theresaurus

December 31, 2017

December 31

Filed under: Uncategorized — theresaurus @ 11:38 pm

The shops were busy today and Beethoven’s 9th symphony followed me around as I did my last minute New Year’s holiday shopping. On the way home saw a persimmon tree crowded with little birds picking at the last scraps of fruit and a homeless man bundled up against the cold pulling a small suitcase.

Sam came home with delicious sashimi, octopus and crab but no beef for sukiyaki this year. He insisted on watching a countdown of America’s top popular music of the year but soon said what I was thinking, that the music all sounded the same and nobody plays instruments, it’s all done in the studio. I had to admit that I shouldn’t complain about the music Sam listens to all the time, at least it’s actually real music. I was also disgusted by the music videos. The men wore clothes and were skinny or fat and unattractive and the women were practically naked, all boobs and butts and looked the same. Then had on the NHK red and white song contest and it was clear to me that the men’s team would win. The women wore the same old boring girly costumes. Sexy or cute, nothing changes. Depressing.

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Helen Fielding, “Bridget Jone’s Diary”:

Sunday 1 January
Food consumed today:

2 pkts Emmenthal cheese slices
14 cold new potatoes
2 Bloody Marys (count as food as contain Worcester sauce and tomatoes)
1/3 Ciabatta loaf with Brie
coriander leaves – 1/2 packet
12 Milk Tray (best to get rid of all Christmas confectionery in one go and make fresh start tomorrow).
13 cocktail sticks securing cheese and pineapple
Portion Una Alconbury’s turkey curry, peas and bananas
Portion Una Alconbury’s Raspberry Surprise made with Bourbon biscuits, tinned raspberries, eight gallons of whipped cream, decorated with glace cherries and angelica.

Ugh. The last thing on earth I feel physically, emotionally or mentally equipped to do is drive to Una and Geoffrey Alconbury’s New Year’s Day Turkey Curry Buffet … . ‘Come along and meet Mark,’ Una Alconbury sing-songed before I’d even had some time to get a drink down me. … The worst of it was that Una Alconbury and Mum wouldn’t leave it at that. They kept making me walk round with trays of gherkins and and glasses of cream sherry in a desperate bid to throw me into Mark Darcy’s path yet again. In the end they were so crazed with frustration that the second I got within four feet of him with the gherkins Una threw herself across the room … and said, ‘Mark, you must take Bridget’s telephone number … . I couldn’t stop myself turning bright red. … ‘Can’t I tempt you with a gherkin?’ I said, to show I had had a genuine reason for coming over, which was quite definitely gherkin-based rather than phone-number based. ‘Thank you, no,’ he said, looking at me with some alarm. ‘Sure?’  Stuffed olive?’ I pressed on. ‘No, really.’ ‘Silverskin onion?’ I encouraged. ‘Beetroot cube?’ ‘Thank you,’ he said desperately, taking an olive. ‘Hope you enjoy it,’ I said triumphantly.”

2 a.m. Oh, why am I so unattractive? Why? Even a man who wears bumblebee socks thinks I am horrible. Hate the New Year. Hate everyone. … Anyway, have got giant tray-sized bar of Cadbury’s Diary Milk left from Christmas on dressing table, also amusing joke gin and tonic miniature.

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