Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Multiplied by 29 and a bit. That’s how old I am even though I feel forty thanks to being widowed. I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of birthday and holiday prep activities which has meant there’s been no time to consolidate my kerazy bipolar lesbian thoughts – neither in my head, nor on paper.
Here’s the bulleted summary of highlights:
- London heatwave. Twitter went typically British and just banged on about the weather the whole time. Broke rules and wore shorts (with heels) to office. I maintain they were suitable because I’d never wear them on the beach due to the embellishment, and the fact they’re in the tailoring section of Zara. Apparently not #workbodyready.
- Spilled 300g of Vietnamese coconut oil everywhere in my bedroom due to heatwave, causing a normally solid product to melt into a gooey, but thankfully opaque, mess. This resulted in mega shiny legs that day on aforementioned indecent shorts day.
- Came out to new boss as bipolar. Girl who I love working with and who basically ran the project I last worked on and managed has resigned. Oh. Work is about to go mental, and possibly me too.
- Birthday dinner with friends. Turns out I have friends who bring presents! That’s quite nice to know, isn’t it? After a whole load of acquaintances buggered off after wife died, I felt so alone but I’ve surrounded myself with positive people and it culminated in a lovely al fresco dinner in the back garden at Aurora restaurant on Lexington Street in Soho. Highly recommended (both having friends and restaurant).
- Did I mention the heatwave?
- Have set up Boy Widower with a friend. Results pending. She knows the background.
- Here is my new stripper outfit! Las Vegas birthday box gift from Mr Man Bun – box of treats from my gay bestie in preparation for our upcoming hedonistic trip to the desert. He doesn’t want me to be ‘eclipsed’ by him and his half kilo of hair extensions so the box included fuck-me-now shoes and a dress which my boobs cannot possibly stay in due to lack of jiggling support. Seriously. Aces.
- Went on a date with Tinder Girl #5. She’d made an effort and looked all pretty in a lace green dress and even brought me a little birthday gift in the form of the poshest artisan chocolates I’ve ever seen. They came in what looked like a little pot of moisturiser. Love attention to detail. She might be a keeper! Southbank stroll and dinner. Not what I was expecting, but better.
- Saw Cabariot at the London Wonderfround on said date. Hilarity from Frisky and Mannish (see show details here) who performed at my wedding, but also near hysterical breakdown from me due to a comedy cover of my wife’s favourite song which we played at her funeral. I’d not heard it since. Held it together despite the significance, half bottle of wine and two pints of beer. Phew. Only a couple of tears trickled in the dark and I don’t think Tinder Girl #5 noticed. A day late but massive fuck off birthday sign from wife perhaps?
- Alcoholism still present. Not the birthday kind.
- Kissed Tinder Girl #5 on the moving walkway at Waterloo underground station. We stood the whole way which, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a LONG way. She smells nice and her hair feels all soft. I’m such a lesbian.
- Did prosecco packing for a trip abroad to see family in Malaysia. Faced humility of buying eight giant packs of incontinence pads from Boots for my 83 year old grandmother, only to discover she already has industrial sized supplies here already. I’m such a good granddaughter.
- Mosquito bites which are now mosquito welts happened.
- First foray into the world of Botox and laser hair removal at Glamorous Auntie’s clinic. Don’t listen to the liars – it fucking hurts.
- Do listen to them – it fucking works. I look five years younger. My forehead is no longer widow stricken, hurrah. Well done Glamorous Auntie for treating me.
- Initially embarrassing but then fun improv singing session with a Malaysian music artist and producer who I’ve never heard of but is apparently very famous. Video instagrammed by him to 5000 followers. Video description asking people to follow me has wrong insta handle. Quest for fame in Malaysia fail by Eerily Cheerily.
- Tinder dabbling in Malaysia is proving fruitful in terms of numbers of matches. I did it just out of curiosity but clearly these girls love the mixed race widowness, despite the fact that ladies loving the vagina over here is illegal. Shame.
- Jet-lag, ergo blog post.
So now that I’ve recanted, tell me your news.