I have been thinking for a long time wondering when the next blog post will come out of me. After a weird time of thinking about what I like and what I dont like in life generally, about who and I am who I dont want to be, (I think mostly triggered by having a nice boyfriend who is super cool and a major dickhead at the same time just like me – you know so I can seriously CHILL OUT about a lot of thing) lots of things stopped (I deleted everything of mine from the lameatnames.com blog for example but Valeria keeps spreading “the word” there) and I just started collecting cook books and talking at length channeling my cat.
Seriously mates, I can see how those crazy cat ladies end up! It is just too easy. There I will be buried under a mountain of bubble wrap from eBay and etsy stinking of piss, Hobart walking all over me and my boyfriend saying “Dont worry dear” and I poo myself yet again.
But before I get to that level, this space in between I think is called still “growing up” or maybe when you are a grown up it is called “maturing”.
Maybe I was a thick kid but I thought you got to a certain age and that was it. You are a grown up. You have finished growing up. But my experience to date is for that not to be the case. In 18 months when I turn 40, will I have stopped all this “teen angst”? No I dont think so. I hope that I dont turn into one of those smug pricks who are in their 40’s writing for a music paper pretending like teen angst is a thing to laugh at though. Cause all those smug pricks who dress like they are teenagers anyway only have one thing on their side real teenagers dont – and that is perspective through having lived more years. Teen angst still sucks. That is why you see so many pictures of 40 somethings on dating websites taken by themselves on their mobile phone in their little bedrooms. Same thing.
What was I saying?
Actually I wasnt saying it yet but I wanted to get round to cooking. Other than my cat and my boyfriend, this is the thing I think about the most. If I didnt have a job, I would have dinner parties every night and cook and cook all day. The Booyah Cook could make a re-appearance. However I am a bit of quandry – if I want to start writing the cooking on the blog, I really dont want people to accidently end up on a picture of my knickers. Or maybe it doesnt matter.
Health report – Hobart puked over a shitty pair of jeans that Ant was trying to throw in the bin but I wanted to keep for painting. I have an itchy thing behind my ear. Are the two related? I doubt it.