Friday, May 30, 2008

My Plan...

I had lunch with hubby today.

I told him my Plan.

And he agreed to it.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

A Fractured Fairytale...

He messaged me yesterday morning. At twenty past five.

It woke me up.

Him: You lied about your slut shirt and your intentions on what your plans were after the pub crawl. Don't tell me you wanted to work things out. Drugs alcohol and tarting around seem more important to you than your Family.

(NB There's a bit of a story to the 'slut shirt' that he mentions. I was at work the other week talking to my boss J and Robbie the House Elf, also known as the Maintenace Guy. I made them laugh with some Quotes I'd made up. One was I'm Not A An Alcoholic. I'm a Drunk. Alcoholics Go To Meetings. The other was An Orgasm A Day Keeps Depression Away. They were funny in context to what we were talking about at the time. J and I like wearing 'drinking shits'. Funny shirts with slogans on them. I told I should get my slogans on a tshirt. She told me Kritter makes tshirts using a computer program and she told me she'd get her to make me one. To cut a long story short; she did make it for me. It Just Happened that J brought it into me at work the same week that Pubfest was on. Hubby saw it in the plastic bag and pulled it out before giving me a disapproving look. Obviously he doesn't think that having an orgasm a day is beneficial to One's mental health. Anyway I digress...)

I contemplated being snarky; I was going to write "So your Sister let you have your phone back, did she?" but thought better of it. So instead.

Me: Wrong on both counts, Your Honour.

Him: You had me believe you were going back for a BBQ after the pub crawl that was never your plan and said you wouldn't be wearing that shirt which you had especially made to go out with in after.

Me: I did go to a BBQ.

Me: And this isn't about a fucking tshirt.

(NB I Did wear the shirt; but it was underneath our Pubfest shirts, that were part of the twenty dollar ticket to Pubfest. For twenty bucks we got to ride the bus between Pubs, a tshirt and a beer cooler. They were all identical white shirts with the Pubfest Logo on it. I wore the 'slut shirt' beneath it and only took the Pubfest shirt off for a photograph. Hubby is adamant I wore it all day and won't believe otherwise.)

I went to Education Day at little Son's school after lunch; I was barely listening in assembly as I was texting hubby.

Me: So much for love it doesn't cure anything.

Him: Take some blame yourself u can't help losing your temper.

Me: I was defending Myself from being called a liar. Now I know how Tania Zaeta felt. And I can't live with someone who can't trust me x

There's been no reply...

Later; after I knew he'd be in bed...

(NB I hadn't even been drinking. Eldest Son's girlfriend came over for dinner and I drove her home; so I'd remained sober even though I had a fridge full of piss. And really wanted it.)

Me: We are both fuckups. We have to both think hard about what we want. U know I'm missing u and hope we come out the other side of this together x

There's been no response.

Saturday I'm going house hunting. You All might recall from my comments that the house is across the road from my Mothers. I'll give it a look. We had to move out of this house within the next twelve months anyway. Then he can come back to This house and I'll make a fresh start. In six months or so we'll have miraculously changed into better people and h'll start sleeping over on weekends. Eventually he'll move back in. He'll be different and we'll fall madly in love again.

Don't mind Me.

I'm just keeping the Fairytale Alive...

Monday, May 26, 2008


It would almost be funny if it wasn't All so fucking depressing.

I went to Pubfest on the weekend; with my boss J, her hubby T, their daughters Moo and Kritter and their partners, R and S. It had been planned for weeks. Hubby knew I was going. He didn't like the idea from the start.

So we traveled by train; to the first of seven pubs, in six hours. Two cans of VB. Fifteen schooners of VB. Six Vodka jelly-shots. Marry-joo-wana later. Midnight. I slept on a mattress in the spare room at Kritter's. Woke up without a hangover. Drank three Vodka's before breakfast. Drove at lunch time (sober by then) to collect little Son from Grandma's.

Came home. Laid on couch.

Then hubby came home. Notice that he's still in lowercase?

His bags are still at his Mother's but he's still here at home the majority of the time. He left of his own accord, again, last Thursday night. Rang me up while I was the trivia with Fido and the Others. I'd gone down because we were fighting. About Tania-fucking-Zaetta of all things.

Everybody know who she is? A B grade television host. But Good luck to her. I don't know why we even even arguing over something so stupid. For Those who don't know the story I'll be brief...

There was a news story on TV about her being told. She'd been accused of fucking Australian soldiers in Afghanistan and felt that it had harmed her reputation. Reasonable thinking, if it was slander. Hubby was mouthing off in his usual commentary style. Because He knows best about everything. He could see she was 'lying and a slut' because he could 'see it in her eyes'. I disagreed. Asked him to keep quiet so I listen to her side of the story; which She would Surely know better than hubby, right?

He doesn't appreciate me ignoring his Wrong Opinions. Takes it as a personal affront if I'm more interested in hearing the actual Witness's account of events. So I had a shower, got dressed and asked him if he would 'crack the shits' if I went down to the Trivia. Fido had already texted me six times asking me questions (I Google the answers for him if I don't know them; is that cheating?) so I figured I'd have a better night down at the Pub than sitting on the couch in stony silence with Him. He told me I could do 'whatever the fuck I liked'. So I did.

Anyway; it was about nine when he rang me. Told Me, calmly, to get home because he had packed up his bag and was leaving me again. Told Me to get home otherwise he would be leaving little Son there alone until I got back.

I told him I'd be there in five minutes. And I was.

There was no argument this time from either of us. Little Son was still awake and I didn't want to start. And to be honest I was glad when he drove way; even though I knew he would be back. I called his Mother to let her know he'd more than likely be staying there the night. We discussed him for ten minutes. Spoke about him wanting to leave his job and go work in Pilbarra (which is Literally as far away from Me as he could possibly get) which he told me he wanted to do. Spoke about him Admitting finally to being depressed and wanting to go on Prozac because he's not coping with life. Spoke about how toxic Our relationship is.

Friday morning I texted him. Told him I didn't understand him. That he either Wanted to work things out. Or he didn't. And to make up his fucking mind. He took half the day off work. Went to the Pub and got shitfaced. I stayed home for the night (as I was going to Pubfest in the morning) with little Son. Then I got a phone call. From him. Or so I thought.

It was Lil K. She's my mate Mac's niece, for those of You playing along at home. She's pretty cool, I like Lil K. She has Man-troubles with her Ex and a two year old daughter. She has a few issues but I know she looks up to me as a big sister of sorts. And I'm not paranoid in any way that she might fancy my hubby; just in case You All might think that this is heading that way.

She was ringing to see if I was home; basically to see if she alright to borrow hubby's car in return for driving him home, as he was too drunk to drive back to his Mother's. I know he only wanted a bed for the night so I said yes. I don't want to be held responsible for him driving drunk or crashing. Even if he didn't get hurt he'd go to jail if he gets caught again for the same offenses. Call me a softie if you like; but I'd rather that than have him get behind the wheel when he's pissed.

So Lil K drove him here. She came in to say hello to me and played with little Son on the computer while hubby and I had a chat in the kitchen.

I hadn't been suspicious At All. I didn't think I had a reason to be. Then hubby starts telling me what Everyone at the pub had been saying when he left with Lil K. Especially Twink; who apparently inferred that they would 'stop off at the park' on their way.

So it got me to Thinking. Which isn't always a good thing.

What would have made others think That? What behaviour or words had They witnessed to come to That conclusion?

Anyway; I know it wasn't coming from Lil K. She seemed embarrassed to think anyone might even speculate her having a Thing for hubby.

No. It's Him. Trust Me. He's hell bent on proving to me that other women(even my friends) find him desirable. He carried on for a good hour about what Twink had implied, and quite frankly I was sick of the conversation before it had even started. He thanked me for letting him sleep here the night and then promptly crashed out in My bed with little Son.

I slept on the couch.

Saturday morning he left early as he was working. I got myself and little Son ready and took him to Grandma's then left for Pubfest. We were at the Junkyard (Pub) when he texted me.

Him: How r u goin

Me: Second pub six schnooners at junkyard

Him: At mums for t Sister will be painful

Me: I know I'm missing you too

Him: Luv u

That was at 3:38 pm...

Then; at 5:26 pm...

Him: U still alive

Then; at 5:29 pm (when I didn't message back within the allotted three minutes allowed)...

Him: Fuk you then

Me: What's all that about did I miss something?

No response. Until 6:37 pm...

Him: First u ignore me then you lie to me thanx

I can't remember what I wrote but I would have been protesting my innocence.

Him: Stop bullshitting me

After that we stopped texting. As usual I was flabbergasted and can only surmise that he was angry that I was at Pubfest with people he doesn't know; up to god-only-knows-what.

In the morning I woke up and cracked a Vodka cruiser. Then I texted him.

Me: I did nothing. Which hubby are you today the paranoid fucker or the hubby I love

Him: I'm goin the markets with little Son and mum

(NB I took this as a concession that he wasn't planning on being the paranoid fucker I had just called him)

Me: I'll be back by 12 x

(NB You All can take this as meaning that I was saying I loved him and thought he reaslised he had been a paranoid fucker and was willing to discuss his irrationality the night before. I guess I was being a little hopeful).

When I got back to his mother's he had left to pick up his car from Twink's. I drove home with little Son. He called just as I was pulling up into the driveway; said he was staying at the Pub for a couple more beers and asked if we needed anything besides toilet paper at the shops. I took this to mean he was planning on staying. I told him I had to go out in the afternoon to pick up some stuff for tea, and that I'd go to the shops if he preferred (he hates going to the shops it makes him nervous) then half fell asleep on the lounge watching Hawthorn getting smashed on TV.

I heard him come in but didn't really respond. I heard him wandering around the kitchen and going in and out the house a few times with little Son but I didn't think much of it. Then he came in and woke me up.

Told me I was a liar. That I hadn't stayed the night where I'd told him I stayed (at Kritter's).

I told him that wasn't true.

He asked me who Kurt was. I wracked my frigging brains. I hadn't stayed the night at someone's house called Kurt. I hadn't even met a Kurt.

He told me he'd seen the messages in my phone. It clicked who Kurt was.

Krit. He'd read it as Kirt.

My friend Kritter. That's what her Mum calls her.

The dyslexic Prick.

I tried to explain it was just Krystal's nickname but he still wasn't having it. Told me that ninety nine percent of things that came out of my mouth was bullshit. I asked him to fuck off if that's how he felt because I was sick of justifying his lies about me. He left. I texted.

Me: You are an A grade wanker and u r wrong. Grow up.

No response.

Me: Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you or is that just more bullshit?

Him: I don't know.

Me: Work it out then and let me know. Please?

A few hours later he rang; said he was too pissed to drive back to his Mother's. I picked him up. Still hopeful I suppose. I don't even know why. I went to the shops and got dinner. Cooked it. Then copped even more shit.

He says he doesn't trust me. Doesn't think he ever can again after what happened between me and Kiwi. He knows whaty I'm like and how much I can bullshit' to my friends and family. To our kids. To him.

Monday I went to netball after cooking dinner. I play with Shaz; who is Mac's girlfriend. She's getting used to me telling her I can't play when hubby is at his mother's house. I'm letting the team down when I can't play every second week when he has left me. I went to bed when I got home; next to him- but for all it meant we may as well be an ocean apart.

This morning; I woke up and took little Son to school. I came home and heated a can of soup while the computer started; ate it. Put my Writing Coat on. Started writing this story. The phone rang.

It was him. Telling me he was leaving work after only half a day (again) and that he was planning on going to the Pub. I went down; met him. Had a beer or three.

We started fighting. About Pubfest again. He still didn't believe I slept the night at Kritter's. I guess he'd rather look like a Fucktard than admit that he is Wrong.

We had a screaming match at the Pub; in front of Grassy, Fee and M the Publican. Afterwards (he left) they all said they would have a go at him for being a cockhead. I collected little Son and drove home; splurging on lamb cutlets for dinner on the way home.

Twenty minutes later...

Him: How come you have to defend yourself with aggression

(NB I thought that was fairly obvious, when you are under attack that is what happens)

Him: Sounds like bullshit to me.

Me: Everything that comes out of your mouth is bullshit

Next thing I knew I was at home; little Son and his mate Jai were playing in the backyard. Then hubby pulls up in his car. I know I screamed at him in front of them. I know I yelled and slapped him in the face and told him to Fuck Off. And I know I lied when I said I wouldn't miss him or want him back ever again.

Then He sized me up and punched me in the face; not badly but I have a shiner. Little Son burst into tears when he saw. I told him to get out. And Fuck off back to his Mother's. For Good. This is where we are at as I write.

I don't want him back. This is killing my kids.

And me...

He texted...

(NB Just when you thought it was Over)

Him: You fucking dickhead you just lost everything

Me: Add it up; you've lost little Son, eldest Son and Me. We've only lost you.

(NB he also tried calling a few times but I hang up every time I realised it was him...)

Me: Leave me alone I'm busy sucking cock like the liar I am.

Him: How dare you u are crazy


Him: Have a nice social life.

Me: Enjoy Edgeworth (his Mother lives in a suburb called Edgeworth)

Him:You gutless liar


Him: Why can't you see that You're the aggressive one?

A little while after that his Mother turned up to collect his work boots and clothes.

I admit I cried...


It's finished.

I'm fucking Done.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

I Got Over You...

Well I never saw it coming
I should have started running
A long, long time agooo!
And I never thought I’d doubt you
I’m better off without you
More than you, more than you know
I’m slowly getting closure
I guess it’s really over
I’m finally gettin’ better
Now I’m picking up the pieces
From spending all of these years
Putting my heart back together
‘Cause the day I thought I’d never get through
I got over you!!!

Lyrics by Chris Daughtry

Thursday, May 22, 2008

This Heart Attack...

I’m going away to be alone I’m coming back with answers
Don’t try to call my telephone it’s disconnected
And I don’t know where I’m going but can you guide me
But if I find love where I’m going will it survive me
‘Coz in your own space you’re disconnected and in your own mind you’re not affected
And in your own time you’re still attracted but in your own life

This heart attack I’ve gotta get away not coming back
I want some downtime so call me when you can and I’ll be fine

I’ve found the time to be alone I don’t know what you’re asking
I’m waiting by the telephone and you’re still barking
My heart stops it isn’t going could you revive me
I think I’m lost without knowing so come and find me
‘Coz in the same space we’re disconnected and in your own mind you’re not attracted
But in your own life over reacted and in your own time

This heart attack I think I’ll go away not coming back
I’m off the line so call me when you can some other time
This heart attack I’ve gotta get away not coming back
I want some downtime so call me when you can and I’ll be fine

Sometimes if we don’t go sometimes you don’t know
You don’t go I don’t go I don’t go you don’t go
I’ve got your back but you don’t got mine
This heart attack then I’m feeling fine

This heart attack I’ve gotta get away I’m not coming back
I’m back to flying so call me when you can some other time
This heart attack I’ve gotta get away not coming back
I want some downtime so call me when you can some other time

I’m going away to be alone
I’m going away to be alone
I’m going away to be alone
I’m going away to be alone

Lyrics by Faker

Monday, May 19, 2008

You'd Better Be Home Soon...

Somewhere deep inside
Somethings got a hold on you
And its pushing me aside

See it stretch on forever

I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
Thats why I tell you
Youd better be home soon

Stripping back the coats
Of lies and deception
Back to nothingness
Like a week in the desert

I know Im right
For the first time in my life
Thats why I tell you
Youd better be home soon

So dont say no, dont say nothings wrong
Cos when you get back home maybe Ill be gone

It would cause me pain
If we were to end it
But I could start again
You can depend on it

I know Im right
For the first time in my life
Thats why I tell you
Youd better be home soon
Thats why I tell you
You'd better be home soon

Lyrics written by Crowded House

Dry Days...

The Big Question...

"You mentioned that you used to drink up to 3 litres of wine a night, and that you have cut down somewhat. First off, what prompted you to do it? More importantly, HOW did you do it? And lastly...are you happy with the amount you drink now, or is there still work to be done?"

The Big Answer...

It was New Year's Eve 2004. I was smashed; sitting with Hubby at the last pub before home. I remember telling him how my kidneys ached every morning after being on the piss- three litres a day gives them a fair workout after all- and telling him that I didn't want to sit on the lounge night after night writing myself off for the rest of my Life. And I think Just Saying That Out Aloud to Myself was the biggest catalyst of all. I'm one of those people who hate to say they're going to do something and then Not do it.

I'd never even "said" I was going to cut back before. And my Hubby was suddenly paying attention to what I was saying. He has a drinking problem too (don't tell him that, though) but nowhere near the extent of mine. I drank through both my pregnancies (although to be fair, so did He lol) and have been an alcoholic since I was seventeen. And I'm not cured; I swore that New Year's Eve that I wasn't going to drink Every day and I don't anymore- but I still drink way too much to be considered healthy; and now I have other substances I regularly abuse instead. I get antsy when there is no beer or wine in the fridge, or heaven-forbid no pot; it's a Lifelong crutch and I can't imagine ever completely giving it up. I'd fall off the wagon for sure- so to avoid complete failure I'll never take that step.

So; I told my Hubby I wanted to cut back...

The first day was easy- I was hungover, coming down and sick as a dog. My aching kidneys appreciated a day off. Day two I was already over my Resolution- wishing I hadn't made it. Wishing I hadn't voiced it within earshot of my Hubby. For now he was watching- though as he hadn't made the same commitment (and was on holidays from work ) he happily drank without me. I was short-tempered and agitated for days while I semi-dried out; I wanted to prove to Myself I could last a week without a drink. So I got Myself a calender and started marking off my Dry Days. At the end of the week I celebrated with beer; but it was a turning point. I Could go without drinking- I didn't like it and I hated having to listen to my own inner-voices about how crappy I was feeling and how worthless my Life was- and I was actually disappointed in Myself that I hadn't managed to stay sober for longer.

Then Week Two. I might have had a beer or two, I can't remember now- but every dry day I had, I ticked off on my calender; and the days I drank Anything At All I circled. For the entire year I ticked and circled days- I remember at the end of the year I had forty five circles- only forty five drunken days out of three hundred and sixty five. I was pretty pleased with Myself- and celebrated in style New Years Eve 2005.

It hadn't been easy; I limited what alcohol was in the house. And I compensated by smoking Marijuana- effectively trading one addiction for another I suppose- but at the time I guess I thought pot was never going to be a problem. That was my Hubby's vice; not mine! Funny that now he's lucky to have one cone a week- and I chugg down up to thirty a day(NB I'm cutting back on this as we speak; by not smoking through the day until After four o'clock and limiting myself to three a day; small steps- my kidneys might have stopped aching but my lungs weren't thankful for me cutting back on the drink!).

I'm still drinking too much these days. I haven't used the Calender-Method since I cut back so much that first year. 2006 saw me drink most weekends to excess and since cutting back on the pot I've found Myself sneaking in a six pack of beer or bottle of wine some weeknights as well. It's not enough to get me drunk and hungover; I'm still a seasoned drinker and can out-drink most men I know- and I'm not bleary-eyed and half-drunk when I turn up for work or when driving my kids to school. I like to think I've beaten the Need to drink everyday; but I still love being drunk. My Mother tells me I'm only 'irrigating' my problems when I drink to excess- but it means so much to me socially that I know in my heart I will always have a drinking problem and will drink to excess because I basically can't decide to stop after only one or two.

To those who also concede they have a problem I'd offer this advice...

Don't set yourself unrealistic goals. Have that drink if it's the only thing that's keeping you sane and don't beat yourself up if you have one too many. Try and realise what's making you drink; write it down if it helps. And praise yourself for small victories- remember it's one step at a time with these things and a set-back doesn't mean you have to fall back into your old ways.

And Finally; don't take up other addictive substances...

It only prolongs recovery!

(Hope that answers your Question, Miss...hope you have a good Easter!)

Blood On The Woodchips...

I don't have time to blog tonight...I have to write a letter to the Council after the bastards cut down the Gum tree out the front of my house.

I got home from work today only to find it already chopped down to the stump; they hadn't given us any prior notice but after the job was done had stuffed a note into the letterbox; and I'm shitty as the tree was actually healthy; about twenty metres high but not near any powerlines or in danger of falling down. Well; theoretically it might've fallen on my house in a major electrical storm- but I was willing to take that risk.

It also had a family of Ringtail possums living in it (they're not as common around my area; unlike the bigger Brushtail possums) and a pair of Galahs that have nested in a tree hollow- breeding- for at least the last five years. I reckon the Possums wouldn't have survived (being noctural creatures they were probably asleep until the chainsaw cut into them); and the galahs were left stranded, sitting on the stump this afternoon- hopefully they didn't leave behind a clutch of eggs or babies this morning when they left(as it's still early in the breeding season).

Both are protected species- but not from the local council it seems. And that tree kept my house and car cool in the Summer- it's going to be so hot without it.


Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Because judging from the mess they've left all over the road they probably went straight to the closest Council-owned park around here and scattered my tree around the swings and other playground equipment.

Let it be known- there's Blood on them those Woodchips...

Text Wars With Twinkle Toes...

Twink: (who was sending me the phone number of my mate John the Painter; who has just been given the all clear of Leukaemia after getting it fifteen-or-so months ago; His bone marrow transplant was successful! Yay John!)

"!@#$%^&*()'s the number Dribble Tits."

Me: (Who's been out of credit until today- so could not text back at them time. Instead I silently laughed and fumed at the same time until I could exact my revenge)

(Then this morning after I pick up my new Nokia phone)

"Dribble tits hey? "

(NB I'd wanted to say more but was having trouble working out my new phone and pressed 'send' before I'd actually finished directing my insults at him. But Before I can respond again he sends this back...)

Twink: "If you could call them tits at all"

Me: (Gnashing teeth slightly but grinning wryly at the thought of comebacks I shall exact...)

"Well said; Seeing as u r the authority on tits after all. Just b warned I have 999 letters per sms and plenty of credit with which to bombard you with long-winded insults"

(NB In reference to Twink being an authority on tits; he himself has a B cup and put mine to shame. The sad thing is we are both jealous of the other's tits; he because he wishes his were smaller- and me because I wish were mine bigger...)

Twink: "I have 1000 letters unlimited credit more brain cells so bring ur A game"

Me: "Bring it on Fingersmith"

(NB: Twink and I have a long standing feud on the word Fingersmith. If you want to know why comment and let me know and I'll tell you all about it; but it's a very long and ultimately uninteresting debate we have about the origin of words- he thinks he knows better than me and he doesn't)

Twink: "No ur a druggie bitch :)"

Me: "Fair call; I am having a hot one as we speak. Form your own conclusions. Try Hard."

(NB Hot ones are cones for the unenlightened...)

"No need to try how many times do I have to tell u I'm a champion?"

Me:"Too many times let it be known you are the official Non-Champion-of-the-day. Well done Fingersmith!"

Twink: "Stick two fingers ur no wordsmith"

Me: (NB I can't actually remember what I wrote back to him at this point; as I was now stoned and deleting them as I went. And Not because I don't want anybody to see them- because they are always mindless drivel; though I'm Curious with Myself now for pointing that out...)

Twink: "Making it up as you go, a sign of very bad form"

Me: " So what do you do then- you telepathetic genius- make it up the night before? Maybe you are god afterall as you claim"

Twink: "Bout time u became aware of my talent don't forget again u buffoon"

Me: "Google That god!"

Twink: "Google crashed when I entered it guess that's what you get when you listen to an arts grad"

(NB Twink did a semester of a Science degree; back when Adam was a boy...)

Me: "Touche Douche"

Twink: "I win"

Me: "Only cos I'll let you"

Twink: "Now Now"

The End.

Or is it...

Wednesday, May 7, 2008


Am I really what He says I am?

Am I a Friendless Slut?

A Wannabe Victim?

Am I supposed to admit Truth to these foul accusations?


There were some pretty harsh accusations flying around tonight...

So I looked in the mirror and saw the truth as I believe it.

And this is what I saw.

Yes, Sister; I go out a lot on the weekend because I'm a social creature who needs and desires the company of others. And when I go out my kids stay with their Grandparents and always have a great time. I'm happy they have four Grandparent's who would do anything for my children. My own Parent's helped me raise my eldest because I lived at home with them until he was almost three years old; but even now they ask to have my children most of the time merely because they enjoy their company. They take them away on holidays when they go- holidays I can't afford, living paycheck to paycheck as we do.

And I'd rather get a babysitter for my kids than sit them on the step of the pub with a packet of Twisties and a Fire Engine. I was- and in all likelihood still am- an alcoholic but the demon drink doesn't consume me every day like it once used to. Once upon a time I used to drink three to four litres of cask wine Every night and then sleep my hangover away the entire next day. I could function to the point of getting my eldest Son off to school with a packed lunch and then I would set the alarm for three so I could wake just in time to collect him before starting all over again. It was a waste of about seven years and the absolute worst ones of my life. I nearly threw it all away- in more ways than I care to recount; but I won't be going back there any time soon- I can assure you of that.

So I moved onto Other Things; things which for the illegality of them I'm loathe to say too much about. When I fell pregnant with my little Son I slowed up a bit- never giving up completly mind you; because even though I wish I could say being pregnant was enough reason to quit my addictions- the loneliness and depression I felt while pregnant with my second child was often hard to bear. My Hubby was of minimal support- I felt like a leper in my own home because I had chosen to keep the baby rather than terminate; when we were in a financial mess and with me unable to work because of my drinking and depression. It's not a justification of how fucked up my life was- it's just how it went.

So I deferred University for the second time and had my beautiful little Son in 2002. I stayed home because I am lucky we can scrape by on one income and the Government Support being part of this country says I am entitled to receive. And I loved having my little Friend with me all day- even in the beginning when he would sometimes cry for hours upon end and then wake- just as soon as I lay him out of my arms.

Tonight- I'm accused of raising one child who no longer wishes to live with me and of raising another with a behaviourial problem. What I see are the two loving and giving children that I brought into this world.

My Eldest is exceptionally intelligent and giving; only he and I know the true depth of our bond. I'm so proud of the way he's fought for me and worried for me over the years. It should never have been his burden and yet in many ways I rely on him to be my rock. He wants me to be happy because he loves me; I feel his heart when he frets about the fights that his Father and I have around him and his little brother. It's not fair but I still know in my heart he wants to stay living here with us- if only to keep his eye on me. He's taken on that role of Protector because he's a true Leo and he'd never desert me. Because he doesn't have the same opinion of me as some of the Others. Unlike them- he doesn't think I'm a waste a time.

My Littlest is going to have some learning difficulties; we've taken him to an OT just this past week and they've identified that he has poor fine motor skills and is more of a visual learner than somebody who can take exact directions to complete a task. I'm glad we've identified it before he just gets labelled as the Naughty Kid- or so my Sister put it just over an hour ago. I hope one day she can see him for the happy bright inquisitive boisterous little bubble that he is. His sense of humour he inherited from me; and that coupled with his Father's outgoing nature and good looks make him one of the most popular children I've ever known; both with adults and other children alike. He's only been at school six weeks and even kids in the higher grades greet him each morning with a friendly Hi Sammo. Everyone who meets him always comment on how happy he is all the time. He's cute even when he's naughty- and I love him beyond words. So would you.

I know I'm not the best mother in the World. I leave my kids at Grandma's on the weekend so I can go out with my friends to the pub and party- though lately we've been having more barbecues at friend's houses than anything else because they don't have a curfew in place and we spend less money on booze when we bring our own. My reason is that because I'm still young-I'm only turty tree and a turd remember; I still enjoy these nights out with my mates drinking hard and partying all weekend long. I'm a Mother- but that's what I do.

But I also provide a roof over their head. I shop clean cook and wash for them and drive them to school and drama lessons. I was there for all their milestones and always will be- and even though I'm the first to admit I haven't always been the best mother I could be, I've always been the best mother that I could be at the time. I think -and hope- my kids have always loved me for being me. Someone, I admit, who can readily get the shits for no apparent reason and who can be quick to show her anger sometimes- but also someone who genuinely loves and cares for her kids. And I'm their Mum. I'm not so different from mine truth be told-though she would readily disagree with that statement.

I took the kids up to my Sister's Farm the weekend before last; Hubby came too and we brought Chopper along for the ride- even though he's socially inept on farms and not only nearly got stomped on by the stallion but tried to eat a chicken as well. This lays to rest my Sister's accusation that we never take the kids anywhere because we are too busy dumping them at Grandma's so we can go off to get 'wasted'; another example was just the weekend before that- we were at a barbecue with our little Son in tow while the eldest had a sleepover at a friends. She doesn't know about my life so she makes assumptions about how I live it. If I can't get a sitter- when the Grandparents are away- we either take little Son with us or stay at home to mind him ourselves; eldest Son is fifteen and able to stay home a few hours by himself now. And they've both rarely been to the pub except for when we are picking up their Father- a fact I am proud of given my alcoholic past.

This brings me almost to conclusion...

I looked in the mirror tonight Sister, like you asked- and had a good hard look at myself. And the truth is that I like what I see better than what used to see staring back at me for the last fifteen years of my life. I'm not in denial about who I am.

I am a part-time working, full-time Mother who has a history of drug and alcohol abuse. I've been to Psychologists who've never found anything wrong with me; in fact they've often gone on to say that I am, in fact, too personable to be crazy. And personally, I think I've achieved a lot in the past two years; from finally graduating from University after nine years to getting back into the workforce after fifteen. I still love to party but I've cut back dramatically; where were my concerned relatives when I was drinking myself to death on the couch every night?

Why are they only worried about me now that I've finally turned the fucking corner?


Last night I had the following conversation with my Hubby...after admitting to having McDonald's for lunch.

Hubby: Geez you live the good life don't you? I get up at five thirty in the morning to make myself three salad sandwiches.

Me: And I take you to work at ten past six. Anyway; it doesn't take forty five minutes to make three sandwiches. I make sandwiches, too, you know. It takes two minutes to slap on a piece of ham or cheese.

Hubby: That's just bread and cheese then.

Me: Well I don't NEED ham tomato cucumber carrot beetroot butter and cheese just to make a sandwich.

(NB if even just ONE of these ingredients aren't in the fridge he won't make his gourmet sandwiches- he'd rather go without and buy his lunch at work because to him it won't taste any good)

Hubby: Your sandwiches are shit compared to mine.

(NB This is true.)

Me: Well get off your arse and get a licence and you can drive through McDonalds any time you like, too.

(Then after watching him 'poach' food from eldest Son's dinner plate to go on his own)

Me: That's fucked. Don't do that.

Hubby: Well he has more than me and I've peppered it now.

(NB He'd actually taken the wrong plate; his plate originally had more on it than eldest Son's but he was too quick on the 'take' for me to point out which dinner was intended for him...)

Me: You've peppered the kitchen bench more.

Hubby: How do you know it wasn't eldest Son who did it?

Me: Because he doesn't use pepper- and because it resembles the three pepper squares you leave on the bench after making your three salad sandwiches every morning.

(I then ate most of my dinner- giving Hubby a small piece of my chicken schnitzel before intending on finishing my jacket potato with sour cream and salad- which Hubby also snaffled up before I could say a word. I left him to rinse both of our plates; as he was the last to finish with them...)

Hubby: I cleaned most of your plate up already. Why should I wash it when it was yours?

Me: Because I gave you that bit schnitzel- but I don't remember giving you the rest.

His face was priceless; and He was speechless!

TMI Tuesday On A Monday...

1. Have you ever orgasmed sitting at your computer? What was the situation?

I'd love to say that someone- anyone- was also there with me. Sadly I can't. Plus there are too many times that I have orgasmed whilst sitting at the computer to count- and hence I cannot single anyone of those times out to embellish upon further...


2. Ever been sexually harassed? What happened?

Yeah; when I was working at the Racetrack as a Strapper; the young stableboys used to get me to clean out this one randy horse's stable. His name was Best Benny (the horse) and he would always try and mount the girls while the boys made sexual comments. Another time one guy told me to 'put the horse in the stable so he could fuck me'- and I also had a problem with my boss at another job (he was 33 I was 17) trying to grab my tits all the time. Lucky they are small and he never got a hold of them...

3. Who is your hottest nerd crush?

Rick Moranis.

No- Bill Gates. At least he's rich; I'd shut my eyes...

4. Can a man have multiple orgasms?

Give him a minute...

5. Is there such a thing as too much sex?

Yes- when you're rubbed red raw it's time to Stop!

Bonus: Have you had sex in the last 24 hrs?

I wish. Me and Hubby fought all weekend. Maybe tonight!


Today- in particular order- I woke at ten past six, lit a cigarette and drove the sixty kilometre round trip to take my Hubby to work. When I returned- at seven fifteen- I packed my little Son's lunchbox for school and washed up last night's dishes. I stripped little Son's pissy bed and made my own, put on a load of laundry and got little Son's breakfast.

Later,I got him showered and dressed and then drove him to school before heading off to work for three hours; where I cleaned seventeen hotel rooms and made eighteen King-sized beds. Then I drove M home- where we watched a Jennifer Anniston midday movie for half an hour- and then we went shopping together to pick up stuff for dinner. I dropped M up to her daughter's school, took my groceries home so the butter wouldn't melt; gave the dog a bone and put on another load of laundry.

Then, I drove to little Son's school, collected him- and then did the sixty kilometre round trip again to pick up my Hubby. When I got home I took out the rubbish and recycling, hosed out the bin, hung out the wet washing and folded the dry stuff( except for balling the socks; my most hated job), marinated the pork spare ribs for dinner and washed, peeled and chopped the vegetables for tea.

I made little Son his dinner of salad and hotdogs, put on extra vegetables for Fido (who is going through a hard time after breaking up again with Miss Fancy Pants)- washed up again and ate tea. Fido called to cancel so I counselled him for twenty minutes- I got the kid's their bowl of ice cream, had a shower and read to little Son for about half an hour before he went to sleep in his nice clean sheets.

Last, but not least, I watched TV, tooled about on the computer, cleaned the bathroom basin and toilet, straightened the loungeroom and went to bed, too tired to even give my Hubby the head job I'd been planning on...

In the morning I'll do it all again- except that I have find time to go to the bank somewhere in all that lot as well.

Who say's a House-wife does fuck-all?

I'm the Ringmaster of this fucking Circus!

Baby Bland...

Mr Husbland and his wife Lex have had a baby boy!

My first 'blog baby'!

Top that off with Alex and Suze getting engaged and we have a week full of bloggy-firsts for Buffoon!

I love Blogland, too, Miss U!

Happy To Be A Scrubber...

So I realised I wasn't cut out to work in the Takeaway Shop From Hades...

Then- somewhat out of the blue- my friend Bbbb turned to god and began attending a weird church (which expects her to wear a massive hanky on her head for their 'meetings') and got dunked in a giant font. I went and saw her and her husband get baptised- in an attempt to 'support' her new Self- but it played on my mind hard. I mean, I've been best friends with Bbbb for twenty eight years and never known her to be the religious type; and now she was standing in front of this god-Squad Assembly confessing to a drug and alcohol addiction she never had. I mean- it was only the occasional bong and beer for F's Sake.

It also pissed me off that Bbbb had failed to invite me to her wedding a few weeks prior to the baptism- she said it was for family members only. Which was why it was so hurtful when I later saw the photos. All her new Churchie mates had scored an invitation while my good self and 'proclaimed' best friend- and even her own Aunty Joan- had failed to make the cut. Needless to say it hurt. And I'm still not over it; the Lindt chocolates she gave me for Christmas last year remain untouched. I guess I'll get around to throwing them away soon.

Bbbb knew I was looking to get back into work; so when her church was looking for a part time cleaner she threw my name into the hat. It was only going to be for three hours a fortnight; fifty dollars in the hand. I told her she could give my number to the minister and waited to hear back from them. To cut a long story short; they didn't.

Fast forward a few weeks and I received a phone call from a man named Alan. He told me he got my number from the Minister of the Weird Church after mentioning he was in the hunt for a cleaning lady- at his elderly mother's house. Her name was Lorna and she was in her eighties; and Alan had recently moved in with her again after she'd had a fall. It was only a small two bedroom house so I accepted. We arranged I would clean once a fortnight on the Monday; and so I duly turned up the following week.

Alan gave me a quick tour of the house as Lorna was in bed, resting. I cleaned the bathroom first; working out how to clean the commode-chair for myself. I know it might sound silly but that commode-chair soon became the reason why I knew I wasn't meant to work as Lorna and Alan's cleaner. I just didn't think I could happily face every second Monday knowing that was what I had in store. So even though I went a further three Mondays to Lorna's house to clean I already had it in my mind that I would look for something else. I wouldn't have had the job very long anyway, if the recent SOLD sign on the house had anything to do with it. It seems Lorna must have passed away, around Christmas time last year.

Cleaning was still a good option, though; it fits in with the kid's school hours which means I can be there with them before and after school without having to rely or pay for sitters or afterschool care. And while I may have a degree I flinch at the idea of working in an office environment. I've tried it before and know myself well enough to know how bored I get. And if I'm bored I won't go. So I'd rather not set myself up to fail in a job I'd hate.

This pisses off my Hubby and Mother because they want me to earn a decent living; and somehow they both fail to see that Any work is a step in the right direction for me- being as I've been out of the workplace for fifteen years. I'm sick of the argument they have; so what if I COULD be earning sixty grand a year working at the Tax Office or it's equivalent? You wouldn't know it to look at my recent resume but I've always preferred it when I Do work to be doing something physical and if possible 'outdoorsey'; I was a Racehorse Strapper in the Buffoon-World pre-kids pre-alcoholism and depression life. And I loved working at Wendy's Ice-Creamery when I was a teenager. If you're not sweating you're not working. Besides, I don't like the idea of giving someone else the use of my brain for the day. And I would hate it if I had to 'take work home' with me for any reason- especially that 'office politics' crap. Me; I like to get my work done and go home. Or alternatively; the pub.

So I started scouring the internet and local papers for jobs. I did apply for one job in a second-hand book shop but never heard back- so when I saw a advertisement for a position as a contract cleaner with Dennis the Penis I gave him a call...

My job was to help people get their rental bonds back; primarily cleaning empty houses for a base rate of twenty dollars an hour. I took all my own cleaning equipment but the real benefit of this job was that once the job was over- no matter how disgusting it was- I never had to repeat it again- unlike my previous job of cleaning Lorna's pooey commode every fortnight. And if the house was too putrid I could walk away from it; though I only did that once.

My first house cleaning job for Dennis' company was for a young Law student named Allison. It was a beautiful apartment in the inner-city and would easily have set her and her (one)flatmate back at least four hundred a week. Pretty good student digs, I thought, as I swept up the thousand or so pubic hairs in the bathroom. I realised they must have had money to burn when I vacuumed up a red Ecstasy pill from the lounge room; too late- I would have eaten the thing myself if my reaction had been but one second slower.Still, Allison was pleased she didn't have to do the hard work herself, and better still was that I had eighty dollars in my pocket just four hours later.

The following week I cleaned a beautiful new house in one of my Town's best suburbs; the owner wanted the house meticulous for a photo shoot to display the Architect's design in a glossy mag. It took me (and another cleaner who worked for Dennis) seven hours to clean all forty two windows, three bathrooms, four bedrooms, chef's kitchen, library, gym room and billiard's room- but I came away from it with my hundred and forty dollars and at least feeling like I had worked hard for it.

Then there was Bebette's house. She was an elderly lady whose regular cleaner called in sick- so I was offered two hours work at her small unit. She followed me like a hawk; scrutinising my every move- even demanding to know 'What's In Your Hand' after I had vacuumed beneath the lounge cushions. She probably thought I had lucked on to a twenty dollar note or something- but it was actually a sandwich crust- at least three weeks old by the look of it- left behind she told me, embarrassed I hoped, after she had basically implied me to be a sneaky thief, by her grandkids.

Kath's house was an real eye-opener; filthy with crumbs and cockroach shit...

Chad's purple unit was pristine; and Adam's a delight. In fact the bachelor's pad's generally always were.

Then there was Ambrose. Dennis was suspicious of him right from the start- saying that from the sound of the house it was going to be in a real mess- and told me just to do my best. I collected the key from the letterbox and walked in- to utter filth. The furniture had all been removed so I could plainly see the inch-thick dust on every skirting board. The cupboards in the kitchen were full of bug and rat crap and the bathroom had to be seen to be believed- there was green and black slime everywhere. Every single wall- right up to the roof- was covered in black mould; and so I rang Dennis and told him I wouldn't be taking the job. It was the only one I shirked but can you really blame me? It would have taken a team of three or four industrial cleaners about a week to even make a dent in that pig sty.

I received my one and only complaint after cleaning Nathan's house; he had failed to tell Dennis wh nhe booked me that the house he was living in was partly furnished- and got quite irate when I failed to clean out the fridge, microwave and around the pots and pans in the cupboard. Hey- he only had to say. And I thought I did pretty well considering I was coming down and hungover from hell.

After that one complaint though, it seemed there was hardly any work and Dennis' calls became few and far between. I only got offered one three-hour job in the whole of November and December was almost as sparse. It was about then that I got a text message from my friend M- who works as a cleaner at one of the swankier hotel chains in Town- with the Summer holidays coming up many of the regular ladies weren't going to be able to do all of their shifts and still have someone to look after their kids- so I got the call up to do at least two shifts a week over the Christmas period and the promise that if I worked out okay it would lead to more regular work next (this) year.

So that's what I'm doing with myself these days; in case some of you are wondering where I've been lately. The extra money has been coming in pretty handy and it's nice not to have to ask my Hubby for fifty bucks if I want to splash out on something for me or the kids. It's been fun working with M too- since 'losing' Bbbb to the weird-arse church she's become my new best friend. I'm even going to be her bridesmaid when she gets married next year (and No it's Not to Golden Shower Boy- even though she was fucking him when I first met her; even she has no idea What came over her- no pun intended).

In short; Life is better than it has been in a long while. I get on well with all the other girls at work too, and even though I work damn hard for my little pay packet, at the end of the week I'm still WAY WAY happier being a scrubber than I ever would be as a pen-pushing career girl.

So my Mother and Hubby will just have to get over it, I guess.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

The Salmonella Shoe Shop...

The first thing I noticed was the stench of old rubbish- that probably had maggots residing within it. The flies were thick in the air and circling the roast beef that had been left- too long- on the bench. A caterpillar barely escaped the blade of the Kichenhand; from the unwashed lettuce on a putrid cutting board.

It's like nobody gives a shit about the chopping boards. Or washing their hands. There's not a spray bottle of disinfectant in sight and the hot water system is broken so you can't even hot-wash the filth from the scurge-soaked sponges. I toss them away when no one is watching...

mThe microwave is alive with spatters and crusts of god-only-knows-what. And my shoes will never be the same again after walking on the oil-slick of scum that is their floor. I wish I had the balls to call the Health Inspectors. I would- except they'd know it was me.

I wonder if they serve that slop to their own friends- they don't seem to have a problem serving it to unsuspecting customers? I'm not that desperate for a job that I'll stoop to working with grots. Sorry. But you know who you are.

I can't get rid of the vision of the chicken snitzel swimming in some sort of viscous liquid. Wash it; I was told. Wash it? Chuck it. The flesh disintergrates beneath my fingers; surely they weren't seriously going to cook it?

Slimy hotdogs should Never be microwaved and sold for consumption. And two day old warm milk should Never be replaced in the fridge. You grots. I could never work happily sliding around in your filth. I made people vomit telling them how filthy your shop and food were.

I felt embarrassed for my shoes- who the flies are still haunting.

I could never cook on that grill. I have pride in the food I prepare. I would never eat anything they sold- and it's week old stock and pick-up-off-the-floor-it'll-be-right attitude is not for me. The truth is I'm just not That desperate for a job. I don't care about mess and hard work but I have too much pride to work in filth and grimace through my nose.

The shit I had to pick out of my shoes. With a twig.

Poor broken twig. It never hurt anyone.

Mrs Crankypants And The Sausage Factory...

The following letter should explain why I haven't posted in the last few days.

I just sent this letter- as an email.

Names have been changed to protect the Innocent...

Dear Mr Principal

I am writing to inform you of my decision to cease Little Son's Kindergarten enrolment at Da-Diddi-Da-Da Infants School.

It is with much regret that I undertake this decision- my Eldest Son was a student at the school and greatly benefited from the 'small school' experience that Da-Diddi-Da-Da Infants School has to offer it's pupils; and as a parent I have found the staff always to be friendly and approachable.

Unfortunately, due to personal concerns relating to Little Son's learning and social abilities, I find myself in the position of withdrawing his enrolmemt- effective 6/2/06- and have consequently enrolled him at Da-Diddi-Da-Da South PS.

While I understand the need for Little Son to respect school rules and that to carry out instructions given to him are for the benefit of his safety, I have concerns about the way in which Mrs Cranky Pants has reacted to my Son- on more than one occasion and in my presence.

On only his second day-and admittedly after the running away incident- she told him he 'wouldn't be welcome back to Kindergarten' until he could learn to do what he was told- in what I found was an abrupt and angry mannner. I found this quite discouraging to tell a child this who was already unsettled and somewhat unhappy to be in unfamiliar surroundings.

Two views that she later expressed to me were that 'school is a sausage factory' and that 'all children should be treated the same' do not fit in with my belief that children should be treated as individuals with individual needs- and in fact goes against all what I believed Da-Diddi-Da-Da Infants School stands proud for.

This was after a discussion with Mrs Cranky Pants, on Monday in which she related an incident that had occured on Friday where she physically had to make Little Son sit on the floor with the other children and he yelled at her to stop hurting him. Mrs Cranky Pants thought he said this for attention but it is my personal opinion that he would have felt threatened and intimidated and as such will not have a relationship with Mrs Cranky Pants that will be conducive to a good first year at school- essential when he can neither read or write, is left handed and, I suspect, mildly dyslexic like his Father and Aunt.

When I tried to inform Mrs Cranky Pants of my concerns I was met with "he just needs to learn to listen". It is my experience that belief systems are hard to change.

This is by no means meant as a personal attack on Mrs Cranky Pants, and I do not wish this letter to be taken as such. I do, however, believe that honesty is the best policy which is why I have detailed the reasons why I think Little Son will benefit from changing schools at this time. I wish her and all the staff at Da-Diddi-Da-Da Infants all the best.

Should you wish to discuss this with me (for any reason) in further detail I may be contacted on !@#$%^&&.

I thank you for your efforts with him and wish the School well for the future.



What do you think?

Will I get in trouble for this?

Do you think I did the right thing changing my Little Son's school- just four days in- for these reasons?

Mummy's Little Helper...

So it's ten forty eight in the morning and my Nest is officially empty...

Mummy's Little Helper started Big School today. He looked so small in his grey shorts and crisp blue shirt; and as I put his oversized socks on his little feet I tried not to think about how by the end of the year they'll be a size too small. But that's just wishing away another year of my Life; something I'm often known to do.

I'm a little worried about how he's going to handle school; he only turned five last week and there are some kids in his class who are nudging six. One boy, who I'll name Hercules for the purpose of this story, stood at least a whole foot taller than my little fellow. A few of the Year One boys gave him crap about being in Kindy- telling him how they're the Boss of the kindy kids.

Fuck I hate kids like them. The sort of kids who rip off the little kid's lunches, I'll bet. Derro's. I kept trying to get my Son to come away from them but he was too hyper to listen. The Teacher is sure going to have fun with him this year.

So he lined up with the other Kindy kids and looked around for me but I'd moved from where he'd last seen me to take a photo and we didn't make eye contact again; no wave goodbye for Me as they headed into the playground for morning exercise. And he didn't get to see where I'd hung up his school bag. And I still hadn't bought him a school hat either- having just found out that the Uniform Ladies weren't selling the this morning. How dumb is that? I'm sure I wasn't the only Mother who had waited to the last moment.

I was...

So in the end I went to three different stores trying to find a maroon canvas broad rimmed hat. Do you think I could find one? A 'bucket-style' hat was all I could manage; which has me pissed off at Myself for making my kid the obvious standout on his first day of school. Still- I dropped it up at the school; I was probably the Only new Kindy mum who returned this morning- but cos they have a 'no hat no play' policy I'd rather his hat be different than have him sit out all of lunch time when he is just busting to get to play on that equipment in the playground. I think it'll come as a shock when he eventually realises he's going to have to learn to read an write also!

Now I'm at home again- after my mercy Hat-Dash to the shops. It'll feel weird for the first few weeks until I realise my Little Helper's not there with me to do the shopping or tagging along behind me relentlessly asking questions while I hang out the laundry. I'm shedding a quiet couple just thinking about it...

In fact; it almost makes me want to have another...

Shut the Fuck Up!

Oh No You Don't!

Twenty Eight Days...

Well it's now thirty days into the New Year and I just know you're all wondering how my New Year's Resolution has been coming along...

Pun Intended.

Have you ever specifically tried to have one orgasm a day; for the Entire year? I think I may have been a little over ambitious and perhaps should have opted to have an orgasm a day just for the month of January.

In fact that's such a good idea that's what I might do....

Because it was supposed to be fun Taking Up a habit as opposed to merely dropping a bad one. I mean, I could've aimed to stop smoking or biting my fingernails or something equally as constructive- but instead I chose what I thought would be the easier option. And where has that got me?

When I first told my Hubby about my NYR I think he mistakenly assumed that would mean he would be in for a lot of hard work in the sack. Not necessarily so. I've always had a stronger sex drive than my Hubby and have long been a strong advocate for self-lovin'. I'm also not ashamed to admit I've been going to great lengths to 'achieve' this feat of an orgasm a day, and along the way re-discovered videos and magazines I'd long since forgotten. I could bore you with the details but I'll spare you.

Anyway- it's hard work feeling horny everyday as I've found. And I'm sure I used to masturbate Every day before I put this darn great big expectation over my own orgasm count. I'm behind on the count (21/30) and don't know that I'll be able to get back into the swing of it now.

That said; I've foolishly decided to make a Resolution for February. Are you ready to fall off your chairs laughing?

To give up my 'party' drugs(pot,squares,roundies) And all alcohol for the month (Not including cigarettes -I'll save That resoultion for another month!)

Hey- it's the shortest month of the year; so it's my best hope...

But just to be sure I think I'll try for 28 orgasms, too!

Why not?

Damn You Blank Screen...

Axe Wounds And Bush Confidence...

Well Blogger's up to it's usual tricks and I can't seem to leave comments on anyone's blogs at the moment.

Maybe this is Karma telling me to blog, Myself...

Anyway- for want of a better post I'll take Enchantress' Challenge today and accept her Tag...

1. What's the strangest place you've made whoopee?

Considering it was also my first time- in a treehouse. Since then the most memorable spot was in the Rotunda down at one of our local parks on New Years Eve 2005/6

2. Name a part of your body you detest.

My breasts- they are way too saggy for someone who only breastfed for three weeks with my Eldest Son- and then managed only two days with my Little Son. My Hubby says I can have the money for a titty job but there will always be something other I would need to, or would rather- spend the money on than that!

3. What is your most painful childhood memory?

Being molested by my horse riding instructor when I was 13. He's dead now but if he wasn't I'm sure I'd still dream of running him down with the Bull Bar on my car.

4. Describe how you lost your virginity.

I had just turned seventeen and was in a treehouse. It was with my (now) Hubby on the first night I met him. I was holding my best friend Dano's hand- while she was getting fucked by someone else beside us. I know that sounds creepy- to have other's in the room on your first time- but it was actually quite sweet; my best friend giving me moral support!

5. Name 4 porno movies you watch over and over.

1. Bad Wives 2
2. Dallas Does Debbie
3.Ginger Snaps
4. The Horny Housewife

6. Name something you have shoplifted.

A pair of pin earrings from a store called Johns in the Mall, when I was 8. I didn't even have my ears pierced at the time though- so it was a bit of a no-brainer. I got caught and never shop-lifted again.

7. What's the highest your credit card debt has ever been?

I have hardly any credit limit but it's Always maxed out- still it's only $1500; so it's not so bad.

8. On a scale of 1-10, rate your self-esteem.

At the moment I'd say a 7- quite an improvement when had you asked the same question 12 months ago I would have answered quite honestly a 3!

9. Name a celebrity of the opposite sex whose bones you would like to jump.

Of the Opposite Sex you say? Pity- because Patricia Arquette would have been right up there with Gwen Stefani...

So I will have to say the guy who plays Captain Jack from the first series of the new Dr Who. Suze will have to help me out with his name. Failing that it's the actor who plays Mike Delfino from Desperate Housewives- mainly cos I met his 'twin' one night and the guy(his name was John)was super hot and funny- and thought I was too!

What a guy!

10. List a medical problem you had that you were embarrassed to talk to the doctor about.

I had an ingrown hair in my 'groin area' that eventually required surgery and seven stitches. My Hubby calls it my New Axe Wound.

11. When was the last time you voted and who did you vote for?

The Australian Federal Election. I voted Labour; and so does everybody I know- and yet John Howard still managed a third victory.

12. When was the last time you picked your nose? Did you get caught?

This morning. No.

13. When was the last time you farted?

This morning.

14. Women: do you groom yourself "down there"?

Yes; I have a landing strip but am bare underneath. I pluck my bikini line every day; which doesn't hurt as much as one might think.

I think it's good for a girl to have Bush Confidence. And No; I'm not talking about George W...

15. How much money do you make?

Fuck All.

16. How much money does your dad make?

Ask Professor Fuck. Cos Fuck Knows.

(Joke lifted from China Blue!)

17. Have you ever been so drunk or high you didn't remember what you did? What did your friends later tell you that you did?

Lots of times; but a recent entry would be just the other day; I was down at the Pub and apparently offered Myself as a candidate for President of the Fishing Club- and told them a vote for me meant a vote for Nude Beach Fishing Expeditions.

By all accounts it's going to be a Landslide Victory!

18. Have you ever had an abortion or paid for someone to have one? No

19. Was potty training easy for you?

I don't remember. Training my own kids wasn't.

20. If you could eliminate one religion from the face of the earth, which one would you pick?

All of them. Religion is the cause of All war; past and present.

21. Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight? What about in a sleazy dive bar?

Yeah- he was masquerading as my Bastard Ex...

22. Have you ever eaten a lot of junk food and then thrown it up on purpose?

Nope. But I did once throw up a seafood pizza after drinking copious amounts of beer. It was Boxing Day 1990 and I drank something like 60 375ml stubbys of VB in a 24 hour period ( I have witnesses to verify this gargantuan beer-swilling effort. This was the Minimum I drank that day- other sources have me drinking about 70!) My friend Dano took a hilarious photo of Me- I'm passed out in the bath- with one of my Sister's, my friend Bbbb and the skinny guy who always wore a Skid Row t-shirt that I've written about before. In it- I'm asleep, but still holding my beer upright...

After I threw up the pizza I kept right on drinking...

And I even managed to pull a root that night!

The First Amendment...

I should stop living in the immediate past.


It was supposed to be the year that Was- but now it is the year that just won't let you go...

My questionarre...

I need to amend it. Specifically question #40. The song lyric that best sums up the year for me is no longer from Pink's "You and Your Hand" but by a song written by Michelle Branch and accompanied by Carlos Santana.

This is the song that was playing on the night I broke up with my Hubby.I was sitting at the pub with my friend M- drinking Mud Slides. December 27th 2005. We got back together on New Years Eve but it was still the first and only time we have broken up in more than fifteen years.

Afterwards- and every time since- I listened to this song and realised that for better or for worse my life is with him...

I’m feelin’ the way you cross my mind
And you save me in the knick of time
I’m ridin’ the highs, I’m diggin’ the lows
‘Cause at least I feel alive
I’ve never faced so many emotional days
But my life is good
I’m feelin’ you
I’m feelin’ you

Pink still rocks; I'd do her!

What A Year It Was...


Here's an overview.

1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?

I'm a creature of habit. I rarely try new things. I do pluck my bikini line now, though- something I didn't do in 2005.

2. Did you keep your New Years' resolutions and will you make more for next year?

I think for 2006 it was to try and cut back my drinking. In all I drank on 46 days out of the year- but this was a vast improvement on the previous year where I was drunk on every night of the year- except for one or two when I was too hungover. I compensated with other drugs, however...

As for this year- I'm trying for an orgasm a day for the entire year. Going well.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

My little Sister had a baby girl on the 4th July 2006.

My best friend CC had a baby boy on October 3 2006.

Twink's "Sometime-Root" gave birth to a baby boy on Jan 4 2007.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Old Merley, my mate from the pub who I've been friends with for 15 years, died on April 6 2006 from Lung Cancer. He was 67 and the captain of our Pool Comp team; he was a father to Julie and Kathy; who both knew nothing of his illness until a week before he died.

My Sister and I howled at his funeral.

I miss you, You old Bugger.

5. What countries did you visit?

Australia. Oh hang on, that's Home.

6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?

A job.

7. What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

September 4th. It was the day Steve Urwin died. I cried every day for a week.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Personally I made a bit of a journey last year. A lot of it came about as the result of having a good close set of friends. I came out of my shell for the first time in years and decided that I liked who I was again.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Smoking too much marijuana and cigarettes. It costs a small fortune and is making me sick anyway.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Pleurisy and lung infections. I also nearly snapped my back in half when I face planted a wall while inebriated.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

I got lots of new things but my favourite is a pair second hand Levi's that I got for fifteen dollars at an Op Shop. My arse looks awesome in these jeans!

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

Mine. I was a paragon of goodness as always.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Golden Shower Boy's. Look up some of my archives if you don't know why.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Car repayments, rent and party drugs.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Going to U2.

16. What song will always remind you of 2006?

Body Rockers- I like The Way You Move.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: Happier or sadder? Thinner or fatter? Richer or poorer?

Happier. Same. Richer.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?


19. What do you wish you'd done less of?


20. How will you be spending Christmas?

My house with all the Fam.

21. Did you fall in love in 2006?

Yes; with my Hubby again.

22. How many one-night stands?


24. What was your favourite TV program?

Big Brother. I have to go on that show one day.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

Golden Shower Boy. Actually I've always hated him.

26. What was the best book you read?

The Lovely Bones; Alice Sebold.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Stone Sour- especially the song Through Glass

28. What did you want and get?

A new car.

29. What did you want and not get?

A four wheel drive.

30. What was your favourite film of this year?

Bad Wives Two. Nya Nya Nya.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was going to go to the Races but it rained so I had a party at my house instead- everyone bought their favourite dish they liked to cook and we had a feast, drank and smoked copious amounts and topped it all off with an acid and ecstasy spree.

I was 33. And should know better!

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

An orgasm a day.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?

Improving yet casual.

34. What kept you sane?

Jen Jen, CC, Miss Fancy Pants, M, Twink, marijuana

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I want Mike Delfino from Desperate Housewives.

And I Still can't go past Gwen Stefani for the femme fantasy...

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

America's handling of the war in Iraq.

38. Who was the best new person you met in 2006?

My newest friend would have to be Sloane.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006?

Don't take good health for granted and appreciate what you have every day.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I'm not here for your entertainment; you don't really wanna mess with me tonight

Just stop and take a second; I was fine before you walked into my life

Cos you know it's over; before it began

Keep your drink just give me the money; it's just You and your hand tonight!


And That's a wrap for 2006!

On The Steps With Milko...

Milko and I were having an argument the other day down at the Northo...

I haven't known Milko long. He's a mate of Macca's from the Fishing Club and is probably in his early forties. I think he went to the same school as Twinkle Toes. Anyway- I was sitting on the step because the acid I'd just dropped was kicking in. It was just on dark when I arrived- I'd been up at the other pub on the corner because the Jackpot had risen to almost five grand- and because it was an excuse to catch up with my friend M who I hadn't seen since Christmas Eve. Emma the Barmaid wasn't going to serve me another drink anyway; she'd been trying to catch me out being too off-my-face to serve me by deliberately mixing up my order of two schnooners of VB with two middys of New- and then get me to repeat the order while blatantly scrutinising my reactions.

But hey- like Twink said; she was only trying to out-intelligise Me. And she didn't stand a chance; poor dumb thing. I left anyway- knowing she'd served me the last one she was going to...

The Northo's a better pub anyway. The female Publican is in her sixties but she rocks. She lets us sit out on the steps with no shoes on and sells us take-away beers at five past midnight. She wouldn't do it for just Anyone either; we're priveleged because we are mates with Macca and he lives just across the road. M the Publican has known Mac for years- he tells us stories about how feisty she is though she's only about five foot nothing. One time she was being robbed by two blokes with bats and told the would-be-thieves to Fuck off over the road to rob the Servo- and said it so convincingly that they actually turned and left without a cent.

Needless to say; I like M the Publican a lot; but this story isn't about her.

Anyhoo; I was at the Northo, wasn't I- sitting on the steps, off my face, having an argument with Milko. Hubby was MIA somewhere with Fido and Twink and my phone had just flatlined. Macca and I were debating with Milko that a good head job was made even better when it's given by someone you love.

"That's crap" Milko said- or smething like that, at least. "The best head job I ever got was off Cheryl B when I was seventeen. Boy that girl near sucked the (add your own ingredient) out of me".

Me: "Well that may be so- but I doubt that was the best head job that Cheryl B has ever given. She would have saved that for someone she actually ended up caring about."

"It's just fucking Sex, Babe Ruth," Milko smiled."Nothing to do with love at all"

He still didn't get what I meant even though I explained it twice more to him. What's more; I felt sad for him that it had been over twenty years since this mind-blowing blow.

"The best head job I gave was the last one I gave" I told him honestly.

And what's more- is that I intend to only get better!

But what do You think?

Do you think you give hotter sex to Strangers or when you are in love?


I'm at a complete loss as how to describe my Christmas and New Year...but at least it's over for another year and my liver is still functioning.

There were some highlights...but they all involved the consumption of illegal substances- so I'm hesitant to divulge too much. There were also some lowlights...but these things only happen for a reason- or so I'm told. I think they'd make some great stories but I'm too lazy to start at the beginning and tell them properly right now.

I've been pretty slack at blogging for the past few weeks and am seriously starting to debate whether or not I should go through some of my old diaries just for some more material to post. And having said that I will turn to an old personal favourite of mine for when the old writer's bloc hits and do a TMI Tuesday.

Yes. Even though it's Sunday.

It's That bad.

1. Saddam Hussein - How would you have executed him? Cut off his balls? Cut off his dick? Other?

Am I the only person who Almost shed a tear for Saddam? I didn't- but I came pretty close. Not because he was a convicted murderer of thousands; because for That he probably Did deserve to die. I think what he did to his own people was repugnant but I would have left him to rot in jail for the rest of his life knowing he would never set foot outside it a free man again.

I feel saddened when any life is cut short by someone else. I feel saddened knowing that regardless of what he did Someone(presumably his family members) still loved him and would be devastated by his death. I feel saddened that his dignity was taken in death even though he gave his victims none. Why? Why do feel sorry for a dictator who murdered countless thousands?

Because I really don't know.

2. How would you rate your kinkiness level? Rated G? Rated PG? Rated R? Rated X? Details! This is suppose to be TMI! Tell me!!!

Honestly? Probably PG. I don't mind watching a bit of hard porn but I baulk at the kinkier sort of movies. And you can keep your golden showers, thanks. I owned a good vibrator but it's lived down in the garage now for at least the last six years- so I don't think it's going anywhere near down where it should go ever again. I'm not into other toys really either- Mother Nature gave me fingers for a reason.

And invented carrots for another...

3. Ever stolen something from someone? What was it? or... What would you like to steal? =P

Yes; a Sprite yoyo from a boy when I was in second grade.

4. Do you have a favorite porn star? Gimmie a link! ;)

Anyone know the name of the big-titted red-hed in the shower scene of Bad Wives 2?

Okay...Maybe I'm R Rated after all.

5. Death comes in 3 - James Brown, Gerald Ford... who's next?

It was Saddam. Or Paris Hilton.

Bonus (as in optional): New Year, New Beginnings - What is your New Year's Resolution? Did you bring the new year in with a bang? =P

This year I've decided to try and have at least 365 orgasms. That's one orgasm a day for the entire year for those of you playing along at home. So far I'm 7/365. My Hubby has been warned...

And is also playing along.

Happy New Year everyone!

The (T)ruth Hurts...

Due to a lack of blogging inspiritation I've decided (for better or worse) to post my Mother's reply to the below email.

Oh well; tomorrow is TMI Tuesday so I may have something better then. But until then- all names have been changed to protect the Innocent...

"Even if you or Hubby had provided any of the items you insist be “shared”, I would still not agree with your premise…either something belongs to a person, or it does not. And, if its given, it is up to the receiver/owner who can “share”. There is a perfectly acceptable computer available for an almost 5 year old to use…if you cleaned up a lot of the rubbish off it, it wouldn’t even be so slow. And, the reward of patience, is patience, something little Son needs a little extra of. And, so what if it takes up time to set it up…its not as if you have a lot to do…you find time to do puzzles, something I have never been able to find time for. You criticize Grandpa D for lack of “sharing”….tell me, what do you or Hubby “share”? as far as I can see, you don’t provide eldest Son with breakfast/lunch/lunch money….have you ever even bought him a pair of socks? And we wont talk about the (piano)concerts neither of you can bother to see.

You say he hasn’t said he wont “share” with little Son….have you ever asked him if he wants to? He hates it when you yell at him, he doesn’t handle conflict well…he gets a bellyache…, and, when you “share” he was very upset about the porn that was on his computer!

Little Son “doesn’t get everything “ you say? That’s not the way it looks….I never hear you say the “no” word to him….he certainly knows how to say it to anyone who wont give him what he wants, or he is asked to do anything/eat something that isn’t rubbish!. As for your “supervision” of little Son… asleep in bed, or on the couch doesn’t cut it! There’s a bit more to it than just being in the same house somewhere.

As for it being “up to me” where his computer is…I wouldn’t accept that it is my choice….surely its up to eldest Son?? And, if he wants it at home, surely its up to him to say if little Son can use it, not you! Little Son has the run of his room, his TV…puts food everywhere, picks up nothing, throws things around….just what does belong to eldest Son, can you tell me????


Now, dear Reader; is it any wonder that I know she thinks that I'm a failure?

And just for the record; I've cooked my kids a thousand hot breakfasts- yet can quite clearly remember making all my own school lunches when I was just five.

An Abridged Letter To Mother...

First- a short history lesson...

Some of my regular readers( all three of you) will know that I have two children; aged fourteen and four. The eldest is somewhat of a genius and good as gold; responsibilty is his middle name.

He saved up his pocket money for two years to buy this laptop I'm using right now; and my Mother gets angry and irritable every time I allow my little Son to use it. We have an old computer that takes up half the dining room table that she thinks I should set up instead everytime he wants to use a computer. Eldest Son has no qualms with his brother using the computer, either- for those of you who are wondering.

And little Son's careful when he uses it; he only uses Paint or goes to the Wiggles website. He's not a genius but he's far from stupid; and it's no wonder that he doesn't like going over to her house when she's become such a Nazi towards him lately. Here's the email I just sent to her after she cut short our call...

"What I was going to say before you hung up on me was that if Eldest Son's laptop is so precious that it can not be used by everybody under this roof(mine- where it's My rules that are the ones that matter)then it can be packed up and can stay at your house under your protection.

You mentioned Grandpa D and how he won't even let Eldest Son use his Precious laptop; that is typical of D; Hubby has always said that was one of the things that made his father a wanker- his incapacity to share his things. From guitars to laptops to steak. You know those people who gave their kids the fish fingers while they had Barramurrundi; yeah that was him. What a fine example for me to follow. No.

I'm sick of this argument. Littlest Son is allowed to use anything in this house-within reason and under supervision. He's never spilt anythnig on it and hasn't even caused it to crash- which if you remember correctly Eldest Son did plenty of times. Anyway it's up to you where the computer lives- but the computer is allowed to be used by everybody while it's here.

So get over it."

Okay- so I left the last bit out.

But what do you think? Was I being too harsh?

Goof's Story Part Two...

Goof and I drifted apart during high school- though we were still always friendly towards each other. We just weren't in the same group, that's all. She sat with the Cool Kids at lunch time- like Joolz and Reevesy. They didn't like Me very much; I don't wear the right sort of clothes and none of the boys liked me; just for a start...

But Goof was still my friend; she'd wave at me as I rode my crappy bike past her house every afternoon on the way to feed my horse- I think she even came with me for a ride on her one time.

After she did the HSC Goof moved away to go to University- but she never got her degree; she took up Heroin instead. I think she had always been depressed since her mother's death and saw it as an escape. She told me, many years later, that she was eighteen the first time that she ever shot up. And then she did it the next day. And the next. And that's the way it went every day; even on the day of her Lover's funeral three days after she found him slumped and alone, in the toilet dead, chin on his chest. Apparently he'd cut off his own air supply and had been too stoned to realise...

From what I can deduce, this is the Precise moment when Goof should have gotten the thought in her head to stop using the shit herself- this should have been the wake-up call she needed; losing her lover of four years to the same drug she's infatuated with. She told me once that losing him was the hardest thing she'd ever been through- but that still wasn't enough to make her seek help for her own drug addiction.

I'm the same. I probably won't get help until I'm forced to, either.

By the time Goof and I were organising the Year Ten of Nineteen-eighty-nine ten-year Reunion she had a well-kept secret habit of eight hundred dollars a week. She doesn't have a job but she has two inheritances to spend; her dead Lover's Life Insurance and a favourite Great-Aunt's legacy. It's just such a shame that she wasted it all on Heroin trying to escape her painful past.

I haven't seen Goof since a few months after the School Reunion was held. She slept on my creaky lounge for three awful nights and I watched on while she sweated and trembled and vomited as she tried to go Cold Turkey. On the last morning she woke up and begged me for some money for a taxi- which I Knew deep down was going to be spent on a hit of Hammer- and left; telling me she would be back the next day. I know I shouldn't have given her the money knowing that it would probably go on drugs- besides; I needed the money myself to pay for the back hoe to come and dig the hole in the ground that I was going to bury my horse in next week when she was getting put down- finally, because of her gammy legs...

As Goof left she gave me a swift kiss on the cheek and promised that she'd see me tomorrow. That was five and half years ago. I rang her for the first few weeks- up to thirty times a day- leaving message after message on her voice-mail- trying to find her- until she changed her phone number. I know. Stalker-Girl sux doesn't she?

But it wasn't about the money Goof. Never.

I just wanted to know that you were okay...

If I could tell her one thing- Today- it would be that I miss having her as my funny friend. I never judged her for her drug problem; just like she never judged my own drinking problems. And if you're reading this, Goof, then by now you'll know I'm a Pot Head as well. I want you to meet my littlest Son. And my eldest Son misses you, too. He loved flying kites with you in the Park and going for walks down past the Hanging Tree.

The last I heard was that Kahn had finally died- aged twenty one; that You had finally gotten your drivers licence- aged thirty one; and that you were in rehab getting shock therapy. Aunty Joan told me when I saw her at the shops. I just hope that you're alright now, Goof. You are too beautiful to be wasted. You're also one of the few people I know who could never hurt anybody- not even if they tried.

Well- except for Themselves I mean...

News For The Blogging Public...

1. Ever had your toes sucked on?

Ever seen my feet? I'm a size ten who prepares not to wear shoes and I've never had a pedicure. I manage my toe-hairs reasonably well but my toenails definitely need urgent attention.

Fergie I'm not...

2. Ever had a hickey... sexy or trashy? Why?

Yes; hasn't everyone had a hickey? Sexy on yourself or someone you've just sucked on the neck- trashy on teenagers and old people. I remember once my Hubby gave me one when we first started going out - he smiled at me after giving it- he'd sucked so hard he must have burst some capillaries or something. His front teeth had blood on them anyway and it wasn't gingivitis...

3. Ever stolen from a store? If so, what?

Just once and I got caught. It was a pair of earrings and I didn't even have pierced ears then.

4. Ever got a speeding ticket? If so, how many?

No- I've never lost a point off my licence. But perhaps I Should have...

I don't speed much these days but back when I first got my licence I remember driving my mate Stan in his car (a hotted up V8 Torana) to Sydney doing 180km/h the whole way. It took me just over an hour to get there when I should have only been half way. Stan had fallen sleep in the back seat cos he had to work the next day and we were just past the Sydney Harbour Bridge- when he woke up and looked at the time and asked if we'd gone past the half-way point he nearly killed me when I told him how fast I'd been driving. I can still remember whizzing past all the semi-trailers with Bryan Adams blasting on the stereo.

Hey it Was the 80's...and I thought I was invincible back then!

5. Ever faked an orgasm?

Probably hundreds. When I was with my Bastard Ex I had to!

I wouldn't bother faking it anymore; that's just One you can't ever get back!

Bonus (as in optional): What's the trick to being multiorgasmic?

Not stopping after one? I'm not sure- being as I'm not the multiorgasmic type. But I can proudly say that persistence Does pay off in the end- and can now announce to the Blogging Public that I've at last cracked the two orgasms-in-one-day scenario. They weren't simultaneous (or even witnessed for verification) but I'm working on that side of things- almost as we speak...

Mind over matter as they say!

Lifting Goof...

She called Me Goof when we were little, so that's what I'll call her now.

I wonder if she'd remember that?

I suppose we were about ten years old when she first came to my school. It was the same year that Cecily was our teacher, anyway- I remember that for sure. Goof's got a Rat's Tail that goes half-way down her back but otherwise her hair is only shoulder length- and she's got shiny excited eyes and a big smile.

It doesn't take long for the word to spread that She's moved here to our Town because she's come to live with her aunty and uncle- her Mother has just died from cancer and her father's no where to be found- and you can tell she really misses her Mum. On the first day of school I tell her that my sister's cat Kimba has recently had kittens in our shed and she begs Me to let her come over to my house that afternoon to see them.

We've been friends ever since...

There were two left; my older Sister had given her friend the black runt last week, which left the grey one, and the white and black one with the Puzzle piece on his back- which eventually earned him his name. She likes the grey one better, anyway, and takes him home and calls him Kahn- after Imran the cricketer- before her Aunty Joan can tell her to take him back to where she got him.

That year, at her eleventh birthday slumber party, we performed a seance to summon her dead mother, because that was her wish for her birthday; to see her mother one more time. My Kindred Spirit starts freaking out at all the talk of spirits and bodies rising from the grave- and because Kahn the kitten is acting really skittishly and apparently cats are super sensitive to the supernatural. She starts to cry a little; and we promise to stop when she threatens to tell Aunty Joan what we are all doing.

As soon as she falls asleep we start the seance again; sitting cross legged around the Scrabble pieces. A girl named Felicity whispers promises to everyone that it's not her who is pushing the glass; but who else could it have been? The glass was always moving in the same direction...

And after that we 'lifted' Goof.

I am supervising the 'lift' because my Grandmother's house on the Hill is haunted by the ghost of an old Sea Captain; so I have the next most experience with spirits after Goof herself. She tells us what we have to do; how we have to place only our index fingers beneath her so that we are barely supporting her at all.

In hushed voices we whisper the words 'Stiff as a Board Stiff as a Board" over and over again; and Goof is steadily rising into the air- until a small scream from my Kindred Spirit shatters the spell. Goof drops a small distance to the floor as Aunty Joan rushes out from her bedroom with the rollers still in her hair; and ends the seance once and for all.

But as we were all drifting off to sleep in our sleeping bags we were all certain that Goof's mum was still there in the room with us. Goof said that she even smelt her favourite perfume in the air at one stage...

And I believed her.