Part Two of the Crazy Chronicles.
So I vaguely alluded to there being more to the craziness of our sister house. The first hint of bitchiness was Lucy and Josie vowing a hatred to Kate because she went to a party they weren't invited to. Cue awkward nodding all through hearing this story. About a week after this, we had the four of them over to dinner. Lucy and Kate rode, Josie walked from uni and Elliot walked from town. So, Lucy Kate and Josie end up at our house first, Cody and Josh are in town picking some things up. And all of a sudden I'm being bombarded with hate mail about Elliot. Wow. So I'm all, oh, I thought you guys got along. ...awkwardly chops garlic... Apparently not. Reasons for hatred towards Elliot include:
A. He spends too much time in the lounge room.
B. He always watches the news and talks about it
C. He's just, so, ARGH.
Yup, solid arguments there. Almost as solid as last weeks Kate hatred. All the while I'm trying to politely not get involved in the conversation and hoping the boys get home and manage to change the subject before Elliot arrives.
At this point Josh and I are both fairly well in agreeance to a distaste for the house, or mainly, Lucy. She seems to instigate most of the issues and manages to convince everyone at the same time that she is their best friend. Kate is her tagalong. Josie, I can't quite pinpoint, she's the most fun, but I think she is sometimes just mean for pure enjoyment. Elliot, completely clueless to all the girl drama going on around him.
The crazy goes on too. Elliot found out off mutual friends that they didn't intend him to live with them for much longer. Lucy claims it isn't true. Elliot and I kissed one night at the Club we go to. Josie spends the rest of the night trying to get me to take a band member home. An awkward tagalong attatches himself to our group one night. Lucy has a tantrum and claims he offended her, demanding he leave. I step in and say she's crossing a line, go and talk to the awkward tagalong. Kate yells at me and her and Lucy run off.
So, with absolute perfect timing of Josh and I swearing to have nothing more to do with them.. Cody and Lucy hook up. F U C K I N G W O N D E R F U L. Cody and Jill break up. Cody and Lucy spend every breathing moment together. And all the crazy continues.
This thursday just gone Lucy held a girls night. Conveniently, I heard about it from Elliot first, who wanted to know what our house was doing as he couldnt very well participate in the girls night. Bitchy crazy girls or not, I'm not even the biggest fan of girls nights. I mean, really, what's with them? I played innocent, knowing full well Lucy intended me along to the girls night, and claimed that we would all drink together. When I did get the text, I sent back a polite thanks, but I told the boys we'd drink together tonight. And I do believe I have been henceforth blacklisted. Hilariously, I wasn't the only girl who got invited to girls night and skipped to drink with the boys.
Perhaps it'll click some day.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Better the crazy bitch that lives 3 hours away than the crazy bitch that doesn't
Part One of the Crazy Chronicles.
I have always gotten along better with boys. Girls have this ridiculous ability to, for lack of a better expression, be a pack of bitches. And it's always so so petty.
Luckily, after high school, most girls move on from this. But, three years out of school now (I know, what?) I am discovering that this isn't entirely the case. The scary thing about girls who are bitches three years out of high school, is that they're really fucking good at it. And a little bit sociopathic. My logic is that in high school, most girls are just following the bitching trend, or releasing some pent up hormones. The ones that stick at it, they really enjoy it. Creeps.
So for this story to make any degree of sense, I'm going to have to outline some of the main players in my life to date. I currently live in a house with Cody and Josh, whom I love to bits. Cody had been in a longterm longdistance relationship with a girl for 18 months- since before he went away to uni. Our house has been "dating" another house. I'm worried about some of these names showing up on websearches (because I'm crazy like that) so I'm going to use psuedonyms for the more obscure names. The other house consists of Lucy, Josie, Kate and Elliot. I think we know them because Josh does some classes with some of the girls. I don't really know. I just know that somehow they all of a sudden exist in our lives in a big way. They just kind of appeared. Maybe they're aliens.
Anyway, they invite us to their parties, we invite them to ours. We have them over for dinner and vice versa. Lucy and Josh hooked up a few times and it really seemed like they were going to happen. Except that Lucy was kind of insane about it. She'd kiss him, then ignore him, then kiss him. She'd try to tell him what to do and when he didn't she'd start talking about boys she was in love with. It was really just a little weird. So thus ended that, and Lucy was unimpressed when Josh wouldn't play along anymore.
Enter Cody. So they have a bit in common. By which I mean they both like their drugs frequent and illicit. Don't get me wrong, the rest of our little gang isn't opposed to the occasional latenight spongebob with a joint session. They're just a little more intense about it. And so Lucy is all upset about Josh, and wanting to get high, and wanting Cody to stay over, and sleeping in Codys bed, and texting Cody all the time.
Josh and I are less than impressed at this turn of events, as Cody is seemingly oblivious to Lucys obvious efforts to break up him and ...erm, she's probably crazy enough to be able to find this if I make it too easy, let's call her Jill. Jill is not entirely stable. Upon moving in with Cody, Josh and myself quickly established this. She stayed here for a few weeks over the holidays. Kept a track of all our money and who owed who what, and called us out on it. This is, between the three of us housemates, no money involving her. Quite frankly, if I live with someone, and they owe me five bucks. I do not care. Because I'm probably watching their TV, or they're going to come home with MacDonalds and I'm going to steal half of it. And then when she was back in their hometown. It was the phonecalls. Freaking non stop. She's the only person I've ever encountered who will ring a homephone till it rings out and then ring it again straight away. Rinse, Lather, Repeat. Until something good comes on tv or something. And then there was the time she asked Josh over facebook what he was doing "me and Cody are just having a boys afternoon actually, it's really good having some beers and catching up, I only jumped on here to look something up. I'll talk to you later" and queue Jill ringing Cody and proceeding to talk to him about all the things upsetting her for over and hour. CAHRAYZEE.
Josh and I have a couple of chats with Cody along the 'anything going on with you and Lucy, you seem to be spending a concerning amount of time together, and you know, sleeping in the same bed' line. Of couse to no avail, they're just friends! It's fine! He loves Jill! Friends can spoon! And well, at this point Lucy has moved into the 'reason I don't like girls' category. It's not only the whole manipulating both my housemates thing, it's a lot of little behaviours that would take an essay to explain. I'm sure you trust my judgement. And BITCH IS TRYING TO BREAK MY HOUSEMATE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND UP OK.
So yes, Jill has a serious case of the crazies. But Josh and I are both pretty firmly feeling 'better the devil you know than the devil you don't' or, more to the point, 'better the crazy bitch that lives 3 hours away than the crazy bitch that doesn't.'
Sigh, I have things to do and drinks to drink, the saga will continue soon.
I have always gotten along better with boys. Girls have this ridiculous ability to, for lack of a better expression, be a pack of bitches. And it's always so so petty.
Luckily, after high school, most girls move on from this. But, three years out of school now (I know, what?) I am discovering that this isn't entirely the case. The scary thing about girls who are bitches three years out of high school, is that they're really fucking good at it. And a little bit sociopathic. My logic is that in high school, most girls are just following the bitching trend, or releasing some pent up hormones. The ones that stick at it, they really enjoy it. Creeps.
So for this story to make any degree of sense, I'm going to have to outline some of the main players in my life to date. I currently live in a house with Cody and Josh, whom I love to bits. Cody had been in a longterm longdistance relationship with a girl for 18 months- since before he went away to uni. Our house has been "dating" another house. I'm worried about some of these names showing up on websearches (because I'm crazy like that) so I'm going to use psuedonyms for the more obscure names. The other house consists of Lucy, Josie, Kate and Elliot. I think we know them because Josh does some classes with some of the girls. I don't really know. I just know that somehow they all of a sudden exist in our lives in a big way. They just kind of appeared. Maybe they're aliens.
Anyway, they invite us to their parties, we invite them to ours. We have them over for dinner and vice versa. Lucy and Josh hooked up a few times and it really seemed like they were going to happen. Except that Lucy was kind of insane about it. She'd kiss him, then ignore him, then kiss him. She'd try to tell him what to do and when he didn't she'd start talking about boys she was in love with. It was really just a little weird. So thus ended that, and Lucy was unimpressed when Josh wouldn't play along anymore.
Enter Cody. So they have a bit in common. By which I mean they both like their drugs frequent and illicit. Don't get me wrong, the rest of our little gang isn't opposed to the occasional latenight spongebob with a joint session. They're just a little more intense about it. And so Lucy is all upset about Josh, and wanting to get high, and wanting Cody to stay over, and sleeping in Codys bed, and texting Cody all the time.
Josh and I are less than impressed at this turn of events, as Cody is seemingly oblivious to Lucys obvious efforts to break up him and ...erm, she's probably crazy enough to be able to find this if I make it too easy, let's call her Jill. Jill is not entirely stable. Upon moving in with Cody, Josh and myself quickly established this. She stayed here for a few weeks over the holidays. Kept a track of all our money and who owed who what, and called us out on it. This is, between the three of us housemates, no money involving her. Quite frankly, if I live with someone, and they owe me five bucks. I do not care. Because I'm probably watching their TV, or they're going to come home with MacDonalds and I'm going to steal half of it. And then when she was back in their hometown. It was the phonecalls. Freaking non stop. She's the only person I've ever encountered who will ring a homephone till it rings out and then ring it again straight away. Rinse, Lather, Repeat. Until something good comes on tv or something. And then there was the time she asked Josh over facebook what he was doing "me and Cody are just having a boys afternoon actually, it's really good having some beers and catching up, I only jumped on here to look something up. I'll talk to you later" and queue Jill ringing Cody and proceeding to talk to him about all the things upsetting her for over and hour. CAHRAYZEE.
Josh and I have a couple of chats with Cody along the 'anything going on with you and Lucy, you seem to be spending a concerning amount of time together, and you know, sleeping in the same bed' line. Of couse to no avail, they're just friends! It's fine! He loves Jill! Friends can spoon! And well, at this point Lucy has moved into the 'reason I don't like girls' category. It's not only the whole manipulating both my housemates thing, it's a lot of little behaviours that would take an essay to explain. I'm sure you trust my judgement. And BITCH IS TRYING TO BREAK MY HOUSEMATE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND UP OK.
So yes, Jill has a serious case of the crazies. But Josh and I are both pretty firmly feeling 'better the devil you know than the devil you don't' or, more to the point, 'better the crazy bitch that lives 3 hours away than the crazy bitch that doesn't.'
Sigh, I have things to do and drinks to drink, the saga will continue soon.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Appletinis and Mean Girls
I always do that thing where I say I'll talk about something and in turn don't actually feel like talking about it. But the mum scotch story is actually a bit of a funny one, so I'll bear with it.
My mother went to Malaysia recently, to visit my cousin and have a bit of a holiday. My sister is 17 now so she was home alone (much to my Mothers distress, who wanted her to go and stay with Dad). So I decided to go home for a weekend. Partly to spend some time with Bell, and partly to get away from ex-boyfriend-land for a bit.
Saturday night, my home crew got together, and we had appletinis and watched Mean Girls. It was one of those amazing nights where we talked and drunk all night. And in true teenager style, we ran out of vodka and raided the parentals closet. Goodness, can you believe it? Never in my underage years. Never in my teenage years. Never did I do the typical have a party because the parents are away and break into the grog cupboard.
Of course it didn't go down exactly like that. There were 5 of us including my self and Bell, and we were watching a chick flick. When our alcohol ran out, we reasoned that we could borrow some Scotch and return it when the bottle shops were open in the morning. Carefully noting the exact letter on the label it was full to. And naturally I forgot.
So back at uni and four hours away, five days later, mum texts to say she's landed and driving home. And then the crashing recollection. Of course, there is nothing to be done. My home crew are also no longer at home. My sister is still underage AND I managed to forget to leave my spare licence for her (if we can't work at the same place without everyone calling us the wrong name, we may as well use it to our advantage). So now I'm waiting for the phone call where she gets faux angry at me, I remind her how often she's gone into my room searching for the Scotch she knows I have in there and buy a bottle on my way home next for us to drink on the verandah.
Everybody wins really.
My mother went to Malaysia recently, to visit my cousin and have a bit of a holiday. My sister is 17 now so she was home alone (much to my Mothers distress, who wanted her to go and stay with Dad). So I decided to go home for a weekend. Partly to spend some time with Bell, and partly to get away from ex-boyfriend-land for a bit.
Saturday night, my home crew got together, and we had appletinis and watched Mean Girls. It was one of those amazing nights where we talked and drunk all night. And in true teenager style, we ran out of vodka and raided the parentals closet. Goodness, can you believe it? Never in my underage years. Never in my teenage years. Never did I do the typical have a party because the parents are away and break into the grog cupboard.
Of course it didn't go down exactly like that. There were 5 of us including my self and Bell, and we were watching a chick flick. When our alcohol ran out, we reasoned that we could borrow some Scotch and return it when the bottle shops were open in the morning. Carefully noting the exact letter on the label it was full to. And naturally I forgot.
So back at uni and four hours away, five days later, mum texts to say she's landed and driving home. And then the crashing recollection. Of course, there is nothing to be done. My home crew are also no longer at home. My sister is still underage AND I managed to forget to leave my spare licence for her (if we can't work at the same place without everyone calling us the wrong name, we may as well use it to our advantage). So now I'm waiting for the phone call where she gets faux angry at me, I remind her how often she's gone into my room searching for the Scotch she knows I have in there and buy a bottle on my way home next for us to drink on the verandah.
Everybody wins really.
Scotch and feeling sorry for myself
Well, it seems like it's time again for my yearly blog update. So Adam and I broke up, which is actually really irrelevent to this blog seeing as I've written one post since we started going out and it was about STI's. Hmm. Unfortunately, I'm used to being the one that ends the relationship. And I was always all "ohh it's so haaarrd. Its so emooootionaaal. I think its harder on the one that has to eeend it". Yeah, wrong. So wrong.
In fairness, it was kinda mutual in the end. But that had a lot to do with me realising I wasn't going to be happy knowing that he wasn't completely happy. And my dignity stepped in when it turned to drunken-break-ups-sober-make-ups territory. Of course, that dignity was glaringly M.I.A for the countless nights that we ended up in the break-up sex territory. And that one that we spent together, just cuddling. Well goodness, that one is just embarrassing.
I think the point I was making was something about the horrible aching loss that I'm not accustomed to that leads to the awful temptation to end up at his door at 2 am suggesting we try and work things out -and then expecting to climb into bed and live happily ever after. But who wants to talk about that? Me, after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?
Don't get me wrong I haven't turned into a complete Damsel. I was my completely usual independant, flirting, problem-causing-and-then-refusing-to-deal-with self throughout the relationship. But then in some horrible irony when things did end, and it was my fault because of all the things I'd done that I shouldn't have, well then I wanted to take it all back, and I lost everything, and it wasn't worth it and -well you'd just think I was a man or something wouldn't you? But I don't want to talk about all the things I've done. Atleast not until after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?
Speaking of people that don't have half a bottle of Scotch- my mother. But that's a story for tomorrow. Who knows, I might actually start writing this thing again.
In fairness, it was kinda mutual in the end. But that had a lot to do with me realising I wasn't going to be happy knowing that he wasn't completely happy. And my dignity stepped in when it turned to drunken-break-ups-sober-make-ups territory. Of course, that dignity was glaringly M.I.A for the countless nights that we ended up in the break-up sex territory. And that one that we spent together, just cuddling. Well goodness, that one is just embarrassing.
I think the point I was making was something about the horrible aching loss that I'm not accustomed to that leads to the awful temptation to end up at his door at 2 am suggesting we try and work things out -and then expecting to climb into bed and live happily ever after. But who wants to talk about that? Me, after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?
Don't get me wrong I haven't turned into a complete Damsel. I was my completely usual independant, flirting, problem-causing-and-then-refusing-to-deal-with self throughout the relationship. But then in some horrible irony when things did end, and it was my fault because of all the things I'd done that I shouldn't have, well then I wanted to take it all back, and I lost everything, and it wasn't worth it and -well you'd just think I was a man or something wouldn't you? But I don't want to talk about all the things I've done. Atleast not until after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?
Speaking of people that don't have half a bottle of Scotch- my mother. But that's a story for tomorrow. Who knows, I might actually start writing this thing again.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
What better way to start a Tuesday than live at the wireless and an STI check
I went to the doctors last week, mainly because my gums bleed every time I brush my teeth. And I'm not talking brush them softer then dumbarse, bleeding. I'm talking, I pick my toothbrush up and they start pissing blood all over the place. And this for a girl whose Dad started to hide her toothbrush because she got over the top obsessive about having spotless teeth. Not good. Not handling that shit at all.
And, nota bene, my father didn't hide it because he was a terrible father (he was, irrelevent) but because it developed into an all consuming obsession. I'd brush them for over an hour, then be brushing again an hour later.
Anyway so I went to the doctor, and thought, what the hell, I'm going to man up and ask about the whole STI thing. Because, it's not like I've been entirely chaste. And the propoganda tells me those things are REAL easy to catch and you NEVER know you have them until one day BAM YOU'RE DEAD AND CAN'T HAVE CHILDREN.
He sent me to have a blood/pee test, and I'm sure I've mentioned before I'm a big baby about blood tests. Huge baby. So I worked myself up about it for a week, and then got up one morning to take my friend to her exam and figured. Well fuck it, I'm awake. I'm going to do this. I'm going to be brave! I'm going straight there. And so I did.
Straight to the wrong place after looking for a park for EVER and appreciate that I hadn't been to the toilet yet at all that day. Because I think there is nothing quite so awkward as sitting in a pathology office waiting to need to pee. So, busting to go to the toilet, I race out of the car into the place and the lady at the office looks at my request just long enough to read what it was for and I ASSUME JUDGE ME STOP JUDGING ME EVERYONE. Because, I was not at all in a paranoid place. And then tell me, that I'm in the wrong place and do I know where Trax is? Trax, the railway hotel. Mental flashback: tripping out of a pub, Nell screaming something, the taste of goon. Our college pub crawl. "uhhh...vaguely"
So onto the next place, by this stage my bladder is seriously threatening to give out. Run through the door, trip over a little, catch myself on the counter, throw down the sheet, cringe a second for the judgement that I'm sure exists and blurt out "and I really really need to pee so can I please do the pee test first".
Of course she wasn't at all judgemental, or if she was, she was proffessional about it. But let me just say, that piece of paper said AIDS on it. And WHAT THE FUCK THAT SHIT LOOKS SCARY. I mean I'm about 100 percent certain that I don't have Aids. I feel there is a slight slight slight possibility that I may have chlamydia. There's some statistic about where I live having the highest rates of it outside of Mars or some shit, and you know, all the stuff about not knowing you have it and dead babies. But this is not Bohemia, I'm not in Rent and I certainly don't have any aqquired immune anythings. It does figure that when you ask for an STI check they run everything, I JUST HOPE EVERYONE THAT HAD TO PROCESS THAT PAPER KNOWS THAT.
So as it was, I sat down for the blood test and three seconds later had no idea where I was or what was going on. I epically freaked out and apparently tried to fight off several staff. Talk about making a scene. I was told where I was and figured that that made sense, so I tried to lie there calmly. Focussing on being calm.
And then the nurse casually says "now there's just a bit of blood on your face"
OK. SO.
Number 1: Why? Why is there blood on my face?
Number 2: I am obviously not in the calmest state right now, I also obviously do not react well to blood and such things, hence me passing out and ending up lying on the floor with blood on my face. Is that really the thing you should be saying?
I somehow managed to respond with a weak smile and an 'oh, that's ok'.
Shortly after this I realised that there was a ridiculously cute guy in the room, rued the fact that he probably thought I had AIDS and figured oh what the fuck, I'm covered in blood and have a boyfriend, he can think I have whatever he wants.
But anyway, all's well that ends well. I called Robson to come pick me up and spent the rest of the day napping and not caring about the impending Soccer World cup. And truly, what else would I do with my Tuesday?
And, nota bene, my father didn't hide it because he was a terrible father (he was, irrelevent) but because it developed into an all consuming obsession. I'd brush them for over an hour, then be brushing again an hour later.
Anyway so I went to the doctor, and thought, what the hell, I'm going to man up and ask about the whole STI thing. Because, it's not like I've been entirely chaste. And the propoganda tells me those things are REAL easy to catch and you NEVER know you have them until one day BAM YOU'RE DEAD AND CAN'T HAVE CHILDREN.
He sent me to have a blood/pee test, and I'm sure I've mentioned before I'm a big baby about blood tests. Huge baby. So I worked myself up about it for a week, and then got up one morning to take my friend to her exam and figured. Well fuck it, I'm awake. I'm going to do this. I'm going to be brave! I'm going straight there. And so I did.
Straight to the wrong place after looking for a park for EVER and appreciate that I hadn't been to the toilet yet at all that day. Because I think there is nothing quite so awkward as sitting in a pathology office waiting to need to pee. So, busting to go to the toilet, I race out of the car into the place and the lady at the office looks at my request just long enough to read what it was for and I ASSUME JUDGE ME STOP JUDGING ME EVERYONE. Because, I was not at all in a paranoid place. And then tell me, that I'm in the wrong place and do I know where Trax is? Trax, the railway hotel. Mental flashback: tripping out of a pub, Nell screaming something, the taste of goon. Our college pub crawl. "uhhh...vaguely"
So onto the next place, by this stage my bladder is seriously threatening to give out. Run through the door, trip over a little, catch myself on the counter, throw down the sheet, cringe a second for the judgement that I'm sure exists and blurt out "and I really really need to pee so can I please do the pee test first".
Of course she wasn't at all judgemental, or if she was, she was proffessional about it. But let me just say, that piece of paper said AIDS on it. And WHAT THE FUCK THAT SHIT LOOKS SCARY. I mean I'm about 100 percent certain that I don't have Aids. I feel there is a slight slight slight possibility that I may have chlamydia. There's some statistic about where I live having the highest rates of it outside of Mars or some shit, and you know, all the stuff about not knowing you have it and dead babies. But this is not Bohemia, I'm not in Rent and I certainly don't have any aqquired immune anythings. It does figure that when you ask for an STI check they run everything, I JUST HOPE EVERYONE THAT HAD TO PROCESS THAT PAPER KNOWS THAT.
So as it was, I sat down for the blood test and three seconds later had no idea where I was or what was going on. I epically freaked out and apparently tried to fight off several staff. Talk about making a scene. I was told where I was and figured that that made sense, so I tried to lie there calmly. Focussing on being calm.
And then the nurse casually says "now there's just a bit of blood on your face"
OK. SO.
Number 1: Why? Why is there blood on my face?
Number 2: I am obviously not in the calmest state right now, I also obviously do not react well to blood and such things, hence me passing out and ending up lying on the floor with blood on my face. Is that really the thing you should be saying?
I somehow managed to respond with a weak smile and an 'oh, that's ok'.
Shortly after this I realised that there was a ridiculously cute guy in the room, rued the fact that he probably thought I had AIDS and figured oh what the fuck, I'm covered in blood and have a boyfriend, he can think I have whatever he wants.
But anyway, all's well that ends well. I called Robson to come pick me up and spent the rest of the day napping and not caring about the impending Soccer World cup. And truly, what else would I do with my Tuesday?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
She brought us all home, one last time.
I got out of bed at 7.30 this morning, which is a somewhat odd experience. I'm sure I posted here once before about my Oma getting sick. And the wheels being set in motion for her 14 sibling wide, 4 generation long family to all find out, come home, and organise what must be organised.
I woke with a phone call from Dad, oddly enough I didn't realise it was 7.30 and spent the first bit of the conversation trying to pretend he didn't wake me up (assuming I'd slept to some ridiculous time like midday for him to be ringing me). Oma's health had been slowly deteriorating over the past year, to the point where sometimes now she isn't aware of reality and sometimes she is. This morning however, she had gone into a complete state of non responsiveness, still breathing but not communicating. And her breathing wasn't right.
Like clockwork the familiar organisations all came pouring out in Dad's shaking voice. Could I ring Anna, he had to call Liz, Michael had spoken to Mary and they couldn't get onto Alex. Katy's down there and he'll get down there as soon as he hears back from Ed and Jus. I hung up the phone and picked up my mobile to call Anna, I had three missed calls from Gebe which made me realise it was serious. My cousin was ringing me at Seven in the morning. I was in the car and on my way home from Armidale within the time it took to finish the multitude of phone calls. I managed to forget my laptop, any clothes, and shoes. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the comforting thought that I wasn't alone. Liz and Neil were on their way from Parkes, Mary, Greg & Curly from Penrith, Agy from Canberra, Big John from Goulbourn, Eddy from Port Mac, and Justine from Sydney.
Mez called at 10 to make sure I knew. I responded to his "hey how are you?" with "I'm on my way home" to save having to go into it, the horrible feeling of having to tell someone is the worst. "Oh, good. Thank God. I just wanted to make sure you know" "yeah I do, I'll be there soon...you ok?" "yeah, I think. You?" "Same" "Annes in the air, there's no way we can tell her before she lands' 'shit I forgot she was coming". Add Anne from Holland to the list. Talking to my two closest cousins, in age and in friendship was what really set the feeling going. This was big. The severity of a situation in our family can be somewhat measured by how much we pull together for support. It was nothing short of the worst car trip of my life. It's weird how my families support and love can make me feel comforted and at home, but shit scared at the same time.
I text mum to let her know I was home safe as soon as I drove into town, and headed down to the school to pick Anna up, as we had planned, and go to see Oma. My phone rung as I turned into the street the school was on and it was Mum, somewhat strained, trying to tell me to call Dad before I went into school. I was all, "Mum, it's planned, it's fine, stay out." "I just.. i just call him first. I don't know if they are at school...." and then I snapped into mild hysteria. "Do you know something? Mum what do you know? what happened? MUM TELL ME NOW. TELL ME I-" and then I dropped the phone as I saw Dad's car parked at the school and Dad sitting in the drivers seat with the door slightly ajar. Waiting. It all fell into place. He was waiting for me. Waiting until I drove to where Anna had told him we'd planned so he could tell me in person. Not wanting to call me at 10.30 when it happened because I was on the road and still had 3 hours to drive alone. Anna not telling Mum, because Dad said not to just yet, so there would be no chance of me finding out until I was safely home. Mum realising something was wrong when she talked to Anna anyway and wanting to stop me wandering into school to find it void of my relatives.
My whole world didn't come crashing down right then. It partly crashed a few years earlier when it was decided Oma had to go into a nursing home. Months after that it crashed more, when she had a mini-stroke. Again when I realised that her mind wouldn't quite be the same. And every time she couldn't recognise me, or asked where Opa was, or spoke to me in dutch and waited for me to reply. The day she became bedridden. Last Sunday when I couldn't get a linear conversation to happen with her at all, except when I left and said I loved her in dutch and she took a long breath in, paused for a few minutes and managed to say she loved me too. Yesterday when Dad called to let me know she seemed worse. This morning when he called to say she was barely conscious. And it would again later today when I was on my own with Mum, and it all hit me again, and she said all the wrong things and I yelled and cried and kicked things and drove down to Dads uncontrollably crying. And tonight when I realised, this was the last time we'd all be called home. But at the moment that Dad walked over to me, pulled me into a hug and said 'she's gone', part of my world came crashing down.
We went into school and all my old teachers gave me that painful sympathy face. I saw Dommer, my sister and cousin Dom's delighful friend, also Dom's partner in crime and name-sharer. He told me 'all the crazydutchlastname kids are in the first seminar room' (Yes, I'm still afraid of this blog being found). Anna, Demi, Bronte, Mez, Dom and Jacob all hugged me. We joked about how we take up a whole seminar room and it's not even close to all of us and me and Bronte cried a little. And then my sister told me 'Liv, I cried. I balled my eyes out.' and proceeded to break my heart.
I told Dad I'd call her that morning. It seems odd to most people, but it made perfect sense to me. My Dad had so many people to ring, and so much to organise, and he wanted to get down to the nursing home. Anna was the one person I could actually take off his back. We are close, we get each other, and besides, we both know Anna never gets emotional about anything. Things just don't bother her. I mean, the everyday things do, like when her one-handed slut friend with a boyfriend that isn't really a friend hooks up with our friend that just became a teacher. Or when good television isn't on because of the tennis. But she doesn't cry about people. It's not that she doesnt care. It's just how she's always been. So I rung her as planned, she said she'd rather just wait till I get here to go see Oma and we organised for me to pick her up from school. I told her I was gonna go so i could get on the road and she said see you soon. "and Bell..are you ok?" "yeah. ..you know how I am." And she really was fine. "Dude one day you're going to get a gun and go shoot a whole bunch of people" "hahahaha probably" "just sayin...anyway I'll see you soon".
She went off to school, with it on her mind, but fine nonetheless. And then in religion they prayed, and it reminded her of Oma (if you'd met my grandparents, you'd understand). So she started telling her friend Mady about it and next minute there is a knock on the door and Mez appears, asking Mr Thomas if he can see Anna. She's like hmm, ok.. and starts to walk to the door when Mez realises Dom was in the same class. "Oh, and Dominic too" .....oh fuck. The three of them walked in silence. James, usually the one to be grinning about anything managed to say "There are people waiting down at the office" and that was it. Anna's head was spinning and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She said it was the longest walk of her life, and it felt like the already seemingly endless path to the office went for even longer. Dom leaned into her and said in the most serious, most unlike Dom voice she'd ever heard "this isn't good, is it." "nope." And as they got closer to the office they made out familiar shapes at the office. Dad, John&Tanya, Michael&Colleen, Demi, Bronte, Jacob. And when Dad broke the news that she already knew in her heart to her, she fell into his arms and balled her eyes out. And she felt him start to cry too. And when she told me that, especially the last bit, on the way to get pizza tonight, my heart broke into a thousand pieces.
To my darling Oma, Ik houd van u, I love you, Rest in Peace. And I'm sorry my dutch spelling is so terrible, one day I'll learn it properly.
I woke with a phone call from Dad, oddly enough I didn't realise it was 7.30 and spent the first bit of the conversation trying to pretend he didn't wake me up (assuming I'd slept to some ridiculous time like midday for him to be ringing me). Oma's health had been slowly deteriorating over the past year, to the point where sometimes now she isn't aware of reality and sometimes she is. This morning however, she had gone into a complete state of non responsiveness, still breathing but not communicating. And her breathing wasn't right.
Like clockwork the familiar organisations all came pouring out in Dad's shaking voice. Could I ring Anna, he had to call Liz, Michael had spoken to Mary and they couldn't get onto Alex. Katy's down there and he'll get down there as soon as he hears back from Ed and Jus. I hung up the phone and picked up my mobile to call Anna, I had three missed calls from Gebe which made me realise it was serious. My cousin was ringing me at Seven in the morning. I was in the car and on my way home from Armidale within the time it took to finish the multitude of phone calls. I managed to forget my laptop, any clothes, and shoes. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the comforting thought that I wasn't alone. Liz and Neil were on their way from Parkes, Mary, Greg & Curly from Penrith, Agy from Canberra, Big John from Goulbourn, Eddy from Port Mac, and Justine from Sydney.
Mez called at 10 to make sure I knew. I responded to his "hey how are you?" with "I'm on my way home" to save having to go into it, the horrible feeling of having to tell someone is the worst. "Oh, good. Thank God. I just wanted to make sure you know" "yeah I do, I'll be there soon...you ok?" "yeah, I think. You?" "Same" "Annes in the air, there's no way we can tell her before she lands' 'shit I forgot she was coming". Add Anne from Holland to the list. Talking to my two closest cousins, in age and in friendship was what really set the feeling going. This was big. The severity of a situation in our family can be somewhat measured by how much we pull together for support. It was nothing short of the worst car trip of my life. It's weird how my families support and love can make me feel comforted and at home, but shit scared at the same time.
I text mum to let her know I was home safe as soon as I drove into town, and headed down to the school to pick Anna up, as we had planned, and go to see Oma. My phone rung as I turned into the street the school was on and it was Mum, somewhat strained, trying to tell me to call Dad before I went into school. I was all, "Mum, it's planned, it's fine, stay out." "I just.. i just call him first. I don't know if they are at school...." and then I snapped into mild hysteria. "Do you know something? Mum what do you know? what happened? MUM TELL ME NOW. TELL ME I-" and then I dropped the phone as I saw Dad's car parked at the school and Dad sitting in the drivers seat with the door slightly ajar. Waiting. It all fell into place. He was waiting for me. Waiting until I drove to where Anna had told him we'd planned so he could tell me in person. Not wanting to call me at 10.30 when it happened because I was on the road and still had 3 hours to drive alone. Anna not telling Mum, because Dad said not to just yet, so there would be no chance of me finding out until I was safely home. Mum realising something was wrong when she talked to Anna anyway and wanting to stop me wandering into school to find it void of my relatives.
My whole world didn't come crashing down right then. It partly crashed a few years earlier when it was decided Oma had to go into a nursing home. Months after that it crashed more, when she had a mini-stroke. Again when I realised that her mind wouldn't quite be the same. And every time she couldn't recognise me, or asked where Opa was, or spoke to me in dutch and waited for me to reply. The day she became bedridden. Last Sunday when I couldn't get a linear conversation to happen with her at all, except when I left and said I loved her in dutch and she took a long breath in, paused for a few minutes and managed to say she loved me too. Yesterday when Dad called to let me know she seemed worse. This morning when he called to say she was barely conscious. And it would again later today when I was on my own with Mum, and it all hit me again, and she said all the wrong things and I yelled and cried and kicked things and drove down to Dads uncontrollably crying. And tonight when I realised, this was the last time we'd all be called home. But at the moment that Dad walked over to me, pulled me into a hug and said 'she's gone', part of my world came crashing down.
We went into school and all my old teachers gave me that painful sympathy face. I saw Dommer, my sister and cousin Dom's delighful friend, also Dom's partner in crime and name-sharer. He told me 'all the crazydutchlastname kids are in the first seminar room' (Yes, I'm still afraid of this blog being found). Anna, Demi, Bronte, Mez, Dom and Jacob all hugged me. We joked about how we take up a whole seminar room and it's not even close to all of us and me and Bronte cried a little. And then my sister told me 'Liv, I cried. I balled my eyes out.' and proceeded to break my heart.
I told Dad I'd call her that morning. It seems odd to most people, but it made perfect sense to me. My Dad had so many people to ring, and so much to organise, and he wanted to get down to the nursing home. Anna was the one person I could actually take off his back. We are close, we get each other, and besides, we both know Anna never gets emotional about anything. Things just don't bother her. I mean, the everyday things do, like when her one-handed slut friend with a boyfriend that isn't really a friend hooks up with our friend that just became a teacher. Or when good television isn't on because of the tennis. But she doesn't cry about people. It's not that she doesnt care. It's just how she's always been. So I rung her as planned, she said she'd rather just wait till I get here to go see Oma and we organised for me to pick her up from school. I told her I was gonna go so i could get on the road and she said see you soon. "and Bell..are you ok?" "yeah. ..you know how I am." And she really was fine. "Dude one day you're going to get a gun and go shoot a whole bunch of people" "hahahaha probably" "just sayin...anyway I'll see you soon".
She went off to school, with it on her mind, but fine nonetheless. And then in religion they prayed, and it reminded her of Oma (if you'd met my grandparents, you'd understand). So she started telling her friend Mady about it and next minute there is a knock on the door and Mez appears, asking Mr Thomas if he can see Anna. She's like hmm, ok.. and starts to walk to the door when Mez realises Dom was in the same class. "Oh, and Dominic too" .....oh fuck. The three of them walked in silence. James, usually the one to be grinning about anything managed to say "There are people waiting down at the office" and that was it. Anna's head was spinning and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She said it was the longest walk of her life, and it felt like the already seemingly endless path to the office went for even longer. Dom leaned into her and said in the most serious, most unlike Dom voice she'd ever heard "this isn't good, is it." "nope." And as they got closer to the office they made out familiar shapes at the office. Dad, John&Tanya, Michael&Colleen, Demi, Bronte, Jacob. And when Dad broke the news that she already knew in her heart to her, she fell into his arms and balled her eyes out. And she felt him start to cry too. And when she told me that, especially the last bit, on the way to get pizza tonight, my heart broke into a thousand pieces.
To my darling Oma, Ik houd van u, I love you, Rest in Peace. And I'm sorry my dutch spelling is so terrible, one day I'll learn it properly.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
You could wash a car in those boots!
I'm reviving my blog, in the form of top ten lists.
So...
Ten Reasons You Shouldn't Employ Me As Your Babysitter
1. I just ordered a "goon sunrise" as if it is a perfectly respectable drink.
2. I repeatedly and excessively told you throughout the night I'M REALLY GOOD WITH CHILDREN! REALLY GOOD! I LOVE THEM!.
3. I dirty danced a guy on the dfloor in front of you, followed by macking on with him for quite some time and not doing anything about the fact that he was noticably groping me.
4. Followed by me turning around, still being somewhat groped by said guy and proclaiming, "I swear I'm really good with children!!"
5. I couldn't quite remember my phone number. I got there eventually, but it did take three tries.
6. I'm wearing a beanie and glasses which are clearly not mine. Well the glasses at least are clearly not mine as I'm currently squinting over them to look at you.
7. I introduced myself as God.
8. I snuck an underager in here. Mostly by just talking alot and hence confusing the security guards into thinking they'd checked her ID. Twice.
9. You definitely saw me crawling under a table. But this was only to retrieve my jacket. I may have shouted a little trying to explain this.
10. I swapped shoes with a guy wearing cowboy boots and wore them around for the rest of the evening, after he proclaimed "you could wash a car in those boots!". I possibly repeated this proclamation. Several times.
So...
Ten Reasons You Shouldn't Employ Me As Your Babysitter
1. I just ordered a "goon sunrise" as if it is a perfectly respectable drink.
2. I repeatedly and excessively told you throughout the night I'M REALLY GOOD WITH CHILDREN! REALLY GOOD! I LOVE THEM!.
3. I dirty danced a guy on the dfloor in front of you, followed by macking on with him for quite some time and not doing anything about the fact that he was noticably groping me.
4. Followed by me turning around, still being somewhat groped by said guy and proclaiming, "I swear I'm really good with children!!"
5. I couldn't quite remember my phone number. I got there eventually, but it did take three tries.
6. I'm wearing a beanie and glasses which are clearly not mine. Well the glasses at least are clearly not mine as I'm currently squinting over them to look at you.
7. I introduced myself as God.
8. I snuck an underager in here. Mostly by just talking alot and hence confusing the security guards into thinking they'd checked her ID. Twice.
9. You definitely saw me crawling under a table. But this was only to retrieve my jacket. I may have shouted a little trying to explain this.
10. I swapped shoes with a guy wearing cowboy boots and wore them around for the rest of the evening, after he proclaimed "you could wash a car in those boots!". I possibly repeated this proclamation. Several times.
edit: I somehow forgot to add the point at which I asked "are you like the babysitters club? I love the babysitters club. Dawn was my favourite"
But, despite all of that, I maintain that I am actually a ridiculously great babysitter. Because I do babysit SOBER. And being a small child at heart I am in turn, awesome with small children. I'll keep you posted as to whether I get the job...
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