Merry Christmas

Hi - I would like to say a bit Thank You to everyone who has commented recently. Thanks for all your words of comfort and support, I really appreciate it. At the moment I am feeling a tad bit low, but hopefully the future is bright for Sakura Girl - ready to take on the world !!

I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas and I do sincerely hope you all have some banging hangovers come New Years.

Bye !

Bright side?

redundant
• adjective 1 not or no longer needed or useful; superfluous. 2 chiefly Brit. made unemployed because one’s job is superfluous to requirements.
Last Friday this is what happened to me.

I was advised that even though I am fantastic at my job, intelligent, management material etc etc that there was no longer a position for me on the West Coast. One could say that this was a massive kick in the guts, and that no matter what was said to me, after those words were uttered it was nothing but cold comfort.

Everyone keeps saying to me that I should not take it personally, that it was nothing that I have done that it is purely down to money; however that does not make me feel any better. When you are told that you are no longer needed that your position is no longer viable or necessary to the company you feel, well how should I put this … … … … like shit.

The great cogs and mechanisms of business have chewed me up and spat me out right in the middle of a shitty little town that is possibly so miserable at the moment I don’t even want to get out of bed in the mornings.

So forgive me if I am not in the most festive of moods at the moment. I am currently in my “down” mood. I have gone through a few since I was told, there is the “resigned to my own fate” mood, the “angry” mood and at the moment the “depressed, life and god hates me” mood.

The hardest thing that I had to do was call my parents and tell them the news, because I didn’t want to disappoint them. Thankfully it was me that was crying on the phone and not them, they took it surprisingly well – however there was the “you should come back to Australia, now there are so many jobs here for you” which I am sure there are. The G-man and I would have no problems getting work back home – we have a plan don’t worry and we are working on it. It’s all a bit hush hush at the moment but it does include taking over the world so watch this space.

I suppose it isn’t all that bad, I now have ample time to pursue my singing career, enter on to the X-Factor or Big Brother become a Z-list star by doing absolutely nothing and walk around with a poodle in my over-sized Louis Vuitton handbag. Now that sounds like a brilliant plan don’t you think?

OR and I know it isn’t half as glamorous but, I could focus on renovating our apartment in order to move on to phase 2 of get the fuck out of here (oh did I say that out loud?).

The other shit thing about it is that I will no longer have access to the internet on such a regular basis, i.e all the time! I will have to venture to the library and pray to god that I don’t get busted looking at boobies which happen to always appear on Phishez blog or read about lurid antics on Steph’s blog. So if I don’t comment at much on your blog it isn’t because I don’t love them anymore, it is probably because the crazy librarian has banned me for looking at porn! I tell ya! It is a crazy mixed up world.

So seeing as it is nearly lunch … … no hang on it is lunch time, I better change out of my pyjamas and do something constructive.

See you later peeps!

Conversations of a Boss Kind

Last week the G-man was sent up to Orkney for work. Begrudgingly the G-man packed his bags and drove 7 hours to nearly the arse end of Scotland, nearly the arse end but close enough. Having suffered from the worst bout of food poisoning only a couple of weeks ago, the G-man was not impressed at this prospect, however it seems one conversation between himself and his boss made it kind of worthwhile (to me anyway. It was hilarious, but maybe that was because I was drunk when the G-man told me what had transpired)…

Bring bring, bring bring

G-man: Boss, what can I do for you?

Boss: Oh hi G-man, umm I was just wondering? Umm, where are you because I was worried that I haven’t seen you around and thought you might be ill again.

G-man: perplexed Ummm I’m in Ornkey Boss? You know, you sent me here?

Boss: Oh right! Oh good that’s great.

G-man: Riiiight

Long pause

Boss: So you’re going to make it back for Saturday right because you don’t want to miss York’s and Jordy’s party.

G-man: Noooo, I’ll be back

Boss: Good, that’s great.

G-man: Riiiight

Boss: So, this 25th wedding anniversary thing, umm what’s that mean?

G-man: What?

Boss: Well what are you meant to get them as a present, like a mixer or microwave or something?

G-man: It’s a silver wedding anniversary so you’re meant to get them something silver but I don’t think it really matters they’re just having a party. I don’t think they’re gonna need a mixer, I think they might already have that.

Boss: Oh right. Ok, great.

Long pause

Boss: So …. G-man what are you wearing?

G-man: stunned silence What? Now? Umm I don’t think that’s appropriate do you?

Boss: stunned silence What? Silence again No! I mean for Saturday night are you wearing a suit?

Now if that had of been me, I would have said something like this…

Right now? Well I’m glad you asked. I’m wearing suspenders and a bustier, and a whip but you don’t count that as clothing and I am not sure about the lard that is smeared all over my body.

G-man: You know me Boss, I didn’t even wear a tie to my own wedding so a suit is out of the question.

Boss: Oh good ! Ok well I’ll see you later.

G-man: Right, bye.

The Winds of Change

Well done Ruddsy you've done well.

I got a phone call at 7:30am on Saturday morning from my parentals in Australia to let me know the good news, apparently people in their street were letting off fireworks ! I thought that was a bit extravagant don't you? Oh well any excuse for a piss up.

On another note I have been tagged by the ianandan expedition with a lovely little '8 things' meme so here we go...

8 things I am passionate about:

good food
writing
equality
my husband
music
singing (badly mind you)
art
family

8 things I want to do before I die:

snowboard
have children
learn more languages
learn to paint
move back to Australia
run a half marathon
travel more
find peace

8 things I say often:

"no way!"
"Oh Aye" - (slap me right now)
"Bastardi"
"errors"
"have you seen where I put ....."
"I don't understand"
"this place is chav central"
"beer? yes please"

8 books I have recently read:

Going Postal - Terry Pratchett
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - JK Rowling
Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett
Night Watch - Terry Pratchett
Guards Guards - Terry Pratchett
Ok I think you are getting the picture now aren't you??

8 songs I could listen to over and over:

Best of You - Foo Fighters
Gli ostacali del cuore - Elisa
If you wear that velvet dress - U2
Don't Dream its over - Crowded House
Blue Sky Mining - Midnight Oil
I Choose You - Bindi Blatcher
Dancefloor - Stylophonics
One More Time - Daft Punk

8 things that attract me to my friends:

crazy
they make me laugh
they love a good rant
keep me grounded
smart
teach me things
they offer me support
they accept me

Little Johnny Howard

The G-man and I got our ballot papers in the mail on Friday !! Yehaaaaaaaaaaa and we took great pride in putting Little Johnny Howard where he belongs. We proudly sealed our votes and posted them straight back the Australian High Commission as soon as possible.

You're going down Johnny Tennis Shoes You're Going Down !

On another note, what is with the strange parties now? I was seriously tempted to vote for Senator on-line!! Is that some strange virtual politician or something? Wouldn't really make that much of a difference really.Or What Women Want Australia? You know what I want? I want John Howard to get the fuck out of here. There were a few other strange ones as well, something about climate change and oh yeah the Australian Shooters Party - now that's a goer.

You know, it is also good to see that One Nation is still kicking about - the racist bell ends, because for a moment there I thought that we only had the Liberal party to push the anti-Aboriginal, anti-homosexual anti-bloody-everything policies in our Government.

You know what they say about Little Johnny Tennis Shoes - he's only patting you on the back to find the best place to stab you.

Makes me smile

Planes, Trains and Friggin Automobiles

It has been a week since my parents left and only now have I finally felt it possible to write about their stay with us. Ok, so you may think that I am being overly dramatic, that I should just suck it in, deal with it and just get on with life. However, in all honesty saying goodbye to my parents at the airport was not only the strangest experience ever for me, it was really difficult. I am a family person, I love my family and they annoy the hell out of me at the same time, but I would never be with out them so saying goodbye to them was extremely hard for me. Anyhoo, I think I can now type without getting all teary, but I am not 100% sure this is really the case.

I was so nervous before they arrived; I constantly thought that I would disappoint them somehow. I thought that when they got here they would finally see what a flim flam I am, how little I have actually achieved in my life and I was worried they would see the desperation in my eyes. Maybe they did, but they never said anything to me. Not in an overt way anyway, but I am sure they did, I have always found it hard to hide my real emotions.

At Glasgow airport we were the only 4 people in the entire airport who ran to each other, embraced and cried tears of joy. I suppose everyone thought we were complete whack jobs, or they just thought “oh another bunch of ethnics” I can’t help it, I cry – deal with it! I have never had such an emotional holiday, 3 weeks of discovery is what I would call it. For 2 of those weeks we were in Italy and you can tell that you have been on a woggy, dago, garlic munching family holiday when 80% of your photos consist of images like this …. (ok all anonymity is going to go out the window here … oh well it was good while it lasted I suppose)

It isn’t a holiday it is a war of attrition I swear to God. If you come back from one of these holidays and haven’t put on weight then I want to know your secret. I don’t think I have eaten so much food in my entire life and the worst of it is that it tastes so damn good that you can’t help yourself. I felt like that character out of the Monty Python movie The Meaning of Life “oh come on it is only waver thin”. At one stage I thought I seriously was going to die from over eating, honestly.

I don’t know about you, and this is a massive generalisation I know but from our experience the difference between Anglos and Italians is that when you go to an Anglo house they ask if you want a cup of tea and a biscuit and instinctively we say “no thank you” and then for the next 3 days they never ask you again. It was just a reflex people! When you go to an Italian house, they ask you if you want a coffee and food and for the next 5 times you keep saying “no thank you” until you finally give in. Because you know that if you say yes straight away you will get 20 cups of coffee and 20 million bowls of pasta shovelled down your throat.

This trip to Italy was like flippin planes, trains and automobiles as we went from the top of Italy to the bottom and back up again .

We flew into Milan, Bergamo and in two weeks we travelled to Rome, Calabria, Orte and then back to Bergamo where our flight departed from. In those two weeks I have never been so sleep deprived and over fed in my life that it was insane. We stayed with my father’s cousin in Bergamo for a couple of days, caught the Eurostar to Rome where we stayed with my father’s niece for a couple of days. We then caught the bus all the way down to Civita, my father’s village in Calabria – stayed there for a couple of days, caught the bus up to Orte and stayed one night with my uncle. The worst thing we ever did was catch the sleeper train from Orte to Bergamo because I can tell you this it is a LIE – you don’t sleep, not at all. It has to be the noisiest train I have ever caught in my life, and I have a good mind to write to the Italian railway people and tell as much. We had a 4 person cabin, the G-man and myself on the top bunks and my pa and ma on the bottom bunks and the most amazing thing was that even though the train was noisy as all hell, we could still hear my pa’s snoring over the train ! How the hell is that possible, that is some supersonic snoring capability going on there.

I must admit, it was a great experience even though I am only now catching up on sleep. My pa took me around his village, showing all the places he used to work and where he used to live. It was really interesting; all these people would come up to him and say “Mario, do you remember me? I used to work with the goats with you” and my pa would say “take your glasses off I might remember” so they would take their glasses of and then he would say “nope don’t have a clue, who are you?”. You couldn’t walk around the village without being stopped and the stares from the crazy old people wooo weeee – the G-man, my ma and I started to get fed up and when asked by the locals “who are you” we would answer “we are people who are you?”

Anyway I am prattling on now, and I don’t want this to turn into one of those boring, un-intellectual, self absorbed blogs that get hammered for lacking any literary imagination and full of mundane drivel. Oh why oh why didn’t I mention Nietzsche or Foucault in this blog? Then I might have some credibility …. Sorry just being a bit of a shit stirrer.

I would post more photos, but I am not sure 50 million photos of us sat around the table with over flowing bowls of food would be all that interesting. Anyway I have shoved them all onto my Crackbook if you’re interested.

From an emotionally drained Sakura – laters peeps!

Moments like these

Last night, as the rain lashed against the window panes and we all watched crappy British TV I had a little ohhhhhhh moment. Tucked up in the corner of one of our couches was my dad sitting there in his jimmy jams telling me about how he plays online checkers nearly every night. Now I didn’t realise how into checkers he actually was until then. I knew he dabbled here and there, but as he sat there regaling to me how many games he has won, what level of expertise he was up to and how he was going for the online championship I saw a different side to my dad. Here is this 66 year old Italian Australian man telling me how to log on to the internet to play checkers with people from all over the world. He was telling me that you can chat to people, but not that much and you can not swear because you will get “booted off”. I asked him what he chatted to people about he said “oh not much I just type ‘good move’, ‘be right back’ or ‘are you still there’ you know just stuff like that and you know can write in abbreviated way because it doesn’t take up as much room?”. I thought this was really sweet, now he is talking about getting a mobile phone even though he is dead against them, causing brain cancer and all, but “you know they are very handy sometimes”.

He could never have imagined as a small child growing up in a tiny village in Calabria all those years ago, having to wear hand me down clothes, working from 3am in the morning to 6pm at night from the age of 4 that he would he playing online checkers and contemplating buying a mobile with blue tooth capabilities. I suppose a lot of immigrants have thought the exact same thing. It makes me feel that I really haven’t accomplished much in my life – I really should get cracking.

And another thing I never really realised how small he was, he always felt taller and bigger somehow, now he looks really small.

It was just a really sweet moment.

My Kryptonite

I haven't seen my parents for ages, roughly about 4 almost 5 years now, not because I don't want to see them, but just because I live in the UK and they live back home in Australia. Now for ages I was so excited about having them stay with us and don't get me wrong it has been fantastic having them here with us, but the G-man made a really interesting observation. He said to me one day "your father is your kryptonite". Now I thought about this for a long time and it is true, for some reason I feel compelled to impress and gain my father's approval even though I know deep down that I don't have to do this and he doesn't want this from me, but when I am around him I go from being Superwoman

to being a 5 year old girl with pigtails desperately trying to get approval. How strange is that?

However, I have learnt something during their stay and that is, I don't need their approval because dammit I am doing pretty good all things considered and that they love me and are very proud of both myself and my husband. During our Tour of Italy (which I will blog about later) I heard my dad telling people how well we are doing, and how proud he was of us etc. All the things I wish he had told me a long time ago. I guess I am lucky to have heard him say it anyway - god I love my parents to bits and they drive me insane but that is the best part.

I'm back

Oh my God, how fast do your holidays want to go? I'm back at work today HURRRAH, as you can tell I was not doing the happy dance this morning when the alarm went off. Spent the last 2 weeks travelling through Italy with my parents, but I am far too exhausted to blog about it right now, plus I am up to my armpits in paper work and millions of emails - YAWN. Just letting you know I am back and will post later when I am in a better frame of mind.

Laters beautifuls.

Oh Happy Days

Hi everyone,

Just to let you know that I won't be blogging for a while. My parents arrived from Australia on Monday - you should have seen the scene at the airport, what a bunch of emotional ethnics !! It was great actually and we love having them here, especially when I get home and dinner is already made and they have cleaned my bedroom up HA Score !

No really it is fantastic to have them here, haven't seen them in such a long time.

Anyway from next Monday I will be on 3 weeks leave YEEEHAAAAAAA and not able to post, but I will blog like crazy when I get back from holidays.

So from the little Sakura it is ciao for now and I hope you are all well and take care - smooches!

The sheep are staring at me

It has been a bit of a mental couple of weeks since last I posted and now I can take a deep breath, sit back and watch the black faced sheep that seem to be staring at me through my office window.



Let's do a recap shall we (cue wavey effect):

Wednesday 29th - On the way back from Glasgow after cracking my molar and getting it fixed the G-man and I had to assist at a car accident. Thankfully the driver wasn't injured, slid his van off the road and into a 4 meter ditch on the side of the road. He was shaken and obviously sore from the incident but other than that he was ok. We hung around in the drizzly rain until the police arrived and then carried on our journey home.


Friday 31st - Major fuck up at work, we had a major product recall big style. So I spent all day Friday following up customers who recieved our fresh food product on Thursday to advise them it was toxic and had to be disposed of. Obviously they were pissed off by this and saw it fit to take it out on me even though it was out of my control. It's a long story but basically the Government monitoring system fucked up and we were having to deal with it - just what you need on a Friday. However, we did have a bit of luck we managed to get all our furniture, couches, spare bed, dining room table and mattress Friday afternoon just in time for when my parents come over to visit from Australia (YAY!). My parents arrive next week and I haven't seen them for bloody years and as you may be able to tell I am ever so excited to see them again and the great bit is that I have managed to get uber long holidays to spend with them GO ME.


Saturday 1st - Went to a mates house and got absolutely shit faced. Oh it was great, drinking, eating take out and being surrounded by dope heads (meaning I didn't have to smoke anything to get a tiny bit stoned). Got home at 5am, it was obviously a good night because we had the crying, the laughing the political debate and the randy couple in the kitchen getting it off. A very well rounded evening I would say.


Monday 3rd - I had to follow up on the product recall and do an incident report for the company, again there was a lot of yelling at me by customers, but by this time I was numb with exhaustion. Although, had a funny incident with a government official - well actually his PA and looking back it wan't exactly funny but insulting, yes it was insultingly funny. Because of the whole broooo ha ha with the recall I had to call the Local Environmental Health Officer in the area where the toxins occured, got put through to his PA who is most obviously a very bright spark. She asked me who I was and where I was calling from and all the other shit they have to ask, however she forgot to put me on hold and I was on speaker phone. She yells out into the office "Got a phone call about the recall, some girl don't know what her name is but I think she's Australian" and then proceeds to make fun of my accent to the laughing crowd in the office. At this stage I am aghast and say into the phone "psssst I can actually hear you" - Phone line goes dead as she puts me on hold. Next thing the government official picks up the line, discusses my issue blah blah blah, at the end of the conversation I say "oh by the way tell the girl on the phone that she is a smart one because I am from Australia" to which the official replies "oh she is terribly embarrased and apologises for that". Yeah well it gave me a good story to tell when I got home and it did lighten up my day for a little bit amidst all the crap.


During all of this I had my good Ol' faithful - alcohol ahhhh bliss, is it wrong that I drink when I am stressed?

Aggro Weekend

This weekend has been really strange, a bad vibe going around and some serious aggro happening. I know why this is the case. It all started Friday around 5pm when all I did was email off a simple question and it started a barrage of bullying and arguments from the directors of the company. One simple little question and I was made to feel as though I had just asked "why is the sky blue?" Obviously I am so think that they needed to explain to me in child like language why we weren't going to send out a letter advising that we were intending to increase our prices, I thought it was just common courtesy to do so. How silly of me.

From that it also spiralled into a session of virtual mutual masturbation about how good they all are, how much smarter they are than Company X and how we shit all over them blah blah blah blah blah - this is when I start to revert to the "Whateva" and "Am I Bovvered" attitude which probably isn't the best way to be, but I was starting to feel sick with all the wanking going on.

Having feeling totally shitted off about this, I went home. Only to find that my husband had a meeting with his boss about pay rise, promotion etc. The outcome ... ... ... if you work over 100 hours by doing this and this and that a week we may think about giving you a pay rise, but you have to prove yourself. As you can imagine, he was not a happy bunny about this, as he already works 70 odd hours a week working his guts out and for what? This meant that Friday night we were not happy at all, so we had a couple of drinks and tootled off to Homebase (home and hardware store in the UK) to buy a few things and see if our order had been collected from another store. Guess what? It hadn't the manger forgot about it and has to go pick up this week - right it isn't like we are working to a tight fucking schedule here (my parents are coming to visit us - they arrive on the 10th of September we still have no sofa bed, no dining table - that is another story it has been on order for a month now).

So we thought, Fuck It! let's meet up with some mates and have a few - didn't really work because we were still bloody stressed and pissed off to enjoy ourselves - damn my brain never shutting off bastard of thing.

Saturday, we worked like crazy people ( I can say that as I am officially crazy) on the hallway, paining the skirting boards with the first coat and generally working our arses off all day to get the place looking decent. Amongst all this, there were arguments going on like you can't believe. The G-man and I were picking on each other for bloody well every little thing - was not a fun experience. The only laugh we had was when we stopped to watch The X-Factor.

Sunday got up nice and early, The G-man went off to work and I started work again on the place and general domestic stuff. It was nice, I was singing my lungs out (take that you little shit brat upstairs who thinks you can sing like Whitney at 3am in the morning) I know I can't sing but I just don't give a shit anymore little fucking brat.

The G-man gets back from work at about 2ish we decide to put the new curtain rods up in the lounge room, again arguments ensued and we were yelling and shouting at each other like a couple of banshees. After putting one curtain rod up, we were took fucked off to do anything else so we thought we would watch The Matrix: Reloaded - to chill out a bit. During the movie I got a bit peckish as you do, I thought shall I open those Maltesers or maybe I should have a bowl of muesli instead it is healthier. Went for the healthy option, and then after one mouthful CRACK! What the Fuck ! I cracked my back molar in fucking two didn't I. Oooooh yeah that's right take the fucking healthy option and that is what you get for your troubles stupid bitch bastard fucker bitch and more expletives. I should of just gone with the Maltesers, oh cruel irony!

So there I am panicking like a mother fucker, crying, in pain and stressed because the nearest dentist is fucking 2.5 hours away. Oh yeah, that's right you heard me, the local dentist in our area isn't taking new patients, even for emergencies - you son of a bitch.

I calmed down after a few stiff drinks and some ibuprofen, thought this is ok. I will call the dentist Monday and sort something out, it's ok. Went to sleep at about 10pm a reasonable hour I think considering we had to get up at 6:45am the next morning and then from 11pm onwards that little shit head upstairs was making noise all night / morning. I was so pissed off I was even imagining her being run over by a bus, is that a bad thing? I don't understand all day they are quiet as mice, on the weekend nothing not a peep and then during the week she decides to do the fucking vacuuming at 12pm, sing her lungs out, and make a fucking noise until her boyfriend comes home and then they sit up and talk until 6am and then I fall asleep and 20 seconds later the alarm goes off.

So as you can imagine I am in a really brilliant mood today, I mean really great mood. Tonight when I get home from work I plan to have a little chat with her, and if that doesn't work then I will call their landlord. I don't want to sound like a complaining old neighbour, I mean I don't care if she sings her lungs out during the day, runs about and whatever, but for fucks sake when it comes to normal sleeping time give me a break. Maybe I am being too harsh what do you think?

Dwarf + Vacuum Cleaner = hilarity

I just had to bring everyone's attention to this little gem of a story that I have only just found on News.com.au. I couldn't stop laughing when I read it.


A DWARF performer at the Edinburgh fringe festival had to be rushed to hospital after his penis got stuck to a vacuum cleaner during an act that went horribly awry.

Daniel Blackner, or Captain Dan the Demon Dwarf, was due to perform at the Circus of Horrors at the festival known for its oddball, offbeat performances.

The main part of his act was for him to appear on stage with a vacuum cleaner attached to his member with a special apparatus.

The attachment broke before the performance and Mr Blackner tried to fix it using extra-strong glue, but unfortunately only let it dry for 20 seconds instead of the 20 minutes required.

He then joined it directly to his organ. The end result? A solid attachment, laughter, mortification and ... hospitalisation.

"It was the most embarrassing moment of my life when I got wheeled into a packed A&E with a vacuum attached to me," Mr Blackner said.

"I just wished the ground could swallow me up. Luckily, they saw me quickly so the embarrassment was short-lived."

Now for some strange reason, I would have paid to have seen that show. Poor thing, could you imagine the horror as you realise that you have just glued your cock to something? Puts a new new spin on doing the hoovering doesn't it?

How to make people feel completely worthless on TV

I am not a fan of reality TV, unless it's those wacky, crazy Japanese TV shows where they run around an obstacle course for the ultimate prize of "Crazy Obstacle Course Champion 2007", but I really have a major problem with the TV shows that parade people with obvious emotional, psychological and severe weight problems as some sort of freak that needs to be verbally abused and ridiculed on national television.

At the moment there are a few TV shows like that in the UK, one in particular made me feel ashamed to be a human being. It's called "Three Fat Brides, One Thin Dress" and is hosted by none other than the Wicked Witch of the West herself ... Gillian MacKeith. If you have never heard of Gillian before, she is a self-proclaimed nutritional guru who bought her degree off the internet. Apparently she has no official qualifications to back up the rubbish that she spouts to people on her shows, but seeing as her husband is a top UK lawyer, anyone who says anything gets a court order slapped on them!

In this show, she takes three obese women who are preparing for their 'special' day and berates them on national TV. As if preparing for a wedding isn't bloody stressful enough, they now have to have some ferret faced cow telling them how fat they are - like they don't already feel terrible about themselves !

The three women are paraded around in their under ware, just in case we didn't realise they were overweight and to humiliate them even more, whilst Gillian tells them that they need to hire a tent as a wedding dress instead of trying to squeeze into that one right now. Nice one Gillian, how about I bitch slap you right here right now?

The premise of the show is that three overweight brides to be have eight weeks to slim down and fit into their dream wedding dress, or fail miserably and feel shit about themselves for the rest of their lives. Yeah I can see why this would appeal to the masses of people sitting on their couches stuffing crisps into their gobs.

My question is, why would you put yourself through such a harrowing ordeal? I could think of nothing worse that being stripped down to my under ware on national TV, God going to the beach was bad enough for me.

My other question is, why should we take advice from a woman who wears this?

That is so not a good look, I don't care if you are Kate Moss there is no way you could pull that off.

These shows demonstrate not only the completely skewed obsession with weight, but also the strange social phenomenon where society feels that it is ok to treat people with weight problems as social lepers, berating them for lacking the willpower not to eat that extra chocolate bar, or have take out food for dinner everynight.

TV shows such as these are so one dimensional, and totally ignore other mitigating factors for people's weight problems. How many people who live below or on the poverty line can afford to buy purely organic vegetables, and free range chickens? It is probably cheaper for them to go down to the local chip shop and buy their dinner - hell I can't afford to go all tree hugger when I am doing my grocery shopping. Besides that, there are the multitude of emotional, and psychological problems that go a long with people who over eat.

I am no expert on the matter, but why do we feel it is acceptable to do this to people who are obese and yet on the other hand we are sympathetic to people who suffer from anorexia or bulimia? We don't stand there judging these people for their unhealthy obsession with food and blame them for their lack of will power?

What do you think?

Neighbours the story continues

Continuation …

Flat #3 After the first blissful year in our lovely Tokyo mansion, we found by chance (we had to phone up about damage to our room due to an earthquake) that our contract wasn’t renewed for the second year and had to move out of our hamster box into another hamster box a few streets away. It was the same Uber company that owned the place called Leopalace 21 http://www.eg.leopalace21.com/service.html . Anyway I digress, the second place we moved into was on the bottom floor and yes again mega small. This time for our neighbours we had to the left of us Mr Male Host, who would get around with freakishly large spikey hair, an oversized black suit and drown himself in aftershave. He would often bring back young giggling girls from his nights out in the town and they would generally giggle all bloody night.

Above us we had a couple whom we never actually saw at all, but made up wild and fantastical stories about them. We wouldn’t actually hear anything except an almighty thud coming from the room above every so often. The G-man and I came to the conclusion that it was a midget man and his torso of a girlfriend who lived upstairs, and due to the fact that she had no legs, she would have fall from the loft onto a nice soft cushion below, because she couldn’t climb the stairs. Don’t know how she got back up right enough. Maybe the midget man had a hoist of some kind and would winch her back up when they needed to sleep or whatever else they did. It makes sense doesn't it?

Finally we had the Fucking Idiot that lived across from us who would, on a daily basis put their bike so close to our door that when you opened it you inevitably knocked their bike, along with our bikes in a domino effect over. Eventually we ended up picking up their bike one night and placing it somewhere down the street.

After 2 years of living in Tokyo, we moved on to Bonnie Scotland where we ended up living in a very beautiful part of the country on the West Coast of Scotland but completely in the middle of no where. Ok maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration, but having been in Tokyo and then moving to a semi-rural area was a a big culture shock along the lines of "What do you mean there isn't a Starbucks, no 7/11 or beer vending machines? What there is a bus every 4 hours into town? G-man where the hell are we!!" After the initial culture shock we settled in and moved into Flat #4.

Flat#4 was a cold, mould invested little cottage that stunk of old people. We have a multitude of varying neighbours in the 2 years that we lived there but the ones that stuck in our mind were the Washing Machine Fucker Uppers. As we lived at a self catering B&B/hotel we had to use the communal washing and drying machines out the back, not a problem can cope with that, however this one neighbour was continually breaking the washing machine. Pulling the handle off, stuffing powder into the liquid section and generally leaving it a complete mess. I mean how friggin hard is it to use a washing machine, it wasn't one of those Star Trek contraptions, it was a cheap arse, we've only bothered to put 5 different cycles on here because you are such a tight arse washing machine - so I ask you how friggin hard is it?

Obviously it is really hard, I mean really, really hard. They couldn't even understand my hand drawn poster which I stuck onto the machine to show them which compartment was for their powder and which compartment was for their liquid - didn't work though. So everytime I would do a load of washing (which was a hassle because I would have to venture out into the wild and cold weather just to wash my knickers) I would end up having to scoop handfuls of mouldy, slimey, smelly and generally vomit enducing shit from the detergent trays - every bloody time. Ok so this isn't strictly freaky behaviour but it is never the less bloody well annoying.

Bare with me, I am nearly at the end of my story.

Finally we get to Flat#5 - the apartment that we now own in the centre of the bustling town of Oban (keeping my anonimity in this post is difficult). We live on the first floor of the apartment block, there are only two apartments thankfully. When we first moved in, we met the family above us (husband, wife 2 children) and they seemed rather nice. That was until the sun set (actually I added that bit in for dramatic effect, in actual fact it didn't matter what time it was) the woman upstairs turned into a banshee. I have never heard anyone yell like that before in my entire life, and I come from and ethnic family so I know all about yelling. The lungs on this woman, woooo weeeee and the language, it even made me blush. She would scream and scream and scream until we think she popped a vein. One night she was going on such a bender, and we knew the husband wasn't there so she was yelling at her kids, that the G-man and I were tempted to go up there and see if everything was ok. Alas we didn't, we were too frightened of her - a truly big Scottish lass that you didn't want to mess with. The odd thing was, when she would see us in the street she would talk in an inaudiable whisper, acting all shy and sweet - as if we couldn't hear her? An absolute nut job, the frightening thing was that the poor boy had to go to hospital all the time, on a weekly basis. We think the poor child's nerves had packed up on him.

Now we have new neighbours as the previous ones sold their apartment. It is being rented out now by two children! Well that is what they look like to us, you can tell we are getting older (I refuse to use the word old) because they look like babies and we have come to the conclusion that they are some strange hybrid vampires that can walk about in daylight because they never ever sleep. I mean never, it doesn't matter if I get up at 2, 3 or 4 am in the morning they are trotting about upstairs, talking watching TV and going in and out of the apartment! How is that possible, don't they need to sleep? God knows I bloody well do! The other strange thing about them is this one time, I sent the G-man upstairs to tell them that the bins had to go out that night. I hear a bit of muffled speech and when the G-man came back inside he has a really strange look on his face.

Me: what's up with you?
G-man: huh? oh I think our neighbours are weird?
Me: Shock horror, why?
G-man : well I went up to let them know that the bin had to go out tonight and well she refused to open the door and talk to me
Me: what?
G-man: she said what? who is it? what do you want? who's there? so I said it's ***** from downstairs, umm just wanted to let you know the bins are to go out tonight, then she said I can't open the door! My boyfriend has the keys and he has locked me in the apartment.
Me: WHAT? I don't get it. What did you say?
G-man: Well I said - oh .... ok .... ummm and then she said i'll tell my boyfriend when he gets home and then I just backed away from the door and came back here.
Me: is she ok? did you ask if she was ok? do you think she has been kidnappped or abused?
G-man: well, I don't know but it's weird don't you think?
Me: *silently thinking back over all the strange neighbours we've had* I suppose, what do you fancy for dinner?

So there you have it. We are freak magnets, I wonder what freaky neighbours are out there waiting for us?

****sorry for any spelling/gramatical mistakes I'm writing this during my lunch break OMG is that the time - shite*****

Neighbours Everybody Needs Good Neighbours

The G-man and I seem to attract the weirdest neighbours in the whole UNIVERSE, no really it is true, actually I even think that it is a scientific fact proven by strange little equations scribbled on a white board during the night. No seriously it has to be true, that either the G-man or myself posses the uncanny ability to attract … … freaks and not the nice freaks that you want to hang out with smoke dope and drink copious amounts of alcohol with. No these are the freaks that actually make you want to take one step backwards.

I shall start at the beginning, that’s always a rational and logical place to start.

Flat #1: Seemed like the dream house in a quiet area of Adelaide, a little strata title dooflaky thing with about 6 places in the cul de sac. 2 bedroom place, sweet little garden out the back, garage, and generally really nice and a good price too. Can’t go wrong with that now can you? Ooooooh yes you can big styley.

Firstly the chairman of the strata was a complete and utter whack job and I mean seriously. He would get around with his road kill for an excuse of a toupee slapped on his head and shorts that were so short that they should be made illegal telling everyone off for all sorts of minor infringements on the strata policy. He even marched up to the G-man’s youngest brother while he was helping us move in and said “we don’t want people like you living here you look like some kind of bikie” He spat the words out at the poor guy with pure venom. Ok so G-man’s brother does look a bit like a bikie (in the stereotypical sense), he is absolutely massive, I mean tall and built like a brick shit house, has a long long goatee and a shaved head, however that does not mean that he is drug dealing, gun toting gang member. In fact he is the sweetest guy you could meet. Just don’t ever cross him or his family, you could live to regret it, but then the same could be said for me as well.

Then the psycho girl from hell moved into the house next to us. At first she was all sweetness and light, she and her younger brother moved in, they were from country South Australia, and she was studying at Uni or something. Then things got a little psycho. She would scream at the top of her lungs and my God she had a pair of lungs on her, she would scream at her poor down trodden brother at all hours of the night. She would run screaming after her boyfriend who had sped away, tyres squealing on the asphalt to get away from the nut job night after night. This went of for god only knows how long, until I screamed back through the gyp rock walls “shut the fuck up or I will break your back!” (I actually don’t remember saying this as I was asleep but it certainly got a reaction.)

Flat #2: Then we moved to Tokyo. We were expecting weird there so it didn’t really come as too much of a shock when our neighbours did in fact turn out to be freaks. The crap thing was that the MANSION that we lived in was a shoe box … literally it was 13m2 . Yep the whole flat, bathroom, kitchen, lounge and loft.

On one side of us we had Mr Cough Up A Lung, who would every night proceed to do exactly what his name suggests. On the other side we had Try Hard Band Member, who would practice his interpretation of music and underneath us we had Complain All the Time Slapper, who would stomp up the stairs, yell at us in Japanese for something and then have copious amounts of loud sex.

I might just stop here as this will be a mega long post if I don’t and put this little bit at the bottom.

To Be Continued … …

A Timeless Battle

There is a timeless battle I feel between urges, especially the ones that creep up on you at 3 in the morning. This is the all time battle between the urge to wee, to get a drink or to go back to sweet sweet slumber.

For the past week or so I have had to contend with said battle nearly every night / early morning. I wake up, with a bladder the size of a football and a gob like Ghandi’s slipper ! However, the urge to just roll over and go back to sleep is ever so strong, but I know if I do that I will either have dreams where I am constantly weeing but not getting any relieve or sense of satisfaction, or I will dream that I am searching desperately for a drink (a bit like real life actually). A conundrum indeed, so the only option is to get up, but in what order? Shall I go to the loo first and then get a drink, or do I get a drink and then go to the loo? Either way I am probably going to have to be pretty much fully awake, although you can wee with your eyes shut.

So I finally decide that something needs to be done, I am nearly fully awake now anyway so I shall go do a wee, get a drink and then slip blissfully back to sleep right? Well the first two seem to go without a hitch, but the going back to sleep thing … … well this poses to be a bit of a problem now because I am now wide awake, as wide a wake as possible, actually I think that I am more wide awake now than I am when I am at work!

I flip flop around in bed, desperately seeking that most comfortable position, but fail miserably to locate it and only stop moving about when not only is the G-man starting to get pissed off at me, but that the cat gives me a grumpy look, stomps on my head and snuggles up on the blanket on the floor. Must get to sleep, must get to sleep, got to get up uber early tomorrow oh no today (this is the mantra that is spinning around my head by now). Sleep does finally arrive, but only after I have thought about a bazillion things that I need to do, and panicked about things that I may have forgotten to do at work yesterday.

Where I go wrong, I do believe is that when I first get up I make the fatal mistake of looking at the clock and then going ‘oh crap it’s 4:30am only a couple of hours before I have to get up and go to work, bugger, shit, bugger’.

So here are my choices the next time this happens:

1. Don’t get up and relieve bodily functions, but continue to sleep hoping desperately that I won’t wet the bed and my mouth won’t seal shut for an eternity due to the lack of hydration (some may say the mouth sealing is a good thing)

2. Get up and go about business without opening eyes and hope I don’t crash into something.

3. Get up, go about business with eyes half open but DO NOT LOOK AT CLOCK.

Is your boss and idiot?

A MAJORITY of Australian workers - some 57.7 per cent -believe their boss is completely ineffective, according to a new survey.

Talent2 CEO John Rawlinson, whose company led the survey, described the finding as a wake-up call for employers. "Employees truly believe their employers should be able to perform their job with a superior skill level and thus to obtain the respect of their charges,'' he said.

"It is no longer sufficient for bosses to expect their employees to carry the load.'' From www.news.com.au


Now this comes as a surprise to me (note high levels of sarcasm here). I must admit that during my expansive working career, I have only had one boss that I really respected, admired and looked up to and that was when I was working in Tokyo. All my other bosses have been completely and utterly incompetent and I had absolutely no respect for them what so ever. Is that bad of me? Should I look up to my bosses as if they were some Jedi Knight or Shaolin pen pusher?

I guess it is hard to respect someone who doesn’t really respect you and I think that’s what it basically boils down to in the end. I’ll respect you if you stop treating me like some 16 year old school girl who has never worked a day in her life before. I find patronising your staff doesn’t work, treat me like an equal, listen to my ideas and thoughts and give constructive criticism – the operative word being constructive here. Don’t shoot me down in flames when I have a brainwave, yell and scream at me because I wasn’t willing to say “how high” when you said JUMP and don’t whatever you do say to me “when you are older you will understand” how much bloody older do I have to be, for Christ’s sake I am old enough to have a pre-teen child!

When I was working in Tokyo I had an internship for an all female language teaching organisation (all female students, all female teachers – reduces the amount of either student and or teacher hitting on each other). The woman who set the whole organisation up was amazing, she really was. She started off in Tokyo teaching English then decided to write a book about ‘gaijin’ (foreign) women’s experiences in Japan in order to help other women who were thinking about moving or already living in Japan. Now she runs seminars, helps find women jobs and offers a real community support network for women living in Japan – check out her website http://www.being-a-broad.com/


The real stand out difference was that she treated everyone as equals, never spoke down to anyone, never yelled at anyone and never expected anyone to work ridiculous hours. In fact she would sometimes actually leave the office at around 5:30pm so that the Japanese workers would feel it is ok to go home and then if she had any other work she would come back after she had a coffee or she would tell them to go home.

Now I find that all my subsequent bosses have had little to no respect for me, maybe I am imagining it, I don’t know. However, I get the feeling that when my previous boss said to me “we’re going to a big meeting tomorrow how about you put a short black dress on”, he wasn’t interested in my views on the current market trends and potential hot spots for increased sales through my new sales plan.

The thing that really shitted me off when I was working for Mr Nobb Ed, was that the only people who ever got anything or anywhere where the women who giggled at all his jokes, smiled gooey eyed at him when he was in the room and massaged his ego (I was going to use another ‘m’ word there but I actually felt physically sick thinking about it).

I tried it once and only once, that night I scrubbed myself raw with my loofa because I was so ashamed and felt so dirty. Plus I just couldn’t pull it off, it always came out dripping with sarcastic acid, I don’t know why, must’ve be my intonation.

So now one of my current bosses thinks that I don’t have enough work to do. Frankly that is bullshit, I don’t get nearly enough time to read all the blogs that I want to during my lunch break, so that obviously means that I am over worked.

Work is a major hindrance to everyone’s social life, so why make it even more painful?

Work to live, not live to work that is my motto and if they don’t like it – eh what are they gonna do about it?

Broody

Don't know what's going on with me, but lately I have been uber broody. Everytime someone walks past with a baby I get this strange feeling and go all gooey. Think it might have something to do with the fact that this Thursday I turn 28 and I have come to the conclusion that I want to have at least one child before I am 30. The hard thing is that I am all the way over here in the UK and my family are all the way back in Australia and I really really wanted to start our family back home with all our annoying family around offering us pearls of wisdom, but I get the feeling this isn't going to be the case now.

So I guess I better just bite the bullet .. ... .. right? But then I have these thoughts, what if I can't get pregnant? What then? Do we go through IVF treatment? Can I cope with that, or do we adopt or just have a house full of cats and treat them as our children?

Then we have friends here who say to us 'you have to make sure you can afford children before you have them' but really when will you ever have enough money to start a family? People have children all the time and they cope as I am sure I will. So I might scar them with my overt strangeness, thus leaving them with pyschological problems that will affect them for the rest of their lives ..... ..... never did me any harm, I turned out alright.

Maybe this feeling will pass, maybe it won't.

All talk

I’m one of these people who is well, let’s just say all talk and no action and by that I don’t mean in the sack, because beautiful peoples I am a TIGERRRRRRRRRRRR babies and don’t you forget it, whips, hand cuffs, licky offy stuff … .. ahem where was I? Oh yeah all talk, and no action like “just you wait until I see so and so I am going to give them one hell of a talking down to” or “if he/she ever looks at me again I will personally fork their eyes out” and then actually not do a thing when I see said person except feel the ball of rage build up in my stomach and then explode in the privacy of my own or my husband’s company, however there have been one or two exceptions to that rule.

Anyways, yesterday I was happily sitting in my office, busy at work (reading blogs, watching anime, singing to the radio) when I noticed one of the guys who works on the same site as me with his brand new boxer puppy dog walk past. He stopped, dead in front of my window. A tad bit disconcerting as we awkwardly stared at each other and he waited for his dog that was now outside my window. I presumed sniffing around and thought nothing of it.

Now I really should have prefaced this story with an explanation about the guy on the site with the boxer dog. He is well, how do I put this, umm …. …. Scary. Apparently he is what is commonly called around here a “gadgy” which means a gypsy, or someone who lives in a static caravan. Now for the past 2 and half years I didn’t realise that this term was actually an insult, I just thought it meant someone who worked with gadgets – like this person does; thank GOD I never used it to his face because he probably would have hit me. So because of his chosen life style, he isn’t let’s say the cleanest person in the world, I’ve been in a local pub and noticed that his smell enters through the doors before he does ! Anyway I don’t really want to get into a long and painful diatribe about his personal hygiene habits because frankly he has none.

So, finally the dog runs off and Mr Stinky leaves me in peace. A couple of hours later the G-man drops by my office, to check on emails and stuff. I go out to meet him at his car and as I do so I notice a massive, hot, steaming dog turd outside my friggin window !! Bloody brilliant, how nice is that ? So off I go:

“Oh fucking hell, will you look at that? For fuck’s sake how hard is it to clean up after your dog. I fucking hate that. I tell you what next time I see him I am going to give him what for, and tell him to clean up after his fucking dog. I mean honestly” By the end of this little episode I had turned around and who should be standing at the door of the shed right near my office yep that’s right Mr Stinky and his massive shit making machine of a dog. Ohhhhh fuck.

I quickly hurried the G-man into my office, trying not to show any sign of emotion on my face, whilst my stomach is in knots and quickly and quietly locked the office door.

See what I mean what a pussy, I should have confronted him then and there, but quite frankly he scares me. Let’s just hope I don’t have to bump into him anytime soon, because I am sure as hell he heard me banging on and on about his dog.

That monday feelin

Thank God it is 4pm so I can go home and cuddle my pussy cat.

Battles with a G-string

Who would've thought you could struggle to put a g-string on? Obviously someone as thick as I am can.

All day it felt completely uncomfortable and well ... ... just wrong. It wasn't until I got home from work undressed to have a shower when I had put my damn g-string on the wrong way. When I say the wrong way I don't mean back to front or anything like that, what I mean is that I had put my legs through the wrong holes .. is that making any sense? Probably not anyway that is really besides the point, the point is that I am a spazz and even after going to wee every five seconds at work (I can't do anything else unless I am in the privacy of my own home, I know how retentive is that?) I never noticed!

When the G-man got home I said to him that I had put my G on wrong and I hadn't noticed and you know what he said to me? "Oh yeah I noticed that in the morning, didn't know why you were doing it though" WHAT WHAT WHAT ! You noticed that I had put my undies on wrong and you didn't think to mention it to me? And then he says to me "why did you do that?" Like I meant to fucking put my g-string on the wrong way just for the hell of it! I did it because of a few factors - they were black, it was 6am in the morning and I was still 3/4's asleep and couldn't really see what I was doing.

Anyway who thought you could get it so wrong, thankfully I put all my other clothes on the right way.

All you need is a good rant

Redcap kindly tagged me for this great meme. Thanks mate I needed a good rant, it has been one of those weeks you know?
So here it is, in no particular order - 10 things I hate about other people.

1. Rumours.
For obvious reasons, see my post Rumour 1 I hate people who obviously have nothing better to do with their time than generate or partake in the rumour mill. It drives me absolutely mad ! If you have the time and energy to come up with absolute shit why don’t you divert that energy into something useful, like I don’t know getting a life, wankers.

2. People who talk to you like an imbecile because you haven’t done a Phd.
Hey go fuck yourselves you self indulged pricks. Just because people don’t have a Phd, Bsc, Hons, or whatever after their names doesn’t mean you have the right to talk to them as though they have only one brain cell and learnt to read only five minutes ago. So you spent half your life with your head up your or someone else’s arse in a dusty academic environment, pontificating with people who all think the same, big whoop, good for you! If that is what you’re into fan-bloody-tastic but don’t talk to me like an idiot ok?

3. People treating you like shit in shops
This is a two fold nark – firstly I friggin hate people who treat you like shit because you’ve walked into a shop with your comfy jeans and jumper on. Hey people this doesn’t mean that I want to steal from your shop and it certainly doesn’t mean that I don’t have enough money to spend in your shop so stop following me around and looking down your nose at me. Second I bloody well hate it when you go up the check out or ask for help or whatever and the sales assistant has a face like a smacked arse. Well sooooorrrrrry for interrupting your mind numbing conversation so that you can actually do your fucking job. It is known as the hospitality industry not the hostility industry people, if you don’t want to work as a sales assistant, if that is too shit a job for you why don’t you just bog off.

4. People who go to Indian/Chinese/Thai restaurants and order steak and chips.
What the hell is that all about? I swear to God, the G-man and I went out for an Indian the other week and a couple rocked up and both ordered steak and chips! What the fuck! What are you doing at an Indian restaurant if you don’t even want to eat the food there?


5. Air quotations.
Need I say more?

6. People who chastise me for not being a recycling/charity donating freak.
Oh come on for pity’s sake, do you really think you are making that much of a difference? I mean honestly the time and effort that goes into recycling is it really worth it? Ok if everyone does it then we could make a difference blah blah blah but really when you work out the amount of waste product produced by recycling factories and the chemicals actually used to break down the material the net benefit of recycling is practically nothing! Oh and don’t get me started on fucking carbon footprints. I like my cheap Easyjet or Ryanair flights to Spain and Greece and anywhere that is warm, so I get what a couple of holiday’s a year why am I being harassed for this? Honestly why aren’t we harassing people like Madonna etc, how big must their footprint be? Oh and what really gets me is all these famous people telling me that I should donate all my money to help end poverty. It is a noble cause and yes I agree with their arguments for wiping 3rd world debt … … so here’s a fucking idea why don’t they donate their loose change I am sure that could buy a small country!

7. People who ring you on their mobile and hang up when you answer.
Ooooooooooooooooooooooo this shits me. Are they that tight that they can’t even afford a phone call? I understand it is a mobile call so obviously I am not going to be on there for hours, but really what makes you think that I can afford to call you all the time?

8. People who think racist jokes are funny.
They’re not funny, they never were and they never will be so don’t get offended when I tell you that you are a racist prick.

9. Being depressed or suicidal isn’t a fashion statement.
Depression is a serious disease, it is not a sign that you are cool. I have known far too many people who have suffered from this disease and (ok I am going to say it) …. So have I and I tell you what it is far from being fucking cool, so do us all a favour and actually be happy with your life before it is all gone and you are old and wrinkly and wished that you had fun with your life.

10. People who are defined by material wealth.
Oh so you have a brand new car, big fuck off diamond engagement ring and the big house in the right area. What does it all mean in the end? If you are defined by the material possessions you own then you lead a very sad existence. Ok I am not saying that I am immune to it, of course I am not but I try not to judge people who aren’t as well off as I am and I try not to define myself by what I own. Why should I care if they bought their shoes at Tesco’s or Sainsbury’s (supermarkets) at least they give me the time of day when I speak to them and not look at me like something they scrapped off the soles of their shoes.

Loving the hospital flirt

I am typing this blog entry like a monkey with a gimpy arm - a pretty site I assure you.

I had to go to hospital on Monday to have some day surgery, the surgeon who had a good ol' feel of my tit a couple of weeks ago noticed some moles on my back and said he wasn't happy about how they looked. I said 'hey mate they don't think much of you either' ... no I lie, I didn't say anything besides 'oh ... ... ok so you want to cut them out? umm ok sure' as you do when you are told that the moles on your back are potentially malignant little bastards. So anyway, went into hospital at 9am, hung around with old people with strange growths on their faces and necks (yikes! tried not to look but you can't help it) and then got walked into the theatre waiting area, where the nurses proceeded to prod and poke at my back, told me to strip my top off and put this gowny thing on. No worries mate, done ! Not panicking at all - what is that loud thumping sound in my chest ?

After sitting there for an eternity, the surgeon comes out, yells out to the other surgeon to get me 'prepped' and this hot young surgeon walks through the swing doors and comes my way (all done in slow motion by the way). He walks up to me, by this time I am thinking Oh my god, does my breath stink, and my hair, would you look at my hair I look like a tardo in this gowny thing and my TITS are just hanging here under this thin veil ! Oh my god !

He comes up to me and introduces himself to me, I sit bolt upright, clasping my top to prevent it from falling off and shake his hands and then something strange happened. He introduced himself again, emphasising his first name and we had this eye lock thing happen - it felt like it lasted for friggin ever. Meanwhile the nurse is standing there with the needle staring at us, so I do this stupid smile and say 'ha so i suppose you want to jab me?' WHAT ? WHAT did I just say?? What a dick !

I can't believe I actually said that, what the hell was I thinking?

Anyway fast forward to the cutty outty bit of the operation ... ... so while he is swabbing my back and half way down my right tit, he is making all these jokes, I suppose it was to relax me, he got the moles out and then after he had finished stitching me up and I was being cleaned by the nurses he says to me 'I hope to see you around here again .. soon' to which I replied 'ah yeah'

What the hell does that mean? umm no actually I don't wish to be in hospital again being cut open .. ... ... although if it is by a really hot surgeon you just never know do you, let me just check if there are any other moles that I could get cut out !

I Am The Stripping Queen !

Yep it is official, I am now the Stripping Queen
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Wallpaper stripping right enough !

For the past 3 days I have been stood in the lounge room with a big fuck off steamer, a scraper and my pussy watching me from the cat tree stripping wallpaper. Does life get any better than this? Surely not, it can't because I think I would faint from the dizzying excitement.

I challenge, CHALLENGE anyone to tell me that wallpaper is a good idea, it is a bitch to put on and it is a fucker to take off, especially if the lazy bastards who owned the place before you couldn't be arsed taking it off and just painted over it ! ARSEHOLES.

However, there is a plus side to this. It gives me ample time to:

1.Sing loudly to myself over the 'pfffffffffffffssssssssssshhhhhhhhhfffffffft' of the steamer - song of choice right now - 'Beyoncee Beyonceeee, Shakira Shakira' Ok people we get what their names are for fuck's sake. (This is all done while I do a stupid dance at the same time - too stupid at this time to describe).

2. Drink strange and foreign beer bought from my favourite shop Lidl.

3. Compare peeling wallpaper off to the time when you got badly burnt, to almost a crisp one summer and wads of skin would peel off, and you did this with some strange satisfaction.

4. Talk to the cat as if it is a real person, while the G-man keeps shouting from the kitchen or where ever 'what? what did you say? are you talking to me?'

5. Get sticky wet wallpaper bits stuck to bits of me without actually knowing how I have done this.

All in all a facinating and insightful experience.

Cops and Robbers

Ahhhh brilliant.

This was a stunt pulled off by a couple of students in Middlesborough during a military parade.
Well done lads !

My Flap

I ripped my flap off ... ... well that sounds bad doesn't it?

What actually happened is this. Last week I was making a loverly dinner (of course) and whilst I was being mega careful with the very new and very very sharp knives that we had just bought I neglected to worry about the new vegetable peeler that we bought. Bah, veggie peeler what can it do to me BESIDES PEEL THROUGH AN INCH THICK LAYER OF SKIN ON MY FRIGGIN THUMB ! I did the obligatory pain dance in the kitchen whilst looking for a band aid.

Ok so I dealt with that, and so then I had this massive flap of skin on the side of my thumb, that would constantly flap back and forth causing the gaping wound to bleed profusely whenever I forgot to put a band aid on it noice, I even managed to shove my flap into the G-man's face only to have him reel away in disgust.

Anyway, the other night we went into the supermarket to get a few things (alcohol & frozen pizza) the G-man and I went to grab the same bag of half price doughnuts off the shelve and his talon of a fingernail lodged into my thumb and proceeded to rip off the flap of skin with such force that I froze in white pain then said at the top of my lungs:

"You ripped my flap off spazztard, now look at the blood everywhere, my flap look at it !!"

There was total silence, the woman next to us dropped her eggs and in another aisle somewhere a young child started to cry. We went up to the checkout, paid for our stuff and walked out of the shop I was still muttering "you ripped my flap of man, look at it" to which the G-man replied "will you shut up about your bloody flap, it's not like I cut your thumb off now lets hurry up and get the hell outta here"

Only Stupid People Are Breeding

I swear it is true, that only stupid people are breeding, with the exception of a few i.e my friends of course! But in general it has to be true. I am so fucking tired that it is unbelievable, I mean words can not begin to describe how utterly tired I actually am, thus the reason for me writing this instead of doing my work. Plus it is a public holiday here and it feels as though I am the only stupid wanker at work today!

So, after a relaxing day of choosing what colour schemes we wanted, furniture, kitchens and flat screen TV's in our apartment (excitement levels rising) the G-Man and I thought we would go for a brief walk around the block then settle in to a nice night of reading - very civilised I know. Ok, so we ran out of alcohol and couldn't be rat arsed walking down to the supermarket to buy anything as we had spent all our precious cold coins on Saturday drinking cider.

It got to about 11pm, the people in the apartment above us had finally stopped screaming at the top of their lungs (thankfully they are selling their apartment), and I fell asleep while reading my book, in what was a very attractive position with my head hung back and to the side with apparently a little of bit dribble making its way down my chin. I do not believe this for one instant and said to my man that I needed photographic evidence of this anyway this is besides the point, the next thing I know I am awoken out of my slumber by BANG BANG ...... BANG BANG ........ BANG BANG BANG ......BANG.

'Fucking hell, what is that?' I murmured trying desperately not to fully slide out of sleep.

'Dunno, surely it isn't them upstairs is it?'

'Could be, they might be having sex ....' I shudder at the thought and had images of sex romps from the movie My SuperExgirlfriend.

Although it was annoying, we somehow fell back asleep but then .... then the power saw started!

'Fuck Me!' I sat bolt upright in bed - 'that is definitely not coming from upstairs surely, what are they doing renovating at this time of the night/morning? It's fucking 2am in the morning for Christ's sake!'

We sat there, still and with our ears pricked. We turned and looked at each other:

'It's coming from the shop underneath us!'

'That's it, I'm going down and giving them whats for!'

The G-Man rolls out of bed (remember we only have a mattress at this stage) and violently pulls his jeans and jumper on, grabs his keys and storms out the door. At this stage, I am wondering what the hell has just happened, and the cat rolls over to make my other leg fall asleep and get pins and needles.

There was some murmuring, and then the noise stopped. After what felt like an eternity, the G-Man comes back in.

'So ... what happened then?'

'It is those fuckers in the take away shop on the other side, you know near the stairs? Well I tapped on the window and there were these two faces staring back at me, power tools in hand with their slack jaws hanging open. I said to them " You do realise that there are people in this apartment building and we are trying to sleep?" They said nothing, and just continued to stare at me. Then one of them says "Oh are we making too much noise?" So I said to them "You could say that, yes" and walked away.'

'Oh. Seems to have worked then.'

Are we making too much noise? ARE WE MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE? No you fucking imbeciles you are quiet as fucking door mice, but we just felt like coming downstairs at 2am in the morning to have a friendly chat and check out what kind of wood you are using for those stupid fucking shelves you are putting up!

Idiots!

So beware stupid people if you ring me today, I am in a much more foul mood than usual....

All grown up

Well it has finally happened, we are all grown up now. It has only taken how many bloody years? Anyway yesterday we moved into our apartment, our very own place how cool is that and slightly scary, yet cool none the less. So all we have to do now is furnish the place, easy right? Not when you live in the back arse of beyond. We have to wait 2 weeks before our bedroom suite arrives, until then we have

1. mattress on floor
2. fridge
3. hoover
4. cooker
5. microwave

Once we have paid for the bedroom stuff we have to wait until the next pay day to get other stuff - but don't worry we have an ample supply of alcohol in the house, and an emergency fund for necessities such as booze. We are spitting distance to pubs and take out joints, don't worry my junk food and alcohol GPS has already mapped out where we can and no doubt will frequent.

Rumour No.2

So as far as I am aware there are only 2 rumours circulating around this place about me, frankly I am hurt and utterly disappointed although I could be mistaken there may well be more that no one has told me about

Rumour No.2 is a lot more complicated and is so much more hurtful to me because it involved friends, close friends at that.

It goes a little something like this ....

My husband and I became good friends with a couple, one of which we both used to work with until we got fed up with working for a sexist pig with a penis a wasp would laugh at - for the past 4 or so months we have been hanging out with them a lot, pub crawls and just generally getting so pissed that you can't remember your name, you know the normal stuff.

In that time Mr Q and I became really close friends, we have very similar personalities, we drink too much, we like to have a ciggy when we are ultra drunk and we like to take jokes to the nastiest and naughtiest level possible just so that we can grose each other out. Nothing more than that.

A week or so ago, I was told by Mr Q that his wife confronted him about our relationship/friendship. Apparently she was in town and saw an old friend who had told her that people have been talking about Mr Q and myself, our close friendship, the way we looked at each, how we talked to each other and look into each others eyes - weeeeeellllll fuck a doodle do, I don't know about you, but in my culture it is common courtesy to look someone in the eyes when you are in conversation with them ! Apparently she went absolutely fucking nuts, and was ready to come storming over to our place (oh by the way we are staying in their static caravan while we are buying our apartment - I know I can't believe it we are buying a place) Anyway, back to the story, she was going mental, wanting to have it out with me, and well she would have every right to really, if she thought it was happening. But nothing was .... and it really hurt me because I thought that we were all close friends, almost family seeing as we are both gypsys, and then ... ... then it really pissed me off because the people who were saying shit about me, wouldn't even recognise me if they met me in the check out isle at the supermarket ! They don't know me, they don't know what I am like and they sure as hell don't want to meet me in a dark ally anytime soon.

However, unlike my previous post with the psycho wife from hell giving me mega daggers everytime we pass in the street, this little baby has a happy ending... I know about fucking time.

A week or so has gone by, and Ms Q and I have finally had a chat, there were tears, hugs, laughs, tears and more hugs and all I can hope for is that time will heal all wounds.