Jen’s into the Pitts

Saw this story on an Australia newspaper site. At first I thought, “That’s great. Jennifer’s moved on and she’s found someone”, then I read the story and to my horror, saw the photograph.

Who else thinks he looks a lot like Brad Pitt?

Yo, keepin’ it real…

I’ve been with Glen for about six years. That’s a fairly long time. That’s long enough to really know that person and to have routine, to exist together. There’s really no surprises at this point of the relationship, so you feel comfortable and relaxed.

This should be the case for inlaws and inherited relatives. Alas, it is not. They don’t have a clue who I really am and they don’t know my tastes in things. This results in birthday and Christmases being very disappointing and demoralising.

I’m continually starring in a recuring role on Pleasantville. We all know the movie. It’s set in picture-perfect-nobody-has-any-real-problems land. We’re all pleasant and polite. No one has a mean thing to say about the other and we put on a persona when in the presence of such company.

This is hard for me. I consider myself to be a very real person. To say it like it is. I wasn’t blessed with the gene of subtly. I don’t know what that word means. I grew up in a very relaxed family which consisted of me and my mother. The lines of parent and child were blurred to become friends and accomplices in life. It was how it had to be. The tap needed fixing, we were both there fixing it. Dinner had to be made, we were both there peeling the potatoes and cleaning up. Ironing and washing had to be done, we both endured it.

More to the point, if there were issues, she told me off and I had my say (to a small point). We sorted it out. We kept it real.

Suddenly, I am thrust into another world where such relationships were never formed. Where affection towards each other wasn’t as paramount as it was in my family. That is not to say it wasn’t there, because I am sure it was. But the degree to which you say I love you etc is not as present. In this new world, people do not say what they think, they keep it to themselves. If you have an opinion that others do not concur with and the situation presses enough buttons, you are told to shut up - like a small child that you were 20 years ago.

I don’t want to disparage this family, because for all the things I whinge about, the produced the man I am spending the rest of my life with. The man who has so much love to give, there is never enough time to receive it. He is perfect, despite the issues that surround us today.

Having said that, it has been refreshing for my partner and his sister to get an ‘outsider’s’ take on the situation. To give an objective appraisal of the situation. To say that for others, this is not a normal family dynamic. People do talk back, they do express discontent and annoyance to each other and the lines of parent/child become blurred as the child becomes an adult and the parent just becomes another adult. Children at the age of almost 40 are not told to ‘do be quiet’ as they were when they were 10. They aren’t silenced because the parent has ordered it. The dynamics are supposed to changed. We are allowed to question our parents. It’s ok.

So, this family dynamic has become a bit of an issue for me and for my partner and his sister. It’s been a stressful week and I feel as if there is great expectations placed on me to sort it out, to bite the bullet.

Life is so much simpler when you pretend in your everyday life that no one but you and your partner exist. It is very selfish, but less complicated.

Really sick of

fucking coughing.

Have been coughing since February.

Doctor tells me without much testing (a lung capacity test) that I have a viral cough and she doesn’t know when it will go away.

Have been in bed for two hours and have woken myself up because of a nightmare, which turned into a coughing fit that has gone on for the last 30 minutes.

Why does viral always equate to - don’t want to give you any drugs for it?

Fucken sick of it. Cough means always tired, no sex, can’t sleep, sore throat, cough lollies, cough medicine, tissues, fatigued back, depression and futility.

I can deal with anything as long as there is a visible end.

This sick feeling in the pit of my stomach

I read this news article today and I have been forever scarred. I just can’t help but feel that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It upsets me so much. Words fail me.

All I can ask is what type of person does it take to do something like this? What sort of person do they live to be? How do they live with themselves? Do they think about it? Do they feel regret? Do they realise?

I’m too disturbed to say anything else. Truly, I could cry.

Yesterday was just one of those days when I wished I hadn’t got out of bed.

I walked out of work yesterday afternoon, excited about the impending day off work in lieu of Anzac Day, jumped on my bike, turned the key and pressed the button. AND. NOTHING!

The bike had no juice in it. Nothing WHAT SO EVER!! It was dead. Done. Dusted. Nada! Nil! Zilch!

I called Glen in a panic. He’d been to the dentist earlier in the day and had a numb and impending sore mouth. In the end, after about an hour of ringing around to the various tow truck and bike shop operators who didn’t give a crap, we decided to call the RACV. That in itself was a debacle as my scooter was not listed in our member care. So, Glen had to pay $100 or whatever to get the bike listed and then RACV tells him that they won’t provide roadside assistance, but they will tow! Yay for me.  Finally, the tow truck operator arrived at about 7.30pm and tolerating a little grumpiness, I helped him load the bike onto the rather large flatbed truck. I arrived home around 8.30pm and we hauled the bike into the garage and collapsed inside the house.

I later discovered that I stupidly left the bike on Park. PARK! How does a freakin’ bike have a park switch on the ignition and why does one need it?! Apparently in park, the lights are left on park and the battery is subsequently drained of all life. I feel stupid. How does one not realise that there’s a park switch on her bike? How does one own the bike since November and avoid this drama until now?!

I still can’t believe how dense I was. Today, of course the bike’s battery has been charged and my baby is back to normal. Except, that during the towing, the tow truck driver had to tiedown my bike which meant applying pressure to plastic parts of the bike. As a result, the fuel cap cover has been damaged and I’ll probably need to replace it.

I should probably read the manual. That would be a good idea.

Anyway, it could be worse, right? Right.

Something I learnt at university has really been ringing true for me the last few days. It was within my Communications courses that I learnt about Senders, Receivers and Messages.

You see, the Sender can send the intended Message, but this does not necessarily mean that the Receiver receives the intended message in the intended format. I know, confusing, but think about it. Sometimes the message gets skewed - there might be noise that changes the meaning of the message, or the Receiver might receive the Message with preconceived ideas or life experience that prevents them from receiving the Message in its intended form.

Thanks for your comments to my last post. It’s good to know people are reading. Well, at least dropping by. But you know, I wasn’t criticising anyone’s decision on the matter. It was a rant about annoying people at both work and in my personal life who make decisions on serious matters based on narrow-minded and ill-informed opinions and I find that sort of behaviour very frustrating.

I don’t generally make a practice of criticising the choices people make, so long as they are well-thought out decisions based on their own research and experience. Not based on the scare mongering tactics they choose to listen to, or the experience of one person amongst a world of millions.

I’ve learnt a lot in the process. Sometimes it’s just better to rant and not seek feedback and no matter how you intend the receiver to receive the message, sometimes it just might not make it out the other end in the same format. Kinda like Chinese Whispers, right?

Get over it

Seriously, I’m getting a little sick and tired of hearing people carrying on about the influenza immunisation shot that is being given this year.

Our work organisation has offered to give it to us for free this year. This promotes a healthy work environment and the organisation tries to ensure that people come to work - because they aren’t sick with the flu!

So, when I hear ill-informed people deliberating about the merits of the flu shot, I get a bit jack of it.

For crying out loud, it’s a dead vaccination! Dead! That means you AREN’T getting injected with a live influenza virus which means you only DISPLAY the symptoms, you don’t actually get them! It can last a few hours, or 24hours. Not DAYS, WEEKS like the real virus.

And for those who carry on about how they got the shot last year and they still got the flu. Bloody get over yourselves! The flu shot only covers the super dangerous, put-you-in-hospital-you-could-die flus. Not the little ones that keep you in bed for days, moaning and carrying on about how sick you are! Seriously! Just be happy that you didn’t get a worse version like the one YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN IMMUNISED FOR IF YOU HAD BLOODY JUST SHUT UP AND GONE TO GET A FREE SHOT!

And let’s not forget the fact that this flu shot takes up to two weeks to become effective - anything inside that period of time is just your dumb luck! Get over it.

And just remember one last thing. If your employer offers you a flu vaccination for free and you don’t have a legit excuse, such as being pregnant or allergic to the ingredients in the shot, like eggs and certain antibiotics, then remember this - your employer is not going to be happy to know that you opted not to get the shot and chose to become sick!

In this instance, the word FREE should not raise your suspicion!

Vent over. Apologies for the rant, but I’ve had enough of hearing ill-informed people carry on like it’s a government conspiracy. Seriously. Be concerned about the real issues like global warming and the injustice of the war in Iraq! Grrr.

When being female truly sucks…

This post isn’t for the fainted-hearted, or for men, so please bugger off if you don’t wish to be traumatised by feminine discussions.

Last week, whilst getting my blood pressure checked, I was subjected to the feminine pleasures of pap smears. I hate them and pleased that she did not mention it before she took my blood pressure.

So, I was subjected to the process which was pretty quick and painless. She asked for my mobile number to contact me if there were any issues, otherwise i could call today to get my results.

I didn’t need to call. She called me and left a message.

I had a feeling of dread as I began to listen to her message, remembering her saying that she’d call if there were issues. Her message said that I’d have to repeat the pap smear as there was too much inflammation and the cervical cells could not be detected.

Bah humbug. Phooey and shit.

I called her back. There was nothing to be concerned about, it was fairly common, but bugger it, I have to get another done in a couple of months. Fucken ace!

I “look forward” to these things every two years, but now I have to havce two in two years? No fair!!

The five people you meet in…

…the train.

I swear, the scooter cannot come home with me a moment too soon. I have been riding a scooter for the past three years. I have ridden the train probably no more than 10 times during that time.

During the last month (it feels like longer!) I have witness the following:

Juveniles

This breed is odd. They are either aloof, or you can’t shut them up and they hold the entire carriage to ransom. The noisy ones scream at the top of their lungs, create a scene and when they alight from the train, the entire carriage breathes a discernable sigh of relief.

The other day I walked to the platform in the city to wait for my train when I witness four girls. Two were quite chubby and the other two seemed reasonably small and sedate. When I witnessed the two chubby girls initially, they were hugging, as friends can sometimes do. When I looked up again from my book (still waiting for the train) they were kissing. and this wasn’t normal, romantic kissing. This was exhibition, sucking face like there was no tomorrow. It was quite disgusting. You see, normally I would find lesbians to be perfectly acceptable, and I find it sweet and romantic to witness their intimacy. This was not intimate or nice to watch. It was revolting. It looked unnatural and in hindsight, it looked like to try-hard, socialising unacceptable teenage girls trying very hard to find the intimacy they craved from the world, in each other. Do you know what I am talking about? It looked desperate and sad. Halfway through the journey, they were separated - of course, with a huge fanfare.

Bike Riders

I particularly hate this breed. The type who get onto peak hour, jammed packed trains and sprawl their bike everywhere, blocking exits, seats and prime standing room. This shits me and to me, defeats the purpose of having a bike if they are riding the trains! Does anyone else find this particularly irritating?

Inconsiderate Prats

The ones who are only out for themselves, who lean against the poles in the train so they can read their precious books, whilst others around them stumble and almost fall because they arent able to hold onto the poles. This shits me. You can fit at least three people to a pole, whereas one person will lean against it and deny the rest a chance to be comfortable. I love many elements of the city, but I dont love the anonymity and rudeness it affords people. The ones who barge their way out of the train without first letting you go through. The ones who push past you at the ticket validating machine so they can get the curb 5 seconds before you. And the ones who bash past you with their bags to walk through the train. I saw one of those this week. Admittedly, the guy deserved it, but the woman had this superior look about her which screamed “Prahran/Toorak” about her. Those from Melbourne and surrounds will know what I mean.

Gropers

Friday afternoon, I was happily reading my book (whose author I forget) when this young couple in their late teens or early 20s came on board and stood beside me. They were fine at first, kissing and cuddling at first until halfway through the ride, they got a bit hot and heavy. First, it was her groping her crotch, then it was him kissing her cleavage - and believe me, she was wearing a top which left NOTHING to the imagination! Any lower cut and she would have been falling out of her shirt! Upon leaving the train, I left them in their most revealing position - she was sitting on him, rubbing herself on him. It was soft pron at its best.

Offensive body odours and manners

Those who sniff, snot and drip their way through the train ride without so much as a sleeve to wipe their mucous encrusted noses! Those who cough, splutter and hurk their phlegm without any consideration to the rest of us who can’t block out their grotesque habits, no matter how loud they pump their ipods! The ones who smell like an athlete’s crotch and gym socks, all at once before it hits 9am. And the ones who yawn without consideration to the rest of the population who must inhale their disgusting morning breath!

A tale of two blogs…

Me thinks that I might take Sonnet’s advice, at least for a while, and run two blogs in tandem. However, the question which comes of this is who do I allow to read the private blog and who do I offend by not allowing them?

It’s a tough one. I know only a handful of people who read this blog and in the main, I dont mind them reading the juicy gossipy stuff, so if you get an email, you know you are in the ‘IN’ crowd.

And if you think you deserve to be on the ‘IN’ crowd list, leave a comment and I shall ponder your case!