I am proud to announce the launch of misscherryred.com.

What started out as a channel for my ranting and raving has turned into something much more, for me anyway.

Please bear with me, the site is up and running, but I’ve got a few design tweaks that I need to make.

All the content from here is on there so come on over!

Miss Cherry Red xx

That proves it definitively.  The gospel according to iPhone shows.  More snow due too.  Joy.

So.  What do you do when it’s freezing out.

Two words:

Dress.  Up:

I think you’ll find the likeness between Keira and Stephanie from LazyTown quite uncanny.

She refused everything I offered her for her dinner.

Instead, she spent all afternoon asking me for biscuits and breadsticks.

She even asked me to bake cakes with her because today I was her best friend.

That’s right, I was her best friend.

She didn’t just like me today, she loved me. Openly.  Because she wanted the sweets I’d hidden on the window sill.  Out of her reach.

But I said no.  I was going to make dinner.  Plus if I’m not baking cakes, I’m not eating them

But if there is one thing my daughter is.  It’s resourceful:

And the treasure she was after?

A jacobs cream cracker.

Hardly worth the effort.

Tattoos

Lovely*

And my all time favourite shot of the back*:

* apologies to the more sensitive of you who may be offended by a picture of a bum.  It’s just a bum.  Don’t freak out.

I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I was starting to fidget on the sofa and I could see J was getting equally tired.

I walked over, took his hand and said ‘come to bed and give me a cuddle…..’

It was in my most sultry, soft voice.

Do you know what he said?

I just want to rub my head in your boobies!

And then he did.

Then he asked me if I felt sexy.

What?  What the hell? Are you serious?

Let me think, do I feel sexy after you manhandled me and rubbed your head between my boobs?

No.  I do not.

Not even a little bit.

What is it with men and their love of all thing breast?  I just don’t get it?

I mean I don’t walk around staring at J’s crotch and thinking ‘God I’d love to get my head in there’ and I certainly don’t walk around randomly talking to ‘Little J’

The same can not be said for men and breasts.

I’ve actually lost count of the number of times I’ve been out and been chatting to a guy at a bar and had to stop him to tell him to make eye contact with me because he was talking to my boobs.  One guy even told me he had names for them once!

Fuck.  Off.  Purlease.

Boobs are just boobs.  I mean, they stick out the front, block the view of your feet, feed babies and generally get in the way some times.

Just boobs.

What is the fascination with them?

J says they’re his.

Well, he’s can have them.

Let’s see how well he fares with them for a few days.

Doubt very much he’ll be wanting to permanently rub his head in them then!

For the record, my daughter is not, nor has she ever been raised by wolves.

Honestly.

What is the fascination with poo?

J was quite amused by the whole thing.  Well he would be wouldn’t he?  Most boys men find humour in bodily functions.

I do have to remind him every now and then that we’re raising a girl. 

Apparently she told J yesterday that she needed a poo and immediately screamed at him that he was to go away.

Nice to see she’s picking up essential female traits so early.  The come-here-I-need-you-no-go-away kind of ones.  Excellent.  Like mother like daughter.

Back to the poo.

So, according to J’s she’s on the toilet doing her thing.  She’s in there for a while when she bellows FINISHED!

That’s J’s cue to go in and help her ‘tidy up’.

But, instead of flushing the toilet she simply stands there, looking in awe at what she’s created.

It’s a poo.

Horrible, stinky, dirty poo.

Before she flushes she looks at J and says:

‘Wow, that’s a big poo for a little girl like me’

She walked away leaving J not quite sure what to do.

So I’m going to use Miss Cherry Red for the sole purpose she was birthed for: to share with you the ups and downs of love, life, motherhood and everything in between.

Except for my diet.   That’s a war I’m waging that requires it’s very own battlefield.

Come with me on my quest to rid me of my muffin top and lose 3 stone!  There’ll be photos too.

Or you could just read my stories and laugh at my suffering.

Whatever makes you happy.

I’m all about making you happy.

Honest.

Come on over: cakeisnotmyfriend.wordpress.com

mwah x

I was going to take us to Rome for the weekend.  Kind of a joint Christmas/birthday present for him and a nice weekend break for ‘us’.

It’s probably been quite obvious that we haven’t, at some points during 2009, been getting on so great.  Mostly to do with Miss Thing kicking my rational conscience out and taking up residence.  She’s been here too long and I’m working on the eviction notice as we speak.

But atlas, like another kick in my arse, Rome was not to be

Instead he was spoiled at christmas what with lots of man gadgets (xBox Live subscription, aftershave, games) and a new computer monitor.  Why the man needs to two in order to function in polite society is quite beyond me.  But hey, what do I know, I can’t even turn the bloody xBox on without one-on-one tuition from Keira!

Instead I opted to organise a nice meal and thought as his family live nearly 2 hours away, I’d invite them up.

Now, it was going to be a surprise.  The kind of situation where we walk into the restaurant and he finds everyone waiting for him and feels the love wrap him like his favourite winter coat.

But let’s be honest people, who in their right mind would drive 2 hours for dinner?

That’s right.  No one.

(I’d like to point out right about now that I had told his mum etc they could stay over.  Of course.  I’m not a total bitch)

Then I thought about removing the surprise, inviting everyone up and going out anyway.  But that doesn’t have a wow factor to it.

Why does it need a wow factor?

Because my boyfriend is a geek.  A major geek (hot though.  Very hot).

The only thing he wants for his birthday is some all action, all knowing remote control that can allegedly control every piece of entertainment equipment we have: the telly, the CD player, the xBox, the Media Centre (don’t ask, I just about know how to turn the bloody thing on).

And I am NOT buying it.  I refuse.

There is nothing sexy about buying a bloody remote control and I don’t think we’re anywhere near that stage in our relationship.  Yet.

So I chat to his mum about who is all ‘OK, well, let me have a think about it, let me see what we’re doing’.

Oh no.  She’s going to say no and then I’ll have to buy the remote control so that he gets excited.  Well, it’s that or super sexy underwear to entice him with and given that I’m having a ‘fat month’ thats even less likely than me winning the lottery.

Then on NYE she called me.  Here’s how the conversation went:

Mum2: Hello Darling

Me: Hello.  How are you?

Mum2:  Good thank you.  Tired after christmas though.

Me: Yeah, christmas was lovely.  Same time next year?!

Mum2: Absolutely – you can cook though.

Me: hahaha

I walk to the top of the landing and call J and tell him his mums on the phone.  He immediately comes upstairs, removes the phone from my hand and starts to chat.

J:  Hi Mum.  How are you.

I glare at him whilst he makes polite chit chat.

Rude sod.  I was actually talking still……..

some silence here whilst J just nods….

J: Oh.  OK.  It’s for you.

He hands me back the phone.

Mum2:  So, do you still want to take J out for dinner.

Me:  Absolutely.  Can you guys make it

I’m acutely aware at this point that J is hovering around, obvious that something is being planned so I gently shove usher him out of the room.

Mum2:  Would you like to take him to dinner in Paris?

Stunned silence at my end.

Mum2:  Hello?

Me: Yup, still here.  I’m sorry, did you say Paris?

Mum2: Yes.

Me: Er…. Um, really?  How… I don’t get it.

Mum2:  Well, I was thinking that for both of your birthdays we would pay for you to get the Eurostar to Paris with a two night stay.  You just need spending money.  Like I say, it’ll be a joint birthday present.

Me:  Well, that’s very nice but, um, I’d need to talk to our works to see if we can get the time off.

Mum2: OK Darling, well you do that and let me know.  I’ve got the full itinerary here.  Call me and let me know.

Me:  OK.  Chat soon.

We both hang up.

In pops Miss Thing with her two pence worth:

hahahahahahaha, pissed on your fire from a great height didn’t she.  There you were with your romantic gesture when in trumps Ma with a bigger and better gift.  Thrown a real spanner in the works didn’t it?  Hmmm, hmmm???  Silly cow – thinking you could do well with this one.

I took a deep breath and listened calmly to the other voice that said:

What a lovely thing to do.  She didn’t have to go out of her way, to research a weekend break for us, to have time to ourselves for both our birthdays so soon after having Christmas.  This is just what we need.

Miss Things stomped out, hands on hips wiggling her arse as if she were chewing gum with it.

So there we have it.  A weekend for us, in Paris.  I can’t wait.  I’ve never been to Paris.

The culture, the architecture, the Eiffel Tower.

And the cuisine.  Let’s not forget the cuisine.

Oooh, so much to see and do.  I uber excited.

I’m not eating frogs legs though.

That’s just gross.

What happened?

Lazy – that’s what happened.

My ass got lazy! Not any more – I’ve booked myself into a spinning class on Saturday (God help me) and I’ve banished any money from purse so as not to be tempted by the dreaded chocolate box at work. The christmas party season is rapidly approaching and I WILL get into that slinky dress goddamnit. I will…..

Monday, October 12th 2009. 14:46  :  So, lunch has been and gone.  Chicken Caeser salad adorned my plate this afternoon and if I’m to believe my fat-club bible, the contents of the plate are consider ‘super free foods’. Salad: Good. Caeser dressing: Sin (but such a good one). Chicken: Good. Apparantly on a red food type day I can eat as much chicken as I want and not feel bad about it. In fact, my fat club bible says that I could buy a whole pre-cooked chicken and eat it till I left only the bones and it still wouldn’t be a bad thing. Not sure my stomache would agree with that. Crisps consumed: None. Chocolate consumed: None, Sweets consumed: None

Monday, October 12th 2009. 18:06  :  My nan made stew. From scratch. And if there is one thing that my gran does really well, it’s stew. The tenderest lamb, potatoes, dumplings, vegetable and just a hint of oxtail soup. It’s divine.  It’s also very bad for me. She leaves the fat on the lamb because she says it adds to the flavour. She neglected to mention that it also adds to my waist. But it’s sooooo good. You know how chicken soup makes you feel when you’re poorly, or mulled wine makes you feel at christmas: all warm and fuzzy on the inside. That’s how I feel with stew. It would’ve been rude not to have some surely? Upsetting my nan is the last thing I want to do. Just a small bowl perhaps????

Monday, October 12th 2009. 20:00  :  Consumed more than I should have. Damn it. Will try harder tomorrow. And call my nan and tell her no more stew for me till next year! But at least I feel all warm inside

Tuesday, October 13th 2009. 13:12  :  J got up at 6:30am. Six-goddamn-thirty. Do you know dark it still is at that time of the morning? And for what? A cuddle? No. To go for a run. I should do that you know. Run and stuff. I trained for the Race For Life earlier this year. Nearly killed me too. OK, slight exaggeration. But I did fall and sprain my ankle. Flaming thing ballooned to the size of a small football. Bloody hurt. 8 weeks to recover and was forced to wear flip flops with a dress to a wedding. I can’t risk running again so soon to the christmas party season surely????

Wednesday, October 14th 2009. 13:07  :  Some inconsiderate ass at work is eating waffles. Sweet smelling waffles with a maple sauce. They smell so good. I had a cheese sandwich for lunch and feel completely unsatisfied. On a lighter note, I do have a fat club ‘assessment’ on October 24th. Saturday. I have exactly two weeks to lose a stone and continue giving the impression that I’ve been good since forever!

Thursday, October 15th 2009. 10:52  :  Winter spicy parsnip soup and bread for my tea. Very yummy indeed. Felt very good about myself Can not, however, have the same feeling this morning since I opened my desk buddies caramel digestive biscuits. Purely to enjoy with my cuppa…. Bad times

Friday, October 16th 2009. 14:42  :  I suck. My lunch consisted of chicken and chorizo parcels with a bag of white chocolate covered raisings to finsih. Fuck. Double fuck. Off to my mother in laws tomorrow. Fingers crossed I’ll do better there. She’ll have wine though. Damn it. Epic fail

merry christmas