Tag Archives: Spinster

The Summer of Gorge

10 Dec

ImageWith holidays now in full swing and my brothers recent engagement ringing in my ears I decided that the most productive way to spend the last two hours of my free time was by taking a Snapchat with my cat in manner of Kim and Kanye. Bound to be a spinster.

*Uh-huh, honey. *

After months of craving the freedom that comes with elasticated waistbands and a predominately topless existence, summer has well and truly arrived.

* I’ll just sit in the sun and crisp. You can’t get heatstroke twice in the same year. *

And after my little reality check back in November where I announced my celibacy and extolled the virtues of a pedagogical approach to my manstrual cycle. I have since managed to overcome a few issues that were weighing me down:

  1. I accepted some of my insecurities.
  2. I broke my drought.
  3. I was vulnerable.
  4. I am ready to be loved (vomit).
  5. I realized goats’ cheese is a gateway cheese.
  6. And I rediscovered my love of lists.

Let’s be honest, while most of the above were quite difficult to come to terms with and required a serious level of honesty and maturity read: boring. One did not.

Number 2 – The Drought & Mitch Buchannon:

Sleeping with new people is hard. I’ve tried using the Neverland method (second guy the right and straight on till morning) but it’s fraught with danger and pirates. Anyway ignoring the lengthy pre coitus ritual there are so many unknown factors involved with the act itself that are worth considering for e.g.

  1. Do they have a salivary problem?
  2. Will they leave their pet in the room?
  3. What if they have a murdering fetish?
  4. Are they Hannibal Lector?
  5. Is their penis weird?
  6. Correction; is their penis too weird?

* Yeah, but what about the stuff that get’s up around the sides of condoms? Okay, what about that stuff? Have you thought about that stuff? *

That is why when you’re looking to get back into the horizontal mambo you should always consider a previous dance partner. There are no unexpected surprises. It’s like doing your own Christmas shopping – you get exactly what you want and you don’t have to pretend to be excited about another “useful” gift that you’ll just throw away a couple of weeks into the new year.

* Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal. And a Happy New Year. *

So I did exactly that when I bid farewell to my yearlong bout of celibacy over the weekend with thanks to an old favourite; Mitch Buchannon.

* It’s been 300 hundred years right down to the day. Now the witch is back and there’s hell to pay! *

I’m not going to lie we had a pretty excellent understanding. Apart from one minor detail: the implied intimacy of prolonged body contact whilst lying on your side in a post coitus state.

* Don’t talk to me! Don’t touch me! I have to go. We have to leave now. I have to leave! We have to leave now! I have to go! We’re going. *

OK, I’ll admit it. I like a cuddle as well as the next fat person but what I don’t enjoy is the body heat that comes with it. Honestly, unless one of those spoons is filled with heroine there is no need to heat it to such an unbearable temperature. Not to mention that the sound of one person peeling themselves away from another is enough to make me sick and refuse any forthcoming attempts at putting your parched morning after mouth on my mouth.

* I’d be careful. That pony had a lot of water. *

And as far as staying the night goes I have only a single piece of advice. If you do decide to spend the night then it is imperative that you leave before McDonalds stops serving breakfast. If not to get the most hours out of the day then at least so you have time to grab some hash browns and hot cakes to fill the space that shame usually occupies. Stride of pride baby.

* Okay, here’s a little bedroom tip. Put a bag of popcorn in the microwave beforehand. That way when you’re done you have a treat! *

All in all it’s shaping up to be a very interesting festive season.

* Grace! It’s Christmas, for goodness sake! Think about the baby Jesus, up in that tower, letting his hair down so that the three wise men can climb up and spin the dreidel and see if there’s six more weeks of winter. *


Silver Lining

4 Nov

Image* Don’t let no one in who’s not on the list ’cause this mess is gonna get raw like sushi, so haters to the left. *

This is the sort of introduction that can be found at the beginning of most teenage girls’ diaries. The sort of introduction that weighs heavy with emotional instability, delusions of grandeur, hormones and the pain of budding breasts.

*Why are my arms so weak? It’s like I did that push up last year for nothing! *

Actually, I suppose that’s more like Winona Ryder at the beginning of Girl, Interrupted but you get the picture; shit got real and I slept funny on my boob.

* You see a lot, Doctor. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? What about it? Why don’t you—why don’t you look at yourself and write down what you see? Maybe you’re afraid to. *

It’s been several months since I stopped writing partly because I felt like I had nothing to say. I wasn’t enjoying what I wrote. I was over the relationship that drove me online in the first place and I saw little point in continuing using it as a billboard for my new, amazing and happy single life. I was done with being mean for fun. I was done using the blog as motivation for things that I was too afraid to do for myself. I didn’t know what I wanted or where I wanted to go. I was creatively and emotionally barren.

* Stick a fork in my Jerry. I’m done! *

What with the breakdown of my fathers marriage and the emergence of my own mental health issues in the intervening months, it became readily apparent that something was wrong.

* It’s the truth universally acknowledged that the moment one area of your life starts going OK another part of it falls spectacularly to pieces. *

I thought that if I could turn my sadness and loneliness into jokes and humourous situations for long enough I’d eventually break through to genuine happiness. What happened was I started to confuse the two. They both lost meaning and I became totally disoriented. The world seemed dull and lifeless.

* I have a problem? You say more inappropriate things than appropriate things. *

I’ve always smiled or put on a brave face when I say something bad because it’s easier. It’s always easier to pretend that everything’s OK. To joke about the fact I’m a spinster rather than to come to terms with an almost year long bout of celibacy due to my own insecurities. It’s important to feel things. Good and bad. So when you keep pushing away the bad, the good things don’t feel the same and you get tired. So very tired. And then the bad starts to win.

* Oh, Mrs. Dalloway… Always giving parties to cover the silence. *

That’s where I’ve been for the past four months. Trying to make some serious changes in my life to be a better person.

* And so if the government could just get to the kitchen, rearrange some things, we could certainly party with the Haitians.*

In doing so I’ve managed to gain a lot of insight into how I think. A pedagogical approach has given me the necessary drive to do what I want for me and not for what I think people want me to do. I can learn from the good as well as the bad and accept them both equally.

* I’ll show you how valuable Elle Woods can be! *

So I’m on the mend and ready to divulge details of my (l)awful existence and bring a little more reality into my life as Mister Spinster. Break out the brie and slankets it’s time to party…as soon as I finish these exams.

* I don’t think that I’ve ever been stressed out. Why would I be? I’ve got practically no responsibilities, my job’s a breeze and I’ve got a KILLER rack. Good morning. *

One of the Top Thirty Books of Our Time

2 Jun

Image74kg (up from last week, despite diet), alcohol units 6 (fathers birthday and depressing insight into what I’ll look like at 55), cigarettes 0 (v.g.), calories N/A as cheat day and yum-cha was involved, sexts sent 2, sexts received 0, hours spend contemplating life alone 3.

V. big news. The spinster bible has a new chapter and it’s about boys and madness. Two things I am a well versed in. Singletons rejoice. For with a new bible come revelations and most importantly, commandments: “Thou shalt not commit fuckwittage.”

I was initially concerned about Bridget’s return to the fore of the social consciousness. I mean she’s been out of the game for seven years and a whole lot has happened: Beyoncé is queen, Tina Fey is still funny and cats rule the Internet. O.K so not that much has happened. So then where would this thirty-something park her now continent-sized bottom and how could Helen Fielding possibly make her relevant again?

Here are my suggestions:

  1. There are GIFs of Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy emerging from a lake that Bridget needs to see.
  2. With Masterchef on the up and up blue is now an acceptable colour for food.
  3. There are so many faster, louder and quicker ways to embarrass oneself than misusing the fireman’s pole at Lewisham Fire Station.
  4. Spanx are not just popular with grannies the world over; now everyone hates their body shape.
  5. I forgot what real new years resolutions look like.
  6. I want to see Bridget turn into Natalie Portman in Black Swan
  7. There are lots of famous dead authors to invite to parties like whoever writes Amanda Bynes’ tweets.
  8. Journalists now say fuck-all.
  9. Tom would have to have done a duet with Sophia Grace & Rosie or simillar to get him laid for all of the noughties.
  10. Bridget is verging on “cougar” territory – she should fight Madonna for Brahim Zaibat.
  11. See through tops are commonplace. No tops/pants is the new way to go.
  12. Isn’t it terrible about first world problems?
  13. Google Maps will always show you where the toilets are.
  14. Knitted sweaters of any kind are fashionable.
  15. Titspervert is better known as Snapchat.
  16. ATTN Facebook: “How interesting. What a gripping life you do lead.”
  17. There once were two women who needed some food from a mans nether region. He showed them his back and opened his crack and defecated all over them kneeling.
  18. She needs cats. Lots of cats.
  19. Latin music is not a blip. J-Lo is here to stay.
  20. There are more alcoholics, workaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits or perverts than there ever were before. They can be found primarily on dating websites.

Mostly though it’s her struggles with life. The things we face day in day out that she takes on the chin. Her ability to see things from the outside. For solidarity and cellulite. For fuckwittage and failure. For hopeless romantics and just the plain old hopeless. Bridget will be there. Shining like a wobbly inimitable beacon in the proverbial darkness.

* Feeling sentimental? *

Age of Enlightenment

19 Apr

ImageThe closest I’ve ever come to enlightenment was when I shut my eyes during The Blue Planet narrated by David Attenborough and imagined myself riding a dolphin naked with Matt Bomer.

* How interesting. What a gripping life you do lead. *

Which is why, in an effort to reach an Alex Pettyfer filled nirvana; I have taken up bed yoga. No, that’s not some code for my non-existent yet strangely gymnastic sex life. It is as it sounds. Doing yoga from the comfort and warmth of your own bed. It’s pretty amazing. I don’t even have to get out of my pajamas and the only persons flatulence issues I have to deal with are my own.

*What are you doing? Horizontal running. *

It truly is the most fun a boy could have lying down that doesn’t involve chocolate.

* Chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate! Aack! *

As a parenthesis to last week’s discussion of costume parties it turns out I didn’t go to “The Sound of Music” party after all. I ended up going out till 6am and requested Bette Davis Eyes at every club instead.

* Dance! Dance! Dance until you die! *

So short and punchy with my paragraphs this week! More like paralaughs aye, aye! And considering how well that pun went down I imagine it was paraplegic…and now I am feeling more judgment than the time I dressed as Walt Disney and the hosts’ parents thought I’d dressed as Hitler. I got a tiny slice of cake and no lolly bag. That, ladies and gentlemen, was the very last time I let my mother do my makeup.

* What on earth are you wearing? You look like a common prostitute. *

Come to think of it, that’s probably the root of my desire to please people for food-based rewards as well.

* Am enjoying a relationship with two men simultaneously. The first is called Ben, the other, Jerry. *

In other news I think I may have been struck down with a case of Slut Throat aka Glandular Fever. Perhaps it’s just my cyberchondria playing up but between Project Free TV, news searches for Kelly Clarkson and Facebook (I cant be bothered to type the Facebook URL into the address bar) medical symptoms seem to form the majority of my Google searches. And Google has pronounced me sick or already dead.

* I’m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight. *

To be fair I do have a slight tendency to overreact. I once called my friend who studies nursing in a complete panic complaining of chest pains and severe cramps. I had already decided I was having a heart attack and written a farewell note to my family and friends in my iPhone. He eventually managed to calm me down and asked me what I’d been doing and what I’d eaten that day. As it turns out eating 4 separate sandwiches then going for a run for the first time in 3 months is a good way to induce some pretty serious heartburn.

* I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway – with or without a fireman’s pole. *

I suppose it’s just as well my phone got cut off today because I’ve just noticed a sinister looking mole that really should to be photographed and sent to all my friends studying medicine for evaluation. Maybe I’ll Snapchat it instead, give it some fangs or a sexy mohawk. Who knows, maybe even a little Hitler moustache.

* Welcome to Germany. Auf Wiedersehen, asshole. *