Skeletons in your kitchen


“The food was good if a little slow but probably skeleton staff on today. Not real skeletons of course – although they probably wouldn’t eat much in a kitchen so ideal staff really.”

“Haha. Good old skeletons.”

“Yes they are usually in the closet not in the kitchen…”

“Bahahahahaa!! Gay skeletons?”

“Potentially. Out of the closet and into the kitchen or preferably onto the dance-floor.”

And so begins my New Year’s resolution blog.

I waited for a few days partly because I was too lazy and fat and sweaty over Christmas to write it before 2014 officially began. But also, I didn’t want to tritely write about the life lessons I learned last year and how I was going to begin a new alcohol/meat/sugar/dairy/and joy-free lifestyle in 2014 which would turn me into a very boring person indeed.

So, I decided to write about skeletons in your kitchen and how I intend to have a “Knob-Free New Year” (KFNY). The quotes above are from an actual text message conversation I had with my brother the other day. And, no, we weren’t pissed. But absurd as the above banter may seem, it did have some relativity in my life.

Over 2013, I had one too many creepy skeletons in my life which meant I ended the year looking less like a skeleton and more like a hippopotamus given I’d been eating everything in sight in a futile bid to make me feel better. I also blame the removal of my braces which meant I gorged on nachos, peanut M&Ms, chocolate M&Ms, and those crispy M&Ms for that matter too for a solid month. By Christmas Eve, I would have made a very good replacement for Santa if he’d gotten sick.

Now the desire for a Knob-Free New Year comes from a conversation with a friend yesterday where we were discussing the pathetic state of my love-life and her desire that I enter into a “no-knob policy” for 2014. She clarified that the policy didn’t necessarily mean me having nothing to do with real knobs all year, but perhaps it would be a wiser move for me to discover whether the person attached to the knob was an actual knob before I ever got anywhere near his knob. Do you follow?

And her earnest offering of goodwill and advice, came smack-bang after one of my semi-irregular dates with the racing car driver where he tried to convince me that I had in some way manifested my shitty recent run of luck with men – him not included, naturally. Of course, I was incensed by his comment but still tried to remain utterly alluring.

“Why on earth would I manifest being stood up?” I asked as we sat beside Sydney Harbour with lust in our eyes and gloaty smirks on our beguiling faces. “Well,” the beautiful man sitting opposite me said “didn’t you say you always thought it wouldn’t last and  you had some negative energy about it which may have therefore come true?” I stared at him and said nothing. How very dare he? But my silence was not indignant rage it was mainly because he is a racing car driver and clearly he is not supposed to have any insight into such spiritual ramblings whatsoever.

So I sat there and pondered and seethed internally while also twirling my hair between my fingers and making come hither looks with my big blue eyeballs. I didn’t ever respond. I just sat there trying to look thin while secretly deciding – like any good spin doctor should – to subvert his philosophy to suit my own evil purposes.

I could accept that perhaps I spent 2013 worrying too much about my age, and getting involved in dalliances which ultimately were never going anywhere but quickly down the crapper. I could accept that last year I was probably more negative than positive most of the time and that is not usually my bag at all. I used to always see the bright side of life but then again I also always used to be pissed.

So, if “my” racing car driver is correct, and that I can somehow manifest positives and negatives into my life, then I obviously conjured him into my life at some stage when I was feeling very powerful, desirable and, let’s face it, probably just a little bit cocky. And having someone like him – albeit only every few months – in my life has been nothing but empowering, motivating and quite often very damn sexy. That’s all good stuff that I must have created all for myself. Nice work Nicola!

So, here’s to a Knob-Free New Year. A 2014 which will be devoid of knob-heads and skeletons in closets or kitchens. And a year which will be jam-packed with positive affirmations and energy and all that other airy-fairy crap. Good plan.

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