I Have Never...

It's often quite disconcerting to realise that I've reached the mature age of 45 without doing a great deal things you might have expected a 45 year old woman to do. 

The list is long and comprehensive. I have never:

Had a career.

Been on a plane by myself (without my parents or Mick). 

Gotten a tattoo.

Taken illegal drugs.

Or even smoked a cigarette.

Stood naked in the rain.

Skinny-dipped.

Been thoroughly grown up and competent.

Had an affair (Mickey Blue Eyes will be not at all surprised shocked and relieved here). 

Broken someone's heart. 

Been a total bitch. 

Seen snow.

Been surfing.

Learnt to swim (shut up). 

Liked sport. This makes me somewhat of a freakish Australian. 
Bungee jumped.
Parachuted.
Ridden a motor-cycle.
Played an instrument.
Been able to raise my voice much above a whisper.
I've never been to me, just like Charlene, (and I've never exactly understood what that song meant). 
Liked rides or amusement parks. 
Worn a bikini. 

The thing is, though, for the most part I have never really wanted to do these things. I've never had a sort of bucket list of adrenaline packed adventures that I've wanted to tick off in my life-time. 

I've pondered over why I'm such a drifter/daydreamer with a lack of ambition or wanderlust and the only possible explanation I can come up with is that if you're like me: shy, quiet, introverted, Aspie and anxious then you spend a lot of time just wishing to be 'normal' in inverted commas (because who decides what normal is) and mediocre. This probably doesn't make one little bit of sense to anyone but me, but when the simplest of things like talking or making eye-contact are a huge challenge, you pretty much take yourself out of the running for things like high-powered careers or sole travelling. 

Anyway, as far as I'm concerned people who like amusement park rides or bungee-jumping are the crazy ones. Good luck with that. I'm a two feet firmly on the ground kind of girl. 

I've never understood the attraction to smoking. I find the smell alone to be repulsive and skin-crawling. Again - this must be an ASD sensory thing. Therefore, I've never had any curiosity to try it, not even once. I can't really tolerate alcohol well. Any more than two drinks maximum and my head will be spinning. And I really detest that out of control, queasy, hungover feeling, so I've never been tempted to try any drugs. Not that I've ever been offered any. It's weirdly ironic to think I've grown up in good old Mt. Druitt and am utterly clueless about drugs. Food is my drug. 

As Dolly Parton said: I'll take a sandwich and a shake over a jug and a joint any day. You'll have to imagine the Dolly twang. 


When it comes to swimming and any other water related activities, I guess I have a water phobia. I dislike putting my head under water. Anyway, my 77 year old father still doesn't know how to swim, so I'm prepared to carry on that tradition. And I'll never need that bikini. I'm naturally fair-skinned, so it doesn't make sense to wear one, anyway. Instead I need 20 litres of 50 plus sunscreen and head to toe clothing and I'll still get burnt.  HMPH. 

As far as I know I've never broken anyone's heart. In reality, there could be dozens of men (and women who wish I'd turn) weeping and devastated that I'm not available. Yeah, RIGHT. Snorts. 

And yes, I'm too much of a goody goody Pollyanna type to be a bitch. It would be handy to be able to think of cutting remarks in reply to certain people. Sometimes I manage it, but only at 4am after the event. Sigh. 

Image credit: https://www.facebook.com/purpleclvr/?fref=ts
I AM sick of bullshit! Why can't I be a bitch??!!

Speaking of 'I have never...' I have never quite known how to bring my rambling posts to a seamless conclusion, so why start now? 

The end. 

Yes, that was abrupt. 

Awkward. 

How would you finish the phrase 'I have never...'?

Linking up for I Must Confess, Open Slather and 
Mummy Mondays. 

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Monday Morning Moaning

I must confess that I have NO IDEA what little mini confessions I  can confess to. I'm desperately trying to think of something and coming up as empty and blank as...well, my mind. So this could be interesting.

Or, you know, as boring as batshit. But bear with me. You know you want to. Okay, you don't really want to.  Just think of me, if you will, as that crashing, heaving bore you sometimes end up sitting next to on a plane or at any social occasion. You know the kind. The ones that want to regale you with every intricate detail of their tedious existence. Meanwhile, you sit there apparently spellbound but really suppressing the urge to scream. But you're  too nice and polite so you  smile and nod instead. Or is that just me? 

Alternatively, I guess you could just click away right now. I can't really stop you.  Hmph.  

You're still here?  Oh. I guess that means I do have to come up with  something. Hmmm, let's see....

I've got nothing.

In which case, I might as well just steal every one else's ideas be inspired by others and list the things I'm completely over. Every other bugger blogger seems to have given this a spin and I like to be cutting edge and original.  Shut up. 

The things I am COMPLETELY over, in  no particular order, are:

SOCCER

More specifically, getting up on a Saturday morning and schlepping out to the boys games. This involves a complicated game of tag as there are three of them, two of us and only one car.  Therefore, I confess I am somewhat elated that the season has finally come to an end. HALLELUJAH! 

Moreover, I still remain firmly convinced that my boys should really have taken up cross-dressing instead of soccer as an extra-curricular activity. I'm sure getting on some fishnets and stilettos would be so much easier than those bloody soccer socks, boots and shin pads. Nightmare. 

HOME  IMPROVEMENT SHOWS

In particular the shows where they  de-clutter and make-over ordinary suburban homes. 

I'm always bemused by the after shots of such make-overs. The house is transformed from sheer chaos to sleek and stylish, complete with calming scented candles flickering away for added ambiance. 

Seriously?  Candles? With children?  If I lit any candles around here the house would be up in flames quicker than you could say 'insurance claim'.  Then again, I  HAVE paid the insurance. Ahem...

I'd love to challenge them to do our home. I'm sure if that Peter Walsh character took one look at our humble abode, his solution would be pretty clear cut. He would simply take out a hand grenade, detonate it, hand to me and RUN. 

FIGHTS OVER PLAYSTATION/COMPUTER

I have completely failed as a parent. Tragically, my boys do not  possess their own exclusive lap-top/PS4/Ipad/Ipod and any other device I probably haven't  heard of. I'm so broke mean. How can I deprive them of such luxuries necessities?  This means they have to do the unthinkable: SHARE.  Fights and indignation ensue. 

But why don't you just set them time limits I hear you ask?  You're the boss, after all. 

GENIUS. Why didn't I think of that? Oh wait. I did. 

It goes like this:

They are given a time and happily agree with rapturous thank yous. As soon as their time is up they immediately announce to their patiently waiting brother: "It's your turn, Bro!" 

They blissfully hi-five each other while beaming and the next person takes their turn. All is sweetness and light. 

YEAH. RIGHT. In my dreams. 

In reality there are furious shriekings of:

"That's not fairrrrrrrrr!!"

"Why does HE always get to go first??!!" 

"Muuum, he's  TEASING meeeee!!"  (If one smirks at the other as they reluctantly trade places). 

This can escalate to the point where they effectively try to kill one another while Micky Blue Eyes and I issue time outs and groundings.

Ahhhhh, the serenity. I mean, insanity.....

.

LASER TAG  PARTIES (OR ANY  PARTIES,  REALLY...)

I have been to two of these recently. Mr 5 was invited to one and then Mr 10. They are one big cacophonous wall of noise. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it. 

In spite of this, I know that when November rolls around and Mr 5 becomes Mr 6, I will dutifully book him one. This is still preferable than inviting people to our hand grenade worthy home. And infinitely preferable to me having to be the hostess to any party. I'll just make sure I have extra strength panadol with codeine on the day for the inevitable headache.

Which brings me to my next item....

HEADACHES

Micky Blue Eyes and I must be responsible for keeping the makers  of Nurofen thriving. On any given day, one or the other or both of us have a headache. Fun times.  

BROKEN SLEEP AND DISJOINTED, CRAZY DREAMS

Last night's blissful  slumber involved a  dream of passing an horrific car accident. I spotted a  severed  head on the road with huge pools of blood. Needless to say, I woke up feeling sick and shaken. 

I am not taking any illegal drugs, so where are these ridonkulous dreams coming from?  Perhaps I should just start a meth habit and be done with it? Except I have no idea where I would find anything like that in the classy old western suburbs of Sydney. 

That concludes my Monday morning moaning. Big sighs of relief all round. Well, I could keep going, but I'm sure we're all over crashing, heaving bores. Ahem.

Linking up forLaugh Link and I Must Confess. 

What are you completely over? 

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