Wednesday, December 29, 2010

RIP Party Animalus

My writing partner Gillian who is @misssym on twitter made me laugh today when she tweeted: I have had a shocking hangover today. Should your actual hips hurt?

That statement just about sums up the perils of geriatric boozing. For example I am nearly fourty but I always go out on New Year's Eve and this year I was gearing up for another night of skimpy dresses, high heels, dancing the night away at a party doing salsa and ending up with the mother of all hangovers. But my husband but the kibosh on those New Year's Eve plans by pointing out that since we had plans to go out on the night after 'you won't be able to handle it since if you go out New Year's you'll want to go to bed at eight o'clock the day after.' Fair dos, he was right. So I will be going to bed at 10 pm on New Years after a few quiet drinks with friends - how sad is that? Sad but absolutely necessary. Because these days drinking is so dreadful the day after that it's almost not worth it.

When I was young there was no thrill like it - Friday night, getting dolled up with the girls, listening to Wham! - going out in London, pub crawling, chatting up the lads, falling drunk out of a taxi, drunken snogging or not etc, analysing the highs and lows of the night out to death with the girls the next day over a fry up and then doing a hair of the dog Saturday lunchtime. But I remember even when I was young, in my twenties, I knew there was going to be a sell by date on these kinds of excesses. I remember once seeing this woman at a party who I thought was really old back then but was probably only in her late thirties going upstairs with a bloke and getting off with or shagging him and coming down an hour later all dishevelled and it looking like it was a kind of 'one off' thing and I thought - No Way Jose am I going to be in my late thirties doing the sort of thing we all do in our late teens/early twenties. Sure I've come down some stairs at a party with my trousers inside out wondering why everyone's laughing but I was fifteen and surely we've all done something similar in our salad days?

So just as drunken sex with some bloke upstairs at a party no idea what his name is pretty much reaches its sell by date by the time one hits one's mid-twenties, hangovers become worse and worse as time goes on. And when you have kids, frankly it's just not worth it because looking after kids with a hangover is akin to listening to a stand up comedy routine by William Hague.

Recently I read a really intresting post by From Marketing To Milk about the Brits relationship to booze and it did make me think. Do you think Brits have an unhealthy relationship to alcohol even taking into account that until recently most UK flats were drafty and had poor heating, plus it's dark for six months of the year so filling up with booze is a cheap and cheerful way to keep yourself warm? Maybe, I'm not sure.

Nevertheless I never thought I'd embrace sensible drinking on New Years. So that's it then - RIP Party Animalus. I'm officially no longer a party animal. What about you? Are hangovers just not worth it any more for you and what are you doing on New Year's Eve?



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Monday, December 20, 2010

Christmas Trainwrecks

Homemade Christmas photo cards always seem like a good idea after one too many eggnoggs. But in the cold light of day some 'concepts' seem a little out of place.

Waiting for Santa in our Christmas Pyjamas

Would you Adam and Eve it?

Trauma: That was the Christmas I developed my SM predilection for being electrocuted

1960s teething ring


No, just, no

Ronald McDonald outcreeps himself

Shagadelic


Some Santas were never meant to be Santas

Nancy with Ronald Reagan


Nancy with Mr T


Nancy with J R Ewing

Which one's your favourite? Feel free to take these concepts and run with them....your relatives will thank you I'm sure.

In the meantime have a wonderful Christmas from whichever snow infested corner of the globe you're currently shivering in. I'm so glad that office parties are now part of my dark past but if you are toiling in an office I'll see you next year and I hope you have some good stories about your office party and how you got blind drunk and told your boss you often have sexual fantasies about him etc. 

Remember: Stay safe and don't drunk text your ex-boyfriend this Christmas requesting a 'quick one for old time's sake'

Hugs
Emma
xx

Also: If you fancy sending me something for Christmas I'll take a tin of Roses or Quality Street. I know I could send one to myself but that's like buying a t-shirt bearing the slogan: I am a greedy pig.




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Wednesday, December 08, 2010

Bleating Hell


I just found out on Home Office Mum's blog about her marvellous new invention called a Bleat - where twitter and blogs collide. She says "A Bleat is a random thought you have (which you'd like to share) and is too long for a tweet and not quite long enough for a blog post in its own right. I was going to call it a Bleet, but according to the UrbanDictionary, a Bleet is: 'When A male rubs his penis on the outside of a womans vagina. No insertion only rubbing inbetween the vaginal lips of the woman. the step befor sex.' There is so much I don't know. Sigh.

Anyway, Bleat is better as people can then say: "What are you bleating on about?" See? Perfect. So please feel free to create your own bleats and set the trend in motion. I wonder if I can copyright it..."

It was at that point I realized I was born to Bleat so here I go:

Grey hair looks good...on Helen Mirren and that's about it
#goinggrey I don't mind the recent emergence of wrinkles, bags under eyes or the fact that my knees are going a bit saggy like a partially deflated souffle. What I do mind is going grey - right now it's just the bits near the ears and I am assaulting it with expensive high lights. Only the grey hair has this wierd wiry texture like wire wool which makes it aesthetically unappealing. I don't think grey hair is 'distinguished' or makes me look 'authoritative'. To be honest it's at times like these that I'd swap the grey hair for a face full of acne. I mean is there anything worse than grey hair? It's like your cells saying: "Look love we can't be bothered to keep producing hair colour. I mean come on you old mare you've fulfilled your biological duty by having kids and now you're fit for the knackers yard." What do you think?


#celebrityweightloss I'm so over it. I mean come on Kelly Osbourne if I had a colonic irrigation three times a day, plus a chef to cook me delicious low fat meals and some Nazi to scream at me and make me do a hundred press ups from the comfort of my home gym then believe me I'd manage to lose 30lb. What's difficult about losing weight for non-celebs is the near impossibility of motivating oneself to go to the gym in winter (too cold) and in summer (the weather's so nice why would I want to be cheek by jowl with a bunch of sweaty men in tight spandex stinking the place up on the running machines?) A diet book is waiting to be written, possibly by me: Lardasses Get Off Your Butts: A Guide to Losing Weight for People On An Income of Under $400,000 a year



#branstonpickle You don't know what you've got till it's gone eh? Now until recently there was a British aisle in my local supermarket which sold spotty dick in tins, a variety of mindblowingly delicious biscuits including Penguins, chocolate digestives and caramel hobnobs. Now obviously no one apart from me was buying this stuff because I'm pretty sure no American knows what to do with tinned spotty dick, or for that matter baby poo coloured Piccalilly. I have now found that the British shelf has basically been shelved and now there are taco shells in the place where Branston Pickle nestled beside Bisto Gravy. No you'll be pleased to know I didn't do my nut and go psycho in the supermarket holding the manager ransom until he said he'd reinstate the British shelf. It was a Code Orange situation, yes, but I could see their dilemma, there was not much profit in the delicious stodgy fare. The issue I'm now faced with is that unless I get it mail order I cannot get Branston Pickle for love nor money. What the hell am I going to do? Alright, I know, get Branston Pickle to sponsor my blog and get them to send me a lifetime's supply. But until that happens what do I do folks? Make my own bleedin' pickle from scratch? This is serious and I don't need any sarcastic comments about this issue.

#kidstelevision Luckily we have disconnected the TV so the kids only watch movies on Netflix. But before that they were obsessed with a programme called iCarly which basically featured very bright colours and lots of screeching. Bring back the old days I say, when you could pitch a kids' TV programme thus: It's about a teddy from darkest Peru who likes marmalade who lives with a human family and is always breaking stuff. Paddington Bear I will love you forever. They just don't make em like that anymore. Sob.

#goingsenile I've always been forgetful but now things are getting ridiculous. These days in the morning I say to my kids: "Who am I again?" and they chorus "You are Emma Kaufmann from England." Still, as long as I have the kids they'll be able to tell me what year it is etc.
And now I'm gonna tag these people to give me their best Bleats:

Lori at RRSAHM

The divine Mrs Woog

4 kids, 20 suitcases and a beagle

Misssy Martin

Note From Lapland

Very Bored In Catalunya

But if any of you want to have a good bleat, be my guest and go right ahead!



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Friday, December 03, 2010

2010 Roundup - Excited about the 3-D royal wedding!!

[this is a satire of those nauseating end of year letters people seem compelled to send. I did one for 2009 here]

Dear Friends,

It's that time of year once again. A time for me to gloat and show off as only I know how and tell me about how my year has gone.



It is common knowledge that I am pals with Prince Charles - I advised him before he married Di that the marriage would only end in tears, bulimia and her running off with an arab playboy but he decided to go ahead anyway. He's lived to regret it of course but I'm not one to rub salt in a wound and the other day he got in touch by sending me some 3-D glasses. I thought 'that's a bit cheap' until I realized it was his way of trying to build bridges. I was of course already in the know and had already ordered my 3-D television - in case you didn't hear the news: the Kate-Wills Marriage will be screened in 3-D! Of course I am expecting my invitation to the nuptials from Charles any day now but I need a Plan B in case I can't make it to Westminster Abbey.



I also penned Katie Middleton a letter suggesting a fairy theme for the wedding: Kate and William painted in blue latex with wings attached (think Tinkerbell and Peter Pan) as well as Westminster Abbey altered with CGA so that it looks like there are magic balls of pollen floating around in it. Also I suggested having 'ghosts of dead royals past' as part of the guest list. Wouldn't it be funny to have Princess Diana, Queen Victoria, Princess Margaret or even the Queen Mum sitting in the pews? Let's get creative and make it a royal wedding to remember, that's what I say.

I am in a bit of a quandry what to buy Prince William as a gift though. Right now I'm thinking of getting him a few boxes of the Rolls Royce of Condoms The condoms (from Condom, France) "combine luxury with lifestyle" and come in boxes lined in black velvet. "Condoms protect everyone from disease, ours protect from tackiness," states the Count Gil de Bizemont, the VP of the company. What do you think? I'm sure Kate would appreciate a deluxe ride.

Anyhow, sorry I was miles away. What have I been up to apart from corresponding with royalty? Well my daughter Skylark who is fifteen was going to be a model - she has a perfect bone structure - specially crafted by my husband who is a skilled plastic surgeon. But that was before I found out how little models earn. Did you know that you only get $750 for a Vogue shoot???!!!! After I heard that I told Skylar "sod that for a bag of soldiers." I mean I ask you, no little girl of mine is going to become anorexic just to earn that kind of pittance. So it's back to the drawing board. Might phone Paris Hilton or one of the Kardashians for some career advice for her.

Also we had a bit of a blip earlier on in the year when I found all sorts of naughty texts on my husband's cell phone from prostitutes. After I cut up all his suits and smashed his Ferrari he explained that I had acted irrationally and that it wasn't his fault. Being the big headed scientist slash plastic surgeon that he is he told me there was an explanation behind it. Promiscuity is in the genes apparently! Who knew? If only I'd known about that earlier I would have been able to tell Elin about it and she might not have had to go through that nasty divorce with Tiger.



I've saved the best for last: My adorable daughter Cecilia is now an amazing fashion designer. She makes me so proud. She is so modest, and so talented. And to think I started it all by getting her a sewing machine for her sixth birthday!! If you're reading this Kate Middleton: Cecilia is available to make your wedding dress.

So that's all for now, I've got to get dressed for a charity event ..can't remember what it's for. So, how was your year? Do tell me everything. I'm all ears.

Blessings to you all and hope to see you at THE wedding of the year in 2011

Emma
xx



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