Chris and I have been back in Birmingham at his parents house. It drove us both a bit mad to be there for a week (bless his parents, they're truly lovely!) but it made me realise the vast differences in the way Chris and I were brought up and the way it's affected our behaviour now. Where Chris is very tolerant of his parents bumbling and constant chit chat (as he puts it "mortally terrified of offending his mother, she's very sensitive") I would have told my parents to both shut up by the second day. Like I've put before, it's not supposed to be nasty but rather endearing.
So this is my year coming to an end. And being at Chris' parents and growing further and further into desperation, longing for my own 'personal time', I sat in bed writing about my year while Chris was being annoying downstairs.
So the obvious afflictions (some not really), meaning that I could talk about getting married but to be honest, I was trying to remember what song we played after we got married, and I can't for my life think of what it was. But really, the song that made this most impact this year had to be "Low" by Flo Rida. I think it's the perfect example of when irony turns into reality. Here is my brief history of the song:
January/February: This annoying song keeps being played on the radio, at least it's intermittently. Still, I am aggravated whenever I hear it. It's not charming whatsoever.
March: Chris and I are driving to Wales and are listening to the radio. We hear the song about 4 times on the 3 hour drive. It's very annoying and we ate it.
April: On the way home from Wales, we stop in a rest stop and see this little Welsh thug like children singing along to the song on their mobile. Equally if not more annoying.
May/June: one of the girls I used to work with loved the song and demanded the radio be turned up whenever it was played at work. It was usually played around 3 times a day on the same radio station.
June/July: Step Up 2 (the Streets) preview is played on television featuring that song. Because I am now unemployed I see it very regularly.
September: Chris and I in Canada. The song is starting to grow on us. We enjoy watching the video and I explain the tattoo on Flo Rida's back being the shape of Florida on its side, to look like a gun. We start dissecting the song. Chris thinks parts sound like UK garage, I like the part where he says: Turned around and gave that big booty a slap whoah!
October (or there about): We read this Facebook profile which lists 'Low' as the best song ever. We began agreeing.
November/December: Condone whenever the song is played on the radio. We heard it driving through Birmingham earlier this week and turned it up and car danced along.
I wonder what 2009 has in store? Maybe my dignity, good taste in music (again).
Wednesday 31 December 2008
Saturday 20 December 2008
troubling times for ladies
Last night I stupidly watched this show on BBC4 called WAG Wannabe. It was 1am and Chris and I had just finished Scarface (I'm still recovering from the flu so a lazy Friday night in isn't completely out of the question). Maybe I was all riled up from that but I just lost it on Chris whilst watching a show about women going to clubs, expecting footballers to buy them free champagne and they just think they have to laugh at their jokes in return, and then eventually they'll get married.
In the light of day, I don't really care anymore. But last night, as my over-educated husband and myself were getting ready for bed, me washing my face with $60 YSL face wash and poor Chris using the last vestiges of our £3 toothpaste I was fired up. And I just spouting "I hate girls" with thin exfoliator rubbed into my face. I went to bed so annoyed (mostly because I'm still all stuffed up, I couldn't come up with a convincingly great argument, just a typical one). This morning however, I feel a bit better about our species- that being girls of course.
A few weeks ago, I went out for dinner with my friend Suzy. She's very bright, so driven and extremely determined. She just finished her second architecture degree and with working in London in the 'building sector', keeping your job during this recession is fundamental. She had been a bit down because of her work situation, with everything being up in the air and all, and I of course have been a self-involved, self-righteous tit for the latter half of this year so together, we're great! But in all actuality, we were. We spent about 20 minutes griping about our lives but then spent another 2 1/2 hours saying nice things to each other and being supportive, which shock horror! was really nice. It may have been the many cocktails and bottle and half of wine we shared but I never realised how nice it is to truly believe and say nice, supportive things to someone. To tell Suzy that I do think she is one of the most focused, driven people I've ever met was a good thing, not only for her, but for me too. And for her to say nice, great things to me was really uplifting and gave me a nice little confidence boaster.
I'm sure this sounds all very hokey but for girls who spend a better portion of our time gossiping, complaining, griping about other people and ourselves, it's important to hear good things another girl thinks about you. I'm making it a new rule in 2009 to say positive things about my friends, to my friends.
Say later that night, Suzy went back to her house, had a Bailey's and discussed our bodies and all the physiological changes happening with age (this is because we went out for dinner to celebrate my birthday, I'm glad we just celebrated each other). Suzy's final suggestion to me was to buy a bigger bra. This is what good friends are for.
In the light of day, I don't really care anymore. But last night, as my over-educated husband and myself were getting ready for bed, me washing my face with $60 YSL face wash and poor Chris using the last vestiges of our £3 toothpaste I was fired up. And I just spouting "I hate girls" with thin exfoliator rubbed into my face. I went to bed so annoyed (mostly because I'm still all stuffed up, I couldn't come up with a convincingly great argument, just a typical one). This morning however, I feel a bit better about our species- that being girls of course.
A few weeks ago, I went out for dinner with my friend Suzy. She's very bright, so driven and extremely determined. She just finished her second architecture degree and with working in London in the 'building sector', keeping your job during this recession is fundamental. She had been a bit down because of her work situation, with everything being up in the air and all, and I of course have been a self-involved, self-righteous tit for the latter half of this year so together, we're great! But in all actuality, we were. We spent about 20 minutes griping about our lives but then spent another 2 1/2 hours saying nice things to each other and being supportive, which shock horror! was really nice. It may have been the many cocktails and bottle and half of wine we shared but I never realised how nice it is to truly believe and say nice, supportive things to someone. To tell Suzy that I do think she is one of the most focused, driven people I've ever met was a good thing, not only for her, but for me too. And for her to say nice, great things to me was really uplifting and gave me a nice little confidence boaster.
I'm sure this sounds all very hokey but for girls who spend a better portion of our time gossiping, complaining, griping about other people and ourselves, it's important to hear good things another girl thinks about you. I'm making it a new rule in 2009 to say positive things about my friends, to my friends.
Say later that night, Suzy went back to her house, had a Bailey's and discussed our bodies and all the physiological changes happening with age (this is because we went out for dinner to celebrate my birthday, I'm glad we just celebrated each other). Suzy's final suggestion to me was to buy a bigger bra. This is what good friends are for.
Thursday 18 December 2008
I just didn't feel like it ok?
I turned 24 on Tuesday. It was anti-climatic.
One resolution however is that my immigration woes are all sorted now for the next two years. Unless Chris and I divorce, I'll have full settlement then and be smooth sailing for life.
But why would I divorce such a hilarious creature? I didn't realise how astutely perfect Chris was for me. Not just as some lover but as some x factor entertainment. How did I find someone so unaware of his own ridiculous behaviour. Maybe it's my family and how we're now all conditioned to laugh at people when they say things strangely. This is what we do. I'm usually the butt of all jokes in the household because I feign enthusiasm and politeness quite well which evidently is subject to ridicule. Sometimes however my brother can say bonhead things too.
But Chris. All of last week was coming out with these zingers that were making me hysterical. By virtuous wonder (and constant repetition), I've been able to remember a few. Let me set the scene first:
We have been back at Chris' parents house just outside of Birmingham for a few days now:
me: what do you want to do?
Chris: I don't know, want to play a game?
me: Ok. Do you have a deck of cards, we could play poker?
Chris: Yeah but we have nothing to play for.
me: We could play strip poker?
Chris: Or we could get my mum's box of buttons!!
a few days after that:
Chris: So I was thinking, there must be a website that has new trivial pursuit questions on them. I saw I look them up, print off a few American questions for you, British questions for me, get my parents in on it too and have a game on the ol' board?
and a few days after that:
me: I'm going a bit stir crazy
Chris: Well I could drop you off somewhere
me: But I don't know how to get back here
Chris: well just give me a ding dong and I'll come and pick you right up
Maybe it was delirium or maybe it was cabin fever. Or maybe it's because Chris is the driest, moody least enthusiastic person and to hear any sort of child like excitement from him really tickles me. Or maybe because if I had said any of the previous things in front of my family I would have been shunned and excommunicated and most likely would have preferred it that way because my sisters and brother never stop laughing. We're not mean, and I'm not either. It's endearing.
One resolution however is that my immigration woes are all sorted now for the next two years. Unless Chris and I divorce, I'll have full settlement then and be smooth sailing for life.
But why would I divorce such a hilarious creature? I didn't realise how astutely perfect Chris was for me. Not just as some lover but as some x factor entertainment. How did I find someone so unaware of his own ridiculous behaviour. Maybe it's my family and how we're now all conditioned to laugh at people when they say things strangely. This is what we do. I'm usually the butt of all jokes in the household because I feign enthusiasm and politeness quite well which evidently is subject to ridicule. Sometimes however my brother can say bonhead things too.
But Chris. All of last week was coming out with these zingers that were making me hysterical. By virtuous wonder (and constant repetition), I've been able to remember a few. Let me set the scene first:
We have been back at Chris' parents house just outside of Birmingham for a few days now:
me: what do you want to do?
Chris: I don't know, want to play a game?
me: Ok. Do you have a deck of cards, we could play poker?
Chris: Yeah but we have nothing to play for.
me: We could play strip poker?
Chris: Or we could get my mum's box of buttons!!
a few days after that:
Chris: So I was thinking, there must be a website that has new trivial pursuit questions on them. I saw I look them up, print off a few American questions for you, British questions for me, get my parents in on it too and have a game on the ol' board?
and a few days after that:
me: I'm going a bit stir crazy
Chris: Well I could drop you off somewhere
me: But I don't know how to get back here
Chris: well just give me a ding dong and I'll come and pick you right up
Maybe it was delirium or maybe it was cabin fever. Or maybe it's because Chris is the driest, moody least enthusiastic person and to hear any sort of child like excitement from him really tickles me. Or maybe because if I had said any of the previous things in front of my family I would have been shunned and excommunicated and most likely would have preferred it that way because my sisters and brother never stop laughing. We're not mean, and I'm not either. It's endearing.
Thursday 4 December 2008
fabulous muscles*
*or mussels
I ran into my friend Suzy a few nights ago in Clerkenwell when we were both grabbing a drink and then decided to ditch our friends and go out to dinner. It wasn't so much a meal, rather a show and tell of public neuroses. Mine, for instance, and this one actually stems directly from my mother, is that I cannot have my back turned to a doorway or an open space. I have to sit strategically against a wall or with my back to another patron but never, ever, an open space. Chris is well aware of this and frankly, handled the situation quite cleverly. This however was news to Suzy and we had to change tables because whilst I wouldn't be sitting with my back towards the open, she can't sit beside columns or walls. She's an architect so virtually all buildings in London fall under 'badly designed' in her eyes. Essentially we were quite a pair that evening and when we finally got round to dinner, she was seated next to a large metal column, however that was alright because it didn't reverberate sound. Try the mussels at SOS in Clerkenwell, they're fantastic.
And I think I've over come my inner frustrations about writing and have actually utilised them to better myself and the situation. I had an insanely honest conversation with Chris were I spilled the beans on my preoccupation with his 'tour de force' altruistic yet objection criticism (purely hypothetical, he's barely seen anything yet). Writing is my thing. Reading and critiquing is his. And when you're exposing and reeling, and not in this tra la la way, it can hinder confidence. But we've mapped it all out now, both figuratively and literally so we're back on track. Mind akimbo.
I ran into my friend Suzy a few nights ago in Clerkenwell when we were both grabbing a drink and then decided to ditch our friends and go out to dinner. It wasn't so much a meal, rather a show and tell of public neuroses. Mine, for instance, and this one actually stems directly from my mother, is that I cannot have my back turned to a doorway or an open space. I have to sit strategically against a wall or with my back to another patron but never, ever, an open space. Chris is well aware of this and frankly, handled the situation quite cleverly. This however was news to Suzy and we had to change tables because whilst I wouldn't be sitting with my back towards the open, she can't sit beside columns or walls. She's an architect so virtually all buildings in London fall under 'badly designed' in her eyes. Essentially we were quite a pair that evening and when we finally got round to dinner, she was seated next to a large metal column, however that was alright because it didn't reverberate sound. Try the mussels at SOS in Clerkenwell, they're fantastic.
And I think I've over come my inner frustrations about writing and have actually utilised them to better myself and the situation. I had an insanely honest conversation with Chris were I spilled the beans on my preoccupation with his 'tour de force' altruistic yet objection criticism (purely hypothetical, he's barely seen anything yet). Writing is my thing. Reading and critiquing is his. And when you're exposing and reeling, and not in this tra la la way, it can hinder confidence. But we've mapped it all out now, both figuratively and literally so we're back on track. Mind akimbo.
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