My 21st is coming up and it's a costume party. It got me thinking of the time I went to a costume party that my brother was hosting. The theme was farm animals and space mutants. I went as a cow. I made this 70s minidress in cowprint material, threw on some clogs, did my hair up kind of like a mane and wore a viking hat for horns.
I was going with two mates of mine. He went as a comet and she went as Dorothy the Dinosaur. The thing was that we were finishing up the Dorothy costume at her parents place, which was over the other side of Melbourne from where the party was.
So, quite fashionably late we were going through Flinders St station (the hub of Melbourne). We had quite a generous stop over at Flinders so we went out to watch some kind of Emo rumble that was happening outside which consisted mainly of two rival emo gangs ***** slapping each other and crying. It was fairly funny, but then a clearly drunk gentleman approached me.
"Excuse me, are you a viking?" I told him I was, in fact a cow, and the viking hat was my horns. "Oh, well my name's Joe, and I'm a real viking."
Now that's funny as is, but the really great thing about it was that Joe had a ridiculously thick Scottish accent. Joe the Scoittish viking talked to us for some time before wandering off to the pub for another drink before his train.
So that's the story of Joe, who we still talk about to this day.
Todays laugh comes from a site in very, very bad taste. These are from a quote database where people can submit the funny conversations they've had or seen in chatrooms. I won't link it to you because I don't want to be the one to lead anyone to a place that might shock and offend them
glowsun> I heard about this guy who broke into a lion's den at the zoo
glowsun> and got mauled
glowsun> and people were talking about how there should have been better defenses put up to prevent people getting into the cage
glowsun> a friend of mine suggested setting up some kind of deterrent
glowsun> for example, putting some sort of fierce animal in the cage, which would attack anybody who climbed in
Dogan> GUYS, STORY TIME
Dogan> SO my teacher's friend's friend or something
Dogan> She was dogsitting one day
Dogan> Shows up the first time, finds the dog dead on the floor, right?
Nightryde> how embarrassing
Dogan> SO she's gotta pack the dog corpse up and take it to the vet so they can dispose of it or whatever
Dogan> She can't find anything to fit it in, so she stuffs it in a freaking SUITCASE
Dogan> She didn't have a car so she has to take the train through Chicago
Zeelot> oh mannnn
Dogan> This guy helps her carry the case on and is like
Dogan> "this is pretty heavy, what's in it?"
Dogan> lady replies "just some computer things"
Dogan> the guy SOCKS HER IN THE FACE AND RUNS OFF WITH THE CASE
DeadMansHand> haha, last night, me and pete went out to celebrate his engagement and got hugely drunk
DeadMansHand> we got this great idea to bury eachother in the sand close to the water and see who would chicken out first
DeadMansHand> took about a half hour, but the water got up to my face so i freaked and got out
DeadMansHand> i looked around for pete and he must've chickened out before me and stumbled home or something heh
DeadMansHand> What'd he say when he woke up this morning?
Thirteen-> uhh.. he hasn't come home yet.. i thought he was staying with you?
DeadMansHand> holy f*ck.
DeadMansHand> i f*cking hope im wrong about what im thinking right now
DeadMansHand> im f*cking going back to the beach to make sure
DeadMansHand> if he gets home, call me, i don't want to be worrying about this
Thirteen-> will do. you better hope he's not still buried, you'll be in deep sh*t.
Tyran> wtf? pete came home last night you f*ck. Ken's going to be worrying about this sh*t all day
Thirteen-> haha yea, but it will be fun while it lasts
join: (PeteRepeat) (bob@3F8C4655.11D1C8C.18637D35.IP)
PeteRepeat> f*cking ken
PeteRepeat> ken... that f*cker buried me in the sand last night, i ran off about 5 minutes to it, left him there to be an idiot
quiqsilver> pete, ken didn't come back last night, i thought he was with you.
PeteRepeat> oh f*ck.
PeteRepeat> if ken shows up, make sure he doesn't know that im at the beach digging for his body. i don't want him to think i care or anything.
Thirteen-> rofl. Those 2 are going to get a huge surprise when they meet at the beach.
Tyran> i can't beleive how perfect their timing was
I have been so slack on my journal. It's been a fairly depressing weekend but I'm okay now.
We've picked up a new housemate. Gareth had to move out so he's on our couch for a while. It's a pretty tiny place for three people, but it's nice to have people around. Linda's already missing him, and it's bloody wonderful to hear him talk about her with affection in his voice.
I'm still waiting to hear back on my interview, hopefully I will this week!
1. A kindergarten pupil told his teacher he’d found a cat, but it was dead. “How do you know that the cat was dead?” she asked her pupil. “Because I pissed in its ear and it didn’t move,” answered the child innocently. “You did WHAT?!” the teacher exclaimed in surprise. “You know,”explained the boy, “I leaned over and went ‘Pssst!’ and it didn’t move.”
2. A small boy is sent to bed by his father. Five minutes later….. “Da-ad….” “What?” “I’m thirsty. Can you bring drink of water?” “No, You had your chance. Lights out.” Five minutes later: “Da-aaaad…..” “WHAT?” “I’m THIRSTY. Can I have a drink of water??” I told you NO! If you ask again, I’ll have to spank you!!” Five minutes later…… “Daaaa-aaaad…..” “WHAT!” “When you come in to spank me, can you bring a drink of water?”
3. An exasperated mother, whose son was always getting into mischief, finally asked him “How do you expect to get into Heaven?” The boy thought it over and said, “Well, I’ll run in and out and in and out and keep slamming the door until St. Peter says, ‘For Heaven’s sake, Dylan, come in or stay out!’”
4. One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm a mother was tucking her son into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked with a tremor in his voice, “Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight?” The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug. “I can’t dear,” she said. “I have to sleep in Daddy’s room.” A long silence was broken at last by his shaky little voice: “The big sissy.”
5. It was that time, during the Sunday morning service, for the children’s sermon. All the children were invited to come forward. One little girl was wearing a particularly pretty dress and, as she sat down, the pastor leaned over and said, “That is a very pretty dress. Is it your Easter Dress?” The little girl replied, directly into the pastor’s clip-on microphone, “Yes, and my Mom says it’s a ***** to iron.”
6. When I was six months pregnant with my third child, my three year old came into the room when I was just getting ready to get into the shower. She said, “Mommy, you are getting fat!” I replied, “Yes, honey, remember Mommy has a baby growing in her tummy.” “I know,” she replied, but what’s growing in your butt?”
7. A little boy was doing his math homework. He said to himself, “Two plus five, that son of a ***** is seven. Three plus six, that son of a ***** is nine….” His mother heard what he was saying and gasped, “What are you doing?” The little boy answered, “I’m doing my math homework, Mom.” “And this is how your teacher taught you to do it?” the mother asked. “Yes,” he answered. Infuriated, the mother asked the teacher the next day, “What are you teaching my son in math?” The teacher replied, “Right now, we are learning addition.” The mother asked, “And are you teaching them to say two plus two, that son of a ***** is four?” After the teacher stopped laughing, she answered, “What I taught them was, two plus two, THE SUM OF WHICH, is four.”
8. One day the first grade teacher was reading the story of Chicken Little to her class. She came to the part of the story where Chicken Little tried to warn the farmer. She read, “…. and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, “The sky is falling, the sky is falling!” The teacher paused then asked the class, “And what do you think that farmer said?” One little girl raised her hand and said, “I think he said: ‘Holy ****! A talking chicken!’” The teacher was unable to teach for the next 10 minutes.
9. A certain little girl, when asked her name, would reply, “I’m Mr. Sugarbrown’s daughter.” Her mother told her this was wrong, she must say, “I’m Jane Sugarbrown.” The Vicar spoke to her in Sunday School, and said, “Aren’t you Mr. Sugarbrown’s daughter?” She replied, “I thought I was, but mother says I’m not.”
10. A little girl asked her mother, “Can I go outside and play with the boys?” Her mother replied, “No, you can’t play with the boys, they’re too rough.” The little girl thought about it for a few moments and asked, “If I can find a smooth one, can I play with him?”
I've got to say, my good humour has faded. Quite a lot. So I had my blood test yesterday, but can't get in to get my results until Friday, so not only do I have to wait, but I also lose half a day's pay.
For the first time since I got that stupid BFP I feel like the correct solution to my predicament is just curling up in a ball and crying until I can't cry anymore. That'd make me feel better. But I can't. Cause I'm married. Stupidly enough the idea of getting the privacy to just have a good cry is ridiculous. It's not like Kevin's not being supportive, he's been wonderful. It's just that if I cry he's going to think I'm absolutely freaking out and not coping.
Well okay, the BFP has been proven false. But that's okay. I've only been trying for two months, it wasn't the idea of a BFN that was upsetting me, just the uncertainty. It's all okay now. I'm gunna get smashed on my 21st as all people should, and that'll be fun.
I've been thinking about my morality lately. I don't realise how strongly I feel about some things. I'm intolerant of intolerance. I'm intolerant of insensitivity and selfishness. I especially can't stand the mockery of things important to me. The odd thing is that I can't elaborate anymore than anyone reading this could. I've hada few things in the past week hit sore spots for me and instantly I was furious, even violent. But if you'd asked me beforehand if I'd react like that I would have said no. I think this requires more contemplation.
And if anyone's wondering, the violence was in response to Gareth being rude to my mum. It's not on. He cleaned up the kitchen in penance.
My boss is driving me loopy, he's lost faith in me completely somewhere along the way. I come into work to find all my work done like I don't even work here. I don't know why. I know I copped some flac for that guy telling on me, but really I resolved that quite well. Oh well, I only work here for another month.
And now, for your enjoyment:
It's been a while since I've posted. I've got something to talk about today, which isn't something I usually talk about. It's a subject that I feel very strongly about, but it often pales in comparison to other things so I rarely express my feeling about it.
As far as dads go, he's a pretty good one. He always provided for us, is very smart and has given us a lot of wisdom over the years, he never hit or touched us. He's a pretty good dad.
But in reality my father has some shortcomings that I feel have affected me.
For one thing, he doesn't believe in sickness. It was bad for us growing up. He would insist that we were faking any kind of illness. Every one of us now has problems with it, unable to take sick days or back out of appointments without panic attacks and serious feelings of guilt.
And that's bad, but not half as bad for us as it was for my mum. Some of you may know she's in very poor health. When I was 7 she was diagnosed with a condition called focal glomerular sclerosis. Effectively the arteries in her kidneys are turning to stone. She was at 40% kidney function when she was diagnosed, beyond the point of treatment and recovery. I don't know how long she put of going to the doctor and taking the tests due to my father's anger, and I don't think I want to know.
I do know that she had to hide her medications, never take them in front of dad, and keep it a secret when she had a test or treatment.
He was also something of a workaholic. He always held power and money so highly. It confused me back then and it still confuses me. All I know is that when I was 4 I forgot what he looked like because he worked nightshift so long. I understand the motivation of giving your family a good life, I'm working right now to do that. But dad's work always had a far more selfish feel to it.
But then I don't know if he was really planning to eventually take all his money and assets and leave us. I know that he had his bag packed and ready to go the day mum was diagnosed. Maybe he just freaked out momentarily, but it does fit with his style. My mum was his third wife. His first wife he left for his second wife. His second wife died. He left my mum for his new girlfriend. I know he wasn't faithful to mum. She knows it too.
She tells me that she had to talk him out of leaving us several times. He told her once that he was in love with another woman. She told him that she understood his proclivities, and was alright with them but he was to never tell her of an affair. I don't know if either of them know it, but I remember the discussion. I was only two or three, I don't think they knew that I understood what was going on. My sister had just got new couches for her house and had professed her love for them to me earlier in the day, so when dad said he was in love again I thought he was talking about something other than a woman. It was mum's tone that stuck with me. That calm and cautious tone of people who are in shock and unsure of her things are going to progress. She wasn't freaking out, and I thought because she was calm that I had misunderstood and dad wasn't really in love with someone else.
I like to think that in my dad's heart he wishes that his second wife was still alive and well. That he left his first wife because he had found his true soulmate, and that it wasn't some pattern of behaviour that meant his family wasn't where he really wanted to be.
The hardest part in all this is that my dad's dream of escaping the family seems to have come true with his new girlfriend. He sees me for coffee once a week. When I was homeless he wouldn't let me stay with him. When I'm poor he tells me to ask mum for money. I'm not allowed to ask to visit, I have to wait for an invitation. And I'm doing very well compared to my brothers and sisters.
My dad was my idol for so long, I'm never sure what I'll do if I ever own up to the reality that he would have been happier never seeing me again.
Wow, a big month. I've been viciously neglecting my journal.
All kinds of things have happened.
It's now 6 days until we move to Perth. That's big step. We're leaving almost all our stuff behind. I'm already mentally packing my suitcase, trying to decide between clothes, pictures, books, memorabilia, and whatever else I have in my room.
I'm worried about the cats, that's my main concern right now. It seems convenient to have them left behind and shipped over when possible, but they're pampered little munchkins and I don't know how well they'll handle being without me for so much time. I'm sure it'll all work out.
My sister is pregnant! After 18 years of TTC it's finally happened. So that's pretty big. She's going to make a wonderful mum, and look so beautiful with a big round belly. It's a little soul-crushing that an infertile woman who wasn't trying managed to get pregnant before me, but that's just TTC insanity talking. I couldn't be happier for her. Even if it takes me a while, at least I'll have all the fun of painting nurseries and picking out baby clothes.
Going to see everyone in Melbourne on the weekend. New baby Milan from my MOH, and three month old Inka my little nephew. He must be so big by now. I bought Milan's big sister a present, cause I'm sure as a pampered only child she must be having some serious system shock from getting her attention cut in half. She's a little angel though, I'm sure she's handling it.
It's my last day at work today! I'm pretty psyched. This job has been very kind to me but I don't really want an ultra-cushy government job, I want to be out in the field, doing things and learning new skills. At the three year mark of my experience it's too critical a time in my career to be sitting around doing nothing. Everyone's so jealous of me for having a job where all I have to do is show up. Trust me: it's not all it's cracked up to be. If I was terminally lazy I'd probably love it, but an active mind and a passion for what I do leaves me depressed and listless with inactivity 9 hours a day.
I'm hoping to get a job very quickly. It's an exciting time, being young and healthy and moving to a new place. I want something where I can get into programming. I wanna be creating things, helping people get through their day easier. It's romantic of me, I know, but I really like what I do.
Oh, and I spent a few hours in the emergency room night before last. Nurse On Call got me panicked again. For those of you who don't know, Nurse on Call is a service to stop people flooding the doctor's office. You call up, you talk to a registered nurse and tell her what's happening, she tells you what it might be and what you should do. Unfortunately like most things in the medical system, if they recommend a course of action too moderate and you get really sick, they get sued, so they almost always tell you to go to the emergency room.
I rang up complaining of swelling in my back, which Kevin noticed. They told me if there was any chance I had a urinary tract infection (which I get all the time) it could have gone to my kidneys and I needed to be checked out immediately. I spent two hours in the waiting room, doctor felt the lump on my back and said "oh that's a fat tumour, nothing to be worried about". Took 30 seconds. I think the poor doctor was relieved to get someone who was neither being a hypochondriac nor taking seven hours to fix. He looked run off his feet.
Fat tumours aren't dangerous in the slightest, but boy it's hard to stop touching it and going "omg gross lumpy thing in my back".
So anyway, that's pretty much my situation atm. Tonight is a bit of an end of work celebration. So that'll be nice.
Actually, you know, I'm gunna go off on a little rant.
You know what's really pissing me off right now? Parents. Especially new parents. Whenever I mention that I'm trying to get pregnant, they all feel the need to give me absolutely pointless advice, as though they think I'm taking it as seriously as getting a pet mouse. "You know, babies cry so much in the first few months, you'll never get any sleep." Really? I never would have imagined. "Morning sickness is just the most awful thing." Oh, cause I thought morning sickness was when you woke up in the morning feeling awesome.
It's not even the pointless advice, it's the tone they give it in. And they look they give it with. It's the non-verbal, "You're going to have to change everything about yourself and your lifestyle if you want to be a mother." Even so far as to suggest that it won't happen. It's also a fact that all parents are perfect when confronted with someone who doesn't have children. Their child is ahead of the curve for the age group, has only standard health and behavioural problems, and you should be so lucky as to have one as good as theirs. It's smugitis, and you acquire it during pregnancy.
See, now, my mother, she gave me useful advice, in a pleasant tone that suggested she was looking forward to another grandchild and the expansion of the family, and wanted to help out. "My breasts were very sore when I was breastfeeding, but if you put a cabbage leaf in your bra it helps soothe the pain." See? Something I might not have known. Something useful. That's some good advice for an aspiring mother.
But the thing that really gets me is: what is it about me that suggests poor motherly qualities? Is it a general thing? Do all first time mothers get this? Is it the generally accepted notion of all parents that someone without children should not have children, or every first time parent is poorly prepared and going to blunder through it like and elephant in a china shop?
Perhaps it's more specific. I'm not the nicest of people on the main. I swear, I yell, I expect my friends to harden the **** up if they really want my opinion. But have I ever given off any signs that I would treat a child, my child, in this manner? Maybe they just don't think I can kick the cigarettes and booze.
Or maybe it's that I work as the main income earner for my household. Maybe it's that I intend to continue this role in the family. SAHMs can be viciously condescending to women who work without the absolute necessity of doing so. I don't think it would make me a bad mum. My mum worked, part time albeit but one of them had to be at home sometimes when there were seven kids running around the place. She was a good professional woman and a great mum. Is the fact that these women can't or won't or don't want to really an indication of the perfect figure of motherhood? I don't have a problem with either parent staying at home with the baby, or both, or neither. Maybe that's my problem, maybe I'm not judgemental enough for motherhood.
But for serious, I don't mean to offend any parents on here, I don't, I'm only talking about people I know IRL, this board is nothing but supportive. But for all the mothers out there, for all the fathers, if you know someone IRL that's trying for their first, before you open your mouth, just pause and think: "Is what I'm about to say of any use to the listener."
As a woman who is TTC for the first time, I beseech you, understand that we don't take it lightly. I'm not stressing out of my brain because I know I'll have plenty of time for that between being hunched over the toilet and dealing with an outbreak of chickenpox or headlice. I've researched this, I know what to expect, and I'm not an idiot, so I know I can reasonably expect everything I expect to go right out the window. I also know that however trying I think this is going to be, it's going to be worse. So if you really want to tell me about motherhood, tell me something that's going to make it easier.