Hello Again

Hello there! Me again. Thought you'd gotten rid of me, didn't you? Sorry!

As George Costanza would say: I'M BACK, BABY, I'M BACK!  SO NER! The 'so ner' bit was from me, not George.

I just haven't bothered posting here for a while for the following reasons:

Laziness
School holidays
Dodgy internet connection
Nothing remotely interesting to post about
I was too busy totalling our old car (ahem)
We had to get a new car (see above)
Did I mention laziness?

So now that I've confessed that I'm tragically lazy, (just to tell you something you didn't already know), I have a couple more shocking revelations.

As I mentioned above, I managed to write off our old car. On the last week of term before the school holidays, I set off one afternoon to pick up Mr 13. As I was driving along the narrow street at the back of the school which leads to the car park, I spotted him walking towards me. In my stupidity, I kept my eyes off the road for just a second or two too long and BAM! I hit a parked car. Genius.

According to Mr 13 it happened because he is just so devastatingly handsome that I couldn't take my eyes off him. True.

It's hard to explain, but because of the way or angle I hit the other car, the entire front left tyre and suspension were completely stuffed. Fun times.

On the positive side, we had been intending to get a new car for ages so this sped up the process considerably.

Meanwhile, here is the most shocking revelation of all:

I haven't really missed blogging much. I know. How shameful. I often read about how passionate others are about writing and realise that I'm not. Once I get started I do like it and usually feel better, just like with exercise. However, I'm not passionately driven to do it everyday.

Therefore, I have two choices:


1. Quit blogging
2. Continue with my ad hoc blogging approach
3. Realise that nobody really cares one way or the other anyway, so just get a life and get on with it.



Oh okay, that was three choices. I'm not good with numbers.

I have heard of something called 'slow blogging', so I'm sure I could make 'ad hoc blogging' a thing. It's totally revolutionary! I could even come up with a printable! It would say something like:

AD HOC BLOGGING

Blog whenever you like, however you like!

On second thought, it sounds like too much effort to come up with that printable, so just write it on a sticky note, okay? Done.

In keeping with the ad hoc approach, I'm just jumping from one topic to the next, in a totally random fashion. Which brings me to the topic of this week's I Must Confess: Fashion. Specifically our most embarrassing pieces. Now I'm laughing at myself for calling my clothes 'pieces'. Snort. Pieces of crap, perhaps.

 It would be far too difficult for me to single out certain things that are more embarrassing than others. All of my 'fashion' (and I use that term rather loosely, just as I wear most of my clothes, coincidentally), is embarrassing. This is due to the fact that 90% of it sports a Millers tag. Classy. That is a shameful enough confession without providing photographic evidence as well.  Oh all right, if you insist....

Micky Blue Eyes and I looking windblown and ever so stylish
in the Blue Mountains about a month ago

The other 10% of my clothes sport an equally classy label such as Best & Less. I like to mix it up a bit. I've even splurged and bought some shoes a week or two ago from Payless Shoes. Are you detecting a theme here?


If that theme seems to scream: Lifestyles of the Broke And Aimless, then you've totally got where I'm coming from. On the plus side, at least you can leave my blog feeling smug and superior. Unlike other blogs or on Facey where everyone seems to be just better than you. In every way: clothes, lifestyle, holidays, diets, running.

So I'm providing a community service really. No matter how pathetic your life seems, there is always somebody more pathetic! ME! You're welcome.

Over and out for now. Stay tuned for the next ad hoc post. It might be tomorrow, next week, next month or next  year, you just never know! Ad hoc blogging! It's a thing! Spread the word. Or not. Whatever. Only if you feel like it. That's the idea. Ad hoc.

Later dudes!  

Linking up for I Must Confess and Laugh Link

What are you having for dinner?

(You see what I did there? Totally ad hoc question, in keeping with the ad hoc theme!)  Shut up....

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Bad Habits

Another Monday has rolled around , Mr 4 had his customary Monday Morning ‘headache’ otherwise known as Mondayitis,  I have another horrid Man Cold since all the males I live with can’t seem to treat their germs the same as the TV remote and NOT SHARE, and it’s time for another  round of confessing.  This week is all about channelling our inner Billy Fields and confessing all our bad habits. Anyone under 40  and/or not Australian is probably thinking Billy Who?

This dude, and this song.

 

Like Billy, I’m afraid I have far too many  shockingly bad habits.

Negativity

I seem to be a ‘glass half empty’ kind of girl. I don’t know if this is related to being Aspie or just to being me. Micky Blue Eyes mentions his fervent desire to just take off to Darwin or just about anywhere, in fact and my train of thought goes something like “Oh shit, plane travel with 3 kids. NIGHTMARE.  Scorching heat.  NIGHTMARE.  NO WAY. FUCK THAT.” Versus: "Awesome. A chance to travel in Australia and spend time with my family."

Procrastination

I seem to live by the motto: Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? This seems to worked out well considering that I’m now 42 years old and still have no idea what I want to do when I grow up.

Comparisons

I have the extremely helpful gift of constantly comparing myself with others and finding myself lacking.  This is not supremely useful in life. I don’t recommend it.

Disorganised

This is one trait where I’m totally going to use my Ass Burgers as an excuse. Because apparently we can be impaired in something called 'Executive Function' which, according to Prof Tony Atwood's Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome, is a psychological term which includes:

• organisational and planning abilities
• working memory
• inhibition and impulse control
• self-reflection and self-monitoring
• time management and prioritising
• understanding complex or abstract concepts
• using new strategies

Also according to Wikipedia, I can also use it as an excuse for my inability to resist cake! See, I knew it wasn't my fault!  Which brings me to my next bad habit...

 

Over Eating

I eat a lot of cake. And chocolate. And bread. And…EVERYTHING.

Emotional Eating

I eat more than usual of all of the above when I’m sad or stressed.

More Eating

Then I just eat some more just for the sake of it.

Did I mention, eating?

Yep, you guessed it, more eating.

General Laziness

I would be completely and utterly shocked and appalled at my own monumental and breathtaking  laziness except that I CAN’T BE BOTHERED.  What I can be bothered doing, though is...

EATING! You know, just for something completely different. Then I get depressed that I’m fat, so I eat some more and get more depressed and more fat and so on…and basically one way or the other I just need to shut my mouth. Either shut it it and stop eating quite so much or shut it and stop whinging that I’m fat. Genius.

Quite a few of these habits fall into the area of ‘blogging’ habits as well as personal.  I’m a disorganised, lazy blogger who flies by the seat of my pants and pulls any ridiculous, tedious rubbish out of my arse at the last minute,  just like this crap. You’re welcome.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

 

                                                    
                               What are your bad habits?

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Lifestyles of The Broke And Aimless

It occurred to me that other day that I should be utterly appalled and horrified by own monumental laziness, but then I just couldn't be BOTHERED. In fact I have been so aimless and idle of late, that I haven't got a single interesting thing to tell you. Which is the same as usual, so let's press on.

At the beginning of April, Mr 9 was scheduled to have day surgery for some dental procedures. I worried endlessly about telling him, thinking he would FREAK. In the end it turned out that I was the one freaking. He was quite pleased with the idea of having a day or two off school and happily bounced around and beamed. The more he bounced and beamed, the more I paced and panicked. I am tragic. Pathetic.

We arrived at the day surgery at the scheduled time of 2.30pm by which point Mr 9 was ready to chew my arm off. He wasn't nervous at all. Just RAVENOUS. He finally strolled nonchalantly into theatre, while my heart pounded a chorus. Micky Blue Eyes and I then went to a nearby café to wait and have a coffee.  I then realised, I hardly ever frequent Cafes, which is, of course, in keeping with my classy bogan lifestyle. But, for somebody who considers herself the Queen of Cakies, this is just WRONG. Then we were booted out of the place when they were closing at 5pm, which was quite rude. After all we had spent a grand total of seven bucks sixty on two coffees. Hmph.

As we still had some time to fill in before Mr 9 would be out of theatre, we then decided to go on a lovely trip down memory lane and walk through the hospital where Micky Blue Eyes had had his Cancer operation and then endured six months of chemo therapy. These are the kind of memories that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. In fact, I did feel extremely grateful, as it could of turned out so differently. We both remembered the day when Mick's brother, Rob, visisted him at the hospital and took Mr 11, then a digger obsessed Mr 3, for a walk outside to see all the diggers at work as there were buildings under construction there at the time. Little did we know, that Rob would also be diagnosed with Cancer shortly thereafter, and pass away in 2008. It was a sombre reminder of how lucky we are.

Arriving back at the day surgery, we trudged back in through the car park. At this point there were only 3 vehicles still parked there. Ours and the two belonging to the surgeon and the anaesthetist. A shiny, new BMW, and an equally shiny and new Mercedes-Benz - and, a beat up corolla with a Carpenters sticker and a Western Sydney Wanderers sticker on the back. I'm sure you'd never guess which car was ours. Can you spot the bogans car?

We were then ushered back in to see a pale Mr 9 who was unfortunately rather ill from the anaesthetic. The dental procedures went well, however. Consequently, it was another hour or so before we could leave. Eventually we headed home where Mr 9 was able to sleep it off.

The following week involved going to yet another one of the 'mini' Fetes at the boys school. I am still waiting for them to have a 'massive' Fete. Not really. Mini Fete is tedious enough. Lining up for a sausage on stale bread. Yum, yum. But, as Mr 11 had seemed really keen for me to attend, asking me repeatedly "Are you coming, Mum?" I felt I should go. The real reason, he had been so anxious for my presence soon became obvious when he asked if he could go home early. It was the last week of term and less than an hour until bell time, so I agreed.

In no time at all school holidays were here, which means the boys mates have been over here nearly every day. One of them, in particular is proving quite difficult to extricate from the premises. The other day, Micky Blue Eyes had no sooner finished telling him he should probably go home after being here for several hours, as his Mum might be wondering where he was, then five minutes later I turned around and there he was in the kitchen, helping himself to a Nutella sandwich. Nice one.

So, instead of succeeding in getting the boys friends to leave, we decided to leave the premises for a day and go for a drive to Megalong Valley last Thursday. Up the mountain we meandered, finally stopping at a bakery. Cakie things! Then, we headed down the winding roads to Megalong Valley, where we went on a bush walk. We certainly did not stop in at the Tea Rooms there and have scones with jam and cream afterwards. No way. I never do anything like that. Ahem. It was, indeed, a delightful day. Five very contented bogans headed back to Boganville and our wonderful lifestyle of the broke and aimless.

In fact, I have realised there is alarming evidence of my slack-arsed, lackadaisical approach to life all around me. Such as:

• I have lots of charming baby photos adorning the walls. The 'baby' in question is turning 12 in July.
• The wardrobe in one of the boys rooms has one door on it that does not close. It has been that way for several years.
• We decided to look into the possibility of getting a brand new kitchen installed. After getting one quote, we haven't bothered pursuing it any further.
• We pondered the idea of perhaps going to New Zealand for our next holiday, then realised we would have to get passports, at which point it all seemed like too much effort. No doubt we will end up somewhere like Dubbo, where I will bitterly regret my lethargic ways.
• Similarly, I see friends photos of their overseas trips on Facebook and am jealous for a grand total of five seconds before realising, I couldn't actually be bothered schlepping overseas.
• Micky Blue Eyes suggested looking into getting a new phone. I should be excited about it, instead, I haven't bothered.
• I am finally catching up with some friends this weekend. I haven't seen them since February. I think.
• I am a 42 year old P Plate driver, after procrastinating for years from going for my license. I had the perfect opportunity to progress off my P plates to a full license, as my license expired a week or so ago. All I had to do was take another Driver Qualification Test. Instead, I didn't bother and renewed my P2 license until October 2015.

In fact it was just the other day that I had to go the RTA to renew my license. Micky Blue Eyes announced:

"I think we should walk there."

 I decided he is demented. Then, I realised I am even more demented, as I allowed him to talk me into it. We set off. It was quite a considerable distance, through various streets I'd never walked down before in my life, in spite of living in Boganville for 14 years. At one point we walked past a house that looked like something off an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive. Two doors down, another house resembled some sort of spaceship. I'd never noticed it before even though I must have driven past hundreds of times. Interesting. It was actually a very enjoyable walk.  The only problem was that, after we got there, went to the RTA and bought a few groceries, that we realised that walking all the way back wasn't going to be quite so enjoyable. We had to walk back up the hill which we had walked down, carrying a shopping bag in each hand. This proved quite tiring, so we stopped and rested on a bench.

It was there that, Mick, who loves trees, plants and all nature, commented that he suspected there were marijuana plants growing right there. Only in Boganville, right?  Ironically, I wouldn't know a marijuana plant from any other plant, being totally clueless and inexperienced in all things narcotic, despite being a born and bred bogan all my life. We finally made it home, where I scrutinised my new license photo and then wished I hadn't. Naturally.

In other news, I am seeing a counsellor at the Women's Health Centre in yet another attempt to make some sense of my Ass burgers thing and all the issues I have that go with it. It is going well so far, and will be ongoing for a while. In addition to this, the counsellor suggested I could join a group she is running called Fifty Shades of Purple. It is meant to be about self-esteem and mindfulness for women. I certainly hope there is no bondage involved. I also saw the Naturopath there and started taking some of her 'Witches Brew'. It tastes like ...actually I don't know what it tastes like because I've never tasted anything so fucking vile in my life. But hopefully it will work.

That is all for this edition of Lifestyles of the Broke And Aimless. Never fear, I will be back to bore you again very soon.

Should we have taken that suspected marijuana plant home? Will I ever progress off my P plates? Who really cares, anyway? Certainly not me, I'm going for a good lie down.

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