Better...

This isn't about a house.

Or money.

Or even drugs and alcohol.

For Me; it's about a total lack of respect and trust. Non- communication and abuse.

Both mental. And physical.

The bottom line is This Is About Our Kids. My kids. And I don't care if I love you anymore or not. Nothing will change until you accept that the Real problem we have is that We Don't Communicate. Me writing this letter is Proof of that.

But it's the only way I have to get my point across.

And that's Sad.

I don't know if we can work this out. I'm willing to try but I don't think either of us will ever change enough that it makes us good relationship role-models for the Kids.

And they deserve More.

They deserve Better.

The Goat Song...

I just heard that Adam Sandler might be the new Intruder on Big Brother.

Fuck. I knew I should have auditioned this year.

If I ever met him I'd sing him my own rendition of The Goat Song.

Complete with actions.

For Those of You who haven't heard the song; Enjoy.

It went down a treat at my Sister's wedding...

Behold.

The Goat Song...

I am a simple goat
I live on the back of a pick-up truck
The Old Man tied me here with a 3-foot rope
Am I happy he don't give a fuck
"Hey goat,
I'm gonna beat your head in with a hickory stick"
Sometimes he uses his fists
He's filled with anger, and filled with rage

And tells me I smell like piss
His drink, Jimmy Bean
His chaser, a bear
After that, various alcohols
That's when the beatings get so severe

Asleep I pray he falls
But don't feel sorry for me
Things weren't always this bad
Why, when I was a young talking goat
The Old Man was just like my dad

I come from the hills of Europe
That's where I met the Old Man
He was lost in the woods, I gave him directions
He gave me a tuna can

Then he stopped in his tracks
And he said, "Hey Goat!
Would you like to live with me?
I've got a house with a pick-up truck
In a place across the sea"
I said, "Sure, why not, I've got no family
You seem like a nice guy"

So we went off to America
The home of the apple pie
On the boat, the Old Man told me
I would be a present for his wife
"A talking goat!" he exclaimed,
"She'd never seen this in her life"
I felt so special!

Well, I just couldn't believe it
After all theses years I finally had a friend
He trimmed my beard
He scraped my hooves
I prayed it would never end

But when we got to his house
There was no wife
Only a short, short letter
It said: "I'm leaving you for your broher
Because he fucks me better"
His eyes filled with tears of sadness
His heart was filled with grief

To soothe himself he drank a pint of Old Granddad
And beat me like a side of beef
I screamed, "Send me back to the hills of Europe!"
He just shook his head and said, "Nope!"
No one will ever leave me again
To make sure, put on this 3-foot fucking rope."

Present day, I've been on the truck for 51 years
My only friend is the AM radio
Sometimes the neighborhood children stop by
But it's always rocks and beer bottles that they throw

At first they're excited to see a talking goat
They gather around to hear what I have to say
But I guess sometimes my stories go ont too long
So they leave and giggle I need a bidet

But you know there was a night
That I did get off the truck
When the Old Man was passed out drunk
Three neightborhood kids took me to a rock 'n roll concert
The kind of music, old-school funk

It was the first time I got off the truck
The music made me lose control
The lead singer asked if we were having fun
I said, "Fucking crank that rock 'n roll!"
The women at the show were beautiful
As they danced sexily on the soft grass
One of them even petted my fur
Fuck me in the goat-ass!

Then some long-haired guys grabbed me by the horns
And threw me in the mosh pit
They passed me around and treated me nice
Untill I nerviously sprayed them with shit
Then the music stopped
And everything was quite
And all the rock 'n rollers started a fucking goat-riot

Kill the goat!
Kill the goat!
Kill the goat!
Kill the goat!

They chased me under the bleachers
They chased me onto the street
They chased me into an alley
And said I was a dead fucking goat meat
But then I saw a sight
That I never thought I'd see

The Old Man swinging his hickory stick
But he wasn't swinging at me
"Fuck you, pot-smoking turkeys!
Don't you press your luck!"

The long hairs ran away screaming
As I scrambled onto the truck
When we got home, the Old Man said,
"Goat, you broke the sacred law
No! Please! Sorry! Shit!
I'll let it go this time, but if you leave again
I'll break your fucking jaw!"
Super! Great! Okay!

"Thank you Old Man, for saving my life
Thank you again and again
You could have let them barbeque me,
But you acted like a friend"

"I'm not your friend, I don't even like you
I'm just not drunk," he said
To prove his point, he drank a bottle of grain alcohol
And beat the fucking shit out of my Head

That night i suffered i cuncution
Deep inside my goat brain
I still canot feel my tailbone
And I'll probably never walk straight again

I guess you'd call me a scapegoat
A punching bag for the Old Man to mock
Just because his wife left him
For his brother's abnormally large cock

He could have been my buddy
But instead he's a crazy old fuck
And, once again, I go to sleep in my eternal home
The back of the pick-up truck

Goodnight, Old Man!
Yeah, goodnight Goat!

Post Script...

I ordered Chinese for dinner at half past five.

Little Son and I ate at six.

It's nine pm now.

And Hubby's still not back.

I knew it.

Hypocritical Shit...

For some reason Blogger won't let Me name this post...

For the Record it's called Hypocritical Shit.

So it's the School Holidays and I've used up all my babysitting quota; my Parents have been minding little Son for Me while I go to work and as such I don't feel like I can then ask them to mind him Again while I go out drinking at the Pub...

So I stayed in last night. For the first Friday in ages.

I dropped Hubby at the Pub straight after work; he didn't even come home first to get changed. I told him I would probably have a few glasses of wine. He said he'd get his own way home.

About seven he called and asked if I was too drunk to drive. I told him I was. He asked what was for tea. I told him that little Son and I had toasted sandwiches. Eldest Son was at a slumber party.He told Me he'd be home soon.

I vaguely recall putting little Son to bed. He sleeps in our bedroom due to the fact ours is only a two bedroom house; unfortunately he has acquired the habit of wanting either his Father or I to lay down with him while he goes to sleep. Usually it's Hubby who does this; as he goes to bed earlier than me most nights...

Anyway, I think I planned on getting back up again after little Son fell asleep, but I was pretty drunk and fell asleep Myself. When I woke up again it was twenty past four in the morning; the television was blaring in the lounge room and I hadn't turned off the heater.

Hubby wasn't home either.

Hypocritical Shit.

After all that Shit he's been giving Me about Everything.

I went back to bed until eight thirty. When I woke I checked my phone and realised he'd tried to call around one thirty. What for; if I'd still been awake I wouldn't have needed a phone call from Him to tell me the obvious. That he wasn't coming home.

I would have already guessed That...

I was sitting on the back verandah when I heard Him banging on the front door; he brushed past Me into the kitchen when I let him in and grabbed some money to pay for the Taxi that was waiting up the top for him to pay the fare. When he came back inside he fed the dog then came out to where I was sitting. He sat down opposite me and waited until I looked up at him.

Him: What've you got the shit's with?

Me: Nothing. And you're not going to either when I go out next time are you?

Him: No.

Me: Cos that'd be a little bit Hypocritical; now wouldn't it?

Him: I guess so.

Me: Good. Glad we got That sorted. Do you still want me to drive you down to the bank?

Him: Yeah. And I wanna go past the Bike Shop. Should you get some shopping?

Me: How much money are you getting out?

Him: All of it.

Me: Then we'll get Chinese.

So we went to the shops; and while Hubby went to the bank I went to IGA. I got little Son and I a butterfly cake each and then met back up with Hubby at the fruit shop where I wanted to get some mushrooms and tomatoes to go with our bacon and eggs. Then we drove past the Bike shop but it was shut. Hubby got out of the car and walked down an alley to see if he could see his motorbike while little Son and I waited in the car.

And waited...

He hops back in and tells me Twink has just rung him. Apparently it's Jase's birthday and they are all going for a few beers this afternoon. Will I drop Hubby back at Twink's he wants to know. I drive over to Twink's a little faster than I should.

He pats my arm just before he gets out of the car. I flinch. He looks at Me but I'm looking out the rear-view mirror; determined not to make eye contact.

Him: What?

Me: I'm working tomorrow remember. Just be home before that. You have to mind little Son you know.

Him: I know. What have you got the shits with?

Me: Nothing. I'll enjoy my Chinese by Myself. Seeya.

Him: I'll be home by then. I don't wanna sit around drinking all day.

Me: We'll see.

Then he scabbed one of my cigarettes and shut the door of the car.

I drove home. On the way I stopped at the Bottle Shop and got a carton of VB.

And Here I sit...

Mister Jay And A Trivial Pursuit...

MR J is the name of the trivial team I'm a part of on Tuesday nights. I've been going for the last six weeks or so with my best mate M and her fella J. I'm R naturally. So that's how we came up with our name...

MR J are the reigning champions; we kick butt on the trivia floor. Not that the competition is fierce. There's the Boozehounds and the Chardonay Girls in the corner but the pub has only been running the comp for a few weeks; it's sure to pick up once people hear about the hundred dollar a week jackpot. It'll be seven hundred dollars next week; and MR J are keen to win. M and I play trivia in front of her heater after work at least one day a week to practice- and in doing so I've learned that the Olympic abbreviation of DJI is for the country Djibuti.

I'm a bit of a trivia buff; I'm not actually all that good but I like it. I was in another team called General Havoc until my Hubby got jealous of Me having my own night out at the pub with 'his' mates where he was expected to mind the children so I could do something other than be a mother and wife. He hated it when I used to have to go to uni classes at night too. I couldn't tell you the number of times I missed class because he would fail to come home to mind the kids. He would tell me that he had forgotten the time but I know it was because he was jealous of Me being out of the house away from his control.

Is it paranoid to say that? Because all of our friends even make comments such as "He's let you off the leash has He" and "How'd you manage to escape". It's a bad running joke but so true.

I messaged M Tuesday afternoon telling her I had a strong feeling my Hubby was going to make it difficult for Me to get to Trivia. I knew he'd have a stink about me spending money at the pub when I have just incurred all these car problems and because we are practically broke until the insurance comes. The thing is Trivia hasn't cost me one cent apparent from the very first night. Because MR J have won every week and we've been given a bar tab of thirty dollars to spend the following week;so I just make sure I keep within my ten dollar share budget. That's three middies of beer; which I sip slowly so that I'm sober enough to drive home at eight thirty when it's finished.

Hubby's been difficult about it every week; the first week he rang at least three times demanding that I get home immediately to put little Son to bed. He was having trouble enforcing his No Rules Policy by the sound of it and taking out his lack of parental ability on Me because I had dared to go out for longer than two hours. The irony was that before I'd gone out he had been at the pub Himself for three...

Do I ring him and up and demand he get his drunken arse home? No. I actually enjoy the peace when he's not here. I can watch my 'crap' television programs that he hates so much without interruption...

So he goes for a beer with Twink and Mac about five o'clock. I know he had no intention of being home by six thirty. About a quarter past I messaged him and asked if he was ready to come home yet; he messaged back that they'd all just won a Trifecta and wouldn't be home for a while.

Fine.

So in order to prove that I'm the one who has the 'partying-too-much problem' he decides to stay out until ten o'clock himself. When he got home he went straight to bed and so didn't fully appreciate the fact that I'd neglected to make him any dinner; there hadn't seemed much point with the eldest Son at Grandma's for the night and little Son was content with a toasted sandwich. And I'd been too pissed off to be hungry...

I slept on the couch.

The next morning it was business as usual. I drove him to work in stony silence; still fuming about last night's events. I admit I didn't have my mind fully on the road. That's when I inched my tyre over the merge lane and was clipped by the truck...

And in answer to His obvious question- No; I didn't see it coming.

I spent most of the day trying to track down a quote from a panel-beater; only for Hubby to tell me we wouldn't be forking out money we didn't have to when we could just buy the parts from the Commodore shop and he'll put them on himself. As long as it's done within the next few days I'll be happy; the last thing I need is a defect notice on a banged-up car that I haven't even paid for yet.

Still; there was good news from the assessors of XIP- and we've agreed on a price and I will be getting the cheque next week and we can get on top of these problems. Right?

Not quite...

Hubby wasn't impressed with the payout. He barely listened when I told him I'd managed to talk them up a thousand dollars on the original figure they offered. These little accidents of mine were costing him a fortune. What was I thinking- almost running into a truck?

Well I told him; actually- I was thinking how shitty I was at You for fucking up my trivia night.

Then it got a bit nasty and heated for the duration of the car-ride home. Little Son was yelling at us to Shut Up and telling Me to call the police on Daddy. I stopped at the pub- ran in and gave Mac five dollars to buy me some tickets in the Fishing Club raffle; when I got back to the car Hubby was on the phone with Twink; organising to go and have a beer. I got in and started the car. He asked for some of 'his' money. I told him No. He was staying home with little Son and I was going to play Trivia with General Havoc tonight seeing as I had missed out on playing with MR J on Tuesday. I drove home as he ranted away at me.

I started cooking tea; I've never gone out without first making dinner for Him and the kids. I thought he was outside feeding the dog. But He'd shot through.To the pub. Without saying a word...

My Text: Ooh aren't you funny. Never mind I'll just pay eldest Son fifty bucks to babysit.

His Text: Don't push your luck.

My Text: Be back by seven or I'm locking the door and if by chance you decide to kick the door in again I'll do whatever little Son tells Me don't be a prick your whole life it's only trivia.

His Text: I won't be coming home again.

My Text: Okay suit yourself.

Then; half an hour later...

My Text: In the next day or so we are going to have to sit down and talk about this; if this is over for real we still have shit to discuss; I don't want this to end nasty; call me when you are ready to talk.

I didn't lock the door; He'd said he wasn't coming home so I didn't bother.

He walked in at ten o'clock. Ate the leftovers. Went to bed. Without a word.

And I slept on the couch...

I don't think I've ever told you my Hubby's real name- but it starts with J. Now go back and read the title of this post.

Pretty apt hey?

It Never Rains...

I currently have four vehicles registered in my name.

There's my dearly departed XIP; our family car that I washed down the drain three weeks ago during the Long Weekend Floods. Once I've heard from the assessors a payout figure I'll be able to cash in my number plates and will be reimbursed for all the un-used rego. Any day now. So They keep saying..

There's my Hubby's Katana; a piece of shit Suzuki that he's almost destroyed by trying to fix himself. He'd hate it if He knew I'd just said that but it's so true. He's taken it apart that many times now and everytime he does it only gets more worse for wear. He finally managed to get two cylinders firing so I begged him to take it to the Bike Shop before it broke down again. It's getting assessed as we speak- but what a waste of almost a full year's rego. It's been off the road since November...

Then there's the Ute which we recently bought from Hubby's work- two days before the storm. It's a 2000 model so we really got it for a bargain when you think that we only paid a thousand bucks for it. It needs a new gearbox- but what they hey? We knew that when we bought it. That's why we got it so cheap. As soon as I've found another thousand to get it fixed we'll sell it for a good profit and pay some money off the personal loan we used to buy XIP. That's the Plan. Fingers crossed...

And finally there's the Commodore I've just bought as a replacement for XIP. We haven't even paid for it yet (Jen Jen's boyfriend is selling it to me and was happy to wait until after I got paid out so that I'd still have a vehicle in the meantime) so I'm still technically having a lend until my Insurance Company coughs up. Which is why it was so totally frustrating to get side-swiped by a truck yesterday morning on the way to Hubby's work. I guess I'd be considered at fault as I was trying to merge- and it was pretty lucky that he only just clipped us or else I might not have been around to tell this tale. There's not too much damage; the driver's side mirror was smashed off, the front guard and bumper were dingled and scratched up, but the car is drivable as the tyre still freely moves. I've got no idea how much it's going to cost Me to get it fixed yet...

What do They say?

It never rains; it fucking Pours.

I'm Awesome...

Six point seven two Billion people Can't be wrong!