Poop.

Shit, as the quaint old saying goes, happens.

Black, white, rich, poor, gay, straight… Shit doesn’t care or discriminate. It’s an equal opportunities Bastard.

Like unexpectantly rising rent payments, the sudden appearance of a single smug-looking grey pubic hair, and unknowingly walking out of the ladies toilet with the back of your dress tucked into your knickers ( And not even the good “WhooHoo, I’m gonna get me some, peel these babies off with your teeth!” knickers, no… we’re talking back of the underwear drawer forgotten to do the laundry bellywarmers ) Shit is inescapable and randomly thrown at you to test how long it will take before you snap, buy a sniper rifle, and start picking off the seagulls flying past the balcony at 4am.

Now, before I get into exactly why I’ve been absent recently I think I should make it clear that pain is personal and mostly incomparable. Often pain is put on a sliding scale. You frequently see this in action in online forums where disagreements arise and eventually someone plays the “Cancer” card, which as everyone knows is supposed to trump all counter arguments and send the opposition to the Corner Of Shame. And to a certain extent that’s true.( Not the them having Cancer bit, that’s invariably a whopping big fib and reserves the Fibbee a nice stage-side dining table in the Restaurant Of Eternal Damnation ). You would have to be a Grade A moron to genuinely feel that snagging your tights on your nails and having to buy a new pair in any way or form compares to snagging a leg on some heavy-duty machinery and having to spend the rest of your life shoe shopping and saying to the assistant who is pointedly attempting not to stare, “No, I’ll only be needing the one, thanks.”

However, there’s a huge grey area in between Moderately Crappy and Holy Cow It’s A Diarrea-O-Rama! and those in the middle are at the mercy of perception.
I’ve been wallowing in that grey area for a while now. It’s not much fun.

Firstly, I almost lost my eldest son to suicide. Then I almost lost my youngest boy to diabetes. And a couple of weeks ago I almost lost my daughter to pneumonia.
I’m starting to feel like there’s a bit of a pattern developing here. Someone is definitely tuggin’ my chain.

And tuggin’.
And tuggin’.
And you know how that makes me feel?

I feel lucky.
I could have lost my beautiful, smart, funny, caring children, and Lord knows that would pretty much finish me too, but I didn’t. It was a close thing, and Christ it was painful each time ( and still is ), but it could so easily have been end-of-the-scale pain. The sort of pain you don’t recover from. Deep black not-a-speck-of-grey pain.

So that’s where I’ve been, showering off the excrement and feeling very grateful it was just a light shower as opposed to being pushed into a bubbling hot tub of the stuff. You can thank me for the mental image later 🙂

Slacker.

To celebrate my 1,100th blog view ( I missed the 1000th.. that’ll teach me not to pay attention ) I’m taking the night off 😀  This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that flu is still kicking my butt and my body has become permanently melted to my pyjamas. No siree, I’m not a wuss.

In the meantime, just in case you’d like a little entertaining and you feel short-changed I’m just going to drop this here:

Back tomorrow 🙂

I can haz wizdom plz.

I bet when you were a teenager you thought you knew it all, or at the very least had more than a rudimentary grasp on things. Depending on where you are in your teens you will have worked out, singlehandedly, at least a couple of the following :

a) Puberty isn’t a fabulous coming-of-age sepia-tinted blossoming. In fact it’s cramps and tampon embarrassment, or sudden unexpected erections on the bus.

b) All boys are bastards and all girls are bitches when you start dating. Coincidentally , your very first unrequited love will bring you a whole new world of pain.

c) Your parents don’t know anything. NEWSFLASH : This is so true it’s actually not funny. We’re trying to muddle through, just like you are, only we’re not allowed to have tantrums about it. That’s why we have medication. If you want real wisdom you’d be better served skipping a generation and going straight to your grandparents.

d) Don’t let anyone choose your religion, career, partner or clothing for you. That sort of thing is fine when you’re a kid, but after that you have to step up and take responsibility. And yes, responsibility is scary, that’s why a lot of adults who know better avoid it also.

However, life is an ongoing lesson. Sometimes I feel I turned up late without my notes and sat through 10 minutes before I realise I’m in the wrong classroom, but a lesson nonetheless. Take last night. Last night I learned that when you’re mixing yourself an alcoholic cold remedy MORE does not equate to BETTER. I’m not quite sure why I decided that half a mug of steaming hot whiskey would be a good idea when experience has already shown me that a couple of capfulls is my usual limit.

Not only did my respiratory system start playing a jolly game of “Now you can breathe… now you can’t… hahahaha” but bizarrely my heart was thumping so much that my hair had a heartbeat. Granted, I fell asleep relatively quickly. Only to wake up an hour later with the Mother, Father, Aunt, Uncle and Next Door Neighbour of all headaches, and nausea usually reserved for the day after a dodgy kebab-van hamburger you couldn’t resist at 3am.

So tonight I’m skipping the remedies and I’m just going to snuggle up in bed. But before I go, today’s topic has just been posted and it’s occurred to me just how few of these I’ve actually used. I feel kinda bad about it if I had the energy, but as it stands I’ll be using the “The other kids aren’t doing it either!” defence, thereby bypassing any potential guilt in favour of extra time under the duvet. It’s a time management thing.

I’m not pished Ossifer, honeshtly.

I’ve got about 10 minutes to do this before I pass out due to vast amounts of alcohol consumption. No, I’m not a raging lush, I just have zero tolerance for the juice, and unfortunately a very hot toddy is about the only thing that’s going to guarantee me any sleep tonight.

Yes, I have another cold. And yes, I do seem to get a lot of them, don’t I ? It wasn’t always this way. As a youngster I was pretty much a picture of health. Then as an adult a decision was made somewhere along the line to let my offspring drain every scrap of resistance out of my body, which I’m pretty certain I wasn’t consulted about. So I’ve had a cold of varying intensities for 15 years now.

I didn’t discover the hot toddy thing until a few years back when I thought I’d try it out on Hubby. His verdict was, “Well, I don’t feel any better but now I just don’t give a crap. Can I have another one?” and I’ve been self-medicating myself with toddies and half a tub of Vitamin C tablets ever since. Unlike Hubby though, I’m not a big fan of alcohol, so I really have to force it down. And I get squiffy really really quickly, so if I suddenly get totally incoherent mid sentence you know why.

The job that I mentioned briefly last night I had to turn down. I can’t really go into details but it just wasn’t a good use of my time, so I’m changing direction and … oh dear, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. That’ll be the booze. Ooops.

Where was I? Hmmm. Possibly best I don’t try today’s topic in case I end up typing “whoop whoop whoop floooooobity whoop I’m an aubergine arwooooo” or something similar, though the spellcheck says I spelled aubergine correctly so I’m not doing too badly. Though I am sweating and I think one of the legs of my chair has suddenly got a lot shorter. I best go to bed. I promise I shall attempt to produce something a bit more entertaining tomorrow. I think I had something else incredibly important to add to the chicken thing, but I’m buggered if I can remember what it is.

*sniffle*

I’m not feeling terribly well. I think travelling in the freezing cold for 6 hours wearing nothing but leggings, a sweatshirt top and a grimace wasn’t the best of ideas. Despite being home for 3 hours now I’m still shivering, so I’m going to be Mrs Sensible and get an early night.

That means no 3664855 word epic for you tonight, my lovely reader persons. Rest assured I shall be in bed thinking of new and improved ways to waffle at you tomorrow. In the meantime here’s one of my favourite photos I took ( I’ve taken ? Damn, all correct usage of grammar appears to be stored in my cold blue fingers ). I know, it’s a bit of a cop-out for a post unless you’re doing a photoblog, but in my defense I think it’s rather a good one and I would have probably have posted it anyway 😉

Patience