Monthly Archives: April 2011

R.I.P MILKY OUR MUCH LOVED GUINEA PIG

Today is a sad sad day.One of our 2 guinea pigs died,his name was Milky. I love my animals with a passion and when Smut Man returned from feeding our piggies this morning he told me of Milky’s passing. I cried and cried. I came outside although I didn’t want to I did.There he was lifeless, our little white/albino piggy. Smut Man dug him a grave and I spoke to Milo his best mate and companion.I am sad for Milo too, as he has lost his mate. We buried Milky in the garden and I bought a little white vase to go on his final resting spot along with some white pebbles.The saddest part is having to tell the kids, they have had fish die but they where still young, the piggies where a birthday present a few years ago for our boy.We are dreading 3pm.So Milky you are free,in red capsicum and cos lettuce heaven.


Reality check.

When the world is dead set against you. Let me set the record straight. I may of been a victim of child abuse and horrific peadophilic acts but I am not a “Victim”. I refuse to let the hurt that sick fuck of a man impede on my everyday life.Having said that I find myself being accutely aware of my surroundings a lot lately.Having a daughter is fucking hard, it kills me to see her growing up, she is beautiful.I am not biased either, she looks nothing like me, she is her own little individual.When I see people looking in her general direction I want to rip their eyes out, same way I feel about my son.They are innocent beautiful and wonderful, what kids are supposed to be.Not tainted, dark, moody and a shell. I felt that way my entire childhood.Like nothing was worth the effort,I hated being a girl.Dressing feminine was not my prefferance.I was an early developer, very unfortunate for me.I would cut my hair, dress masculine and avoided situations where there would be males I did not know.This only led to me being dubbed a lesbian or a weirdo.I will take weirdo.


When I grow up……

When I was a child I had a vivid imagination, one of escapism.I would dream of the perfect family.The mum the dad and siblings that I could play with. Nothing fancy or too far fetched just “Normal”. In reality that wasn’t the case. My father was a mysoginistic bastard who would beat my mother every other day. Before I was born she was a pro in Kings X. He had her working the streets at 16. He was working with my uncle and it was 1971, I guess you could call it the “Hey day” of the seedy strip of road that eventually I would spend 2 decades of my life travelling back and forth to for his jobs. I had many “Uncles” and a lot of pro’s I had to call “Aunty”. I didn’t know any better. Time went past and she fell pregnant with me, he was delighted at the thought of a son..well what a fuck up I was then. A girl. We had a charmed life of money and a social network that spanned from crooks to coppers.I was showered with gifts, so and so would buy me this and that, I didn’t know that these gifts where meant to placate me. 8 days before my 8th birthday she left. It had been planned for some time.He had threatned her in the past that if she ever left and took me he would kill her and everyone that helped her escape.He meant it.So she went alone. I came home from school to find him laying on the floor sobbing with a hand gun by his side.”Your fucking mother is a cunt nothing but a cunt you are just like her”. He did track her down with the help of my uncles.He dragged her back from sydney held her captive for almost a week. He drugged her, beat her until I was brave enough to tell a teacher at school what was happening.The police came, the told him ever so nicely to let her go, and so he did.It took 3 years before I saw her again, but by then the damage was already done.He would go away on business, I would be sent to “the aunties” or “uncles” We owned several “Mens retreats” brothels whatever you want to call them.The children of the workers had a special retreat.Fully equiped with a little kitchen, bathroom and play areas. It was an old mansion in Ourimbah. You can still see it when you drive up the highway, as the RTA requested when the new M1 was being built.The place makes me shudder to this day. He had wired that place up like fort knox.Cameras in every room.The purpose of this was for future bribery, because god knows no politician wants to be caught using the service of a pro even if it is a high end one.

Ok I am going to stop now,I can’t write at great length about these things,I feel ill when I type as it is.But I need to get it out.If I could I would scream it to the world but I can’t.


When the walls close in on you(Not light hearted)

I am 37, I am a survivor of sexual and mental abuse.I was raped by my father and his cronies.Not your run of the mill rock spiders either.Cops, Judges, Detectives and people well up the social ladder. It started when I was 9. These arseholes still have a social standing in the community untainted.I am scared and always have been. I have a family a wonderful family.A husband who watches me suffer and destroy my self esteem who feels like his hands are tied.2 beautiful children.Happy content normal kids.Their mummy prays every night that they are safe and that nothing bad ever befalls them. I am alone at night with my thoughts and fears.Some nights I feel I have the courage to just do it, ring the relative authorities and spill my guts, then be prepared to have a target on the back of my head.The rest of the time I hope that they just die and I can read their obituary and breath just breath. I can be reading the paper and one of them is on the front page, being the do gooder.I want to scream to the world, he fucking raped me, he sliced marks on my arms like a score board, he paid my sick fuck of a father $5000.00 to defile me over and over.I live I love but I am fucking scared. The world is made up of so many sick and twisted cunts that everytime I go out I am always watching.


And so are the days of our lives……………

Here I sit on   a wet Friday arvo, the rain has been consistent the kids have been feral the Smut Man cooked corned beef for dinner.I still loathe the insurance company, the police are still uselss and I am desperate for a holiday.I cannot wait to somewhere other than here.In an overcast city with REAL food REAL clothes and CULTURE, not the culture you find in the back of your fridge either on some cheese that has been hidden from view.Sorry I forgot to publish this dear brain..Ok so it’s the 12th and I still hate all of the above and I STILL NEED CULTURE. I really need to get away from this shiny shity self absorbed hell hole of redneck cockheads and white pants wearing WANKERS.


How to destroy 5 songs in an hour?

ANSWER..Add a junior assembley to them..The horror of hearing songs torn apart and manipulated into EASTER music is enough to make ones ears bleed.Luckily our beautiful little girl had to sing a real song, all dressed in black too.I was so proud of her. She had her outfit all ready last night minus her shirt that I washed with care not to ruin the sequien butterflies on it. She stands out where ever she goes, As blind as I am getting I can still manage to see her in a crowd of other kids with the help of smut man.I am so proud of our son too, today he managed to let go of so many toys and stuff that he holds onto.Aspergers is a hard beast at the best of times but when it comes to possesions it is even worse.He helped his dad and there was a no real arguement.Done and dusted. What began as a hunt for a memory card turned into a fully fledged clean up on the boys room.So all in all it has been a super productive day, with smut man mowing so we have the best lawn in the street as always.


Caught in a time warp.

For the last few days I have been listening to music, I can’t stand television at the moment. I have come to a realisation that I am caught in a time warp of sorts. Music apparently died 2 decades ago in my mind. I implore the so called musicians of today to look beyond their next endorsement or shameless sell off to a commercial.Music is becomming so manufactured and predictable.I loathe it all. Thankfully I have creative genius of a husband who can whip me up a cd in a few hours and whats more it’s free.I stood in a well known music and electronics store yesterday trying to fathom how my music has been labelled “Punk/Emo” the shame of it all not to mention some making it to the POPULAR section.On the bright side it was nice to see Vinyl making a wee comeback.As the Smut man and I perused these albums we realised that we had owned a vast majority of these prior to their re birth…An awful sense of dread came over me..everything old is new again.So I am old by modern day music terms.I do not have an IPOD or an MP3 player thingy.I have a cd player and a huge collection of music spanning the entire spectrum of musical genres.From AC DC to Air Supply, Black Flag to Ben folds Five. We have music for every mood.Marilyn Manson for when I am feeling so angry at the world I really do want to smack someone in the head, to sad melancholy Leonard Cohen on the days when I am feeling nostalgic.Music soothes and music offers creative inspiration if their minds are feeling slow and benign.It motivates it talks to you and sometimes can touch a raw nerve.It creeps up into your subconcious and can stay for days, the same song over and over.I love it.I cannot imagine a life without it.If I lost my hearing I would die, I am blind enough at least with music I can escape my failing sight. Rock and Roll We Salute you.


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