Day thirteen was quite uneventful which is why, when I got in last night, I decided to have cuddle with The Man rather than write a blog.

Ah, feck. ‘Cuddle.’ Why isn’t there a better word. One that doesn’t suggest that I own pink tracksuits and sign off emails with ‘Hugs!!!!xxxxxxx’ ‘Cuddle’ is almost as bad as ‘cupcake’ has become. Who took over cupcakes and vintage teapots and turned them into a mulch of pathetic mediocrity and revolting girlishness?? ? Cupcakes, once tasty little mofos – naughty, wrong, brilliant – are the new Chardonnay. Or Pinot Grigio. The new word that GIRLY GIRLFACES like to bandy around to indicate their membership of a lovely frilly fraternity. Or whatever the female equivalent of a fraternity is. (Sorority?)

Wow. I’m very unlovely today.

So I think I’mm going to talk about something else which I find infuriating and gross and crap. I might as well now.

It has come to my attention that it has become COOL to become a volunteer in the post-Sandy clear up and aid operation.

Obviously, it’s cool to volunteer. It’s cool to help in any way you can because there are still hundreds of thousands of people here who are TOTALLY FUCKED. The queues for petrol are now seven hours long and guns have been pulled at gas stations. People are still without heat, light and water. Many are stranded miles from food stores. And thousands more no longer have a home. Literally, nothing.

So it’s cool to help. Of course it is. But I’m talking about moustache cool. Rolled up tight jeans with silly shoes cool. Vintage handbag with inexplicable haircut cool LOOK AT ME cool. I know this because my friend who lives here reported to me yesterday – with utter despair in her voice – that suddenly facebook and twitter are awash with status updates and tweets from these knobheads, shouting loudly about their volunteering activities. WITH SUPPORTING EVIDENCE OF INSTAGRAM PHOTOS. The final straw.


I guess I find it so disgusting because I used to be like that. A self-absorbed fuckwit who did good deeds only so I could show off about them afterwards. And I probably still am that selfish, insecure fuckwit, deep down. I still have it in me.

The difference is, I don’t behave like that any more. Why? Well, many reasons. The most important one being that, a couple of years ago, someone said to me that good deeds only count if you do them in secret. And I love this.

I love to be able to do something for The Man that makes him smile . . . but not tell him that it was me behind it. I give anonymous donations. I sometimes take care of someone else’s problem without telling them I did it. Send a present to someone’s house without a note, just to brighten up their day. That, to me, is giving.  It’s no-strings.

I blogged about my volunteering because I’ve been blogging every day since arriving in New York. It didn’t even occur to me that this was showing off. Maybe – on some level – it was. But I actually don’t think so. I trust myself these days to be able to give help without expectations of reciprocity.

Anyway, that’s it for today. Basically I’m amazing and everyone else is a twat.

Er . . .

If you’re new to my blog. I don’t really think that.


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