Happy New Year 2011. I'm really looking forward to life in 2011 and I hope you are too.
January is so great. All that new beginning business...
I turned 33 on December 29th --- it feels a more grown-up age than my previous ages of 32, 31, 30, 29, er 4, 3, 2, 1.... zero: and to think I started this blog when I was turning 30. Boy how things have changed, back then I sloped about the housing estate, had a live-in vegan eco-warrior boyfriend, numerous fun love interest dalliances, and a huge chip on my shoulder.
Now I have none of that: and I've eaten the huge chip on my shoulder, and grown in the words of my MBF Dillon: "A black woman's arse"
He felt compelled to say this because he is half-Ghanaian, and he said it whilst I was wearing a puffball skirt and apron baking biscuits in the kitchen to take to a party on Boxing Day.
Said party was at Emmeline's house; her boyfriend is a bit musical and sings in a band. He's won a few prizes and stuff. Jolly nice fellow.
"Cheers for that, Dillon," I said, snacking on a turkey thigh bone. "Now I'm paranoid about being fat."
"It's a compliment," he said.
"But we're on our way to a party over at Emmeline's house -- shall I change?"
"No. It's not the skirt you need to worry about." He pointed at my brown, yellow and blue delights on a tinfoil plate. "I wouldn't take those biscuits with you."
Unfair. I'd spent 3 hours preparing fresh gingerbread mixture, cleaning up the debris from Christmas Day, and during this time I discovered our hamster dead in her cage.
"Don't be mean. I'm sad because Hannah the hamster died. I'm not at my best."
"How did you kill the hamster?" asked Dillon.
"What makes you say I killed her? I'm very upset about our hamster. I loved her."
*bit of a sidetrack here: all the people I've told about the hamster have automatically asked what role I played in her death. Hannah was in human years at the very least 97 years-old. Her every waking day over December was numbered. She'd lived 6 months beyond what we expected.
So Boxing Day afternoon was all a bit distressing what with having some other woman's bottom at my rear, shit biscuits, and a dead hamster. We arrived at Emmeline's at six. She'd put on a fine spread and my biscuits, despite looking a bit crap, were a hit. Jack said his hellos then took a seat by the PS3.
"Hi I'm Maria," I said to an indie rock bloke.
"We've met before," he smiled.
"Probably at parties?" I laughed a little. "I might have been pissed. So what do you do?"
"I'm in the band."
"Ah right, yeah I thought you were, and... er... so what do you do in the band...?"
My biscuits were shit, my small talk dire, and my social skills down the toilet.
New Year's Resolutions 2011
improve small talk at social gatherings
bake better biscuits
don't wear puffball skirts until I've dropped 20lbs
don't play with birds before we cook them
attend Michael Jackson dance lessons. (not strictly a resolution, but it's happening... next week... I blame Lil'Kim)
Jack and the Suzanne the Turkey watching televsion