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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Rambling Rants

Since I already banged on about mindfulness last week and how absolutely brilliant and fabulous I am with the technique, I figured I would have nothing to rant about this week for The Lounge. Then, I found myself in a perfectly charming mood for most of the week. I felt like punching anyone who had the misfortune to glance sideways at me. Nice. This was when I wasn't feeling all bloated, blah and sooky sooky la la. Thank you, PM Fucking S. I hate you.

These mood swings persisted for most of the week, until the other day when I was innocently sitting down minding my business, and BAM! It felt like I’d been stabbed. Nope, just period pain. Oh, the joys of being a woman.

Which brings me to another joy of being female. Bra's. I am 42 and I’ve never found a comfortable one yet. I’m beginning to think that using the word bra and comfortable in the same sentence is an oxymoron.

While I am here whinging away, I may as well whine about the weather. It’s COLD. I have to put up with freezing my tits off for at least another 2 months before I can begin whinging that it’s TOO HOT!! Hmph. 

What else can I whinge and rant about? Oh yeah, yesterday I had Mr 9’s Parent/Teacher interview. I don’t know what it is about these things that make me feel like I’m a little girl at school again, being chastised by the teacher for reading my  Enid Blyton book under the desk when I was supposed to be working. Not that I ever did that. Nope. No way. Ahem.

The teacher mentioned that Mr 9 often doesn’t complete his homework. Yeah, there’s a reason for that. He sometimes needs my help and I DON’T UNDERSTAND IT. Year 3 Homework. THE SHAME.

Why does homework have to be so freaking complicated? And why is there so quite so much of it? I sent my kids to school instead of home schooling them so I didn't have to deal with this stuff. In fact, I can’t even believe there are people who would seriously consider that as an option. I mean, of course I admire it think it’s sheer insanity, but I couldn’t do it myself.

What's that? I'm a lazy arsed bogan? Well, duh. EXACTLY. I need the freaking teachers to do all that shit for me. It's not like my boys will learn much from me other than Advanced Cake Eating Skills. I've got that covered. 

Of course, being such a lazy arsed bogan, I left it until the last minute to come up with this post (so far, it's been worth the wait, right?) then Thursday rolled around and it was time for The Lounge link up and I had nothing prepared, when I woke up feeling all dizzy and nauseous without even having had a single drink the nigh t before! What is with that? 

But then, this morning, I had the house to myself, as Micky Blue Eyes had taken the car to be checked for rego and Mr 4 was at my parents house. After dutifully trudging up to the school with Mr 11 and 9, I then came home, happily made myself a coffee and sat down, in glorious silence, thinking I would be able to do some blog posts in peace. Wrong.

The computer DID NOT WORK. I spent hours fucking around unplugging and re-booting it, swearing at it and feeling like throwing it. Now it appears to be working, but who knows how long that will last.

 

 

 

Another thing which had me peeved this week, was when I decided to dye my hair. I  bought one of those new foamy ones. It was super easy to apply. The only problem was, it has a very strong perfume, so naturally, because I am super sensitive to such things, by the time I went to bed later that night I had a pounding headache. Which pisses me off, because it probably means I can’t use it again and it was  so much easier than the other messy, drippy dyes and having to cling wrap my head. Hmph. DOUBLE HMPH, EVEN.

I know. That doesn't make sense, but when do I ever make sense? Plus, I used the word 'rambling' in the title, so that should have been a give away that this post would be a heap of rambling CRAP. You knew you what you were getting yourself into right there, okay? So, I'm not going to apologise for the few minutes of your life you'll never get back after reading this drivel. Oh, alright. SORRY. Better luck next time. I might come up with something readable. Not promising anything, however.

 

Linking with The Lounge which is being hosted by Robomum.

 

What has you ranting and raving this week?

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Leaves On A Stream

Hello there! I am linking up this old post for Life This Week. The one where I took the piss out of being mindful. Then I got cancer and suddenly shit got real and I had to start taking this stuff seriously... But that's another story.

Anyway here are my rantings from 2013. Enjoy.

As a general rule I am usually quite placid and easy going. Consequently it does take rather a lot to really piss me off. So therefore I knew I was going to find this topic extremely difficult. Not much truly riles me. I am languid and sedate. Especially now, as I am slowly becoming proficient at this whole mindfulness marlarkey, you see. So even that barking dog next door, barely ruffles a reaction in me. I am focused in the present moment with impartial non-judgement. I won’t let it bother me. Nope. No way. It’s just a dog barking. ENDLESSLY. Big deal, right?

Similarly, that mountain of lego that seems to multiply and spread to every corner of the house, is just lego. Silly old lego. EVERYWHERE. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve trodden on it.  The hours that it takes to painstakingly make sure every single last piece of the crap, erm.. I mean, the lego, is off the floor before you can vacuum, is just another part of life. Impartial non-judgement. Yep, that’s me these days. I get it.  It’s neither good nor bad. It just is. Doesn’t bother me AT ALL.  If I miss a few pieces and therefore inadvertently vacuum them up, so what? It only means the vacuum cleaner will become blocked LOSE SUCTION AND I HAVE TO FUCK AROUND TAKING IT OUTSIDE AND TAKING IT APART TO SEE WHERE THE PIECE IS STUCK…but, oops, why am I shouting?  Sorry.  Back to the mindfulness. Breathe. It’s no big deal. This mindfulness is really the SHIZZ. Totally works.

If I slave over a hot stove cooking a wonderful meal for my family only to serve it up to three ungrateful bastards lovely boys who recoil in horror as if I had served them dog shit on toast, why should I let it get to me?  Especially if, at that precise moment, Micky Blue Eyes decides to talk to me about something accountant like and tedious important, saying something like “Blah blah blah spreadsheet, blah blah blah profit margins blah blah something blah blah”(or at least that’s what I hear), it doesn’t make me want to poke my own eyeballs out. No way. I’m too calm and centred for that.

I can sit down to have a cakie and it doesn’t annoy me that it’s bad for me, while boring old broccoli is extremely good for me. Because I’m eating mindfully, so that means I’ll be able to stop after a few mouthfuls. Somehow the whole cake is gone with those few mindful mouthfuls, though. Ahem. Details. 

I am totally grounded and centred in the moment. NOTHING bothers me anymore. Now that I am mindful the following things simply never annoy me AT ALL:

·       Waiting in queues.

·       Vague Facebook status updates.

·       Sales assistants who are nowhere to be seen when you need them, but fling the curtains back to the change rooms while hollering “How are you going in there?” when you are half naked.

·       My boys endless fascination with Spiderman and all superheroes.

·       Ditto their Harry Potter fascination.

·       The Voice judges and all of their phoney gushing over the contestants. When Ricky Martin says “you took me to another place” I no longer think, well why don’t you go to that place and stay there, Ricky? Nope. No way.

·       Having to share a computer.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment and STILL having to wait.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment at 8am for the first appointment to avoid the previously mentioned waiting and STILL WAITING.

·       The gross unfairness of male grooming and maintenance versus female grooming and maintenance.

·       Telemarketers.

·       Bra’s.

Yep, mindfulness has cured me of all of all that annoyance. What a relief Sigh.

 So when I went to see a shrink, riddled with crippling anxiety and she suggested this mindfulness crap technique and gave me a cd, which I listened to and some dude implored me in a flat monotone to just let my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream, it didn’t totally annoy me that I paid $150 bucks an hour for this ABSOLUTE FUCKING CRAP!!! LEAVES ON A FUCKING STREAM!! I’M MORE LIKELY TO IMAGINE MYSELF THROWING THE FUCKING CD AT YOU!!  FUCKING MINDFULNESS!! GIVE ME SOME FUCKING VALIUM AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  YOU TOO, YOU FUCKING STUPID BARKING DOG!! FUCKING SHUUT UUUUUUUUUUUP!

AHEM.

Good lord. Where did that come from? Oh dear. Right then, I’m off to practice watching my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream. Or, to kick something. One or the other.

What are your pet peeves? Do you 'get' mindfulness?

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A Bogan Reads A Book (A Billion Times)

Today I have the tedious task of bringing to you my favourite books, movies and songs. I say tedious because this list will most likely be extremely short, boring and predictable.

Once again, I will totally lose some bogan cred when I confess that I have never even read the 50 Shades Of Grey trilogy. Is it even a trilogy? No idea. I know. Shocking, right? How can I call myself a bogan?

Likewise, I've never touched any of the Twilight series or The Hunger Games either.

My love of books began predictably enough with good old smashing Enid Blyton. It was quite a shock to discover that the woman who created The Magic Faraway Tree, The Famous Five series and many other books, all of which I devoured as a child, was, in fact, rather horrid in real life and not the sweet, whimsical person one would have imagined. Sigh. I guess that is why we love escaping into fiction. Reality SUCKS.

Following my escapades up The Faraway Tree, where I seem to have permanently left my brain, I read Anne Of Green Gables and the whole 'Anne' series. A new obsession began. She made me proud to be a ranga. And proud to wear puffed sleeves. Shut up. It was the 80's.

But surely my most overwhelming book obsession came in the early 90's with the publication of an authorised biography about The Carpenters called The Carpenters: The Untold Story by Ray Coleman.  I read it a few billion times. This was riding on the coat tails of a similar obsession with a God awful made for TV movie  about Karen Carpenter, imaginatively titled The Karen Carpenter Story.

One of the most curious things about that TV movie, apart from the absurd amount of times I was able to watch it, was the fact that they had apparently gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure that certain details in the film were supposedly accurate, so they had used The Carpenters real clothes, instruments, cars and filmed certain scenes in their real home. Then, after doing all that, the actress who played Karen, Cynthia Gibb, wore the most ridiculous, fake looking wigs throughout. Weird. Yet I watched. Then I watched it again. And again. Just as I had read that Coleman bio again and again. Maybe I was hoping it would end differently if I read it just one more time. Nope. She still died in the end. Every. Single.Time. *sobs*

Bad wig alert. As well as bad acting, bad script..and a truly
bad ending. Sigh.

Then, in 2010 yet another bio about Karen came along which emphasised how much the previous Ray Coleman one, (and The Karen Carpenter Story) had been sugar coated and white washed. I realised that I had readthe previous book so many times looking for something that wasn't there. What Karen was really like. I felt like I got that from this book, so it's now my new favourite.

Which brings me to my favourite songs. You'll never guess in a million years what they are. No way. Okay, I'll tell you.

Carpenters ones. What a shock.

 I love this live performance of Rainy Days And Mondays. And weren't the 70's groovy?

Oh okay, their songs were a bit cheesy. But, THE VOICE. Except this one. Cutting edge stuff.

The song. The accompanying film clip, with all the planets and spaceships that make Star Wars look like Pigs In Space. The green satin jump suit. Classic. Shut up.

I also love Barbra Streisand songs and movies. Which is odd, because I don't really like people particularly, or think that people who need people are the luckiest people in the world. Not really. People are the WORST. I'll still listen to Le Babs sing it, though.  Nothing but the best for this bogan.

Linking up with The Lounge which is being hosted this week by Tegan from Musings Of The Misguided.

Do you have any book or movie obsessions? Or favourite songs?

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Bogan For Hire

The Lounge Lizards have us talking about careers and jobs this week, which is timely, as I happened to come across my old resume tucked away in a cupboard a few weeks ago. Upon perusing this ancient epistle, I was sincerely astonished.  Amazed, in fact. How it is that I never set the whole career world on fire with that thing I will simply never know.  I mean, apparently I could answer the phone and everything. Those are some serious skills right there.

Don't worry, if that sucker rings I know EXACTLY what to do.

 

This answering the phone ability certainly came in handy in THE WORST JOB I'VE EVER HAD. Which was in a call centre. Enough said, right?

It was a call centre for a major NSW Insurance Company and Road Side assistance concern. Let's just call them NR NO WAY. Their commercials would have you believe that they are exceedingly helpful to people. They probably are if you are broken down and need assistance. However, other than the exciting moment I actually spoke to Anthony Warlow when he called one day, I didn't find it find very helpful to my mental health working there.

 If ever I have to call them in present times I still have traumatic flashbacks to when I worked there. It was approximately 16 years ago since I left. It still haunts me. I sometimes have appalling nightmares that I am back there, with my head phones on and an obnoxious car dealer is shouting at me "ALPHA, ROMEO, FOXTROT, BRAVO, 137865 VICTORY, QUATRO!!"

Yeah, I didn't know what that meant either. My skin is crawling just thinking about it. Then there were the wonderful things we had there called Performance Reviews. My performance wasn't so sterling apparently. Hmph. Hard to believe with such an outstanding resume.

In addition to having the tremendous skill of answering the phone, one of the tasks I mastered in my role as an Assistant Library Technician at the State Library Of NSW many years ago, was the opening and sorting of mail. Impressive.  I simply don’t know how I never ended up actually becoming the State Librarian. 

Also, these skills were only the tip of the iceberg of my extraordinary ability. Evidently, I could also do filing and place bar code stickers on books!!  Such incredible attributes in one person!  Oh, and I could also shelve the books, use the photocopier and write up order forms!  I know. It’s just too much. No wonder I never achieved a permanent position in a library.  I was just too damn good.  Ahem.

Yep, I am ALWAYS doing this in my spare time.
I can even do this while eating cake. Or typing. Too easy.

If my stupendous skill list wasn’t quite enough awesomeness to take in, I was also intensely fascinating away from work. I had listed my interests as:  Reading, writing, typing, yoga, dogs and cooking. Interesting, since at the time I never managed to even write a shopping list, I accidentally murdered my dog , have dubious cooking skills and wouldn’t know a downward dog from a dagwood dog.  And since when is typing an interest? Typing??  I might as well have put down stamp collecting to make myself seem even more cutting edge.

Of course it has now been years, okay, decades, since I used all of those fabulous afore mentioned job skills. But, this is fine, because during  that time I have not been simply resting on my laurels. No siree. I have, in fact, added many more skills to my repertoire.

I completed a Statement of Attainment in something called Computing Skill For The Office to add to the Library Practice Associate Diploma that I completed more than 20 years ago.  In doing so I achieved a monumental typing speed of – wait for it- 33 standard words per minute!!   STUNNING! Skills, people. Skills.  Especially taking into account that typing was supposedly one of my interests.  Snorts.

I’m also mollified to realise that I have lovingly kept and archived my old High School written references should I ever decide to bring my brilliance back into the workforce. They are obviously essential in this day and age when prospective employers can Google  you instantly, and the only way that an employer would know that I was punctual and always had the necessary equipment required for lessons. That sentence alone is clearly enough to have me hired immediately. Ditto the fact that my appearance at High School was apparently neat and tidy. I’m also impressed that I had tact and diplomacy in my dealings with people. This trait was mentioned in both my Year 10 and my Year 12 references, when they obviously couldn’t think of an original way to put a positive spin on the fact that I never uttered more than three words during all of high school. Maximum.

 But even taking everything that I have already mentioned into consideration this is still only the tip of the iceberg in regard to how brilliant and employable I am. I mean, I have so many other untapped skills and abilities that I would need to add to an already overwhelmingly wonderful resume. They would include the following:

·         I know the words to every single Carpenters song ever recorded.

·         I also know the words to quite a lot of ABBA songs.

·         Ditto Barbra Streisand songs

·         I am completely mute and silent at least 99.9% of the time. You know, the whole ‘tact and diplomacy’ thing. This is a helpful attribute in the workplace, because haven’t we all had work colleagues that we wish would just shut the fuck up?

·         I can eat my entire body weight in cake on a daily basis.  Essential for all the birthday celebrations that might take place in a busy office in any given week.

·         I have Ass Burgers Aspergers and everybody knows that all Aspie people are genius’s. Just because I haven’t figured out exactly what my genius is yet, doesn’t mean I’m not one.  I must be.  Of course I am. Shut up.

·         I have the singular ability to stare into space vacantly for long periods of time. An intense form of daydreaming meditation that makes me much more relaxed and focused at forgetting  completeing my work.

·         Clearly I am an amazing writer and this blog is a testament to that, having won the obscure but prestigious Best Blog Featuring Bogans Award.

·         Oh alright, I made that last bit about the award up. But, if there really was such an award OF COURSE I would win it, right?

·         I can make up all this boring as batshit bogan bullshit. Brilliant. And clearly I rock alliteration.

Right then. There we have it. The blinding brilliance that is me.  I may as well stop there or we could literally just be here for DAYS.  I’m off to re-write my resume.  I’m sure the perfect job for a mute, cake- eating, Carpenters obsessed Aspie who can type 33 words per minute and sort mail is out there. Don’t bother applying. It’s MINE. So ner.

Linking up with The Lounge, which is being hosted this week by Kim from Falling Face First.

 

 

Is your resume as brilliant as mine?  What incredible skills do you possess?  And what was your worst EVER job?

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An Idyllic Day

Long ago and far away in the fun and fabulous days of our former bogan existence, life was full of exciting bogan adventures. These adventures often included the wonderful, idyllic days we referred to as our 'Family Fun Days'. This was using the word fun in the same sense of the expression 'Fun Run'. Oxymoron, anyone?  When I remember those grand and glorious days my eyes become misty and I am filled with bittersweet nostalgia.

I recall waking on a Sunday morning feeling zombie like and ancient refreshed and energetic.Micky Blue Eyes hands me a lovely, frothy vegetable juice fresh from the juicer. With beaming eyes he  then utters the fateful words:

"Why don't we go out today for a Family Fun Day?"

Evidently making me drink those juices isn't quite enough torture. The boys greet this suggestion with all the enthusiasm they usually reserve for doing their homework and cleaning their rooms.

On my ideal day I wouldn't wake up to this

"NOOOOO!!" Mr 11 is wild eyed and frantic, while Mr 9 can barely manage a low, pitiful moaning of dull despair. There was no escape. Once Micky Blue Eyes made up his mind we were doomed.

Previous outings had involved driving somewhere in the car. Now, however, we had discovered the "Family Fun Day'.This meant we could purchase a train ticket from Boganville into the city for a family and it would only cost around ten bucks, Mick decided this was a bargain that these non cashed up bogans couldn't miss.

Reluctantly, I showered, dressed and we bundled into the car to drive to the train station.

"Have you got the pram and everything?" I asked as Mick reversed the car from the driveway. He assured me we did and we set off. We parked a block or so away from the station and walked there, avoiding eye contact with the usual unsavoury types loitering around the station negotiating drug deals or whatever it is that they do there. Not sure.  Boganville. So classy. Sigh.

Upon boarding the train, I was assigned to 'stroller sit' while Mick ventured down into the carriage to attempt the impossible. Make three boys with raging testosterone, including a hyperactive three year old sit still and be quiet for the duration of the journey. Good luck with that, I thought as I happily assumed position next to the stroller which was laden with all the essentials for a family day out.

Several minutes passed as the train hurtled along the tracks. At the next stop two young dudes boarded the train and I eavesdropped on their interesting conversation about weed, until they got off a few stops later, possibly to score more weed. Not sure.

At this point, Mick and the boys clambered back up from below. Mr 8 needed to blow his nose. I scrambled in my handbag for a tissue, but came out empty-handed.

"Oh, can't I just wipe it on my shirt?" he wailed.

"NO!" we both shouted, simultaneously. Thankfully, he refrained. We had to resort to using a piece of paper. So elegant.

It was at this point that we realised we had forgotten Mr 3's bag with the change of clothes. Just in case. We could only cross our fingers and pray that he didn't present us with what is known in the Bogan Box as a Mt. Tomah Moment. This refers to the time we went to the Mt. Tomah Botanic Gardens for a picnic and Mr 11 who was then Mr 2 decided to poop his entire body weight, and we had forgotten the nappy bag. Charming.

We finally disembarked at Central station, upon discovering that the train lines were closed, so we would have to walk all the way to the Botanic Gardens. Immediately, the hustle and bustle of the city was completely over-whelming for this Aspergirl. I pondered with some wonder, how I had ever managed to work there a decade ago.

Plodding on , we schlepped up George Street. The boys spotted a Maccas in the distance like a mirage. However there seemed to be even more ratbags and feral bogans loitering around George Street than there were back in our beloved Boganville, so we pressed on until we found another Maccas where the boys filled up on nuggets and fries. After this, we strolled through a rather snazzy and upmarket shopping mall, where I proceeded to go into full on Aspie sensory overload from all the bright shinyness.  Fluorescent lights bouncing off shiny floors, garish Christmas decorations added to the overall effect which resulted in me feeling nauseous.

Feeling sick and light-headed we trudged back past Gucci and Prada.I pondered the fact that even if I had the bucks to shop there, I couldn't stand all the lights and brightness. But I guess that's what online shopping if for, should I ever win lotto.  Eventually we reached the Botanic Gardens where we sat and watched the boats sailing by on the harbour, for a blissful half hour. Mr 3 chased birds around. The other two boys whined that they were bored, shattering our short lived bliss. So it was on to Chinatown, where we had some Chinese food.

While there, Mr 8 exclaimed loudly "Why are there so many Chinese people here? It's FREAKING ME OUT!!"

Awkward. Ahem.

We purchased some fresh fruit at the markets before heading back to Boganville, relieved that yet another Family 'Fun' Day had finally finished.  Just like so many previous ones, which included:

• Visiting Cronulla Beach. It pissed rain.
• Visiting the Blue Mountains. Froze our bogan bums off.
• Visiting the Central Coast by train. We spent most of the day on the train, where we also had to change a 'Mt. Tomah' style nappy while in a cramped country train vestibule trying to hang on for dear life. So. Much. Fun.

I must confess those Family Fun Days were not exactly my ideal day out. We did manage to come close to something resembling my ideal day out recently. During the school holidays we decided to drive to Megalong Valley. On the way up the mountain we stopped at a cake shop. CAKIES! Then at a Vinnies. BOOKS! A day that involves books, cakies and minimum stress is my ideal day out. After this we went for a bush walk, then went to the Megalong Valley Tea Rooms where we had scones with jam and cream. More cakies! Sort of. Not really. But still good. It was a relaxing day out for a change. Still, I can't help feeling like my ideal day at the moment wouldn't really be a day out at all, but a day in.

Alone. Just me, my books, cakies and Carpenters.

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

 

What is your ideal day out? Or would you prefer a day in, like me?

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Fifty Shades Of Purple And The C Word

On Tuesday I attended a group called Fifty Shades Of Purple at the Women’s Health Centre here in Boganville. I was most nervous upon leaving the house, and  barely awake as I was expected to be there at the indecent hour of 9.30am. The idea that a busy mother of 3 should be awake and functioning at this time is preposterous. Ahem.  I mean that’s what ABC kids is for, right? So I can sleep in.  Never mind that they have to be at school before 9.20am. Ridiculous .

To make matters worse there appeared to be no reserved car space for me directly out the front with a sign saying RESERVED FOR VANESSA CONNOR. Rude, I tell you. I had to circle the surrounding streets for a full 10 minutes with some arsehole tailgating me, frantically looking for a spot.  There wasn’t one to be found, so I was reduced to parking several streets away in the RSL car park. I reflected that it was odd that we were not members of the local RSL. Our bogan cred is in question.

Breathlessly, I finally arrived at the centre, late of course and was ushered into a room FULL of scary people.  There was at least four of them!! As well as the group leader/coordinator, who is also my counsellor.  Oh and there was a cute little dog, belonging to one of the ladies.  He was some sort of guide dog for PTSD victims which I thought was a smashing idea. And, yes, I should really stop reading Enid Blyton books at my age. 

Anyhoo, we all introduced ourselves  then the session went on to discussing negative self-talk. Apparently I am not the only person who has some crazy bitch talking shit to me constantly in my head. Who knew?

I also realised that I do ALL OF THESE THINGS:

·         Catastrophising

·         Exaggerating the negative and discounting the positive

·         Mind-reading

·         The ‘shoulds’

I have come to strongly dislike the word should and frankly find it most unhelpful in life.  Honestly that negative Nelly in my head with her catastrophic  crap and should, should, should all the bloody time just needs to SHUT RIGHT UP.

After we pondered on all this it was time for some morning tea, which involved coffee and biscuits which was  nearly as good as cake. Not  quite, mind you but the budget probably doesn’t stretch to cakies so I’ve made a mental note: bring cake. Mind you if I actually bake any cake to take with me it will probably be a miracle. (I actually did bake muffins and jam drops, but they have already been eaten. Oops.)

Then, just as I was beginning  to relax into the group, relieved that there would in fact be no bondage involved  in a group named Fifty Shades Of Purple, came the dreaded C word.

CRAFT

I quit Playgroup partly because I was so traumatised by craft. I never wanted to hear the ominous C word again.

We had to make a ‘Kind Card’ for ourselves.  I drew a dodgy flower on the front, then wrote BE KIND TO YOURSELF inside it and coloured in one side with crayons. Clearly I am an artistic genius who has somehow been over looked. The fact that Mr 4 could draw something MUCH better is irrelevant.

The strange thing was that I did find it oddly calming. So perhaps there is something to this craft caper after all. I survived it without feeling like chaining myself up to be whipped would actually be less painful.

Soon after this, the group was finished for the day and I filed out to wait for my next appointment. One of the other ladies was waiting for a taxi and we chatted and discovered we only live a couple of streets away so I offered her a lift for next week. There are six more weeks. I’m looking forward to it.

Yes, even the craft. (Shut up Randa and Poss).

Do you attend any groups? Enjoy craft? Do you also have a crazy bitch in your head telling you shit?

 

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