Death and Champagne

So, my maternal grandfather died on Saturday. Not to sound callous, but having seen him less than five times in the last fifteen years, I am not unduly upset, though of course it's always sad when someone dies. I am rather upset, however, that LotusMomma has decided not to fly in for the funeral, and has ordered Him and I to go instead. Not only do I think that this is a Bad Idea and one that she will come to regret deeply, but it also means we have to try and borrow a car, arrange time off work, and find some money to get up north for the day. And if I sound like a heartless bitch then so be it.

Successfully entertained Prince, Princess, 007 and Dollface on Saturday afternoon. Then spent Saturday night in an exhausted heap on the sofa. I am NOT having one! They drain all of your energy and make you feel old and decrepit because you aren't flexible enough to win at Twister anymore.

Saw all the Mob on Sunday for curry in Ealing. I do adore my family. Mad as a bag of frogs the lot of them, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Too much champagen though, and I'm suffering this morning.

Not suffering enough not to be going out again tonight though - up to Our Nation's Capital to see Mockley before she moves to NY, with a possible cameo or two from Sweepy, PianoMan, and maybe Him as well.

Hurrah for my social life!

News Just In...

The beautiful, special and altogether wonderful Queen of the Irish, one of my all time bestest friends, has just got engaged to her very lovely boyfriend, who shall now be honoured with a blog name of... hmm... I'll have to think about it!

ANYWAY I am overjoyed for her, and wish them all the luck in the world. It couldn't happen to a nicer girl!

One Step Forward, Forty Two Steps Back

Got charge-fucked by Natwest again to the tune of £63 - for £1 lacking.

Worried sick about having made lots of social commitments next month without thinking enough about how to pay for them.

Really really really don't want to cancel going to the big Family shindig on Sunday but scared we'll have to pay out for food and drink and we can't afford it.

I would like to get very very very drunk tonight and drown in a vat of red wine. But I can't because tomorrow we stupidly agreed to have Prince, Princess, 007 and Dollface over for the afternoon and play games, and eat pizza and Haribo.

Ick. I don't like my life today.

(She says, curling up under the desk for another crying fit)

I don't like myself today either. Sometimes I think I'm a bit pathetic.

Please Note

The Dramaqueen email address has now changed to newlyweddramaqueen@yahoo.co.uk

You can still reach me by clicking on the sidebar link, but for my regular emailers, please update your address books.

Merci beaucoup,

Mookmoo x

Oh Come All Ye Faithful

Jellie and I got very drunk last week and had a hugely deep and meaningful about relationships and things, and there is one point that really stands out for me: up until Him, I have never had a boyfriend I wasn’t unfaithful to at least once (though at risk of coming across as a real superbitch, I should add that I’m including kissing as unfaithfulness in this arena). Therefore, I wilfully destroyed, or at least had a large hand in the destruction of, all of my past relationships.

It took me a very long time to tell Him this, obviously, for fear He would instantly dump me on the grounds of inevitable future cheating. However I should point out that I am NOT planning to cheat on Him at any time ever. I should also point out that a lot of the cheating was because I used to base my self-esteem entirely on how many people wanted to sleep with me at any given time. I don’t do that any more. Well, okay, I do, but it’s not the ONLY measure I use for self-esteem these days!

However, the main reason I find myself dwelling on this is that self-destructing all of your relationships does make you look back in calmer times and start ‘what-if’ing. Or, in my case, looking up ex-boyfriends on Google. Which, of course, is not in any way being unfaithful, but I do feel a bit guilty because I know I’d be pissed off if I found out He was doing the same. Though all His exes were skanks, and I doubt He remembers any of their full names anyway.

So, today I have been mainly googling the men of my past. And what did I find out? Well, one of them is still a pro rugby player, but that’s hardly a surprise seeing as he was one when we were shagging. Another was taken to court for benefit fraud and featured in the local paper when he was found guilty, but he was a total bastard so ha de ha ha! And another is now a Community Police Officer doing lovely things for local schools and stuff like that. Which is weird because he was NEVER on the right side of the law when I knew him!

And the ex I liked best (not much competition mind you, so it’s not as much of a compliment as it might sound, though it IS a compliment nonetheless) is working for a university in the States, which is of course spookily similar to what I’m doing. Well, it would be if there weren’t thousands of universities all over the world requiring tens of thousands of staff! But hey, a nice little bit of karmic coincidence is always good.

The rest I couldn’t find – either because they have common names or because they are un-newsworthy. Or, of course, because I still know what some of them are up to and thus have no need to google. But the whole exercise gave me a mixed feeling of calm and guilt. Calm because the ones I hurt or treated badly are clearly, or at least hopefully, doing fine. Guilt because, well, should you still worry about people from the distant past when you're now happily married? Especially if you treated them at the time like disposable ego boosts...

Disposable Furniture and Overpriced Coffee

Yes, I know I've posted once today already. But I wrote this during my little holiday, and I wanted to share it with you...

Disposable Furniture and Overpriced Coffee

Having spent my teenage years being tortured for my refusal to run with the pack, and then having spent my subsequent years being celebrated for the same, it is a source of great sorrow to me that I have fallen for two of the most generic obsessions of the 21st century.

The first, of course, is Ikea, which I have mentioned a few times before. While on the one hand I hate that it is possible to play ‘spot the Ikea’ every time you visit someone’s home (Sparky and Coxy have our lamps and bookcase, Monsieur Coustard has our sofa, LadyDi has our TV table and the dining chairs that I really covet), on the other hand I can’t resist the chunky modern styles, the plethora of useful/useless home accessories, and most of all the price.

I keep thinking I should cut out the semi-disposable Swedish furniture and go find a good junk shop/flea market/antiques fair. But let’s face it, that isn’t going to happen. I’ve been seduced. They’ve brainwashed me. I even want to visit Sweden just to see if it is really as green, clean and inviting as it looks in the Ikea magazine. Yep, I’m lost.

The second obsession, however, is one that I’ve ebbed and flowed with over the last seven or so years. I go through periods of cold turkey, followed by binges that last weeks, then try to ration myself and somehow never quite cut it out altogether. No, I’m not talking about booze (or cigarettes for that matter), but Starbucks.

Yes, I know they’re an evil global empire. I do. But I also know that they make grande skinny gingerbread lattes that wake me up in the mornings and send me to work with a (caffeine high) smile on my face. I detest being one of the coffee cup carrying posse at 8am each day, but I still do it at least once a week. You can tell I’m a Starbucks expert by the fact that I get to the counter and order fluidly. There’s no stumbling over pronunciation, debating about syrup, or forgetting to specify how ‘caff’ I want it. I always know what I want. Hell, I even get the top quality chat du jour with the guy behind the counter about the new coffee beans from Africa and the introduction of sugar-free hazelnut syrup.

The only good thing about my Starbucks addiction is that I can’t afford to keep splurging on it. And this has proved my salvation. I don’t feel quite so bad about funding global evil if I’m not doing it more than once a week (yes, you can abuse me for my shallow hypocrisy – just hit ‘comment’ at the bottom of the post).

Here is my ultimate fear though: what if Ikea started putting Starbucks concessions in its stores? The thought sometimes keeps me awake at night. Me and all the other hopeless sheep…

Is That It?

Was in a very good mood this morning. It's now 3:30pm and I am emphatically not in a good mood anymore. Honestly, 5 days of rest, relaxation and winding down, destroyed by 7 hours at work.

It was a good little holiday though. And with the exception of the last few hours, being 25 is actually alright so far. Well, it's not any different to 24 really, but I can live with that. I probably should write about what I did on my holiday, but my brain is fried from all the drinking (much of it Jellie's fault), so I shall just mention a few random facts instead:

He thinks I am being held back by loving Him because I spent most of yesterday whining about being forced to live in this shitty little country. I had to remind Him that as soon as the nights draw in and my SAD revs up, I always start referring to this nation as a shitty backwards little pisshole. I'll get over it around April.

I seem to be doing a lot of planning ahead at the moment, and actually am thinking of following some of the plans through. Which would be a new acheivement for the newly-adult me. If things work out, I'll have my MA in a couple of years, and be working on my PhD by the time I'm 30. Well, you never know.

On a shallower note, I now have a new bag and some hot new jeans. And best of all, a Boggle pen! I love birthdays. They mean presents (we'll gloss over the fact that they also mean ageing - I'm trying to be positive).

Oh, and I get paid on Monday and I will have some money for shopping and fun and things like that. This is good. Especially considering the whole social-life-resurrection thing.

Now, I could ramble on for hours, but I don't have hours, and I think you'd get bored. So I shall leave it here for now.

Muchas smooches, xx

What's the Plan Pedro*?

I shan't be seeing you lovely people for a few days. I am off for a short break of birthday related rest and relaxation, but never fear, I shall be back next week.

Plans for the next five days include...

Seeing Jellie for some much needed wine and gossip

Spending quality time with Him

Shopping for lovely new clothes with my birthday money (assuming I get any!)

Sleeping

I am looking forward to it greatly, and shall let you know all about it when I get back.

Big love,

Mookmoo xx

*Pedro is a fictional chap in my Spanish textbook. I'm not fond of Stan.

The Resurrection of My Social Life

Fucking hell. I've got plans with friends. Shocker or what?! Suddenly lots of old friends have crawled out of the woodwork (with the exception of Jellie who never crawled into the woodwork) and made plans to see me. As have my family. I am flattered, excited, and scared in equal measures.

In the next few weeks I am: having a wine and gossip evening with Jellie, having dinner in London with Mockley, having Sunday lunch with the extended family, visiting my little sis during her visit to England, spending a weekend in Edinburgh with LadyDi, and going Saturday shopping with Sweepy.

Hurrah!

Blood is Thicker Than Pinot Noir

I left Him yesterday.

Admittedly, only for five minutes or so, but I did leave Him.

I'd just had enough. Enough of this crappy substandard life, in this crappy substandard town, in this crappy substandard little country. For five minutes I was on my way somewhere else.

But... well, we worked it out instead. Talking, red wine, more talking, some falling over... I could go into everything we talked about, but firstly it isn't anything you haven't already heard (for the most part), and secondly, there isn't much point rehashing it all. So I'll just give you the edited highlights.

I told Him I hate the way He puts his family first and sometimes judges me by their standards. I also told Him how much I hate the way He judges Himself by their standards. I told Him that unless He could put a little faith in His own choices and decisions (e.g. the decision to marry me!) then I might as well leave because He's making Himself unhappy by using other people's warped standards to measure His life.


He told me He was scared I would never want to have children (fair), and scared that I won't settle in the country (fair). I pointed out to Him that He isn't sure about having kids either (when he isn't chanelling the spirit of fucking MIL), and that He has often expressed interest in living abroad for a while.

To cut a long story short, I miss the man I fell in love with. I think He misses Himself too. And I miss the me I used to be before I got so fucking bored and dissatisfied with this crappy substandard life.

So?

Well, I didn't leave.

We're going to leave Essex and take it from there.

I guess maybe He's finally chosen me over them.

Maybe.

Quarter Century

Feeling in a pre-birthday contemplative mood/strop.

When I was in my early twenties I actively looked forward to my birthday, because my life really was getting better with age. I mean, I grew out of being miserable and insecure, made amazing friends, started to work out who I am, even stopped gaining self esteem through casual sex. I was on the up baby!

Now, the biggest achievement I have is being married, and no offence to Him but that was never on my wish list (have I mentioned that before? I have deja vu...)

I have no money, lots of debt, a job I am rapidly coming to hate over the last little while, due to the joys of my role being 'adapted' to suit the new team structure (for adapted read 'turned into a tedious admin nightmare of a marketing role' - sorry, didn't I quit marketing because I HATED it?![have I told you that story? Remind me to tell it sometime, it's actually quite funny])

What else? Well, I hate Essex, and have no real option to move right now. But you already know all about that.

Basically, I'm pissed off.

I mean, I have plans for the future, such as our round the world trip in our 30th year, and the hope of doing my MA. But they're so far in the future as to be almost imaginary dreams.

25. Pile of shite. My birthday is officially cancelled (though if people want to send me random presents just because they love me, that would be fine).

The Hair Poll - Results

Morning All

Before I get on to the 'proper' posting for the week, here are the results of the recent hair dye poll:

There were 21 votes in all, which is actually 17 people, plus Jellie and Neil, who count for two votes each because they actually know what I look like. And here (drum roll please) are the results:

"golden blond streaks with intertwined deep mahogony" - 4 votes (Jellie and Neil)

Blonde - 5 votes

Brunette/Brown/Natural colour - 2 votes

Green - 1 vote

Shave it off - 1 vote

"Don't be so vain, it's embarassing to read" - 1 vote (then don't read it dickhead)

Red/dark red - 7 votes

So, as of Saturday, I have dark red hair. Which, as it's the same colour it was when I met Him, inspired Him to shave all his hair off to a number 1 (which is how it was when I met Him), and we then played a weekend-long game of "do you remember what it was like when we were first together", which involved lots of crime fighting, snuggling, and semi-naked video watching.

So muchas gracias amigos (first Spanish lesson this pm), for the best weekend I've had in ages...

The Inequities of the Selfish, and the Tyranny of Evil Men

There are times when I get very depressed about the state of the world (and these are normally the times my blog moves from the personal to the political. You must know this by now). The thing is though, it's not necessarily the actual state of the world that depresses me. I mean, poverty, injustice, prisoners of conscience, war, disease, famine, lack of political freedom... all these things and more are profoundly wrong, depressing and sad. But here's what really pisses me off, and what really makes me realise that in many ways there is little hope for the human race:

Nobody cares that much.

Seriously. I am hard pressed these days to find anyone that cares more about, say, child soldiers than they do about the price of their ceramic hair straighteners, or whether they will get a pay rise next month. And I'm guilty of this a lot of the time myself. I'm not saying we should all be martyrs to a cause, but it says something when the contestants on Miss World are more likely to get press coverage for uttering the words 'world peace' then political activists are, and that's only because they're wearing bikinis while saying it (the Miss World girls, not the activists).

Historically, men (not sexism, just fact) became leaders because they were considered to be more noble and more righteous than normal men. Leaders were supposed to stand up for the poor, the opressed, and the weak, and ensure that their voices were heard. This is the basis on which democracy was established. And, most importantly, these leaders gave the citizens of a country the right to be selfish. Damn, if you've got someone in power looking out for you, making the best decisions for you and everyone else, keeping you safe and secure, then you can toddle off and worry about your hair straighteners all you like, because you don't need to worry about the wider issues.

But in these days where the most powerful countries in the world are ruled by self-serving egomaniacs who are more concerned with maintaining and promoting their own power than they are in serving the people who elected them, we cannot afford to be as selfish as we are. And for our own selfishness, and therefore for the state of the world today, we have only ourselves to blame.

Hola Amigos!

Work have agreed to give me two hours off each Monday afternoon to learn Spanish in our Languages faculty. This is a Good Thing, as I sincerely believe that learning new stuff (at least for me) is an excellent antidote to my-life-is-boring-and-tedious-and-no-fun-and-I-want-to-scream syndrome.

Or so I hope.

Ology

Generally I take astrology, numerology, crapology etc with a gigantic pinch of sarcasm. But today I was bored, and someone sent me a link to some birthdate personality calculator bollocks and it was actually very accurate. So here, printed below for you all to see, is what it said...

"A Life Path 5 person is usually very versatile, adventurous, and progressive. With a 5 life path, you are one of those people who is always striving to find answers to the many questions that life poses. You want to be totally unrestrained, as this is the sign of freedom and independence. You abhor routine and boring work, and you are not very good at staying with everyday tasks that must be finished on time. You are, however, a good communicator, and you know how to motivate people around you, perhaps inclining you to be a teacher of some sort. A love of adventure may dominate your life. This may take the form of mental or physical manifestation, but in either case, you thrill to the chance for exploration and blazing new trails. You are apt to be multi-talented, but just as likely to suffer from some lack of direction, and there is often some confusion surrounding your ambition. It is important for you to find a job that provides thought-provoking tasks rather than routine and redundant responsibilities. You do best dealing with people, but the important thing is that you have the freedom to express yourself at all times. You have an innate ability to think through complex matters and analyze them quickly, but then be off to something new. In the most negative application or use of the 5 energies, you could become very irresponsible in tasks and decisions concerning your home and business life. The total pursuit of sensation and adventure can result in your becoming self-indulgent and totally unaware of the feelings of those around you. In the worse case situations negative 5's are very undependable and self-serving."

Since I find it hard to believe that this accuracy is more than just coincidence, please do the test yourselves and tell me whether or not yours works...

http://www.paulsadowski.com/birthday.asp