Archive for the ‘Bitching’ category

Please Excuse Me

February 11, 2007

Im not dead yet.

Just busy falling to pieces.

Clean up in aisle 3.

Fuckers Are Messing With Me

January 30, 2007

So welcome to my 3 new arrivals to the blog. That I know in real life. Two I helped, one found it herself (little miss smarty pants).

Thankyou Dickhead for pointing out the error in my last post. And thankyou for lying to me just to see my reaction. And please kindly tell me next time it IS your finger in my ass and you choose to “just see what youd do” when you dont admit it. You. Sick. Fucker.

Can the person who said they cried twice in one night reading my blog please not? Its not that bad, surely? No seriously, what I wrote about you was not supposed to do that. And either was the bit about dying. Im here now, lets just enjoy that, and worry about the rest later, mkay?

And as for the one who said he sat there crying like a bitch – suck it up baby and get me my coffee! Cmon, the only thing you like more than my sexy arse is my smart arse!

That new ad with Sigrid freaking thornton? Whom i hate? Your WRONG biatch. Most Smoking related illnesses are NOT slow and painful ways to die! Its freaking FAST! Didnt you read my “facts” post? Theres something thats NOT “whats good for you”. Fuck off. You Suck.

What the fuck is this new andrew okeefe show? Rich List? This has apparently been on before? Shows i dont watch much tv, hey. What I want to know is, if those 2 guys have supposedly never met before, why do they dress in tandem? And how flamingly gay is the skinny one? And how weird are his eyebrows? And does he get his make up done by bert newtons makeup artist? And if so, why? Actually, WHY is a very apt question to ask about the entire show. I dont get it. I know i didnt watch much, but still. And why is the skinny guy trying to jump n hump the fat one all the time? I didnt hink even gay men liked strange men jumping all over them. Particularly ones with bert newton makeup on. On national tv.

96.1fm i love you but that K-Sera girl fucking pisses me off. Stop talking about your “home boys” and your “peeps”. You sound like a fuckwit. And interviewing and editorialising are two COMPLETELY different things. Look one up. Id suggest looking them both up but im not sure you can spell. You make me cringe. I get gangsta speak. I like rnb, hip hop and rap. i like crunk. i know who tupac and biggie et al are (and am aware of the hilarity of using et al in that sentence). I know you do. But you sound as try hard and ridiculous as those callers “giving a shout out to all the 2142 boyz, representin it yo!” K-Sera, i may be wrong, but behind all that “frontin” and “representin” you do, you can construct a coherant sentence. You can use words that arent monosyllibic. I think you may have gone to school. Uni even. So please, your not fooling anyone. You arent black, your not from detroit, and you arent tough. In fact, when I hear you speak, i get visions of you holding something small, cute, and fluffy. And liking it.

Im in a weird place. Stuff is happening. And not happening. And my brain wont think, the fucker. Id give alot just to be able to think again. I dont like not being smart. I know many of you wouldnt believe it, but im actually clever-like.

Well.

I was.

Cancers a cunt.

and normally i dont even use that word.

on a side note, the arabic seems to suddenly be sinking in. weird.

maybe it was all those fucking UBER hot lebbos I was hanging out with on sunday morning. phwoar! i mentioned my little addiction to dickhead, and how hot those arabs are, and all he did was laugh. the little fucker didnt even offer himself up for me to satiate myself with. damn. damn his frustratingness. damn their hotness. and by that i mean GOD DAMN!!!! lol. those lips, those eyes, those muscles, those accents, that confidence……

ehem

yes mr-you-know-who-you-are, i do remember your saying. this leb constantly tells me that i dont know how hard it is being a leb, having to film it everytime he fucks, so that at the end of it he can share it with his mates…….. a copy for each defence lawyer.

Im going straight to hell

January 16, 2007

Ok, so there are already a million reasons why that statement is true, and the next few blog posts will probably only add to that, but in particular THIS time, that statement is true because i have just had a massive fit at the almighty.

Thats right.

That sadistic bastard has pushed me too far this time, and the smug motherfucker just got a hell of a freaking sermon on the reasons why he should stop being such a fucking cunt.

And i guess the previous paragraph just earned me a few extra degrees of teh hawtness that isnt the good kind once i get to freaking pergatory too. To that i say bring it on.

So my lovely little sis is recovering from her serious-traffic-snarl-inducing accident (like me she likes to see the fun side of tragedy, hense her delight at causing a couple hundred innocent people to be more than an hour late to whatever it was they wanted to get to, all thanks to her). Upon this news of improvement, many of you would be reading with a happy smile curling your lips at the corners of your mouth, thinking to yourself “im so glad shit is finally going right for Honey”

Well stop right there, oh foolish ones! The great fucktard in the sky has other plans for me and mine! MIN, my bestie, has often commented that my friendship isnt something you enjoy, so much as survive – at least if your lucky, which you usually arent around me. So far she is the only friend to last this long without some hideous misfortune befalling her. She regularly gives me a hug goodbye and tells me she hates me and isnt my friend. Just so she makes it safely to another day of hanging out with me. She often calls to invite me somewhere, and is sure to follow it with “just so long as you realise – this isnt coz i like you or nothing”. You may think this harsh, but a girls gotta protect herself!

So as im sure you can appreciate, im not having such a good time with the fact that when I rang Dickhead this morning to see if we were having coffee/whatever today, that his cousin answered his phone with the fact he had been taken to hospital in an ambulance, and in broken english answered my question of “is he ok?” with “hes bad”.

Dickhead has since heard that I called, and rang me briefly to reassure me that hes still alive, but that was 5 hours ago, and that was about all he said. I still dont know whats going on. I know Im overreacting and that he will be fine, but its just not the point. I know this is a part of his THING (his version of my cancer, in that its what makes him fucked up and sick, but it isnt cancer, nor is it my place to say what it is, beyond it being something that is a huge consideration in his world that others cant tell by looking at him or meeting him, but is there all the same and affects everything he does).

I know his THING means that he will be less than perfectly normal and well and fine sometimes. Im ok with that. Its probably going to sound selfish and stupid and ridiculous, but its how I feel. Its really messing with my head.

On one hand, Im actually really worried about him. I dont like not knowing stuff. I dont like not knowing how bad it is, if he is ok (not just physically) and i hate not being able to do anything productive to help. I worry that it could be more than a hiccup. More than just one of those things that happen. I worry that it could be a big deal.

Thats where I get selfish. Its not just for his sake that I hope its a glitch, but for mine too. Of course I dont want it to be a big deal because I dont it to be bad for him, but I also dont want it fucking up my time with him. Theres alot planned between us at the moment, and time to actually have those planned things happen is all but here. For starters, theres something I want that he promised would happen tommorrow. (no not the freaking movie, its good aurs and we will see it but im talking about something bigger and better than that). I dont have forever. Delays in me getting these things i like and want and have waited for and looked forward to are not something im going to like. And i dont want to get grumpy or upset or bitter at missing out or having to wait, because it isnt his fault, its not like he wants to be in hospital, and thats just plain childish.

Still. I cant help feeling like its a carrot im never going to get. Its not the first time this carrot has appeared. Its such a pretty carrot. My mouth is watering for it. I dont know how many more times I can watch it disappear without succumbing to the urge to bite someone.

Its also doing my head in.

I thought i had this whole thing figured out. Well, not all of it, but enough to function and live. There were steps that were going to happen. They had an order, were set out in front of me, known, acknowledged, accepted and dealt with. Prepared for.

1. I was going to have some time where I was OK. This time I would spend on planning things and making sure things were set to forget, so tht later when I wasnt able to, i wouldnt have to coz it would be done. Things like who would look after Bugalugs. Where my money would go. What hospital Id be in. How far I wanted doctors to take things. What country Id be spending eternity in, and what religion Id be sent off by.

2. I was going to have some time where I was OK/a little sick. This time I would spend on doing whatever I wanted. Having fun. Doing the things I wanted to do in life. Spending real quality time (not quantity, but QUALITY) with Bugalugs. But mostly, having fun and being happy. Thats where we are now, folks.

3. I was going to have some time where I was a bit sick, and needed spates in hospital. This time I would spend making sure Bugalugs knew all the things I wanted him to know and learn from his mum. Having what fun and happyness I could, but less energetic etc than the last point, because I wouldnt be able to handle it.

4. I was going to have some time where I was quite sick and cant do much. This time I would spend making sure those I care about know it. Making sure that I spent what time I could with people, and saying whatever needed to be said. Someone told me of how they had been spending this time for them, that they had been doing all the grieving for their life, their missed opportunities and the things that were not to be, their lost future, and grieving along with their family and close friends, helping each other grieve the loss.  He told me it helped him to deal with his demons, and face dying. It helped him feel better about knowing he was hurting those he loved, and knowing theyd be ok when he was gone. (thats a big thing to deal with you know. it needs a whole other post, but knowing your going to hurt your loved ones by dying, watching them try to cope and be strong for you, its awful) Their family recently told me how much it helped them, too. That now he has passed, the pain was easier to bear. That although it felt a little odd to not hurt as much as they thought they would, and to hurt less than at other dear ones passings, that it also felt good to be able to have said goodbye properly, truly properly, and said it to him when he could hear it. They all agreed it was better to have the chance to say goodbye and have him hear it, than to say it to a headstone.

5. I was going to have some time where Id be very sick. This time I didnt know what Id do with, and would just do what I could when i got there.

6. Then Id die.

I know that sounds morbid and weird and bizarre. I dont care. You deal with death your way, ill do it mine, mkay? When you all get there lets see you do it better. Until then shut the fuck up or just stop reading. Whatever.

This was the plan. This was how it was going to be. Planning, fun, seriousness, sickness, dead. Cant get more simple than that.

Now Dickhead could be really sick. Even if its just a bit, just enough to fuck him up for a few weeks, those few weeks could be too long for me. They could mean i miss all my fun with him.

I dont want to miss my fun with him.

I know i have Bugalugs and my friends, and they matter alot. In no way does it diminish how much I value them. But I want Dickhead too.

I want my happiness. The possibility that my happy plans are going to get messed up is not something im coping with AT ALL.

That was my plan you asshole. You fucked with my life so i had to make such a shithouse plan. Dont mess with me again. Dont mess with my man. Dont. Just fucking dont.

The plan was good. I could cope with the plan. Dickhead getting sick is not in the plan. Today has already messed with the plan. He needs to be 100% back to normal tomorrow morning, got it?

Damage to the plan is causing my world to spin. Im spiraling out of control. Such a small thing I know, but my coping with this has been such a fragile thing. Dont pull on the loose strings. I know theres alot, and they look very enticing, but just dont pull them ok?

Im only just coping with this cancer bullshit. Im holding it together, ok? Im coping. Im putting on a brave face. But it all hinges on the plan.

And now maybe the plan is wrong. Broken.

I cant do another plan. I dont have it in me. Im tired, worn out, at my absolute limit, cant tak no more.

Please excuse me folks. I think I need to cry.

No, better yet, lets get angry. Its much more Honey’s style!

Fuck this holy trinity shit. This father, son and holy spirit things is too much. The Almighty can be summed up as just THE CUNT.

Go on, god. Punish me to an eternity in hell. Itd fucking be a walk in the park compared to the shit you pull on me up here. BRING IT ON, BITCH.

Oh yeah, and Angels? You who are supposed to guard and guide us to a better life? GAME ON MOLES.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

December 14, 2006

So how do you get over a serious relationship in record time?

How do you get over a guy you really care about as soon as you can?

Well, quite simply, you go and shag a Random. Fuck him stupid. Take out all your stress and anger and hurt and frustration and everything.

But what the fuck do you do when your sucking his cock and all you can do is think of your man and wish it was him?

You stop sucking and tell the random to “fuck me NOW, biatch”.

But what do you do when it just feels wrong, and all you want is your dickhead?

You send the Random home.

And when things with your dickhead just get worse and worse no matter how hard you try?

You get yourself seriously smattered with a bottle of bourbon and find a Better Endowed Random.

What do you do when you find yourself still thinking of your Dickhead whilst sucking off the Better Endowed Random?

Thats right, you tell him to fuck you. Only this time, you use every bit of mental power you have and focus solely on the physicality of what your doing. You praise yourself for accepting the advances of the nicely sized one, and silently say a thankyou to the sex gods for having him be skilled as well. You count your blessings that he is sensitive to your situation, and are grateful when he suggests a different position, saying things guaranteed to take your mind off your worries. You appreciate that he notices and cares that you could be enjoying yourself more, and submerse yourself when he stops talking to calm your worries and uses his mouth in a more effective form of distraction. You submit to his efforts, and let the orgasms take control. You let your physical desires overtake your mental and emotional ones. After all, being face down, ass up in a frenzy of exertion where both participants have submitted to their bodies most primal desires makes it hard to think!

I admit it. The sex was fucking good. So good I was able to immerse myself in it entirely until towards the end of round four, where, sweating profusely and utterly, totally, and completely spent, I basically collapsed on the bed underneath the Better Endowed Random. It took him about 45 seconds to pause and laugh. “Your completely wasted arent you Honey?” His enquiry was ment with a tired “uhuh”. He laughed, collapsed on top of me, tiny kisses and licks over the back of my neck and shoulders. “Thank god, Hon. I dont think I could go another minute. I dont have it in me to make you come again, let alone me!”

At least I slept well that night. But the first thought when I woke up was of Dickhead again.

So what do you do when you dont know what the fuck to do and you cant stop wishing your Dickhead would call to talk instead of lash out, make demands and make you feel like its all your fault?

Shag a Random Who Makes You Laugh, and try to relax and let the answers come by themselves.

But what do you do when that Random Who Makes You Laugh tells you stories of your Dickhead? When that Random not only has nothing to gain by telling you a lie, and doesnt even realise at first that your push for details isnt merely polite curiosity, but rather an urgent need to confirm that the person of whom the Random Who Makes You Laugh speaks is the very same Dickhead? HER Dickhead? When he gives you a piece of information that feels like a kick in the guts? That you cannot bring yourself to believe, yet has too many points that cannot be ignored?

You dont find much to laugh about with the Random Who Makes You Laugh. Not anymore.

Asking Your Help

October 17, 2006

So its probably not smart asking teh interwebs for help, but if some retard can research how to stick his cock up a girls arse, Im sure that someone out there can help me with a suggestion or two to my slightly less anal problem. Russell Allen, I guess that counts you out.

So Dickhead finally mesaged me last night after Id gone to bed, completely oblivious to the shittyness he had caused. Now I know his brothers here, I know hes busy, but surely he could find 2 minutes to talk to his woman? So when he messaged me (being still involved in other stuff) as if nothing was wrong, and woke me up, I wasnt in the best mood. (lets not forget the drugs im on that make me a psycho moody lunatic).

Now, Im not one to be angry at people and shut up about it. It makes me feel ill to hold that shit in. I dont bitch behind your back, I tell you that I have an issue. It takes a bit to piss me off, annoyance is not worth bitching about, but when you repeatedly annoy me, THAT makes me angry too. So Dickhead of course manages this fairly frequently, poor bastard. The thing is, because Im not seeing him at the moment, and because im not even talking to him as much right now, the little time we DO get on the fone seems to be taken up with me being pissed off and yelling at him. Hardly the behavious thats going to inspire him to make more talk time, huh?

So my question is this:

How do I tell him he has made me upset or angry, so that I dont feel that im being walked over and disrespected, whilst still managing to enjoy the time we have?

Because I hate using the time we have to argue, and feeling bad towards him, when we could be laughing and joking and having fun. Im having a hard time balancing the good stuff that I want to have, and the bad stuff I have to have.

And yes, person who knows who he is, I do know that Dickhead’s job is to make me happy – end of story, and that he should just stop being a fucktard to me, but HES A MAN, just like you, and therefore is STUPID. I know that if hed just stop pissing me off everything would be so much easier and better, but, like I said, HES A MAN. Its just not genetically possible!

The Countdown

ETA on last treatment:     0+ sleeps

Bugalugs’ birthday:            6 sleeps

End of ramadan:                 8 sleeps

Hugs from dickhead:          9+ sleeps*

*Dickhead reckons I have to give him a couple of extra days before I get to see him because of all his commitments to end-of-fasting celebrations. While I can see youd want to celebrate that, why isnt one of those celebrations the fact that he can get his freak on?? Id never make a good muslim, huh?

Ok, But What About Today?

October 16, 2006

So this morning I woke up grumpy. Thanks to Dickhead. sigh. And although a friend of mine was coming down from Katoomba to see me, one I hadnt seen in quite a while, and I was looking forward to it, the visit was tarnished before it even happened, because one of the things we were going to be doing while she was down here was designing his website, and true to form, Dickhead had left everyhting to the last minute, and had run out of time to go over everything before she got here. So it was all down to me. Sure, great, fine, its not like I have anything else to worry about, is it?

Add to that the fact that the doctors were just teasing me, and it seems tomorrow wont be the last day of their torture after all. sigh. fuckers. I wanna go home.

My gf came down and we had a great visit. She stayed much longer than she planned, and we giggled so much my beepy machine went of twice. Im talking about the beepy machine that makes the nurses come running from everywhere when it goes off coz they understand beep-speak, and its saying “hurry up you dumb slut, shes gunna die”. Either they think im just too cute to die yet, or they get just as pissed off with its shrill interruptions to their sleep as I do, because they drop what their doing and hustle, let me tell ya!

My afternoon was punctuated with conversations with medical proffessionals that I really didnt want to hear. My evening was consumed with conversations about tomorrows funeral that I really dont want to attend, and dont know if Id even be allowed to in my current condition. And Bugalugs didnt come up to see his mummy. Aparently playing in his friends new cubby house was much more fun. So I felt and feel like crap.

But whats making me feel worse, is Dickhead and his being too busy for me. There was a half conversation this morning whilst he was at the airport collecting his brother whos here fore the next couple of days, which means im hardly going to hear from him. One where he promised me something that made me really happy. It was something I took to be a big thing, a good thing. And it influenced a decision Ive been pondering for a while now. A decision about something Dickhead has been asking me to make. Wanting me to make. And Ive been getting close to saying yes. And its nothing to do with his business, but I guess that might be affected by it. But just as I was getting closer to agreeing to what he had asked me to, he said something that made me baulk. Big time.

Bugalugs is my life. Fact. Dickhead knows this, and never expects anything less. He would be rather dissappointed in me I think if I even thought about that not being the case. I also have a past that affects how I am now. Fact. Dickhead knows this, but also wants me to get over it. I have a picture of where I want to be this time next year, and further in the future (date yet to be decided). I dont want to make the same mistakes Ive made before. (new ones are so much more exciting). I dont want to get into things I can see a problem with straight up. I also have things that I want RIGHT NOW.

What he said this morning made me slam my brakes on. It was a surprise. I dont know if how I first took it is the stance I will continue to take. I dont know if I took it the way he meant it. Im quite sure he thought it was an innocuous little comment. Well, not to me. To me it raised a HUGE RED FLAG. I had to dip out of our talk time to collect my thoughts (and my stomach from where it had dropped to the floor). He worried, and wanted to know what was wrong, why his comment had made me change so suddenly, why I was acting differently. I couldnt talk. I told him I would later.

Problem is, Im going to bed now, and later still isnt here.

I just……

October 10, 2006

wrote a whole heap that was really REALLY good.

and then i fucking deleted it by accident.

im really hating the world right now