What's The Beef...?

Dear Steak,

I didn't think you could have this power over me but I know you've seen me looking. It's strange, but for nigh on 14 years I have not eaten you at all. I haven't even wanted you. Not for me the teasings of your lesser cousins, bacon and sausages, there were no moments of weakness as everyone gathered at Christmas and doled out the turkey. You, you are the only one who can turn my head, and by turn, I mean I make that chick from the exorcist look like a total try hard wannabe head turner warming up for yoga. I was happy with my lot and I munched away happily on non meaty treats and only five years ago introduced my sea dwelling friends back onto my plate. But meat? No thank you. But Steak, you aren't even meat are you? It's like comparing a boy to a man? A peasant to a Princess? A - oh Jesus I could go on all day....

Basically, lately, lately I find myself staring at you steak. In a lascivious, wrap my lips around you and share you with no one kind of way. When you appear on the plate of a friend, I quash the evil impulse to knock out my dinner companion with a spade and when they come round tell them a careless waiter dropped a tray on their head. Yes, you may have thought it was me, but trust me, your concussed, severely, and possibly anaemic, here, lets order you another steak.... I think about when they excuse themselves for the bathroom about whether I could, a), finish their steak in that time and b), make it seem plausible that a giant wolf ran into the restaurant and ate their supper as they powdered their nose. I was of course rendered helpless as the rest of the pack had me surrounded. Funnily enough my aubergine parmigiana didn't seem to interest them, you know how fussy these wolves are, tricky little bastards too, sure remember the one who pretended to be the little girls granny? Lets count ourselves lucky...

I wonder where this urge has come from, why at this time has my inner cave woman risen from her slumber? I don't think I'm ready to consume you just yet, but you are on my mind, I just thought you should know...

Yours sincerely,

Ship Ahoy...

Dear Anchor,

The thing I love about you dear anchor, is that you never fully settle, you always allow a little room to manoeuvre, a chance to shift left or right, you will never stop me bobbing up and down even if you do give me a centre.

I feel we have so much in common dear anchor. Sometimes I feel like I am attached to everyone else's rope. I am their anchor, I am reliable and sensible since the womb. I do what needs to be done when needed, ever and always the pragmatic, reliable and strong. Strength that is terrifying, terrifying you said, I think you meant it as a compliment, it still stung.

Everything needs to be tended, everything without proper care and attention eventually becomes a little worn, battered by the elements and in need of pulling aboard. A little tenderness, a little love, a little care, neglect will take it's time to curse you but oh the damage it will do, the scar it will leave.

And so maybe, it's our turn to come out of the water, it's our chance to take a rest and let the winds take control and see where they lead us...

Yours sincerely,

Yo Yo Yoghurt...

Dear Yoghurt,

Thank you, thank you so much for exploding all over me on the final leg of a 22 hour journey from wait for it, Ireland to England, yes really.

The way you exploded all over my chest and face made me look like an adult entertainment star and has got me thinking about a career change. Please don't think it went unnoticed that this happened in front of a very handsome man.

Thus it is with a heavy heart I am giving up dairy...

Yours sincerely,

Leave A Message After The Beep...

Dear Groupie,

Trust me, he will not be calling you tomorrow...

Yours sincerely,

What A Girl Wants...

Dear Boys,

I like gentleman, but not too gentlemanly. I don't ever want you to infringe on my independence but sometimes I just want you to do stuff for me. I'd like it if we had similar taste in music but I'd also like it if you were into a whole other genre you could teach me about. I want you to like obscure Polish films but stand in the queue waiting for the new Will Smith. If you could be somewhat stylish but not so stylish you look dandy.

I'd like you to take care of your appearance but not spend so long in the bathroom I lose the will to live. I like hygienic but it helps if you look scruffy. If you can talk about how you're feeling without wanting to talk it over to within an inch of your life, that's a winner. If you are funny but can be serious when it counts, that's award worthy. If when you walk into the room my stomach flips and my heart skips, tis no bad thing. If you could have lovely shoulders and are taller than me, then there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I'd like you to love food as much as I do and not roll your eyes when now and again cupcakes are suggested for breakfast. If you could enjoy a few drinks and a good time but still know to never be the last to leave a party, this would be greatly appreciated. I don't ever want you to tell me what to do but sometimes, sometimes, if you could surprise me with what we are doing that would be amazing.

If you could stand up for me when people say I'm too fussy, I'm yours...

Yours sincerely,

Baby Got Back...

Dear Cellulite,

I'm calling a truce. I'm even gonna try make friends with you. You see it just occurred to me that hating on you is in effect, hating on myself. This epiphany smacked me upside the head as I watched 8 dancers with a UK size 6 frame rehearse. The cameraman selflessly did a close up on their legs and bottoms, which was the projected onto 25 foot screens, they were wearing hot pants, they all had cellulite. I am a normal girl and sometimes I curse you and I do not even have much of you, but if people who dance for eight hours a day, eat healthily and are so toned you could bounce a 50p of their bottoms are privy to your company I am just gonna surrender to the simple fact that you are a part of life, as much as breathing, eating and sleeping etc...

And so farewell, lotions and overpriced potions, adieu power walking and massage, cheerio cursing my own body every time the light is less then flattering and hello liberation, thy name is normal...

Yours sincerely,

Weapon Of Choice...

Dear Man Who Mugged My Friends At Knifepoint,

I hope it was worth it. I hope whatever joy you got from holding a knife to two of the most lovely people in all the world lasts. I hope whatever you bought with what you stole from them brings you the kind of happiness money can't. I hope I lose the feeling of wishing the drugs you undoubtedly purchased put an end to you. I hope my friend stops crying. I hope I stop feeling guilty about the fact they walked me home and if they had taken a different route it wouldn't have happened. I hope you feel a sense of pride in making all of us uneasy in the streets we felt safe in.

But most of all I hope that someday you find the kind of friends that I have, because that, that is just what might save you from your miserable life...

Yours sincerely,

In First Place...

Dear Blog Friends,

Did I mention you're the best? No? Well you are, you really are...

Yours sincerely,

You Keep On Pushing My Love Over The Borderline...

Dear Madonna,

I tried, really I did. I resisted the urge to blast you. I resisted the urge to hark back to the glory days of shower caps, biker jackets, box steps and Borderline. I bit my tongue when for the fourth album in a row you thrust your crotch in my direction whilst singing the virtues of living a good spiritual life. When I say kabballah, you say 36 bucks for a bottle of water. You are scathing to say the very least about the very magazines you dominate the cover of. You do not allow your children to watch television, but apparently it's perfectly acceptable for you to appear on it. Believe me, I get it, you're flexible, you like yoga and you could crack walnuts with your thighs.

I thought, in my right on fashion, it really does look like you're trying to buy a baby and you're jeopardising the very laws that keep those children safe, even though when I shut down my left wing heart it seemed to me an ill child, in a poor country, living in an orphanage really would be better off with you. I even found it funny, ironic even, when your new boyfriend had the name Jesus. The whole thing might scream fuck you Guy Ritchie, check out my mid life crisis, where are the keys to my Porsche and have you seen my penis? But come on, Madonna and Jesus? You couldn't make that stuff up, truly inspired.

Then you had to go and wear that. Not only did you wear it, and you have worn many dreadful outfits, but you wore it to Anna's party. The high priestess of the Wintour, her party, the big one, the one that shines bright, ah monsieur my sunglasses tout suite! Hooker boots and the kind of headpiece that is synonymous with hen parties and Bacardi Breezers up and down the country. And so, I am done with you, back catalogue or not, we are done...

Yours sincerely,

Please Hold...

Dear Blog,

I miss you. Normal service will resume shortly...

Yours sincerely,

Zzzzzzzzzzzz.....

Dear Bed,

Tonight's the night. After almost eight weeks we get to sleep together again. I get to feel your warm covers wrapped around me and sink my head into your pillows.

I have slept with many beds in the past 8 weeks, some good, some bad, but none could hold a candle to you. They meant nothing to me, I was thinking of you the whole time. I hope you've missed me as much as I've missed you and I hope you can forgive me. I only slept in those other beds because they were there, it was you who I yearned for all along. Believe me when I say I can't wait to jump on top of you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go shave my legs....

Yours sincerely,

Super Size Me...

Dear Dwarf,

So it seems you had more in common with charming then I first thought...

Yours sincerely,

Ooops...

Dear Self,

Learn to be a girl, just learn to be a fucking girl...

Yours sincerely,

Catherine Wheels...

Dear Spark,

Well, well, well, aren't you everywhere and in all things of late? You're a funny little thing aren't you? You spend months out of my life, not a glimmer, not a flash, and lately it's all I can do to stop myself calling 999 and getting the fire brigade out.

You keep popping up most unexpectedly, you care not for other people's perceptions of right and wrong, you care not for what is deemed appropriate and inappropriate, that's where the unfailing internal compass, that is known round these parts as morals, steps in. He has always had more power over me then you, but my goodness you're putting up quite the fight of late. I mean where black and white are concerned, morals has you over a barrel, but where I thought I was so sure of my opinions in other matters, namely the grey areas, that is where you are holding your ground. You're challenging it all, because it shouldn't work and on paper it doesn't work, but he's fun isn't he? He even blows the more handsome one out of the water, doesn't he? He is my dwarf to the Prince Charming and suddenly I am being challenged on the very thing I condemned Snow White for.

Spark you have a sense of humour. You are a mischievous little imp. You are an addiction I will never beat, because you hit fast and hard and leave me waiting for the next hit. Eyes flashing, grinning constantly, rounding bends with hope in my heart and mascara always on my lashes. You and your good buddy confidence are doing quite the job on me, a lethal team, lethal, I don't stand a chance and I like it...

Yours sincerely,