got nothing but toejam

All about pee.

2009-11-23T17:10:00.001-05:00

Yerknow I was thinking while taking my shower, that we [as Australians] have a lot of meanings to the word piss besides the taking of one.

Piss OFF before I punch yer head in…a direction when angered.
Oh piss off, yer takin the piss!…disbelief at a tall story.
Taking the piss…making fun of.
Piss on you!…insult.
Drinking the piss at a piss-up…drinking beer/alcohol at a party.
It was a right pisser…a let down.
She was pissy…bit tipsy from the alcohol.
She was pissy…bit angry, possibly because all the alcohol has been drunk.
Piss’d me pants…either laughing or from fright.
Pissed off…as in left or an angry state of mind.

Which brings me to...

Hands up who takes a pee in the shower?

Now is the winter of my discontent.

2009-10-29T20:30:00.001-04:00

I just realized a positive with it coming into *piss, bitch and moan* Winter.

The LittleFatBastid gets into I AM Hunter mode and is gone a lot.

This year he is better set-up for it, with a new kit of knives and saws. No. Not used for the killing. Yeah. Haha I can picture the FatBastid leaping out from behind a bush in camouflage face paint with knife thrust high in the air as he leaps onto startled passing deer. He may look like a caveman but he has not the agility of one. Now the grunts he has down pat.

Now he has a blind. He can sit and sit and sit, oh and still sitting, then shoot future suppers in sheltered comfort. He’s getting older, the snow, ice and rain affects his bones now. You’d think with all that extra natural insulation the FatBastid would be immune to it all uh.

I’m still amazed that people can be shocked or even offended with the loving term I use for my husband. But he IS Little, Fat and technically he IS a Bastard. Always find it funny, when those same one’s don’t bat an eye at their own use of the term motherfucker.

I know that I AM in KinFucky. But really. That happens more further south. ArHaHaHaaa.

Talking of relations…in both family and biblical sense. There’s this one resident in the nursing home that I just can’t bloody take to.

I dunno if its her squeaky little voice.
Her needy little ways.
Her big bulgy eyes that continually chase each other from side to side.
Or if it’s her fetid morning, noon and night breath.

I just can’t take to her. I have tried. She’s been there for a year or so now.

When she moved into the home, her homemade dresses also came to live. I have NEVER. EVER. seen such ugly-arsed dresses. They are all in the same style. About six or seven of them. In various colors with a mainstay of black throughout them all. A big wide length of material sprouts from the side seams, supposed to end up in a bow tied at the back. Yeah maybe when she didn’t weigh 250 pounds that may have worked. She’s a bit of a heifer now. I believe the dresses were patterned from one of the outfits out of a kewpie dolls wardrobe.

After first seeing one, I asked my boss if her family did not like her. Dressing her so.

Thus she is now known as MissKD.

MissKD came from a home life of having her poor semi-crippled mother at her beck, fetch and call. The crippled part is the reason we have MissKD at the home in the first place. The mum went into hospital for an operation and rest of the family could not care for. Or didn’t want to. I know which one it’d be if she were my sister. When the mum came out, I believe they discovered life wasn’t so bad, what with being out from under the thumb of slavedom and decided MissKD could remain where she bloodywell was.

You can tell she is used to being the only one needful. Having had numerous people doing tasks for her, she is unused to the living amongst 29 [on her wing] other people who are just as needful of another ones care. I hate seeing her “stuff” come down to the laundry. I know that she’ll be continually nagging everyone, me included until “whatever” is returned. Normally I wouldn’t give a rats-arse about her bugging the aides…yeah, sit on that call-light MissKD…but they in turn start bugging me about them.

The mother, father and a who-seems-to-be-normal-sister visit MissKD just about every day. The father and the who-seems-to-be-normal-sister take turns. But the mother. Always there. I quite like the family. They seem like just poor, good hearted simple folk. They just accidentally created and nurtured a fucking she-bitch of a monster.

After a few days of the laundry staff copping MissKD’s continual questions…

Apos are you working tonight? I could sense she was about to launch into instructions about how to wash and hang her dress. I cut her off with a…Well, no MissD I am here now, I work days mostly. Thelma is on tonight.

And her demands…

I only want Do-It-All-Dottie to do my dresses -- that was in a note left for my boss aided and abetted by Do-It-All, who had written it.

I finally got a tad snippy with her. She had made a big song and dance about “oh they came back” followed by a big fat happy sigh. TWICE…Well yes MissKD, of course “they came back”. Nobody else would lay claim to these dresses. We ALL know who owns them.

What I had time to edit was…Well Fuck yes “they came back” you bulgy-eyed-troll-doll. Nobody else in their right fucking mind would want to wear such ugly-arsed dresses. Hideous bloody things they are.

Yeah. I just can’t take to her.

checks the date

2009-10-20T16:53:00.000-04:00

Thinks I’m being pretty damn good to you people. I mean it’s just the twentieth and here I am back in blooger world blooging again. Either. Life has been pretty good or I’m letting IT treat me crappily. Luckily for youse it’s been pretty good. Or moreso I just partook of some homegrown AND I think it’s pretty good…Now I’m thinking, some days I tend to say “pretty” a lot.

I’ve been doing that FaceBook thing, have been for about a month or so.

How’s that bloody FarmVille. Stupid addicting game. I love it.

Don’t like all those soppy applications so much. People sending me hugs etc. Not that I am against hugs per se but I do find it kinda weird that complete strangers want to hug me. Then I think, hell they’re only human. Hee.

I find I can be bluntly non-offensive on that “add friend request”.

Had one last night from a motherly-figure in my red-headed-step-sister-in-law’s life… Yes, the lazy sister-in-law is on my friend list, so is that retarded Dora-the-Explorer look-alike that lives next door to her. But I digress, I was telling about the motherly figure…I debated whether to just add this woman. Then I remembered those “soppy applications”, so I sent her a message instead asking if she FarmVilled otherwise I wasn’t interested…We will see if I add another neighbour to me farm.

Work has been rather hellish.

Last week , I found myself muttering and mumbling about the crap-arsed job. In one particular moment I even went as far as to snarl at my boss that no-one should have to work like a dog for $7.75 a fucking hour. Then we both looked at the three mounds of laundry I had piled, waiting for their turn in the full washers. She agreed and let me rant a bit longer before she apologized about the pay-scale.

But what can you do eh.

This week we are down a dryer. Been five days so far. I have fingers crossed that the repairman is in there now fixing the bastard. Would hate to see it drag into the sixth day.

I might be pissed off tomorrow.

Truth of the matter, I will either pull my finger out and do something about it [as in, look for better pay AND conditions] or just get over it because it’s close to home, it’s dayshift and I don’t have any responsibilities. I mean real responsibilities. I can leave work at work. Well, I can if I don’t blog about it. HaHa.

Plus my boss loves me.

Deservedly so, tho.

I have thought about swapping with Do-It-ALL-Dottie, she the hag like woman who does the majority of nightshifts. Just for the change of pace and change in staff faces but with winter approaching I want to be home at night during those oncoming bastard months. I loathe and abhor winter. Sorry MotherNature.

Plus, she [Do-It-ALL] is wanting my position, well wanting a dayshift one anyway. Claims her husband doesn’t see too good to drive over and pick her up at night. That well may be so. I’d be shutting my eyes at the thought of witnessing Do-It-ALL’s beauty as well. HaHa…Mean. I might have accommodated her through some of our shifts, with a swap here and there during the five-weekly schedule.

That is until I heard that she had been complaining about the GoodSheilaWoman that fills in on my days off. Then I thought, well Fuck Her, if that’s how Do-It-ALL’s going to try and “claim” some day work. By bad-mouthing the GoodSheila…heh and yes Sheila is actually her name….who also works like a dog and for less money.

Had a H1N1 shot today. Took it up both snot-holes. Joy.

My Oh Bloody My.

2009-10-01T21:17:00.000-04:00

How the time has flown.

Vagina = 44 years!!

Long time no Bloggie!

2009-09-27T17:38:00.003-04:00

I am not one to apologise for absences, well absences in blog world.

Other than to say I been heaps busy beeatches. Yeowzaah.

Me and TheMoo [the dog] had an altercation with a skunk.

Skunk…1
TheMoo…0
Moi…0.5

I got a point because even when the damn dog chased the tail-waving skunk in my direction I was too fleet of foot to get a spray. Having long legs comes in handy when escaping the wildlife. However, I did, alas have to subtract half a point for having to deal with the aftermath of it all. Oh well, the FatBastid was able to fulfill his want of candles and incense sticks. Dude I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such big incense sticks. For a minute there I thought I musta been in bloody Texas.

FatBastid and his friend GoodForNothingJohn are joy-filled and plenty relieved that we purchased a brand spanking new under warranty for a couple of year’s ride-on mower for the next mowing season. They have done it tough. What with the mower continually breaking down and GoodForNothingJohn dabbling in lawnmower repairs, they were a pair of perfectly matched mates.

This past Saturday FatBastid had a trip to the local emergency room. He hadn’t had a poop since Thursday and if you know my FatBastid, he is nothing but regular. Almost after every meal regular. They were thinking it was appendicitis and if it was, he was going into surgery that night. After the CAT scan it was determined that he had perfectly healthy appendixes, but an inflamed intestine. After speaking with his family doctor a scope was deemed not necessary, much to FatBastids [and my] relief, we are both still medically uninsured. Now all is well with him and his bodily functions. Thank Bubbha, as I couldn’t take his pain any more, well, the telling me constantly about the pain etc. Yes, I know sometimes I am not too empathetic, but it usually takes a while before I start getting intolerant. They were a few long-arsed days, I tell ya.

Uhm. Oh yes, we purchased a freezer. Yay. Just in time for the encroaching blerh winter and deer season. The only good thing about blerh winter is the possibility of deer chilli and deer hamburger. Oh, and it somewhat slows down the visitors.

We planted our orchard. Well okay, FatBastid did most of the planting. I just helped with the selection of the fruit trees, oh and the paying of them. Two plum, two peach and two apple trees are thriving in their little mulched beds as I type. I’m sure both the deer and us will appreciate his efforts in years to come.

We have gone high tech, well high-bloody-tech for us. WiFi has been keeping us both on the net. My time is divided between yahoo chat, internet shops and playing games at Gamesville. Best $50 we ever spent. The best $136 we spent was in buying a MagicJack, going with a 5-year plan, bye bye phone bill.

TheMoo even went high tech and got some high dollar jewellery. She is now the proud owner of a $300 bloody WiFi dog collar. No, it’s not studded with precious stones. It’s studded with two probes that will shock her arse back within our fence line. Well, it will when we turn it onto that. At this stage she is on the *beep beep beeping* Danger Dog Robinson stage.

Here’s the spoilt bitch now.

Relations and other Irritations.

2009-07-02T12:55:00.000-04:00

You know, sometimes I want to hurt the LittleFatBastid really bad.

He annoys me so.

I know, I know. That’s relationships innit.

Luckily for him he has vacated the premises. I don’t believe the cupboard doors coulda sustained another round of closings…not quite slammed but neither gentle. Not noisy enough to risk his wrath but enough that I felt slightly, just ever so slightly better. But boy did those dishes get a good workout. I washed them bastards hard.

Ha. I get mad and do the dishes. If I’m really pissed off I clean the whitegoods…stove, microwave fridge. Fuck me ay. But its either do the dishes or unleash my no holds barred tongue on him. Yes I do have that ability to say not really what I mean always, but what I mean in the moment.

Why you little cocksuckingmotherfuckingprick…blah blah!

Yo! Feel the love uh.

Speaking of love.

I do adore my friend Alky but dammit sometimes I’m irritated by her habit of repeating herself or over-explaining things. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m like everyone else she knows, but fuckme I have the capability of remembering shit. And sometimes I’m pretty smart.

I am about to be tested.

We are going down to her brothers houseboat. Leave Sunday arvo returning the Tuesday one. Well, maybe we are going. She still has to confirm it with him. Which is something that irritated me. I thought it was a done deal. I mean I arranged to miss a day of work. A day, somebody who earns $7.50 an hour can’t really afford to miss. But she nagged me enough to the point I thought, yeah this little trip might be alright. It would get me out of this county and away from the same old scenery. A new scenery that must contain a mountain or two. After her third mention of seeing these mountains I had to tell her I have actually seen mountains before. Admittedly not this mountain. But Fuck. It’s a mountain. Move on.

Since she got fired I have seen a lot more of Alky. Like every day. Or so it seems. The blessing is she doesn’t stay overly long, just long enough to eat, piss and repeat shit I heard from her the previous visits.

Like, to remind me that I only need a set of clothes for the trip down there and the trip back and my swim togs for the day we are there. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m a prissy girl who doesn’t know how to pack for a two night stay somewhere, or, she thinks I’m rich enough to have a lot of clothes. There’s not much choice in my summer wardrobe. Shorts, tee-shirts, two pairs of ¾ sport-daks… okay now lets eliminate the ones that are holey and/or bleach stained…short, tee-shirt and the two pairs of daks. As for the swimming togs. Yeah right. I only do swimmers in the privacy of me. Cut-offs and singlet will suffice.

Or, to not smoke in her non-smoking-sister-in-laws car, if she gets to borrow it. Again, I thought it was a done deal and she was borrowing it. The non-smoking bit, I knew that soon as she said her sister-in-law didn’t smoke. See. Smart with a capital esssss.

Or, to make sure we vacuum, do dishes, make beds, turn breaker box off. Basically leave it as you find it. I was pretty sure, the brother as wealthy as he is, would not have a maid-service for his houseboat. All but the breaker box turnoff, I would think was a given yerknow.

Arrghhh but she’s a very good and generous person who means well, can be really quite fun when she isn’t repeating the same old shit. Maybe by the end of the trip I will have her trained enough to the “Bullshit Off” command to respect and not be hurt by it.

Death and other cat-as-trophies.

2009-06-27T14:34:00.002-04:00

So there’s been a few deaths lately uh.

My mother-in-law not liking to be outdone in the death, destruction and tragedy department rang to inform us that the RedHeadedStepSister’s cat had got run over.

I’m leaving the next few lines blank until I can think about a more acceptable emotion that may have washed over me in that moment. An emotion other than. WTF do I bloody care. Damn thing was a killing machine. Birds. Baby BunnyRabbits…and my fucking frogs. Well okay not technically my frogs but I like frogs so they’re all classed as mine. I much prefer the bird, bunnies and frogs to the “domesticated” feline.

We did encourage her to buy a bell for the killing machine. Encouragement was stepped up after I tied the wacking big “come and get it” bell around the cats neck…[Yes. I’m joking…thought about it tho] and a tinkly bell was purchased. It lasted around the cats neck for about a week or so. Don’t know if it came off on it’s own accord, or if it was aided and abetted by someone.

That is their excuse for not going to a birthday do for two of her grandkids.

The death of the cat.

I can’t help but think. Did the cat have a last thought?

Karmic or otherwise.

He’ll never be eligible for Mensa.

2009-06-22T03:04:00.000-04:00

I think I’ve made mention of my father-in-law being non to bright. A polite way of saying it would be, he’s dumber than a sack full of arseholes…except arseholes at least know that that’s crap that they’re cranking out.

“Mom. MOM. Johnny and me had to ring eleven-eleven-nine just then!!!”.

Luckily for the injured man it was Johnny who did the dialling.

He got laid off work about three months back. I didn’t think my mother-in-law would survive it. Him being home all the time, well home when he isn’t next door helping his friend John with his lawnmower repair business. Yeah he’s good at lifting things and fetching tools. Sometimes he’ll fetch the wrong tool. Sometimes he’ll fetch it wrong three times over. Usually you’d hear John start yelling a description of the wanted tool after the third time. Patience of a bloody saint that man John. I would’ve got the tool myself and been beating him about the head [lets face it, couldn’t give him anymore brain damage] and body after the second fuck-up.

Whose a cranky cow?

But my mother-in-law must be coping okay with his continual presence on the home front. She’s made an appointment to get him on disability for dummies. And Fuck if ever a man was eligible for this it’s him. I thank Bubbha that my husband is not from his loins. It’s his step dad. Although my mother-in-law would also be thinking that their home will be paid for if he gets it. Therefore she may be able to retire earlier also.

Then I think she’ll do him in. I know I bloody would.

Who are the three most dangerous people?

A bitch with a gun.
A motherfucker with a knife.
And a cocksucker with a broken tooth.

HaHa. Sorry but it made me laugh.

And after the day I’ve had I need a bloody good laugh. It all started with the phone ringing at 4.06am. They wanted me to come into work early as there had been a fire at the nursing home. Turns out there were no flames to this fire just lots and lots of smoke. Smoke that permeated all through the rooms. Hence a helluva lot of washing for the SuperLaundryCow to attend to. I have never seen so many laundry piles…well not since the HalfPriceSpecialGirl finally got fired.

Well crud.

2009-06-18T15:45:00.001-04:00

I’ve been gone so long I’ve forgotten how to fix my heading. HaHa. Oh well. Couldn’t be bothered relearning so we’ll all deal with it. Yeah? Yeah!

That is until it bugs my sense of balance....okay only took a day to start bugging me and I FINALLY found wtf was up with it. Frig I can be real cleverer at times. Heh

So you’d think after being away so long I would have oodles, simply oodles to yap about. Well guess what. I have bugger all.

Hmm.

We have a house.

We have just over five bloody lovely acres. Bloody lovely until it comes time to mow the two cleared acres of it. But that’s the FatBastids bitch, not like I mow them.

We have a dog. It’s a bitch of a thing. MistyMoo when she’s being good and that fucking dog of yours [directed at the husband] when she’s being not so good.

Still employed at the nursing home. Trying not to be. Figuring I can work just as hard slinging hotdogs at the local Kahns factory as I can at slinging shit from the dirty bed sheets. But alas rejection was in the mail today. Application still on file.

Been living amongst the HillBillies for over two years now. Boy time flies when yer having some fun and sometimes none. I’m still amazed at what breathes around me. A fine example of why it should be mandatory to have blood tests before getting married. Not that a blood test would stop the breeding program around here. Yeah, shoulda wiped that one on a tissue buddy!

I’ve discovered DrugStore. Com. Admittedly not the drugs I would like to order online but kinda fun all the same.

See. I did forewarn about the lack of substance in my life.

No pun intended. Although somewhat fitting.

Haven’t had that for waay too long. Perhaps that’s the reason for being blog slacking.

Anyway I say good day to yew!

FuckMeDead what a weekend.

2008-03-30T21:48:00.001-04:00

Thankfully I have tomorrow off, then four days work then I am bloody well free from God’s Waiting Room for ssssix daaaays.

Halle-fucking-lulah.

I dunno what came first. The sense of smell or the sense of touch. But I knew when I was elbow deep in the biggest runniest clumpiest piece of crap I have EVER known to be expelled from an old person’s orifice. That it wasn’t gunna be a good day. Oh JoY. Another day like yesterday. Another day where the fuckwits certified as the nursing aides can NOT fucking decipher the words Laundry and Trash OR know their pre-school colours. See we trrrry and make it easier for them. Yelllllow is for laundry and gray is for the stinking fecal filled DIAPERS.

DeadShits!

Luckily it took me a good ten minutes to go through the cleaning/sanitising of myself. I came oh so close to storming the upstairs and slamming the unbagged diaper and bedpad on the nurses counter. But that would have meant the housekeeper would have been stuck cleaning the shit splatters that would have exploded on everything in the near vicinity. Not like she was the one who mistook the barrels.

So to help make myself feel better I left a note for the HagLikePottie instead.

HaHaHa.

It was the second one I’ve left her this week.

Yeaah. See if she hugs me next time she see‘s me.

HA!

I feel like I should be saying I’ve died and gone to heaven.

2008-03-14T00:46:00.001-04:00

But fuckme wouldn’t I be lying!

That HorribleHag of a woman called Pottie has either been…a) smoking the bleach…b) sniffing the softener…Or…c) believes we are laundressers-in-arms fighting the good laundry fight or something annoyingly unifying.

Whichever one, I wish the fuck she’d stop hugging on me.

No really.

I told that HOH 420 Prancey she needs to get a directive out that no laundry staff is allowed to hug me. Especially Pottie as I am somewhat concerned that her lazy arsed ways might be catching. It’s not that I am against people hugging me [I mean, they are only human after all]…it’s just I like to actually “like” you before you do invade my personal space. Pottie I do not specifically like much.

The last two times I have crossed paths with her she has bloodywell hugged me.

Both times I have thought WTF is she hugging me for and now can someone, anyone, please stop her. I don’t care if they need to pinch her really hard to get the she-heathens grip released, just do it! If it happens again [and I have no doubt that it won’t] I am just going to start shrieking my bloody head off and hopefully the other staff will NOT think it’s just one of the Resoes having their yelling fit.

This is all much to the enjoyment of my fellow smokees, especially one of the nurses who cackles hard when I’m telling them about these horrific hugging experiences. More to the enjoyment of my mother-in-law who was fortunate enough to witness the last incident.

Speaking of work…haha as if I got anything else to talk about. Seems that’s all I get to do lately. Work. Oh. AND train two new laundressers. HaHa UnReliableJune quit. Finally. I did my best to instil good linen folding techniques, extolling the virtues of neatness to both trainees. I managed to refrain from openly threatening them if they become SloppySallies.

One is a lady of about sixty, SillySheila who on the first day of training said she can’t read very good so she’ll just hold up the name tag on the Resoes personals to match up to the names on the rooms. I just fucking looked at her and started to laugh in disbelief, mixed with a little bit of horror. Returning the personals is gunna take bloody ages for you then isn’t it, is what I told her.

I don’t think she’ll hack the laundry too well, 420 said not only was the sweat dripping off her and the laundry room covered in washing the first day she worked alone but she had to get 420 to return B-Wings personals. A task 420 wouldn’t be interested in doing every one of poor old Sheila’s shifts. That goes without saying.

The other is Dusk, in her thirties and lives close by. Bit squirrelly. But she’ll keep up with it good enough. If she forgets to do something the first time she’ll remember the second go round. Admittedly I could “help” Dusk more. Did a room plan and stuck it on the wall plus a written running list she can refer back too if needed. No use doing the same for that dear old SillySheila. She might have nothing to match the letters up to.

I had to laugh at 420’s reaction to this bit of inability to read info. She said well she signed all the forms. I’m like well yes 420 she’s gunna be able to sign her name, doesn’t mean she read the documents. Then she said that explains why SillySheila asked one of the office staff if she could take the forms home then bring them back signed the next day. Nevermind. She makes a good housekeeper. And she does.

Egg rolls and toothbrushes.

2008-02-20T18:35:00.000-05:00

I should be disgusted with myself. I’m so easy. Just buy me egg-rolls and my tolerance meter for people who shit me, restarts. Arhaaha. But Bubbha damn they are worthy and good.

Welp. As of February 1st, I got my fulltime position…*I acknowledge all yer clappings*… And got it with very little spiel needed. Actually I didn’t have to even talkto the Administrator…wasn’t he lucky. HaHaa! I only had to mention that I am seeking employment elsewhere. Yes, that is all it took to send 420 Prancey scurrying up to the Administrators office to ask for me to be fulltime. She was as surprised as I that he agreed without any need for argument. When told that she was taking the schedule home over the weekend to rework it, he told her he “didn’t care how she did it, just do it”.

So now I have the dubious honour of being the first ever fulltime laundressaah!

I hahaHA at the naysayers, namely the LittleFatBastid and my mom-in-law who said it would neverever happen in the laundry department.

Although, now I think I am about to be royally fucked by 420’s lack of ability in scheduling. I hope she makes me eat those words. But I have this awful feeling that some of my usual dayshifts are going to be given to her mother Odelle and I’ll be placed on the nightshifts. Mainly because Odelle who has been re-employed as the PRN…whatever that stands for, but she‘s the “back-up”…can’t see to drive at night. Ooooh ookay…*here I am making the WTF Face*…that makes sense, a PRN that can’t cover ALL and ANY shifts.

I’m thinking I might as well just bend over and part my fulltime cheeks now. But time will tell eh. Maybe it won’t be such an ouchie whose yer Momma moment.

Today, just when I think my life can’t be anymore rosier and joyful. I discover that the [sometimes fucking] painful irritant that has taken up residence on my little left toe is a corn. So now I can truthfully say I am experiencing all feetal [haha] impediments. My left money-foot contains all of the following…a heel spur, a bunion and an ingrown toenail.

But before you all start feeling my pain.

Let me tell you about the most disgusting, gut heaving moment I experienced about a week back.

My father-in-laws Aunt Ruth carked it. They were at the layout and had been for some time. I head upstairs to use the bathroom, the loo specifically. Whilst I am perched on said loo doing my wee I look over at the sink and notice the toothpaste is left unscrewed. That’s okay all I thought was damn lazy fuckers can’t even put the lid back on. I then think ahh I might as well brush the fangs while I’m in here. As I’m washing my hands I notice a toothbrush that looked funnily enough just like the new bendy headed purple one I had just brought that morning. I open up the cabinet to get my brush out of my toiletry bag, when motherFUCKER that IS my toothbrush.

YES! My father-in-law, he the brush only for weddings/layouts/funerals oral hygienist had used my fucking toothbrush.

As I said to the LittleFatBastid afterwards, I am so friggin thankful that he left it on the counter, un-rinsed of toothpaste and with food particles and gungy bits still stuck to it because if he hadn’t I would have been none the fucking wiser and would have used it.

Soon as he came in the door I told him Oi! we might be buddies but you using my bloody toothbrush is where I draw the bloody line at!

ooohkay are we all throwing up in our mouths now, or just me still?

So here I am with a spare moment up my sleeve.

2008-01-30T14:32:00.000-05:00

With the internet gods and the LittleFatBastid willing I may just get to finish and post this.

I have settled in quite nicely at Gods Waiting Room, a little too nicely if yer asking the LittleFatOne. I have conquered not only dayshift but also nightshift personnel. HaHa. Shame I’ll have to pull the finger out and look further a field for a better job. One with benefits and ~~more~~ better scheduled hours. That major HOH 420 Prancey has little clue when rostering staff, unless her wish is to undermine their health. Double shifts then backing up the next day. She’s just lucky I desire the mighty American dollar.

The LittleFatBastid keeps pointing the invisible finger at a factory that sits across the railway line from the nursing home. The same one I look at every smoke and lunch break. Funny all I feel when I look across at the cold metal building is bleakness. God’s Waiting Room is full of aliveness, which is amusing, considering it’s full of old cranky people waiting to die.

It’s because of my optimism that I remain there. I’m optimistic that soon they will realise my extreme worthiness and employ me with fulltime hours. I’m working my way up to a “chat” with the Administrator about the possibility of such. I know he likes me. I make him laugh. The benefits to them making such a good move would be at least they’d have someone reliable and happy, yes admitted happiness when washing the shit out of old peoples clothes. I think it’s more that rhythmic folding of the linen. It lulls me. I am at peace.

Peace until I go upstairs to the linen closets and see the HAVOC those messy fucking aides have produced. I know they hear me muttering obscenities and death-threats and have the good sense not to come back in while I’m re-tidying up. Don’t think I haven’t thought about asking to view the tape of the surveillance cams. But I realise it might be taking it a bit far. Plus I know I couldn’t NOT pay them sloppy messy waddyathinkIamyerMOTHERS fucking bitches back.

I’m even becoming less pissy and picky at my arch nemesis dear OldLazyArsedHag Pottie. Mainly because I have been on the receiving end of worse. Worse as in HOH 420Pranceys mum Odelle. The less said about that the safer I’ll be. I mean she IS over eighty. It be like kicking yer own Granny in the guts and telling her yer an absolutely bloody useless twat, now get outta here!

The reason for Odelle coming out of retirement [she used to work there]…that SillyOldSlutLynn fell off a rolly stool a month or so back and did something to her wrist when the rest of her bulk landed on it. She’s off work and seeking compo. Then UnReliableJune’s latest drama is something to do with one of her kids, not sure exactly what it is, but she’s on some type of leave too.

Which all works into my fulltime spiel to the Administrator. Funny, I have never ever had to “sell” myself before. I feel like the spider and they’re the flies. Pottie’s the big fat annoying blowfly that won’t go away anytime soon, but I can work “around” her.

After all I have abilities and pot.

holds a mirror under my nose

2008-01-08T14:10:00.000-05:00

Okay…Yes…Good.

I AM still breathing.

It appears I lost November and December somewhere over here.

No Kids! Chouff doesn’t do any damage.

So.

Where was I?

Oh who cares where I was, lets talk about where I am!

I am currently in a state of…a state of…uhm. Loving and loathing. A state of loving and loathing everything and everyone around me.

I love my job but some days I loathe it.

Yeah, never thought I’d be the one saying that, especially about washing old peoples undies. I loathe it mainly because of the pay rate. Seven bucks an hour. WhatTheFuck is SEVEN bucks an hour?? I know I should be thankful that it’s not minimum wage. MotherFucker that owns God’s Waiting Room [the nursing home] is a millionaire, probably a multi one. Owns two service stations, a real estate office, storage sheds AND a oil company. And yes I know his tightarsedness IS the reason he is so wealthy. He’s still a motherfucker, and I doubt a pay increase would make me feel any different about him. Unless it was a substantial one. Then he may just be a cocksucker instead of a motherfucker.

I love my in-laws but some days I loathe them.

Especially when they only seem to do their laundry when I come home from work. Not like I haven’t been listening to a washer and dryer going non-stop part of the day. MotherFuckers have had all day to do it. Or more so, one of them has. Lazy little red-headed-step-sister-in-law bitch that she is. I don’t care how “special” you are, you should still be made to do shit. And really I wouldn’t class her as being in the high percentile band of retardism. Far from it. Funny, I typed that and then the motherfucking dryer is started up…and now there goes the washer starting…I bet it’s my mom-in-laws doing.

Just like it’s her “protections” that her youngest daughter [the red-headed one] has no fucking inclination and [sometimes] no bloody clue how to do stuff. I’m betting, now that my mom-in-law is older and not in the best of health she is regretting those doings. Yes, the LittleFatBastid and I do most of the household running, mainly so my mom-in-law doesn’t have too. With a nearly-thirty-year-old non-working daughter in the house she shouldn’t bloody need too. That’s bullshit that is. I do truly believe she will miss our arses when we’re gone. She’ll be back to doing everything and I mean ev-ver-reething.

It’s only been in the past year or so that she no longer washes Claude my father-in-laws hair, not because the hair washing was a loving gesture but because he didn’t know how to do so properly. I fucking kid you not. I do wish she would have carried on his dental hygiene tho. Some days I dunno if the food falling out of his mouth is this meals or one from last week. I tell ya, if yer enjoying yer meal, yer don’t look across at Claude eating his. HaHa. The man doesn’t know how to work plastic food storage bags, he just rips a hole in them. Never mind the big yellow and red stripes denoting the fact that the open and reseal is HERE!!

I love the people around here, but some days I loathe them.

Mainly because they’re pretty stupid. Normally I adore stupid people, that’s because usually I am in a tops mood and they are there and they amuse me. But when you cross stupid with devout it’s a whole different kettle of jesus fish. Every now and again 420 Prancey will blurt out it being the debils work when discussing “current events”, the last piece of his efforts concerned the latest imports from China. Yes, occasionally they’ll deviate from the usual lunchtime talk of “what ya eating” or about the weather.

Usually her religious spiel is said in wonky-eyed-Henry‘s direction, who is a definite representative of “someone’s” sense of humour. Be it Gods, The Devils or Bubbha’s. Personally, I lean towards The God of all Hillbillies~Bubbha. I think that would be just his style yer know. Yes, I realise it’s kinda wrong to poke fun at the more unfortunates. But shit. They’re THERE. Now I know what they mean when they say America is the land of plenty. PLENTY of what I never knew. Til Now. HaHa. Okay I can see some may read that and be pursing their mouth and arse cheeks tight.

Just the other week [ in my mind] I was furiously beating him about the head and body with the Birds and Blooms issue he was “look at this!…Look At That”…ing at all of us clustered around the table. I like a person who can read something without having to include everyone else’s attention into it. Yes, just read quietly to yourself, I don’t even mind if yer lips move while you are doing so thankyouverymuch. Unless it’s really good, then you may share. It never is with Henry.

Thankfully in some rotations I only see him one or two days in the week.

Piss Off I have the LIFE NOW!!

2007-10-19T15:29:00.000-04:00

So it appears it’s been over a month or so [WTF a whole bloody mooonth???] since I last blogged here. I just bet youse people missed me heaps huh!! But until me chouff kicks in and I feel like weaving a web of words re: what’s been going on with me…which has been lots and LOTS…for you nosey buggers.

~~I will keep it short and concise.~~

My vagina and I kicked over another year. Thankfully I wasn’t rostered to work that day, or else the LittleFatBastid might have missed me taking him out for the day and then buying him a meal. Yes, that’s right I paid for my birthday. Gotta love the little fat fuckers audacity hey. I can’t waaait til it’s his day of birth to see where he takes me. Better be worth his being born. HaHa.

I starred in a production of The Best Little Nursing Home in ~~Texas~~ Kentucky. I’m just hoping my ad-libbing and re-acting to the Judges questions didn’t make it to the promotional film shot. I’ve confused you now have I? Okay I need to back up a step.

Before my laundry skills were employed down at God’s Waiting Room they had entered and won for Best Nursing Home in the District. Now they’re going for the State. As seems to be the way with some people and their incessant need for the “titles” of being THE Best, Biggest, Baddest, godliest etc; they went all out to secure the bragging rights in the nursing home business.

Upon the day of Judgement, I had to laugh when I saw what came out of the various store-rooms to help dress up the place. Pictures suddenly sprang from the walls, vases of flowers were suddenly in bloom, coats of paint were applied. Even our old metal chairs in the staff room had white slip covers placed over them…Incidentally, we so better get a fucking jacket if we win State. Mind you, they’re still waiting to receive the tee-shirt for District. I bet that bloody owner is holding onto the tee’s just so he can save a few bob and add “Winner of State” to them, if indeed they do win it. Yeah Mate, I got yer bloody number.

I kinda stopped laughing when the sixty-one fucking beds consisting of top and bottom sheets, pillow-cases, bed pads and blankets NOT to mention all the residents own quilts were changed and given to the Lone Laundresser [that was me BTW] by the over-supply of CNA’s…usually stands for certified nursing aides but this day I thought they were more right proper cunt nazi arseholes but I digress. Some of us were busy as all fuck. And some of us had time to stand around looking pretty. I was in the former category.

But back to the promotional video, it’s to be aired at the Awards night next month. And that’s where the attendees will see some Aussie piece placing her neatly [it ALWAYS is] folded linen onto the storage cart. If I knew I was going to appear on film I would have attended NIDA’s Dramatic Institute of Performing Arts and practiced my smiling grin instead of having to use my snarly one.

Ha! I’m in the short film business. No. No autographs “freely” given.

“Hello, is LittleFatBastid there?”

2007-09-12T11:48:00.000-04:00

Was the first thing I heard this morning, well second really, the phone ringing was the first thing. It was ThePreachers son OhDanielMyBrother wanting him to come out and ~~play~~ work. That’s the last I saw of my husband. I went to the loo for my morning poo [I am nothing but regular] and when I exited he was *le poouff*, gone.

What unexpected good fortune.

Haha it’s times like these that keep me sane here. Although I did say to myself…you watch that fucking UncleRussell turn up here. Already I have my door locked, ready to leap down beside my bed at the first syllable of his top of the stairs “Yer THERE?” yell.

If forced to do the above I will then *hope* I don’t sneeze or cough.

There is a chance of that as I have managed to pick up the lergy from the FatBastidOne. Not as bad as he had it, but annoying enough. Luckily, I have a sickly sister-in-law that rang in a script for antibiotics, which I am on day four of.

*takes pill now*

I am proud to say I have only surprise snotted myself once. No witnesses to it either, even better. I dunno about you, but to me that would have to be one of the most embarrassing things to do with a cold, it’s up there with the surprise cough that shoots a wad of the brown jelly outta yer mouth.

Although you do score ten points if it lands on someone you aren’t fond of.

Speaking of being not fond of. I’m not fond of this freaking internet provider, every time I see the talking ad for them I call the spokesman a bastardcocksucker. Yes it makes me feel somewhat better.

Back at work tomorrow, just in time for “Appreciation Day” for housekeepers and laundry people of the world. WTF??. Haha that cracks me up. I guess us housekeepers/laundresses are people TOO, dammit! Apparently there’s a little party between 2.30 and 3.30 tomorrow…whoohoo a whole hour. Wonder if I’ll get paid for it, as I finish at 2.30.

I feel I’m too new to get out of it [yes I tried already…hahaha] besides, sometimes I kinda like sitting back and watching my fellow co-workers, especially at partaay time. Arhaaha *cackle, snort* thinking about them partying. With the prim lipped Kerry, the wonky-eyed-not-quite-right Henry, 420 Prancey, cartoonish Pottie, AdorableDitzJune, LooseVaginalLippedLynn, my mother-in-law and me.

Anybody would think it was a RetardsAnonymous meeting with me as their leader.

Haha wonder if I could wander off and have a chouff first.

Seems so much has happened, yet not really.

2007-09-05T15:29:00.000-04:00

I’ve started working. Well, really I’ve started being paid for doing it. For the princely sum of seven buckeroonies an hour I get to shake the farts and other various liquidy matters, that we won’t go into just yet, outta old peoples laundry.

Yaaay ME!

Went in for an interview with the HOH Prancy, Thursday gone. After answering a list of questions; watching nearly two hours of health and hygiene related videos; reading, filling out and signing a stack of paperwork; introductions to a fuckload of the other staff working [yeah like I’d remember many of them]; verbal fire-drill with the maintenance man, I started “work” there and then. Basically just familiarising myself with the homes layout via one of the housekeepers.

Friday, I went in to be specifically trained in the laundry department, only the trainer didn’t turn up. Haha. Yep. She had quit that morning. And No not because she heard she was to be training moi in the art of LaundryBitchness. Instead, my training consisted of being periodically assaulted with instructions by the rather high-strung Prancy, every hour or so. She kept apologising for the unusual hecticness of the day [it was an absolute madhouse] and in the next breath hoping I’d still come back the next day.

Made me laugh. Takes a bit more than that to scare me off. But I guess she had reason for the repeated statement as two of her staff had resigned in the previous week. With another one [LynWithTheLooseVaginalLips, my neighbour] working out her two week notice. My weekend was spent working alongside the school senior Steph [lovely girl] and Monday with the AdorableDitzJune.

Tomorrow is my first rostered day by myself. I’m looking forward to it. What I am not exactly looking forward to is knowing that what I thought was dried snot on one of the old guys hankies is not actually mucous but the results of his daily wanking sessions. Yes, somebody needs to buy that man a box of tissues, better still, throwaway hand wipes.

Arhaaha. Sunday was the last time I’ll shake hands with that old dude. Now, I just have to pinpoint the other residents known to masturbate. Apparently there’s a few.

I did have the pleasure of having my left arse cheek cupped firmly at first, then pressure squeezed by an elderly hand. One of the aides intentionally drove her up close enough behind me in one of the wheelchair hallway traffic jams. By the time the hand had clawed it’s way to the back of my scrub top I needed the help of two aides to be released from her clenched fist.

Maybe I should get her and TheWanker together. Nothing would easily escape that grip.

MutterBitchandMoan.

2007-08-22T15:45:00.000-04:00

Avert yer eyes now I’m about to get slightly CatWeaselly.

Motherfucker. If I hear one more of them whining about being alone and bored, that’s why they came out to visit. I’m gunna be tempted to put my bad foot up their arse. It’s that “being bored” that gets me the most. When I’m alone I am never bored. Too rarely am I alone.

The UncleRussell is talking about dropping in later. We just saw him yesterday. He arrived in time for our dinner. I’m in my phase of tired of looking at him let alone jacked off at having to entertain/listen to him as he is eating my porkfuckingchop.

One can only take so much conversation about the SAME fucking topics that have taken place in previous visits. The one’s where he is all pussifired up, probably grind my teeth the most. It’s like he has to drop the “pussy” innuendoes and he’s not being completely rude with it. More school-boyish. Like haha pussy, pussy, pussy. I just ignore him, alas others seated around me feel they have to force a laugh for his comfort. Which only encourages him even more.

Truly, some days I sit there wondering if they can ever hear the screams that are reverberating around in my head. I’m sure they see my fists scrunch as my fingernails dig into my palms.

It’s not like I can completely ignore his visits or really anyone’s as they’ll clomp down the twelve steps into the HellandTarnation room to visit me if I don‘t answer when they yell down the stairs. I’m like fuck me dead there are four other people up there, drifting off to go do their own thing. Why can’t I. I mean, he isn’t MY Uncle. Don’t get me wrong. I like UncleRussell. In small doses and with at least a week in between his visits. I like him plenty.

People often ask if “I like it here”…six times out of ten I am tempted to ask if they mean like in the right now of my personal existence or just here in Kentucky generally.

Without FUCKING fail. I settle into doing something and someone “drops” in.

Fuck, Fuck, FAAARK.

Like just then, the red-headed-step-sister-in-law plonked on my bed as I was getting into my blog. A blog that I have no interest in any of THEM finding. It’s not like I can pleasantly say Fuck Off Now Please, she’s in the not completely right basket so it would hurt her feelings.

Instead, I wait her out only to then find I’ve been booted off the freaking internet.

Time for a smoke.

Well what do you know??

2007-08-13T16:09:00.000-04:00

The BitchSlappingSite is back up and running. What a pleasant surprise. When I click through to the “list” of waitee’s, scrolling down, seeing a few blogs that I read on the waiting list…then *blink, blink*…ut oh to find my blog on the list…haha I reaally don’t remember submitting it. I mean for a second time. I really only like smacks so much yerknow. Was more than happy with my four from before. All that “let sleeping dogs, lie” rule I have. Haha…not quite right analogy.

Maybe that’s one of the changes…we can submit others blogs? Whoa *crack* that could be fun.

Anyway. They’re back. Go play with them.

But before you do. Guess what?

I found MY hairdresser. Yes. Ha. Hopefully she won’t die or nothing. I walked out of the salon with nary a 80’s BigHair in sight. Lucky for her. I did express my wish not to. I mean it can get slightly concerning seeing all these Dallas and Dynasty styles still floating by. I made it a mission to ask them who/where their hairdresser was, to make sure I never booked an appointment there with them. So yes, very happy with Judi’s Attitude in Hair, particularly Judi.

Soon as I heard her on the phone, more so, soon as I *knew* she understood me on the phone, I liked her. Didn’t hurt that she called me sweetie a few times, neither. Haha. After I got home and checked out my hair, I liked her LOTS more. So rang her to tell her I loved it and would be back. She’s newer to the business area, only been here six months. I figure she’ll do fine in the area.

Other than re-killing my grey hairs.

I feel like I’m falling apart.

Not mentally haha never mentally but physically. After overdosing on the many episodes of “Snapped” I have even jokingly *narrow eyes* accused the LittleFatBastid one of slowly poisoning me. I guess one can only take so many “okay time to Shut-Right-Up now, yer starting to annoy me” before one starts to plot and plan another’s demise.

My left ankle is the size of a clubfoot. First of, it was painful, not now though. So I don’t know what to make of that. I continually stare at it, wondering what the fuck is going on there. I don’t remember twisting it. But now I have a fat ankle. I’m thankful it’s not the both of them as they are pretty ugly.

My left pinkie and ring finger are like they have no strength and hurts to scrunch them up into a fist. I told the LittleFatOne that no doubt that was caused from gripping the big tub of coffee when I made ALL the pots of it like I have the past few days...it’s not right to feel like yer just a CoffeeBitch in life.

My right side from waist down along the leg aches like a right bitch at night. But I have discovered the joys of stealing half a horse tablet pain-pill that belongs to my mother-in-law. Damn if I ever have to totally give up chouff I’m gunna get me some of them bastids. Within an hour or so after taking one, I sleep like ThePoodle…all grunts, farts and drools.

Is it because I’m finally getting older?

Yeah. Probably.

My favourite so far.

2007-07-28T15:15:00.000-04:00

Also the LittleFatBastid’s favourite but that’s because it holds lollies.

......

Thinking the BumCrack will be my “signature” on them.

What’s been going on with mah bad self?

2007-07-22T14:46:00.000-04:00

Uhmm. We have chooks now. Admittedly not how the LittleFatBastid had envisioned his chooks would look and live like exactly. But we have them regardless. Twelve of them…haha might call them the Apostle Chooks. Although I don’t think we’ll have 12 for long as about 5 of them are roosters. And Yay Banties. A rooster and two hens. Lovely fawn colour to them.

Went down to help The LFB’s aunt Inez and uncle Russell clear out a storage garage yesterday. Woo. We know how to partay hearty huh. We thought it was their stuff, turns out most of the junk in there belonged to their daughter/son-in-law/grand-daughter…that / there designates three people not just the one person…thought I better clarify that beings as I’m in Kinfucky.

The clearing out soon turned into a yard sale.

Funny when I had the thought “Damn. Look at me. Here I am sitting out in a recliner [ a very nice and comfy one fer $15] on the footpath in countrytown America.

I so badly chided myself for forgetting my camera. Again. Could have got bloody pictures to go along with this…

Old black dude with the biggest bottom lip that I have seen so far in my travels come cycling up asking if the yellow bike was really “for free?”. A ten minute conversation ensued between him, Russell and the LFB about how free it was, “You mean I can just take it?”. He eventually, happily walked off between his green bike and new yellow Shwinn bike knowing that he wouldn’t be accused of “stealun it”. Apparently he was from the “Not Quite Right Home” up around the corner…meaning about four blocks away. I wondered what they thought when he come in with an extra bike. They’re probably used to it. He seemed a bike enthusiast.

Saw this one dome shaped bald headed dude, in his drooping bib n braces come shuffling across the railway tracks…I instantly thought of where he was residing. When he saw the crowd of us sprawled along the street he kinda stopped and hesitated, shading his eyes, as if determining whether to keep coming over towards us. He must have decided we were okay as he kept on coming. The LittleFatOne says “Look baby that’s me in fifteen years” and it may could be. Haha.

The lady along with her old farmer husband and tractor driving hatted son bought a lovely old dresser and mirror for $20. She had the most amazingly gravely voice I have ever heard on a four foot nothing woman. I second looked just to reassure myself she had breasts. Yeah I know that doesn’t mean nothing. But by the look of her husband he would have no truck with none of that.

The pot bellied woman in the white tank top and cut off shorts with four kids, one older girl and two girls in closer age, the youngest a boy Chad. I know his name because she was forever chiding him about touchun stuff. She actually started warning him when they were getting out of their truck. “Don’t you be touchun and breakun stuff when we get over there Chad” walked off with three kiddies videos tucked under their arms.

Had to suppress a small cackle at the capri jean shorted lady with the tummy who paid ten bucks for the AbMachineBed. Not at her buying it, but the sight of her laid out on it trying it out. I thought surely she would stop stretching when she felt the sun on her newly exposed white belly. Nope. More of it got in my eyes.

It’s kinda weird to be anywhere and think if I don’t open my mouth they think I’m one of them.

Having a FIGJAM! moment.

2007-07-08T13:25:00.000-04:00

That's ahh Fuck! I’m Good Just Ask Me moment.

The pessimist in me was not expecting much out of PissPotPat at the July 4th Family Spectakulah. Usually the man is just downright rude and pretty much fucking insufferable. So what a pleasant I say, I say, a pleeaasant surprise that the dude was actually acting like a genuwhine human bean. I quite enjoyed his company. Amazing what moderating one’s drinks can do for some people. A vast improvement. All the family agreed. After they got over their gobsmack of it all.

I must say I was in fine form. Quite the ChattyCathy was I. The LittleFatBastids five foot nothing Aunt Inez told me to “just give me a huggh” and when I did she says “I just love yew to death”. Yes, she too is only human. Ha. I rock.

I was a tad disappointed though. We had five Hillbillie men down the hill, a coupla hundred dollars worth of fireworks and not one mishap was to be had. We’re not counting the one that fell over and shot it’s flaming ball at the soon to be chookhouse. No damage incurred. Apparently last year it was like a scene out of StarWars. Unintentionally the LittleFatBastid and his Dad Claude had a light sabre battle. A firework fell over and had shot at Claude, he thought the FatBastidOne did it on purpose so the next one he lit up he pointed it in the BastidOne’s direction. Yeah I have mentioned Ol’ Claude ain’t wrapt too tight eh.

In between my LaundryandGoodHouseKeepingBitch role and amusing the extended family, I’ve been alternating between gardening and gourd painting. Now, I dunno about you, but there are times I just amaze myself at just how bloody clever I am. Usually I’m used to my greatness yerknow. HaHa. In the process of painting up a Lolly Jar disguised as a FatLadyBather. Inez supplied me with the gourds and my brain hasn’t stopped buzzing with ideas since.

Seeee, that’s what the good old smoko does fer me. I’ve got ideas coming out of my arsehole.

I am too good.

Reason #202 why I married the LittleFatBastid.

2007-06-29T14:05:00.000-04:00

He likes it when I’m mean to him.

Arhaaha.

Yesterday we were having our coffee out on the front porch. I threw my cold dregs over the railing in preparation of getting a hot one. The FatOne says something, to which I threaten him that the next time I’ll throw me dregs in his face instead of over the railing…like this!

I mock throw my cup at him when shit I still had some coffee left in it.

There he sat with cold coffee dripping from one eyebrow, pooling into his right eye socket.

Giggling.

Smootch My Snootch # 3...[I think]

2007-06-20T14:31:00.000-04:00

Because I would haaate to have anyONE saay I was slipping in the Smootch My Snootch department I give you the following…[psst good to read you back Lady!]

To the stupid woman at the checkout who allowed her spawn to ding her in the head with a box of poptarts when she said he couldn’t have one. Not like he was walking out of the store with a brand new bicycle…then again it was like that. He was actually walking out of the store with a brand new bicycle. Red it was.

Which would have been the colour of my fucking face once I got dealing with THAT little ungrateful fuck. In my bloody daaay that woulda earned me an arsebeating to my BadGrannies State and back.

What did the Mom do, you ask?

I know some of yers did…others KNOW what she fuckingwell did.

AbSOOlutely bloody nothun.

I understand him not getting the beating…only because of the reportage of it and all that dealing with the CSI stuff, oh hang on, no I mean CPS stuff. But *insert redneck voice* Boiy I woulda thrown it under the next passing Chevy truck, or at least taken it back in and got my money back.It being the bike not the brat.

That stupid cow gets to pucker up and Smootch a big fat one on the magnificent all over, rather large black woman wearing the canary yellow strapless terry-towelling sundress at the Chinese Buffet place in Newport…[where we went for our 5th year anniversary dinner yesterday]...yes HER Snootch.

Yeah Smootch it StupidArse Mother of the Universe. You are bestowing on the rest of us a really really great gift. Another spoilt, fucked up human.

Yes. YaaaY to You!

Reason #631 why I married the LittleFatBastid.

2007-06-15T13:30:00.000-04:00

I just heard a thud from outside.

The LittleFatOne came into TheHellandTarnationRoom giggling and said “I just fell”.

Oh lookout I’m choking on my spit I’m laughing so hard.

A day perhaps more a week in the life of Me.

2007-06-11T16:35:00.000-04:00

You know what I love about this internet connection. Yes there’s always a bloody positive. In the time it takes me to load one of your punk arsed bitches blogs up, I can paint another layer on my “Biker” gourd…Or add another paragraph to this post.

The LFB and his Uncle Russell are down over the hill levelling off their soon to be chook house. Just from the random swearing bubbles that float on up the hill I don’t reckon it’s being as easy as they both first thought. Heh. But they’re getting there with it.

It used to be up closer to the house; but Claude went and got himself a brand spanking new shed. Damn was he excited. That’s all he spoke about in waking hours. From the time his feet hit the floor until they lifted off it at night-time that man did NOT stop yabbering about his soon to be shed. He cracks my fat arse up.

The removal and relocation of the old shed was a highly attended spectator event. Had Russell’s wife Inez, his daughter Rhonda, son in law Dwayne and grand-daughter here as well. We made sure his daughter video’d it. We were all ~~hoping~~ thinking a few bucks could have been made off Funniest Home Video. Had the deck chairs lined up all along the back porch, drinks, munchies and smokes in hand.

Of course, all I could picture was Claude leaping in front to halt the rapidly speeding down the hill sheds progress…yelling “WhaHu…I’ll stop it MoM” if it got lose of its restrainers. As it was, Johnny from the place next door had to come over with his mini tractor, hook the old shed up and drag it down over the hill. Claude assisted by sitting on the front end, weighing the tractor down. I missed seeing Claude’s face when the tractor was rearing up like a bucking bronco on takeoff. But I sure can imagine it, he‘d a been WhaHuuhing, big time.

Alas I didn’t miss Russell loosing his strides during the process. Down they fell in a slow motioned swoosh. That man was hopping backwards, trying to get a hold of his ever increasing nakedness and embarrassment. I think when I started cheering it didn’t help his embarrassment factor any. The LFB said his face was beet red and he didn‘t acknowledge us up on the porch for a good hour after the de-striding.

Fuck how I laughed.

I adore these people.

Well would you look at what the cat drug in!

2007-06-06T13:00:00.000-04:00

Oi.

*waves*

Over here.

Look it’s meeee Bitches!!

Finally I come back to haunt and stalk some of you lucky lucky buggers again…Yes. I know yers realise that yer’s are indeed being mightily blessed here. No naysayer’s need comment.

Although I must say this bastard internet provider sucks bigger dog balls than the effing provider I had over in Australia. That’s funny that uh.

No. I don’t really think it’s like ha bloody haha funny. Funny as in Dammit I’m in Amerikah now and I’m so not meant to be punked by the speed of a slow bastid internet connection.

All I can say is, they are very fortunate that I now have enough stooff to fill my days with. Or I could be really pissy, ring them and threaten to hang my bad foot up their arse for having such crappy service.

Heh. I love that saying. Cracks me up. I’ve adopted it when speaking to either ThePoodle or the LittleFatBastid. “Yeaah, you better get on and hurry up doing *insert whatever action here* before I hang my bad foot in yer arse”. Neither, ThePoodle nor the rest of TheFamily know if I’m joking or not.

Ahh the uncertainty in others. I like that.

Speaking of the Little Fat One, he’s just three feet away from me [*edit…well he was when I wrote this eight hours ago] snoring merrily, I say merrily because at the mo, this snorings a good thing; it’s masking my typing sounds. Hee. He has a big day of painting ahead of him in a few hours time. Nope, he hasn’t got a Honey Do list from either me or his mom. Tho it could be classed as a Honey Do, it’s a chore for his friend, ThePreacher.

Because ~~Baybee~~ The church needs a new ~~pair of shoooes~~ coat of paint and the Little Fat One got sucked into helping. Which I, obviously, was waay too clever to get caught up in that little joy filled caper. I waited to see how many of the actual JesusJockeys volunteered before I stuck my mitt up. See, I ain’t no John the Baptist came lately, the thing is to sit back and wait for others to step forward first. Eventually there were enough Picasso’s. Frankly, I don’t reckon the hallowed walls may have handled the two of us. Now that it’s mid morning. I know he went up there with a good working buzz on. Heh.

Enough about that and mooore about meeee.

Soo, I’m good.

Yourselves?

I have so much shit to blog about but alas not always the time…So maybe I will go to point form. Uh huh.

. Lyn the eight toed slut who lives next door has not once ventured over here in person. Apparently she is concerned I might bop her in the snout. Which cracks me up. I mean c’mon now, how old are we, bloody ten. Silly old copulating cow. She thinks I “care” that she has flashed her tits and talked inappropriately [heh heh at inappropriately] at my husband. Little do she know, that I figure if the Fat One ever went and hit that, welll his standards are way much lower than I suspected Plus he couldn’t Do the digitally challenged, creeps him out. So help me Bubbha if I ever lose a finger or toe.

. My mother in law had all of her teeth pulled just two weeks before I arrived. She always cackled like a witch when she laughed, now she has the gumminess to match. Thankfully she hasn’t the nastiness to match, I lucked out in the Mom stakes, but I knew that before I married her son. You should Always check out the mother.

. My father in law. Hmm. Well, my father in law is just a one of a kind. He’s mostly deaf…he more lip reads; which was a problem when my mom in law first got her teeth out, changed the way her lips fell when she talked…not too bright but strong as an ox, basically just downright funny to watch. He has a habit of making a certain noise when he is confused, it’s a crossbreeding of the words What and Huh and then mixed in is the puzzled noise. I’ve heard it so often, that now I am unintentionally mimicking him. I walked in the door last night, picked up an unfamiliar object off the table and did his WhaHuuh…then three seconds later when I realised who I sounded like started laughing like a banshee.

Oh well, that’s enough for you lot now.

Ciao bellaahs.

In nine more days.

2007-05-06T09:32:00.000-04:00

Life will not be as I know it. Jim.

The only "thing" that will be similar to what I am familiar with will be...well, me really.

Well familiar in most ways; I am considering getting a complete change of hairstyle. On both my head and nether region. Arhaaha. But lets just talk about the head end. I am throwing up whether to git myself a female mullet.

No seriously.

I *know* I would drive the LittleFatBastid just wild with a mullet.

Oh I snorted when I cackled then.

Now. I think I have to stop listening to this seventies compilation CD.

Maybe after this run through of it.

If I didn’t think it was “wrong” to burn this CD therefore ripping off the artists in their royalties I‘d get my son to copy this...yes, alright, okay it’s more I think if Customs were to go through my stuff they might not see this as being a good thing for me to have.

I discovered some mersyndol in my SIL’s bathroom cabinet. So I took 2. I have nothing but fond memories of mersyndol.

I can NOT believe how good a dancer I am.

No truly.

One day if yer really lucky I might get the LittleFatOne to join me in putting on a dance routine for you guys. Fucken Torville and Dean have nothun on our boogieing arses. Arhaaha how many of youse went huh, weren’t they bloody ice-skaters?

If you did, well yes, you’d be correct.

Oh and. Yes, you can stop pointing and laughing at the slow fat kid stuck on dial up now. You can quit it, because I have upped my speed by an arse crackling 20Kbps. AHA! How did I do this you may well ask. Just in case none of you wankers ask, I will tell yers. I am camped out at my brothers place, while he, his wife and the two littlest heathens are in Sydney. It's a wee bit faster in town than what it is stuck out in the sticks.

So here I am tra la lahing all over the blogosphere.

Wooty, woot woot.

Normally.

2007-04-30T04:54:00.000-04:00

I would never apologise for not getting around to your blogs because I’m usually pretty good concerning visiting you bastids out there. Heh.

But alas I have fallen prey to the speed of my internet connection, so am spending a fair bit of time elsewhere...Forgive Me Bubbha...but I have been once again drawn to the simplistic ease of blogging.

Some will know where I refer to. Those that don’t. It don’t matter.

I will add it’s half you bastids fault BTW.

Arhaahaa...People yer killing me here; with the graphics and extra pretty shit on yer blogs.

I’m pretty patient but I ain’t THAT freaking patient.

I’m a wee bit ashamed [not really, but it sounds bloody humble] to say it gets to be a case of fuck yers I’m outta ere, before you are downloaded.

I know, I know, not pretty but there you have it.

I will *ahem* note that every now and again at least a few of you’s are blessed with a comment.

That’s after I remember that I can’t comment without logging into google [I ALWAYS type fucking goggle first...then look at it and think hmmm that not be right] or whatEVER that is.

So I head over and start the laborious process of actually logging into Blogger.

Am I there yet?

Oh lookout we have lift-off.

See you’s soon.

Even if it is only fleetingly.

Those with stat counters may smell me...you'll be aware I was there, Bitches.

Sometimes I think I must be a fickle piece.

2007-04-25T00:42:00.000-04:00

Oh well it happens.

I have made a holding booking for May 16th. Woot. Moving along nicely. Although I am delaying my next go at the ‘sorting’ out of my stuff.

Being a Libran it’s not the most blessed experience...decisions, decisions.

Luckily, over the years I have been gaining less and less stuff uh.

Use yer imagination.

2007-04-20T23:30:00.000-04:00

And picture a fat, unfit bitch doing cartwheels and know that it is me.

Yesterday was my last day of training my replacement. Nearly got a full two weeks pay for one week. Yay me. Replacement will work out alright, she has enthusiasm and fresh ideas. Granted she’ll NEVER be another me...but then how could she be uh. Arhaaha.

Shew aye.

I’m finished with that stage in my life.

Stepping into my next.

Coolbeans.

I feed off people.

2007-04-11T05:02:00.000-04:00

Not in a bad “I eat up yer misery” way; or bludgy “I’ll eat all yer food and smoke all yer smokes” way; or actually eat you in a “yum, yum” cannibalistic way...yes, I know none of yers woulda thought THAT, but I still had to make sure.

I feed off their happiness and laughter.

The other night, my sister, when looking down upon my ex-neighbours [now my brothers neighbour] garden; all lit up with fairy lights etc. Suggested that we could go down and bust out some of these said lights to spell out a word fer the homeowner ~~Christa~~ Blista. Haha so named because she is a fetid pus filled watery corpuscle on the Earths surface.

Then we decided that with the use of her soon-to-be ripped out of the ground archway as the C, a few smashed lights here and there for the U and N. Then if we both stood side to side with one arm slung around each others necks, our other arm outstretched in the opposite direction...we could tell her exactly what we know she is.

give US a C...give US a U

I know that sounds harsh, but really she is the Queen of Cuntessa's.

A small idea why she was raised to queenly status.

Over a year back she was starting to become a somewhat regular with the medical transport service that I organise. I hated that she was eligible for it, I didn't think she "deserved" it. Alas personal opinions can't come between what is eligible and ineligible in government funded country services now, can they. And nor did it, when I arranged a volunteer to drive their own vehicle because the work car was busy elsewhere, to take her to her appointment up over the border.

The morning before said appointment. I rang that fucking miserable cow to inform her of her pick-up time and who her driver would be. She wasn’t home. Nor was she home on the next eight phone calls. I swear she is too fucking miserly to get Telstra’s FREE messaging service put on. Personally I think that’s just so people have to continually chase her Fucking Selfish Hog Arse down.

So around lunchtime I rocked on around to her home and left a note staple gunned to her door. Heh. Yeah, I wish I used a staple gun, think it was more attached by BluTack.

Ten minutes later she rings back to tell me that I have the day wrong, it’s not tomorrow but Wednesday next week. I politely disagree. She then says “Yes, remember, I came around to the office three weeks ago and you were sitting out the front with Ditzy smoking...[see that dig]...I told you the date and time then of my appointment”.

Now, you realise that I disliked this woman before this right.

So my next string of words were softer and more clipped.

“Yes I distinctly remember where I was thank you Blista...[I didn’t add, because when I saw you parking out the front I said to Ditzy, aw fuck not this piece of crapbitch again]...I also remember the day and date you informed me of; that day is tomorrow at 11am.”

She continues protesting the fact.

We end the call thinking we each were right and the other was wrong.

I cancel the volunteer and their car.

That night it started to bug me.

The next day at 10 minutes past her appointment time I rang the doctors surgery and asked the receptionist if a Mrs Blista Earths-Blight had an appointment for today.

“Yes. Well she did, but yesterday afternoon around 2pm she rang here and cancelled it and rebooked for the following week”. Turns out, she had got the receptionist slightly peeved, trying to tell her [the receptionist] that they must have got it wrong, as she had made it for the following week.

Did I ring her and tell her that I knew what she had done. Nope. Was enough that I knew it. Although, I did wait to see what she would do next. Wondering if she would ring to rebook the work car while accepting and apologising for her error. Which I would have graciously accepted. By the end of the working week I hadn’t heard hide or hair of her.

I haven’t had to arrange transport for her since.

Funny that.

It’s so simple to say “okay I stuffed up” then it’s bygones. But nooo instead she chose to cover it up. Deceitful slut.

Yer know I think I’m really funny in comments.

2007-04-07T23:32:00.000-04:00

What do you think? Arhaaha. Okay, I’m arhaaha-ing because...c’mon seriously do you think someone like moi cares what you think. Ha! I repeat. HA!...Of course I do.

So while I have yer limited attention/comprehension span.

I am so not an attention seeker/name dropper, right. No. Really. I'm not. Aww hell I never had a 21st or a "wedding" because it really would have been ALL about me; plus dammit people would look at me; something I could never understand a person wanting to happen to themself. Now as I age gracefully [HehHeh] I kinda realise it's really for them, gives those other people a reason to pay homage to me like.

Haha. Fuck! I crack me up at times...ar ar.

But, sincerely I do feel this momentous occasion of my near immigration; possible death. I am bloody flying okay, lets not forget that. I could die with my grown back hymen. That would not be the best of fun. Anyway, as I was saying; with your nearness to my greatness; if indeed you are American...[keep reading...it'll all be about You soon]...I feel the time at hand warrants Me telling a whole bunch of yers exactly what I think of YOU.

May take me a few days to do this. Bear/Bare with me waankers.

Reckon I'll start with some "old" crew...heh...crew. Fuck I'm all TOPS! and cool with the words and shit. Sometimes I truly believe that in the land of milk and honey I could be someone of great importance or a cult leader at least. Similar thing huh. Both can lead a cow to murder...arhaaha.

I guess JackieSue you can think of this as my "thinking blogger" tag award...kinda.

So speaking of, well speaking of well You really. Yer a funny piece. So you can be first off the block. Your ability to spin a yarn excites me lots. Not in Lesbian like excitement. Only because I wouldn't want you to spoil yer record of what was it?? 22 years without SEX. I think in our younger days we may have had virgin lesbo sex. But you would have had to have made the first move. Ut Oh. I expect a contact number from your "big boobies" arse. very. soon.

The man that won me with his hat. Soon as I saw a particular hat I knew this dude and his dog were my kinda people. You make me bark out loud cackles. Heaps. Your never-ending humour in/at life is your most powerful allure. Needless to say, The Ruby Dawg is one arse-smoking bitch. If I was a boy daawg I'd certainly do her. It intrigues me, if the missus is exactly as you portray her.

These two I have to lump together.. I'm sure they won't mind that at all. They will always have my undying adoration. I reckon they may know why. And if they don't, well hell and tarnation that's okay too. Can do NO wrong where I'm concerned. They are both TOPS! I would hope they knew that. If not, they may know now.

Again a twin linkage. You both make me think what it's like on the other side of the fence...haha so true, so to speak. One of you's I made mates with early bloody on and right damn quick; sometimes a friendship is like that. Nice one tah moi. The other, I really wanted to make advances of friendship towards BUT the bitch was playing harder to "get". Still to this day I check that I'm on yer small but cosy buddy list. Dunno why, exactly. Heh. I know I *should* always be there...*cough*

These Two...I didn't really appreciate exactly how they are until once here, outside the confines of somewhere else. I can honestly say I am happy fer yer persecution/personal exodus. One makes me go ohh arhaaha damn he's bloody quick and clever like; the other makes me go arhaaha oh yer such a dag and I likes you all the more for it. Although, I am not ashamed to say both can sometimes be too deep for this little black duck.

What can I say about my very first Native. Native American that is. Too cool for words. Although I wish he would talk more about his-self or his little bespectacled buddy. His dog Bob [always makes me giggle saying Bob; you have to do it in a mr bean imitation] is vying for my affections...but please don't tell Ruby Dawg.

Alright, well Fuck that took me aages to do them bloody links.

Better appreciate my time and effort bitches.

Love, Kisses and EasterBunnyHugs.

We Shall Remember Her!

2007-04-06T22:49:00.000-04:00

Lest they forget just how good, special and clever I am.

Behold My Le Grandeur!

The old tarts last craft project with me will be..."Chair Tags"...taadaah.

[ZeeClickItBitch]
Gunna velcro dot them to the back of their dining chairs...

Will cut down on the grumbling when a newbie sits in a regular's chair.

Will help the new coordinator learn the old tarts names...they like it when they're called by their name. Guess it helps them to remember WhoTheFuck they, themselves are.

Will assist new volunteers or more so help that stupid [with a capital S] volunteer that I dislike with a passion because she's a greedy selfish bushpig cuntessa *finger typing rest* remember where to stick their cups of tea or coffee when their bums aren't in their chairs.

~~Still undecided whether to stick my name on this show and tell one or~~ one of our ex-tarts [she moved away]...I plan to velcro it up on a cupboard door...just so them bitches don't forget me.

I was gunna put a sign up [may still] above it..."Those Dearly Departed"...and when a "chair tag" is no longer required it can be immortalised here on the dearly departed door also. But beings they are nearly all one footstep out of Gawd's Waiting Room, maybe they wouldn't appreciate the reminder.

Hmm.

Fuck that, I reckon I may still do it.

Ye Olde Bitches must be remembering me.

Did I mention my Hillbillie mother-in-law wants to get me on at the nursing home she works at?

Ol' McShanon had a bleeding farm.

2007-04-02T07:09:00.000-04:00

E I E I Ohhh.

Well, I know of one not too bright like animal waking up with a sore noggun tomorrow. Nope, not bloody me. Yer pack of cheeky bleeding sods. But a wee kangaroo, well not really wee, more medium sized it was. Well medium til it ran head first into my fucking car and pushed its neck down into it's shoulder blades, it lost a few inches doing that...Stoopid kangaroo.

Soon as I heard the bouff noise it made against the car, I thought..."Hmmm, well that's gotta bloody hurt". When I looked in the rear vision mirror it was plonked in the middle of the road trying to shake it off. Almost like they do in the cartoons. But instead of little yellow birds spinning dizzily around the cartoon roo's head, they were bloody blowflies. Eventually it got up and hopped on it's way.

It left a nice sized dent in the passenger door. But that's alright, it weren't my car. Arhaaha. I was driving my mum's. Going by the dents in it, it's had it's fair share of kangaroo kisses so I don't feel bad about it happening whilst I was driving it.

The local birds are under the impression that I run a soup kitchen for them. It's more like a bloody restaurant really. Their menu consists of seed, crushed up stale bread, dognuts and diced dogroll, all that, plus a pan of fresh water. I've got finches and wrens, magpies and kookaburras. The other day I realised that I'm aiding a disabled magpie. It has a club foot.

Today, while I was dicing up the dogroll, it came closer to me, I carried on what I was doing, pretending to ignore it but started talking to it, as you do. It seemed to be enjoying my conversation as it did this scrabble, clump hop to get closer still. Then again that might have been because it was bloody hungry. I hadn't opened the kitchen fer a few days, don't want them getting complacent and needy now, do I. Anyway, me talking, it getting closer; when it got to within a foot of me I swung around going boogerwoogerblerblah and scared the absolute kerrap out of it. Fuck I laughed. Aww maggie come back I was only playing...It did.

Had to go help me trusty volunteer Mardge, she rang me on Friday, she wanted and valued my opinion...her words, and she doesn't lie. heh...on deciding who to give an interview to, out of the eight applicants for my job. We arranged to meet Sunday after lunch. Was all hush hush like, because it's a breach of confidentiality; me seeing the resumes when I'm not on the interview panel blah blah, not important, blah.

Wasn't til I was driving in that I thought of her freaking dog Lily. It's one of those little ankle biter yappy dogs, one with a little dog complex. It comes flying and I mean flying up the path, all snappy and snarly as if it's gunna take me down at the knees. Usually when it gets to within centimetres of my legs, it then hovers a few inches off the ground, because of the gusto in which it's barking and carrying on.

Doesn't matter how often I've been there, it's always the same reaction, I don't feel bad because everyone gets the same reception from it. But, one day it's gunna put the wind up me enough, that I will instinctively lash out and dropkick it when it starts to levitate. I just hope if that ever does happen, Marge isn't home to hear her wee little dawg go boot...yarooh...splat.

Ew. Back to the Old Scrubbers tomorrow. I'm dealing with a regular twelve of the beastly things now. You would think, after three and a half years of running the Day Care I would have managed to cull a few of them out. Not to be, they've only mutated in attendance. Although it is with quiet pride I say, not one of the old beggars has carked it on me.

Arhaaaah!

2007-03-28T23:24:00.000-04:00

I'm IN...I'm IN...I'm IN.

Received approval Tuesday.

yeehaah...gunna be gitting meself some of that thair LittleFatBastid Hillbillie sex soon...uh huh.

Now, I dunno if its all this communing with nature bizo around me.

2007-03-25T20:29:00.000-04:00

But I know I could live this life here at my Oldies place very bloody easily.

Pushing aside the thought of claiming Squatters Rights. Although I DO have the means to defend them...the keys to the FOG plus the key to the gun cabinet.

I think I will continue my stealth like worming into my parents good books. After all, I am someway there with the "Number 1 and Favourite Daughter" email tags. I've made up the ground I lost by introducing them to my husband the LittleFatBastid.

Heh...*cackle*

Who often makes the remark "yeah well just don't get too bloody comfortable there okay" when I tell him about my intense like for it here.

Silly Hillbillie.

As if I could not continue on with our marriage.

I believe the insurance money will convert into nice Aussie dollars when the time comes. Now I just have to get him all insured up.

And purchase some fine Kentucky land.

Heavily treed it must be.

I'll be like the Easter bunny, only my better hidden eggs will be body parts that I let the dawgs chew up.

Maybe I should get some pigs, then my threat of "yeah well, I'd feed you to tha piiigs" would be more of a concern for him.

If the LFB didn't *think* he knew me better, I know he'd be more worried.

*sigh*...Is this another instalment of the burdensome cross I must carry?!?...my goodness to my fellow man.

I had to go vote today.

2007-03-24T05:53:00.000-04:00

I wasn't reaally keen on having to get ready and go into town to do so but beings as I wouldn't be reaally keen on paying the fine for not doing so. I got my arse into gear and went in there. Well eventually I got in there. No sooner had I got to the bitumen road when I had to turn around and head back up the track to the house, herding those mongrel dogs before me. Bastid things followed me. Luckily I was stopped, trying to find where the volume was on the cd player. When I heard these scuffling like sounds behind me and then two bloody dawgs came shooting down the track, past my prone car and onto the road. All Happy as Larry with themselves.

Dunno if the election officials thought I was pulling a swifty because when I said my name, they couldn't find it on the roll. Naturally I thought they were just being stupid, after all, it was the school principal and his wife doing the looking. Beings I don't particularly like him much, I was thinking he was just proving it. His stupidness.

When arhaaha I asked them to look under my married name. And there I was. Stupid married name...causes me nothun but strife.

The Mrs gave me a dirty look when she explained my options on the 3ft list of candidates. I could either put a 1 in the top part or put 1 through to 15 on the bottom part. As she said that, I laughed and said "Yeah riiight, like that's gunna happen"...that's when she shot me the look. But really she shouldn't be giving me none of them looks, I mean she's getting paid to sit there and take those type of comments.

I refrained from writing on my ballot paper bad things about her. Like...Mrs Wife of the Principal sucks fat ugly stupid balding men off. The fat ugly stupid balding man being her husband.

I have come to the conclusion that the cross that I must carry in life is my friendly and engaging personality.

There's a whole lotta dobbing going on!

2007-03-22T10:26:00.000-04:00

We had another local PotHead busted for growing a few plants for personal use. Once again they were dobbed in by a vindictive dobbing arsehole bitch.

Funny, that the dobber BCB and her FSH made their money to buy their house in this town by the sale of their own cultivations in another town. How's their fucken form aye? See, they moved here hoping that their previous reputation wouldn't follow them. Stupid people. Ve vill find zee out EVERYZING in zee small town...and if we don't find it all out, we will ad-lib. Heh. But "apparently" not in this case.

Also funny, that the BCB went around to the dobbee's Mum's place in an attempt to explain herself and her actions. My sister and I agreed she'd be saying "I only did it fer the sake of the kiddies". Which would be fair enough if the kiddies seemed underfed, beaten or neglected. They aren't. They seem stupid, but hell my sister and I figure that's just from their mothers gene's. She's a bit dense. But...Nope BCB done it to be a vindictive nasty piece of piss. That's just how they roll. And believe me they'd have to roll, weight gains run in that thair family.

And perhaps the BCB should consider sticking her fat nose in her own flesh and bloods home. I mean that grandkid of hers is being fed to death by the look of him. He's a little porker. Unhealthily so.

Elation was dobbed in by the family of one of the towns Old Girls. Dunno if it was warranted or not as the dobbing family are well known for their antics. Has been said, that the son has hated Elation for a long arsed while. Wonder if he knows she fingers herself...maybe if he did he'd have been happy that Elation hadn't been down to check on his Mum. She might have ended up in a worse boat than what she did. Dunno.

What I do know is.

I wasn't gunna let Elation do her "snivelling/please hold me" act on my bloody shoulder. Ouff that makes me dry retch just thinking about her doing that. But I think I cut the chances down of her doing so when I replied "Shut up, sit down and just drink yer fucken coffee" when she started on the "dramatics". Mind you, when I said that I didn't know what her latest problem was.

Kinda glad that I was unaware, as I probably wouldn't have said it.

I like it when I am not required to censor myself......heeheehee.

I'm a potential DogKiller.

2007-03-20T06:14:00.000-04:00

I just know I am.

We receive mail out here on this road twice a week. In town it gets delivered five days a week. Yep no bloody mailman come rain or bloody shine is happening every day here in Australia by boyoh...Really. I always thought that was a Yank myth til I lived there.

Anyway, Friday gone I decided I would trot on down to get it AND that I would let the Dawgs accompany me. They'd like that. Yes, Yes it was really so that the possible snake/emu/goanna might be alerted by them and either slither/run on away or bite them first.

So we get to just past the second gate.

What I like to call the "Fuck Off Gate" as it has the heavier chains and bigger padlocks on it.

When we flushed out a bloody rabbit.

It took off, with Chilli in close bloody pursuit. All I kept glimpsing was this flash of red zigzagging through the heavy scrub area...going round and back and this way and that. I of course did attempt to call her back but then thought...well fuck that's pretty bloody useless doing that. So instead I stood there and thought...Daamn, the Oldies piss off and I lose one of their friggun daawgs. Oh good on me.

Eventually I just continue on to the mailbox.

When I was most of the way there, Chilli came flying down the track after me, looking all happy and shit with herself. Her and that puppy mutt would run on ahead. Sniffing. Stopping. Detouring. Running. Stopping. Sniffing. Running. Detouring.

Then, Hmm I'm thinking bet these dawgs never go nor are allowed past the FIRST gate.

When Hark as I'm thinking that; I do hear a mighty big truck a coming down the bitumen road out front.

Oh Fuck!...

Simultaneously trying to grab at the puppy mutt while frantically calling Chilli off the road that I can now see her proudly standing upon...Yeah we know none of that worked, right.

Trucks getting LOUDER. Closer.

Me thinking all sorts of bloody things...

Oh THAT'S right. NOW I get the Oldies Dogs KILLED and splattered by a bloody Big Semi.
Do I run out and try and bloody stop the truck?...nooo it's on a bit of a bend, might make him run off the road, me suddenly appearing in his way.
Do I just hope fer the bloody best and try not to hear the thud? At least I won't hear the screech before the thud. No semi is gunna try and avoid a piddly animal.

I don't know why but I turned and started to head back on up to the house. Calling them both, hoping the buggers would follow me.

I can't tell you how bloody relieved I was when a red then a blue cattle dog shot past me.

Next time.

Fuck that walking down caper. I'm driving.

Living the Good Life!

2007-03-18T21:22:00.000-04:00

You would think after doing this on and off for the better part of the day......that I wouldn't be much good fer nuthun huh.

How fucken WRONG yers are. I tell you, I worked my skinny hairy fingers to the fricken bone.

Non-stop, well not counting the bong-stop-and-sits I was non-stop.

My mother is going to come home to a top to toe sparkling clean house. Thought that would be my parting gift to her. Her fridge was growing stuff. Funny not once did I get the dry heaves and I touched the "living stuff" with bare hands. Look at me, playing at being all grown up!

My father is gunna get his *insert name of property here* sign repainted. I did it the first time round; just have to get some orange paint and practice my sign-writing skills. Think I'll do a different script this time. If he’s lucky I will do another “Beware of...” warning signs at his gate into the compound too, beings that my original one is faded to the shithouse.

Hopefully they will both come home to the ownership of two dogs. But I'm not liking their chances if that VaMi mutt doesn't quit ripping shit up. "Yeaah I've got the nearest Chinese restaurant on speed DIE-al you little prick of a dog" is what I yell from the veranda at it. Little bastard thing ignores me and carries on with what it’s doing. I found one of my foot thongs down in the yard this morning. Took me a few goes to rescue it. I can see this is part ii in my life, with having to outwit/outsmart/out survive someone else’s fucken dog...yes, the omittance of outplay was intentional.

I believe I will once again be svelte. Just going by the amount of times I have to get up and go down and around the triathlon course and mess with the water-tanks pump a day. Fucker. Couple of times I’ve thought it has HAD it...only to have it kick in on my third or fourth go at it. I know my cursing scares it into starting, eventually.

I love this little dude!

I’ve named him Lyzard Un-Skynnered. First saw him near the compound gate then yesterday noticed him atop Wood-Henge doing his “If I stay verry, very still...ha! she’ll think I’m just part of the furniture”.

I bet yer didn't know...

2007-03-17T18:57:00.000-04:00

...that I should kick my brother in the cods for giving me one of his homemade bongs. One that he usually hides in the laundry detergent part of his cupboard. Yeacch OMO taste.

...that I like to stir up VaMi when she is outside the laundry door. She goes all schizo crazy; like happy schizo crazy. All I have to do is tell her she's "a kerrazzy daaaawg...crayzeee...CRAZY!" She gets all goofy and shit, tail thumping, turning in constant circles, shaking her bits grinning in at me...then I go into the lounge room and ignore her for a while. heh.

...I would never have a "self-composting" toilet. Truly. That thing needs some sort of bloody air freshener with it. Not mentioning the vinegar flies that like to hang around it... “Hey Mum, how often are you having to dig them flies outta yer butt?”. Or the cool updraft that goes up my slightly spread nethers when I have used it...Guess that beats having to do a handstand underneath the hand-dryer tho. I think my bloody father was supposed to change the giant crap container. As I can see the poo in it. My parents the water conservatives and potential Greenies had this fancy fandangled dry drop put in their house when they had it built. I do wonder if they regret it.

Looks like any other toilet huh...

...that my father must believe me to be his home secretary/dogsbody now.

His emails start with "Hello favourite daughter" or "Hello number 1 daughter" and ends with "Can you...blah...blaaah..."

My replies back usually start with..."Okay you're starting to annoy me now" and end with "You people need to stop asking me to do stuff".

...that sometimes I pick my nose and then wipe it on the nearest old person.

Arhaaha. No I don’t but damn that cracked my fat arse up typing it.

...that I “lost” the area that I last threw the Chilli-Dawgs fetch toy. Stoopid dog turned it’s head away when I threw it the last time. And fucked if I can remember where I was in the yard when I threw it. Which really shits me. The not remembering part. Not much is funnier [at the moment] than watching this dog take a flying leap into the bush that I had just thrown it’s toy into. You’d just see this burrowing hairy arse hanging out of the shaking bush.

Now if I had that throw toy I'd do the bush toss and snap a photo of Chilli's arse for all you dog ~~perverts~~ lovers out there but since we know how that is, this one will have to do.

...if I could sing I would like a voice like Taylor Danes. If I ever come back as a lesbian I'd jump her bones.

...that youse really wanted to know all this.

Sometimes I am just too bloody open and sharing...I need to stop that.

Heaar Yeee, Hear YE.

2007-03-15T20:17:00.000-04:00

I am now ensconced in my parents heavenly treed and rocked property. I am Lord and Queen of all that I see.

But I've decided to still retain my common touch.

I am alpha bitch in the canine department; dog feeder, thrower of various balls and chief dog ~~whisperer~~ yeller...mainly when the beastly things take turns in sneaking in a long lick up the back of my legs or stepping on the back of my thong forcing me to a sudden halt, which in turn makes them collide with me, with their hanging out tongues. By the end of my reign here they will both know the meaning of the word "GAAAHH!!".

I have five...yes that's right FIVE tv channels to choose from. I need to buy a tv guide. I forget what's on the two channels I couldn't get before.

I have discovered that my mother is a serial purchaser. None of that buying in piddly amounts it's serious bulk buying all the way dudes. Fer instance I just counted 120 rolls of toilet paper out in the laundry cupboard. While exploring her walk in pantry I came across her tub of dried fruit. Mmmm dried apricots, loike fucking yum. Bleech dates. Mmmm dried plums. I ate 21 of them, yes I counted the seeds, before I thought, hmmm hold on don't you eat prunes to help yer do poo's? A couple of hours later I found that to be true. You do. By the time I have eaten my way through her dried fruit tub I will re-count those loo rolls.

Being out here, isolated can be a wee bit funny like at night. I of course keep hearing "noises". Won't stop me from sleeping tho. I figure if something were to happen it was meant too. Not like I'm gunna go and lock the doors...well not ALL of them. Just the one's closest to my bedroom. Arhaaha figure it might give me a fighting chance against the "something".

Now. YOU get to *shout*...“Eeeek RUN Apos!! Ruuuun!” at yer monitor.

And a good time was had by all.

2007-03-13T06:31:00.000-04:00

Sooomewhere ovaaah the ~~raaainbow~~ Sydney Harbour Bridge in a train is where I found myself Monday just gone, at eight-thirty in the morning. What were you slack bastids doing when I was making my way with my trusty mate Sooes acting as prime navigator [she did a simply faaabulous job too!] down to my immigration appointment at the US Consulate? Huh.

Bet yers were all just having blasted fun and frolics weren't yers?!?

So woooo look at me, nearly done with all this fuddycruddy stuff.

Although I must say, this latest "hoop" was the easiest. Nothing really went wrong. Was like I was being "rewarded" for my, my, well my goodness. Arhaaha. Oh lookout. I snorted when I laughed then. But really I was nudged along very nicely. From the bag x-raying security dude at the first checkpoint who noticed I was sitting in the wrong spot "Maam...you can go to the front row of seats, with those three" and then noticed me still sitting in this row when the other three were trotting off leaving the room for the guarded elevator ride up to the next floor "Maam...you can go with those people now".

The lady security guard who along with the male security guard enjoyed my "victory arms" being raised and waved about when I made a success of walking through the metal detector on my third attempt. Bloody belt buckle and my watch. You'd think I'd know to take that stuff off huh. Next time I will write them on my hand under the "remove" heading.

The pretty young clerk at window number 3 [Hawaiian I think] that dealt with my paperwork...which must have been in order as she didn't send me to the back of the line. Bless her...was very bloody nice and helpful. I was so glad my ticket wasn't called by the loud cow at window number 1. She insisted on having her windows loud-speaker turned on.

Everybody could hear yer business being repeated back at you.

Fer instance I now know that ticket holder number eight is a divorcee with a four year old daughter; a girl living in NY and that she'd just flown back to Sydney last night to get this sorted. She was getting slightly stroppy but calmed down a level when loud cow informed her and us that she was there to assist her blah blah. The ticketed number ten's have a daughter whose name is Scarlet. They came in to pick up a "transportation" letter so she could enter the country of her parents birth. They were getting a bit pissy because Mary who had emailed them to do this, couldn't remember emailing them in the first place. No, the ten's didn't have the printed emails on them. And the Hispanic lady at window number 5...[this clerk also made use of his loudspeaker but wasn't nearly as loud as number 1 cow; he had a very nice voice...shame about his face tho]...was deported in 2006. Not sure who did this deportation, if it was us, well we didn't do a very bloody good job of it did we uh...she's still here. Or maybe she snuck back over. Dunno.

The bloke that "interviewed" me was a bloody big spunk. Whoever gave birth to him should be rewarded. Now, whoever you are, can you make me one that's at least 20 years older. Thanks. I was index finger printed and asked a few questions and then I had to hold up my right hand and solemnly swear that all the details provided by me were true and correct. And then sign the document.

Luckily I uncrossed my left fingers before I bought that hand up to hold the paper while I did just that huh.

Smootch My Snootch! [#2]

2007-03-07T06:09:00.000-05:00

Much gratitude for handing over the pee jar so quickly the other ~~day~~ week. I mean you could have held me there with that all important task of getting a persons details and particulars for those pesky forms that just won't wait to be filled out. Oh wait on a minute, that's what you did do. I dunno, maybe here's a clue for yers the next time. If the person in front of you looks like they are swaying from side to side and bobbing up and down. There's a bloody good chance that person is not, I repeat, not, reliving their grooving moves at their first school social. Yes, I knoow they are stepping from foot to foot, but just like a little heathen, it usually means they have reaally. got. to. bloodywell. goooo.

Taah fer doing yer utmost best to clear my lungs of all their muck by exploding the shrivelled old pair of buggers. I mean if it weren't for you both, I would have only walked up and then down that mighty steep hill, the once. But no, both of you's must have thought. By jove, now here's a person that needs to lose some of their wobbly bits. Hence the forgetting to give me my form for the pathologist to sign. I knoow youse didn't realise that I do so hate to stagger up the same hill twice.

Yes, Thanks again to the pair of you's for making me pass that special person selling those special pens, not once, but twice. Fer crying out loud she was special, I had to buy two of them bloody rip off pens. They are fine points, I don't like that in a pen. And black ink as well. Blerhh. If I didn't have to walk up that second time I may just have missed out on being hounded by that partially deaf person shouting at me for a donation. Wheezing out "Bugger Off! I gave last time" doesn't have the same effect as being able to hiss it out. Let alone having the energy to raise my hands high enough to thrust my ticket receipt under their pointy little nose, whilst stabbing them in their beady little eyes with my fine-point pens.

Oh and bless yer little cotton socks in yer ability to give the most excellent directions. But, perhaps telling your patients that the entry into the Posh Hotel's parking lot is on the other side of the block. Yes, you knooow, that parking lot that you can use yer smart looking stamp on, therefore validating the ticket where it only costs your patients five bucks.

I love you both! Yer's made me feel so good about being me. No truly, you both did. Not every day I get to see who I don't want to grow up to be like. The day I don't show my smiley lines is the day I become like you pair. Two bitter twisted up hags; matron hag and her younger hag in training.

Picture Me!

2007-03-04T01:05:00.000-05:00

Go’on...you know you wanna.

Yer only human.

In my slightly threadbare [in spots] shorty peejays...with Fido the spotted dog and aww he even has a black patch on his eye and his tongue sticks smilingly out...plus yellow stars plastered all over them.

With long white socks and runners on.

Why this ensemble at ~~11.30am~~ ~~12.25~~ 3.02 pm you may ask?

The runners are so I can do the Mexican hat dance upon any running away or worse still, running towards me spiders and bugs.

The socks are so that I may distinguish between the black hairy spiders running up my legs from my legs, for they are also appear to be black and hairy.

The peejays are so...well because I just wanna wear them, what’s it to YOU if I choose to remain in them. Huh. Punk. Arsed. Nosy. BiitcCH.

Oh how I love this packing and cleaning caper.

I know you wanna be ME.

I already said yer’s are only Human. Didn’t I?

*update* okay peejays are OFF.

NOW, picture me!

Ha!

Was it only yesterday that I was marvelling over myself?

2007-03-03T19:08:00.000-05:00

About just how un-nervous I'm actually being.

This time and day next week, I will be sitting in a car whining "are we theeeere yeett?" on our trek down to Sydney. The Good Dick will no doubt just turn up the radio to drown me out.

Tomorrow, this time next week I will be sitting in the US Consulates office. Waiting to be interviewed.

Three hours later I might still be sitting there. On account I fucked up in the "listed" order of my documents. Apparently, if my "stuff" is not in the sequence with the photocopies directly under it; I will be sent to the back of the line.

Egads, now there's something to get my self-diagnosed "checking" OCD out and about, whut.

That is, once I find the box that I packed that shit in. Hope my Dad unloaded it from his ute and NOT my Sister's Mother.

me: "Muuum, where's that smaller box, about yay big?" *holds hands out in height and width*
mum: "uhmmm...hmmm...ahh"
me: *slowly going into squinty eyes mode*
mum: "oh it's in the back bedroom, okay not there? try the other one, or maybe it's in the shed, yes, try the shed, I'm sure I put it in the shed"
me: *twitchy eye and monobrowed*

Every now and again I have one of those "Whoa" moments.

Was taking my reward of the blog reading/comment bombing thing when I stopped and thought...

"Oh WoW, this is the last time I'll be doing what I'm doing at this particular moment in this particular place."

Whooaah Dewde!

Okay, stop talking to me now.

I have a shitload to get done. I like it, when I have umpteen dozen choices of what to do next. No really, makes domestic labour all the more fun.

But really, I think I need more...erm, motivation.

Yeaaah.

I found the beginning of a straw whirly-gig hiding in my son's room, behind his door. Just waiting, waaiting to get more powerful. Or maybe it was just trapped in the spider webs that shared it's space. Dunno. But I busted up their little partnership with me trusty vacuum. This was after I busted the vacuum lose from its own web entrapment.

Bastid spiders.

I have the glory of a whopping big redback above my front outside door. I have been watching her progress over the weeks...there's about five fat white eggs hanging around with her. Dunno if I'll take them on with me trusty broom or just leave them be. After all it's outside. Not like I'll be here for their possible home invasion caper. Already drowned/burned one in an empty pot from outside. Death by ten year old Bluebell facial astringent. Wonder if it hurt.

Funny. I was placing some washing in the machine when a wee cutely curled up spider fell out of them onto the rim of the washer. I noticed it's accompanying lovely red abdomen slash. Thinking it was dead, my nose and beadies were about five centimetres away from it, getting a better look see. When it did an impressive backspin, whilst unfolding its legs, then it flipped itself right-side up into a rather large hideous bitey thing...Ugh *splat* with my washing detergent bottle.

Okay. Played with you's enough.

Back to it.

Now. Where was I up to.

Maybe more, whut moooore! motivation and a progress checklist is required. I mean, I’m already doing the rewards programme.

Heathens room = done, all bar the washing of his window.
Oven = done, ~~except for the top and outside cleaning of it,~~ ~~oh and putting everything back.~~
Bathroom = done, well withstanding that whole shower scrubbing, ~~bath vacuuming~~ ~~and a few other minor things gig.~~
My bedroom = done, all but the last minute pick-up and pack, vacuuming, rearranging and window washing.
Kitchen = don’t even talk to me about the rest of the kitchen...I just got the microwave platter clean.
Laundry = ~~oh buggerit, I have a laundry to be~~ done.
Toilet = ~~will soon be at the level of thy will be~~ done.
Lounge/Dining = oh haha you make me laugh. That’s the last part done.

~~Hmm maybe staying an extra night will be warranted. Hmmm.~~ Yes it was.

I think I’d like to be poked in my numbed fanny.

2007-03-02T09:21:00.000-05:00

Ninety nine percent of my worldly possessions have been dismantled and distributed amongst my heathen family. At least that's something I won't be concerned about upon my deathbed uh. My dad whined because he got a partially filled box, while my brother had a few more plus all my surviving inside plants. Luckily my sister had already collected her six plus boxes. It wasn't until I pointed out that he had my scanner in his possession, once again; and he'll be sharing all my good bickies and fun food that he quit his bellyaching.

Then he told me they weren't going away until Tuesday. WHUT??!...No! Tim bloody Tam bickies for him! That's bloody three nights and two days I'll have to put up with them pair out there. Unless he was joking, like he was about my bequest to him of that scanner, five bars of soap and the return of two of his police magazines. Heh I am so bloody “giving” I do amaze myself at times.

I’m positive my sister Lesley will adore the religious plaque that is in her last goodie box. It was a gift to me from Mamie, LFB‘s red-headed, stepsister who isn’t 100% right. Is it wrong to re-gift The Lord...“Oh How I Laughed, when I put this in here” was what I wrote on the fluoro sticker that I stuck to it.

So here I sit surveying only part of what I need to clean tomorrow. I Thank Bubbha that my medical is all over and done with. I clean so much better with a good buzz on. Maybe I better get a sooperbuzz happening. Got the whole place to clean and scrub so as to get my six week bond back. Five hundred and 80 bucks...yes thanks!

Asked The Good Dick about taking me to Sydney for my interview Monday after next coming. Still not completely sure how I’m ‘planning’ it yet. Either stay at our friends place about three hours out of Sydney and travel down by train. Or stay at our friends, have The Good Dick drive me to the western suburbs of Sydney and catch the train from there. My hopes did perk up when he thought that Martin Place [where the US Consulate is located] actually has a railway station[??]...something about the City-Circle railway line. I vaguely remember it but I always got off at Central, so dunno really.

Fuck just remembered, they have machines that do yer tickets now. Always so much simpler to say “a return to Central please” to the person behind the ticket window. I will be learning the new ways of train travel fast. Either learn damn quick or get trampled, pushed or stomped by the masses, whilst trying. Hope I don’t cause a pile-up at the electronic ticketed turnstiles. Oh well, least I won't be crushed to death with a full bladder.

Whoah this may all soon be over. Damn aye.

Well bugger, my leg is waking up. Hate those bloody pins and needles that you get. Although it mades me laugh when I’d lightly kick or poke The LFB in his leg, when he had them. You ever do that or have it done to you? Makes you feel all giggly and weak like while the numbness is wearing off.

Try it!

Go'on.

A picturesque post...Prepare yeself.

2007-03-01T21:22:00.000-05:00

Old man Emu. My mother told me to do something to make it move. So I yelled at it. Freaaked it the fuck out, started racing along the boundary fence with it's long neck stretched out trying to find a gap in it. Up, back, up back, repeat. I felt bad for stressing it out, then my Mum says I meant for you to wave yer hand because sometimes they'll come closer wondering what the movement is. I didn't think you were going to yell at it. Oops my bad.

Detailed instructions next time please Mother Mia!

*note to self* try rolling the window down all the way next time.

But does give a nice breaker from what's speeding by and what isn't.

Here's the proof that Elvis never left the bloody building, he's here making a living by being a fruitologist.

"Oi YOU stop lazing around in the sun. Yer just like a lizard flat out drinking".
Well yes, it was dead. That bloody Mia person tried to get me to put my sunglasses on it and then take the photo.

Yes funny. Now shut it and drive on Mia!

Coming back. Early, very bloody early morning.

Look it's the frigging Holy Tree!!

Can you see the shroud around the tree?...or do I have a cataract?

Whoa might be able to make a buck out of this. Wonder if I can chop it down and sell it on EBay.

Yeah! Happy 15th Birthday Heathen!

2007-02-27T23:34:00.000-05:00

What’s the bet that I see my heathen of a son straight after school today? I’ll be very bloody surprised if I don’t, as it’s his birthday today and he knows something was sent from The States. Bastid custom people stole my fucking BBQ porkskins again. Soon as I read the sticker saying they’d checked it out, I knew my porkskins would be gone. Nice to see they didn’t make a liar out of me.

Rat PorkSkin stealing bastids...A Pox on yer private bits!

Received a call from the Brisbane Doctors office yesterday. I passed my medical with flying bloody colours. My words not hers. Should have it all back to me by Friday. Phew. Now, just gotta wait on my Police Certificate. That’s right! I get a sir-tif-fee-cat. Lookout! I might be certified.

What? What do you mean it doesn’t allow me the right to strip-search people.

I was exceptionally busy today. I liked it. Liked it more when I got it all done. I even remembered to bring home some empty boxes, bubble-wrap AND the bloody shredder, waayhey me; a true...FIGJAM moment.

Now I just have to get it all out of my car before tomorrow.

I delivered two meals to a pair of new shut-ins today. Upon entering their home I had the disturbing thought of burying them out in their backyard and start living in their house with all their “stuff”. Beautiful old house with fabulous furniture. All heavy wood with black iron. I reckon I could take the old girl. Would just need to shut her up first...yack, squeal, bloody yack yack. Her husband, Creeping Jesus would be easier done. Why, I'd just point to the sky and wait, and wait, oh and wait a tad more, for him to look where my finger was pointing, then help him gently down into the freshly dug hole.

I am currently living in a shitfight. My flats a total mess. The pile of stuff for my sister is growing every couple of hours. I’m being super harsh with myself. Super. Although I do know I will be digging through two of those “packed” boxes, reclaiming some of the stuff in them.

Just until I really-really go.

The thought is still there in the back of my mind, that I could still get knocked back at the immigration interview. I hate interviews. I believe I have only ever had like three job interviews in my whole twenty plus years in my working life. Egads. Nothing like what they can be like today. And really this interview is most important. It’s the difference between marriage and divorce.

But really, how could they knock me back.

I’ll just have to remember to blind them with my innermost charm, poise and wit. Arhaa!

"Oookay, don't mess with me now, I'm Packing".

Wonder if they'd laugh or just grunt like the Doctor did when I told him "He had the hang of it now!". He'd been trying to work one of them roll-on white-out tape duvee's on the misspelling of my middle name. Luckily I have good reading comprehension skills, unlike his bloody snooty receptionist. I love those things, been using them fer like *pause* eons *eyeroll*. I stopped myself from taking it out of his hand and showing him just how it's bloody done. He became almost human like when my Mum entered his office to try and answer some of my medical history. She has that effect on most people. No, she wasn't much help in the questions. Heh.

Speaking of packing. Better pull the finger out and go do a few boxes.

Please tell me yer "playing" when you say you can't remember where you parked the car?!!

2007-02-26T21:12:00.000-05:00

Does anyone actually know how many underground car-parks are in Brisbane? Roughly the vicinity around Ann Street and the three street blocks below it. My Mum and I investigated as in walked all around them, in about ohh six of the bastid hot, smelly things. Yep, she couldn't remember where she parked the car. The little yellow disk she got when she parked was no fucking help in locating said car-park. It was blank of ANY identifying marks. I had no clue where she parked because I had to leap out of the car at a traffic light to make my appointment. Yes I nearly got skittled by a truck. Imagine my pissiness if I had of. Not to mention the size of the piss puddle around me.

Desperado with a Full Bladder...move the Fuck aside Peeple...and Don’t Look AT Mee!!

It's kinda hard to walk fast with yer upper thighs and yer fanny flaps, squeezed closed, tighter than a cat's arse. I wasn't really too bloody successful at it either. Although I did think at the time I had leaked something other than urine. Think red.

So it was no wonder I was shaking from my fast paced game of hike and pedestrian dodge along with the possible thought of total embarrassment when trying to hand my passport and shit to the doctors receptionist. She asked if I was okay, my hands were shaking that fucking badly. Would have hated to have had my blood pressure taken then I tell ya. I just shook my head in that roundabout way that suggests I'm neither okay and pointless going into it and begged for the toilet direction and the sample jar.

Oh Joy! The toilets were up THREE escalators inside the Posh Hotel building. So much for an untainted pee test huh. I coulda had nearly anyone pee in my jar. "Hey middle-aged woman, do you wanna try something FUN".

When I came back from relieving both my bladder and my mind [discovering I didn‘t have a big red arsed patch visible in my nether region] I sat in the only vacant chair thinking...How in The Fuck was my Mother gunna find me, or I her. Neither of us knew where the other one was Exactly. Brisbane is a pretty big city, not to mention there's a fuckload of people in it...We passed/ran into/dodged/asked just about them all when I was done with the doctor/blood test/x-ray places...I know we saw some of them five times when looking for that fucking car-park.

She knew I was somewhere in Ann St and that the Posh Hotel had something to do with my whereabouts...a few people were called into the various doctors. When lo and bloody behold my Mother got up from the furtherest chair away from me and sat down grinning in the closest one to me.

I swear my mother could have been a blood hound. HaHa.

So she has not totally lost her short-term memory, she remembered my mentioning the name of the Posh Hotel unlike me at this moment. The Sofitel or Socatel or something.

We eventually found the car about two hours and what felt like at least two hundred foot kilometres later. I wish I had worn my pedometer could really tell how much we walked looking for that fucking car and it's hidey hole.

Funny. Later, when we had safely returned to my Aunts, Mum say’s “I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I had forgot to lock the car’s backdoors”.

Maan it coulda been reaaally worse aye. Heh.

Car-park cost = $34.
Fluid loss = about half my body weight.
How I feel about my Mum = she's absolutely priceless. Although I would have sold her on the cheap this day.

I’m so Haappy to be Back!

2007-02-23T22:54:00.000-05:00

Didya’s miss ME??

Did you even bloody notice me gone? Fuckyers. HA!

My trip up to Brisbane with my Mum for my medical is at least four steenking posts on it’s own. I can laugh about it noooow, yep, now that it’s over but at the time. The only laughing I was capable of doing then was that *half hysterical half I’m gunna fucking kick the shitter out of someone very. soon* type of laugh...Or is that just one of my laughs? hmmm. Naaah.

Anyway, regardless. Until I feel like amusing perhaps You, or me, I will leave it at the following...

One habit that was getting on my tits regarding the Mother that I love and adore. Love AND Adore people!!

Whenever in traffic and she lets someone in or even when they just merge on their bloody own. She performs this half arsed finger wave and say's, without fucking fail, she says..."C'mon Bub".

Now, you are possibly thinking damn that Apos Piece is raaather harsh on her Mumsy, lemme BloodyWell tell you, after the 132nd time of it I was grinding my teeth on my tongue to stop it hissing out.

"Will you. sssshuuUTT-UUuuuuupp with that. fuck. king. c‘mon Bub bizo...Jeeesuzzz Kerriist Mia!!”".

I did forewarn her that I was going to start slapping at her hand if I saw that bloody wave from her again.

But, regarding the reason for the trip...

*heeheeheeee*

Guess what I’m sucking on? And what does it mean?

And No! It does not have skin or pubic hair attached to it. Wellll unless I rolled a nudist for the dackka that was stashed up his happy-free-loving bottom. Which I didn’t. Because I’m a Good Person like that. Dammit.

So there’s some hints, what.

Guess now!

Can it get any worse?

2007-02-20T01:37:00.000-05:00

Why yes, yes of course it can.

One can travel all the way back into Blahyah armed to the friggun teeth with all the documentation required and find they can't take one's bloody fingerprints. Why can't they take one's god fucking dammit finger fucking prints you ask, oh I heard yers ask it! Because they had someone out the back in custody. And apparently, they can not take one law abiding *cough* citizen out there to be fingerprinted [all in the same area] while the holding cell contains one freaked out, violent, crack ho.

I just stared in disbelief at the smiling, over-cheerful midget who was informing me of this.

Can. you. believe. this. SHIT!

Little did the merry midget know, that standing before her was a quickly freaking OUT, possibly violent, occasional pot head with an immigration dead line to meet. For a minute or two, I did *squinty eyed* wonder if I'd flung myself over the counter, grabbed her by the throat and started garrotting her with the string chaining the pen to the counter; if they would indeed change their policy about taking my bloody fingerprints.

She said to come back tomorrow. I explained that I can't keep coming back, that I needed to get this done, what's to say that you don't arrest and have someone else in custody tomorrow by the time I get in here. She just shrugged, explained and apologised, but really what could she do...I understood that shrug.

So what did the The Good Dick and I do?

Why we rang surrounding police stations and asked a) if they had a fingerprint machine and b) if they had someone in custody. Yes and No were the answers at one station about two hours [one way] away. If we wanted to take the chance we were more than welcome to give it a shot. So off we sped, going hell to blazes, except along the one long arsed stretch of dirt road. All the while beseeching Bubbha that the natives were behaving themselves while we travelled there.

My continuous pleasepleasepleasePUULEAAASE worked.

Although, I did have a close call once I was there, with a phone call coming in about a single goat duffing.

I have been FINGERPRINTED PEOPLE! Police headquarters will receive them and my application form by Wednesday. Now I can only hope that it is returned to me the Friday before my Monday immigration appointment. *live in hope...live in hope*

Halle freaakun lujah.

I must say, that’s a trip to be fingerprinted by that machine. A total of 18 prints are taken. Even the sides of your hands called the “writers print” is done. The lovely young senior constable and I were having a good old natter as we waited for the machine to beep and bleeep at the alternate positioning of my fingers, thumbs, palms and writers prints. I got an “A” for my ability to listen and comply with instructions, I would have had an “A+” but one had to be re-taken.

Yes, shut up I realise I was being graded against their usual clientele of drunks, bums and the aggro's.

The Fuck word and I, are well acquainted.

2007-02-18T10:19:00.000-05:00

Christ where do I start.

Still trying to get my bloody criminal background check and fingerprints done.

Rang the local police station on Friday trying to catch Matt the local copper rostered on. Phone rang through to Blahyah, I was told he was on his way into there regarding an “incident” and wouldn’t be back in the local station for 3-4 hours, try back then. I did. Every twenty minutes. Never got onto him. Rang the next morning, once again it went through to Blahyah’s station.

“Can you tell me when someone will actually be IN the local station”
“Not til Thursday”
“What! Oh bloody hell!”
“Is something urgent?”
“I’m just trying to get a background check and fingerprints done for immigration”
“Oh you rang yesterday”
“Yes, and the day before that...okay thank you”

So who do you ring when you need a favour, why you ring yer Dad, who happens to be a mate of the other local copper Dieter, who is on annual leave. Find out off him that they can’t do it because apparently up here in the sticks we have gone all high tech and shit, it’s no longer done with ink but by laser or whatever. I’d have to go into, yep you guessed it, Blahyah.

Rang back Blahyah station to find out what I have to do etc. Just come in the cop says and to bring my money with me. The Good Dick drove me in Sunday arvo and that’s when the real fun started. Turns out its no where as simple as stated in my immigration package. And really, why in the fuck would I expect it to be.

For a start, they didn’t really know what to do, understandable as they don’t get many, if ANY criminal checks for immigration. They didn’t even have the form. Apparently I am supposed to get it off the police website and bring it with me, yes, thank you immigration package for telling me this. They have no internet access so it couldn‘t be snagged by them. Luckily one of the coppers used to work in a station where others did do a few of them, so he rang his colleague and she faxed him up the form. Okay so now we are getting somewhere I thought.

I needed so many forms of identification. One had to be a photo id. Whips out my drivers licence. Only problem is my licence is under my married name and all my immigration paperwork is under my maiden name. I don’t know why this is, when I had the LFB query that Lawyer Prick about it, he said it’s just how it’s done. Even tho we are married all the paperwork from the US is done as a fiancée visa...which to me is fucking stupid as it just creates hassles.

They couldn’t accept it as my photo id.

This is where I became a right fucking plonker. My eyes welled up with big fat tears and I felt the sobs start catching in my throat. No amount of trying to blink them back while muttering to myself “oh god, don’t start fucking bawling”, it just made me worse. I ended up going outside to try and compose myself. Yep, due for my period tomorrow. So it was no mean feat.

I have to go back in today to try and get it completed. My window is getting smaller and smaller, everything has to be done before my interview in Sydney and it says to allow three weeks for the crim check to come back. Will take my passport which thankfully is the only “acceptable” photo id I have with my maiden name still on it. Alas the same cops who now have some inkling about what to do won’t be on.

The only highlight of the trip, was one of the assisting cops [I had three of them trying to work out what had to be done] was highly rootable, even if he did make me cry. I was ever thankful he wasn’t one of them “Heroes” or else he’d have heard me lustily think “phwoar, I’d like to break me off a piece of THAT, ouff”.

Wish me luck.

Bugger me the good things just keep on happening!

2007-02-15T09:50:00.000-05:00

I knew my decision not to chase and run over that random little prick of a kid with Tha Blue Hornet, would come back to me eventually.

Received my immigration package yesterday.

Sat out on the back step, hands shaking and heart thumping as I ripped it open.

After reading some of the questions that will be asked at the medical, I think I better pack a dainty white glove and practice my haughty “You Sir, are NOT a gentleman!...syphilis, gonorrhea...How DARE YOU”.

I have a choice of three male doctors in Brisbane, oh great, at least I suppose I will be able to say that my snootch will have been poked and prodded by four different men now. One ex, one bloke who did the stitching after child birth, one husband and then this one. I’m still deciding whether I will “tidy” it up for him or just make him fight his way to it and suffer while doing so.

I’m doing my utmost to not think about the possibility of having all my body passages being finger poked by this unknown assailant. I'm flying blind here, so my usual way when faced with uncertainty is to imagine the worst possible scenario and then tudaaah it’s never as bad...Pleasepleaseplease Bubbha let this be true in this case.

Contacted them and made my appointment for next Friday.

Medical=$242.00...X-Rays=$95.00...Blood test=$95.00...possible immunisations = fuck knows.

Rang the local cop shop to see who was on, apparently neither of them were, as my call went through to the station at Blahyah. One is back on deck today at 5pm...I will be there at 5.01pm to fill out a form, be fingerprinted and hand over $175.00 for the honour of doing so. Funny, when I notice that my State has the dearest criminal background checks, in bloody Western Australia it’s only $43.00. Rip off bastids here.

Jeezus Kerrrist, I just noticed that when I’m interviewed at the US Consulate in Sydney it’s $493.00 for that pleasure.

Only til you are on this side of the coin can you kinda understand why people immigrate illegally, to any country.

I wish I had turned that little prick of a kid into a speed bump now.

Here's hoping I'll see him again tomorrow.

"How to say I love You on this Valentines Day"

2007-02-14T03:29:00.000-05:00

This was the snippet leading up to the news.

Well, you'd belch the words with a bottom burp as the exclamation point if you were a bloke from around here.

I mean really, if you need a designated day to tell and show the one you love just how much you do, well yer just pretty fucked up I reckon.

Anyway enough of that rot I have much more important stuff to ~~say~~ screaaam my tits off about.

I got FOUR smacks!!!

Look at 'em...

Bloody lovely.

Thank you to Hot Coffee Girl for the review and yeah no worries I was being silly with my submission regarding the PPP and Ads...you won't see any of that here, because personally I think they look fugly, messy and cluttered on a blog. But each to their own aye.

For those who have no bloody clue about WTF I am yabbering on about go --->here and see for yourself what they are all about. If you care to have a go at it, can I suggest that you might wanna read the terms and conditions before submitting. They forewarn what you might be in for, by putting your blog and yourself up there.

But really, it’s all for the shits and giggles isn‘t it. Not like anyone would quit blogging because they didn’t like what was said by the bitches/commenters. And if the blogger did, that’s some seriously thin skin they’ve got happening there.

For those whose comeback consists of that fetid chestnut [if their blog was anally raped and pillaged] that "good" reviews are based on the template's design...[I mean, Fuck me have a look at mine] or are biased towards their mates etc. I have no association [that I know of] with any of these bitches, well before now. Heh...oooh I feel I'm gunna make some new friends and blogs to read out of this, I'm all aquiver.

Now, not wanting one comment to stand out because whoa so far I've been *blink...blink* rapt in them all, but I would be lying if I didn‘t admit, that my toes curled up a ~~wee bit~~ lot at Bitter Bitches one. She pink pulsating hearts me.

Oh and thank you to Asara [the other blog reviewed] I believe you made me look extra good.

Cheers. I'm off to dry hump some of the commenter’s legs.

When yer not looking, shit happens.

2007-02-10T21:54:00.000-05:00

On rare occasions I believe I am a rooly good singah. So I let anyone around me hear just how bloody good I am. Nothing like opening up my crusty old lungs and just letting rip with a rendition of Suzi Quatro's "If You Can't Give Me Love". Okay, dunno why that just happened? F-F just slammed his lounge room window shut. Oh well, no accounting fer taste *snooty sniff* is there.

I'm right-handed right. Earlier I noticed myself pouring my jug of boiled water into my drinking bottle with my left hand holding the heavier jug. I never do it that way. What's more I didn't spill a drop. Well I didn't til I noticed how I was doing it, then I was kinda like, oooh look what I'm doing and spilt some. I'm expanding my left hands repertoire it seems. Usually it's just there to hold my smoke while I type, or to hold my book on my lap when I'm wiping my bum.

This just in: F-F's Bushpig is wearing yellow undies today. I know this because they just came outside to have a fag and a cuppa and have chosen to sit on their doorstep while doing so. A doorstep that is up higher than my opposing one by a few feet because they live in the heights and I'm down in the flatlands of the complex.

"Oi Bushpig close yer bloody legs, I don't like yer hairstyle." Do you remember shouting that when you were a kid? It was all the rave. All the cool kids were saying it. Now for the most part, it would have to be amended to "I don't like the shape of yer piss-flaps".

Soon I will not be having anymore snipes at them. Rang the real estate agent and put in my three week notice to vacate. Will be moving out to the bliss that is my parents house. I say bliss not only because it is out of town and only surrounded by trees and wildlife and because they won't be there. Heh. That sounds awful. Not meant to sound that way, but hell I'm forty-one and like doing things my way. It's the only and best way, no? Besides, I would have to arm wrestle my father or put crushed sleeping tablets in his coffee for the use of the internet..."Aww when's it myyyy turn?" I'm too old to whine that.

They are off to house sit a few days after I move in. Roughly two months of it, two different houses. I will no doubt be gone before they come back. This is good, will make me less sooky when I leave.

FOYDC

2007-02-09T08:35:00.000-05:00

This will henceforth signify my more sassier posts...still I am not wanting anyone to die exactly. Good god I really did inherit some of my mothers goodness gene. My Bad Granny would be pleased and impressed, if indeed she still had half a clue who I actually was.

A FOYDC is cordially extended to that bastid immigration lawyer.

Yes, him again.

Do NOT be giving the LFB just three phone numbers for immigration approved doctors and tell him to pass them on to me. Makes me a tad pissy thinking I have to travel to fucking Caaanberraaa [about three hours further away than bloody Sydney's nine] when it appears perhaps I may not have to travel to either.

Just shut yer stupid frigging guts, if you are not prepared to give all the information, like other listed US approved doctor numbers. Do NOT give any information at all. Just wait for my "package" that was sent to you by the immigration department to be forwarded to me [should be here by the middle of next week] then, let me read it myself. Might save me from needless planning and despairing you jolly big twat.

It would have also been nice if you had mentioned that a criminal background check can be lodged at ANY Police Station not just supply the phone number for their headquarters in Sydney.

Oh and next time, perhaps you can take more bloody care when filling out my "papers". They were returned to me on Monday because details were not entered by you. Details that I had supplied YOU with, many full bloody moons ago.

Okay, things are looking up, my "interview" with immigration officials is on Monday the 12th of March at 10am. That's as long as that bastid lawyer hasn't fucked up that little piece of passed on info.

You can expect a good swift kick to yer cods if indeed you have.

And it won't be with me fluffy slippered foot neither.

Softcock.

Can you snort sleeping pills?

2007-02-06T21:26:00.000-05:00

Not, that I really want to.

After suffering crappy sleeping habits on and off for most of my adult life...my dark circled eyes are a testament to that fact. I finally sucked it up and got a script for a sleeping aide. Instead of just making do on the little or none that I get. I am now demanding a fair share of it.

I’m kinda excited to see how good it is...hope I go all warm and fuzzy with it. Then if I drift lullabying off to sleep, softly singing Haaappy traaails to meee. I will be one extremely happy bloody camper.

Even after asking questions and listening to my doctor [heh. seems funny to say “my” doctor] I still think I will test it out before I need it. Just to see how I wake up in the morning, no good being groggy with it.

She said it is mild but can still become addictive. Knowing how I can be with “addicting” stuff, I will treat it with caution.

But yay me, I’m now a pill-popper.

A Temazepam pill-popper to be exact.

Yes, I had to go look at the bottle fer the name.

Twice.

Repeat to myself

2007-02-01T06:09:00.000-05:00

Never, ever let a hairdresser put "product" in your hair and then let her "scrunch" your thinned out curly hair up. No! don’t let her do that ever. ever. again.

I looked like a retard.

Which may explain why that little kid was waving at me off and on for ten minutes.

Seriously, never return a kids wave with child like abandon. They'll want you to repeat it back every 30 seconds or so...*wave,wave,wave,wave,wave*. After the third go-round I realised the kid was not quite a hundred percent. I gave him one more round then I quit waving.

Now that I think about it, the hairdresser must not have liked me too much. Why else would she leave a centimetre wide strip of dye residual, along my hairline from ear to ear. Maybe if I wasn’t so horrified by my stiffly waxed curls I might have looked in the mirror longer than the two seconds I did and spotted the dye track before I left the salon to traipse into downtown Blahyah.

Dope fiends and a cock or too.

2007-01-29T06:53:00.000-05:00

Went out to the olds place for a barbie yesterday arvo. Remembered to take my camera. Well remembered to take photo's from my remembered camera. I usually think naah I'll get photo's of the place another day.

Another day came yesterday.

We had a pair of emus or as you Yanks call ‘em emoo‘s, coupla maggie‘s and just a lone kooka. Few cockies that ended up getting the bums rush with a shotgun.

They can chew up yer house, they have started snacking on the Oldies place so my father is trying to persuade them away from their stop and chew flight path. I’m sure he mutters “yeah, piss off yer bastid house chewing birds” as he pulls the trigger.

...ends with the obligatory [just "click" on the flaming] pics of an emu and a kookaburra...

So does anybody know how long it takes a bit of chouff get out of yer system. Say less than a weeks worth, with just say, kinda one scoob enjoyed, thoroughly bloody enjoyed, per night. Like is it one day free fer every scoob had?

Meh. Got me pack of old treasures tomorrow. Think I'll shut them up in the morning with an activity of "brain-drains. Consisting of a search-a-word and a cross-word, will also chuck up a word on the whiteboard. They see how many other words they can get, using the same letters. It keeps their heads down and their bums up. So what's a word meaning...do as I say or the Granny gets it? Plus gives me another week to come up with a craft activity for them.

I keep telling the ironing board to STFU. I know I have to iron my clothes. I hate ironing...ou now that the tennis is over maybe Boston Legal is back on. Bastids! it's not on tonight. Ohhh but Shameless is.

Bye now, iron is hot to trot.

Smootch my Snootch!

2007-01-27T00:45:00.000-05:00

I've decided that title is gunna signify my FOAD episodes in life, those moments or people that don't really deserve a death directive but pretty close to it.

Was tossing up the title, FUAD, until I read the classic "Smootch my Snootch" from the bloody funny thing writing Whiplash Smile and thought AHA! now that's what I'll use....she doeth make soapeths toeth.

And yes I don't really want them to smootch my snootch as in, put their lubra lips to my labian one's.

Now that I have laid full claim to this version of the title, the acknowledgements have been made I will continue on to the first person who can just Smootch my Snootch.

Hey You! the retarded [I will hide him as] SC and yer FC of a she-bitch, thee who has had a right good whack to the face with the ugly and skanky stick, them the fucked-up, retarded neighbours one street over.

I spit on these people. And I would pee on them too! using borrowed urine from a cat or dog...after they have "milked" it for me with their mouths first.

I was outside in the dead of night the other evening, enjoying the cooling breeze, sucking on a fag pleasantly watching the nightscape, picking out the "pot" and our Southern Cross in the stars. When the FC started screeching and shrieking, intruding on my serenity now moment.

Why can they smootch my snootch, exactly?

Because she was so fucked up on the grog. I couldn't understand one bloody word of what she screeched. I mean if ye are gunna decide to be the weekly entertainment [and also available sometimes for weekend performances] at least do it so I can freaking hear and therefore know what's going on.

Pair of snatchfaces.

Highlights/Lowlights of My Weekly Life...thus far.

2007-01-25T01:44:00.000-05:00

Nice plumber came and fixed the water around here. No longer do I play the fascinating game of "Morning Turd Rising...Will It Overflow or Not" when I flush it nor listen to it gurgling and bubbling when I'm doing me washing. Dislike gurgling and bubbling noises, highly annoying. I mean unless it’s a babbling brook or bouncing baby or because yer throat has been slashed there should be no gurgling and bubbling like that in the World. Thank You.

Pretended to be all efficient with a bout of “I’m ON it...before I need to be”...got a shitload of work stuff completed. Phone calls here, phone calls there, MDS completed and sent to governing body, blah blah. Some days I just rock in the workplace. What can I say.

Remained relatively unscathed by the demands from the Evil Old Leprechauns. Some how I think they are crafting and plotting a full blown attack on me and my services. Very. Soon. They are never this non-needy. I could get used to it.

A suggestion that I made to my Boss a few months ago is being passed up the food chain of power. I told her it was a faaabulous idea when she told me “her” solution yesterday. She didn’t hear the cackle in my voice when I said it. I know one person who will look over at me and knowingly grin when the Boss tables it at the next meeting. I had run it past her, ironing out the possible glitches before I mentioned it to the boss.

With this hot weather F-F has remained cooped up in his cooler flat, haven‘t seen or rather heard much from him a great deal lately. He pops up enough that my wish that he is slowly decomposing in his flat is crushed. Another reason to dislike the man. Crusher of Hope.

Elation hit an all time high in her quest to be nominated in the Dirtiest Old Bitch Out There category. I watched as she re-picked at her scabby legs and then placed a bit of the dry scab in her mouth and chewed on it. Bad enough that she fiddles around in her own pootchy-snootch she now uses those same fingers to transport crusty bits to her diet. Charming manners and habits.

The start of my days off are once again upon me. I remembered to put The Blue Hornet in park this time. No doubt I will go and re-check that I really did later.

***ooooh and would you look at me with these tag thingies no need for the WTF and Who The Hell scrolly box now***

Various Hell's and Damnations.

2007-01-23T09:12:00.000-05:00

Started off with the Tuesday morning from Hell. Hell I Say! Well then again, not like Hell-Hell, lets amend that to say Semi-Hell. So it started off being Semi-hell had me old meth heads for the Oldie Day Care starting their day an hour earlier than normal. Because, get this, they whined about never getting enough time at their monthly short-bus destinations. And me! being the most excellent person that I am stupidly, stoooopidly listened to their whines. Instead of saying, "Dammit you people give me the right raving shits, just take, take, take and more, more, more". I arrange for their "whine" to happen.

I tell yer, I am almost an Angel. Almost.

So with a hissy shriek at the alarm clock, I got up at 7am...well technically kinda 7.20am. Had a few of them Shuuut Up and Flick at the ole snooze button moments. But I have it set ten plus minutes fast in the first place. So when it says 7.30am its just tricking me, its like only really quarter past.

Usual morning operandi is have a smoke or two, a coffee and then a shower, get dressed and then, only then, go out and load the Blue Hornet, start it up, come back inside and brush me teeth. After it has been spewing out it's "Die, Die from carbon monoxide poisoning you F-F neighbour" fumes for five or so minutes, I then drive merrily up to work. Okay the merrily part is a complete bloody fabrication. So all was going roughly to plan until that bloody car of mine wouldn't start.

"Crap, crap, crap, Faaaarrk!".

Dashed inside, thinking who can I ring, who can I ring to score a lift off. I'd never make it walking in time. First phone call, no answer, wasting minutes that I don't have. Run back outside when I hear Sally moving about, manage to bludge a lift to work from her. In 30 minutes I add extra tables and chairs to the morning tea table, set the bloody thing for 15, set up the tea/coffee station, always good to remember to fill and whack the urn on...and I did, butter their frigging Sao biscuits, cut up some tomatoes and cheese and then add these slices to the buttered Sao's. Then count Sao's and add four or so more.

All the time wondering where the frig Ditzy is. I'm chopping up chunks of watermelon when I hear her come in, 25 minutes late, then saying to me "Oooh, I forgot they were coming earlier todaaay" and in the same breath "I was just out there taaaalking, shoulda come and got me".

Then it's me with the not letting her know about how freeeaking busy I'd been/was "Yes, well I woulda if I knew you were out there, didn't hear ya" I then send her off on a mission, mainly so she don't stand there yapping, while I start getting more twitchy about not being ready for the Jihad Geriatrics when they storm the building all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and mouth twittery at 9am.

The rest I have managed to blur and block out...for the moment.

But the good thing is. My car werks. For the fourth time I have been reminded, yes I have done this about four times in twenty years of driving. Hee. To alllways check the gear I'm in. The bloody thing was in drive when I turned the key this morning weren't it.

*sheepish arrgghaha*...Silly Me.

Heh. At least I was still smart enough to figure that was what the problem was. Just a pity I wasn't smart enough not to tell Ditzy what I'd done. It makes her do this real screetchy/slow witted laugh/voice when she gets excited.

I feel the need, the need for a seeing-eye-blog.

2007-01-18T01:03:00.000-05:00

Hey! Look at this.

Hard to read huh. Now pull the corners of yer eyes as if you have had a really bad face lift. Or. Got yer pigtailed head and face caught in the short bus door. Either one will work. Another one from the Dad’s-gone-silly-with-the-emails library.

Anyway, enough of that.

I will have to start clicking on the little one arm/one legged dude in the Blogger word verifications very, very soon. Lately I stuff them up on my first attempt nearly every. bloody. time. I mean, I’m pretty sure I'm reading and typing them right. But alas no I'm wrong. Or so it reckons. Some days I know it’s just fucking with me.

And if I didn't know better I'd think there was someone here finishing off my coffee. I swear I still had those last mouthfuls left. Three times I have picked up that stinking cup to swig down the last of the dregs. EMPTY! and then I get disgusted about that. But I'm too lazy to get up and make another one. Plus soon I will forget about it being empty. And pick it up AGAIN. Dammit! I need some CLOSURE WITH MAH COFFEE.

Oooh why am I yelling? Am I deaf as well?!?

Had a visit from Masey the town bike yesterday, no I wasn’t after a quickie. She has decided to wuss out on acting as my relief up at work. Fuck! Now I have to come up with someone else. But I can understand her reasoning. She’s just shacked up with her latest. Some garden gnome looking dude. Add two more kids to the mix. Making it a four-kid household. Four girls at that. Eeek. Plus it’s not as important for her to make the extra income. Now that she has the next ~~sucker~~ provider.

She also cried that there was too much responsibility with the position. I agreed and cried with her. I’d only “shown her the ropes” on the office side for a two hour session. Hadn’t made her do anything concerning the Oldies. And really, bully fer her, she got away before she’d learnt anything of real value. But still, I repeat. Fuck! I have to come up with someone else now.

Hey Ruby...I picked up a Kurt Vonnegut book from the library the other day. “Timequake”...yes, well, all I can say at the moment is he sure does like to use the ! mark huh.

Hmm yes, now, about that coffee.

*insert clodhops leaving*

Criminal background checks and lying about my whereabouts.

2007-01-17T02:50:00.000-05:00

Tuesday was my first Day Care back with my crotchety old crack hoes. As much as I was dreading it...read sitting on the loo for my morning poo alternatively wailing "Awww but I don't waaanna gooo up theeeere" and "Fuck me, stupid bitch, why didn't I take an extra week off"...Yeah like I'd be feeling any different in a weeks time. I got my shit together [heh] bracing myself for a frolic fun filled day I made it out the door and on time. Unlike my second day back at work last week when I listened to me when I said “Bugger it, don’t feel like going today” so I didn’t. How good am I aye! Return to work from my holidays on the 9th and chucked a sickie on the 10th. At least I had the forethought to have them bring their own activity for the morning so I didn’t have to muck-arse around with that.

The day had it’s fair share of highlights. Well okay two highlights. That greedy bitch volunteer that gets on my tits didn’t show up. Still school holidays so I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be there. But, you just never frigging know. Plus, I successfully managed to bail out of the first monthly meeting. Really, did I ever doubt that I wouldn’t come up with an excuse. As the introduction in my monthly report said...My apologies for being unable to attend this meeting as I am fulfilling my first love, namely that of Bingo calling this afternoon. Yes, on certain days...I can and do embrace the yawn fest that is calling bingo numbers. Funny that those embracing days are usually the third Tuesday of the month. But nonetheless I embrace thee.

Guess what I did today? I pretended I wasn’t me when I had a phone call from my governing body. “No, sorry she’s just popped out, can I take a message”, then I listened to the caller getting snippy about leaving a message on the machine last week and having still not received a call back. I managed to not give myself away with a “Bitch. You didn’t ring here!”. Buggered where that message went, for the life of me I don’t recall having or deleting one from her. So then I had 30 minutes of wondering what the hell they wanted and damn why did I pretend I was not me, now I’ll have to fake a voice...hmmm I wonder if I can pull off a Pakistani accent...when I return the phone call.

When I rang back, I got some bloke with a “She’s not at her desk, can I take a message”. Okay phone tag, I like this game, perhaps we can play it til I’m out the work door and deal with her another day. Not to be. Reminding myself to not sound like me each time I answered the phone, I waited for her to return my return call. She did. Was about a positive answer in a criminal background check for one of my volunteers. Because we deal with the aged and frail all volunteers must have a background check. Stands to reason, can’t have a granny or grandpa beater delivering their meals on wheels can we.

Alas it was not about that greedy bitch volunteer, was looking hopeful about shedding her arse and all. So now I have to ask this particular volunteer what she was “convicted” of in 2006 and then ring this lady back and she will tell me where we go from here. I’m pretty sure I know what it is for, the volunteer in question has been driving for twenty odd years and has never held a licence to do so, I recall a snippet about her getting pinged for it a few months back. I don’t “employ” her to drive, just to occasionally cook and help throw them on and off the short bus on their once a month bus outings.

In reality it will be irrelevant as this volunteer is relocating back up to Queensland in a month or so.

No good deed goes unrewarded.

2007-01-15T08:36:00.000-05:00

Before I left, CrankyFranky threw an envelope at me. Having a good idea what was within the envelope I told him I didn't want it. "Yeah, well I don't care if you want it or not you are gunna take it mate, or I'll ring the cops!"..."What, and say I stole yer bloody car?"..."Too right, maate"...we then played a verbal ping-pong game of "Nah I don't want it" and "You'll bloody take it"...bloody crusty old fart. A more than generous crusty one at that.

As I was ushering him and his little dog too from the garage, sure as shit would have haaated to reverse over that retarded, hyper mutt, I was treated to the sight of Crankies duds falling from his frame in one smooth swoosh. Displaying him in most of his glory, with his hospital withered legs and his shirt tucked into his undies..."Now Cranky, just because you paid me doesn't mean you can flash me" I stooped over to pull his duds back up. I received a whack from his crutch for that comment. Made me laugh. Oh noo, eek...I touched an old mans bum!

Alas, no photo of me wielding my handmade sign. And I put sooo much bloody effort into it and all. Well actually no I didn't really. Four sheets of paper, a buttload of sticky tape and a black texta. I only do the glitter, streamers and balloons for people I know. The reason why no photo, had no trustworthy photographer, my sister had to bail on me because of something her husband did or didn't do. heh. Bloody Floyd!!. So I unpacked my camera and the sign, figuring hell there'll only probably be five people to get off the bus and I was right with my figuring.

Little did I know that my neighbour Doug would also pull into the transit centres car park to pick up one of the five that would be alighting from the bus. Passed the 30 odd minutes of waiting chatting to him.

The bus was on time, she didn't smell, was good company on the return drive and told Cranky to "Oh Shut Up" five minutes after she walked in his door. I liked her. Nearly as much as I like him. Bonus.

Stoopid wall-hanging!

2007-01-13T05:22:00.000-05:00

Yep that time has rolled around again when I decide that I must finish sewing that stinking wall hanging for the oldies. The time has also rolled around for me to be cursing that lazy fucken cow of a volunteer who up and left me doing it in the first place because she got a wee yappy dog jammed in her smelly bits and quit. No, I didn't start calling her a fucken lazy cow til after she quit, so that wasn't the reason for the quitting. She just didn't expect to do a great deal while she was volunteering. I mean WTF. Up yours, you hunk of dog crap.

Well I'm just slightly crabby at the moment.

Stoopid wall-hanging.

Made the mistake of answering the phone earlier, woke me from a nap so I wasn't thinking clearly. Turned out to be one of my meals on wheels clients, CrankyFranky. He just got out of the hospital after a five week stay from falling over and breaking his hip. Soon as the voice said "Is that the goddamn Yank" I knew who it was. Silly old coot calls me a Yank. I call him a crusty old fart so I reckon we're even.

Wanted to know if I would drive his car into the *next big town* over to pick up his sister Monday night from the bus stop. She's coming up from Sydney to give him a hand with his rehabilitation. Naturally I told him to piss off and slammed down the phone. Yeah, right. So guess what I'll be doing on Monday night between 7pm and 10pm. If you said dodging kangaroo's and holding up a cardboard sign with "Crusty Old Farts Sister" on it you would have guessed correctly. Hope the bus isn't running late and I hope she isn't one of them smelly old people types.

Oh well, enough of this, back to the sewing.

Stoopid wall-hanging.

I desire minions, not opinions.

2007-01-05T21:09:00.000-05:00

Why don't the plebeians within breathing distance of me know that.

Ou I'm feeling quite chatty and friendly. Not to worry, it won't last long. Obviously other people are feeling the same. Just by going on the amount of stinking traffic coming and eventually going from these flats. Not many of the vehicle occupants are for me. Thank fuckily. I dislike drop-ins. And if Bubbah thinks he is fooling ME when he drives in, in different vehicles. Ha. I'm on to him and his sneakiness. It’s getting so that I can tell who is here and for whom without glancing out the window. Fatcar sound...yeah that’s Bubbah. Quiet zippy car...yeah that's Sally.

Been having frightfully, I say frightfully good weather over here. All overcast and shit, windy with the occasional drop of rain. Bloody lovely. Oooh having some rain now. Ouff. Wait on, let me get a whiff of it. Love the smell of rain. I once made that same comment when in a three way with a local Goddyite and the Hostel cook Vi about a recent storm we had just had. The Goddyite replied with a "Yes, isn't He wonderful, what He does for us". My 'WTF is she ON' face matched Vi the cooks one. Then we giggled and the Goddyite went on her merry eldery way. Happy and secure in the knowledge that Jesus does indeed love her. The rest of us think she's a wee old cunt...arhaahaa I love that saying.

I'm in love with Vi the Cook. She's a crack-up. All jolly and quick with the wit like. She is never any different any time that you enter her work area. Which can't be said about the rest of the workers there. It's like walking into a charter of MoodyRudeBitchAnon. One of them I am still undecided whether she is a full blown member of the above group or if she is just people skill retarded. Some days a "hello" some days just that "blank stare through you" from her. Some days I give her one of those overbright, fake Helloohs, when we pass in the hallways just because I'm pretty sure it annoys her.

I can be all friendly and shit like that.

Just like a mongrel dog when it's dry humping yer leg.

I'm a Believer...

2007-01-03T09:41:00.001-05:00

that the LFB is either making an attempt at "sure showing me" or he heard me when I said in our last conversation, which was [erm sun, mon...] four! days ago. Lately he has been online every two days.I said that I had bugger all to say to him. Does that sound uhm harsh? Now before you may think I was bummed out with talking to him and that's why I haven't posted in over a few days. Perish the thought, I wasn't bummed or anything similar...a special thank you goes out to Allan! it's the second or third time that I've had a good *poke* in over two years, hope it was good for you too.

I just meant fuck all can happen in two days.

Well no, actually a lot can happen in two days. Just not when you are the located in a country town whose population is just over five hundred people...I personally think on the last census that smelly old GoatLady got away with counting her herd of goats, sheep, dogs, cats, chooks, rats and, annnd,...oh her body vermin. Then when two hundred of those two and one legged bodies are currently in the surrounding hospitals a few hours away. Nah, there hasn't been an outbreak of birdflu, chainsaw massacring madmen [one can only hope for this excitement, would put us on the map baybee], a tsunami or anything cata-sendusmelotsa$$$now-strophic like that...just most of this towns folk is made up of those in God's waiting room and they keep breaking things. Mostly their body bits.

Nah, nothun much tah say bout whuts been goin on round 'ere...*lazily tugs at duds, waves a fly away*.

I bought another lotto ticket.

Every now and again I AM a BELIEVER baaybee. Yes, a believer that I could win and that money will and can buy me happiness. If I won lots and lots of it, I could explain to my employers exactly how to shove their job up their collective mangy, withered and pouchy old pusses. But nice like. I've got less than a weeks holiday left. I made an error when adding up my days away from those evil old bitching witches and that cesspit I call my workplace. Here I was, praaaactically ~~boasting~~ dancing because I thought I had something like 26 days off, then to work out it was/is only 18 or so. Sucks to be me huh. Heh.

Received an email from the redheaded not entirely right in the head and body step-sister-in-law. It contained a photo of the LFB and that stoopidpoddledog Maddison. Her signature line kinda made me go whuuut and fuckNO at the same time.

..."Jesus gives us courage to face each day; Stop and give thanks to Him"...

More power to her. I guess. I just have never got into the thought/mindset that I'm not responsible for my own courage. But really, the last bit could be put in a much bloody nicer way..."Why not stop and give thanks to him". She must have got in with some Goddyites. She's never had that signature before. Oh well aye. The Jesus part doesn't really bother me...I usually read that in my head as a Cheech "Heyseus".

“Heyseus geeves us courage and pot to face each day amiiigo; Stop and give thanx and a twentie to heem"...Yeah well, pfft, it makes me laugh.

Finally rang and got the banking details for the real estate office, was the third time I’d gotten the information. Keep putting the details in a very. very. safe place. Obviously, really bloody safe, can't find them. Paid some more rent via the net. Brings me up to February. I should be hearing something from immigration “late January, early February”, but that came from the same lawyer gob that spouted “by Christmas” over two months back. Yeah, Seeya in April, May. Maybe.

I made a new years resolution. Well, not reaaally a resolution. More an attempt maybe. I think I may attempt to start commenting to commenters in my comments. I like that. Hey that’s one of them suzy sellz zee seashells at zee seashore type of tongue twists. Kinda.

Okay, well its TutTah for now.

Reason # 527 Why I Married The LittleFatBastid.

2006-12-21T06:06:00.000-05:00

"I went to the store other day, went to the deli to get cheese, waited in line, few olds around me and lady asked can I help you?...I said no, not with that booger hanging on your nose, I'll just wait until that other lady is done."

YaaaaY it's over...

2006-12-19T04:45:00.000-05:00

I feel so weak, my feet and back are killing me. Considering I feel like a decrepit 75 year old now. I just know I am going to wake up in the morning like I'm an arthritic 90 year old.

Ask me if my mother or I had any time to eat and enjoy the mighty fine smorgasbord of food that we slaved over today. In answer to your question. No, no we did not.

Ask me if my mother and I were left to clean up the majority of the mess and return the borrowed "goddaaamn they are bloody heavy tables" to the Hostel next door. In answer to your question. Yes, yes we were.

Ask me if that volunteer who sometimes calls bingo annoyed the piss out of me today. In answer to your question. Why yes, yes she did.

It's her greediness that got to me today. That "I'm not going to miss out on anything and I don't care if you do" mentality.

One of my clever crafty older tarts made about 35 of the following lolly filled reindeer which she placed at every setting, with a few of them left over.

She also made two of them in a larger version [the snout contained nuts] thinking I could use them somehow. Oh boy could I!!

**I reckon I don't have to tell youse a bigger, clearer version is available if you click on the photo**

They became the second and third prize in the afternoon Bingo.

The first prize was a big box of assorted goodies with over $50 worth of "Whyyy I'm gunna spoil you rotten" chocolates, biscuits and lollies etc.

Guess who won first prize?

Yep. Greedy Bitch did.

That left about five others vying for second and third. Only those five continued to play. Thankfully we had two winners in the next game...my time of calling bingo had come to an end. As I walked past her with the second and third prize in my hand, she asked for the purple one. Whut? Can I have the purple one, she repeated. No, you won that I frowned and pointed at the box full of good stuff.

Now remember when I said there were a few of the smaller lolly reindeer left over. The oldies were asked if any of them would like an extra one. The greedy volunteer quickly reached out and grabbed one off the table and put it in with her first prize box. My mother who was sitting beside her chipped her about taking it when she had "all that". Didn't faze her. I found out later she had a total of three of the bloody things in that box. She has those three rude mongrel kids see.

The day was on it's last legs and they were making moves to leave. I had ducked back out into my office. This volunteer approached me and asked me for a favour. Whut? Can I get three of them and she pointed to the spare Christmas bonbons. I said your bloody kidding you have all THAT...the box now contained a few side plates of leftover morning tea that we put together for the oldies to take home with them...and now your wanting the bonbons as well. She launched into why she wanted them, apparently she has one extra person for her Christmas Day. That's all I heard. In snippy disgust I cut her off with a "Just take the bloody lot".

Now I'm realising she had probably already snaffled three others off the table earlier. And yes, I know they were just bonbons and not like I will be here to use them for next years Christmas Do. Not like I have been able to use the spares from previous years...I like them to match up. It just rankled me that she wanted them also.

In keeping with that nobody goes home without a prize spirit, I ask that my Day care clients bring in a wrapped gift. These are mixed in with the other gifts that we had put together as a craft activity a week or so before. As people leave they take out a prezzie.

Yep. When she walked back out to the office area to collect her box I noticed one of these gifts being added to her booty of goods. Wouldn't surprise me if she took more than one, as my mother missed out on getting one. Not that it bothered my mother none but strangely enough, earlier there were a few more gifts than there were people.

Come Christmas Day I will have happy thoughts of her sucking in instead of blowing out on the bonbon noisemaker.

Yeaaah. Choke on it, you greedy bitch.

Oh my weekend is was complete...squeal

2006-12-17T11:35:00.000-05:00

Friar-Fucks slag turned up ~~today~~ ~~yesterday~~ the day before yesterday along with her kid. I wonder if I continually roar out my window dirtyyyyyyyy bushpig sssssluuuuuuuuuuuutt if she’ll get upset and go back home.

No, probably not. So I won’t bother.

My sisters horrible mother made me get up at six bloody thirty ~~this~~ ~~yesterday~~ the day before yesterday morning. She wanted to be in at the shops early. We were. And guess what...there was some bloke with a table set up selling raffle tickets for some charity at seven bloody thirty in the morning. I avoided eye contact with him when entering the shop because I wasn't sure if I would have enough money. Upon my exit I threw a few two dollar coins up in the air and made him run around collecting them like you do with kids and lollies [candy]. Fuck 'em no such thing as sitting on yer butt crack if you want my money.

Heh...no I didn't, I'd bloody like to do that one day tho. Just to see their reaction. They'd probably tell me to go and get fucked. I know I would.

Accck. Got that stinking Christmas Party to put on this Tuesday. I don't wanna. I along with my mother were looking forward to having it held in the local Club. Kicking back and actually enjoying the day...well maybe not enjoying it on my part exactly...but not having to bother with the food as I had arranged with the Club Manager for their caterers to do it all at twelve bucks a head. All was going well until there was a wee whisper in my ear from one of my old tarts about non club members being unable to enter the premises.

I rang this same Manager and asked if this was true. He cited the five kilometre rule...which is if you live within five clicks from any registered Club you must be a member to enter. Now, this is no where near a new rule but it should only be applied if you are wanting to purchase their alcohol and shove your money in their poker machines [slots] not for freaking functions. I asked if members can sign the non-members in for the day, his reply was no. Which again is a load of cow patties. I know all this because I used to work in the registered club industry for many moons and I don't believe the criteria has changed any.

Turns out he was pinged and fined by the licensing police for selling grog to non-members. So in his wisdom he made a blanket decision. Nice if he had told me this when I first made the booking. Instead I went a few weeks in utter bliss thinking Ha! no setting up, no cooking, no running around like a headless chook, no cleaning up...yeah yeah blah blah.

Prick.

If he hears me scream his name on Tuesday it won't be because my panties are wet.

3.7 something kilometres...

2006-12-12T08:22:00.000-05:00

That’s how much I walked back and forth for them crusty and musty old tarts at Day Care today. Just once I’d like to say “What! Are your legs fucking broken or something” but alas most of theirs are, well not broken exactly but you know...

So it’s just 5 more work days until I am freeeee from them, the self-fingering nurse and the Buuut she calls Bingo Day Care volunteer for nigh on 26 days. Can you hear my squeal of joy? Wait up, lemme give it another shot I am sooo sure I can get louder with it. Next Tuesday is their Christmas party...so once I’m over that and all it entails then it’s all downhill from there.

Then and only then can I truly give in to my total Catweaselly ways. The only thing that would enhance those 26 days off would be me, being able to have a few relaxing scoobs. But we know how that is...but one daaay my pritty, one frigging day you will once again be occasionally miiiine.

If I didn’t know better I would think that Friar-Fuck is following me lately. Seems every local shop I go into, the neighbour I most despise soon enters after me.

Not tooo chuffed about that. Not at all.

He had a brief flicker of recognition in his eye and the start of a smile this morning when our paths crossed. But I managed to snuff that out with a blank beady eyed look. Can’t be getting friendly [heh. yeah as if] with the arch nemesis now can we.

No. No we can’t.

Aww I have a neeew friend...

2006-12-07T02:54:00.000-05:00

Was doing my lounge lizard act when I heard scrabbling against my screen door, I looked towards it and then this head popped up looking back in at me.

It then managed to jam itself up in between my screen and glass door. Not understanding my instructions to it to stop snorting the ant dust and reverse out, I was forced to put on my big girl panties and actually go outside and assist it.

Here it is blowing me a kiss for doing so.

*if you click on the picture you can see how pretty it's tongue is*

Once I herded it off my back step I tried to keep it in my yard as it's said if you have Blue Tongues you don't have snakes but alas it scarpered out underneath my gate.

But it may have came back last night for another visit, as this morning I had a little unwrapped present waiting for me.

I am going to refrain from...

2006-11-27T00:08:00.000-05:00

telling you about how freaaaking hot it's getting over here as I wouldn't want youse to be jealous of our 39 degree [about 100 F] Spring weather. Yeah riiight...as if you could be jealous of your butt crack being a hothouse for growing stuff. I'd consider buying that kiddies pool to wallow in but I am afraid it might just draw in the snakes like Sally’s pond did last Summer.

Whoa me I finally made it to the red zone in Literati...I know this won’t interest you but fuck yers I’m good dudes! Really. Really. Good. Yes, yes we won’t mention how long it took me to get there or that I’ll probably not last in that zone for long. Heh. Oh well gives me something to aim for.

I dunno, lately, my idea of a fun time is to burp and fart at the same time.

Heh. The Super Squirrel [SS] brother in law is persona-non-grata [for those that don’t speak Latin he fooked up big time and everybody hates him and wants to poke him with sharp implements until he bleeds...well okay, maybe they don't hate him exactly] in the Hillbillie household at the moment. He had his bags packed and told not to come inside the homestead and especially not near the Little Fat Bastid. And rightly so. I won’t go into what he did but lets say it could have jeopardised not only my immigration but also with the ripple effect on other family members lives he could have caused a truckload of problems. Instead it backfired on his sloppy arse. Stoopid SS, he had it soo bloody good too. Now he is living down in his trailer without bathing facilities or heat. But. Oh well. Might make him pull his finger out and do the things to it that should have been done ~~months~~ years ago instead of playing at being a pretend fireman etc.

Now don’t get me wrong here...volunteer “whatevers” do a heap of good, over here in the bush most emergency services are coordinated and acted upon by volunteers...but you gotta laugh at someone attending the scene of an accident and hitching up his dud’s that phones, yes plural, keys and various other important wanky looking stuff hang from and ask the paid professionals what the details are and how they are “handling” it. Wouldn’t you just want to slap him about the head and body with a frozen tuna.

Ohhh is that a breeze I’m feeling or did I just sit on a bottom burp and it fanned it’s way up.

HeeHeeHeee...

2006-11-22T02:37:00.000-05:00

Guess what I did ~~today~~ yesterday?

I hopefully went to my last work meeting over in the city of Blahyah. I will be seriously pissy [like I mean seeruslee] if I am still around to go to the one in January. Please immigration gods let that not be a chance, oh who am I kidding I will probably come up with some lame-o excuse not to go anyway. Aww no sorry my dog had kittens, can't possibly attend. Normally I would still be on holidays for the January meeting, but at this stage I believe I am only taking two weeks off over Christmas as opposed to my normal get me the hell out of here five weeks.

And bugger me dead if ~~today's~~ yesterday's meeting wasn't over and done in forty-five freaking minutes. That's bloody unheard of. Even with the waffly guts Dementia coordinator uhmming and bloody ahhing all through her report plus her then reading aloud some correspondence she received. I nearly jabbed her in the face with my pointy elbow when she asked the committee if they wanted her to read it out to them. Then I pictured myself leaping on top of the table and Mexican hat dancing upon it kicking the various committee members in the chops who nodded their head yes. Instead I had to make do with gouging half moons into my palms whilst mentally rocking myself with....last one, last one, last one, you can do this grasshoppaaah.

Whoa...it might be my last ONE!!!

So I get home earlier than normal and feeling pretty abfab about it when thirty minutes later I am assaulted by the caterwauling from the brats next door magnified by another two visiting kids. Then I am deliiiightfully amused by some stray heathen riding his bike up and down the flats driveway, yelling at the top of his bless his little heart lungs. He goes up...he goes back...he goes up...he goes back. Damn me for not having a set of road spikes. Eventually I got up and had a sly peek out the window wondering where this pedalling brat materialised from...as it certainly wasn't from fucking heaven...ohhh okay that explains it, his father who lives at the top of the street is parked out on the road talking to Friar-Fuck paying no mind whatsoever to what his son is doing. So with the next lap he came screaming through I reefed up the curtain and in my best rabid cat impression I hissed at him. Wahlah. No future driveway laps.

There are times I do so enjoy being the CatWeasel of the flats.

**please note that no stray heathen was hurt in the hissing...although he may have crapped his duds**

Oh how I love thee.

2006-11-16T20:26:00.000-05:00

The Little Fat Bastid knooows what I loikes, although I’m not exactly fussed on my eyebrows and eyelashes catching the crumbs when I tip the bag up to catch the dregs. My tongue won’t reach those areas on me. Oh whhhy am I cursed with a non porno tongue.

I was ~~looking~~ scowling at Friar-Fuck while he was talking to Doug the other day when it hit me who he reminded me of...none other than Riff Raff from RHPS. The only difference is I liked Riff Raff from the start, I have yet to discover any likeable qualities about F-F and really there's not much chance of me doing so aye. He will continue to remain in my fuck off and stop breathing category.

Ho hum not much happening here at the moment. Although I did pee on a spider this morning. It was in the toilet bowl, I did think it had drowned so I didn't bother flushing it away before I peed all that conserving water what. Halfway through my stream I thought hmmm maybe it was playing possum and it isn't dead and at this moment it is headed for my nether regions. Well that was enough for me to stop mid stream and look. Sure enough the little bastid was halfway up the bowl heading for my pink bits. Imagine having a spider bite there. Uhm no thanks think I’ll pass on that experience.

Told Elation the self fingering community nurse to “just shut up” yesterday...guess I’m getting weary of her dramatics whenever she is retelling all and sundry a conversation that she supposedly had with a client. Yes I know, she really adheres to the confidentially clause eh. You know her “parts” in it are bullshit. Sometimes, well I just get tired of listening to her imaginary end of the conversation and how she told this one this and how she told that one that. I reaaally need to get away from these people and no doubt them from me.

Speaking of getting away, I signed and sent off a form for the immigration lawyer yesterday. It is supposedly near the end of the process and should be finalised by Christmas. But I won’t put too much effort into my happy heel clicks just yet. There is sure to be a few more hurdles. I’m just hoping that whatever doctor they send me to for my medical isn’t located in Sydney, not really fancying a ten hour car trip to get to them. With any luck one of the 206 doctors on their list [bugger ‘em...a list that they don’t have on their website] will practice a bit closer to where I’m at. You would think so huh. When I’m feeling optimistic I think maybe, just maybe one of them is only about three hours away and it can all be done in one day. Time will tell.

Feeling a bit blaaah today. Dunno why, I slept for nigh on fourteen bloody hours. Yep 14 of the suckers. Thought I’d sneak in a an hour or two nap before Earl come on...next thing I know its like 4am in the morning, so I slept for another 4 and got up around 8am. I should be feeling alive, refreshed and kick arse.

Maybe I need a few games of Literati. Hmmm, yes that might be it.

Every now and again...

2006-11-12T19:40:00.000-05:00

my Father sends on an email that I find amusing enough to share with you...well anyone really.

Okay, here's what you gotta do...yes gotta.

Get a blank piece of paper draw a picture of a whole pig on it, not just the head but a basic drawing of one, don't spend too long on it Picasso.

Draw the pig before you read on.

IF YOU DON'T...THE TEST WILL NOT WORK!!

NO CHEATING.

So have you done it yet or what.

Here's mine that I prepared earlier...Shut UP is too a pig [<---click to see ;)]

**Now don't read any further until you have drawn the goddamn pig**

Ready?!?

The pig serves as a useful test of the personality traits of the drawer.

· If the pig is drawn to the top of the paper you are positive and optimistic.

Toward the middle you are realistic.

Toward the bottom, you are pessimistic and have a tendency to behave negatively .

· Facing left you believe in tradition, are friendly and remember dates, birthdays etc.

Facing right you are innovative and active but don't have a strong sense of family, nor do you always remember dates .

Facing front [looking at you] you are direct, enjoy playing devil's advocate and neither fear nor avoid discussions.

· With lots of details you are analytical, cautious and distrustful.

With few details, you are emotional and naive , you care little for details and are a risk taker.

· With less than 4 legs showing you are insecure or are living through a period of major change.

With 4 legs showing you are secure, stubborn and stick to your ideals.

If you have drawn more than 4 legs you are stupid. Heh.

· The size of the ears indicates how good a listener you are. The bigger the better.

· The length of the tail indicates the quality of your sex life and once again the longer the better.

Okay, who didn't draw a tail?

Hmmm so what did your pig look like huh?

What is it about my face...

2006-11-09T00:56:00.000-05:00

that makes completely random people want to converse with me. Today this swarthy, heavily clothed, sunglass wearing dude come up to me as I was getting out of my car and asked me how to spell silk. Silk? Yes silk. Oh okay, thinking he was testing my superior brain honed by hours of Literati I spelt it for him...F.U.C.K...O.F.F...W.A.N.K.E.R.

No I didn’t, sometimes I am the good fairy whilst out in public...I spelt it, then he immediately said what do cows drink? Water was my reply. Ohh big hearty stupid guffaws from him I guess I better get a new riddle you‘re supposed to say milk. Yes, maybe one that hasn’t been around for donkey’s years would be the way to go. With that, off he continued on his merry guffawing way.

But it did make me wonder how many people he accosted in his journey up the street with that riddle. And how many more times he will ask it in his lifetime.

Had some fat bastid clomping around on my roof earlier. Knowing full well it was too early for Santa, I ventured out my back door just as a bucket of leaves and dirty water was thrown off it. It was my fellow flat dweller Doug cleaning out my gutters. Now, before you think what a jolly good fellow is he. He gets cheaper rent to do the yard and roof maintenance and the gutters should have been cleared like before we had our downpours. Would’ve stopped them from overflowing the past few rainy days. I dunno, slack tart that he is. I mean I had to sweep out my carports the other week. Horror. Soon he’ll have to “mow my lawn bitch”...it’s looking lovely and green at the moment. Which makes a pleasant change from the brown and dead it has been for the past few months.

Speaking of brown and dead I need to go do a poo.

I‘m such a little charmer.

Then I’m going to go kick the living crap out of my Literati opponents...whoever they shall be. Wheeeee.

I must have went walkabout...

2006-11-05T00:00:00.000-05:00

without the walking. Buggered if I know what I been doing for the past week or so...oh hold on, yes I do, I been off on a yahoo literati [similar to scrabble but more lenient] playing jag. And may I say there are some very. poor. fucking. rude. losers. [and winners] out there. If they have never heard of the word they'll accuse you of cheating, she was a bitch, I’m not playing her again, admittedly the word was bize and fucked if I know what it means rightly either [I think it‘s a tool] but I do know it’s a word and it worked. So up YOURS beeatch. Mind you I haven't heard of some of their words neither but the thought never crosses my mind, that they might be using a cheat programme. Well, all except this one dude, the thought did cross my mind with him. Yeeaah, cheating bastid I thought.

Been and had my two yearly...well okay it had been about ~~four~~ perhaps five years...pap smear. Had me boobs felt up and my skin checked. More action than I have had in a helluva long time. Yes, enough from yoooou I know you beat me in that. I can still remember what it actually feels like and know that I miss it. heh.

Chucked a sickie from work the other day. Guess which day it was. If you answered Wednesday you'd be wrong...nah you wouldn't be, was just joshing. Of course it was frigging Wednesday I hate stinking Wednesdays. I also hate Tuesday's. Well except this one coming. Nope. Not because it's the short-bus day for them old Day Care people that I slave for. But because it's Melbourne Cup Race Day. The four legged Nascar that happens once a year on every 1st Tuesday of November. Woot. The Club is putting on a "day" for it. So all the old tarts and farts will be attending that instead. I did insert the happy skip at this piece of news. And most of them did see me do it. The Skip. Hee Hee.

The second happy skip inserted [a mental skip this time] was when I found out that I won't be seeing OR listening to that almost bores me to deaaath volunteer, that one who calls Bingo...chanting to myself, yes, BUT she calls bingo! is fast losing it's effectiveness. She must be pretty bad if I'm tossing up the thought of calling bingo the lesser of the two evils...for two, yes make that twooo, weeks, I won't be having to listen or look at her rot, I can hear a halle-bloody-lujah wanting to burst forth in my thoughts. She is off up to Brisbane on the 14th for a medical appointment. Yes, yes I know, I’m on the long-bus to Hell because she is obviously not exactly healthy, but dammit she gets on my tits. So anyway, arrhaaha life is good. Well, it could be better but you know, it's the little things in life.

Speaking of little things. Went and actually visited with my now walking niece and her family earlier. During the visit I watched Ted the cat hook it's claw into their dog Asif's jowl. Maan that sucker was hooked in good, to the point Asif was turning and smiling at you very lopsidedly. Stoopid dog just had that look as if to say "bloody hell, look at what I put up with". If I had taken my camera you would be looking at a picture of that right about now. But beings that I didn’t. Guess you have to miss out on that huh.

Now to really fill yers all in!!! Bugger me dead if we haven’t had some bucket loads of rain lately. Lovely stuff that rain. Especially when you are inside out of it. Reading...on the lounge...all snug and warm...eating pizza...or just eating anything really...by candlelight. Because the power happens to go out. After twenty minutes you start making candle wax creatures because you’ve gotten slightly bored in the semi darkness with making hand puppety things...look! a duck...look! the same duck giving the electricity company the finger with a ventriloquist mumble of fuck youse, hurry up and fix iiiiit.

Okay, dammit I mentioned pizza.

Bye now.

Now waaait just a mofoing minute here!!

2006-10-22T23:01:00.000-04:00

I’m seriously rethinking my immigration after reading this disturbing piece of news...Baahaastids.

Oh Noooooooooooooooooooooo.

Folate...what!! is that considered the new mass weapon of destruction or something...I mean to say, c’mon now it will only take out expats anyway...not like many yanks like the stuff. I can see myself now, not running around looking to be hooked up with some chouff but hooked up with some vegemite. Psst hey mate, got any vegemite, maan I‘m jonesing for it...as I perform the motions of making a sanga.

Already I am plotting how to bypass this, this duhcision...

* smuggle a couple of jars of it in, up my snatch and bum.

* swallow condoms filled with the lovely black spread.

* cover my torso and clothed limbs and then wrap myself in cling-wrap to be scraped off and re-jarred upon landing.

* smear it ALL over my body and face, pretend I'm an aborigine. Oh wait on, I am an aborigine I got the great grandmother [or was that great, great, great] to prove it.

* use it as a hair dye, to be squeegeed out upon landing.

* grow my finger and toe nails extra, extra long with it embedded under them...heh no bastid will want to sit next to me on the plane neither. Would you look at that filthy nailed bitch.

Bugger that. I’m gunna go cut off a limb or two and stick oodles of the jars in my hollowed out appendages. Yeaah that’s the bloody G O.

But really, folate is our friend. Did they just read the fucking ingredients on something that has been imported for years and years. May the deciders/enforcers hear endless spools of the vegemite song.

Ooer isn’t the Little Fat Bastids life gunna be hell. heh. What me without my morning [noon and night] shot of toast and vegemite. Plus how will I repel his “want some” advances when I’m not in the mood...a quick breathy vegemite kiss usually did the trick...dammit now I’ll have to resort to bottom burping.

*sidles up to* Tex how much will you sell me that jar for once I hit the states? I’ll be yer best friend!!

Bloody Hell...

2006-10-19T23:27:00.000-04:00

I'm getting to be a slack tart with this blogging caper huh. Must have something to do with my parents stealing my spare time over the past week or so. Bloody things have had not only me but my sister Lesley sewing them a stinking banner for their Fishing Club. Buggered if I know how we got roped into doing it. Cunning old cows they are, the pair of them. And what a freeeaking nightmare it started off being, we both were up til 4.30am the first night trying to make their vision come true. In the end we decided to bugger off with their vision and went with ours. But what can yer do eh, after all they did supply the sperm and the egg that got both of us here in the first place.

While waiting in the Telstra shop yesterday I was behind this woman who had a dreadful skin disease, both her arms, hands and legs were alternating between whopping big scabs and pinkish skin. Some parts were bandaged, alas some parts were not. Maybe she had been burnt, dunno. The horrid part was her fingernails. Some were long, some were not, all had been filed and shaped. It was the filth encrusted beneath these nails that made my stomach curdle. I mean come the fuck on if you are gunna make the effort to have them long, consider scrubbing those talons clean of the muck and filth that inhabits them. Ugh now I'm thinking about her touching my food with them.

548 bucks later The Blue Hornet has been pink slipped, insured and registered for another year. Yay the Hornet. Will make selling it a better prospective when it comes down to it.

Ditzy at work did not mention THE wedding once last week. Might have had something to do with her eldest son being hospitalised after his semi ran off the road and hit the only tree available on that stretch of road. Truck is a total write-off and nearly so was he. Going by the photo’s [yep there were photo’s] he is an extremely lucky, lucky man. What once was a long nosed cab is now a snub nosed one.

For a minute there I thought maybe one of my dreams had come true. When leaving for work the other day Friar-Fuck was playing in the back of a rental truck. Unfortunately he was unloading more belongings not loading them. Curses! He seems to be staying for a while longer. I watched him yesterday as he manoeuvred and then chained a trailer to a tree outside his flat all the while thinking frig is he putting it in my turning space...the space that I need to get into my carport in one foul swoop. I detest the man. Can you tell? I’m pretty sure he can.

Time to get back to finishing off that stinking banner. Joy.

Look at me, look at me, look at meeee...

2006-10-11T09:56:00.000-04:00

Made these tonight.

Might just chuck them at my sister, see if she can sell them at her street stall later in the month.

Tra la la la laaah...

2006-10-10T04:14:00.000-04:00

Another Tuesday Day Care bites the dust. Had eleven of the beastly things today. I can see I'm gunna have to get mean and scary to cull some of the attendee’s out. I'm sure I can work up enough spittle to let fly while mouthing said meanness. Would just add to the look I reckon.

The volunteer turned up to call bingo today...the reason why she wasn't here last week was because she was away attending a bloody wedding. Yep another frigging wedding was rehashed in all it's flipping glory..."the bridesmaids wore blah blah and gee they looked nice then we blah blah"...I mean fer fucks sakes I don't even know these newlyweds and even if I did I couldn't give a rootie patootie what they bloody wore. When she wasn't specifically talking to me about it I snuck back inside and left her and Ditzy to outdo each other in the retellings.

Aww I'm feeling somewhat sad for Friar-Fuck. Yeah not bloody likely, little twerp. His missus and kid went home this morning. Thank bloody kerrist really. Every five minutes that front screen door was either slammed open or left to clang shut. Holding the fucken handle and controlling its operation is not part of their door opening/closing ability. Nor is shutting the hell up. I tried to get into my stealthy paparazzi mode when witnessing a shirtless F-F but damn him he either moved too fast or was looking towards my window. I need to invest in some of that film for yer windows...where you can see out but they can’t see in.

They’re funny buggers at BlogMad aren’t they.

Hmmm now which number do I guess, eeiney meeney minie mo for the record I picked #1910...I was wrong. Bastids.

** My bad, I should have mentioned for the Blogmad uninitiated the surf bar should be like this...

I knew once Ditzy propped in...

2006-10-04T07:18:00.000-04:00

my doorway I was trapped. For fucks sake please do NOT be telling me about your daughters recent bloody wedding and all that it entailed again. No matter how I tried to subtlety [shut up. I can be subtle and I do have to ~~use~~ work with her] hurry her up, she never missed a beat. I even turned back to my computer work several times but noooo she just kept on going. I mean wtf is that like. Talking to someone’s back. Eventually I got up and went out for a smoke, yes with her following but I figured I might as well be enjoying the outdoors, with sunnies to mask my uninterested eye expressions while she prattled on. You just know I can't wait for the eight thousand wedding photo's to be developed. Thank buggery the mums with their babies came in for the fortnightly baby health clinic for then she scuttled off and left me alone.

I have to admit I was rather happy that the day care volunteer didn’t turn up on Tuesday...she is one I can only take in small doses. I mean just shut the fuck up already. I probably wouldn’t mind her polluting the air with her yap but it’s the same fucking yap Tuesday in Tuesday out. Bragging on her kids [who incidentally are three of the rudest little pricks out] OR her illnesses [yes I know you have had a rough trot] OR “my man”. I bloody hate that expression from her the most...MY man. Girl you can frigging have him don’t reckon there’d be many if any wanting to fight you for him. Now really. Turn it up!

I shudder to think this was the same volunteer that mentioned about coming up and visiting with me. In my home. I mean no. Just NO. The only reject I want in my home is me. My father used to wonder why I am the way I am. Pretty much the antisocialist of the family. It’s because people insist on sucking my sunshine away. Granted, not all people, just 95% of them.

Had the fortnightly shopping trip into Blahyah earlier. Nice to see that the assorted bum cracks and muffin tops are out and about again. Makes me want to raid my nine year old niece's wardrobe as payback. I am now convinced that there is a certain area for Blahyah's misfits to congregate. It's at either side of the pedestrian crossing in the middle of the main drag. Today must have been the mutant ninja aborigines turn to claim the space. Usually it's the junkies, so was a pleasant change of scenery.

Oh and my ~~vagina~~ Ring-dang-Doo [why did I hear that freaky frog ring tone when I read that from jwrone] told me to thank you all for it's birthday wishes. Sooo Thank You!

Yiiip...just one more workday in the week.

It's official...

2006-09-30T10:03:00.000-04:00

I have possessed a vagina for forty one years.

Yip bloody ee.

Annnd the wheels on the bus go round and round...

2006-09-26T01:54:00.000-04:00

Round and round and thank fuck that they do. Today was oldies bus trip day, I love the fourth Tuesday of the month. I’d almost give the bus driver a headjob for taking them away for the day...but it would make them late for their outing.

I so hate having to raise my voice at people, especially when I can't slap at them as well. But raise it I did when yelled at by the new meals on wheels recipient. He’s deaf. Well I gather he is when he yells “I can’t HEAR YOU!!!!”. Get some fucking hearing aids then you grouchy old prick. So much for confidentiality when the neighbours can hear us. Not too fussed on him...smelly old goat. Although he did make me grin on the inside last week when I asked how his meals have been...“I’ve enjoyed every toothfull”, then he yelled at me again so I stopped the inside grinning and went back to the smelly old goat thought.

I managed to not only avoid the vision of Elation [the community nurse] knuckle deep in her nethers this morning but also managed to avoid her “she’s touching meeee” fingers. Ditzy and her sister Mitzy tried to trick me into walking past her office while she was fingering herself. But I was onto them. Alas I missed Elation giving Mitzy a hug. Pity I didn’t miss the sight of her stained granny pants when she sat on the steps having a smoke and coffee...her zipper was still undone. I didn’t tell her. Mitzy did, hence the hug.

And here I thought, today was gunna be one of them days when I made eye contact with Friar-Fuck out in our respective carports this morning. HA!

Dunno what got into me last night...

2006-09-20T12:36:00.000-04:00

But I was positively smiling at fellow shoppers...and no ye bunch of rotters I'm not talking about my snarly bared teeth smile either. It was genuine smiling. I even did it at the shopping challenged shoppers. You know the ones, them that just drift over to the shelves whilst their trolley stays in the middle of the aisle. I can honestly report that I didn't bounce any of the four trolleys I came across like that outta the way once.

Fuck! How good am I aye? Go on, tell me how good I am! I need the validation. Well occasionally I do, usually I just don't give a bugger what yers think. Ha!

But yes, I was the one with the happy face smilun at the toddlers propped up in the trolleys...well except for that one kid I pulled a face at him, don't ask me why I just felt like it at the time. I believe it helps them to be wary of strangers when you do that. Consider it a service I am providing. Free of charge.

And may I just add Woolworths it was a pleasure to use yer rejuvenated trolleys...not once did I have to fight the thing to steer it...I fairly breezed along. Corners. Ha...what bleeding corners. No lower back ache. I almost felt like doing an extra couple of laps up through your aisle's just because it was such a novelty. In hindsight I should have because I had to wait for my sister to finish her shopping for what seemed bloody aaages.

The only monobrow moment I had was when hitting the birthday card aisle. At first I thought some reject had gone along and turned every mother loving card back to front...all I could see were rows and rows of white with the hallmark logo. WTF. And here I was having to pick out not one but two cards. Pick a spot, pull out card discover it's not worthy, return it, pick another spot ditto...ditto...ditto.

Well I soon got tired of that so when I spied a staff member crouched down further up the aisle...as if the cow was trying to hide from me...I strolled on up to her and asked what the deal with the card section was. "Oh we're doing a stock take, you can turn them around now"...so I did. Well not all of them just the one's I had looked at. Eventually I scored the appropriate cards. One has a dog with it's gob open as if its feral like with the caption It's your birthday...couldn't you just pee from the excitement. Yep okay the fourteen year old will like that. The other is a Stevo card...okay that takes care of the ten year old he's a dead keen [no pun intended] croc-hunter fan. Frig I hope it doesn't make him cry. Naah. He'll be right.

My sister and I done did something tonight that we have never ever done in all our shopping together history. We actually went inside Kentucky Fried instead of waiting in the drive-thru. Shock horror. Yes, well the long arsed line and us not being able to see the menu board did decide that one. For the life of us we don't understand why the menu board sits a fair bit ahead of the order box. You can't read the fucker. Why don't they have one before the squawky talkie box. I'm pretty sure that would speed up the line some.

Ahh wicked wings I do so like yers, three fer a buck 95...I can dig it.

Yeah, get fucked Tuesday...go on, piss off.

2006-09-19T07:16:00.000-04:00

But wait, it just wasn't any normal Tuesday Day Care no, no, no it was also Annual General Meeting Tuesday. To be followed up with Normal Monthly Meeting Tuesday. Oh tha friggun JOY. Yes, my consolation is thank buggery I won't have to sit through another one of these annual general's ever a-bloody-gen. Well not with this mob anyway. Now, I just have to get through our Planning Day tomorrow and I am somewhat in the clear for the "yearly" crap...I hope. I swear I will be happy just being a lowly shit-kicker in the States. Yeah, I know, I say that now. From what I hear shit-kickers at Walmart are not exactly decently paid.

I'm so much nicer and deal better when on the chouff.

Case in point...I doubt I would have been as fed up and short with the trusty volunteer driver when she knocked upon my door last night at seven-thirty. She left with a "sorry to bother you!"...which in turn made me feel like crap for the rest of the night. Alternating between muttered "well fuckit, I’m tired of that shit” and “she didn’t deserve that attitude of mine”.

We got it sorted today whilst waiting in the slack-macs car park for our chocolate sundae wanting passenger...me apologising. again. heh don't tell me I don't know how to say sorry...but daaamn that was a strained car ride into Blahyah for the above meetings. I'm glad we did. As she is a good stick but just doesn't realise that she is not the only townsperson to bail me up concerning work and transport needs on my time off. I spend the first couple of days off trying to forget about work crap and the last day steeling myself for the return to it.

I love country towns, I just never, ever want to work in the same one that I live in. Ever. Again. I’m just not cut out for it. Especially in this field of aged care and all that it entails.

On a perkier note, I received my tax refund without any hassle. Just in time for it to be swallowed up next month with The Blue Hornets registration. I was hoping to be gone before it was due again but tis not to be. Now, let’s just hope it passes it’s pink slip roadworthy inspection. Gooo tha bluuue hornet.

Some day’s I detest being a law abiding non-chouffing citizen.

Oh well, soon thy will be done.

Nothing makes me more antsy...

2006-09-13T01:04:00.000-04:00

than an immigration lawyer that makes a "few" mistakes on your application papers. Twelve, yes twelve errors. Although I do believe he was sucking up to me by having me born in 2005...but imagine the immigration dude's disgust at finding I am a married one year old and has consummated the marriage many times at that. I often wonder if it's his fuck-ups that is prolonging this. Hmmm.

Seems that I have a contender for my relief. The doctors receptionist has expressed interest in the position. Not to me but to the centre's helper, who passed the information along. Could work. Need to think on it a bit more. Now, I know the girl hasn't got the best reputation around town but hell as if I care that she bangs and blows like a dunny door in her personal [well not so personal.heh] life.

My brother has returned from a trip down to the big smoke...and has no doubt returned with some good smoke. I will have to avoid him. Attitude and...bloody hell I can't think of the word I'm looking for, this never happened when I was chouffed up. Attitude and lack of resistance [that'll suffice] being what they are.

So this is Wednesday, done and nearly gone. Yip.

Another Tuesday bites the dust...

2006-09-12T04:28:00.000-04:00

And curses I had to call stinkun bingo. I swear [well yes I dooo] I age six months each time I have to call those bloody numbers. My nightmare is, the only job I will qualify for in yankytown is as a bingo caller. Ohh wouldn't that just be topppps. "Hello my name is _ _ _ _ _ and I call bingo".

18...one eight, the amount of times Wrennie has whinged so far.
24...two four, the size of wood I am gunna use to whack Zola with if she interrupts my number flow for the umpteenth time.
73...seven three, fer the looove of gaaawd set me freeeeeee.

They were all happy little campers with their craft activity...as they damn well should be. Although their enthusiasm might, I say miiight have had something to do with the bloody big hurt-me-quick stick I had in my hands. Will post some photo's of their prowess with the paintbrush next week when we put the finishing touches on them...yeah I know, you's cain't waaait for them, but yers are just gunna bloody haftah.

Mind you, I found out the one I did as the example had been dropped by one of them envious old tarts and the bit's got broken off...aren't they horrors! Luckily I took a of it before I left it in their jealous dropsy hands. After re-looking at it I could use some re-schooling in painting myself, just quietly. I was tempted to put The LFB's thong pic in the frame but thought naaah that would just git their lechy dried up juices a flowing. I clean up enough after them, let alone cleaning those puddles up.

When I dropped Large Marge off she said "I love YOU" naturally my reply was "yeah, yeah Shut It and get outta my car Old Lady"...naaah I didn't, I told her I loved her as well. Twas the highlight of my day that was.

Ahhh thank bugger tomorrows Wednesday.

Here I sit...

2006-09-10T00:05:00.000-04:00

putting off getting stuck into the white powder. I don't wanna! I wail in my head but I know I must.

The old tarts craft activity calls for it...*siiigh* why do I come up with these brilliant ideas...what?? do I forget that it is moi who has to execute them or something. There are days I wish my oldies were from the 'less with it' crowd, that way they'd forget that they'd already done whatever they've done and we could just repeat the same one's.

I know, selfish and somewhat mean but hell never professed that I didn't possess these two traits.

Have been playing hang-out-the-clothes-then-bolt-out-and-bring-them-back-in when it starts to rain. Fun game that...you should try it. Never did get the Good Dick to hang my dryer, not like I will bother now either, beings I hope my time here is on it's last legs.

Spent some time last night grimacing and yelping in the bathroom. No I wasn't looking at myself in the mirror. Yep waxing I was. Been waay over a year since I've done so...good to feel it hasn't gotten less painful. Thought I'd better start getting used to the process again. Next step will be toughening up my nipples, preparing them for the Little Fat Bastid; to be pulled, tugged and tweaked on.

Yes, you can have that mental image for free.

Generous aren't I.

Sewing Nazi Stats...

2006-09-08T22:24:00.000-04:00

amount of times, I said shit, fuck and bastid after sticking myself with the pins = ~~five~~ six.

amount of times, I muttered I am. never. doing. something. like. this. AGAIN = three.

amount of times, I knocked the container holding the pins off the table = one.

amount of dropped pins scattered on my floor = twenty eight.

amount of times, I trod on a missed dropped pin that stuck in my foot = one.

amount of times, I said bloody oath I'm mrs clever clogs = two.

amount of times, I said carrap that's not straight = seven.

amount of times, I said stuff it I'm not doing it again = six.

amount of times I unpicked a line of stitch = one.

amount of times, I table surfed while trying to get a complete photo = five.

amount of times, I told myself that I need to fix that uneven table leg = four.

amount of times, I said once it's done, it's DONE! = nine.

amount of times, you need to click on the photo to enlarge the thumbnail below = one.

Jeesus Bloody Christ...

2006-09-08T03:46:00.000-04:00

must be our turn for deaths...another Australian "true-blue legend" Peter Brock has just been killed.

Oh and even tho I don't participate in the FOAD's in the blogging world...I would like to send one out to Germaine Greer for her downright fetidness concerning Steve Irwin's death and her thoughts on the mourning Australians as being "idiots". You can just fuck off and die a bitter and twisted lonely death...I can see that being a distinct possibility as I'm sure you won't be receiving the many tributes and outpourings that he has. Snatchface!

I was woken this morning by a knock on my door, now usually I ignore these and don't open mainly because, well, you know, I generally dislike dealing with people and all . Then I heard the familiar voice of a volunteer driver speaking to my neighbour Doug asking if he‘d seen me. Thinking it would be better to deal with him now rather than have a return visit later I. I opened it and subjected him to the morning glorious me, in my frog print jarmies, hair askew and accompanied by my morning breath. Heh. That'll teach him!

Half an hour after his departure there was another knock. WTF. What's today? knock on Catweasel’s door day or something. I opened it to find nobody there. But I did see Friar-Fuck looking out at me from his flat opposite. So with a scowl and a hiss in his direction, I closed it. No, I know it wasn’t him playing funny buggers as the voice I heard just before the knock was female.

Well, it’s the first of my four days off, no plans except prepare the craft activity for my old tarts and perhaps the meal run on Monday, depends if the usual deliverer is back from his week away or not. Naturally, I am hoping he is back in time to do it.

I need to shake myself out of this period of bleughness. Wish I was stoned...or at least stoning the unwanteds encroaching into my personal space, and with bloody big rocks.

Maybe it’s time to make another start at finishing off the old tarts wall hanging I mean it‘s not like it hasn‘t sat here for over a year waiting to be completed...and just because I can, here’s the patch I did...

Bloody clever ain’t I. Shut up if you disagree. I think I need to add a couple of birds flying away to it, that way I could also add a drizzling bird turd on the scarecrow’s hat. hmmm.

An intervention order may be needed...

2006-09-07T10:44:00.000-04:00

I have had a...

2006-09-06T09:22:00.000-04:00

right cuuunt of a day.

I absolutely despise meetings and I despise them more when they are sprung on me in a phone message left late the day before. Never mind that I had my workday pre-planned. That's right I keep forgetting, I'm just the shit catcher that has to juggle all my turds to accommodate the blazer and scarf wearing brigade that streamed through the doors.

Chaired by the larger than life El Fabulouso one. Fuck me. Fuck off and go spread it someplace else. This little black duck with the increasingly bad attitude is finding it harder to listen and watch you exert your greatness amongst other greater souls. And I’ve only met you twice, oh my what an impression you have left. I wonder if I can sue you for the loss of teeth enamel that I ground away today.

And you, you religious blindsiding bitch don't think I am going to make your working life easier. Yep that’s right come across all goodness and light in the pursuit of offloading your residents onto me. Not like I haven’t got enough to do for my own on those days in question.

I wonder if I will be the first Coordinator in this area to go postal.

I dedicate the following photos taken today on my way into Blahyah for the fortnightly shop to you and YOU...life in the Australian bush.

*if need be...click on them to enlarge*

I can not wait until I can hand in my resignation. Please let it be soon. I don't know how much longer I can take this shit. Knowing full well that I will just have to suck it on up. Not like I can do anything about it, but vent it here.

Alrightee then...I so look forward to our next little get together in November.

No not really.

Bloody Hell...

2006-09-04T01:06:00.000-04:00

just heard that crocodile hunter Steve Irwin...is dead!

"THE Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin, has died in a freak accident after a stingray barb apparently went through his chest".

damn that's gotta suck.

Meh...

2006-09-02T21:08:00.000-04:00

Blah. Blah. Blah. Bleugh.

The End.

Yesterday I resisted the urge...

2006-08-24T22:22:00.000-04:00

to exit my front door with my pissy pants on to kick the loudly idling trail bike over and beating it with my shovel, I rang the real estate agent instead. Put in a formal complaint about F-F and his equally noisy cronies...fat lot of good it will do but I did feel somewhat better bitching "can ya hear this" and holding the phone out towards the noise. "I've been listening to that for at least fifteen minutes and don't get me started on the noise from the three vehicles and one quad bike that are currently housed here". She'll talk to her husband Nincompoop Nick to see what can be done. I know fuck all will happen.

And really I will just have to suck it up, the possibility of having a black mark for assault on my record for immigrations background check would not bode well. So instead I placated myself with visions of sniper shooting F-F off his trail bike as he went noisily down the road. Then I put a note in his mailbox telling him..."As a considerate neighbour, you suck dead kangaroo balls".

Oh well anyway eh...won't be forever.

I went out earlier today on an errand for one of my favourite old tarts...donuts and her Friday paper. Fuckit if the paper don't come out til 1pm so I'll be having to nip out later on. Decided that I will wait til after I have rang the Little Fat Bastid that way I will also drop into the Club and buy another six pack of Southo. Have I mentioned how much I despise not being able to smoke a few scoobs, certainly was cheaper than the frigging six packs at seventeen bucks a pop.

I have this habit of holding open doors for anyone behind me or in front of me. Today it backfired when the person I was holding it open for walked smack bang into the side of it. After she rebounded off it she said she couldn't see it was open due to the sun..."well there goes me good deed for the bloody day".

Yesterday I had the proof that indeed "I am a star"...it was stamped on my hand by the teller at the credit union. I received it after counting my banking correctly, something I have not managed to do in the past two weeks. Dunno where my heads was at then, but it seems I have got over it...hence the stamp.

Been spending some time playing online bingo...yes I know, STFU. It passes the time.

I've grown to dislike some of the useless chat that goes on...always love the GBU's [god bless you] coming from those who had just character assassinated someone [they don't know] in the room for simply not answering a question that was put to them. For all they know that person wasn’t watching the chat going on. But when one of them typed in they're just ignorent...twice. I couldn't resist typing, maybe so but perhaps they would know how to spell ignorant.

I dunno, today I'm feeling that I can tip either way...pissiness or not.

Guess it’s time for some bingo.

got nothing but toejam

All about pee.

Now is the winter of my discontent.

*checks the date*

My Oh Bloody My.

Long time no Bloggie!

Relations and other Irritations.

Death and other cat-as-trophies.

He’ll never be eligible for Mensa.

Well crud.

FuckMeDead what a weekend.

I feel like I should be saying I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Egg rolls and toothbrushes.

So here I am with a spare moment up my sleeve.

*holds a mirror under my nose*

Piss Off I have the LIFE NOW!!

“Hello, is LittleFatBastid there?”

Seems so much has happened, yet not really.

MutterBitchandMoan.

Well what do you know??

My favourite so far.

What’s been going on with mah bad self?

Having a FIGJAM! moment.

Reason #202 why I married the LittleFatBastid.

Smootch My Snootch # 3...[I think]

Reason #631 why I married the LittleFatBastid.

A day perhaps more a week in the life of Me.

Well would you look at what the cat drug in!

In nine more days.

Normally.

Sometimes I think I must be a fickle piece.

Use yer imagination.

I feed off people.

Yer know I think I’m really funny in comments.

We Shall Remember Her!

Ol' McShanon had a bleeding farm.

Arhaaaah!

Now, I dunno if its all this communing with nature bizo around me.

I had to go vote today.

There's a whole lotta dobbing going on!

I'm a potential DogKiller.

Living the Good Life!

I bet yer didn't know...

Heaar Yeee, Hear YE.

And a good time was had by all.

Smootch My Snootch! [#2]

Picture Me!

Was it only yesterday that I was marvelling over myself?

I think I’d like to be poked in my numbed fanny.

A picturesque post...Prepare yeself.

Yeah! Happy 15th Birthday Heathen!

Please tell me yer "playing" when you say you can't remember where you parked the car?!!

I’m so Haappy to be Back!

Can it get any worse?

The Fuck word and I, are well acquainted.

Bugger me the good things just keep on happening!

"How to say I love You on this Valentines Day"

When yer not looking, shit happens.

FOYDC

Can you snort sleeping pills?

*Repeat to myself*

Dope fiends and a cock or too.

Smootch my Snootch!

Highlights/Lowlights of My Weekly Life...thus far.

Various Hell's and Damnations.

I feel the need, the need for a seeing-eye-blog.

Criminal background checks and lying about my whereabouts.

No good deed goes unrewarded.

Stoopid wall-hanging!

I desire minions, not opinions.

I'm a Believer...

Reason # 527 Why I Married The LittleFatBastid.

YaaaaY it's over...

Oh my weekend is was complete...*squeal*

3.7 something kilometres...

Aww I have a neeew friend...

I am going to refrain from...

HeeHeeHeee...

Oh how I love thee.

Every now and again...

checks the date

holds a mirror under my nose

Repeat to myself

Oh my weekend is was complete...squeal