Stuck for words

I know, I know, I know, I have turned into a useless blogger, there are hardly any photos anymore, the posts are scarce and not particularly humorous and I have no imagination.

I don’t know what to say, I just can’t think of anything to write! And So much stuff has happened, I continue with my gym going (although why I am bothering when the total weight loss amounts to 2lbs – 2 fucking pounds – is beyond me), I went on holiday, work is insanely busy, Liz and I have a new business plan which will make us the next Bill Gates, things are moving forward with the house again. Really, I have motivation, content, I have funny anecdotes about my mother….

I just don’t have any words.

Must find words….

Anecdote about my mother.
My mother rang me yesterday morning at 9.15, while I was in bed with a horrible hangover, and then she cried for two hours about how awful my Dad is, and how she's lonely and has no one to talk to and I was like, holding the phone away from my ear to throw up and when I put it back to my ear she was still just hickupping and "your..hic... Dad... hic…just...hic...doesn't...hic...understand...hic...me...", and I'm like, no mum, he doesn't, your life is very, very difficult, I'm sorry about that, hang on a second... HURL.

She’s fine now, there will be no separation, my father has reached a plateau of understanding he hasn’t had before during the 30 years they have been married. Glenn is blaming schizophrenia for their 12 hour marriage crisis.

A thing that annoyed me.
Yes, I am aware there is a photo of me in a bikini on flickr. No, I am not happy about it. I am distinctly unhappy abut it. This is not a ploy to get people to post something about how I look fine, it’s not about that, it’s about me choosing to wear a bikini on holiday with friends and not choosing to have any photo’s taken of such a thing and then finding one on the internet. Clue – I am not smiling at the camera in the photo, I am reading a book. I am very happy for people who can feel confident when wearing two triangles and a pair of waterproof pants but I am not one of them.

Why work is insanely busy.
Apparently, after a pretty awful 2005, people like us again! The corporate giant crushes the independent thinker! You will pay us! You will like it! You will give us work!

Arse.

Hey, it’s ok, two punnets of frozen raspberries later and soon, I’ll be on the cover of Time magazine, it’s ok that you don’t understand that, give it time…

None of this bodes well for a novel though, really, how can I become the next Nadine Gordimer if I can’t find enough words for a regular diary entry...?

Books I read on holiday that were good.

'Running with Scissors' by Augusten Burroughs
'On Beauty' by Zadie Smith

A book I read on holiday that was amazing.

'Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close' by Jonathan Safran Foer

A book I read on holiday that I wish I hadn't read because it was awful and I will never get that time back.

'A long way down' by Nick Hornby