do I know this?
Because I've been watching a lot of 'Dexter', making me an expert at sniffing out criminals, this peppered with catching five seconds here and there of 'The Mentalist', and having spent most of my childhood trying to get my brother to eat mud pies which would of most certainly killed him, that's how.
There were no cat prints in the snow.
Cats can't fly!
And thus, they are dead.
Please now have a respectful moment of silence.
ALSO
Filo pastry is a smug bitch. I don't get it AT ALL. I never thought I'd encounter something in my kitchen which pisses me off more than cellophane. Seriously, I just tried to take a sheet from the packet, and I had no idea what was happening. So, in much the same way I react to spiders, I slowly backed away, and respected its space.
ALSO
I had this voucher for like £25, and I spent it on Amazon, as was like 'Gosh, 25 whole pounds! Better treat myself to an electric toothbrush charger!' And then I looked at the receipt, and they've ignored the voucher which had expired, and just charged my card anyway.
HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT?
If I'd know, that it wasn't free money, I never would've bought three pairs of winter socks, a Thunder Cats Yoyo, and The Wonder Years on DVD.
Amazon makes me sick.
Little update on my 10k progress; If any of you out there are thinking of using running to get skinny, forget it. it's not that I haven't lost a lot of fat, I have, just from my fingers. I'm pretty much exactly the same, except now I have to wear my rings on my necklace. If you're wondering what someone looks like when their head stays the same size, but their fingers turn to twigs, and they're running four times a week, please see a recent photograph of me below.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
From the cliff edge of death
So....
The woman whose cats I've been stealing, caught me doing it.
I opened the door of my flat to let them out, and she was going into hers. I didn't make it weird. I just said, 'Morning!' and fled. It was 6pm.
I didn't see either cat for five days.
Then I saw Salem (I named him), and he ran away petrified. I can only assume she's been showing him pictures of my face, and then slapping him, in some fucked up 'Pavlov's Dogs' approach.
If your thinking this blog is about cats, it's really not. I hardly ever write about cats.
ALSO
I decided on Friday night, to go for a run in the snow at 8am the next day. The reason being, that after two weeks of Resolution keeping, I am now indestructible. My good friend (let's call him Thomas, for that is his name), told me that I was an idiot, who would fall over and hurt myself.
I really showed him, when I fell over and hurt myself.
It was alright in the end. But just not the first bit, when I lay screaming, demanding an ambulance.
I knew that I'd broken my ankle.
So you can imagine my surprise, when five minutes later I was walking fine! What a miracle!
THANKS FOR CURSING ME THOMAS, YOU INCREDIBLY TALENTED WITCH.
Then right, and you're not going to beeellliiieevve this one, last night, three teenagers tried to kill me.
There's a steep alley way leading up to my flat from the main road, which I've affectionately named 'Death Alley' (because it's a perfectly logical place to get stabbed. So much so, that as soon as the knife was in, you'd have to admit you'd been asking for it).
So I was carefully making my way up, when I heard a whooshing noise from above, shortly followed by a chorus of 'Hit her!'. I looked up. A sledge was coming for me, loaded with morons, like a black panther after a giselle (I'm just trying to bring the story to life for you). I pressed my back against the wall. They turned the lip of the sledge to the wall. That's right fellow reader! They were trying to mow me down!
With Olympian-esque speed, I ran in front of it to the other side, as all three of the scumbags zoomed past, scraping themselves against the brick.
Well I was a mess.
I got home, and made myself a fruit tea, reminiscing about the Great Snowball Fight of 2010, which for those of you who don't remember, is where I took on, and defeated a group of children (Please see blog entitled, 'The Rutter - 1 The Little Shits - 0')
I live to see another day, and what a snow covered, pants day it is.
The woman whose cats I've been stealing, caught me doing it.
I opened the door of my flat to let them out, and she was going into hers. I didn't make it weird. I just said, 'Morning!' and fled. It was 6pm.
I didn't see either cat for five days.
Then I saw Salem (I named him), and he ran away petrified. I can only assume she's been showing him pictures of my face, and then slapping him, in some fucked up 'Pavlov's Dogs' approach.
If your thinking this blog is about cats, it's really not. I hardly ever write about cats.
ALSO
I decided on Friday night, to go for a run in the snow at 8am the next day. The reason being, that after two weeks of Resolution keeping, I am now indestructible. My good friend (let's call him Thomas, for that is his name), told me that I was an idiot, who would fall over and hurt myself.
I really showed him, when I fell over and hurt myself.
It was alright in the end. But just not the first bit, when I lay screaming, demanding an ambulance.
I knew that I'd broken my ankle.
So you can imagine my surprise, when five minutes later I was walking fine! What a miracle!
THANKS FOR CURSING ME THOMAS, YOU INCREDIBLY TALENTED WITCH.
Then right, and you're not going to beeellliiieevve this one, last night, three teenagers tried to kill me.
There's a steep alley way leading up to my flat from the main road, which I've affectionately named 'Death Alley' (because it's a perfectly logical place to get stabbed. So much so, that as soon as the knife was in, you'd have to admit you'd been asking for it).
So I was carefully making my way up, when I heard a whooshing noise from above, shortly followed by a chorus of 'Hit her!'. I looked up. A sledge was coming for me, loaded with morons, like a black panther after a giselle (I'm just trying to bring the story to life for you). I pressed my back against the wall. They turned the lip of the sledge to the wall. That's right fellow reader! They were trying to mow me down!
With Olympian-esque speed, I ran in front of it to the other side, as all three of the scumbags zoomed past, scraping themselves against the brick.
Well I was a mess.
I got home, and made myself a fruit tea, reminiscing about the Great Snowball Fight of 2010, which for those of you who don't remember, is where I took on, and defeated a group of children (Please see blog entitled, 'The Rutter - 1 The Little Shits - 0')
I live to see another day, and what a snow covered, pants day it is.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
New Year, Same old you.
I don't believe I've ever achieved a New Year's Resolution.
Which is why I've adopted a new approach, which I'm titling, 'The Roll Over'. In essence, if you don't achieve it one year, you have to bash it back on the list for the next.
I shit you not, for the first two weeks of January, I have been loyally following the below:
*Watch less television *Learn to play the guitar *Drink more water *Stop biting your nails *Bring your own lunch into work *Sign up to a charity run *Go for a run four times a week *Floss *Don't drink alcohol for a month *Give up Starbucks *Cook all dinner's from scratch
BOOM
I feel like complete shit.
Mostly it's because I've been to the gym seven times in ten days. Luckily there's a man at the gym, who uses the rower and vocally performs his own porno - which is lovely when you've forgotten your Ipod.
ALSO
I have cats!
By which I've mean I keep stealing someone else's cats!
It started off quite nicely - they'd make a cheeky dash inside the flat, I'd track them down and shoo them out. Until Saturday. On Saturday I let one stay for a day. I think that makes me a cat burglar. I mean, I like me, but I just like me better when I have cats.
On Sunday, a few friends came round, and we got talking about aforementioned animals. And they were all like, 'There's no way they just sit outside your door waiting to come in.' So I opened the front door, and voilà a different cat! How exciting! I only kept that one for three hours - which I think is progress.
Don't look at me like that - like you've never 'borrowed' someone else's stuff. Like you're better than me. We all do things we're not proud of, but the important thing is that we learn from those mistakes.
Every night when I get home, I leave the front door open for a while, hoping to get a cat.
ALSO
My umbrella exploded recently, and hit my mum's car.And the company were all 'Our umbrella's don't usually explode, can you please send a photo?'
A photo?
Like I marked the area out in white chalk and took swabs.
I mean JEEZ. So I gave them a detailed blow-by-blow instead. And as I'm like a PROPER writer, it was rather nice.And then they sent me a new umbrella.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is the one thing that's gone right in my life so far in 2013.
LET'S CELEBRATE!!!
Which is why I've adopted a new approach, which I'm titling, 'The Roll Over'. In essence, if you don't achieve it one year, you have to bash it back on the list for the next.
I shit you not, for the first two weeks of January, I have been loyally following the below:
*Watch less television *Learn to play the guitar *Drink more water *Stop biting your nails *Bring your own lunch into work *Sign up to a charity run *Go for a run four times a week *Floss *Don't drink alcohol for a month *Give up Starbucks *Cook all dinner's from scratch
BOOM
I feel like complete shit.
Mostly it's because I've been to the gym seven times in ten days. Luckily there's a man at the gym, who uses the rower and vocally performs his own porno - which is lovely when you've forgotten your Ipod.
ALSO
I have cats!
By which I've mean I keep stealing someone else's cats!
It started off quite nicely - they'd make a cheeky dash inside the flat, I'd track them down and shoo them out. Until Saturday. On Saturday I let one stay for a day. I think that makes me a cat burglar. I mean, I like me, but I just like me better when I have cats.
On Sunday, a few friends came round, and we got talking about aforementioned animals. And they were all like, 'There's no way they just sit outside your door waiting to come in.' So I opened the front door, and voilà a different cat! How exciting! I only kept that one for three hours - which I think is progress.
Don't look at me like that - like you've never 'borrowed' someone else's stuff. Like you're better than me. We all do things we're not proud of, but the important thing is that we learn from those mistakes.
Every night when I get home, I leave the front door open for a while, hoping to get a cat.
ALSO
My umbrella exploded recently, and hit my mum's car.And the company were all 'Our umbrella's don't usually explode, can you please send a photo?'
A photo?
Like I marked the area out in white chalk and took swabs.
I mean JEEZ. So I gave them a detailed blow-by-blow instead. And as I'm like a PROPER writer, it was rather nice.And then they sent me a new umbrella.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is the one thing that's gone right in my life so far in 2013.
LET'S CELEBRATE!!!
Monday, January 14, 2013
Twee-dle Dee
Now, if I'm honest with myself, I could see it coming.
And you know what the worst thing is?
I let it.
The true realisation smacked me this morning, as I carried my lunch to the fridge:
Grapes (nothing wrong there)
Bread (still no qualms)
But here's where it gets ugly:
Banana Bread. I MADE IT, FROM SCRATCH.
Carrot and Coriander soup. I MADE IT FROM SCRATCH. And not only that, but I made enough to fill four containers, which I then froze. I'd purchased the containers purposely for this reason.
ARE YOU BEING SICK?
I AM
I'M BEING SICK EVERYWHERE.
Ask me what I did at the weekend. Go on, ask me. I trained for the Leeds 10k. I went to Ikea. I hung a picture. I sewed my hood back on my coat. Yes, I made the bread. Yes, I made the frigging soup. I sat around with people singing, I plaited my hair. I researched reasonably priced sheets.
I'd ask for help, but I honestly think it's too late.
It would take something terribly drastic to reverse what I've become. And I don't really fancy downing a bottle of vodka and snorting cocaine at work.
Oh God, what if I start knitting? What if I genuinely get the compulsion to knit?
WHAT IF I MAKE MY OWN JAM? And become a cyclist, recycle my glass bottles, and volunteer?
*Throws up again*
And you know what the worst thing is?
I let it.
The true realisation smacked me this morning, as I carried my lunch to the fridge:
Grapes (nothing wrong there)
Bread (still no qualms)
But here's where it gets ugly:
Banana Bread. I MADE IT, FROM SCRATCH.
Carrot and Coriander soup. I MADE IT FROM SCRATCH. And not only that, but I made enough to fill four containers, which I then froze. I'd purchased the containers purposely for this reason.
ARE YOU BEING SICK?
I AM
I'M BEING SICK EVERYWHERE.
Ask me what I did at the weekend. Go on, ask me. I trained for the Leeds 10k. I went to Ikea. I hung a picture. I sewed my hood back on my coat. Yes, I made the bread. Yes, I made the frigging soup. I sat around with people singing, I plaited my hair. I researched reasonably priced sheets.
I'd ask for help, but I honestly think it's too late.
It would take something terribly drastic to reverse what I've become. And I don't really fancy downing a bottle of vodka and snorting cocaine at work.
Oh God, what if I start knitting? What if I genuinely get the compulsion to knit?
WHAT IF I MAKE MY OWN JAM? And become a cyclist, recycle my glass bottles, and volunteer?
*Throws up again*
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Rebel with a cause
It's day 28 of Narnowrimo. Expected word count - 46676. My word count - 0
Calm down, I'll do it when I get home tonight.
I'll tell you what it's not - IT'S NOT PHYSICAL PROOF THAT I'M NOT A REAL WRITER.
And to prove it, I'm going to my writers' group on Sunday. YEAH, with proper paper and everything.
So screw you voice in my head - you patronising wanker (sounds a lot like Stewie questioning Brian over his first book. And if this reference is lost on you, march your uneducated ass down to Play.com, and spend your wage on a Family Guy boxset instead of food. There, that's the spirit.)
Or, just listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9rv1oJ4Res.
ALSO
I've been wondering if you're a sad act square for frequently going to the Library, but then suddenly a badass if you get a fine? I asked one person, and he agreed, so that's that. £3, and I've got street cred. And you know how much they were overdue? By a WHOLE day.
God, I really take things too far. I should calm down. Like sometimes there's a queue for the bus, and I sit down on a seat in the middle of the bench, and when the bus comes, I pretend I was in the middle of the queue the ENTIRE time! And sometimes Ginger Beard let's me do the weekly shop, and he's all like 'How are we supposed to survive on 8 ripe pears and tiny tins of coconut milk?' And I'm like 'Shut up and eat the fruit bitch!'
So, I'm glad we sorted that out.
I definitely feel better.
ALSO, this girl, who used to be my friend, told me it was okay to lean backwards when you're on a gym ball. It's not okay. You fall into one of those bikes nailed to the floor. And you get this big bruise on your back.. I hate that girl. Security were watching through the camera, and when I left the building they said 'Did you have a nice time in the gym?'
OBVIOUSLY NOT.
Hey, so mulled wine is like the best thing ever! Why do we only drink it near Christmas? I find, that if you pop lots of fruit in, it's practically a soup, which is a meal.
In case you were wondering, I've not had that much coffee today, only six cups.
I hope you've had a really nice time.
Calm down, I'll do it when I get home tonight.
I'll tell you what it's not - IT'S NOT PHYSICAL PROOF THAT I'M NOT A REAL WRITER.
And to prove it, I'm going to my writers' group on Sunday. YEAH, with proper paper and everything.
So screw you voice in my head - you patronising wanker (sounds a lot like Stewie questioning Brian over his first book. And if this reference is lost on you, march your uneducated ass down to Play.com, and spend your wage on a Family Guy boxset instead of food. There, that's the spirit.)
Or, just listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9rv1oJ4Res.
ALSO
I've been wondering if you're a sad act square for frequently going to the Library, but then suddenly a badass if you get a fine? I asked one person, and he agreed, so that's that. £3, and I've got street cred. And you know how much they were overdue? By a WHOLE day.
God, I really take things too far. I should calm down. Like sometimes there's a queue for the bus, and I sit down on a seat in the middle of the bench, and when the bus comes, I pretend I was in the middle of the queue the ENTIRE time! And sometimes Ginger Beard let's me do the weekly shop, and he's all like 'How are we supposed to survive on 8 ripe pears and tiny tins of coconut milk?' And I'm like 'Shut up and eat the fruit bitch!'
So, I'm glad we sorted that out.
I definitely feel better.
ALSO, this girl, who used to be my friend, told me it was okay to lean backwards when you're on a gym ball. It's not okay. You fall into one of those bikes nailed to the floor. And you get this big bruise on your back.. I hate that girl. Security were watching through the camera, and when I left the building they said 'Did you have a nice time in the gym?'
OBVIOUSLY NOT.
Hey, so mulled wine is like the best thing ever! Why do we only drink it near Christmas? I find, that if you pop lots of fruit in, it's practically a soup, which is a meal.
In case you were wondering, I've not had that much coffee today, only six cups.
I hope you've had a really nice time.
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