Categotry Archives: Food and Home

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The Wasteman Resurrection

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Categories: Baking, Misadventures

My Wasteman Carrot Cake Cupcakes

So this is a Baking Diairies and a Wasteman woes of old. When an ex crosses your present path. To recap: It’s 8pm on the last day of the long weekend and I’ve promised Slave Owner cakes. He wants healthy to go with his never decreasing waistline so I’ve done banana bread and carrot cake except, yesterday I had a cooked brekkie and ate some eggs so I’m eggless!

I look online and Waitrose Kings Road is supposed to be open but, bank holiday. If I go to Waitrose I don’t have to faff on the snack front so I can be in and out in like,  5 minutes. A record for me. I sling on my winter coat which never actually gets put away, my sparkly uggs and pop my headphones in as I march up the Kings Road. It’s more of a dance, waddle , march as I’m listening to the new MATM album and fantasisting about scoring a winning goal. Whole other story for another time.

As I pass Bluebird I hear someone call my name like I owe them money so, I keep walking. I also can’t see very well at night so although I can make out a black guy on the other side I have no idea who it is.

Turns out it’s this dude I went on one date with years ago who then got arsey when I didn’t put out and went on about all the money he had spent on a Marco Pierre White meal? This was way before I knew who Marco Pierre White was so, totally wasted on my Nandos level self. Besides the food was heavy and pretentious and left me uncomfortable, as did he. He also lied unnecessarily

He lied about being a banker (he worked in finance) and living in the City (more Bethnal Green) and spoke with a pretentious British accent which belied his 30 odd years in a naija village. Any hoo we weren’t friends. Why was he calling me so hard? I had heavy thoughts on my head like, what time did Waitrose close? Did the winning goal celebration constitute a shirt off moment? How had I left my house without earrings on?

Turns out he needed to see me at that particular moment because he had a new girlfriend and wanted to rub it in. Honestly? She’s cute. He’s punching above his weight. But I didn’t need the smug look of glee as he told me that the reason he hadn’t been around was because she was taking up all his time now. Dude, I haven’t seen you in over a year! Nobody is blowing up your phone wondering where the fuck you are! See earlier heavy subjects weighing my head.

He tells me how he’s trying to get her to move to Shoreditch. I look confused and ask him if he’s moved from his flat in Bethnal Green? He mumbles something about needing to be in a creative space. I mumble in y head about needing to create more wasteman lies. We both smile snark at each other. Why are we doing this again? Oh yes, so he can gloat.

I told them I was in the middle of a baking emergency and needed to get to Waitrose. Cutey pipes in with, ‘Oh, is it open?’ Ok so she’s not that cute. They’re a match . I run off and yes, Waitrose closed at 7pm.

How is this life? And the carrot cake cupcakes don’t like right. Too gloopy, too dark, too sinsister with the cinnamon. Kind of like him. Oh well, I’ll always have banana bread.

© Chelsea Black 2017

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Stop moaning Theo Walcott

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Categories: BLOG, celebrity, Health and Fitness, Latest, Tags: , , ,

Stop moaning Theo Walcott

So this morning I wake up and twitter isn’t saying much so I decide to see what’s trending. And out pops Theo Walcott. I won’t lie my precious. He’s not my cuppa. Good footballer but he needs to grow some balls first. Or some facial hair. He’s too damn pretty. Apparently it’s not about the money but about the position he plays. We all want to be the glory seeker darling but someone has to play in goal as the fat kids on playgrounds everywhere learn quickly enough. He’s talking about wanting to stay at Arsenal and become a legend like Thierry Henry.

Please! Takes a moment or 20 to have her favourite Henry fantasy involving a pitch, some shorts and….yeah that’s about it.

We are just getting over the indulgent overly patriotic reporting on the Olympics. But this transfer crap reminded me of my own sports petulance of shame. As a youngster (not that many years ago thank you)  I was given netball trials for the county. They made me play WD instead of GD. The key is that GD is more prestigious than WD which isn’t allowed in the circle. As you know even now I don’t like to kept out of the action.  After a few games I started to cry. I hated this lowly position I had been given. How dare they not recognise my talent as GD. Some coach heard me out and allowed me to play the last game in GD and ….I wasn’t great. I was fast and could read the game but I didn’t have the height or build to contend with my GA partner. I went home thinking that at county level I was a great WD but as a GD I was only mediocre. I also learned that when it came to team sports you have to be able to put the ego aside and play for the team not for yourself. Luckily I made county but only by a whisker I can imagine. And all these hard life lessons at 11 years old.

So now when I read the back pages and I read about Cristiano pulling strops or players being quoted as pulling strops like Tevez because they want to leave the club I just get annoyed. You’re a footballer let your feet do the talking not your agent in the back pages . It demeans you as a player. I know that this all about building your brand and telling the club what your intentions are but can’t you do it over a starbucks coffee like the rest of us? Negotiations aren’t tabloid fodder. And if you do want to be a legend like Henry then learn to have some class Theo. And maybe some decent facial hair. I dunno. Something more than whining about where you play.

As for the money. Over it!

© Chelsea Black

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The Black Body Beautiful Updated

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Categories: A-sexy: Etiquette Guide, Health and Fitness, Latest

To read the first piece done written last June please click here!

UPDATE:

So I wrote this last June and I never got a call back. I don’t think the last time the photographer saw me he thought he could photoshop out Maxine Saj, my Budda Belly. She’s a fighter bless her, I’ll give her that!

Pity because I had practised poses which hid Maxine perfectly. These were mainly me with my back to the camera or lying on my belly but, at least I had thought about it. Here’s another example of poses I had perfected. I still hadn’t managed to work out how to pull a sexy face without looking like I was constipated but, photoshop?

 

I also lost my gym membership and therefore pint sized Tia. I did manage to go 3 times this time which is a gym membership record as I hate gyms. Ok I cancelled it. I’m seriously allergic to the mirrors, unnatural equipment (About 20 minutes on the cross trainer. Cross training across what, chick? I don’t get it!) and those guys in the corner grunting and indulging in their homoerotic body worship.Ok those gym guys would be worth the membership if they could talk about anything else other than what they eat and repetitions and weights. You lost me on no alcohol my lovely. We have nothing else to talk about.

After an awkward incident where I was made to eat my fish sans Hollandaise sauce, Jamel fell in love so lets me eat what I want. Linda is on her way to coupledom too, Donna has a real job  and Aloe Vera juice is really not that tasty. I stick to cranberry juice, the occasional 10KM run and denying myself sweet stuff when I think things are getting out of hand. That’s you Maxine

 

The thing is that no matter what they say about loving you for you I love me more when my body is looking fabulous. I also love sex more so there’s nothing for it but for me to look fabulous to feel sexy. I’ve also noticed that my sex drive is much higher when I’m exercising and not planning reasons to have KFC.I don’t mind getting on top for fear of squashing the poor victim and I’ll even give the odd lapdance if inspired. (please note that the music selection isn’t negotiable. Leave my itunes alone)

So the sex etiquette is simple. Feel better, feel fabulous, f*ck better. Fancy dress also looks so much better without a bulging belly.

Alas winter is over and the coat has to come off eventually….I’m going to have to go for the body reveal sooner or later. Which reminds me, time for that run.

@ Chelsea Black A-Sexy  

 

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