First Blog/ New Year's Rant

I thought I would begin a blog for a new year in order to conceal the fact that I have absolutely no intention of making any new years resolutions, I had already decided that on January the 1st 2010. I have no plans to lose weight, even though my jeans squeeze my arse cheeks so tightly together you could slip a sausage between and you've got yourself a hot dog. I certainly am not thinking about giving up drinking either, that would be both dangerous and unwise to all parties involved; however I may reconsider my 'golden line', the limit, which is 1.5 bottles of wine (before going to the pub), I think this is ok. It is not.

I've never liked starting a new year, like I don't like starting anew page in a notepad, it seems like a waste. Is my life a waste of everyone's time? I probably shouldn't think like this yet, I've got to wait another year again before I can be miserable and flail about in my own self pity. The start of the new year means you have to do shit, this is why I find the whole affair particularly depressing. I have never understood why people get excited about have to actually do things, either for yourself or other people You have to be a better person; be nice to people when you don't really want to. When that clock hit 12 I felt a lead weight hit the bottom of my stomach, I really can't be arsed with it all- all the nice things, the work, the being a better lover, a better friend. Usually, I feel fine again by March, three months is plenty for any self-obsessed, over-weight, alcoholic cow to get settled back into her meaningless life.

Until last night I had refused to leave my house for a night out since new years eve. I thought I would break this seven day stint, rather unwisely, by going to see my friends' younger brother's band at our local working men's club. Thankfully the band was the saving grace of the evening, like the old saying the rose between two thorns. This musical rose however, was one that had been chewed, swallowed and shat out whole by a pitbull. The beautiful rose floating in a massive, steaming pile of fucking dog shit. It felt like an episode from Peter Kay's Phoenix Night's. It was in fact, such a terrible place, that my own mother knocked back her large glass of wine in the time that it had taken me to go for a wee, and left leaving me a text message "I am going. This is toss". It was hosted by the most annoying, slimy cretin of a bloke that I have ever witnessed in my life. His crotch grabbing and untoward sexual gyrating had the 12 year old girls (have you ever seen a 12yr old girl down a pint of Guiness?...I have). Apparently the host had been working of those red jacket/rent boy type people at Butlin's for the last three years, you'd never have guessed. Good lord.