TEST CRICKET FOR WOMEN

My husband had the temerity to ask me why I watched E-Entertainment when I wanted to relax.
" Why not?" I snapped, spoiling for a fight.
" It's just so unlike you," he replied.
The phrase " unlike you" is never meant in a nice way when used between married couples. It's just a polite way of being rude. " That coat is very unlike you," basically means " What a hideous item of clothing you've put on" just as " This dinner is very unlike something you would normally cook," is a euphemism for " Jesus Christ - you really expect me to eat this?"
So being told it was very "unlike me" to watch E-entertainment was a low blow to my self-esteem and one I felt duty bound to defend.
"Why exactly is it unlike me?"I asked.
" Because it's vaguely mindless," my husband replied. " Full of unintelligible Americans I've never heard of. Those loud women you watch going about their numbingly boring lives. The Karchians."
" Kardashians,"I mumbled.
" And programmes on fat people getting thin. And bossy nannies."
" I like making my mind go blank sometimes. I like not having to concentrate. I enjoy being lulled into a state of narcolepsy."
" More than reading? I thought you loved reading."
" I do, but sometimes I don't."
By now this discussion was really getting me riled.
"It's sport for women who don't like watching sport," I retorted haughtily. "You like watching cars zoom round and round racetracks for hours and cricket games and I don't."

" I get it," said my husband, backing down immediately. "Test cricket for women."    

THE GREY MATTER

 I don't think I have many grey hairs. And the few that I do have are lovingly, cunningly, expensively, time-consumingly disguised by Sibi at my hairdressers. Yet every time I wear a black or navy sweater they seem to come forth and multiply. My shoulders are always the proud owners of at least five pure white strands of hair that seems to have fallen off someone else's head. It's the weirdest thing. It's as though mysterious forces have carefully plucked these neon white strangers off my head and deposited them like badges of honour on my shoulders. Anyone else noticed this? Is this where grey hairs are laid to rest? Black and blue are becoming the new, unwanted grey....

FINAL RESOLUTIONS

Just to be both perverse and practical, I'm doing my New Year Resolutions upside down. I'm taking stock of all the things I DON'T want to do in 2012- as opposed to being sanctimonious and listing targets I want to achieve. So this year I am:
1. Never going to speak to electronic voices on the end of the telephone; I'm only going to converse with real people. This will stop me getting frustrated and furious.
2. I'm not going to get excited, pretend to be excited or get involved with the Olympics. I hate them.
3. I'm going to be totally honest about the fact I love watching mindless TV shows called things like "Nanny 911" or " The 75 Stone Woman". They switch my mind off and are a strange form of relaxation.
4. I'm going to continue drinking through January and enjoy it. I don't drink nearly enough to be voluntarily dry for a month.
5. I'm going to accept the fact I need very little sleep and just meet other insomniacs for breakfast.
6. I'm going to eat more chocolate as it makes me happy.
7. I'm going to try to do things that enhance my life ( no matter how big or small) and stop bothering with the small.

I'm also not going to feel guilty about any of the above. Onwards and upwards 2012. Bring it on.

E-eeeeeeek!

Mimi rant. The total weird pointlessness of e-Xmas cards. What is that all about??? They all go into my Spam and then eventually one opens them....and? Do they fill one with joy? No. Do they make one feel warm and fuzzy inside? No. Are they annoying in their thoughtlessness? Yes. Sod green-ness and eco-friendly wishes, I actually think they are an impertanance.

SAVE THE DATE - AFTER CHRISTMAS

There are some assumptions that ought to be put on the back-burner. Preferably to burn. I have an allergic reaction to being asked to "save the date" at this time of year. Firstly - who are these uber-organised busy bodies that are already forward-planning dinner parties in March 2012 when most mortals are at the epicentre of the social storm known as Christmas? I can't be alone in focusing on the next ten days and treating them as a military operation, can 1? Also I don't own a diary ( yet). I'm rather hoping Santa is going to bring me one. An blank one, devoid of any commitments  whatsoever. The joy of a new diary to me is its emptiness. The promise of expectation and hope over experience. Please "save the date" until after Christmas, then any invitation will be gratefully received. Any that are issued right now I'm treating as a threat to my sanity.  

THE VULGARITY OF CHRISTMAS

Is there anything worse than good taste at Christmas? Those manicured, perfectly groomed, colour-co-ordinated trees that never seem to do anything as common as shed their needles are the anthesis of all that is   great about this time of year. They are the anti-Christ of decorations. Christmas trees by definition should be slightly gaudy. They should twinkle and be a little lop-sided and laden down unevenly with ornaments collected over time, never bought in a smash-and-grab frenzy. Ideally they should never have a theme either. I hate "themed" trees. Never trust anyone who says " this year I'm decorating my tree only in red". Not only do these people need to get a life, they need to find their inner child, their soul and they need to let go of all pretencions. Tis the season to be jolly. Don't underplay the decorations; unleash the over-the-top-genie.