I hate Germs(I wonder if they hate me?)

Seriously I truly hate germs. For a bit over a week I have felt like crap.That snotty & coughing kind of crap,the kind of hot & cold sick you get. I am too old for these stupid germs that reproduce like rabid animals in spring. I don’t “do” sick, I mean I can deal with real diseases but the common cold can just bite my arse. It’s draining & tiresome, I wake at such stupidly early hours needing my puffer & then I cannot get back to sleep. My little girl went on her girst ever camp away this week & I was beside myself. She has never spent time away overnight without either me or her father & here I was pacing the floor the other night like a mad woman. Sometime during the evening when she was gone I actually turned to SmutMan & told him to go and get her. I kid you not I sat here panicking and thinking of every stupid thing that could happen.From bush ticks to broken legs I had worried about it all.She came back to me safe in and in one peice yet she was so very tired. My girl treasures her sleep and she is a very particular sleeper.She has numerous pillows on her bed from fluffy to flat & a body pillow for good measure. At the camp she had to really rough it with ONE pillow, I mean geez how would she cope without her pet pig pillow & her stuffed friends. This was a great distress to her & me, so when she arrived home smelling of a camp fire & dishevelled she promptly put herself in a huge bubble bath & proceeded to tell me all about the trip. She had met a friend, not just any friend but a GOANNA, a friendly one that followed her everywhere she told me.It even appears to of wanted to hop on the bus to come home with her. Not that I dislike lizards but hey we have our resident guinea pig Milo & I highly doubt he would be very happy with a 3 foot long goanna taking up his yard. She told me how the other girls were so stupid and all they did is talk all night to at least 11.30 she reckons even though she had no watch and there wasn’t a clock.She just KNEW it was 11.30 because she could tell.After her bath she threw herself on her bed content to be home with her pillows and rainbow lamp.God I love her, her brother on the other hand did not show much emotion in regards to her absence & while she was away he took over her Wii & DS as you do when your sister is away long enough to create havoc. He did however ask me that night if he could sleep with us, as he felt scared because she wasn’t there in the room next to her(he was missing her greatly).Aspergers has a way of robbing kids of their emotional responses, so we knew it was his way of telling us he was sad & wanted her there.It has been an interesting week full of stories and tissues.I am so happy that it ends tomorrow & the weekend is upon us.So I will plod along with my common cold until next time.


The month of Mourning.

For the longest time in my life I have known how to mourn. I dare say I was born this way, like a genetic imprint on your soul.All good Sicilian woman know how to it’s imperitive we do. This month brings 2 significant reasons to be in perpetual mourning, 4 weeks to be exact.There is actually 3 deceased people but I will get to that. 18 years ago I lost my son,he was stillborn at 25 weeks and 4 days.He was buried by my father as I lay in hospital a blithering mess.I had no counciling no therapy not even a there there it will all be ok.Just a blunt, cut and dry bitch of a nurse who doled out Valium & Morphine every 4 hours.My son was buried in accordance with our custom.He has a plain white cross to mark his resting place.No marble headstone no fancy urns just a plain white cross that I demanded he had.He would of been a grown man this month 18 & my adult son.He is all but a shell and his grave is tended by my best friend who is part of this month of mourning.Rest in Peace my son.The second person I mourn for is a woman I called my aunt & I still do yet we have no genetic links but a beautiful relationship that can only be described as soul saving.This woman was more than my friend she was like a mother unlike the incubator that birthed me.My aunt was strong,independant and full of life.She was small in size but had a mighty heart.She could make a man look feeble,she was unstoppable and a force of pure love.She passed away after a short but cruel fight with cancer.A woman who could not or should I say would not utter a foul word ever no matter her anger or hurt.That was until she became riddled with this vile insidious disease that robbed her of life.I attest my parenting & my humanity to her.She taught me that not all people are evil not all people are here in this world to hurt you.That you can trust people, that you can speak up.She is the reason I am still breathing today.She saved me from the brink & made me see the possibilities. I miss her incredibly but her son. my mate who tends to my sons grave,he is a broken man.He was a young man when she passed and he has never came out through the fog.He is still wandering lost & I worry that he may never return.Rest in Peace my Aunt.

The third person to die was him,the perpertrator of evil,the sperm donor the bastard that gave me life.I do not mourn him I never will.He took his life on the anniversary of my sons death.He was selfish to the end and nobody that vile deserves my tears anymore.

Planes, Goths & Car Hire Woes.

Dear Tiger Airways,

YOU ARE FUCKED.It’s not that I booked with you to fly to Melbourne, no siree I was supposed to book with Virgin, but your company FUCKED ME OVER.Thankfully I am a smart person an did find an alternative way to get there and CHEAPER.So now the Goths are to travel this wide country by vehicle.A hired one as I did manage to get plane tickets home only by the skin of my teeth.SmutMan said “It wouldn’t be a holiday without an adventure” and he is right.We have plotted our trip & booked relavent accomodation along the way so there is nothing to do but pick up the car.I am washing, cleaning, internetting but NOT SMOKING. I am a legend I tell you.Lala the little Goth girl has her wardrobe planned,Sackboy Goth leaves it all to mum.He does not care for clothing styles or co ordinating.He just wears stuff as he told me yesterday when I asked him what he wanted to take.Today we are going to a birthday of a friends son he is 11.Please if there is a god don’t let their ear pearcing squeels push me over the edge to smoke.I already have a Hubba Bubba addiction to replace it.I don’t know how people chew it all day, seriously I had trouble eating food because my jaw was in agony.Not good.Anyway I am off to fold the last of the ddark load.I am such a housewife.

Bruce & The angry phone call.

Dear Bruce,

Whoever you are please never ring my mobile at 9am & start abusing me.Let me set the scene for you. I was sitting in my Pj’s on the lounge after I had finished paying for our accomodation in Melbourne whe my phone rang.Hmm I thought I should answer this in case it’s the doctors cancelling our appointment.NO I was so wrong, I answered the phone only to be berrated by a man named BRUCE. Bruce keeps saying “You know who this is it’s fucking Bruce”.I am sitting listening laughing on the inside.SmutMan comes in to the loungeroom & I hand him the phone, he listens to poor old Bruce rant on about someone putting shit on him  and the person he is directing his anger at is a “Piss ant”.Smut Man kept listening then poor Bruce just hung up.We looked at each other & just laughed, as we visualise Bruce as a short, mullet haired, VB drinking fuckwit who can’t dial a number because his stoned eyes can’t see the keypad.So Bruce where ever you are YOU CAN GET FUCKED TOO.It was a great way to start the day and we have been awaiting a follow up call from Ol Brucey so SmutMan can gee him up.So if you know a Bruce or are a Bruce please do call back I think you need a shoulder to sook on.

Tic Tacs & the Goth.

Today is Day 11 on the goth journey to being smoke free.No goth No that’s my mantra because I hate the name Gary. I have been an super houseworker today.I turned the TV off and put Marilyn Manson on LOUD & off I went.I have cleaned the laundry & the walls.I cleaned mirrors, windows and dusted.I found some errant TicTacs in the fridge courtesy of goth boy.He isn’t a fan of lollies so thanks little man mummy has an alternative to ice blocks.I am normally not a person who eats them either but hey if a super model can live on them so can this old goth.SmutMan & Goth girl have gone walking, I have sent an order of chewing gum and more TicTacs.I am actually feeling a lot better today,though the thought of kicking someone in the head is lingering in the background.You know I think I may actually achieve my goal and be a tea totaling non smoking middle aged Goth.I hate the thought of something having a hold on my mind that I cannot control.SO FUCK YOU SMOKES.

DAY 10, Hand me a hammer.

Dear brain,

How can you call yourself intelligent when a stupid smoke can turn you into a fucking moron.Perhaps you would like a lobotomy.Really if you can stay away from other drugs and alcohol then what is your bloody problem.I think a herion addict would have more will power than you dear brain.So here I sit feeling deflated and shithouse.I need my holiday and I NEED TO STOP SMOKING.

Champix & The Goth Day 9.(Also known as get the fuck out of my face)

Dear world,

Two words FUCK OFF. Ok so I am on day 9 of the trip from hell to quit smoking.The first 7 days are alright, the dose is 0.5mg so there is really no side effects.Day 8 rolled around and so help me I feel like I could rip someones head clear off their shoulders.I feel spewy, shitty & my head hurts. Today I have had 4 smokes, not bad considering I would usually have had a few more.I waver between 15 to 20 smokes a day normally.Though on top of this effort of mine to give up the demon tobacco the little goths & Smut Man have all come down with colds & shitty germs.So I have been running around like a mad goth dispensing Panadol and rubbing menthol crap on their backs.We  are supposed to be going away in 12 days, it’s our 8th wedding anniversary in 3 days & here I am in my pyjamie glory picking up snotty tissues.I have started a whole new addiction at night(shock horror) to super doopers, I eat way too many that I am fairly sure I am beating a path to diabetes.So here I sit cranky and exhausted hoping that I can do this quitting thing without going senile in the process.

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