Yesterday I was in no state to be writing anything. I had been to a wedding the night before and, in my infinite wisdom, decided to drink about three quarts of a bottle of red wine on the journey to karaoke kick ons, where I apparently fell asleep.

It took a dose of Super Rooster and some anti-nausea medication from Mum’s chemo days to even get my upright, so there was no way I was going to nut out a witty blog post.

And today I found myself still raspy-voiced and dusty-brained. Hence, I’ve turned to my favourite taking-it-easy pastime of interviewing myself based on magazine copy.

Today’s come from one of my favourite titles, Elle, which asks it’s contributors a serious of questions with the word “list” involved.

Invigorated by a surge of self-obsession, I went beyond the six questions thrown at the talented people on those hallowed glossy pages and sprinkled a few of my own questions in there. 

On my playlist: Lately, a fair bit of Metallica. I wouldn’t say it’s accurate to call me a metal head, but sometimes you just want a bit of smooth but heavy guitar to drown out the nattering in your brain for a few minutes. I also like to pair with the classic chime “park it yourself, Metallica breath” from one of the dudes in the brilliant and inspiring movie Don’t Tell Mom The Babysitter’s Dead.

On my reading list: I’m currently trying to get through The Diary of Anne Frank, and I really want to pick up the second instalment of The Handmaid’s Tale, but I’ve been reading a lot of magazines instead lately so I don’t see myself getting through either title any time soon.

On my to-do list: Bake more bread, do my tax return and buy new sneakers because my toes are poking out of the ones I have been wearing for the past two years or so, which can’t be good for my form in general. They also make me look like a bit of a drip. Oh, I’m also wanting to make my own sauerkraut for an upcoming Oktoberfest party, because I really enjoy putting in a ridiculous amount of effort to create something that could easily – and cheaply – be bought at the supermarket.

On my don’t-do list: Throw gym balls at unsuspecting victims just going about their business. Sometimes my brain like to conjure up scenarios where I act extremely out of turn and one of its favourite things to do is to give me the urge knock people over with comically-sized rubber spheres. To stop myself from acting on this malicious impulse, I have banned myself from carrying gym balls in public places. So far I haven’t slipped up yet.

On my wish list: Sneakers that don’t make me look like a bit of a drip.

On my ditch list: I’ve got a couple pairs of really warn, saggy knickers that don’t even hold themselves up anymore that need to go.

On my bucket list: I want to try one of those KFC Zinger pies before they go out of production again. I want to live, dammit.

On my blacklist: Those table and teaspoon measurement spoons that are all grouped together on a ring that you can’t separate, so you have to wash them all when you only used one. You think they’re super practical because they’re all kept together, but if you’re not an animal who keeps their utensil draw in serious disarray, you can generally find the spoon you’re after. They don’t need to be bound together. That’s just marketing creeping into our lives and enforcing bullshit norms that serve no purpose. Get out of my utensil draw, you capitalist pigs!

On my grey list: Corned beef. In general, I’m not a fan. Corned beef as a meal is seriously underwhelming and that bland white sauce/flour gravy bullshit that goes with it is like mediocrity in liquid form. It’s just not something I would ever order or want. However, I love me a good Rueben sandwich, which comprises of mostly corned beef. I love the Swiss cheese and the pickle and a kraut. It’s a cracking combination. So I can’t say that corned beef should be completely in the bin.

On my white list: Lamb. A thousand times lamb.