Finding you are not alone ….. in the toilet …. whilst you go off script



I say “fuck” a lot — yes, I realise the big surprise that statement garnered.

I find it is one of those words that beautifully moulds itself around nearly every situation.

It works when you are happy “Fuck look at that wow!!”

It works when you are surprised “Where the fuck did you come from?”

It works when you a find the elusive remove “Why the fuck were you there —- ?”

It works when you are looking at some kid having a total collapse and it’s not your kid “Not my fucking monkeys people, not my fucking monkeys!”

And of course it comes into it’s own when you are really angry.

I was really angry yesterday — like burst into tears angry.  That is a special kind of angry.  It’s the kind where there are actually just not enough fucks to fit into a sentence.  And I might need a brown bag to breath in because I am going to over fucking stimulate myself.

I start using deviations “fuck’tard” “fucker” “you fuck” and so on.

I will confess it does take away a little from the magic of the word “fuck” but there are days when my fuck mug just overflows and everything just goes to shit.  I normal manage to get through an entire day with a semblance of what appears like normality.

It is actually raging crazy — but you add enough layers of margarine to anything and it will be shiny and yellow.  And no one wants to touch it.

Today I woke up angry — I tried to give myself a little “just be happy and do not kill anyone and you will get through the day” — but I realised fairly quickly I am not really a mantra sort of gal.

I have been in interviews all day — I have what feels like a million messages to read through, a few dozen call messages to return and I am at that point where I have nothing left to give.  I am tapped out.  I need a lie down — but I know I get to repeat this shit tomorrow, similar script, and that exhausts me to the freaking bone.

I got up a  little while ago to go the bathroom — its a public bathroom.  I always leave going to the bathroom to the part where I am just about to pee in my pants, or the poo is already on it’s way out.  And who said I wasn’t a thrill seeker???

I went in, assumed I was by myself.  And I started a conversation with myself.

That got more heated.  With “fucks” just being more liberal than say the situation might have called for.  The thing with talking to yourself is you rile yourself up pretty quickly — because no matter how lunatic your statement is from Voice #1, Voice #2 will just step it up to the insane level — like yeah, let’s go burn that mother fucker.  Or something like that.

I guess all our inner voices operate differently.

I was on a roll, and there is just no way you can hold a cowboy back when it’s crunch time.

I flushed and continued my little monologue — peppered —- like giant fucking black pepper grinder peppered – – with fucks and “you fuck” and so on.

I was on the way to wash my hands —- not breaking stride with my little fuck fest.

I needed a real venting moment and I was using the alone time in this bathroom to just lose what ever decorum I might have started the day with.

I was in full swing — like warming up for the dismount of the beam when I heard a noise ….. and realised that somewhere in this I was not alone.  There are only two stalls — not much place to hide.

Some poor woman was trapped in the toilet as I was going off my rocker.  No doubt she was figuring if she just sat there quietly and long enough, then I would go away and she could come out.  And maybe live.

Yes, it is a little awkward when you realise you are not alone.

Of course my over active imagination now sees every set of eyes staring at me going “bitch, I would have said the same thing…”

Yeah I know.  Fuck.

The one about the chicken sexer …..



This is me sitting with a friend of mine having a chat.

The story does not really need any background – it works on it’s own.

But to give it context, she has this ex-husband who is always resigning to go and do things that are “great” but don’t guarantee an income.  They usually have the word “volunteer” in the title.

She on the other hand is working a heavily pressurized position, trying to recover from a financial shit storm which was not her creation, and is still doing work after her son is in bed.  To try and make enough money to pay rent, buy one ply toilet paper and maybe boil some water.

I am not one to step in the way of anyone’s dreams to be what ever the hell they want.  The problem is that his constant search for his dreams, means she is having to financially, emotionally and physically carrying the bucket for their son.

I was trying to explain to her what if she did what he does.  Decides to resign and pursue “her dream job” and drop their son off with him from 1 December.  From then on he would need to provide everything, and maintain a job and so on.  Possibly it would assist him to learn to dig in an endure a kak job sometimes, because that is what pays the bills.

I wanted to use an example of a dream career (but slightly ludicrous) which she could suggest to him.  I seriously came up with : ballerina, a horse urine tester and a chicken sexer.

I have no idea why any of those would be dream jobs and why I could not be normal and think of normal dream jobs.  I wanted to parody the conversation she would have with her ex-husband, so this is how this started:-

Me: Tell him you want to be a chicken sexer.

Her: What’s a chicken sexer?

Me: The person who checks the sex of the chicks. If the chick is a cock they usually snap the neck.

Her: ……

Me: Because you can’t eat cocks. They keep the hens.

Her: What do you mean you can’t eat cock{s} ….. (said with a very worried and concerned tone in her voice …. like very concerned}

Me: ……

Her: …… (realizing what she is saying)

Result: Me and her actually laughing to the point where we are falling off the couch screaming with laughter.

Love those Moments …. # 2

Love those Moments : Look at me doing something a second time when I thought there was only going to be one of these.

Love those Moments …. # 1

Love those Moments  : Not sure I will have many of these in me, so do not hold your breath.

This is number 1 of the series.

There may only be one, so this may be a very short series.  Just warning you.