<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d14970419\x26blogName\x3dgot+nothing+but+toejam\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://apositivepessimist.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://apositivepessimist.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d1936334061929898634', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
~got nothing but toejam~
simple hit counter
Saturday, May 27, 2006

In a perfect world.

I would be able to backspace and rewrite snippets of my life as easily as I do the typed words.

The little fat bastid [LFB] and I still have a month before my immigration application even hits the paperwork pile on some faceless persons desk. Hope they are not having a bad hair day when they do start their assessment of me and he. I know there is always appeals if I was to be refused but fuckit I'm tired of it all now. Fifteen months with fuck only knows how long left.

If I am deemed true enough...I will be in the same boat of the "go back to yer own country" people. I know there will be some days I would gladly do so. I will just have to remember to either a) shut my mouth or b) carry a big fucking stick when and if those words are spat at me.

The urge to buy a halfway decent digital camera is getting stronger. Considering splurging my future tax return to purchase one. I know that it would be a regret if I wasn't to get heaps of my beloved Australian bush surrounds. While I still can.

Fuck. I'm getting homesick and I haven't even left. Silly cow...That I am.

Still can't remember the "M" goats name...so I am going to lie and call her Marion. Maybe then the name will come to me. JD, Diva and Marion. Funny when I think we had goats in Kentucky and then I had dealings with the "goat lady" here...so now I don't want anymore goats.

The little turd JD. Such a baby, would pitifully bleat and bleat when you came home after leaving him for a few hours. He was funny to watch as he transformed from a sook to one with balls...trying to climb Diva and Marion as well as his rock pile.

JD...JD playing with Marion...Diva surveying her goatdom.

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us

Their feed trough was the one the LFB converted to our [almost a] killer bobsled by taking off the legs in winter.
Posted by apositivepessimist :: 9:51 pm :: 11 comments

Post / Read Comments