Hello!
No time to chat and it’s NOT because I don’t have anything interesting to say! Just here to have a laff xx
👑 SWEETIE RATES 👑
A renaissance
I woke up one day and decided I finally understood the meaning of life. I am pleased to announce that the meaning of life is to amass as many skills as possible before death comes a-knocking. Now that I know this, I have no choice. I must become a Renaissance Woman (no, not a polymath... Have you ever heard a woman describe herself as a polymath? It’s for a good reason).
I blame Werner Herzog. Reading his memoir, Every Man for Himself and God Against All, has made me feel woefully inadequate in comparison. The man can seemingly do everything—play football, make films, write exquisite prose, climb mountains, speak seven languages, recite the twists and turns of ancient history as though he were there. My envy is dizzying. I couldn’t help but wonder if I could have acquired skills in the same way had I not spent days of my life on my phone, or playing The Sims, or sleeping for ten hours at a time or inspecting and scrutinising different body parts in the mirror over, and over, and over. But looking back with regret will not create a Renaissance Woman. So I must march forward with confidence and gusto. Step aside, Werner.
At the moment, I am focusing on picking up hobbies and skills I have let fall to the wayside. These are painting and baking. Am I very good at either of them at this very moment? Not really, I’m capital ‘f’ Fine at both of those things, but I am going to become amazing, because flagrant cockiness is what being a Renaissance Woman is all about. Next, I could be a birding nerd, or making yoghurt, or taking singing lessons, or re-learning pi to 50 places, or finally replying to texts, I just don’t know! And that’s what’s so exciting.
Some attempts at acquiring new skills over the past few months haven’t worked out. Take a one-off, humbling attempt at boxing where I almost threw up and then despairingly told my sparring opponent, a total stranger, “I don’t want to hurt you 🙁“, as though I could.
Another failure saw me not even following through on taking up a hobby, even one I already have experience in—roller skating. After thinking about buying a pair of roller skates for at least four months, I realised I was too insecure to pull the trigger. I was terrified that someone would take a video of me looking stupid on roller skates and make it into a viral TikTok where everyone chuckles and tee-hees at me and I become a meme and my life is ruined forever. I didn’t buy the roller skates. Perhaps the next skill I must master is reeling in my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder… Ah well.
DooDooMoi
DeuxMoi, while an instrument in the downfall of fun celebrity news and gossip, still sometimes delivers the goods. Take this tidbit about Denzel Washington buried halfway in an Instagram carousel.
This just in! Denzel Washington drinks Dr Pepper every day. You can emphasise specific words in the sentence in so many ways and it takes on a new meaning each time. Denzel Washington drinks Dr Pepper every day! Denzel Washington drinks Dr Pepper every day! Denzel Washington drinks Dr Pepper every day! Denzel Washington drinks Dr Pepper every day! It’s like a tongue twister, or an Ol’ Dirty Bastard lyric.
What I’m really trying to say is… Denzel Washington drinks Dr Pepper every day. You come to me, on the every day that Denzel Washington is drinking Dr Pepper, to ask me for surprising food/drinks celebs enjoy in the comfort of their own homes?
A joke I came up with
Here’s my new joke based on an off-the-cuff conversation, as most conversations are:
A guy just asked me if I’ve seen Longlegs… Honey, I see em’ in the mirror every day!
Now, you have to imagine I’m delivering this line like I’m Samantha Jones. You see, the joke is that I am misunderstanding a reference to the film, and am in fact instead talking about my actual legs, which aren’t that long, but that doesn’t matter for the purpose of my bit.
I actually haven’t seen Longlegs, but I did read the Wikipedia summary, and it sounds kind of stupid and too scary for me, if I’m being honest. But let’s not let the truth get in the way of a joke I found so funny I went and giggled about it in the work bathroom later that afternoon.
☕️ SWEETIE HATES ☕️
Lid problems
I’ve been around the traps and I know one thing to be true—there is a fundamental difference in the kind of iced coffee that comes in a takeaway cup depending on whether it has one of these two lids.
To make it easy for you to remember, I have written a rhyme:
Coffee with a flat lid
The caffeine will hit
Coffee with a dome lid
Your morning is mid
This is not based on scientific evidence, I just know it in my heart, my mind and my soul. In this instance, correlation DOES imply causation. If you get handed an iced coffee in a cup with a dome lid, understand you’re likely about to take a sip of something bitter, burnt or too milky. The flat lid is for iced coffee, and the dome lid is for smoothies and juices. The floor is not open for discourse.
Believe women
Some scientists are out here saying that a mummy may have died in agony. Why, you say?
Maybe cos she’s frozen forever looking like she’s in Scanners.
But yeah. I, too, could have told you that she died in agony. I know the face of someone who has just closed their finger in a door when I see it. Case closed.
Being wrong
I hate to admit it but I was wrong about the Olympics last week. When I called it boring I was speaking from a place of irrepressible melancholy (PMDD) which I have since moved past. The Olympics are cool and fun. I love seeing the big smiles when people win and I hate seeing the athletes get upset when they lose or make mistakes but you simply cannot have victory without loss.
I also lowkey hated this moment, because damn just let her have her moment without hogging the attention, but it’s not my life and what I believe isn’t always right. Just most of the time.
Bye 🙂🙂