Wednesday, 27 June 2007

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.

Thursday, 21 June 2007

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.

Monday, 18 June 2007

That monday feelin

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

Wednesday, 13 June 2007

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.

Tuesday, 5 June 2007

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.

Thursday, 31 May 2007

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 !



Thursday, 24 May 2007

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.