Screaming . . .

Can you hear me?
Its been one of those weeks. You know the ones, where you want to crawl into a warm safe place put a pillow over your head, turn off all phones, in fact all technological devices, insert an IV of any mind numbing fluid and ignore reality until its over. . .

I know that there are millions around that will have had a worse week but this is my blog and dammit I feel like hosting a pity party. . . I do apologise though, feel free to leave and come back when I have lost this shitty outlook on life.

So. . . (Ranting commences). A fellow manager at the bar/restaurant where I work pour my sweat, blood and tears into has had his employment contract terminated due to "serious misconduct" . . . read he is a lying, slimy, lowlife who has been caught with his hands in the till. Prick. I know hate is a useless emotion that is more effort than its worth, but I'm there, I HATE him, in fact I'm seriously considering organising a public stoning. It isn't 'my' business, I have no invested interest in the place, BUT, I have been there since before we opened, I am loyal (possibly too much) to the place, I care about GP's, wage costs, my fellow staff, the owners and the business itself. This thieving low-life has been employed since early in the year, and we think has probably been 'supplementing' his pay since about then. We caught him red handed, after many phone calls, late night meetings, clandestine security measures, and sleepless nights and yet the little chocknob still is not admitting the full extent of his dishonesty. . . even since we have learnt that he has huge debts and a gambling problem. Boofarkenhooo, I have huge debts, and I don't gamble or steal to deal with them. . . I drink.

Anybottleofwine work has been stressful, I had to work for a couple of days with the fallengoldenboy and pretend I didn't want to punch him in the face. The management and staff are all feeling very abused, sad, angry and some of us a little violent.

In the middle of all this I learnt that one of the guys from The Ex's rugby team passed away suddenly. Homer was the absolute salt of the earth, a true friend, loving father and husband. His funeral was testament to how he touched so many lives, and brought many different groups of people together. There was standing room only, tears flowing freely and many touching tribute, including one from his incredibly brave 9 year old daughter which almost brought me to my knees. I didn't know Homer that well, only really from the sidelines of the rugby field and the clubroom's afterwards, but I liked what I knew. I expected to feel sad and cry at the funeral (I am a rent-a-tear) but I expected to also be mainly sad for everyone else that has died in my life, his family and friends, but only in an abstracted, not a close friend way. Instead I realised I will miss him, even on the periphery of my life, Homer, had impacted in a way I hadn't comprehended.

There are some people that come into our lives, leave footprints on our hearts and we are never the same again. Rest In Peace Homer, may you have a rod or rifle in one hand a beer in the other and be standing with loved ones on the big rugby field in the sky.

So all in all this week has sucked. I want to delete it off my hard drive of life and pretend it never happened.

On the upside The Ex (hi!) and I confused his former rugby team and friends by going to the funeral and after match function together, generally supporting each other and getting on really well! It is almost incomprehensible to most how well we get along - although before you think it not in a getting back together way or going back for ex sex way!!. . . if I wasn't living it I wouldn't believe it myself, I've said it before - I'm blessed.

Remembering . . .

OMB 1912-2007 . . .

As another year rolls around marking my Grandma's death, I am filled with memories, some happy, some sad, all that make me realise how much I miss her. She was the absolute matriarch of our family, stoic, full of 'airs and graces' yet she could (and would) swear like a trooper, and is to this day the only person I know who can say f**k sounding like the queen mother. This post is a tribute to her, although I'm sure she is much more interested in the bottomless G&T she got at the pearly gates than looking at heavenly Internets . . .

I remember sitting (wriggling like a wrigglything) on Grandma's knee while she got her hair washed and 'set' on Friday mornings at 9am, insisting that she read me the book "things that go bump in the night".... every Friday I stayed in the holidays from age about 3 onwards. In fact I was about 16 when the book finally had been removed from the toy box... I wish she'd read it to me now.

I remember doing yoga with her in the mornings, her in her girdle me in my pj's, and looking back she was remarkably limber for an 'older lady'. I especially loved the move where we held our knees and 'rocked on our spines' kind of like a cast sheep or turtle gone belly up... I wish I could tell her how impressed I was.

I remember Grandma, striding into the pool every morning at the crack of dawn (sometimes almost cracking ice on the surface) to do her 24 lengths... always in her bathing cap (sometimes only in her bathing cap)... sometimes with stray frogs along side her as well. I swam in the mornings with her but only until I was about 5 and then the morning cartoons were a stronger attraction... I wish I could swim more lengths next to her.

I remember fighting with Grandma, big nasty horrible full blown rows. She and I were so alike in so many ways that we butted heads relatively *cough* often. I have stormed off in tears more times than I should of. She really knew how to push my buttons as well, and would do so at any opportunity (with a sly wink to whoever else was there), causing me to clam up, chew my lip, and try not to cry...I wish she would wind me up and drive me crazy one more time.

I remember Grandma full off opposites and contradictions. She was tough as nails and had the stiffest upper lip ever and yet loved to hug us, especially towards the end. Grandma spoke the queens English... with liberal dashings of profanities that could have made a mob member blush. She looked like a Grandma, white/grey hair, and a lived in skin, and yet shopped with style and class both for herself and for the family, she wouldn't be seen in pants especially in her later years (my entire lifetime) and looked glamorous even doing the gardening. Grandma clutched the steering wheel of her jeep/car as if she was terrified it was going to take off on her... yet she drove in the middle of the road at top speed with no regard for other motorists (after all she'd been on the road since before they were born)... I want to hear her hurl abuse at someone again.

I remember Grandma's infectious laugh and wonderful (sometimes dirty) sense of humor. When Grandma got the giggles - which she did frequently - it was contagious, everyone laughed with her. Her laughing fits exasperated my Grandfather, especially when she'd laugh so much she'd wet herself, which then just made her laugh more, never showing a hint of embarrassment... I want to laugh with her again.

I remember Grandma's crelbow. It was the best most comforting crelbow ever, giving my infant self much comfort... I want to roll her crelbow skin again.

I remember my last weekend with Grandma, our last snuggle lying in her bed with her, our last conversations, I remember seeing my Grandma look frail and small, I remember her clutching my hand, I remember her listening to her transistor radio in the middle of the night, I remember never wanting to say goodbye, struggling to say I love you in person for the last time, I remember my photo propped up on her bedside lamp so I could watch over her when I left, I remember that walk down the hall being the longest and most painful walk, I remember she loved me...

Most of all I want to keep remembering her, understanding her strengths, her weaknesses, the things that brought her joy. I want her strength to be part of me. I want her to know, even though I was a Grandpa's little girl through and through, there will always be a part of me that only Grandma will understand. I want to thank her, she impacted upon my life in so many ways, some big, some small, all treasured.

Double Drabbling . . .

At Peter's blog that I have been reading devouring he is still holding a contest, a Drabble contest no less. I'm excited, two of my favourite things together... contests and writing oh my!

I hinted there might have been another dabble up my sleeve in my first entry... and this one fell out later on ... enjoy, or not, but I enjoyed dabbling it so there.

Devil in Disguise
I taunt you
With all my cruel jokes
I play deep inside
...your mind
One minute
I tell you that I love you
The next breath I tell you that I lied
I bring you gifts
And tokens from my heart
I weave our futures so we’ll never be apart
I crush your heart beneath my boot
Yet the tears that are welling inside I hide
I’m a devil with a conscience
In you I do confide
You tell me I’m your angel
You tell me to decide
But I’m a fallen angel
A devil in disguise

Drabbling . . .

At Peter's blog that I have been reading devouring he is holding a contest, a Drabble contest no less. I'm excited, two of my favourite things together... contests and writing oh my!

Anyrandomdrabbler.... here goes entry number one (possibly of one, however there may be more be more drabbles up my sleve)...

As I sit and watch the sunset sinking in the sky
All my thoughts drift back to you
Although I can’t think why
You cheated and you hurt me with all those things you said
I believed you as you whispered you love me
Apparently it was it all in my head
Someday I will forgive you and time will heal my heart
Although I thought we’d be together
And that we’d never be apart
So as I watch the last rays sinking upon the tranquil sea
I’ll lift my head and show you
Just how strong I can be

Playing with fire . . .

I'm bad, but it feels so bloody good. I've been flirting my little arse off with a man who I shouldn't be flirting with . . .
But he flirts too so it's not really so bad huh.

Anyflirthag its all good because I'm only going to end up hurting myself in the long run and what are hopes and dreams for if not for trampling in the dirt and destroying??

On a positive note I'm scarily excited about returning to work tomorrow - I still don't feel 100% but I have been working on my arse groove on the couch for well to long now, I'm worried about bedsores couchsores.

I guess its sad but work is largely how I define myself; I'm good at the two jobs I do (completely different career fields) and miss working with people and fake smiling at crap jokes and customers, hell I even miss being talked to like I'm a lower than the germs on the dogshit stuck to your shoe... Ahhh it'll be good to be back. Also sick to death of people telling me to look after myself, yes I was a dumbshit for getting sick but it wasn't entirely my fault, just plain old fashioned bad luck...

Blah blah blah eat healthy, get some sleep, blah blah have you taking your meds, blah blah bladdy farken blah!

Had a bollywood party for Loo's Dads 60th on the weekend which was almost as awesome as it could be, the only thing that would have made it better would be if Loo had got her crazy butt back from the bigwideworld and come home for it but no... instead I had organised a surprise video birthday message from her for her Pa which we played on the big screen. Was awesome seeing the looks on her parentals faces as they watched it, however, being the massive sook I am I bloody cried sobbed like a small child lost in the supermarket AND I had already watched it about 40trillion times to harden up... tear duct fail!

Was a great night, a perfect re-entry for me into civilisation, and wearing sparkly jingly clothes that make you sound like a windchime in a cyclone with pretty bindi's and sparkling eyelashes rocked... In fact when I grow up I want to be indian now.