Monday, June 22, 2009
He’ll never be eligible for Mensa.
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards
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3:04 am ::
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Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Egg rolls and toothbrushes.
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?Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards
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6:35 pm ::
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Monday, August 13, 2007
Well what do you know??
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Soo. Back To Me Now
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4:09 pm ::
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Monday, June 11, 2007
A day perhaps more a week in the life of Me.
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards
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Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Well would you look at what the cat drug in!
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Habits Quirks TMI and
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Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I feed off people.
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards
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Sunday, March 25, 2007
Now, I dunno if its all this communing with nature bizo around me.
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Toejam
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Saturday, March 03, 2007
Was it only yesterday that I was marvelling over myself?
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
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Soo. Back To Me Now
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Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Yeah! Happy 15th Birthday Heathen!
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Toejam
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Monday, February 26, 2007
Please tell me yer "playing" when you say you can't remember where you parked the car?!!
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
9:12 pm ::
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Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Various Hell's and Damnations.
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Soo. Back To Me Now, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
9:12 am ::
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Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Criminal background checks and lying about my whereabouts.
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Soo. Back To Me Now
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
2:50 am ::
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Wednesday, January 03, 2007
I'm a Believer...
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Soo. Back To Me Now
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
9:41 am ::
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Monday, November 27, 2006
I am going to refrain from...
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
12:08 am ::
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Sunday, November 12, 2006
Every now and again...
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?Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
7:40 pm ::
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Thursday, October 19, 2006
Bloody Hell...
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.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
11:27 pm ::
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