How’ve you been?
I’m not too bad thank you – yes I have lost a little weight how nice of you to notice! (I haven’t but you can’t see me so I can pretend)
I know this goes against every blogging rule in the book but it is safe to say that not much has happened this week aside from the above. I won’t be offended if you switch off here, maybe make yourself a brew, have a gander at Netflix. I promise I won’t get mad.
Right, now we’ve got rid of those hangers on, we can have a proper chat.
Last night my mum asked if I was gay. I’m 97% sure she was joking but I learnt never to underestimate Sandi Fox after the infamous “nice from the back” comment.
For those of you that don’t know the story, here it is.
It was April 2011 (ish). I was getting ready for a night out. I had a new dress and was trying out something different with my eye make-up. I normally don’t spend that long getting ready (as is probably obvious from my Facebook pictures) but on this occasion I really tried to make an effort. There was some kind of smoky eye going on, maybe even a defined eyeliner…it was very Vogue.
Anyway, after a long long long time I bounded down the stairs and burst into the lounge with a triumphant “Ta-da!”.
Mum said I looked nice but it wasn’t exactly the “Oh my days, who is this gorgeous being and what have you done with my daughter?” response that I had been after.
Mood suitably dampened I went to go back upstairs only for Mother Dearest to say
“Ooh Sophie, you look lovely from the back!”
Thanks Mum – that was what I had spent the last two hours perfecting – the back of my head!
Now I don’t want you to get a bad impression of dear Sandi. She is without a doubt the best mother on the planet. Sandi is hilarious and I guarantee you will never meet a kinder more loving person in all your life. Sandi is an amazing dancer, Gordon Ramsey himself couldn’t cook a better lasagne, and she does it all without swearing.
If you ever wonder what people said before the word shit was invented, come to my house. It’s all “sugar butties!”, “oh blast!”, “blood and sand!” and, my personal fave, “gee whizz!“ It’s like being in an episode of The Brady Bunch but with more wine.
So when we were sat in a bar last night drinking wine, discussing the epic failure that is my love life, and she asked me if I was gay, even though she chuckled, I wasn’t quite sure if she was being serious or not.
Helpfully, when I told this to my friends they all replied with “Well…what did you say?”
I said No, in case anyone was wondering.
As my friend Chess just pointed out – “don’t take this the wrong way but even if you were gay, women probably wouldn’t want to go out with you either.”
Kick me when I’m down why don’t you!!
I’m all for people being gay, bisexual, whatever you fancy. If it works for you then do it. As far as I am concerned your sexual orientation is none of my business. It just so happens that I am none of the above. Sorry mum.
If you have managed to do the impossible and actually find another human being that you wouldn’t mind sharing your life with then I applaud you. Lord knows it’s slim pickings out there and I don’t see how it is anybody else’s place to tell you who (or what) you are allowed to love.
If you don’t agree, be warned, for Benedict Cumberbatch has this week sworn a fight to the death with any anti-gay extremists that may cross his path.
This guy is Sherlock Holmes for crying out loud! He could fight you and tell you who killed Sir Charles Baskerville, without breaking a sweat. He’d also have enough time at the end of the day to share a nice pot of tea and a syringe full of heroin.
– in case you didn’t know Sherlock was somewhat of a drug addict, but we can forgive him for that because of all the crime-solving. Plus Benedict is lovely to look at, which helps.
When thinking of my favourite sleuths (as I’m sure you do too) I was embarrassed to say I totally forgot about Sherlock. To remedy this and on account of the fact I have a new Kindle for my birthday (thanks mum) I have started reading the complete collection.
Having read the first three books I have convinced myself I should be a detective and that I would have enjoyed living in Victorian England. Sure it would have been nicer without the oppression, poverty and typhoid, obviously, but I still think it would have been lovely.
Saying that, knowing myself as I do, instead of being a refined daughter of an aristocrat, attending balls and embroidering cushions, I’d be Nancy from Oliver Twist, swigging from a tankard and dancing on the tables.
I really should try and behave in a more ladylike manner. I’m 29 years old. I need to grow up. Plus my mum’s right, I’ll never find a husband dancing on a table. Look what happened to poor old Nancy.
From this day forth, I promise to start acting like an adult. I will not make a public fool of myself and I will be polite, well mannered and every other drink will be non-alcholic.
Two hours later…
We are going on a work’s bowling night tonight. The email has gone round and turns out there will be karaoke!
*starts doing vocal warm-ups and neck exercises*
This is going to be epic.
Oh and mum – I love you so much but there’s something you need to know:
I’m great, I’m straight, get used to it!