Weekend
On Saturday we had an absinthe party, to which only Greg and I were invited. We had Duplais Verte first, which is a Swiss absinthe and really nice, not as bitter as I'd expected and quite floral. Then we moved on to Diable Noir, which is an 85% Spanish absinthe, cold mixed. And it's obviously the kind of crap that people will buy to do shots of and expect to hallucinate. Foul. All I could taste was alcohol, and I could get a million cheaper drinks from Costcutter with the same result. We may have another absinthe party next weekend, because we still have some Lemercier 72 Amer (French, distilled) and some Abtshof (German, likely cold mixed). I will be sure to share my vital opinions with you, should I remember them.
After absinthe, Greg recorded some vocals for his new album (which is a concept album about the bee crisis we're currently facing) and I don't remember what I did.
On Sunday, Greg took me for a driving lesson and I'm not sure, but I think I might be traumatised. I don't know why I'm so scared of driving. Obviously the consequences are severe should I make a mistake, but everyone chooses that risk and only a percentage of them end up dead or in prison. But I have to ask, if the purpose of driving is to get from A to B, is it really so worthwhile when you consider how likely it is that you'll never make it? I see cars on fire so often and I'm pretty sure they don't tell you about that when you're learning to drive. I don't even know where the fire extinguisher is kept in most cars. Emergency exits? Lifejackets?
Well anyway, Greg an I do a lot of car travel (we must be living on borrowed time) and I'm used to being the passenger. Greg had almost managed to convince me that being in control of the car would be much less scary than being in the passenger seat; every journey he takes me on is like the World's Most Dangerous Car Chases, albeit at a maximum speed of 55 and without the chase element. Well, I found out for myself that actually driving a car can only be described as petrifying (or possibly pulverising, having given it some thought).
Greg sat there with me and told me what to do, which I understood, but I don't see why it has to be so complicated. So far I'm not seeing the advantage over walking, which doesn't require any gears or... that thing in the middle of the car that stops it from rolling away (if you're lucky). He told me to move the car forwards using this strange method, and it worked but I didn't like it and wanted to stop. Greg hadn't told me how to stop, so I pressed the middle pedal and we did stop, but who knew you could get whiplash from travelling at 5mph? Anyway, then he told me the secret of stopping the car, but it didn't really make much difference. I think part of the problem is that my entire left foot and most of my right foot are numb, due to a combination of hard skin, a lifetime of dubious footwear and a circulatory system that could best be compared to custard in a sock. How do I know how hard to press on the pedals? Anyway, I was crying and shaking but then Greg told me that it's okay, he was the same at first as well. We came home and decided to try again another day. I'm determined to persevere, because Greg told me that if I pass my test, I can have any car of my choice, no matter what the cost, and I can get it all souped-up with flames and a huge rear spoiler and ornamental wings*.
*N.B. not his actual words.
When we had both partially recovered from the realisation that teaching a partner to drive often ends in divorce, we decided to do some baking. Now, I'll tell you something, I fucking hate baking. I can't do it, I don't want to do it, and sometimes it makes me angry. But rather baking than driving. Greg's parents bought me a book called Hello Cupcake for my birthday so I felt a huge obligation to at least have a go. "Irresistibly Playful Creations Anyone Can Make", it says. Well, why not subject me to the documented torture known as "cooking" and at the same time trample all over my self esteem as, yet again, I realise that I can't do something that apparently "anyone" can do? The list is seemingly endless: driving, colouring within the lines, walking downhill without holding on. Breathing with my mouth closed. Cleaning my ears without ending up in casualty. Do we really need to add baking to the list? Why twist the knife? But of course, life is just one long test of my patience, challenge after challenge to see how long it'll be before one of my eyeballs explodes as an outlet for my frustration. MEANWHILE, EVERYONE ELSE HAPPILY COOKS LOVELY CUPCAKES AND THEIR FRIENDS SAY, "OH, YOU ARE SO AMAZING!".
You know, it's a wonder I keep my cool as much as I do.
The book (remember? The book I was talking about before my breakdown) suggests several intricate cupcake designs, most of which involve decorative ingredients that I've never heard of. I actually went to the trouble of ordering baking supplies online for this, I'll have you know. Well I couldn't decide whether to make the clowns or the pandas, so I took a little from both and thought, why not make Immortal? It seemed like a good idea at the time; I've never known Immortal to be a bad idea. We spent at least 15 hours in the kitchen working diligently on what would be the frostbitten kings of all cupcakes. This is what we ended up with:
We didn't even bother to decorate the others. We just threw them across the room, trampled on them, shouted at them and wept bitter tears. This is not what my life is supposed to be.
On the plus side, they tasted pretty good! Next week we're going to have a go at making Gorgoroth. I can't wait!
After absinthe, Greg recorded some vocals for his new album (which is a concept album about the bee crisis we're currently facing) and I don't remember what I did.
On Sunday, Greg took me for a driving lesson and I'm not sure, but I think I might be traumatised. I don't know why I'm so scared of driving. Obviously the consequences are severe should I make a mistake, but everyone chooses that risk and only a percentage of them end up dead or in prison. But I have to ask, if the purpose of driving is to get from A to B, is it really so worthwhile when you consider how likely it is that you'll never make it? I see cars on fire so often and I'm pretty sure they don't tell you about that when you're learning to drive. I don't even know where the fire extinguisher is kept in most cars. Emergency exits? Lifejackets?
Well anyway, Greg an I do a lot of car travel (we must be living on borrowed time) and I'm used to being the passenger. Greg had almost managed to convince me that being in control of the car would be much less scary than being in the passenger seat; every journey he takes me on is like the World's Most Dangerous Car Chases, albeit at a maximum speed of 55 and without the chase element. Well, I found out for myself that actually driving a car can only be described as petrifying (or possibly pulverising, having given it some thought).
Greg sat there with me and told me what to do, which I understood, but I don't see why it has to be so complicated. So far I'm not seeing the advantage over walking, which doesn't require any gears or... that thing in the middle of the car that stops it from rolling away (if you're lucky). He told me to move the car forwards using this strange method, and it worked but I didn't like it and wanted to stop. Greg hadn't told me how to stop, so I pressed the middle pedal and we did stop, but who knew you could get whiplash from travelling at 5mph? Anyway, then he told me the secret of stopping the car, but it didn't really make much difference. I think part of the problem is that my entire left foot and most of my right foot are numb, due to a combination of hard skin, a lifetime of dubious footwear and a circulatory system that could best be compared to custard in a sock. How do I know how hard to press on the pedals? Anyway, I was crying and shaking but then Greg told me that it's okay, he was the same at first as well. We came home and decided to try again another day. I'm determined to persevere, because Greg told me that if I pass my test, I can have any car of my choice, no matter what the cost, and I can get it all souped-up with flames and a huge rear spoiler and ornamental wings*.
*N.B. not his actual words.
When we had both partially recovered from the realisation that teaching a partner to drive often ends in divorce, we decided to do some baking. Now, I'll tell you something, I fucking hate baking. I can't do it, I don't want to do it, and sometimes it makes me angry. But rather baking than driving. Greg's parents bought me a book called Hello Cupcake for my birthday so I felt a huge obligation to at least have a go. "Irresistibly Playful Creations Anyone Can Make", it says. Well, why not subject me to the documented torture known as "cooking" and at the same time trample all over my self esteem as, yet again, I realise that I can't do something that apparently "anyone" can do? The list is seemingly endless: driving, colouring within the lines, walking downhill without holding on. Breathing with my mouth closed. Cleaning my ears without ending up in casualty. Do we really need to add baking to the list? Why twist the knife? But of course, life is just one long test of my patience, challenge after challenge to see how long it'll be before one of my eyeballs explodes as an outlet for my frustration. MEANWHILE, EVERYONE ELSE HAPPILY COOKS LOVELY CUPCAKES AND THEIR FRIENDS SAY, "OH, YOU ARE SO AMAZING!".
You know, it's a wonder I keep my cool as much as I do.
The book (remember? The book I was talking about before my breakdown) suggests several intricate cupcake designs, most of which involve decorative ingredients that I've never heard of. I actually went to the trouble of ordering baking supplies online for this, I'll have you know. Well I couldn't decide whether to make the clowns or the pandas, so I took a little from both and thought, why not make Immortal? It seemed like a good idea at the time; I've never known Immortal to be a bad idea. We spent at least 15 hours in the kitchen working diligently on what would be the frostbitten kings of all cupcakes. This is what we ended up with:
We didn't even bother to decorate the others. We just threw them across the room, trampled on them, shouted at them and wept bitter tears. This is not what my life is supposed to be.
On the plus side, they tasted pretty good! Next week we're going to have a go at making Gorgoroth. I can't wait!