Darlings! Dearest readers. Hewo.

I hope the week has been kind to you if it hasn’t - tell it to suck a dick. Sorry mum.

I’ve had some resistance to writing this week, and I’m not sure why. It’s not like I’ve had anything monumental happen, well, kinda, but I’ll get to that. I’m still waiting for my security Supervisor to call me back, wahaaa. It’s only been over a week since she said she’ll ‘brainstorm’ and call me back. As the Brits say, my general mood has been I can’t be arsed. Oh well, I’m not going to spiral into a philosophical spin, that’s life, isn’t it? One minute you’re off your tits, things couldn’t be better, you’re saying hello to the postman, you’re singing in the bathroom mirror, you’re like Mary Poppins on speed. The next? You’re lying in bed in your own filth, wondering what the point of it all is, you think everyone hates you, and your life is one big ‘Dumpster Fire’ - I’ll stop here and highlight how annoying I find this phrase, it gives me the severe ICK. WHY? I tell Az, and he looks at me as if to say, ‘Spoke to your therapist lately?’ I realise it’s been a few weeks, and it might do me good to check in.

ANYWAY gang. Thanks for bearing with. And for being here. I bloody love you.

This week I have been SEVERELY bloated, like 4-5 months pregnant looking. So uncomfortable, I’m waddling around saying to Az ‘Does it look bad? Clearly it does because my walk indicates I’ve had an indulgent night (in the early, heady days of courtship) and I’m scuttling like a crab. I’ve had a few other symptoms, so if all continues, I’ll be in that doctor’s office quicker than you can say ‘It’s HOW MUCH for an appointment? ’ ($120 if you must know, just to speak to someone) All hail the National Health Service back in the UK. It might be hanging on by a thread, but gee, I miss it.

We go to see a band with our excitable new friends. The bands featured are excellent. All look like a cross between Joy Division and Spandau Ballet - wide legged high waisted trousers, big greasy hair, some of them genuinely looked like they needed a going over with some industrial bleach. I was waiving and hollering like a needy teenage dirtbag. The drummer got me - what is it about Drummers? The energy and timing on him was outrageous, as he came through the crowd afterwards I yelled in his poor ears ‘You are fantastic, you’re so talented!’ whilst likely spitting on him - he was so young and so earnest, thanking me with big wide eyes - like I’d told him he’d got the biggest penis in a line up. That’s the second time I’ve used a man’s appendage in this blog - I’m clearly on a roll!

At the gig, I met friends of friends. One is from NYC and used to have a record label (of course he did; he’s from NYC, DAAAAAH). He is starting up something similar in Charlotte. We chatted while waiting outside for our respective Ubers. I eagerly told him I was busting to do something creative, and if he needed a hand, I was your girl! I declared with the urgency of a groupie. He asked if I was any good at interviewing people.

Me.

Asking people questions.

Do Bears shit in the woods?

Am I obsessed with the phrase ‘Suck a dick’?

Do I like sniffing necks?

You get the idea.

I don’t let him finish the sentence before I’m spitting (again) in this poor lamb’s face, doing my best Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally YES, YES, OMG YES!

I’ve not got his number yet but this gig is mine and I’m gonna go Graham Norton on his ass. I’ll show em’ how it’s done without (hopefully) not scaring them.

The night draws to a close, obviously the kids get a second wind and exclaim, ‘Let’s go to another bar! ’ I want that like a hole in the head. It’s 1130pm and I’ve had my fill. I stayed out! I can do it, but now Cinders here is going to turn to dust if I’m not in bed pronto.

I’m moving forward with my coaching business and have started another Substack for this. Yes, I know, the world doesn’t need another coach, but it’s me! And I’m ready, finally ready to (as the kids say) to take up space. I don’t give a shite anymore, as far as I’m aware we are here once and I want to do work that can impact others. I would die of gratitude and hide under my table if you followed me. But no stress either way, you’re still wonderful.

Tomorrow, I’m off to Tampa, Florida, for a week with my husband. He’s got a leadership meeting and I’m tagging along as a true HASHTAG EXPATWIFE. These are the perks of being unemployed and in America, I’ve never been to Florida before, and whilst it wouldn’t be the first city on my list, it’s just exciting to be somewhere else! I can write to you between going to the gym, lying by the pool (in the shade with factor 50 on) and in between naps. MY LIFE IS A TERRIBLE SLOG. I’ll keep you posted.

Lastly, what is it with people (men) driving cars with exhausts that make your eardrums vibrate? There you are, minding your own business, trying to get to sleep and some dickhead comes haring along the road shaking the very foundation of your apartment? I just wish they’d get a penis enlargement instead and leave us all in peace.

That’s all from me, folks! Happy Easter Sunday. I hope you’re up to your ears in treats and chocolates and doing something lovely. That’s what Jesus would want for you.

All my love

PS I’ve bleached my eyebrows. I look like Boris Becker.