I ate Santa, I dipped him in tea & bit off his leg...

I ate Santa Claus. I created him and then I ate him. I spent a good two hours with my girls building a house of sugar and icing for him, making a home and a life for him. I gladly let it set and get ready while I made sure he was dressed in the best sugar-coated candy clothes, matching his sugar-coated candy hat. What a sight. What an amazing little man.

I put him on top of the fridge when we were finished with him so he could rest and enjoy his new place. He was quite happy up there in his little house covered in jelly beans and candy. He seemed excited at the prospect of having a snowman for a roommate and a beautiful Christmas tree in his yard. I am a horrible person though and gave the snowman and tree to my girls where they were promptly devoured and enjoyed in all their gingerbread goodness.

My heart ached for Santa and I couldn't stand to see him go too so I left him. I walked away from his home on top of the fridge and put my babies to bed, enjoyed some movies with a good friend and eventually went to bed.

That's when it happened...

My stomach growled and twisted, I knew it was time. This was a moment I knew was inevitable but yet, I still dreaded it. I swiftly arose from my bed and padded into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and trying to avoid eye contact. When I finally did look up what I saw changed my feelings about poor Santa Claus. There he was in all his glory with legs and ass hanging over the top of the fridge practically ready to jump into my mug of steaming hot tea. I reached up, over my head and straight to Santa's little legs, grabbing him and pulling him down to me. I swivelled around and glided back to my room and sat at my desk. I looked at him, smiling up at me with his silly grin and the rest is history. There is nothing left but crumbs and I swept those up this morning.

I ate Santa Claus.

------

Okay people...that has got to be one of the worst things I have ever written....

Get This Widget #000000 #0000FF

The old cliche about hindsight is horribly true....

Here is my hindsight:

I left home. I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life and now I want to go back. However, so many things have changed in these last few weeks that I'm not sure if I'll ever reclaim what it was that I left. I packed up and ran away to what I thought might be a better place, what just may be what both of us needed to really find what we wanted from one another. I thought I had a shining light in this little apartment, a place where I could flourish.

I was dead wrong.

I left my family. Sure, my babies are with me but I left my chosen family; the one who chose me. I left Big Cranky and his Mom who I was closer to than anyone else in this world barring my two best friends. I left two amazing people who took me in and treated me like I was their family, who were always there for me and who loved me without condition. I packed myself, my three babies and, with my head down, blindly went somewhere that I thought was full of promise. Little did I know that all the promise was in the place that I ran from.

What did I leave behind? I look back on broken hearts and I'm not talking about mine. I look back at Big Cranky and losing his fiance of six years and his three kids who are now in another town. He loved us, loved our family. I know I'm still madly in love with him, I never felt any different and part of me thinks that he may still love me but the other part of me knows that it's only me hoping to get back what I lost. The chances of me having back that love? Slim to none but I'm clinging onto hope that one day we can work this out and raise our children together. I feel like I'm mourning a death when I think of losing him to someone who will never fully understand the person that he is - protective, quiet, intelligent, loving and gentle. I want to grab and hold on and never, ever let go again. I never needed him more than I do right now. I want to feel the safety I felt when he held me. When he wrapped his big arms around me, squeezed until I almost couldn't breathe I felt like I was home, like nothing could hurt me, like I never had to worry again. What wouldn't I give just to hold his hand....

As for his mother, I ripped her heart moving those kids. She loves them more than life itself, just as much as her others. She got to enjoy my girls and my little man on a regular basis and I took that away from her. That was one of the most horrible things I have ever done. It wasn't right and certainly wasn't fair to any of us. Now, not only is she and Big Cranky hurting but so are my babies. I miss my cups of tea with her and our long chats and the ability to vent, cry and laugh with someone who never once judged me, never hurt me. A wonderful woman that never had a malicious thought in her mind and I do something almost unspeakable by leaving her son and taking her babies away.

Then there are the kids. They miss their family dearly. They're acting out and just not the same. Miss Lily cries for Big Cranky, Little Miss screams to call her Daddy constantly and Little Man Meatball, he just knows something isn't right. They didn't deserve to lose more family after losing their Grampie in March. Little Miss and the Meatball may not understand but Miss Lily does. However, none of them were equipped with sudden and severe move that I made and now they're missing the family that I ripped them away from.

What happened since I moved?

Since I got here I left a good job at an engineering firm for a shit job in a call centre. I hired a babysitter who, well it doesn't matter because that's another very angry blog all on it's own but my trust in anyone has completely diminished and made me realize even more what an amazing man I left. I found out that I'm sick, quite sick and the doctor's aren't sure what yet. I left Sydney, my family and in doing that my life fell apart. I want to go home and I want to make it right but how exactly do I do that?

I'm staying with Flo on Christmas Eve, one week from today. I'm hoping that I can talk to her and hopefully, smooth things over. We have been talking but I don't think I ever really told her how much I do love her, think of her as a mother and best friend and miss her. I don't think I ever said just how sorry I am. I'm hoping that I can do the same with Big Cranky. I want to make things right with him and whether or not we get back together as a couple, I want him to know he always has a place with me, I'll always be here for him no matter what happens between us. I want him to know that my home is also his, no matter what the situation. I want him to know he'll always have love here and a safe place when he needs it. I only want him to be happy, whether that is with me or someone else but I know that I can't stand to see him upset and hate myself for being the one who hurt him the most. I don't think the words "I'm sorry" will ever cover just how regretful I am.

What are my next steps?

Investigate the babysitter. Leave my crap-tastic job for employment insurance and take the time to make sure my children are safe and cared for. Continue the medical testing to find out just how sick I am, a very scary prospect. Find a home back in Sydney, back in the Pier and get my ass as close to Flo as I can so that she can have her babies back and I can have at least her back in my life. Get Miss Lily back to her old school where her education was valid and challenging, where she isn't missing and crying for her friends. Give Little Miss and Little Man Meatball the ability to see their Nanny and Daddy whenever the mood strikes them. Right this wrong that I made when I left.

What about me?

I'm just waiting....

Body Revolution - An Epic Battle....

Soooo.....the last few times I tried to do this I turned into a raving lunatic and really cut into a few people, told them exactly what I thought of them which really wasn't good. I have no idea where the thought process is going to take me tonight except that I hope it doesn't end up in the draft list with all the other pieces of anger I let fly the last few nights. I'm going to blame the holidays, BAH HUMBUG!!

Tonight I ate chicken and fries and it is wreaking havoc on my stomach. My large intestine has begun a revolution with the small one, led by my stomach which is dragging in my innocent esophagus into the whole revolution and they are all heading a coup of my midsection. I'm sure my liver and kidneys are wearing Che style t-shirts in support, only replace his picture with that of a colon.

Christmas is going to be a blast without being able to eat anything other than broth, steamed fish and veggies. Everything as bland as possible for this nameless demon that is living inside me, instigating this whole situation. I'm going to call on my brain, heart and lungs to stand with me against the revolting digestive system and call on them to lessen their attack, tame the vicious beast they name Cramp and slow the monster called Trots! I'm praying to all things Pepto-Bismol for some relief of the incessant need to....uh...you get the idea.

There you have it people, I'm calling on my neurons to protest my illness, whatever it may be! We'll find out in the next couple of months I'm sure but until then, let's hope that the Power of Bland will prevail and my most visited room in the house will not be the Throne Room any longer!!

Suck it in and shimmy....

I should be getting ready for work, getting Miss Lily ready for school but I just can't bring myself to crawl out of my room. I'm exhausted from having to get up and look at all the boxes that are still unpacked, the rooms that need to be scrubbed, the laundry that needs to be done, the toilet that is just begging for me to stick my hands in and scrub. That throne and I have a love/hate relationship; we can't live without one another but it enjoys getting messy and I hate cleaning the thing. I'm sure one of these days we're going to fall madly in love but that will be the day that this particular porclein god becomes self-cleaning.

Does anyone hate housework as much as I do? I can't stand doing it and at the same time I can't stand a messy house. Right now my apartment is in shambles (mainly because I HATE the place) and it's making me insane. I can't fit all of my stuff into this tiny, craptastic place and therefore, it's in a constant state of nothing fits. I have to give the warnings at the door, makes me feel like an airline stewardess:

"Alright people, upon entering you will find an enormous plethora of boxes and shoes facing you and please excuse the litter box. Once past the porch area, you'll have to suck it in to get into the living room. After arriving in the living room you will have to play a friendly game of Musical Chairs for a seat because there is no room for anything more than a loveseat.

This apartment is self-serve so, if you find you need a drink or snack, take the following precautions when entering the kitchen: 1) to manouver around the table and stove you will have to suck it in, stand on your tippy toes, turn sideways and shimmy through; 2) the stove gets really hot so try not to touch it with belly or bum on your way; 3) you will have to move chairs and a small telephone table to get to the fridge; 4) you will have to get on top of the washer in order to get to the food cupboard. If at any time you have an issue or get stuck entering the kitchen, please yell and I'm sure the nosy neighbours will call someone, make a report of me beating you and help will eventually arrive. Be sure to let the authorities know that I did not force you into the tight situation as I am not going to jail for unlawful confinement - my apartment should.

The bathroom is a whole other story. It's tiny and strange. Just do what you have to in there but be careful of the pinching toilet seat and the lack of shower head.

Bedrooms are off limits but for the simple reason that the kids room is covered by a sea of toys and blankets that, although cleaned every day, is infinite and acts the same as quicksand. Once you go in, you never come out. I'm still looking for my date from last week. My bedroom is just so full of things that you can't move so don't even bother.

Pets: there are two cats and a very large puppy. One little orange cat will vy for your attention and love by constantly rubbing on you. She is harmless. The little black cat, seen only under tables and staring at you from window sills is a Ninja and you must take precautions. The exact precautions I'm not sure of as I am still trying to figure them out but remember to not make direct eye contact and don't make friends with the dog. The dog...oh the dog...she's a big, stupid puppy. When I say big, I'm talking about 80lbs and 10 months old. She gets excited and likes to pee when she meets new people. She's harmless, don't be afraid of her.

There, I think I just wrote a manual for visiting me.

I'm officially a Scrooge...

I spent my day with Miss Neighbour staring at her while she put up some Christmas decorations. It was interesting watching her while she was putting stuff up since she was so damn excited about her little Charlie Brown tree. I was jealous. Honestly, I was completely jealous because I wanted to be that excited for Santa and the holidays. I tortured her though, got back at her by leaving her bathroom a little on the rank side. Yup, that was my revenge for her being so damn happy. I'm sure the holidays are starting to take their toll on me. I'm seeing everyone get so excited about Christmas and New Year's and all I'm thinking about is starting new traditions that I would really rather avoid. It's the first time in five years that the kids won't wake up to have breakfast and presents with their Nanny, Mommy and Daddy. I don't know what is going to happen there. I would love to stay at Nanny's house, just sleep in the spare room and get up with my babies so they can have one last normal Christmas. One big reason for holding out hope that I would be able to give them one last normal Christmas is because they won't have their Grampie this year. The first year without my Dad and I would rather ease them into so much change. Let the loss of Grampie sink in before having to deal with Mommy and Daddy not being together anymore. There is too much loss of family here, it's too much to have to confront on what should be a happy and loving time.

You know, I want to hate him but I can't bring myself to do it. I want scream at him but I can't find the words. I want to love him but I can't stand that he refuses to love me. I want to touch him but I can't stand that he won't touch me back. There are days when I want nothing more than to have him here and to have him home but then days where I'm so glad he's gone. I'm sure anyone who has went through a break-up is understanding how I'm feeling right now. Outside looking cool and indifferent, inside crumbling like a cookie.

There are new people in my life, I'm dating and I'm having fun but my mind always goes back to my family. I miss being a family, more than anything right now. Maybe it's I'm just clinging to an ideal here and I'm desperately grasping onto wishful thinking but I know that I miss my little safety net. It must be the holidays and all this talk of "togetherness" and "hope" and "family" that is really pounding my brain. I'm searching to remember only bad times, hard times and lonely times so that I can remember exactly why it was that I left and, for the most part, that works but then there are days like this where something as simple as watching someone put up decorations makes me wonder if I made a mistake. Only time will tell I guess.

I fully expect good days and bad days. Today was a bad day so I'm pushing for a good one tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me people, cross your fingers that I'm not tearing up over something that never really was...

Anyone have a bug net?

Butterflies?? What the hell is up with the butterflies?? Not the fly around in your backyard kind but the kind that flies around in your belly. I don't like them. I don't like the way they feel, it's weird and I can never interpret exactly what they mean.

Honestly though, you see someone every day, every single blessed day and yet, for some reason, the idea of them coming over for a visit ties your stomach up in knots. No, not with dread or fear but with excitement and anticipation. I don't like it. I should like it because it's not a bad thing but I don't want to because it might turn into a sad thing. Did that make any sense? No? I didn't think so. Maybe it did on some menstral-induced hormone insanity. (Sorry, I know you guys didn't need to know that.)

I'm sitting here and waiting and thinking about making a cup of tea to quell the nerves. They shouldn't be there, those horrible nerves fluttering around in my gut, giving me gas. I don't like them. I've been fighting with them but they're not seeming to go away. I'm hoping that a slight amount of caffeine hinted with a touch of sugar and milk might help. Blech. Any ideas on how to make these damn butterflies go away?? I feel like I'm fifteen for Christ's sakes!

I know, some of you are reading this and saying to yourselves, "dumbass, just talk about it." Well, the answer is no. Plain and simple - no. The only one word sentence in the English language - no. The reason? I'm not ready. Nowhere near ready. I don't want to jump feet first, I don't want put someone on the spot...mainly me. I'm not afraid of rejection, I've had enough to know that you get over it but I'm afraid of labels and definitions. You see, I'm having fun right now and I don't like the idea of sticking a label to or defining what exactly this is that I'm doing/experiencing. I'm having a good time with a good person who puts me at ease and a smile on my face. We have a very entertaining time together, at least it is for me (I try not to speak for other people cause I might be the most boring person on Earth), so I think I should just leave it at that.

You know, if anything comes out of this undefined, unclassified, brandless "thing" than that will be fantastic. What exactly do I want to come out of it?? I don't know, I like it fine just the way it is, thank you and now you can stop asking.

Dating? Don't want to but I guess I have to....crap!

Okay, time for a totally awkward moment here. Apparently I'm going to be dating again whether I like it or not and honestly, I don't like it...not one bit. We're not going to go there right now though because I won't stop venting/stressing/typing/freaking. Now with that said, my well intentioned friends are either trying to set me up or coach me on how to pick someone up. Alright, "pick up" is the wrong choice of words there, I should be saying "ask someone out". I don't think I can do it to be honest, I'm still pretty fragile right now and I don't think I could handle someone saying, "with you? No way." I'm sure they'd be nicer but that's how it would sound in my brain. Psychological issues? Not really, just a broken heart.

So, one good friend is telling me that I am not allowed to date anyone without him meeting them first. This is all after a horrible, horrible date that left me reeling a little bit. You see, Arnold can come across as being a little overprotective of me and I love him to death for that but I think it might be difficult to explain to people that I'm not allowed to say yes or no until they meet my friend and he gives his approval. Almost sounds pimp-like. It's the farthest thing from that honestly, merely a good man looking out for his somewhat vulnerable friend. Sweetie. I wanna hug him every time I see him and for no other reason than he gives a damn.

Another friend is telling me just to jump in feet first and start asking whoever I happen to have a crush on for a date. Be aggressive in the 21st century. "Christ woman! Look at what you used to do! (insert reference to Lady A). Get some balls and just ask the guy!" I can't do that, I'm a freakshow, I know. Maybe she's right though, maybe I should just be aggressive. No, I changed my mind, I don't wanna be. I want to be the one who is pursued this time. Not in a creepy way either.

I think Maggpie is offering some of the best advice. It came in the form of text messages all day at work today and they read exactly like this:

• 
  
  Don't avoid accidental eye contact, make lots of accidental eye contact because even if you can't say anything, eye contact is great. Usually flusters them.


• 
  
  Flirt a little and if he doesn't ask you in a couple of days, you ask him. But seriously, lots of flirty eye contact. I may not be able to keep a man in my life but I sure as hell know how to catch em.


• 
  
  Its all in the eyes, seriously!! Try to catch his eye a couple of times a day and don't look away too quick...not more than two times or you will look nuts!! And smile when he catches you looking, just a little, lol. Keep smiling when you look away, downwards is always best because it says, "ooops I got caught and now I'm shy about it."


• 
  
  Bat your lashes.

Okay, I don't really get it because I think it's me subconsciously doing all of those things that got me into this trouble in the first place. Am I really ready for all of this nonsense?? I don't think I am. Does anyone else have advice besides batting my lashes or jumping someone?

That's it, I give up. I'm not dating, it's too complicated before I even started.

"The Contract" -- Definitely Not for Under 18

Two very close friends of mine are also two very insane friends of mine. They both decided that they're going to sneak around behind everyone's back to be together for mutual use of the their no-no places, keep most of us in the dark (even though WE ALL KNOW about it) and tell only a couple of people when they want to tell a story that happened when they were alone together. This would be one of those stories....

***Keep in mind people, even though the story is somewhat real, the CONTRACT is an absolute JOKE.***

Picture it: Sydney, 2008. A small bedroom in a shady area of town. Miss X and Mr. Y are laying in bed together after another "secret" tryst; commenting on what just happened and both quite proud of their performances. Miss X explains that she likes pleasing Mr. Y orally and Mr. Y proceeds to tell her that she is very talented in that department. After a few "BJ" jokes, Mr. Y starts to giggle and tells Miss X that no matter who she dates, she is only allowed to use her talented mouth with him. Miss X in her pride, foolishness and light-headed afterglow agrees and suggests a contract to hold her to such a promise. Miss X and Mr. Y are quite proud of their new little joke and so, this blogger friend (being as foolish as the rest of them) has decided to assist them with their contract. Please find it below:

The affirming party, Miss X, hereby submits exclusive rights to the use, benefit and operation of her mouth to one Mr. Y for oral pleasure at his convenience but subject to her physical availability due to employment and family priorities. Mr. Y will be entrusted to properly care for and maintain Miss X's mouth, as listed in this contract during times of oral copulation.

Such contract is subject to further terms and conditions set forth by both parties and agreed to in writing. These amendments shall be attached in triplicate to the original signed contract. Concerns of misuse or neglect will be brought forth to a third-party conciliator to reach a resolution when no agreement can be made between Miss X and Mr. Y, with all meeting notes to be attached to original contract, in triplicate with a conciliation stamp. All conciliatory meetings are to be held in a place where Miss X (being the main aggressor for services thus far) can be comfortable enough to commence any use that she deems to have been being kept from her. At no point should the conciliator remain if any hanky-panky ensues with the exception of explicit invitation.

Congratulations Mr. Y in acquiring such a fundamental and beneficial part of the female anatomy for his exclusive benefit.

Congratulations are also in order for Miss X for being so talented and willing to use her talent for the betterment of her partner.

So, that's it. They're still laughing about it and now when they read this post, they'll have more to laugh at. Anyway, I'm off since two posts in one night is pretty draining and my dog has to go out one last time before bed anyway.

Goodnight crazies!!

Introduction to "Lady A"

Alright. I just finished a cup of tea, took a leak, farted and crawled in bed. Oh, and I farted again once I pulled the blankets up. Settling in for another night, another couple of hours trying to figure out which movie I'm going to fall asleep watching and what time I'm setting my alarm for versus what time I expect I'll actually crawl my ass out of bed. Early day tomorrow for work since I've got to take the kids to the sitter's place and I'm not imagining that getting two babies out the door at 6:30am is going to be an easy task. Ahh well, do what I have to in order to make things work.

====

I'm listening to Bif Naked and forgot just how much I love this girl. I remember looking at her when I was younger and wishing I could look like her and could have the confidence that she exudes. Tattooed and unapologetic. I think I'm slowly getting there, at least the tattooed part. I'm starting to be more of a hardass but honestly, it's just a front to the crumbling, sensitive, emotional wreck I really am. Well, maybe not that bad...today anyway.

====

I should be going to bed since it's going to be a bit of a crazy day tomorrow but I can't stand the thought of laying down just yet. The idea that I didn't get the bathroom completely scrubbed this weekend is really bothering and I know I'm projecting other things that are bothering me and making the bathroom my point of contention, my scapegoat. DAMN YOU TOILET!! Sometimes I wish I finished that psyche degree so I could analyze myself or maybe not. I'd probably have myself committed by now. Of course, my alter ego (Lady A) could eventually take over. I wouldn't mind Lady A taking over, she's a bitch but a nice bitch and can handle just about anything with a level of confidence, temperance and a riding crop.

====

Riding crop? That's what I said. I think it's about time you people met Lady A. She's quiet, even-keeled and not tempermental in the least. Firm and fair. She's got a horribly sarcastic and wicked sense of humour. She teases to the point of breaking, never strays from a promise and has one hell of a right hand slap. She's quick-witted, open-minded and believes everyone deserves an equal chance. However, she also believes everyone can be subject to a spanking, a flogging or cuffing for mishandling her. She has integrity, honesty and balance; mean with rope, better with leather. A true Domme who will curl up like a harmless pussycat if you know her one, little secret....

====

Maybe I will let Lady A out more often...hehehe...you all KNOW I'm crazy now....

God Bless the Main Event...okay, maybe not but it was a good night...

Apple Bottom Jeans - $20 (they were on sale, lol);
6 Pack of Corona - $12;
Cab to the pub - $8;
Hanging out with the best friends anyone could ask for - Priceless.

====

We danced, we laughed and we had one hell of a good time. No drama, no big adventures. There was nothing but a couple of beer and good band that made us dance like no one was watching. It's such a treat to be in the company of people you know love you no matter what and have stood by you through all the bullshit that keeps popping up in your life, regardless of what it is. Maggpie and Miama weren't down from Hali but I know they would've been dancing right with us if they were. It's amazing how through hard times, tragedy and loss we all come together, we all work together to make sure each one of us is going to be alright.

====

Let's see, what did my night consist of? Here's the list:

• Having a Corona/Rev/Mojo/Bacardi fuelled hen session with girls.
• Hitting some loser in the back of the head (long story about that one that we're not getting into, right Miss. Neighbour?)
• Meeting a married tattoo artist who wants to not only finish my arm but apparently sleep with me too....uhm, no way, sorry man I'm not that kind of girl.
• Running away to a pool hall with Jenny from the Block and meet people who knew me as "the girl who their friend went out as for Hallowe'en".
• Going back to the pub to dance more, have one more beer and corner another neighbour by a speaker system while trying to escape the crazy humping dancing dude.
• Going for a slice and spilling way too much information to my neighbours about things they probably just didn't want or need to know.

====

The night was interesting to say the least and I'm really glad I went out. I wasn't going to go since I was cranky, upset and overly emotional yesterday but now that I look back, I needed that escape. Oh man, what a night. All I can do is shake my head and smile. I don't want a lot of those nights but once in a while is good. We all need time to be stupid and last night I took the time to just be stupid and enjoy myself.

Emotional Combustion...

Pardon me while I burst. Yup. Incubus. Great band who are oddly in touch with what I feel like doing at this particular time. I need to get out of this house or I'm literally going to explode. I need to go and surround myself with people who feel normal and are normal instead of sitting in this tiny apartment stewing my juices being tempermental, emotional and insane. There is a lot of bullshit, a lot of things I wish I had done or said or ignored that are coupled with all the things that I did not do or say or ignore. There are regrets, wishes and a lot of pent up, passive-aggressive fuck-ups that seems to come creeping in at the most inopportune time reminding me of things I wanted and lost.

===

Who knew that a drive to Sydney would have such an effect? Do I miss having a family so much that I can become broken-hearted simply by passing through the town where we had spent so much time together? I guess the answer would be yes. I guess I'm just not ready to let go of hope yet. I suppose that I just can't let the idea of having my family all together again slip out of my grasp just yet, not now. Is that a bad thing? Is it horrible to hang onto hope like that?? I wish I could just loosen the grip and let it fade away. Suck it up, pull it in, grab the freedom and move on. Date again?? No fucking way. I'm done for now. I'm still pretty broken, burned and bitter and there is no way on this green earth I'm ready for it. It's going to take one hell of a man to make me turn my head.

===

Those of you who know my story probably think I'm completely insane right now and you know, you're probably right.

TATTOOS!!!

I'm ready to throw up my hands and just give up!! That's it people, I'm done. There has never been a crazier, more complicated, insane time in my life right now. I wiped my ass this morning and was able to wipe my nose at the same time. (That was a really bad analogy of my head being in my ass.) Laugh, it was funny. Seriously.

So, as of yesterday, I had two broken computers. The desktop is refusing to acknowledge that it has a monitor. Bugger. I can fix it but I'm just too damn lazy. Yesterday the laptop (excuse me, "portable") decided it didn't like me either and was failing start-up. This little hiatus turned into four hours of Dell tech support, starting with hardware diagnostics (confidence test -- apparently my "portable" has inherited some of my psychological issues), ending in a reinstall and the tech (while remotely logged into my PC) turning on my webcam to find me asleep on the phone while he installed my drivers. Nice. I'm convinced now that it's the Big Man Upstairs telling me to read a damn book for a change.

I really want to finish my tattoo. It's coming up to that time where I need some pain. Physical pain that is, the kind made by sitting in a chair letting some crazy guy dig an ink-filled needle into my arm. It's a relief, a release, an adrenaline cleansing. I'm going to get my sleeve finished and then I'm going to start the other arm and do another sleeve and then maybe start my back and get a back piece but I'm not sure. I want the sleeves, yes, 100%. They're something that I've always wanted. Now that I have almost have of one done, I'm going nuts for it to be finished so I can start more work. How insane is that? I LOVE TATTOOS!! I also need more piercings. Replace the ones that I took out. Maybe I just have a thing for needles?? It could very well be. Uh oh, what if I have a needle fetish? No, I don't have that because it's not a sexual thing for me to get a tattoo/piercing but rather an emotional one, a purge of sorts. It's really very hard to explain but I can honestly say that watching the armband and sun get covered up is very cleansing, like a whole chapter of my life is closing and I'm moving on to something more beautiful....both art wise and life wise.

I have send a HUGE shout out here to Christian MacEachern at East Coast Studios. That boy is one hell of an artist. Thank you bunches man, seeya soon!!

Even when we hate each other, we'll always be a family.

Stuck? What a funny little word. Forks get twisted in the drawer and get STUCK together; tape twists around when you`re wrapping presents and get STUCK together; you stick your tongue to the metal post in the winter and they get STUCK together; people meet, fall in love, have kids, break up and still, they're STUCK together. Why do we say "stuck"? Why do we use a term that sounds so negative? If people can be amicable and friendly, even if they're faking it, it's not really stuck is it. Babies aren't sticky, they don't make one person stay or leave...ok, babies are sticky at times but that's a physical sticky like when Little Man Meatball paints his sisters with his Mum-Mum cookies. Those things are like baby cement. ...Oh man, losing train of thought here. Why does the phone only ring when I'm writing??

I guess what this short little rant I've got going on here is trying to say is this:

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"Let's not get stuck. Let's pretend we love each other even if we don't, let's pretend to be friends even if we aren't. It's a limited amount of time that they see us together now so let's pretend nothing changed, just for a few minutes. Let them see that we are adults who can work through anything, that can be friends no matter what situations arise, that can put the drama aside and smile at our babies.

It's really not that hard to do, not a hard task at hand. We can agree to fight and bicker and argue elsewhere but not in front of our children. They are the ones who are hurting more than you or I, they are the ones who have mini-broken hearts at the loss of what they thought were two loving parents. They still have two very devoted, caring parents even if they aren't loving one another anymore. Whose to say that a six-year-old's wish of you coming home will never come true but for now, just for now...let's put them first before anyone or anything else. They have never needed us more than when we became divided like we have. They need our undivided attention so they don't feel at fault, ashamed or take the blame for all those silly things that we could just never work out.

So, let us be friends even if we aren't, let's love one another even if we don't; just for a few minutes, for them. We will always be a family when it comes to them so, let's not be divided in front of them but stand together as we once did so they can see just how important they are to us. Hate me when you leave, love me when you're here. We`ll only have stronger, better children for it."

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Did any of that make sense...probably not. This was supposed to be a short, small filler post to keep the blog going until writing stopped being a chore but I guess it became a little more than that didn`t it. Ahhh well...what can I do (insert question mark here, my keyboard has once again decided to go wonky). I promised when I first starting writing this that it would be a completely unedited, left-brain exercise in writing and I would publish what was written so, here you go guys...an unedited look into my break-up.

Oh you gossip hungry assholes are eating this post up!!

FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT BABY!!

It's been a crazy long hard road from the Cresent to the Duke. There are a lot of things that are good here and a lot that I would love to forget. That's alright though since it is part of growing as a person, part of becoming who we are as individuals. So, let's recap the last five weeks shall we:

1. I finally became the thing I hate the most - the Psycho Ex-Girlfriend. Yup, I did it, I crossed that line and became an asshat extraordinaire once again. Phew. Lessons learned I tell ya, lessons learned. You really figure out who you can trust and who you can't during a tumultuous break-up and you become really surprised about the people you can't. It's amazing how many people say they're behind you and supporting you only to find out they're two-faced and trouble makers themselves. Ahhh well, it's all part of their process of growth too. It's just too bad that the ones who promised support called me an embarrassment and walked away from me. Huh? Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing as you guys....forget them and move on.

2. I became an insane Momma-Bear. Holy shit! I knew I was a protective mother but this is ridiculous. I have been like a cloud of custodial protection hovering over my kids these last few weeks. No one, and I seriously mean, NO ONE is ever going to expose my babies to things that they just shouldn't be seeing. Things that they are certainly not ready for. Expect a crazy, screaming banshee of a freakshow mom to put a stop to anything she thinks her babies can't handle. I have officially lost my mind in the Mommy department. I guess if I wasn`t an over-protective, over-bearing mom there would be something wrong. Right...hmmm....

I had a number three but I was just interupted by a long phone call and now the whole point of my little rant and rave session here has totally been lost. The mood to be the strong, independent, growling, empowered-by-estrogen woman is lost and I`m suddenly content to just sit here and watch a movie. Yeah, mood swings. Stress induced, hormone filled mini-rages that always come to a very anti-climatic end; usually me throwing my hands up and exclaiming that I`m not a feminist but rather a very sober hippy at heart with no desire for drama or performance.

Oh man, I`m all over the place this week. The old break-up is catching up to me I think along with the lack of sleep, new job, new hours, blah blah blah. Nope, I`m not trying to act like a victim here, I know that might be what some of you are thinking and that is far from the truth. I create my own reality, my own decisions have led to their own consequences. The fallout and reactions to my decisions are no one`s fault or responsibility but my own.

Anyway, I`m off to watch my movie and be a big hippy...hehe....

Long Day, Remembering Jerry Springer Episodes (NOT G RATED)

I was sitting down earlier today and thinking about old Jerry Springer episodes. Yeah, long day scrubbing and cramping, cleaning and bloating, folding and cranking. Yup, it's that time again. Anyway, I was sitting her folding some clothes and started thinking about hookers. Don't ask, there was a song on about "ho's" on I think. My giggle at hookers moved onto old hookers and eventually to the Million Dollar Blow Job.

There was an episode of Jerry, probably five to ten years ago where there was an older lady who was also a prostitute. She was the purveyor of the Million Dollar Blow Job. It entailed simply of this: she took her teeth out. Yup, toothless blow jobs. I wouldn't know anything about them, mostly because I have teeth, but according to her they're worth a million bucks! The problem this poor woman was having was that she left her teeth on the dashboard of one of her johns. Now, she had to tell her hubby. That's when the fighting ensued. Her john was there, they got her teeth back but not after a scuffle or two with her husband.

Ahhh, Jerry, how I miss your entertainment. Your freakshow that you call daytime television was a savior to me during my imprisonment at St. Margaret's Hall; saving me from countless horrid lectures on philosophy. Who needs Plato when you have Jerry? It has also saved me from doing housework, homework and countless other tasks. It has been a wonderful break in my day. An hour to allow my brain to go numb and delve into the depths of depravity and take a break from reality.

I love Jerry Springer.

Now, I have to decide whether or not to lose my teeth.....

...no, I paid to much for my braces.....

This is what she thinks of you....

Intense and she can't explain it. You seem to be the elusive blend; nice guy tempered with perfect hint of tough guy, just enough to make her feel safe again. You don't play on her, use her, toy with her but know how to act with her; react to her. You make her trust without realizing it. Give her hope without really offering it. You appreciate what she does and who she is, with you and for you. You're genuine, honest and explicit. You held the door, you asked permission, you have an infectious smile.


You are, in no uncertain terms, very much a gentleman. Take this blogger's word when I say that you really took this girl by surprise, opened her eyes. She thanks you for being her friend but is scared to tell you the rest. So, as a favour, I helped her and hopfully, you'll realize just how close she holds you and the impact you have. You are held in high regard.

Take this post as whatever you wish. I'm not revealing anything, don't ask.

A List of Disgusting Questions Peppered with Random Thought...

Looks like my Hallowe'en costume isn't going to make it and that really sucks. Ahhh well, that's what I get for ordering it so friggin' late I guess. I'll save it for next year or maybe, I'll save it for around the house, lol. I could wear it around the house I guess, I'd be pretty popular though...hahaha. Mental pictures of me answering the door in a black corset and skirt with knee boots and a riding crop. My oh my. I'd either have a lot of visitors or a lot of people runnng away. Whichever happened, it would be very amusing to say the least.

Ever try to pick your nose but your nails are too long and you hurt yourself? No? Me either.

Do you look at the toilet paper after you wipe? No? Why not? Don't you want to make sure you're clean ya freak?!

Do you sneak down the aisle in Wal-Mart to fart or do you fart wherever you are? I hide and blame the baby if it stinks.

Say your bum gets itchy when your walking, how do you scratch it? Honestly, answer this one because I had one hell of an itch walking to the bus the other day. All I wanted to do was drop my pants and scratch my ass on the concrete. You know how dogs drap their ass on the carpet.? Yeah, it was that bad.

Do you wonder how people who don't poop in public or at work can hold it all day? I do. My stomach would be in fits. I want to buy these people some Poopsie-Daisie or Just-A-Drop and some toilet sanitizer and tell them to have at it, their guts will thank them.

Does a guy really believe a girl when she says she doesn't toot? Come on people, that's like finding a guy who doesn't masturbate. Here's a secret: ALL WOMEN FART!

Finally, here are some of my answers to stupid questions I've been asked:

Did your tattoo hurt? No, felt like butterflies gently flying over my arm.

Did that piercing hurt (insert whatever one here)? Again, butterflies did it for me and rainbows came down from Heaven to take the pain away and the needle turned into a fucking magic wand that sent out a puff of glittery smoke and it was over.

Are they all yours (in reference to my kids)? Nope, I collect them randomly at the grocery store.

Do you work here (while sitting at the reception desk at work)? Nope. I walk into random offices and sit at their reception desks to screw with people's minds.

Is that your dog? Do you know she's going to be big? Didn't know she was mine. I found this really nice leash by a bush and wanted to take it home, turns out the dog was attached. Didn't know she was going to be big, thought she a miniature breed, guess I should get my money back. Bastards lied to me, damn puppy mills.

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I think I'm losing my mind. There are so many things that come to mind in the run of a day that I really do wonder about it's rediculous. Then, when I mention them to anyone, they look at me like I'm insane. Wonder why.

Hannah -- (sorry guys, this one is graphic)

It's catching up to me now. I didn't want it to because my sitter will be here in about twenty minutes so I can go for a job interview. I don't want to think right now. The laundry helped, the sweeping helped, Little Man Meatball entertaining me helped, Little Miss kept me on my toes but the day is going to start winding down soon and that interview isn't going to last forever. The kids will go to bed and I'll have to think about the bad news, the horrible decisions, the physical pain, the doctor telling me it was over.

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Hours later now and I was right about the day winding down. Always in the back of my mind was her, Hannah, my little girl. She's four today, as of 6:15 AM on this day in 2004, she was born at the IWK in Halifax. Big Cranky was with me at the end, Miami was with me at the beginning of labour. I was induced on the 27th in the afternoon and labour started. Normal regular contractions, normal regular labour. Sometime through the night I asked for pain medication, Big Cranky rubbed my back through the whole thing, the nurse was holding my hand while the other was putting in an IV and giving me that blessed button to push for more demerol. My water broke a few hours later and labour progressed. The never checked my dilation or effacement, they didn't have to. Hannah was too tiny at six months gestation, so tiny I didn't need to be fully dialated, just trust my own body to know when it was time to push. I never wanted to get to that point, I could have stayed in pain forever because I didn't want to let her go but it happened and I did it and there she was. Tiny, perfect and still.



We never heard her cry, it was too late for that. I wish I could have because when I heard Chloe and Everett, I wondered if they sounded like their big sister or maybe she sounded like Lily. We'll never know. I never got to see her eyes, I wanted to see them so badly but they never opened, they couldn't, she was gone. I wonder now if they were a piercing blue like her father's, would they have stayed that way or would they have faded to an ocean grey like mine and Lily's. They brought her to me wrapped in a receiving blanket and I couldn't understand, she couldn't get cold, she couldn't hurt anymore. I pulled it apart and looked at my beautiful baby girl. She looked like her father, the spitting image only softer, gentler features with amazing full lips. She fit so perfectly in my hand, like a little doll and we marvelled at just how tiny this angel was. I wanted to keep her forever, I wanted to hold her forever and I felt like if I just wished and hoped and prayed hard enough that she would take just one breath for me, just one. I begged God for a flicker of hope that she was really in a better place but I couldn't think of anywhere a child should be but in their parent's arms.



I never wanted to let her go but I did. I let the nurse take her and she was blessed, to go in peace and love. I was given a box of cards and pictures, a teddy bear, her hospital outfit and hat, the blanket they wrapped her in -- to go in grief and pain. Everything but my daughter in that box. Not a week before I was pregnant and excited, now I was hollow and devastated. I picked up her ashes the next day and made the five hour drive home with a tea-cup sized urn on my lap.


Four years later and I still remember every emotion, every thought, every twinge and ache. I still see her, I can still feel how tiny she was, picture her fitting almost perfectly in my hand. It's funny how time steals the pain away. It hurts so bad and then one day you realize you didn't cry that day and then you have more days like that, the ones you don't cry but you always think. I always wonder if there were better choices, more options, something else. I know in my heart there really wasn't anything else we could do for her but I want every single day to have her back and part of my little family with Lily, Chloe and Everett.

Please, if you read this, hug your babies and know just how lucky you are to have them. Know just how beautiful every day is with them no matter how much they make you angry. Tell them you love them because it can taken away. That is something I know all too well.


Happy Birthday Hannah, Mommy will ALWAYS love you.....

***For more information on what caused Hannah's stillbirth, please visit: http://hannahslegacy.tripod.com/ and please support IWK Genetic Research.***

Parental Embarrassment & Cabana vs.Canadian Boys

So, my first official post as an actual writer. Interesting to say the least. Miss Lily is in her room watching a movie because I guess a walk for a cup of tea to Tim's is enough Mommy time for her, lol. Little bugger is six and already starting to be embarrassed by mom! I'm going to have to play with this one...hehe. I am going to sit down and make my plans for embarrassing my children. I think, as a parent, we have an innate, devine right to make out kids roll their eyes and groan while exclaiming the longest whiniest "MOOOOooooooooommmmmmm stooooop ittttt". It's our parental privilage and their right of passage. Hey, they have to learn how to embarrass their own kids through us so it's also a learning experience. I just never thought it would start at six!

She's a great kids, I'm one hell of a lucky mom. She's a great kid. I'm also writing early today to avoid doing my dishes. I hate doing dishes, they're horrible contraptions of evil. If I had room, I'd buy a dishwasher OR I would just hire someone to do them for me. Sounds like a good plan to me. Now I just need a really high paying job and I'll be able to hire nanny's and housekeepers and cabana boys.

What does a cabana boy do exactly??

Could you even get one in Canada??

I'm sure I could find one but he'd be outifitted in a Dickies sweater and some wool socks, fancy ass long johns and Northern warmth regalia. Yeah, nevermind, that's a typical Canadian boy. I bet Canadian boys would blow a heating fan on you instead of fanning you with a palm leaf. They would bring you Labatt Blue instead of Corona; Rock Lobsters instead of Marguaritas. You know, picking between a Cabana Boy and a Canadian Boy is a little difficult, seems they both have their perks.

Alright...losing my mind now. Those dishes are calling and since I have company on the way, maybe I should get my house cleaned up.

Full-time blogger??

Apparently I'm amusing for some reason or other and have been asked to blog as much as possible, making this thing a full-time gig. HHMmmmm...let's think about this for a minute. I'm utilizing a free site that is fed only through to Facebook and my pay would literally only be the 10 cents per click on the actualy site itself. Doesn't sound like that good of a deal to me but dammit, I get to blog as much as I want. I'm sure it's either going to lead somewhere or lead me nowhere but filling up server space with random nonsense. Actually, random nonsense is the point of this blog.

Here's the deal. I need help. I need topic since I need to be "topic focused". My rants about specific things are, according to the powers that be, what attracts people to read my blog. I'm too flakey to think of any one specific thing night after night but I'm sure as hell going to try. In the meantime, send me some ideas. I can be reached at slymentra69@hotmail.com.

Chat soon people...wish me luck on the new endevour...

Men are simple.

Alright, I know. I sound like a jilted lover, rejected lovelorn girl who is bitter and angry. I'm not and actually I'm far from it. I have just come to the conclusion that men are basic and simple creatures and the only reason women find them complicated is because we complicate them.

I have found that men live simply, basically and function to complete only the most basic of human needs/tasks. A man's life consists of simply moving between four simple repetitive tasks. There are others that they do require to live, such as hygiene and urination but these are the BIG FOUR. The four things that a man lives for: eat - fuck - shit - sleep. Put those four things on repeat and the rest of it just seems to fall into place for them. Explanation is as follows:

• They work to eat and not really much else, the rest of the money for shelter and amenities is just something that happens. Seriously, have you ever seen a man with a barbeque or listen to conversations about steak? It's a very painstaking and intense conversation and usually consists of grunts, barbeque sauce painting demonstrations and timing/heating/texture university lectures.

• They fuck because they think with their crotch and get a little insane without sex. Even on a health level, a man has a need to ejaculate to prevent them from getting "backed up" or, in medical terms, "vasocongestion" (please google Blue Balls for further information).

• Let's face it, men enjoy a good shit and tend to pride themselves on size, smell and composition (relate the size comparison back to the fuck part, you can put two and two together) plus, they tend to be picky about their choice of lavatory entertainment (sometimes porn, go back to fuck).

• Sleep. Pristine and beautiful sleep. The thing that recharges them for eating, fucking and shitting. Sleep is THE most important element and men tend to be able to sleep almost anywhere, in almost any position whilst simaltaneously snoring and drooling. This is actually the one time a man is capable of multi-tasking.

So, back to my original point of the fact that women complicate men. You see, when a man says something like: "She needs a man" in a casual conversation with a female friend about a girl they both know, he usually means exactly what he says. In actual male-to-female translation, he is simply saying: "she would probably benefit from a companion or company". However, a woman would question the validity of the statement with the following questions: why would he say that? Does he think she's lonely? Does he see her as incapable of being single and fulfilled? Does he mean that he wants to be her man or does he mean that she should look elsewhere for a man and not in his direction? What does he mean by that?

See my point. Basically, that statement is as simple as "I have to shit" in that there is nothing else to read into it and the man would merely need to fulfill of his basic, carnal needs to deficate. If he says, "She needs a man" he is simply saying that she needs a male companion and nothing else. There would be no undertones to the statement, nothing broad and nothing complicated. This goes for pretty much any statement a man would make.

We women put far too much of our complicated brain function into trying to understand something that is very easy to comprehend. I think I had an AH-HA moment in discovering that men are incapable of any complicated thought in that they are scientifically proven to be able to process thought through linear thinking only and base their lives around the Big Four. I don't want anyone to get me wrong here, I love men...a lot (no, I'm not a slut either). I think they are lucky that they don't over-analyze everything the way us women tend to to do. They are able to say what they mean and mean it with no other hidden thought or agenda. I'm not saying they can't play headgames or be deceitful because they certainly can be and when you look into any reason why they did that, it will usually relate back to obtaining one of the Big Four.

I think we should admire their thought process and uncomplicate our own lives by turning down the drama dial in our brain and take a spoken word for what it is. If I say I have to shit, I have to shit and if I say he needs a good woman, I mean he needs a companion or some company and nothing more....nothing less. Make sense?

Now...I'm off to use the bathroom, grab some food, make a phone call and go to sleep.

For all you gossip-hungry asshats -- This should satisfy your need...

I have been asked a few times now what exactly, is it that I want. That's one hell of a vague question. I want a pony, an ice cream machine, an original vinyl copy of The Wall and many other things. Then I realize that people mean what do I want from life, either at this moment or in the future. Blah, I hate that question. Things are so left up to chance and fate with a few reams of shithouse luck thrown in that I tell them that whatever way the wind decides to blow, that's where I'll end up and if it's not what I want, I'll just stand in the breeze again.

I attribute people's curiousity with my life to this huge change I just made. Yes, I just moved back to my hometown after five years of living away. Yes, I just ended a six year relationship with the father of two of my three children and no, I don't want to tell you why. Yes, I'm planning on staying a fully employed single mother of three and no, I don't want to get into why about that one either. Holy nosy people I have around me. I'm pretty open and give me about ten minutes, I'll probably start spilling out some bullshit for you to satisfy your gossip-hungry asses. Happy now?

Anyway, here are some answers to some of the questions I have been asked of late and, unable to answer, only responded with a huff and an eyeroll:

No, I don't really like my job. I'm basically working to gain experience until I find something else because the travel sucks and so does the pay. No, I don't really like my boss, I'm just really damn good at pretending. She's alright I guess, she's a good person on some levels but I wish someone would teach her how to either accept responsibilty or place blame tactfully. There, that's answered.

No, I certainly do not want a boyfriend/husband. Forget it. A relationship is the last damn thing on my mind right now. Sure, company is fantastic but something serious? C'mon people, I have three kids that need their mother more than ever right now, I'm certainly not taking myself away from them to build a relationship with someone who is most likely going to break my heart anyway. Besides, would it really be fair for me to ask a man with no children of his own to give up their hopes of having kids to be with me? Is it really fair that I'm hesitant to see a man with kids of his own because I worry about our families being able to get along? Is it fair to ask a man who doesn't want any children to accept mine?

Yes, being a single mother sucks. Why do you even ask if I enjoy it? Sure, I enjoy paying all the bills myself, tackling naps and bedtimes and babysitter drama all alone. I enjoy being the only one helping with homework and hair bows and screaming tantrums. I love it that I'm the only one who gets to see nice notes from the teachers at school, pictures left for me on the fridge, the kisses, the hugs, the walking and talking and all the firsts. It's great having no one to share that with...sure...fuck. I'm cranky and sarcastic.

And finally, yes. The answer to whether or not I'm happy is a big, yellow, high-lighted, outlined, 72 font YES. I'm sure there will come a time where I will change jobs or get a promotion and the job thing will look up. I'm sure I'm not going to be single forever, although it's going to take one hell of a man to make me change my mind and I really do love being a mom, single or otherwise.

I guess what I'm saying is this: Leave me alone, I'm happy and content and just as goofy as ever. I know this is one post that's a little more on the serious side and trust me, I'm hating that it's like this since I prefer to blog about things that are completely mundane and rediculous but I just couldn't help it tonight. I really needed to get that off my chest. So, there you go Asshats, all the gossip fodder you need for awhile....chew on that but remember that I hope you choke.

Here I go again on my own....

Where to start? Nowhere really. It has been one hell of an insane week. There have been so many crazy things and crazy people that I don't know exactly how I can begin. The characters in this new chapter of my story are colourful and wonderful and beautiful. Even the insane ones are making things so interesting, so amusing, that I can't help but like them on some entertaining, foolish level.

I had the movers come early on Saturday morning. I was just as I previously wrote, frazzled and looking at those poor men with my "please help me" look. The only difference was that the three hurricanes were quite calm and I was sitting on the couch, not under the table. I wanted to be under the table, I wanted the day to be all said and done but it wasn't. It took about three hours for everything to get here, including me and my brood. I was never so thankful for anything to be over in all my life. Well, labour would be one exception, I was always thankful that was over.

No room at the inn. Nothing fits, nothing works the way I want it to. I moved a three bedroom, three level duplex into a small two bedroom apartment. You know, even though I've had to give my couch away, my washer and dryer are in my kitchen and you really have to suck it in to move around, I couldn't be happier. My kids are happy because they can out to play. My dog is happy because she can roam out of her crate around the apartment. My cats, well, they're cats and that's enough of an explanation.

I'm happy because it seems like there is a huge weight off of my shoulders. Mind you, there are new weights there now but they aren't the same as before, they are minor, trivial. I wish so bad I could just write every worry that's gone, write about all the heartbreak that looks like it has moved itself into the past tense and all the hurt that seems to be fading, but I can't. One, it's a little too personal to me and others involved and two, the past is better left as the past. Sure, there will always be ties but sometimes it's better to walk away, to move on, to live again without worry and disappointment and lonliness than to sit in it hoping it will simply remedy itself. It never will.

I have to apologize for the people that this move hurt. I know there are some that are upset by my choices but I had stopped living for myself and placed myself into someone else's shawdow, losing who I was and forgetting what it was like to be Allie. I became something I wasn't and that wasn't good for me or for them. So, here I am...back and bad and bitchy as ever before.

Wheeeee......

Thanks Tara, you mean the world to me girlie. I couldn't be more indebted to you for finding this place for me and my little family. Anything you need, even the body dump, let me know. Living in the Pier has taught me well, hahaha. Cheers to you, lovey, for being a rock, for being a sistaaa, for being the best. Ahhh...MUSH!!

For The Great White Way upstairs...thanks for making the move interesting with your Tweedle-Dee attitude, inability to take responsibility for yourself or your children, your bunt and waddle. Oh my, what the fuck is up with you? You make me shake my head and wonder about the human race. I only ask one thing: please move that damn white chair so I don't have to kick it again. And please, don't stop being an asshat, you make life that much more interesting for us silly, bored single mothers who watch you stumble through life thinking criminals and whores are the salt of the earth...good job, great example.

Since I making my great acceptance speech here, I can't forget the people who win over angry two-year-olds, push freezers, break down boxes, hang mailboxes, encourage walking, jack cable, watch cartoons, do dishes, sweep floors, babysit, talk, teach and make me crazy. It's good to know there is kindness in strangers and I know unequivocally, 100% and without doubt that the kindness isn't a front but something that makes up who you really are. Look at that, only a week and these people got me gushing like an idiot.

Gushing or not I'm still going to be guarded. I know that. I know that my trust is going to be hard to win now no matter who it is that I'm getting to know -- friend or foe. I know that I'm burned, I'm broken and I'm healing. I'm just as vulnerable as I am strong. Just as hardcore as I am a softie. Oh crap. I'm fucked in the head and can't tell which end is up. Tits up and looking at the sky maybe, saying a little prayer and giggling at my nerves and freedom. I'm scared shitless and I'm so damn excited about it.

Hooray for new adventures!!

I packed my sanity in a cardboard box.

I give up. No, seriously, I do. I damn well packed my sanity in a box and I'm pretty sure it's wrapped in old newspapers because my mental health is a very fragile thing. I just hope I wrote that on the box. I packed my tea on the bottom of my kitchen box but I guess it might be karma for my mistreatment of those cardboard bastards. I think I spend way too much time alone. I did find some Irish Breakfast floating around in my drawers and it's not too bad although I'm not exactly sure how old it is or where it came from. Hey man, don't judge, I need a fix.

I have come to the conclusion that I am only stressing myself out and wearing myself down by thinking I can ever be organized. I never really have been, more or less gave the illusion of it but never was. So, I don't know why I'm freaking out trying to organize myself now for this move and have decided to throw caution to the wind and pack the rest of my shit in garbage bags...the Cape Breton Way. I can sort it out when I get there, no big deal. The only thing I think about is the laugh the mover's are going to get when they walk in to see a stressed out, frizzy haired, pajama wearing girl surrounded by three small hurricanes and looking at them with that "please help me" face. I'm just handing them the key and saying "good luck, if you have it done in under four hours I'll give a tip or buy you some weed"...whatever...

As long as I get there I guess. I'm taking my headache and running away. I'm going to turn my lights off for now and crash on my couch and get a decent sleep so I'm not freaking out tomorrow. Think I might call in sick so I can have two whole days to finish up. The are a lot of things to go into garbage bags and I'm not looking forward to the shoving. The boxes should be happy that I'm finally finished with them though but I don't think they realize what's coming next: the unpacking, the breaking down the...gasp... RECYCLING!!

WWaaaammmbulance.....

It's been awhile. Oh well, shit happens, I got busy and now I'm completely shirking my responsibilities to the plethora of boxes that are cluttering my house, open and begging to be filled. How the hell did I just make a cardboard box sound dirty? It's a talent I guess. Maybe my brain is still stuck on the Story of O. Box bondage...I'm Mistress Adhesive, I control them with tape....punish them by pulling it off....

Alright, getting a little insane here.

I have no idea what I'm doing tonight. I know I need to pack but I just can't bring myself to do it. I just wish everything would magically appear in the new apartment. Speaking of new apartment....do I have any volunteers to help me move furniture around?? Actually, I need help putting beds together because, well, I suck. I am the farthest thing from being handy as they come. Don't get me wrong, I can take care of myself, I can fix stuff but...and a big but (much like the one that follows behind me)...there is no guarantee that it'll stay together or remain upright. Oh my, do what I can I guess.

I just did some laundry...eeeevil laundry. I am very sick of washing and folding and putting in a box; washing and folding and putting in a box; repeat. Then there's the dishes...washing and drying and putting in a box. I don't remember any of my other moves being so monotonous and slow. I feel like I'm never going to get it finished. Miss Cat from work came to help me yesterday and we did get a good bit of it done but still, this is insane!! There are still boxes in my closet and boxes in the basement that have to be seen to. I'm seriously considering just sitting under my table when the movers get here on Saturday and telling them just to do what they can.

Why didn't I hire packers when I hired the movers??

The age old question I guess...next time I move, which hopefully won't be for a very long, long time, I have to remember to hire packers. Fuck. Dishes, I have to finish those tonight too and I really don't want to...WAAAAA....I think I'd like some cheese with my whine...somebody call the waaaamubulance....

Oh, and as per the previous blog post, I have discovered the answer to the Great Mystery. I have been told, in no uncertain terms, that the only reason a man will hold the wall in front of him to pee is....

LAZINESS.

Somehow, this answer doesn't surprise me and I am rather befuddled that I could not draw such an obvious conclusion myself. I guess that just proves that men are simple and women like to complicate things....