The Spanish Inquisition

The Squeeze’s bout of ‘manning up’ over the tent has been interesting to watch, in a “why can’t he just bitch slap that cow off a chair” kind of way.

Personally, I don’t see the difficulty in standing up for myself.  I have said previously (on several occasions), if a friend had grabbed the tent from Kid 1 and then refused to give it back; not only refusing to give it back, but lying about it and sending you off on wild goose chases to the school to retrieve it; and then instructing your kids to lie about it – would you stand for that?”  The answer is of course, no; he wouldn’t.

And he has stood his ground, at least to the point where he has told the Harridan “okay; if you want the tent so badly, it’s yours.  Except you are paying for it and I will be deducting what I consider is a fair price, out of maintenance.” (Good move, of course the price was far from fair)  And let’s face it, it has taken a year to get to that place in time.

Of course I can almost guarantee that she wouldn’t conceive of the idea that he would actually do it.  He got no reply to his communiqué re “withholding funds”.  He never gets a reply when it is something that she doesn’t like.  In short, I picture her sitting on the floor, hands over her ears singing “la la la” loudly in an attempt to drown out the words.  She has this nifty knack of only hearing what she wants to hear; possibly part of her madness.

So I have enjoyed watching him acquire a bit of mettle about him although I’ve seen bravado on previous threats wilt in the wind; so I’m not celebrating just yet.

And I am watchful.  It’s not enough to withhold the funds for a week or two and then slink back into net banking and transfer the rest of the funds to her like a cowardly lion (if I only had a heart…)  Watchful because I always knew that she couldn’t leave it there…  Not a chance; how dare he grow a spine! 

So last night, I ask “did you hear from the Harridan?”

I’m not sure why I have to ask frankly.  It has been the topic of scores of conversations between us; he knows damned well I’m waiting to see just what will happen and what the threat will be this time.  But no; his preference is to make me feel like I’m a member of the Spanish Inquisition – so I have to drag it out of him, one bloody word at a time.

Yes.  She had called yesterday to tell him he needed to pay the rest of the maintenance, because that is completely separate to the tent and he can’t do that.  He replied with mentioning the fact that he had told her that would be the price of the tent and it is done and over with.  (What a pity she doesn’t call when I’m there because I’d have loved to have heard that conversation.)

Then she starts the “you can’t do that; if you don’t pay I’ll have to take action”.  I can’t resist putting in “pity you didn’t tell her that if I had of had my way, I’d have called the police and reported it stolen” – which is after all, exactly what it was, stolen.

Then it is “just pay it and we’ll discuss the tent when I get home.”  Yeah, why don’t we try that?  Ummm what the hell does she think all of those conversations re the tent up until this point have been about?

As for the threats..  Yeah, go for it.  Please go for it.  I’m tipping if she starts “action” she will find herself far from better off; especially when the tax department start going through her records only to discover that her earnings are much higher than reported due to the rent she receives.

As for the Moodle, I will have to keep my eye on him to make sure he sticks to his guns…

Homeless Guy

A homeless guy has moved into my house.

I came home tonight and this is what was beside my bed on the Squeeze’s side.  I’m guilty in that it has been building and I haven't stabbed him; but Hell!!!!  It’s starting to look like ‘clean freak hell’.

This was not supposed to have happened… 
My house was not supposed to become his...

Why Am I Here?

Last week I was as happy as Larry.  This week, I’m struggling. 

Every so often I hit a wall at work and wonder what the hell I’m doing here.  It’s not like I can actually change anything; I have the bruises on my forehead from the number of times of banged my head on a wall in frustration.  Guess I just have to accept that it’s government and without doubt, morons are promoted more often than the rest of us; probably to promote them out of one area and make them someone else’s problem.

Then we have the Moodle syndrome… Whenever I think the nut doctor made some sort of headway into getting him to understand that the Harridan is now the ex Mrs. Harridan, he scurries back to ground zero.

Last night she called (several times) to rant and rave and order the Squeeze to jump to attention over Kid 2 and his girlfriend.  They flew in to Melbourne from Perth and the Squeeze was to pick them up.  He had asked each of them several times for flight details to no avail so it was guess work via the Tullamarine airport site on what was landing around the supposed time.  When push came to shove, I seriously doubt anyone is going to steal them off the street, but she has to do her nutcase thing I guess.  After all, why not stick with what you are good at?

But the Squeeze just doesn’t seem to be able to get it through is fat head that he no longer has to jump through hoops of fire, little Moodle curls bobbing in the wind… Harridan standing back with poisonous darts to pitch at his head as he runs…  He can actually just bark into the phone “why are you calling me about this?  I’ve organised it; if you can do better, you organise it!”

But no; he couldn’t do that.  Instead, Moodle mantle comes out of the wardrobe and a whole world of mauve velvet whips around his body.  Idiot.

The Golden Oldies

I’m at work today; this isn’t quite as bad as it sounds, given that the rest of the world is off some place having lunch and swilling champagne. 

Why?  Well it’s blissfully quiet other than the golden oldies playing on the radio behind me.  So I’ve floated back to the 80’s at least three times in the last hour.

Every man and his dog take the three days between Christmas and New Year off.  Not me.  Taking holidays seems like a waste of leave to me, given the almost perfect environment I’m sitting in at the moment.  So far, the phone hasn’t rung once; I’ve received no real email and have had only the briefest of discussions regarding an application for the Women’s and Children’s program with my boss; after which, she pointed out that since there isn’t much on, I may as well go home after lunch.

I don’t have to be told twice – so now I am counting down the minutes until I can leave.  It has to be well timed so that I appear conscientious enough to linger after being told I can go; as opposed to just shutting down and running out the door, pausing to shout ‘yeehah’ on my way out.  

Other than checking email and the brief ‘work’ discussion, I’ve managed to talk about Christmas and then discussed concert tickets with the IT director.  We agreed that the death of royalties appears to be affecting the cost of seeing a decent band these days.  Technology is killing my world.

Then being in a Golden Oldie mood, I searched out a You Tube clip of the Rolling Stones singing Sister Morphine (in fact, I prefer Marianne Faithfull’s version [listen to it here]) and posted it to my nephew’s Facebook.  He is bored in hospital with a dicky heart and a stressed out wife.  The only highlight of his day, has been the morphine injection…

The up side of being in front of a computer for these three days is that I should have time to attend to stuff that continues to get left behind because I’ve been too busy; but who am I kidding..?

One thing I’ll say – it’s nice and quiet with the Squeeze’s kids and Harridan on the other side of the country.  Although it would be my preference for her to suddenly decide she intends to live there (and I wouldn’t put anything past her); the Squeeze would have to go to war because he actually likes to see them.

Either way, he is going to have to do something about the school report that was marred by comments regarding a lack of organisational skills (gee, wonder where the poor kid gets that from?) and bemoaning that the kid is late every day.  Not sure how the hell that works when she works there; I’m surprised they haven’t given her a swift kick. 

And now unfortunately, the kid will have to do it all again at the next “new” school in her quest for finding a muso/artist in the family.  Sigh.

Camping

Today the Squeeze dug through the garage to find the tent pegs and poles that he borrowed from friends last year.  He found both, albeit with more rust than they came with I suspect, but he couldn’t find any ropes.  I did pause to mention that the ropes are probably hidden at the Harridan’s with the tent that she is now the proud owner of.

I don’t get the lack of concern he displays over taking borrowed things, back.  I have to say I’m discovering that maybe I’m a weirdo when it comes to looking after other people’s junk, but hey, I have a list of people that I refuse to lend things to – including his kids (with damned good reason!)  Instead, they don’t berate him or warn him that he is now on the “no lend” list…  So he probably still doesn’t get it!

Of course the resurrection of the tent poles evoked ‘tent memory’ and that opened up a whole other kettle of fish.  Let’s face it…   If he had a list of people he refused to lend things to; we’d still have a tent and the Harridan would have probably have had to purchase her own in the usual manner.  Instead, she took it from Kid 1 and when all is said and done, who can blame him?  It would be so much easier to deal with the wrath of Squeeze (to be honest, I doubt he was yelled at for it at all) than dealing with the Harridan not getting her own way; for she is on the hairline trigger of madness.

Instead, the Squeeze withheld $250 from her this month.   Payment for the tent that she felt was within her rights to steal and then refuse to give back; even though he bought it well after they had separated.  Personally, I’d have purchased a similar tent and then charged her that amount.  At $250 – she got off lightly.  Still, $250 is enough to let her know that he isn’t just a lone scardy cat anymore (and I’m tipping I can be even scarier than her if pushed), and it is still enough to allow me to raise my eyebrow which in code means “I told you she wouldn’t give it back you moron; and I don’t care if she needs a kidney – she gets nothing from us”.

I was expecting that he would hear about it and I wasn’t disappointed. 

Although the argument over the tent has gone on for a year now and as a final straw, he has told her several times that he would be taking payment for the tent if not returned; we all know that she only hears the words she wants to hear and ignores the rest.  He received an email Christmas eve that said:  “Pay me correct amount” (in her usual caveman 'UGGG - wot u do' style communique) 

To which he replied with “That's it.  You owed me $250 for the tent.”

I’m sure we will not have heard the last of it.

The Damned Mandolin

My musical genius is about three seconds away from having the mandolin I bought him for his birthday, snatched off him and broken across the back of his skull.  Why did I buy it for him?

Oh wait, now he has put the mandolin down and picked up a guitar…  Now this is just so much better.  When I bought the mandolin, I was thinking “Heart” type tunes flowing out of it.  Not so.  He hasn’t mastered it as yet.

Today is our last day off prior to going back to work.  I’ll be happy if I don’t actually get dressed for the day and instead, just slink in and out of bed to read; so there is no point in actually getting dressed.

Merry Christmas World

We are having Christmas dinner as opposed to lunch this year.  All are set to descend at 6.30pm and I don't believe there is much else I can do now until I have to put the mammoth pig leg on the webber outside; and that isn't until about 1pm.

The Squeeze and I both had additional gifts for under the tree seeing as how the concert tickets were purchased together last week; however, neither arrived in time.  I bought him a Jack Kerouac t-shirt that says “I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion” – which I sounds like him.  I think he got me a Sons of Anarchy t-shirt that I can wear with my pj’s.

Of course this year, as a first, I left it at that.  I figured the tickets to Ryan Adam’s (and the romance that goes with that) and the t-shirts that never actually arrived on the day are a pretty good score – for both of us.

Then, out of the blue, Mr Romance (said without sarcasm for once in my life) whips out a Chanel bag this morning and there it is.  My favourite perfume, Coco Chanel; wrapped so perfectly that I’m loath to open it, complete with stiff gold paper, black Chanel ribbon and then slipped into the Chanel bag.

Tonight, some of my family and some of his descend on us in an attempt to devour half a pig (only a leg in reality, but at 7.3 kilo’s I’d hate to see how big the damned thing was whole).  My daughter is having a late lunch so probably won’t eat which means we will be balancing out to just under a kilo of pork each.  Looks like I over catered again…  Oh well.

Sometimes I get to pause, and think to myself rather smugly that my life is pretty near perfect.  I’m happy.  The Squeeze is happy.  Mostly, my children are happy.  Mostly, the Squeeze’s kids are happy.  I don’t think you can ask for much more than that really.

Merry Christmas World.

Starving

Never let it be said that anyone will starve at my place for dinner.   Yesterday, the Squeeze and I finished work early and went off to do our Christmas meal shopping. 

The fridge is packed tight and stacked Tetris style; so every time I take something out, I’m worried the rest will tumble.  There is champagne and beer; vegies, desserts, cream and a 7.3 kilo leg of pork.

Hmmm that could be a tad excessive, especially given that there are only nine or ten of us, but it will look bloody good!  Last year, I did the pork using a Jamie Oliver recipe.  You remove the crackling and pour lemon/lime marmalade over it, then sprinkle it with red/green chilli, coriander and lemon and lime wedges.   It looked good enough to elicit a gasp from people when I bought it out last year and it tasted better than it looked.

So I’m doing the same thing this year and given that this time I am cooking dinner as opposed to lunch; I’d better stay away from the champagne until well into the afternoon!

A Christmas Tree

Well finally; the damned tree is up and decorated.   Although I’ll admit that I love the smell of it when I walk into the house; the pine needles that float everywhere leave a lot to be desired.  I have had the vacuum cleaner out three times already; not that it does any good.

Worst part about the tree is that it doesn’t look like a Christmas tree should look.  There aren’t dozens of brightly wrapped presents… glittering in the fairy lights; bows spilling curls to the floor.  Trouble with older kids is that they usually just money; and so the gifts under the tree diminish with the little people under foot.   Sensible if you think on it, because they get the money early, then I can’t bear the thought that they get nothing Christmas day, so they get a gift anyhow.

At least I will see all of my children over the Christmas period.  My oldest and his girl are having dinner with us in the city on Christmas Eve and then we are going to look at the Myer Christmas windows.  My daughter and her partner, and my youngest son and his partner are coming to Christmas dinner on Sunday night.  We will also have the Squeeze’s mother and also, his nephew and his adopted mother.  One could say it is an eclectic mix at the dinner table.

The Squeeze’s kids are in Perth with the Harridan so there are no presents under the tree for them either.  It’s all a bit barren really.

As for us..?  Well we decided to buy each other a ticket to see Ryan Adams when he is in Melbourne during March.  The Squeeze, in one of his romantic moments (and believe me, they are rare) once sent me a song of his.

It was for my birthday one year.  We had broken up and the song arrived out of the blue…  And I loved it.

Ryan Adams - Come Pick Me Up

and I love this one:  Wonder Wall

I’m Nearly Finished My Book

When I got home last night, I had a whole list of things I wanted to get done.  Go and get a Christmas tree; decorate it.  Finish unpacking, which meant I’d have a pile of holiday washing and folding. Get dinner, pausing to remember that we have spent four days away doing nothing except eating and drinking.  In short, we are regular rolly pollies.

What did we get done?  Well we did manage to get the Christmas tree although it sits unadorned in the lounge room.  I did most of the unpacking and putting away although there is still half a suitcase to be sorted.  I did two loads of washing, but that will have to come in tonight and be ironed.

I got momentarily sidetracked as my brother sent me a photo of the Squeeze carrying a handbag he had taken on the weekend with the subject line of “he he”.  At least the Squeeze took all the ribbing he received in good spirits which meant the family liked him; but it still meant I had to find a retaliation pic – and there were millions to choose from. 

Hell, problem then was that I spent about 2 hours going through photos, cropping and fixing prior to uploading them on Facebook so that the family could have a laugh.  And there were funny/hideous ones of us all.

Before I knew it I looked up and it was eleven and the Squeeze was turning out lights and heading for bed.  I hadn’t even managed my second shower for the day!  Walking into the bedroom I paused to ask “are we having sex tonight?”  If so, that would mean I’d take the time to run with shower number two.  Instead, he looks at me and says “no way; I’m nearly finished my book!”

I think he has forgotten what it was like when he was on rations!

Student Exit Form

The Squeeze got his “student exit” form today from the Catholic Secondary College the kid goes to.  I wanted him to write quite honestly “no idea; I still haven’t been told about it...” but I suspect he won’t.

Still, it would give the school a pretty good insight into what a psychotic cow their art teacher is.

Packing

Today is all about packing for Adelaide and our river boat thing with my family.  In fact I’ve been organising for 3 days now, sorting into piles and checking off lists.  He would be happy to grab a shopping bag tomorrow morning and throw a couple of t-shirts and some boxers in there.

I’ve got to hand it to the Squeeze though.  A non-drinker embarking on a trip with my family; we are people who would be fine having champagne with our breakfast; and have done plenty of times in the past.  And then we would take it all the way through to putting down the river in the top deck hot tub singing like drunken cats.

Firstly, it will be nice to get away.  Secondly, it will be nice to be kid free.  His kids are off to Perth with the Harridan, so we are free there for a while.  I won’t see mine until Christmas day.  Sigh.  That is just a sigh of relief…

Last night, he mentioned that the kid gave him a list of what he would like for Christmas.  Included on this was a WII.  Yeah, just what that kid needs.  More technology!

Meanwhile, my juice diet has left me 3 kilo lighter; and now I’m going on the floating fat farm.  We all cook; we all cook well.  I’m probably going to die of obesity.  Just my Greek breakfast, which has me here downloading music for it, would kill a small farm animal with the cholesterol.

I’ll be blog free until I return…

Clean Up Time

I awoke to a messy, but silent house this morning.  The worst part was that I along with the serenity, I also felt a measure of guilt; because I’m pretty sure that the Squeeze had a lot of running around to do this morning, whizzing across to the other side of town to drop Kid 3 off at Kid 1’s – which meant that he got to work late.

I hunted for the speech I wrote for my Dad’s 80^th birthday which we are flying off for on Thursday, only to discover that I backed up everything on the planet, except the speech.  Which meant I had to sit and re-rewrite and I couldn’t remember all that I had written before, but knew there were some damned funny lines in there.

Still, with the writing I felt even guiltier, because while travelling down memory lane, I remembered just how much it sucked to be a teenager.  Guess I just have to suck up the “testing of boundaries” and technology and hope that he turns into a human sooner rather than later!

Encroaching!!!!!

This morning the Squeeze rolls over to inform me that we have Kid 3 tonight.  This is done after sex of course.  For a fleeting moment, I figure I can deal with another night of non-stop television and belligerence since he will be dropping him off at school while I sleep in on the first day of my holiday; I was quickly dissuaded of that idea.

School is out.  Go figure.  I miss those things now that my children are adults.  Apparently the Kid has a sax lesson tomorrow and it’s over this way.   Now we all know that the Harridan wouldn’t drag her arse out to the car to drive the kid over for the lesson; even if she did organise it.  Far easier to put everyone else out; organise for him to stay here and then summon Kid 1 to pick him up and take him to his lesson at 11am.

Ummm.  Over my dead body!  Not on my damned holiday time.  I can only do so much.  Hell, tomorrow is my time and I have a heap of things planned like waxing and stuff!  It’s not like I don’t get it.  I do.  I love my kids too and would kill or die for them without thought (well maybe a moment’s thought.)  But that didn’t stop me demanding a little respect for both myself and when it all comes down to it - them.

I mean how hard it is to teach them the basic things in life like manners…  Hygiene…  Looking after someone else’s property?   It is quite obvious that he is not taught any of those things in velvet land and the Squeeze is struggling as he acclimatizes to my way of living.  This morning I heard him say “pick that up and take it out before you get killed!” – But who the hell lies in bed watching television eating an apple and then tosses the apple core on the floor?  Really?  Who the hell does that?

And in reality, he is a nice kid, he just hasn’t been shown the correct way to act.  I swear.  Hell yeah.  My children do – but they are adults.  Hearing a fourteen your old tell his father to F off when he yells “what’s wrong?” because the kid has a cramp and is shouting his head off just doesn’t sound right.  Guess they missed that whole soap; mouth; wash act.

You combine that with the demands; the thought that he controls what we watch; just says “no” if asked to do something and the pièce de résistance – mummy calling up friends to make a play date for him, then it is no wonder that the whole weekend, his mobile has sat silent.

On the up side, my daughter who has newly moved in with her boyfriend who I didn’t approve of but had to suck it up; didn’t last a month there.  They had a wrestle around the lounge and he is in the process of moving out.  I didn’t breed any shrinking violets at least and he is the one that walked away with a broken thumb.  Still; when violence enters a relationship, it is done and dusted – because it’s all downhill from there.

Personally, I think he needs to meet someone who isn’t cowered by him.  Me and my Louisville slugger.

That Was Quick

I’m on a juice diet.  A guy at work sent me a link to this thing called “fat, sick and almost dead”.  I guess I should have been insulted but hey, reality is that the Squeeze living here, has turned me into a barn.  I know… I know… He doesn’t  hold me down and pour food down my throat, but I like to cook; eat; drink.  The why doesn’t matter; all that matters is that we are too fat to fit into any of our clothes.

So I’m on a juice diet.  Kid 3 is here and obviously he can have juice for dinner.  It doesn’t matter that it is 10 vegetables in there, made by me; the Harridan would be screaming.  So the Squeeze got another night off (don’t think he has had one on as yet) and I made him go out to eat.  Hey, I’m pretty good when I set my mind to it, but I’m not sitting here drinking juice while they are feeding their heads off on pizza.

So off they go, after about fifteen reminders to take the antibiotics – not that it matters really.  They are the ones he had last time that he didn’t take.  When his foot turns gangrenous and is lopped off, I’ll remind him that antibiotics are the evil thing that could have saved his foot.  Damned velvet wearers!

Anyhow, they squeak off for dinner and I get in a couple of games of scrabble online, one tweet reply and start thinking about what to write and then they get back!  Do I get no peace?  At least I can’t smell the pizza…

My day off is tomorrow.  We are doing Christmas dinner early and I’m not going to be swilling juice while a Mexican lamb roast is cooking!

Laziest Person on the Planet

It’s now official.  I am living with the laziest man on the planet; possibly the universe.  Trust me; I know… I’ve got ex-husbands.  Lazy one too.  But they were nothing like this.  I can now see why “clean freak hell” was clean freaking hell.  And it wasn't just the kids.

The Squeeze literally drops things where he is standing.  Just decides “don’t need this now” and drops it.   It is astounding!  Today we had stuff all over the table; my desk looks like hades; pair of boots haphazardly tossed in the spare bedroom.  Boots and socks in the lounge.  Newspapers; books; dvd’s; stuff… more stuff… and more!  It’s everywhere!  And I’m exhausted!  If he keeps it up, he will be living in the fricking garage.  He can knock himself out making a mess out there.

Aside from my issues with his sloppiness, the week has been a non-event.  I’ve been too busy at work to breath, let alone blog… I haven't even had time to think of what to blog about.  When I get home it’s to try to do work and keep the Squeeze focused – a difficult task on any day. 

Last night we came home and had dinner (vegetable juice – oh the joy… I’m fast getting over detox) and then we went walking.  We get in the door and I have to head him off at the pass as he is running for the television.  Instead, I suggest he spend the 15 minutes required to finish his tax.  Three times I got up from my work and went to the study door, only to find him surfing You Tube!  I’m still not sure if he actually completed it.

We were to have kid 3 on Wednesday but that didn’t eventuate due to the 'broken' toe that of course, wasn't a broken toe - even after the third doctor saw it.  Weird, she usually finds one to back her up.  Still, this is fine by me.  If she wants to give up going out every time the kid gets a runny nose, that’s her choice.  I can even handle the inference that we are morons that couldn’t be trusted to look after a toe.

Then the Squeeze informs me that we are on again this weekend.  WTF??  This is a repeated two fold hell.  1.  I like the kid, but hey; I was smart enough to have mine and stop when I was an old fart (something this pair of morons would have benefited from).  In other words, I like my kid free life and don’t want every weekend consumed with kidly stuff.  Hell, if she ever decides it’s time for the kid to live with Dad, well I’ll be helping him pack and house hunt.

2.  This kid is nearly fifteen.  He has no friends and spends at least every second weekend with us.  There are no calls or texts.  No sleep overs.  Nothing.  I find this odd and have no idea how, but think it needs to be addressed.  That isn't even thinking about the fact that he is totally consumed with technology from the minute he gets in the door.

Besides, the toe is infected again and I won’t be able to refrain from mentioning the fact that it is now well over one year and this stupid ingrown toe could have been fixed after one week and a course of antibiotics; and maybe a dose of hygiene.

The Good Old Days

I am longing for the good old days when I actually had a spare second to myself over the course of a day.

Work was kind of easy; I could organise things and shoot of communique and still have time to go for coffee and read the paper.  Not lately.  Now I’m running around like a headless chook… Going in early for meetings – early!  And I’m shaking my head and wondering how it all changed so quickly!

Home time is made up of more work because I’m trying to get a business up with a friend of mine; but dotted in and around this, is bouts of housework and television.  Both of these things have greatly affected my ability to blog; which I find is kind of like losing a part of myself.

Television has become the bane of my life.  Once upon a time, before the Squeeze moved in and my life went to hell in a hand basket; I didn’t watch much television.  Now, it’s on from the minute I walk in the door (he beats me home.)  Enough I say!  Last night the Squeeze went off to the spare room to watch with headphones on while I worked.

Tonight, he is off to dinner with Kid 2.  Kid 3 was on the list to be babysat tonight but injured his toe at cricket the other day.  As the world would know by now, the Squeeze and I are incapable of looking after a kid with a sore toe (strange that mine are all still alive…), however, this meant that the Harridan had to cancel her night out and stay at home to play martyr (which I suspect is far more satisfying for her).

I will work.

I suspect the “kid out for dinner” is in regards to the fact that we have watched television and basically eaten ourselves to death.  While moving stuff around or just plain working, some of the cooking has fallen to him and it is always calorie laden pasta dishes that are yummy but make you have to rock backwards and forwards a little to get off your chair.  So I have activated drastic measures of being on a juice diet.  A guy I work with sent me the link to “Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead” or something similar and I figured yes, that’s what my system needs – a re boot.  I’m at day 1 and feel okay but can see that by day three, I’ll be sick to death of it.  Anyhow, worth a shot!

So the Squeeze will be off to the nut doctor learning how to “say no” and I’ll be off walking.  Then he’ll be off having pasta for dinner while I have vegetable juice.  Then I’ll work, he’ll come home and watch television.

Then we’ll go to bed and I’ll get to feel a tiny bit superior…  I like it!

Backup - What's the Damned Point?

Yesterday, the Squeeze and I cleaned out the garage.  It was hard work but today - it’s a thing of beauty.  We are not where I intend it to be yet, but it is getting closer; you could actually swing a cat in there if we had one.  We spent the afternoon lugging boxes, sweating and sweeping – which meant sneezing out the dust; eventually I gave up and just vacuumed the damned thing.

No help from kid 3.  Kids are decidedly lazy these days.  Maybe they always were and I just forgot.   In fact I noticed that Kid 3 was migrating into the “hostile” land of “teenager”.  He has arrived at that time when they think it is fine to say “no” if asked to do something.  This ought to be interesting; because the Squeeze and I are at opposite ends of the parenting universe, which means he’ll ignore the cheek and I’ll bite my tongue.  There is hope, as long as there is a flat screen with surround in the spare bedroom and a computer hooked to the net, then we hardly see him.  I can’t help but think how unhealthy a weekend with a remote glued to your hand is, but I suppose it can be weighed against the weeks of zip technology he gets at home.

 After the garage, I showered off about thirteen layers of grime and got dressed to go out for dinner with friends of the Squeeze.  Usually, I find this difficult.  I still do; mostly, given that there was no ‘separation’; but I am at relative ease with the couple who were having the dinner and even the old “velvet land” friend that I met for the first time didn’t make me feel as though I had 2 heads, so that was fine too.

Today I’ve spent all day on my laptop.  All.  Day.  It is now 5.36pm and I’m still in my pj’s.

I have been attempting to get some semblance of order on my laptop – to no avail.  I had to get remote assistance from Norton’s because the “restore from backup” sure as hell didn’t work the five times I tried it.  Now..?  Well I got some of it back but there is some sort of weird default user so stuff is going between the two of us.  In the end, I decided that if I had to spend another second sorting it out, I’d seriously start having a tantrum – so I basically left it half done and began designing a website.  This proved about as frustrating as the damned laptop!

The Squeeze has done his standard ‘back to Velvet Land’ to take the kid back.  Things are a little easier these days when he comes home from Velvet Land.  I’m not sure if that means I’m no longer concerned that his testicles live elsewhere, or if it means he is actually sticking up for himself.  In the end, they are his testicles.

Still; even with my new found “tolerance”; the reality is that if it affects me, he sure as hell better deal with it.  It’s just that sometimes the line between what affects me and what affects him, becomes muzzy…

I find it totally offensive that the Harridan would change schools without any discussion or consultation with the Squeeze; but he has to deal with it.  For my mind, I don’t care what school he goes to.  If a kid is going to make it, they will; no matter what school you send them to.   The new school can have the greatest music program on the planet – but I’m not seeing the kid destined for stardom.  He isn’t committed.  He isn’t like Kid 1 who used to drive me mad practising the damned piano until I wanted to storm in there and slam the damned lid shut on his fingers….

No; he isn’t like Kid 1 (thank god) I could count the times I’ve seen him practise over the last two years – on one hand.

So sure, change schools… Again.  But don’t whine that he has no friends, because three schools in three years means no stability in the friend market I’m afraid.  And don’t browbeat the kids to lie about it; like it is some huge conspiracy theory – because it’s not like the Squeeze won’t notice that he changed schools (because she will sure as hell give him the bill); just like he was going to realise at some stage, that they moved house – even if they all lied about it.

So while taking the kid home, the Squeeze was supposed to address the fact that organising things behind his back and instruct the kids to lie about it was out.  He was also going to do a reminder that rather than stealing his tent, she had in fact purchased it.  Plan away, but plan with $250 less than she would otherwise have planned for Christmas.

Will he do any of that..?  Probably not.  Will he ensure he sticks to what he has said..?  Not sure.  Will he do what he is told and then lie to me about it?  I don’t think so; I’ve already told him the next lie is the last lie in my world.

Sticking Up for Yourself!

When I was young, I’d rather have been eaten alive than complain to anyone about anything.  Not so as I get older – in fact now I’m wondering if I’m turning into a crotchety old woman.  Nah.

So I email the store to complain about the treatment I received and explain the treatment I received and mention that I felt they had ruined an otherwise perfect transaction.  After all, my dealings with the store were fantastic (thank you JB HI FI) but that there were people out there that would have the experience soured so badly, that they would be guilty by association.

To my surprise, I get a call from JB the next morning and they were great; they called to speak to Nati*nal PC Solutions who I have no doubt, lied their heads off (strangely enough, he spoke to the manager who I was told, was having “personal issues” and wouldn’t be in for the week…) and although I suspected they wouldn’t post my laptop until Friday, thus making me miss another weekend, he assured me that it was posted.

Last night I rush to the post office.  Not there.  Well I knew damned well the cow wouldn’t send it the day I spoke to her… maybe Thursday.  Tonight, I rush to the post office – not there.

So I came home and emailed JB again.  The petty, ridiculous behaviour…  The rudeness and carry on over $15 – became apparent.  If he had been attempting to pacify me but believing them, his annoyance that they had deliberately not sent the laptop gave him a pretty good indication of exactly what I was dealing with.

And so they will get another call in the morning.  I wonder if that $15 was worth the business..?

As for the Squeeze – things are cruising.  The Harridan is silent; in her creepy, “don’t talk about anything to your father” kind of way – which he met up with Kid 1 & 2 yesterday and told that from here on in, covering up or lying for her was out.  Hell, they already know she is a nutjob.

Under the Lilies

I found it amusing to receive an email from a friend of mine yesterday asking me if I was still alive and if I was, where the hell was the blog?  I replied to say that I was most certainly still alive, but life has been hectic.  An answer fired back with “I was beginning to think you were in the back yard buried under the lilies…”  This made me laugh as I replied with “if anyone is going to end up under the lilies, we both know it won’t be me.”  She agreed.

So aside from life, work, kids and the normal hectic curveballs we usually get thrown, I’ve had an issue with my internet connection (now fixed) and an even worse issue with my laptop.

I’m a relatively careful person, so upon purchase I made sure to pay the extra and grab the extended warranty.  This proved to be fortunate since the hard drive was faulty and died about three seconds after the one year warranty ran out.  I was amazed that it ever so politely informed me “the hard drive is faulty; you should back up and contact the supplier”.  Ha!  Like everything I have isn’t backed up; then backed up again.  Organisation is my middle name! (Actually, it’s Jane, but you get my drift.)

So I called the number on the extended warranty pamphlet and was informed that I would receive a call from a company regarding its repair.

And that is where the drama began.  Wait one day to get a reply to my original call.  Then another day passes while I receive a post order print out, wrap the laptop, bubble wrap and pack it in a box.  I read and reread the documentation and suspicious of the world, wonder if there will be an issue that isn’t covered by the warranty – such as ill treatment.  Good luck with that.  I love my laptop and it looks like new.

A few days go by and I call to find out what is happening only to discover that the hard drive was indeed faulty and due to the size of it, they were awaiting one to come in.  Another couple of days go by and I get a call; all fixed – on its way back to me. 

Ahh my true love is coming home!

There is something I don’t quite understand about companies or the post office.  I have a post office box but things like computers or phones can’t be sent there; they have to go to your home address.  I’m at work so what do they do..?  Take it to the post office – and not my usual one either which throws more running around into the mix.

I don’t care about the run around; I rush into the house, rip the box open and there it is… Glistening and red, like a beam from the heavens is shining on it.  I open the lid reverently, press start and I see the windows firefly things whizz to life for about three seconds before all goes black.

I do it again.  Same thing.  Close the lid and march to the phone to call the company.

Of course they are not in by the time I’ve come home from work, traipsed off to two different post offices and made it home to test; so I don’t get a call back until the morning.  Now a week has passed.

I go to work with the laptop, boxed up, in the boot of my car, figuring I’ll have to send it back and get a call from some guy who gives me the instructions to press F8 while starting it, then select “last known configuration that worked” (which amazingly worked); then shut down and do it again.

The doing it again part didn’t go so well, it just went to a black screen again.

I call back, tell another guy what the problem was, what I was instructed to do and what the result was; where upon he tells me to send it back.  Great, another week without my damned laptop.

Yesterday I get a call from some receptionist to say that my computer is ready to be sent back to me.  There was a memory card in it and the boot sequence was going to that so it was my problem, not theirs and I’d have to pay the return postage.

I decided to argue the point.  I actually don’t care if the postage is $15 or $500 but I do expect a service, especially when I have paid for it.  I tell her that I am assuming it was tested prior to being sent back and that the tech should have seen that would happen and leave a note in it; if not then, then perhaps when I called and spoke to two people there, one of them should have mentioned the memory card.

Now I like to think I’m a reasonable person but this is where it all goes pear shaped.  Her tone turns cold and the rudeness level goes up as she basically tells me “too bad” at which point I remind her that I am the customer and she tells me “I don’t care what you are.”

Ooookkkaayyy.  The conversation moves along: (I’m sure you’ll get who is who)

“I can see this is going nowhere, I’d like to speak to the manager please.”

“He isn’t here.”

“Well I’d like his phone number.”

“I can’t give out his number.”

“Well… Why don’t you give him mine and ask him to call me.”

“He won’t.  He isn’t here.  He has personal issues and won’t be back this week”.

“Is there anyone else there I can speak to?”

Then I get the tech that worked on my laptop and was actually the first guy I spoke I had explained the issue to.  He proceeds to tell me he spoke with me, told me what to do and I didn’t bother to call back and say what happened.  I pointed out that my call back was answered by someone else, I explained in full and was emailed the post slip”

Then I had the same argument I’d just had with the bimbo.  I tell him that if there is a memory card in there, it’s been in there for months and that had never happened previously so why now?  He says that it was sitting in there but not pushed in and maybe while they were wrapping it in gladwrap and boxing it up; the packer had pushed it in.

Thinking that this is an admission of guilt..?  Of course not.  He says it is my fault and I have to pay the freight and then goes off and gets the cost only to come back onto the phone to say “lady, its $15 is it really worth all the arguing?”  I once again remind them that I am the customer and they are the business – so perhaps they should ask if the $15 is worth their reputation…

Where upon I get a “well I can’t help you” and I actually hear the phone moving away from him so I screech “don’t you DARE even think about hanging up on me!”  He comes back on the line, argues some more and then mentions that fine, if I want to cause such a fuss, they will pay it.

I hang up, fuming and suspecting that although it is ready to go Tuesday, it won’t be posted until Friday, meaning I don’t get it back til the week after.

Well N*tional PC Solutions; I emailed the store as soon as I got home and told them that I was instructed to do so by the bimbo who answers phones!

The List to Address

Well the Squeeze departed to take Kid 3 home this afternoon (thank God).  These weekends totally wring me out; exhaust me…   Everything is such a drama and my stress levels soar.   The sending off without clothes; the non-showering; the laziness.  The reality that she is a pig; the Squeeze is a pig (if I let it take control) and between them, them have bred the laziest bunch of piglets I have ever seen.

After we forced the kid to have a shower even though he carried on because the foot had to be inside a bag, inside another bag and sealed with medical tape (all for a minor toenail operation done 1.5 weeks ago mind you); I found the soggy bags laying on the bedroom floor with the clothes that needed the stick removal (I made the Squeeze get them and take them to the laundry because I sure as hell wasn’t touching them).  Then we had the “tinea” issue – yeah, thanks for alerting us to the fact that the kid has a fungus!  Common courtesy would suggest that maybe, she should give us a heads up to that.  But no… Not this bitch.

I’m to the other extreme of this family of sloths and I’d rather be stripped naked, covered in honey and staked to an ants nest than use anyone else’s towel; so the last time the fungus came to town, I got out of it unscathed.   The Squeeze was not so lucky, acquiring “jock itch” or some sort of fungus in the penis region.

There wasn’t a hope in hell that thing was going anywhere near me until it was totally gone; and don’t think I didn’t demand a light on inspection before I conceded!

So the laziness, the fungus, the sheer unadulterated lazy bitchiness of it all…  WTF?  For your information, I’m wearing a bright red summer dress; I’m not in a maid’s costume!  And I can’t even blame the kid because this is the fault of the parents.  I already know what Kid 2’s place is like – it’s the new ‘clean freak hell’.  Kid 1 – wouldn’t know but knew the state of his room at clean freak hell.  Now this budding little pig inflicted on society!

We were in the car for a long time today so I was doubly glad I’d pushed the shower, change of clothes thing, but sorry I’d washed his school uniform too – I should have left that for her and next time, I’ll make sure it’s secured in a plastic bag dirty and she can gag when she opens it!

So off he went down to velvet wearing land.  He had sent a text prior stating “if the tent isn’t collected today; you bought it” – but we all know it won’t be there, and I seriously doubt he will proceed with the “bought it part”; and someone in this partnership has to be the materialistic weasely one; someone has to save this idiot from himself!  

So if he arrives without it and doesn’t doc her maintenance, then we are back to the kid not coming in January when she ‘wants’ us to have him – and I will ensure it happens.  I will make sure the house is packed to rafters with other invitee’s on the same damned week – because I refuse to roll over continuously for this bitch.

In the scheme of things, that seems small by comparison since he also had the “don’t forget to discuss the non-showering; the no packing of clothes; the tent and who the hell she thinks she is in changing schools without even a discussion!!!”

Frankly, I’m tipping none of that will be done.

Washing: A Necessity; not a Luxury

The last few times Kid 3 has been here for a weekend, he has smelled.  I’m talking creepy, unwashed old man kind of smell.  It is not just him, his clothes reek of it.  It makes me physically wretch.  I have a keen sense of smell and a weak stomach.  I’m wondering if she is saving up clothes until they have this stench, prior to sending him here; but I can’t believe anyone would be that cruel to their own kid.

I’ve mentioned the smell several times to the Squeeze; and combined it with ‘the’ discussion.  Hell, this lack of hygiene thing needs to be addressed with the Harridan – not just for me, but for him.  Not to mention that smell permeates the spare room.  And it is getting worse.  Last time he was here I had to undo the car window and stick my head out like a dog going on a ride (minus my tongue hanging out) whenever we went anywhere; yes, it seriously was that overpowering.

This morning, I got up and sent the Squeeze out to cook breakfast on the bbq while I made us coffee on our new coffee machine (which I am actually becoming quite skilled at I may just add in there)  We sat down to breakfast but I only made it half way through mine before gagging and making an excuse to eat in the kitchen.  I could not physically sit in the same room as him.

I don’t get it.  I don’t understand it.  What sort of pig is this woman?  When we raised the idea of having a shower, he replied that he wasn’t able to due to his toe; hadn’t had a shower since Wednesday week ago – WTF???  10 Days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I mentioned that I had my toe done years ago and I managed to shower after a day or so to which he replied that his had been infected which delayed things.  I of course, had to say “yeah; probably because you don’t fricking shower…”  So he slunk off back to stink out the spare room.

Okay.  There are no if’s or but’s here.  I’m not going to gag in my own home; so either the kid showers and changes clothes, or off the pair go.  He had a shower (after much arguing) and the Squeeze gave him a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt (which I will wash and take back tomorrow) while I moved his stuff from the washing basket to the washing machine with a stick…

No undies.  No socks.  Just jeans and a t-shirt.  Dumb bitch.  I mean how hard is it to ensure the kid has packed some clothes to wear.  But not her; she sends only the reeking, vile jeans and t-shirt he changed into.  I quite literally, would have been happy to toss the whole lot in a garbage bag.

This must have a profound effect on forming any kind of friendship; bonding is out while you are gagging.  Poor kid.  Of course, I can’t guarantee she isn’t storing a pair of jeans and t-shirt in the garage and bringing them out each weekend he is with us; but I suspect not – the kid doesn’t seem to be gagging.

Aside from that, we went out to dinner with the boys and had a good time.  They had a card and he received money to go buy a kindle – so I was pleased with that.  He deserves a present.  Kid 2 is really quite the conversationalist when he gets going; and even better, I was impressed at how wrapt he was to get my old television.

The only sour note on the evening was when it was mentioned that Kid 3 was changing schools… Again.

How nice it is to be a parent and guardian; yet strangely, not even consulted on things like this.  Frankly, I would stop her – A: to prove a point;   B: because the kid has no friends now.  C:  we are not putting in for another new school uniform.

The tent, if not returned tomorrow; is hers.  He has told her that he will keep $250 of her maintenance next payment; which I will believe when I see it.  I know that he is full of empty threats; as does she.  And he would rather lie to me than wear her wrath I suspect. 

Having said that, lies have a way of coming out at inopportune moments; and if he lies to me on this, we are done.

I’m thinking about asking the kid about how often his mother washes his clothes…

Birthday Dinners

We are off out for dinner tonight catching up with all 3 of the Squeeze’s boys, and boy 2’s partner.  The Squeeze, Boy 1 and 2 all have birthdays around the same time.  The Squeeze was annoyed that he went to bed last night without working out what he had bought and who it was going to.

I’m sure they are all doing the very same thing today….   Not.  And I’m seriously going to attempt just to nod and smile tonight.  If they turn up empty handed, selfish swine’s, then I won’t say a word…

I’ve got the day off but instead of relaxing, I’m helping the girl move her stuff.  I got a text at 8am asking me to wash some towels and bedding for her so they were fine when they got to the new place.  Sheesh.  So much for a sleep in.

To make it worse, it’s hot here today.  In the 30’s and humid.  My brand new coffee machine is sitting on the bench and I’ve manage to read enough to pull it down, wash it and put it back; but don’t have the time to read the next bit and work out actually making myself a coffee or I’ll still be in my pyjamas when the moving crowd arrive!

Dawn Breaking

Dawn was not watched when it happened at my place; I didn’t wake until about nine given that my daughter and I went off to a 12.01am showing of Breaking Dawn, part one of the last of the Twilight movies.  They leave it so long between movies that I keep thinking I’ll be disappointed.  I wasn’t; it was actually pretty good. 

Of course it is so damned romantic that you can’t help but leaving the movie wondering what you did wrong as you get into bed next to a lump that doesn’t even wake up!  I’m not even hoping for the sparkly super human bit!

My daughter and I have gone to the 12.01 session on opening night each Twilight movie; it’s become tradition.  There we were last night, in Gold Class, lying back in our chairs, food and drink coming; the girl with a gold class blanket over her, stretched out like a queen.

Tomorrow is all about moving.  I’ve taken today and tomorrow off so that I can help clean out my garage and get the girl and her never ending pile of stuff, moved.  It will be good for her to have her own place, it will be good to have a garage again finally!

So tomorrow I get to lug stuff about all day and then go across to the other side of town to have dinner with the Squeeze and his heathens.  I still have a tiny piece of hope that they will turn up with a card and gift; although I’m thinking that I won’t hold my breath.  I’ve told them what happens in my house to selfish kids who couldn’t give a hoot about their parent – but in the end, it is the Squeeze that has to teach them the art of consideration – and I can’t see that happening anytime soon.

In moving the girl, I asked him if Kid 2 on his side wanted a television stand and a large television that she no longer needed as she bout a flat screen and surround sound.  Okay, it isn’t the trendiest new item; but it works and is a good brand.  Hell, I’d been using it up until last year.  When he came home, he said that the girlfriend wasn’t impressed that he had bought it over there because it was only 3 or so inches bigger than the one they were using and she wanted a flat screen.  WTF?

I don’t think he understood my “beggars can’t be choosers” line; nor my frosty “it’s quite simple… go to school, get an education and a real job and you get to buy yourself the things that you want.  Stay on the dole or just do bar work when you have to; and you probably don’t get to buy nice things”. 

In short, she fell about four rungs on my ladder of respect.

Mercy of Technology

My world, I have discovered, is at the mercy of technology.

Last night we went down to Aireys’s Inlet which according to where.is.com.au is about a 1.45 trip.  No so.  Try 2.25 hours.  It may have been a five hour round trip however, this time was well spent.  I caught up with old friends and realise how lucky I have been to have great people cross my path.

Today, it was the Squeeze’s birthday.   He woke early to me bouncing on the bed and singing “is it your birthday today…” – an old Play School song that played and birthday names rolled past.  Actually, that was only when I ran off to get my well hidden gift.  He had been sleeping and so I turned to face him; watching.  I knew he would sense it, he always does.  Suddenly one eye opens and looks at me. 

Birthdays have always been important in my family; I gather not so much in his.  Christmas and father’s/mother’s days – yeah; but a birthday is the one day of the year that is yours.

I got him a card with his name spelled out on cheer leader pom poms (how) and an electric mandolin that had taken me much searching to find the exact one I wanted which was not about features, because let’s face it, I don’t know one from the next.  It was about how it looked.  Plain and classy as opposed to in your face Memphis stuff.

This seemed like a great idea because he plays guitar and I figured one string thing is the same as the next; but it seems instead, I gave the gift of grief.  They are not the same.  I don’t play anything, (although have wanted a piano since I was about ten and still say I will get one, one day…)  Still, it felt as though he was playing the mandolin like a guitar; and it sounded wrong.  We have decided to get him lessons…

The gift of grief it may have been, but at least I remembered and celebrated the day with a card and gift and a cooked breakfast.  Kid 1 didn’t remember at all.  Kid 3 remembered late this afternoon and Kid 2 met us on the other side of town.

Back to the title of this blog…   It will be an exceedingly short, sharp blog.  My laptop that has only just clicked over one year old but is a core 7, so no slouch – has been popping up warnings to backup – the hard disk is faulty.  Stupid hard disk.

What this means for most of humanity, is a huge problem.

What that means to me, who is backed up and backed up again – and currently doing a full backup… The person that of course, spent the extra $150 and purchased extended warranty is a minor hiccup while I take it in and tell them I need the hard disk replaced!

You do have to love the way modern computers work.  They don’t just die willy nilly; they actually prepare you for the event!