In a Rich Mookmoo's World

Yes! Oh yes! We've been paid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I cannot begin to express how fucking relieved i am!

Have had a an absolutely fantastic weekend, much of it due to His paypacket having cleared early (because of the Bank Holiday) and us therefore finally being 'in funds'.

We did coupley domestic stuff on Saturday, lounged around Sunday, then had Queen of the Irish and boyf round for the evening. Yesterday He went to see MIL, and Thims and I spent the afternoon gossiping and window shopping. It was so good to see people I haven't seen for ages, and to not be preoccupied and panicking about money!

Going to the bank at lunchtime to pay all our bills, which is depressing (obviously) but in another way rather fantastic - because we can actually pay them all!!!

Life is on the up!*

*With the small exception that I managed to catch my foot in the trailing duvet this morning while getting dressed, and fell over the corner of the bed, smashed my shoulder into the wall, cut my hand open, and twisted all the muscles down my right side. I am in some serious pain!!!

And Before I Forget...

... please check out the link on the right, which takes you to my Ebay auctions. If you love me, you'll buy my stuff and help me afford bikinis. Go on, you know you want to!

Watching Paint Dry

I am having a very bored day today. Usually my job is pretty stimulating, but today it's hot and sunny, I have no work to do, and I just want to go home and get the weekend started.

I'm so glad the sun is out though, even if I am stuck in my office. It's giving us a little bit of practice for the holiday. Sat in the grounds of the Cathedral at lunchtime, ate sandwiches, and basked in the heat (though of course I kept my unprotected arms in the shade. No melanoma-inducing lobster baking for me - not without SPF 25 anyway!).

Plans for the weekend... going to give the house a quick clean tonight so I can mess it all up again over the next few days, then am going to enjoy the trash-fest that is Big Brother 6 - hurrah! Tomorrow I shall sleep and sunbathe (provided He fulfils His promise to mow the lawn), then the lovely Queen of the Irish is coming over on Sunday, and Thims is paying a long awaited visit on Monday. Even though I have no money, at least I shall spend the weekend surrounded by my friends.

Speaking of friends... I think I mentioned that I sent a rather guilt-inducing email round to a whole bunch of them about the situation we've been in over the past few months etc etc. Well, it seems to have had a profound effect, triggering as it has these visits from Queen of the Irish and Thims, not to mention some lovely emails from McFluffy. It would seem the old gals network isn't as dead as I feared...

And finally, Tuesday is payday. The day I thought may never come.

Life is good. And that is very rare.

Have a good BH weekend my lovelies. xx

No-one Said It Would Be Easy

As a point of bizarre coincidence, all of my ex-boyfriends, without exception, have been Liverpool supporters (or at least, if pressed, would admit a preference for Liverpool, even if they aren't active football fans). This means that despite being a diehard QPR fan myself, I do have a special affection reserved for Liverpool. And after all, let's face it, as QPR will never again grace the Premier League, this hardly presents a conflict of interest.

And so, of course, I found myself glued to the sofa last night watching with bated breath as the boys managed to defy all odds and put up a valiant fight to win the Champions League cup by a whisker. I will even admit to screaming with joy, punching the air, running round the room, and then bursting into tears. But to be honest, men across the country did that too, so I don't feel too embarassed...

It's a strange feeling though, watching a crucial Liverpool match. I feel almost cosmically connected to all the men I've loved, shagged, hated, lost, and left. Because I know that the majority of them will be watching the same action that I am, experiencing the same reactions... It's weird, quite frankly.

When they won, I felt an almost overwhelming urge to ring Beano, and scream hysterically down the phone, because I knew how much he'd be screaming back. And, I suppose, because I knew that in that moment, he wouldn't be able to hate anyone, not even me. And there are times when I do miss the Beano who doesn't kind of hate me.

Funny, the things that football can do to you.

I Heart Weekends

This weekend was good. Highlights included:

Watching Before Sunset for the third time on Friday night and ending up having a long deep three hour discussion about the state of humanity with Him

Curling up on the sofa with Him and watching the supremely undemanding National Treasure on Saturday afternoon

Watching Eurovision and getting paralytically drunk until all the songs sounded quite good

Finally clearing out my box room/study on Sunday and making it into a perfect (if messy) writing room

Making a big photo board to go on the wall of said writing room, with all the pictures I kept meaning to put up, but didn't

Amongst all that loveliness, we also got in the holiday spirit by buying up lots of spf 25 sun protection, trying on bad sunglasses in Hennes, and fantasising about what it'll be like waking up to baking sunshine instead of grey British drizzle. 4 weeks to go!!!!!

Wake Up Call

Now, first of all, have you all checked your breasts recently? Yes, I mean YOU lady readers of this blog. It's not hard: go home, whip your bra off, and do what you should. If you're not sure how, click here:

http://www.breastcancer.org/breast_exam_picture1.html

Male readers, get your friends/girlfriend/mum to do the same.

Of course, you should all be doing this regularly anyway, but since breast cancer has come into the spotlight over the last few days, you have no excuse not to.

Secondly, please, if you haven't done so already, click on the litle white banner on the top right hand corner of this page and sign up for Make Poverty History - they don't want your money, and they're asking less than five minutes of your time. Just sign up, email Tony Bleurgh and friends, then go back to doing whatever you were doing.

See, not only does this blog offer entertainment, it also saves lives.

Big love, Mookmoo xx

Balancing (on a High Wire)

Well, we did it.

The books balance.

Yes, we have barely any money left for food, but all the bills are covered.

And in 13 days we get paid! Hurrah!

(And okay, we'll still have hardly any money, but we'll have a bit!)

AND in just over four weeks we're going on holiday!

I am in a very good/relieved mood. Of course, the fact that I have a fluey virus and feel like shit is dampening my outwards display of enthusiasm slightly, but rest assured I'm cheering on the inside.

Now all I need to do is raise enough cash on Ebay to buy myself a bikini or three, and everything will be fabulous!

Something Lighthearted

Now, I've just finished reading Jordan's autobiography, and have come to truly appreciate what a sweet, loving girl she is under all that slap. So imagine how upset I was to see her getting a roasting in the press for the outfit she wore at the Soap Awards (link below)

http://newswww.bbc.net.uk/media/images/41121000/jpg/_41121115_jordan.jpg

Isn't it obvious what she's done? Now that Peter's 'career' has disappeared again and she's too pregnant for blokes to want to bash the bishop over pictures of her in her scanties, she's getting a little worried about cash.

SO instead of forking over a couple of hundred quid for a nice new maternity evening gown, she's gone to the wardrobe, pulled out one of her old frocks, sliced it down the sides, and sewn on some straps to hold the front and back pieces together: voila! a red carpet dress for the cost of a takeaway pizza!

You see? You see? She's being a caring parent! She's putting the sproglet's need for burberry babygros before her own need for a decent outfit! We should be commending the woman!

Hell, she might even be the next Asda mum of the week...

Define Drink Problem

Have I mentioned that He and I have given up drinking for a bit? Just til we go on holiday.

Now I never think of myself as having a drink problem, but the last three days without it, my body has rebelled. I feel like shit, my skin has broken out, I have a permanent headache, and I'm starting to think this is not a good sign.

(And we'll ignore the fact that not being able to soothe away my crappy day at work with wine yesterday evening turned me into a monster of rage)

Now, I'm not admitting to a drink problem, because I don't have one, but I never realised before what an integral part of my life alcohol is. I know I tried (and failed) to give it up for a while in January, but this is actually kind of scaring me now.

However, I'm reliably informed that after a week without it, I'll feel amazing. Not sure I believe that, but I'm clinging on to the vain hope...

Wanted: Brain Space

My head is working overtime at the moment. It's exhausting. All this financial stuff, constant sums and worrying, as well as work, family, relationship, blah blah blah. It's no wonder I've got no mental energy left to be creative.

I spring cleaned the house on Saturday, with the exception of the kitchen (His territory) and our respective creative territories (my study, His 'studio'). It feels good somehow to know that there are no cobwebs or skeletons lurking in the backs of cupboards or under beds. Now I just need to do the same to my mind!

I'm slightly obsessed with trying to get everything in our financial life fully automated - DDs, standing orders, all that sort of thing. I want to be able to just not think about it all from one week to the next. I feel like I've done enough financial planning and juggling to last a lifetime.

Even when I'm asleep, I can't relax. I dream about sums, money, cheques... I used to dream about flying.

I'm a newlywed drama queen - get me out of here!

Don't Regret Me

When I was young(er) and a tad pretentious, and thought I was a cross between Tallulah in Bugsy Malone and Courtney Love pre Kurt, I used to have quite a lot of one-night things, particularly with City boys (on the grounds that they were just fascinated by me, and attracted and repelled in equal measure by my rock bitch persona, which always made for taut, exciting sex).

Slightly emotionally damaged, I was convinced that this was absolutely the best way to be independent and interesting, and of course with the added bonus that no emotion means no hurt. Beano, incidentally, was the one who brutally cured me of emotionless sex.

Anyway, having seen or heard of countless women who would end a one night stand by leaving a phone number, or a faux-breezy note, asking the guy to keep in touch as they left his flat in the cold light of day, I was determined that I would be different in this regard as well. So in my youthful pretention, I used to leave a note reading "Don't regret me" with no phone number or even a name. I thought it was very sophisticated...

Last night I found one of those notes scrumpled in the bottom of a vintage clutch bag that I haven't used since before I met Him.

It felt painful, and alien, and sad.

Recovery

The Mookmoo economy is experiencing a period of some tentative recovery.

This is good.

And today I finally posted all the stuff I've sold on Ebay, and so did He. I feel renewed and clever, and just a little bit smug. Though it does irk me that the £450 we have made on Ebay would have bought rather a lot of nice things if it hadn't had to be used on stinking bills.

But no matter. I shall dig out some more stuff to sell and buy nice things with.

The Mookmoo mental state is also experiencing a period of recovery.

This is also good.

I sent a rather pointed email to my (disappearing/fair weather/lazy/good for nothing - delete as appropriate) friends today. I'm rather proud of it. It managed to imply that we had been through a period of hell on earth and they should have cared, without actually explicitly blaming, pointing the finger, or using self-pity. Sometimes being a writer is so useful! Again, I feel renewed and clever and just a little bit smug. Which is nice after feeling for so long like a piece of dried up chewing gum stuck to the be-trainered foot of a stinking chav.

Ew, what a stunning piece of imagery! Sometimes I scare myself...

Here Comes the Sun

Just had a lovely lunch with Him.

Due to credit shuffling with the help of a charming chap at Barclaycard named Wayne (who actually thought it was funny that I wanted more money to use to 'buy shoes and nice underwear' - it WAS a joke!) and a less charming but equally accomodating bird at Egg, we now have sufficent funds (once added to the £400 off Ebay) to meet the bills, provided nothing else goes seriously wrong.

SO we celebrated with a lunch of complicated coffees and yummy italian sandwiches in the sunny window of our favourite cafe. And your neurotic heroine only cried once (with happiness...)

Of course nothing is ever certain, particularly in my life, but things may well be getting better.

I have also decided that, using the genius of Ebay, I am going to try and raise enough to buy some lovely new clothes for our long-awaited holiday. I have so much crap lying around that would benefit other people far more than me...

Of course, that's if I can remember how to shop after all this time!

My So-Called Perfect Life

Since we’ve been married, our friends (both individual and mutual) seem to have detached from us. There seems to be a feeling that now we have each other, we don’t need anyone else. And more frighteningly, people seem to have the impression that because we are married and live in a nice house, we have no problems and no need of support or friendship.

Well guess what? We don’t have a perfect life. Here are some factoids you might like to know – I’m telling you lot because at the moment, I’m not strong enough to tell my friends to their faces:

We are £35,000 in debt

His family hate me, and think I stole and corrupted their little boy. They talk about us behind our backs all the time, then lie about it.

I’ve put on two stone since moving in with Him, and sometimes I have panic attacks about how ugly I am that are so bad I feel like I’m drowning.

He wants kids one day, but when we talk about it all I can do is panic about how it will ruin our lives – but I can’t keep telling Him that, because the disappointment on His face crucifies me.

How’s that for perfect? How’s that for ‘so happy they don’t need friends’? How’s that for the charmed life of the token ‘grown-up’ couple?

How's that for the naked truth?

Today's News in Brief

Life ticks on.

I still feel vaguely sick all the time, we still have no cash, and no matter how much we make we still seem to be permanently £150 short of what we need this month (I blame the charges...)

He is all fired up about a new pro-active approach, where we complain about the poor customer service we keep getting, petition Natwest for being crap, ring up companies and try and negotiate paying later... blah de blah. I haven't the heart to tell Him that banks etc don't give a fuck about customer service, or their customers. Gotta love Him for trying though...

So tonight I will be spending several hours phoning people who don't like us and trying to make them see that we are good people who deserve to be treated with courtesy and respect. Don't much fancy my chances...

In other news: I am craving a change of scene; My hair is going through a fabulous phase; I'm only reading chicklit because the worrying has fried my brain; My concentration span is even lower than usual; I haven't eat so much pasta pesto since I was a student; I'm obsessed with the flights I could get on Ryanair to escape; I hate happy people; I've physically run out of tears and when I cry only dry sobs come out; This blog is becoming the most depressing reading since the Atkins Diet.

"It's Quiet" Said Rhubarb

"Too quiet" said Custard (obscure 1980's references r us...)

Things have gone very quiet on the financial front. Money is pouring in from Ebay (I made £140 today...), and the next batch of DDs are supposed to go out on Wednesday, which is do-able provided Paypal does its thing on time. We've not even had any nasty letters for a few days... Which of course, me being me, makes me nervous. There is only one company which could potentially get mean, and that's to the tune of about £90, so it could be a hell of a lot worse. But still, bad luck has dogged us lately, and I'm not buying this current run of better luck...

Good weekend was had by all though. Very chilled, and with much reduced stress levels it almost felt like we were back to normal. I've been wondering lately what life might actually be like once we're both bringing in a regular paypacket, and both are secure in our jobs (i.e. after May 31st). I think it might be good. It's also worth mentioning that my 6 month probationary period ends on 6th June, and I get a pay rise (to the tune of about £500). Good things in the offing (fingers crossed, touching wood, praying on holy relics...)!

If nothing else, I might be able to take the book off hold. I haven't written a word since the whole money-meltdown happened, and am hoping and praying that this writers block will subside once all the stress does. Bloody hope so, anyway!

Oh, and one other thing: I bought my bikini on Sunday, using leftover Debehams vouchers from the wedding. Not as hideous as expected (the sight of me in it, not the bikini itself - I would hardly buy a hideous bikini would I?!)

So... things are quiet.

Wonder when the next storm will blow in?

Tunnel, Light at the End of

It seems that Jellie may be my lucky star.

Miraculously, while I was having a good old ranty sob down the phone to her last night (sorry my lovely!), He managed to speak to someone at the verminous NatWest who actually had more than three braincells. Hard to find, I'm sure you'll agree. Anyway, the situation has now been resolved, at least to a point where we don't need to find a ridculous sum of money by next Tuesday.

Ebay, as you will see if you follow the link to the left, is also looking healthy.

Oh, and of course the fact that the British public finally stuck it to Tony just a little bit last night also helps my mood!

Obviously I'm not about to stop worrying just yet, but I haven't puked or burst into tears for a whole 15 hours. This is progress...

And while I'm not making a victory speech (long way to go, etc etc), I would just like to quickly thank all those who have offered advice, and nice thoughts, by email and in comments. Especially my wonderful amiga Jellie and the lovely Neil.

I may post more later, but having had three hours sleep post-election-coverage, I'm not feeling too lucid just yet!

xx

The Personal is Political

Usually after a post like yesterday's, I would come bowling in this morning, and write something about how normal service is resumed, I'm fine, it was a moment of weakness, yadda yadda yadda. But the truth is, I've been feeling sick with fear and stress for so many days now that I've forgotten what's it like not to feel that way. The situation hasn't changed, and neither have my feelings. Our financial lives are a catastrophic mess. So if this makes you feel uncomfortable, you might as well piss off now. Because this isn't going to get any better until possibly May 31st when we finally get paid again.

BUT that's not what I want to talk about this morning.

I arrived at the polling station at 7:45am this morning, and the only person in sight apart from the officials was a very cold looking Tory campaigner who tried to change our minds at the last minute.

I think not.

Inside, two smiley old ladies processed us, handed us the ballot papers, and directed us to those flimsy little booths. It took three seconds to make those all-important little crosses. Then it's the challenge (and early in the morning it really IS a challenge) of working out which ballot goes in which box. Once the smiley old man approved my guesswork, we thanked the smiley old ladies and left. Passing the shivering Tory on the way out, I even resisted the temptation to smirk...

It's strange what a buzz voting gives me. I suppose it's the great gift of democracy - the hopeful feeling that in two minutes on a chilly May morning, you may have had a hand in deciding the country's future.

Tonight, as always, I will be staying up til the result is pretty much decided. There's a great sense of hope to this election for me which was lacking in the last one. Not just for my chosen party, but I think generally. It's been an ugly fight, but it's an open field, and while I have no doubt that Blair will stay in, I'm very interested to see what happens.

In other news: I am very chuffed to have been declared Neil's sexondrumkits idol; pasta with mayonnaise is a cheap and surprisingly nice dinner; my skin has broken out like a teenager's due to stress; I'm in love with my old dirty-green shoes from accessorize and haven't worn anything else for over a week; everyone at work thinks I'm cool, capable and sensible(?!); I spend up to an hour a day crying in the toilets and no-one has noticed.

Not All New Experiences Are Good

Today I vomited because of stress for the first time. A particularly unlovely experience.

His financial situation is falling down around His ears. Mine is holding fairly steady, but as all the cash I have is currently buried in the joint account, it's still not a rosy picture. As for the joint account itself... well, we were on track with the whole ebay thing, til He got a scary scary letter from His credit card saying they would take Him to court unless He paid £230 by next week. Needless to say, we don't have £230. Or at least we do have some of it, but that will fuck the household bills etc.

It's like going to rob Peter to pay Paul, only to find that Peter's lying in a bleeding heap on the floor having already been done over by a nasty mugger.

Hence the stress vomiting.

And I thought bulimia was ugly...

For the first time in my entire life, I actually feel like there may be something that not even I, the great blagger/fixer/fast-talker, can find a solution to.

Our life is falling down around our ears and the worst part is, having always thought we were well supplied with friends and confidantes, there is not one person I can think of turning to for help.

What does that say about us? What does that say about me?

Own a Piece of Mookmoo

(Not in a gross way)

Go here: http://search.ebay.co.uk/_W0QQsassZvintageniki and buy my stuff!

Go on, you know you want to.

Or, hell, if you really love me, ask for paypal details and send me a quid. I promise to spend it on wine...

Onwards and Downwards...

Well, I think the ballad of Mookmoo and Beano has sat in the top spot for long enough now, thanks to the bank holiday weekend. So on to other things...

The skintness continues, though we've raised £150 from Ebay so far, and only need to raise another £200 or so, so it could be worse. Still lots to sell, and hopefully my election betting prowess on Ladbrokes.com will pay off as well...

Seven weeks til we go on holiday, four til we get paid again. Waiting, waiting...

Bank holiday weekend was quiet, but nice. Drank too much cheap wine and watched too much TV, but nobody's perfect. Had a very amusing visit from Cuck, Riptorn and family, which was shit, but at least gave some amusement value. My god, are those people a nightmare. How He managed to come from the same gene pool is beyond me!

Little to report, other than that. Feeling quite political and angry generally due to the run-up to the election on Thursday. Heard this morning that a poll amongst young voters said they would be more inclined to vote if they could do so by text. Yes, cos wow does that ten minutes out of your day once every four years inconvenience you! I mean, for fuck's sake!!!!!

Oops, political rant coming... will take it to the politics thread!