So What Price Love Right?

Nothing in this life comes free. Theres no such thing as a free lunch. The buy one get one free deal always makes you pay, and the too good to be true offer, is always too good to actually be true. But what price do we pay for love people?

This friend of mine, lets call her Jayne, though why Im even friends with her is beyond me, but I digress. This friend of mine Jayne, has resisted love for the better part of her adult years. Why she does that is beyond me, but thats because I know too much. See I've also been a single parent and the resistance of anything and everything is what comes naturally to us single mummies. We resist what we see everyday. Ok, so I soft of plagirised *oooh someone should spell that one for me* Dr Hannibal there, in that we covet what we see everyday. Same with us single mummies, we covet, we want, we dream, we have the damn thing handed to us and yet we still resist what we covet, want, dream every single day.......but Im not one to blog about my friends predicaments, because Im the princess and Im far more important anyway.

Today I fed my second dog a corn cob. Nothing too out of the ordinary you say? Yeah, cept this dog inhales everything, doesnt chew anything and now Im faced with a problem. An entire corn cob has to exit this dog sometime in the next two days. You know that corn never breaks down through the digestive system right? So that corn cob is wanna gonna come out whole. And I hate to break it to anyone, but a dogs anus isnt that big. Im going to find one dog in severe amounts of grunting type pain in the next few days.......and the only way thats gonna fix itself is if that corn cob makes it out..........Lets think about that for a second. Dogs anus, this size (0), corn cob this size (O). This (O) does not go into this (0) no matter how hard you try. Im gonna have to get it out.

And so I have come full circle. What price love? I love my man who owns this dog. I fed the dog. Thus, It must also go that I love the dog. And loving someone, or soemthing, must include all the part of the someone or the something, which means if I love him, and I love his dog, then I must love his dogs anus. But the dogs anus is too damn small, cos no corn cob is gonna fit out that anus. And Im gonna have to go in after it.

And me, with my hand fair up a dogs ass, is about as proof of love as you can get......Id like to resist, but whats the point? Its gonna hurt if I dont, and its gonna hurt if I do.

Todays thought for this very second? Yeah Jayne.....even Im surprised that my second dogs anus has any sort of bearing on your love life, but alas, there it is. I can resist, but whats that gonna get me? A dog who's ass hurts. You can resist, but whats it gonna get you? Possibly not a dogs sore anus, but soemthing is gonna hurt........
EEEEwwwwww, say it with me. EEEEEwwww. Now IM just like Jayne. Im resisting.

So That Will Show Me Wont It Right?

Well, its back to that bastard husband of mine. Yes Yes I know. Divorce, get one. Im working on it people. Im working on it. Anyways........

So he phones me yesterday and leaves a voicemail saying Yeah Happy Mothers Day. What the?? Whatever. Then he phones me again later in the evening. Now, after yesterdays phonecall I had decided that all future phone calls would go something like this:

ring ring ring ring
Me: Hello
Him: Whatever rot spills out of his mouth
Me: There is insufficient funds to continue this call. Please deposit a substantial amount of money and try again.


Which I thought was quite to the point and not more than he deserved anyway. However, the conversation went like this:

ring ring ring ring
Me: hello
Him: yeah Im gonna top myself tomorrow
Me: Ok, but can you send money first?


As Jayne points out to me, Im a total bitch and as I point out to Jayne, and anyone else for that matter, Id much rather be a widow than a divorcee anyway. Fact, Ive been saying it for years. Hardly the point. What sort of man lays that kind of guilt trip on someone? Its none of my business what he does. Hell, he made that clear four years ago. Why doesnt he ring that woman he was shacked up with for 2 years while I was out in the cold bouncing my fine ass on bankruptcy? You know why he doesnt ring her though......cos she doesnt give a shit. I apparently get the phonecall because Im his wife. I dont get the money though for being his wife. I dont get any of the supposed perks that come with being someones wife. I just get the crap layed on me when he feels like it.

Thought for the wee hours of the morning? That man will do anything to get out of giving me my money.

So How Did That Happen Right??

As you all know, Ive got this bastard husband right. Who left me like four years ago. NOt only left me, actually left me to rot. Penniless even. To the point where I couldnt even send the kids to school one week, cos I didnt have the money to buy the food for the lunches. See, my bastard husband, bless his lil heart, was all for family, thats why he did the runner and left us to starve while he was living it high on the hog *literally, the man is into pig hunting*, and we, his dear beloved wife and very own flesh and blood daughter, were two seconds away from starving. Theres my bastsard husband, makin his hundred grand a year in a job I freakin sourced for him and refusing to part with any of it .....and theres me with his pride and joy begging off anyone I can find in order to feed us.

Now...get this.......Now that im about to move in with my beloved ever so hot friend of 18 years ago, Ive morphed into the bitch who left Him and totally ruined HIS life!!! What the? How the fuck did that happen?

I could go on and on....i could. I just couldnt be assed.

Note to self....divorce, get one. KNow why? Cos no divorce is gonna be granted these days without plans having been put into place for the provision of the children of the marriage. Which includes financial arrangements. So, he is screwed. And thats just how I like him. Cos hes gonna have to pay up some money. Hell he's even gonna have to fess up hes been rippin the government off by deliberately not doing tax returns in order to get out of paying his 18% of a hundred grand for the last four years.

So Money Makes The World Go Round Right

There can be no truer statement. I know this, because with a lack of money, your world has a habit of not turning at all. Or turning, but not in a direction you might like.

Not that many years ago, money was just this thing of mine that was in the bank. I didnt much care for it, there it just was. Didnt matter what I did, it was just there. Faithfully every week, there it was. Like an old dog that knows its place is right at your feet, where its always been. Where its always going to be. But one day I woke up, went to the bank and it wasnt there anymore. A sad sad day at the time. You know a sadder day than that? Yeah, every day after that one when you go to the bank and your friend money is not there. Yes, money and I used to be friends. We spent so much time together. We went out together. We made plans together. Hell, we did spontaneous things together, at the drop of a hat we would take not only ourselves, but our kids and our husband, as well as our husbands parents off on four day weekends to Fraser Island where we would think nothing of dropping five grand on accommodation, barge fee's, dinners out and the odd bottle of wine for no other reason than the pure enjoyment of having done so. And.....get this part, after the weekend? There'd my money be in the bank.....

Im not a great fan of money at the best of times. Ive never bowed down to it, Ive never set up a shiny altar to idolise it in, and Ive never really given much of a shit about it really. NOt a good friend to money am I? No wonder its no longer friends with me. But lately, lately IVe come to realise that I miss money. And the good times we used to have together. I miss the plans we used to make together. Cos money, bless its lil heart, was up for anything. You wanna blow some dollars on a drum kit for number one son money? Hell yes, lets do it. You wanna pay some bills this week money? You bet, money would say. You wanna buy 2 acres in a lil country town money? What are we waiting for money would say. What say we get a new dress money? Thats exactly what we should do money would say, hell lets get two, you deserve it! How bout a new car money? How would that be?? Why that would be right up my alley, money would say.

Ive just been on the phone with bbh2, who's lil heart we are not blessing at the moment. See, money and I bought him a 25 thousand dollar Landcruiser ute bout 6 years ago, because, see, Landcruiser is indestructible, last for fucking ever, always keeps going, workhorses they are........and today he tells me he has to get a new ute cos his is like a deadhorse these days. That was right after I said to him that he should remember a time way back when he needed my money to be his friend and now I would like his money to be my friend. Because I dont have any money friend at present.

Im always amazed at husbands, and ex husbands and their inability to see anything past the end of their fucking hands out. When money wasnt his friend, he was all for being friends with my money. But now, when I want to be friends with his money, he says......get this.......whats in it for me? Whats in it for you? WHATS IN IT FOR YOU?? How bout a lil good karma because when you wanted a fucking offshore fishing boat for thirty grand whos money where you friends with??? When you wanted not one, but two fucking harley's, whos money where you friends with? And, sunshine, while youve gotten me started....what the fuck was in it for me? Not a damn thing. I dont have a bike licence, I dont have a boat licence, wasnt gonna do me any good, cept cost me more fucking money cos everyone knows that boats and bikes are nothing more than money pits, and beings as how IM the only one who has a friend called money who's gonna be throwing money in the pit? Yeah, me. Never mind the fact you fucked off and left me penniliess to rot in hell while you used my money friend to get you where you wanted to be, never mind that you have been makin a hundred grand a year and not parting with any of it and leaving me to work out 101 things to feed a family with rice as the main ingredient. Whats in it for you? Who the fuck cares whats in it for you these days. But I'll tell you whats not in it for you. Whats not in it for you, is what you want. Which is me, and more precisely, whats between my legs. Cos if you actually wanted me, you wouldnt hve fucked off and left me in the first place, or you might have fucked off and left me int he first place, but you wouldnt have left me to rot while you did it, or you may have fucked off and left me in the first place and you may have left me to rot, but you would have woken up to yourself and sent some fucking friends round to take care of me, some fucking money friends you fucking wanker.

My husband, not bless his fucking lil heart, thinks Im a whore. He treats me like a whore, he speaks to me like a whore, and he fucking tries to buy me like a whore. Thats the thing with my husband, if you aint sucking his cock, he aint throwing any money at you, regardless of the fact you are single handedly raising his daughter on loose fucking change. Basically, long as Im prepared to fuck him at his discretion, he'll give me money. Long as Im prepared to suck his cock, he'll take me out to dinner. And if I swallow at the end, I'll get a fucking bonus new dress.

So heres the thing.....................if money makes the world go round, I better get used to standing in the one spot. And thats not that hard to do, ive been doing it for years now. Cept, lately.........lately I wouldnt mind moving on.

THOUGHT FOR TODAY? I bought a new dress already bbh2, and I didnt have to swallow to get it.

So Stuff Right

Stuff. What a word. Great stuff. Stuff that happens. Shit stuff. Stuff it. Stuff that accumulates. Stuff that disappears. Stuff things away. Stuff is a word worth using.

Ive been into my stuff today. Actual stuff. Stuff that may have been great, or shit, definitely stuff that ought to have disappeared but accumulated itself leaving me no choice but to stuff it into a bag and dispose of it. Why do we have so much stuff?

Ive never been a hoarder. I dont know why. I rarely get attached to things I cant do without, until I get attached to things I cant do without then I never ever ever get rid of it. But mostly, stuff is just stuff and I dont need it anyway. Ive moved an awful lot in my life so Im always getting rid of stuff I wonder why I ever had. I like nice, clean, open surfaces with no stuff on it. I dont believe that cleaning up is the moving of stuff from one place to another. Thats tidying up. Cleaning up is getting rid of stuff totally, not just re homing it elsewhere.

I dont like stuff. I know. Sounds strange doesnt it? But stuff bothers me. Ive learnt over the years that you dont actually need half the stuff you have, in fact, you could probably be a lot better off if you didnt have half the stuff in the first place. Hey, dont get me wrong, I like pretty things. Im not totally against stuff. Soemtimes I think I want stuff, only to have it and then wonder why I have it, then I just get rid of it. Ok, so Im fickle. Im fine with that. In fact, I dont give a stuff. Its only very occasionally I say to myself....gee, I could really use a, *insert stuff Ive just gotten rid of* wish I hada kept that .......but then I survive totally fine without it which just reiterates that I never needed it in the first place.

Im all for getting rid of stuff you dont need. And keepin the stuff you really want to keep, or do need, not usually the same thing Ive learnt. Hardly the point. Point is....the only stuff you really need, is, to paraphrase my mate Bono a little....all that you cant leave behind. And Im leaving an awful lot of stuff behind these days. An awful lot of stuff. Dont need it. Dont want it. NO idea why I ever had it or kept it in the first place.

Thought for today....the stuff dreams are made of

So OH I Have Another Problem Now Right

Today, I rolled out of bed. OK thats a lie. I stood up from my laying on the floor because I dont actually have a bed. Ok, thats also a lie. I first got to my knee's, amid a pile of groaning and moaning, then I waited there a while before pushing myself half up to a crouch and waiting there for what seemed an eternity before being able to extend myself to my full height..............and thats when it hit me. Im fucking cold man.

Not cold hearted, I dont care what those bastard husbands of mine say, but actually cold. Like cold assed type cold. Hell I was under the feather doona last night, this does not look good for winter. Not the point. Point I was gonna make here was this.....It was cold last night, it was cold this morning, I was out of the trakkys and the flanny and the ugg boots for all of about four hours today and now IM about to head back into them. And its only the end of April. Which reminds me, its bastard husband number ones birthday today and also my daddy's birthday. Note to self, make a phonecall. ACtually, note to self: has bbh1 pissed me off lately? hell yes he has, so make that note a make two phonecalls...might as well return the favour......where was I?

Oh yes.......Im not a fan of cold weather. Im not a fan of being cold. I whinge when its cold. I whinge a fucking lot when its cold. I get cranky. I get pissed off. I get irrational. And I get miserable.

I also get to share the bed with PreciousPrincessJunior cos she doesnt like to be cold either. At least she isnt complaining about my current sleeping attire. I know, you thought I was going to make it through a whole blog without mentioning someone didnt you? Wrong! As if I would. In fact, Id go so far as to suggest that more of these blogs have that special someone mentioned in them than not. So there. Back to the point.....Im wearing a pre worn, so smells like already, tshirt I stole off my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago. And PreciousPrincessJunior says I smell goooooood. If I catch her makin eyes at my man I'll feed her brussel sprouts for dinner........

So, thought for this second.....electric blanket, break it out now?

So Now I Have This Problem Right

Ive just spent ten days wrapped up in the hhhhot arms of my ever so hhhhot friend of 18 years ago, and when I say ten days, I dont mean ten days, I mean ten lots of 24 hours, alllllll of the day type ten days.

For those of you who aren't actually incurable romantics, best to look away now, cos Im about to spill a few lil secrets here that may cause you to vomit from the sickly sweetness of it all.

When I said ten days, I meant ten whole days. That man was never out of touching distance the whole time. Unless he was in the shower, and even then there was the incident......which I will not tell you about, suffice to say, even the shower wasnt alone time. For him or me. Not the point. Point is....even after a shower, we would come running out of the bathroom and straight into each others arms.

My problem now is......I feel so empty. I cant sleep. I dont know if Ive made matters worse by bringing home his tshirt which he's pre worn so I can have his smell around me ....perhaps that wasnt a good idea. Hey you all can shut up. I warned you it was gonna be sickly sweet in here today didnt I?

So my problem, being the one where my beautiful gorgeous Yang is not within reaching distance and Im miserable. Ive lost all will to live. IN fact, Im fairly certain the life has been totally sucked out of me. Its keeping me awake, its driving me crazy, though to be fair, that may have been the two days I just spent locked in the car with the kids.........whatever. The thing is........Im miserable.

Thought for this second?.....tissues, thankfully Gaanz has an obsession with buying boxes and boxes of them, I may just use some for a change.

Soooo Oh and He Bought Me Flowers Right

Just neglected to mention that earlier .........and Im not totally sure what that thingy in the middle is al about...the one that says...So I checked wit...wht the hell is that? Oh yes, thats because im on My Yang's laptop and I dont type well on those things..,..

Thought for this second.....Ying, and yang baby.....Ying and Yang, ask me for the photos.....

So I Checked With Jayne Right

And we are in agreeance that my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago, my hhhhhot hot man I introduced to my mother, he who was always known as 'our' boyfriend is now officially known as my Yang.

Thats the Yang to my Ying. My other half. My completes me. And you know what? I fucking deserve him. Cos Ive been through a nasty nightmare or two in my life, ok, to be fair, BBH1 wasnt as nasty as BBH2 but thats hardly the point. The point is.........my Yang is what Ive been missing all this time. I knew it. You knew it. Everyone knew it, even Jayne, who cried by the way when I just phoned her to fess up that I totally love him and that is why Im friends with her. Cos she cries when Im happy. I soooo hope its because she's at least as happy for me as I am being me and not because she's jealous as all hell, which she should be, cos my Yang is the perfect man. And she knows it.

Ok, so I just wanted to fess that up. Im officially more than giving the boy a chance. Im officially more than opening up. Im officially weilding those scissors he gave me with care and detail. Which is not how I would usually weild scissors around some man's weapon of love but this time, thats what Im doing. Im takin that faith and trust on board and Im living the dream.

Note to all you blog readers..........sometimes you just got to take that chance, you just got to go home again and you just got to trim those pubes......

So I Checked Wt

So Faith and Trust Rule In Relationships Right?

No relationship can survive without faith and trust. Theres your average trust, where you just accept that your hot man isnt actually fucking everything that moves when your not looking. Theres your average faith when you just accept that you dont know where your relationship is, where its going, or whats going to happen when you get there, but you just accept that its all good and happily play along anyway.

Then theres the faith and trust that comes when your hot man hands you the scissors and says "babe, can you trim my pubes for me?". That my dear blog readers, is the ultimate in faith and trust. How often does a man hand you a pair of scissors and actually tell you you to knock yourself out with them somewhere near his weapon of love???

Which brings me to two points. I must now confess that recently I find myself wrapped up in one of those faith type relationships. yep you heard it here first people. im officially calling myself in a relationship. Shit, Jayne, didnt see that coming did you? This Precious Princess is soooooo in love with our boyfriend she actually went and changed his status from 'our' boyfriend to 'my' boyfriend. Jayne is not going to be happy. I dont even know why Im friends with her. Oh yes, thats right. Im friends with Jayne because she said you know what Princess.......go for it. So I did. And thats how I find myself with a pair of scissors in hand, in Western Australia, fully three states away from my usual place of residence and loving every second of my journey.

That ever so hot friend of 18 years ago? He's mine. MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE Jayne. I know he's mine Jayne because this last week, I did his washing, and right now, Im frantically cookin up a casserole to leave in the freezer for him because Im worried he wont eat right. Im pathetic arent I? Thats ok, I dont care what you want to call me, because I.....my dear dear blog readers, and absolutely positively deadset, not a word of a lie, head over heels, full on, you bet your ass in love with my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago. But you lot knew that already didnt you? You lot knew that a month or two back didnt you? Ok, so I might just be fessing that part up to myself right now, but thats ok, because I kind of like it. And him. Hes ever so hhhhhot. You wanna know how hot he is? I introduced him to my mother........uh huh. Thats how hhhhhot he is, and thats how in love I am. Who takes just any old 18 year old friend home to mother? Ive got a bit of a tradition going on here....Ive only ever introduced two people to my mother as 'my' boyfriend, and both of them I married. Ok, so I ended up divorced both times, thats a tradition Im not planning on keeping up, the tradition I dont mind having is ....... marrying the man I introduce to my mother. So ner. Un pack the waterweave taffeta dress with the puffy sleeves and the sweetheart neckline Jayne, you and me, we are going to a wedding. MINE. MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE.

Back to me now......cos Im my favourite subject right now, well, next to my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago who is officially my boyfriend, but alas, I find myself in a quandary. Im too old to have a boyfriend. I need to name him. I shall call him my.......hang on, I gotta check with Jayne for clarification on this one.....back in a second...

Thought for this second....*im not sure, im just checkin with Jayne, gimmmie a second*

So you want cream with that cookie right?

The other day I was chatting with our boyfriend and just happened to mention my cookie *which has been kept in the jar a long time now dammit*. My cookie. Well Ive got news for you lot. After the beautician hacked her way through the forestry of tasmania, that cookie of mine? Its in a fit state to be seen in private again. Yay. Our boyfriend suggested he might like to butter my biscuit.

See, our boyfriend, hes just too polite. Its only very rarely I get knocked off my feet with the stuff that comes out of his mouth. Ok, i always get knocked off my feet when his mouth is moving but that isnt the point. The point is, he wants to butter my biscuit. I have from this second, decided that my cookie is no longer, it shall be forever referred to as my biscuit. And I fervently pray that it gets buttered some time in the near future.

But it got me to thinking, some of the very worst and some of the very best things Ive ever heard have not actually been about sweet things like biscuits and cookies. So why do I now consider this particular not very sweet thing at all, to be very sweet? Cos it came from the mouth I never actually expected to say such things. I guess its time for me to realise our boyfriend isnt the pimply faced teenager he was 18 years ago. See, 18 years ago, nothing like that would have dared to venture forth from his mouth. His mouth was made for sweet beautiful things * like my mouth dammit, shut up Jayne*. And now its all grown up. I have to admit, the idea fairly excites me. Remember I was telling you how he always managed to say exactly the right thing at exactly the right time? Buttering my biscuit would not have been the right thing 18 years ago, today however, its sooooooooo the right thing. He's good isnt he?

Unlike that husband of mine who phoned today, mentioned he misses me and suggested I fly up to Darwin this weekend.....? Hello??? Is anyone home in there??? The only sweet thing to come out of his mouth is, here have some money. And thats about all I can ever hope for from him really isnt it? Him saying he will send me some money. Not the actual money of course. Just the saying he will part. I think its kind of funny he actually still thinks Im gonna fly up to his place for a weekend. Im not about to fly around for a weekend. I know whats on his mind...and I think it might involve a little butter on my biscuit, well tuff luck sunshine! You gave the biscuit away, now you cant butter it.

Chatting with an old friend today, she says, what you need Princess is a man to spoil you. Hell yes I do. I wanna be spoiled. And spoilt. And I want it now.

Thought for this second...>I want my biscuit and I want it buttered too.

So I Need To Relieve Myself Right

The last two days Ive spent with a hot water bottle strapped tomy back, unknown untold drugs down my throat and my mobile phone in my hand so I can phone Number One Son to come and 'help mummy'. Mummy, has done her back again. Mummy needs a new one. Mummy isnt about to get one and I havent had a realllly bad back moment in a good 6 months now so all in all Im pretty pleased with myself. However, in just two days, Im drivin my ass to qld, palmin my kids off on their fathers, or their fatheres families and havin my self a holiday, and nothing is going to get in my way of it.

Jayne says possibly my chakra's are all blocked up in nervous anticipation of my impending holiday and I should 'relieve my tensions' in the time honoured way of old. By doing it myself. Good plan Jayne, cept Im fairly certain I couldnt reach that particular chakra if I tried. I may not even be able to reach my own ass at the moment, so my chakra's are not the only thing blocked up.

Oh masturbation, the one thing you can truly rely on hey? Im a single woman, I dont mind admitting Im a fan of masturbation. I have to be. And Jayne is right, my chakra's may well be all blocked up cos remember that vibrator Im not too embarrassed to mention? Little did I know the damn thing glows flourescent pink in the dark and lights up the damn room. Its that bright you could do needlepoint by it if you really wanted to. As such, it doesnt get out of the bedside drawer very often. Or I might find myself explaining alien life forms, ufo's or min min lights to a couple of concerned children who want to know what the glowing light and strange hum coming from my bedroom is all about.......

Which brings me to my pocketnews horroscope of today....coast along tyhis morning; your efforts may not be appreciated until this afternoon when your passion and efforts are recognised and rewarded...................buddy, you must have been peerin through my window cos coast along is about all I can manage today. But its nice to know that this afternoon Im to be rewarded. Which now leaves me wondering just how my passion can be rewarded when my back is in the state it is in........???

If my blog sounds a lil out of joint and mixed up this morning, i blame the drugs. or my blocked up chakra. Or my blocked up ass. Either way, its not reallly my fault.

Thought for this second....Yes please nurse, I'll have another.

So Thats A Guaranteed 6 Months Right

Jayne and I were chatting last night and it occurs to us that we have given ourselves a solid 6 months of pure fantasy by doing nothing more than having a determination to want to believe in fantasy itself. Not bad hey?

Fantasy is the new 40, or the new black, or the new whatever wasnt new a lil while ago but suddenly is new now, or again, or never was but should have been. Whatever. The thing is, fantasy is quite the greatest place on earth and Im damn pleased that I live in it every single day. And Im even more pleased that Im no longer just living in it, Im bloody will creating it, living it, believing it and loving every second of it.

As you all know, Jayne and I, we are single. Usually pathetically so. Shut up Jayne, we are. Why are you even friends with me? We are single mummy's and we realised a long time ago that if we wanted something the only way to get it, was to make it happen. Of course, what we want changes daily, afterall, we are female. But that is hardly the point. We flit from wanting great jobs, to great careers, to any fucking job will do at the moment, to a new job, to no job at all. We want beautiful men, smart men, witty men, intelligent men, hhhhhot men, men who are gay, men who want to fuck us, men we want to fuck, men we want to date, nice men, men who arent dickheads, men who arent brilliant just breathing will do fine, men like our brothers, like our fathers, like our husbands, men who arent our husbands, men who wanna take care of us, men who love our independance, men who wanna buy us soemthing pretty, men who we can lean on, men who can fix our fucking cars, men who pay someone to fix our fucking cars, men who teach us to fix our fucking cars, men who say, you know what fuck the car, lets get a taxi.

We want great moments, lazy moments, no moments, moments by ourselves, moments with our kids, moments without our kids *lots of moments without our kids*, moments that make us go wow, moments that make us go what the fuck? We want bigger tits, smaller tits, better tits, these tits or those tits. We want curves, we want less curves, we want our asses to be bigger, or smaller, or spanked, or caressed. WE want our cookies to be eaten, we want them left in the jar, we want them with cream on them, we want YOU to want to eat them, or leave them in the jar, or put cream on them.

In short, Jayne and I, just like everyone else, want it all. No one can have it all. Everyone knows that. But we've worked out how we can have it all. And thats what we are doing. WE are having it all. By allowing ourselves to live in fantasy. NOt just live there, fucking create it. And thats a beautiful thing.

YOu know, as a single mummy I spend most of my time in fantasyland. When the kids are throwing up for the 23rd time in the last 48 hours I fantasize that their father will get up and clean it up. When yet another note comes home from school asking for more money, I pretend its not a worry at all. If Number one son needs a new pair of shoes I just imagine that theres plenty of money for em. Come birthday time, I hand twenty bucks over to the kids, tell em to go buy mummy something nice, then settle myself into those massage chairs in the shopping centres, feed my 2 buck coins in and just pretend the lil mechanical thing pushin and rollin my muscles is actually a totally hot guy called Sven from Sweden. Fantasyland. I recommend it. Its all there in Fantasyland.

When it comes to romance, the non existant part of my life, I just make one up. I can have it however I want it. I want an 'our boyfriend' who sweet talks me with beautiful words? Hey, imagine it and voila, turn up he does. Ok, so he's miles away, who the hell cares. Distance has no part in fantasy, why focus on that part of it? The fantasy part, the sweet talkin, thats what you focus on. If I want an 'our husband' to sweep me off my feet and take me to bloody vegas to be married by elvis, then fuck it, thats what I'll have. Why the hell not? All you have to do is want to believe in it. YOu dont even have to believe in it. YOu just have to want to believe in it. And thats your ticket to happiness people. Dont let reality get in the way of your fantasys. Theres plenty of time for reality, there just isnt enough time for fantasy. So Jayne and I, we've been makin time for it. We are wanting to believe the most fantastic of fantasys. We want to belive that out there somewhere, is the perfect man who knows how fantasyastic we are and by god we'll find him, even if we have to fantasize him into being. And the bills will still be there tomorrow, the shoes will still need buying, the asses will still need to be bigger, or smaller, but who the hell cares?

Thought for this second.....6 months of ever so hot friend of 18 years ago pure fantasy? Priceless. And I wouldnt give it up for all the reality in Fantasyland

So I Get Asked Out Via Text a LOT Right?

And im wondering if its really the done thing to do....

Its probably not is it? I think it might show a lack of balls. Im not sure. Im still out on this one.

See, I realise that most of my social life takes place via the net. And Im perfectly fine with that. Mostly, people bug the hell out of me, and I can always turn off the computer and walk away from it, or I can ignore the phone and just not answer any texts, I can choose when and how I do my socialising....and thats just how I like it.

So I guess its a given that people who do the same thing would gravitate towards each other right? And one of the things Ive noticed about this gravitational pull going on is this.....Im socialising with my sorts of people.....and thats just how I like it.

Im not sure if I would ever ask anyone out via text or msn though. Im frantically searching through my menomories trying to see if I ever have, and Im certain I havent. So Im still trying to work out if I think its a bad thing or not.

This blog entry may have gone a lot further, if I could work out my position on it. Perhaps I will come back to it at a later stage.

Thought for this moment?....I hate unfinished business.

So its raining...again...I'll need an ark Right?

I havent been known in certain circles as The Rain Goddess for nothing you know. Some people have the sun follow them wherever they go. Some people are told that its like summer when they are around. Me? Wherever I am, its raining. You got a drought? Move my ass into your area and watch it come falling from the sky. Ah rain, beautiful rain. Sweet, gorgeous, wonderful rain.

And it never rains, it only ever pours. Here I was just a lil while ago in the middle of the biggest drought of my life......and not once, but twice do I suddenly find myself in need of an ark. Its raining. Men. Hallelujah its raining men??

Theres the ever constant husband to consider. He just doesnt seem to go away. Like a constant drizzle. Doesnt actually achieve anything, just enough to bother you sort of drizzle. Not really enough to stop you from getting on with things, but just enough to let you find excuses not to do them.

I recently had need of a saviour. Yep. A saviour. Found myself killing time at the local pub last week, turns out, a complete tosser was also killing time. Turns out that in the police had to be called, not by me, by the bar staff, and I found myself callling on a true blue homegrown country boy to escort me out of the place, after checkin the coast was clear because tosser had his eyes on me, and I wanted out, but I didnt want out enough for him to know what car I drove. Homegrown country boy hails from the sorts of areas the old girl is from, so I bought him home for dinner as a bit of a thank you. Guess who fronted yesterday with a dozen roses and a teddy bear for my birthday?

Off at the boxing the other night...awesome night people. Me and the kids had a ball. Turns out I now have the number of the guy standing next to me, who has just texted to invite me for dinner. Now, I have to ask a few questions on this one.......is it realllly etiquette to invite a girl out for dinner via text? No, I'll get into that one another time. Not just me, tho, invited the kids as well. Why wouldnt he? AFterall, when we met I did have both kids with me, so its a fairly safe bet that they play a pretty big part in my life.......

Plus theres Jack1. He invited me out for lunch in honour of my birthday. I didnt go though. He can invite out one of the other girls he mass texted on valentines day.

And my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago? Our boyfriend? Well Im still plannning on having his babies. And herein lies the problem. As Im so set on having our boyfriends babies, Ive found myself not being toooo interested in anyone else. OMG, did I just grow up or something? OMG is Gaanz about to sit her ass down real quick? Cos that my dear people, may just be a breakthrough. I cant help myself. Our boyfriend seems to have scored himself a special place.....I almost feel like givin him a trophy.

So, do I need an ark or what? Jayne reckons that when I radiate contentment and happiness, men come out of the woodwork. Its possibly true. AFterall, our boyfriend does have me feeling all content with myself. And I am feeling better than I have in the last 12 months. I feel a bit healthier than I have in the last 8 months. I look way better than I have in the last 6 months. All in all, I reckon I might have it going on. And my ass? Its so far beyond foine now. Beyond foine. Its from runnin up and down the stairs in the house all this time. Either way, I look great. I feel not too bad at all.

But I seem to be attracting a collection of men friends, and I think I might be in a bit of trouble. Someone is gonna get hurt. And usually? Usually its me. I didnt set out to attract any of these people, so why do I feel like Ive done something bad? People often call me a bitch, and I think its cos of these sorts of situations....but its not my fault is it? Do I have to tell everyone NO FUCK OFF the moment they meet me? Ive taken to mentioning our boyfriend to just about everyone I meet now, and they still wanna date me! Ive done all I can right???

Thought for this evening......So a cubit is the length of your arm to your wrist right?

So Its My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To Right?

Yes, I understand its my birthday today. And if one more of you fuckers calls me 39 I'll go postal on you all. I am not 39. I am 34. Or damn close to it at least. Whatever.

Its my birthday today people. Well, was at least. Its practically over now. Which is fine by me. Cos all in all, I havent much felt like celebrating anyway.

Some fucker bowled CAT on saturday night and she's gone, buried. Thats it. No more CAT. Im devastated.

And then, get this....that bbh2 of mine? He phones me this morning at 3.48am. Thankfully I slept through it. Then he phones me this afternoon. I says to him, did you phone me at 3.48am? He says, yes I forgot to tell you happy birthday for yesterday. I says, you are shitting me right? He says no. I says, oh for fuck sake, its today. He says....serious? I says, well, at least nothing has changed with you has it? He's just now phoned me again. Apparently the man is all depressed. He lays this on me, on MY birthday? Its my fucking birthday. I dont give a fuck how depressed he is. Its my damn birthday. I dont want to hear about his woes and whatevers. Its my bloody birthday. ITS MY BIRTHDAY.

Our boyfriend, bless his lil heart though, texted me bout two seconds after midnight...with....IN your face Jayne...he texted me with...Happy Birthday beautiful woman. See? SEE??? Then he's been on the phone all day to me. I love our boyfriend. I love our boyfriend a whole lot more than I love bbh2. Wanker. Its my damn birthday and he's ringing me to whinge about his fucking woes.........I think I shall institute a new rule for him. No phoning me unless he's sent money beforehand. This will put me in a much nicer frame of mind, and I may actually be inclined to listen to him woe and whinge. But, on my birthday? Hell no.

Over it.

Thought for this second.....Its my birthday dickhead, shut the fuck up.

So Keep Your Rain Away From My Parade Right?

Im having a parade people. Its 18 years in the making and its a damn fine celebration. Everything about it, screams parade.

Mother, bless her heart, hit me up last night. So, daughter dearest she says...whats the official status of the love life?

I have a love life? Remember Im talking with my mother, all she needs to know is whether Im bringing him home to meet the family, she doesnt need to know anything about my love life. Or my life of love for that matter. The official status mother? I believe the term is dead.

Dead? How can that be daughter dearest? she says. What happened to Target man? He's gone mother. Long time back. Not for me. Well, she says, Im still curious about this date you promised to bring to the wedding. How's he?

Oh Mummy, youve hit upon my favourite subject. I can wax lyrical about that particular date for the rest of my life, but some things are not fit for a mothers ears. So I'll gloss over most of it. Oh he's still hhhhot mummy. He'll be the hottest date there. REally? she says. I might just tell your sister to stop helping me look for a new dress, Im not going.

Not going mummy? Whys that? I says. She replies....well if he's that hot, and you wont tell me who it is, chances are he's trouble, and will not be of the parental approval variety. Get your rain away from my parade mother, hes not trouble. He's hhhhhhot.

See? she says. hhhhhhot. That many h's and he's got to be trouble.

Mother is desperate to know who my date is. And Im desperate not to tell her. The thing is see, mother may well have an opinion on this particular date, which may well include putting her foot down and saying he aint coming. And if thats going to happen, I dont wanna hear it til way further down the track. As I said, this is my damn parade and I dont want any rain on it. So I cant tell her who it is. I did however tell her why I cant tell her who it is. She again announced the man must be trouble and it will all end in tears. I says, dont be ridiculous mother, hes not trouble, hes a respectable boy, with decent manners, eyes I could drown in, kisses I could die in and arms I just wanna throw myself into. Mother, I says, he's that hhhhhhhhhot Im actually considering having his babies. Mention the word babies at my mother and she has an instant heart attack.

OH dear, she says. Child, she says, you dont want anyones babies. Bloody hell woman, I says, didnt I already tell you to keep your damn rain away from my parade? Of course I want his babies, hes hhhhhhhhhot.

See, she says...hhhhhhot. Thats trouble with a capital T.

No, mother, I says. Trouble with a capital T, is me. Agreed, says mother, now who is the damn date?

Thought for this second....she's just jealous cos my date will be the hottest man in the room, everyone will be drooling all over him, from afar of course, cos Im takin my mouth guard and gloves. I aint havin no skanky who with the added r and e sidling up to my date. In fact, this is one wedding where I hope I get shafted with a back table, near the door. For easy exiting. Mother is right. Any man that hhhhhhhot has to be trouble. And Im all for trouble. Afterall, its my damn parade.

So These Things Just Come Out Of My Mouth Right

Things I say that Ive noticed dont always come out the right way, depending on the company...


I'd sleep with ugly people for those tickets
Id know those flaps anywhere
Why am I even friends with you
I love you, I think I'll have your babies
You are soooooo dropped
Are we gonna dance
Suck it up
No Blood, No Foul, Play on
Get in behind


No, Im not going to elaborate further.

Thought for this moment?.....If I could turn back time....*oh Cher, Id sleep with ugly people who im not even friends with and Id never so drop, Id even have their babies, while dancing, Id suck, there would be no blood and they could definately get in behind....if it meant I could have flaps like hers*

So There Is No In Between Right?

At the servo this morning, getting some more cigarettes. I smoke too much. I do. I should cut down. Not really the point. Im getting some cigarettes and figure, meh, Im here, I'll get some fuel too. You never know when I might find myself travelling along a highway not exactly certain of where I am, not exactly certain of where Im going, but knowing exactly where Ive been, and why Im leaving there. Not the point either. P plater pulls up next to me. And gets out. Locks his car, gets some fuel.

Its a very nice white, hatch number. Think city car, built for economy not balls. Im fine with this, I am. I think its a perfectly acceptable car for a p plater to be driving. For a start, hes got his head on the right way. Choose economy and reliability over the guy over there who is also a p plater. Hes drivin some kind of european type wagon thingy, with the most beautiful set of chrome wheels Ive ever seen. So beautiful, they dont actually belong on a 'normal city type european car'. This p plater? Hes got no idea. Back to our white hatch p plater. Hes getting his fuel and quietly paying for it. He's wearing some exceptionally nice scent, I know this, cos IM right behind him paying for my fuel and bouncing from toe to toe in anticipation of that packet of cigarettes I mentioned earlier. The other p plater? He's shuffled in, work boots on, windows all down in his car, car keys still in the ignition *hey im not complaining, thats where mine are* and reeks of 'man' type smell. YOu know the one, the one that says I work hard......

Which got me to thinking, there is just no in between is there? Theres p plater with the I rule the world attitude and I dont much care about anything other than this second right now. And theres p plater with, its ok, I'll get to where IM going which is totally planned out mind you, in a perfectly respectable way.

Bit like me really. Not the totally planned out perfectly respectable way, not the I rule the world and I dont much care about anything other than this second part. The theres no in between part. IM on, or Im off. IM in or Im out. I know what Im doing, or I dont. I want it all, or I want none of it.

Was chatting with Mr Fabulous, he says I over analyse things. I love Mr Fabulous. If he wasnt so fabulous, Id hate him. But he is fabulous. And he does get me. This is a good thing. He says I should just go with the flow. Hes right of course. Hes always right. Except when hes wrong. Which he has been before, but I wont hold that against him.

So, dear faithful readers, Im about to go back to going with the flow. Just flowing along. Its where I used to be, not sure how I got to where I am now, but the flowing part? Has gone. Time to remember what I was doing when I was flowing along and just keep on doing it. Its worked for me before. I like it. I'll do it again.

Thought for this second....as most of you know, its my birthday on Monday. My birthday always gets me reflecting on my life, and where I am in it. It also gets me reminding all you people that theres no point sending cards, unless they have money in them. Or hot half naked men popping out of them with red bows wrapped around their cocks desperate to sing Happy Birthday to me and let me unwrap their presents.......Where was I? Oh yes.....reflecting on my life. And my current state in it. WEll I think thats obvious isnt it?

So sex...no one's getting it right?

Well thats how it seems to me. I have these guy friends ok. And they are all taken. Happily too I might add. However, they all say the same thing. Their girls dont seem to put out. Now, Im a girl, and I understand that men say girls dont put out when what they really mean is girls dont put out enough.

Im also girl enough to understand that put out is not a great term to use, but Im the writer here, and far as I can work out, put out is a lot easier to type than 'express their love in a physical sense', ok, so work with me alright??

So theres this friend of mine, he's always been a known playboy. In fact, he wont even take his lovely girlfriend back to his hometown in case his 'past' happens to be mentioned. Though, of course, how she could not know about it is beyond me. He spent a few years attempting to hook this girl, and he certainly didnt do those years celibate. She must know. The real reason he cant take her home? The man's penis is famous. It has a huge reputation. For being huge. Ive seen it, it is indeed huge. Ok, Ive not seen it in fighting form, just this particular friend had a shocker of apool game with me once, and got pantsed. You know, you dont sink a ball and you have to drop your pants and lap the table? Oh cmon, it is so standard rules. Anyway. He lost, I got the view. Its huge. And its reputation does well precede him. He just doesnt want anyone sayin to his girlfriend *lucky thing!!* gee your man's penis is famous round here. But, the thing here is, he reckons, she doesnt put out much. He'd be lucky to be takin his reputation out for a wander more than once a week. Ok. Its probably not even that much. Hell bbh2 complained longly and loudly if his reputation wasnt out three times a day. I think bbh2 might have had it a lot gooder than he originally thought.

I go on.......theres this other friend of mine. He's just your average nice guy. Ok, hes not at all average. There is more than average about this friend. He's quite the nicest guy Ive ever known. And the sweetest. He'd give you the shirt off his own back, and the pants off his own penis if he thought you needed them, but, cos hes such a nice guy, he'd do it with his back turned. See? Anyways, hes married with two kids. Doesnt complain he doesnt get any. Just mentioned once that his wife hasnt been at all keen since the second baby came along....FIVE AND HALF YEARS AGO. I actually said, you mean, you havent, ....for five and half years? He changed the subject. See, I told you, hes just a nice guy and way above average. Way above.

How bout my friend Mr Fabulous? If he isnt a hugh wannabe, no one is. The man has more girls in his bed than hugh has....In fact, Id lay money on hugh not even coming close to this one. But heres the thing, Mr Fabulous decided one day, he'd had a gutful of the 'good life' as he put it, and thought it was time he wanted the 'real life'. I love him. I do. He knows his stuff. Anyways, he finds himself suddenly attracted to this particular lass, who he then dates solidly for 6 weeks before they hit the bedroom. 6 weeks? This from the man who didnt used to wait 6 minutes before gettin it on. Then, he mentions to me, while the action is fabulous *why wouldnt it be, he is afterall Mr Fabulous??* when he does get it, he doesnt get it as much as he thought he might. Apparently thats also a once a week number......

So ....there we have it, a lil look at some of my friends and their sexual habits, which to me, says......once a week seems about the norm. Is once a week enough?

More importantly, the purpose of this blog, why do i know this? Thats the important thing here, why do I know the sexual habits of my friends??? Now, Im a good friend, IM honest and open and I dont mind chattin about anything and everything. I'll lend a hand anywhere I can. I'll provide advice always with the caution that Im a twice divorced single woman so any advice I give cant actually be counted on, because If I knew what I was on about, I wouldnt be twice divorced and single today would I?

Ive come up with a few theories here. They discuss these things with me, because they are after the female view? Well thats not gonna help them much. Im about as far from the average female as you can get.

They tell me because they want me to know that there are indeed different sorts of men out there and I should not settle for anything less than brilliant? I like this theory the most, because my male friends? They love me. And well they should. Im a loveable sort of person. I am so. Shut up Jayne, why am I even friends with you?

They tell me cos they want just want someone to talk to, tellin your mates you aint gettin any, isnt a very manly thing to do. TElling your mates your getting more than they are, is the blokey thing to do. But these friends of mine, aint blokes. They are men. And I love them all the more for it.

They tell me cos they want to get into my knickies on the side......I spose its a remote possibility, or would be, if they weren the people they are. Which they are. So its not actually a possibility. I dont care what Harry met Sally says. Men and women can so be friends without the sex getting involved. As long as the man has a girlfriend, a wife, or both and neither of them are the female he's attempting to be friends with.

So now im left thinking to myself, this may be the trouble. If once a week, is about normal, and Im used to bbh2's three times a day demands.....then Im obviously putting out tooo much which is why Im considred intimidating. I know, youd think it would sound more like a dream, if all men do is ccomplain they dont get enough right?

Ive totallly lost my train of thought, perhaps I need to go back to bed for the day?

So Thats Much Better Right?

Just went to my phone for pocketnews horrorscope for the day, since hte one delievered to my inbox is obviously a lie.

A ray of hope carries you t hrough the day. You mabe be better working alone rahter than as part of a group. Meditation, tai chi favoured tonight.

A ray of hope? What do I want with a ray of hope? Ive got last nights kissing dream to carry me through the day.

Thought.....still tired, definately going to spend the day in bed.

So......What The?? Right?

Anyone wanna see my horrorscope for today?

The forecast for you is excellent, Princess. You can rely on today's aspects to restore your confidence and faith in yourself, both of which have been sorely tried during the past few days. The femme fatales among you can swagger forth, certain of conquest. However, don't let yourself go too far. Wait a few days for reality to dispel the cloud of ecstasy, and you'll be able to see the future more clearly.

Hey hang on a second, that sounds vaguely familiar. Havent I seen that before somewhere? You bet your sweet lying forecastin ass I have. I had that exact same worded horrorscope way back on February 1 of this year. And things didnt exactly turn out roses for me then, whats to say this one is gonna be any different??

Who the hell cares, Ive woken from the most beautiful dreams last night. So beautiful Im actually trying not to tell myself im unwell and should head straight back to bed and stay there for the entire day in the hopes of continuing on those dreams.........sigh.

See, there was this boy in there right.....he needs a name. lets call him.....Man of My Dreams. AKA, ever so hot friend of 18 years ago, Same face same kisses, I'll get to the kisses part in a second......Ok I'll get to the kisses now. Damn me if that boy doesnt kiss like he's king of the world. In fact, thats what I think I shall call him. King of The World. Whatever, the important part isnt the name. Its the kisses. OH dear god, the kisses. I tell you, I have been blessed to kiss some of the best kisses in the whole of the country. I have. Ok, to be fair, Ive also had some of the worst kissing in the whole of the universe thrust upon me, the defining word in that sentence being thrust. Eeeeew. I still have nightmares of the guy who would swirl his tongue around mine twice, then thrust it down my throat, then swirl it around twice, then thrust it further down my throat, then swirl it around twice, then thrust it so far down my throat.....and so on. But this is not a time for rembering those kisses. Eeeew. No. This is for the rememberance of the kisses from my dreams last night.

See it started off with a girly sleep over slumber party. Bet that got your attention Gers!! There we were, me and my best girl friends all in our knickies and cute lil singlets, *hang on a second, this is supposed to be my dream, not GERS's dream!!* We play the obligatory truth and dare game....* I swear this was my dream not Gers's* and then a genie bottle turns up, which of course we rub and out pops a Genie!! What luck ho??? Genie grants us alllllll three wishes more what luck ho???? And I says, I wanna be kissed by the King Of The World. And then up pops my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago, and I didnt use my other two wishes. Sigh. There is nothing quite so beautiful as those kisses. I know this, because I dreamed about them and didnt waste my wishes on raindrops and roses, though now that I think about it, there may well have been raindrops on roses for all I know. I have no idea. I was lost in the kisses.

Thought for today...Im tired, might go back to bed.

So Its Better to Have Loved and Lost Right?

Bullshit. And Im noticing just how many of my lil tales start off with the word bullshit. I think Ive found my niche in the writing world. Disputing all the tried and true rot that people tend to live by. I aint living that way. Who would want to?

Brings me back to my original point, its nowhere near better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Who writes this shit anyway? Why would you think it better to have had the barest taste of that which you will never have again? What kind of masochistic person wants that?

John Travolta lives by this diet of his. Its a case of, he can eat anything he damn well wants, but only have one mouthful of it if its on the 'no go' list. One mouthful of that divine mouthwateringly gorgeous chocolate mudcake? I dont think so. I dont want the damn cake if I cant have it and eat it too.

So, do we do what I usually do? Convince myself I dont really love the damn cake, so its not that bad if I never have it again? Or do we just not order the damn cake in the first place? I hate to break it to you...but I like cake. Gaanz makes me heart shaped chocolate cakes. I think she's trying to tell me soemthing. But I like cake, so I eat it. Thats the problem.

I like the damn cake, so I eat it. And then I want it again. Its not my fault if it takes me 18 damn years to find the bloody recipie for it. But I can tell you, its good cake. I love that cake. One bloody mouthful is not enough of that damn cake.

Ok Im prepared to accept the same damn cake with a different icing on it, but it will still be the same cake. Just presented differently.

THought for now....I will so have my cake and eat it too. I love cake. Cake is PreciousPrincess worthy. I dont want cupcakes, I dont want cheesecakes, I want MY cake. And it will not be a pretty picture to have loved that cake and then lost it. Who writes this stuff anyway? I can guarantee Im not even friends with them.

So I Went To See My Greek Friend Right

For coffee. Its a usual occurence. I know, I know, I swore off coffee, but Ive since clarified this with myself. Ive sworn off the 18 cups a day I used to drink. The very occassional one is ok. So thats what I did. Oh dear lord, how I've missed my latte on skinny.....sigh.

Anyways, so I says to Greek Friend, right, Ive gone and lost 8kgs, how do I look? I do the required spin around...and he says fine. I says, its not too much is it? See, the thing to remember here is, with an ass like mine, the roundedness of it, becomes a lil more pronounced the skinnier I get. And, Ive gone to a lot of trouble to square off my shoulders, so Im tryin to look super proportioned. Greek Friend, says, no thats fine. NO more though. I says, no more? But I was gonna go with just three more, for now. Three more is my goal and then IM happy to sit on it for a while.

But, says Greek Friend, your ass will disappear. Lets go out for lunch next week. I says, oh Im onto your plan. You wanna fatten me up again, so My ass gets bigger. Greek Friend, I guess you have realised, likes a 'well rounded ass'. I says, next thing I know, you will be taking me home to mama, who will be ...oh look at you, you poor thing, eat, eat more...eat eat eat!.....He says hes too scared to introduce me to his mama.....

Which brings me to my next point....am I scary? I must be scary. Why else would a friend not want to introduce me to his mother? I am arent I? Im scary. Yay. OH dear, thats not good. Though I should have realised it before. Possibly the reason why men are intimidated by me, and my bastard husbands are happy to be shot of me. Im scary. How come Im scary? I dont understand. Whats so scary about me? I am, afterall, just a girl. How on earth could I be scary?

Oh ok, so Im a sorta used to being single sort of woman. I make do with what I have, or I do it myself. I can weild barbeque tongs like no man can. I cut n polish my own car. Hell I pay my own bills! Is that so scary? Ive single handedly raised two kids, and so far not a whole lot of blood has been shed. I have four boxing bags, three heavy, and one speedbag. I treat my dog like a dog, not like another child. I have a vibrator for god sake and Im not afraid to admit it. Is that so damn scary?

Whats so damn scary??

Thought for the moment.....Dont answer that.

So Good New Right?

And about time too hey? So I recently caught up with a mate from the old days, who also happens to be friends with my ever so hot friends of 18 years ago. And my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago added some pics to his facebook page last night, a lil trip down memory, and menomory lane I had myself. There I was flickin through the pics when I notices THE FIRST LOVE OF MY LIFE is suddenly staring me in the face. And eeeeeewwww, what the hell was I thinking?

Ok, so the pic was from 1994, five years after the last time I saw him, and its not at all kind to him. Which made me remember, there wasnt all that much to be kind to him about!. The boy, I would never use the word man in regards to him, IM not bitter, only slightly twisted, but that isnt the point. The boy, had hair longer than mine. And he used to spend more time doing it than I spent doing mine. Mine was much better of course, but that is hardly the point anymore either. The very thought of me being anywhere near that boy totally repulses me....and again, I have to say...eeeeew what the hell was I thinking? Note: my ever so hot friend of 18 years ago? His pics from back then still look damn fine!

Where was I? Oh yes.....so my mate from the old days who I also caught up with, happened to give me a call today. Turns out he lives round the corner from Jayne, so when Im up there in a few weeks, Im going to make itmy business to catch up with him for a coffee. Thats not hte point either. I happened to mention to mate from the old days that ever so hot friend of 18 years ago had added these pics, and he was in some of them, and also MY FIRST LOVE. Mate from the old days, who lives around the corner from MY FIRST LOVE's brother, happened to make my day just now. Totally made my day. How? He mentioned that MY FIRST LOVE, now has the body of Homer Simpson.

And there is nothing I love more than knowing some guy who broke my heart, now looks like crap. In fact, I would absolutely love to run into MY FIRST LOVE at some stage, cos damn that boy will be eatin his heart out, kickin himself and basically be miserable at the thought of ever having had the chance to keep me, and being too stupid to actually do so. IN fact, not only did he not keep me, he not kept every other girl in town as well. And....and.....he looks like crap, and I look fucking amazing. Ok, I dont look quite as amazing as I could, in fact, I could look a little bit better, but that isnt hte point. The point is, when push comes to shove.......and you stand him next to me, Im gonna wipe the floor with him. And that, my dear friends, makes me feel ever so freaking happy.

Thought for the day....Thank you to Chardy who gave me the gem description of the beer gutted man.....Verandah over the tool shed.

So Breasts Rule Right?

Breasts rule. They do. I dare you to disagree with me. Breasts, boobs, tits, knockers, jugs, puppies, the girls...feel free to leave comments with any other names I may have missed.....absolutely rule. Greatest things in the world.

Then why am I a little bit unhappy with one of mine right now? Just one mind you. The other one is still my best friend. But one of them is giving me some trouble, and Im not very happy abou tit at all.

Ive never been very well endowed. Which is the polite way of saying, Ive never had big ones. Ive got great ones sure. Ive had more compliments on my breasts than Ive hot dinners. And since living with Gaanz, Ive had an awful lot of hot dinners. My breasts are awesome. Awe inspiring even. They are. I love them. I would have their babies, but in reality, they are my babies.

I wear a D cup. Have done for the last twenty years. Not because Ive got a lot of breast, no. If I had a lot of breast, and it wasnt fake breast, I wouldnt be able to get around braless as much as I do. And I do, a lot. I have nothing against bra's, just, well, I keep telling you, they are awesome and they stay up there all on their very own. Something to behold they are. Ok, Im bragging, but people, I have to tell you, I have awesome breasts.

Usually.

At the moment, one of them is not quite so awesome. Ok, its still awesome. Its just bothering me. Ive never been one to come home at the end of the day, rip my bra off and sigh a sigh of total relief. But thats what Im doing. See, the one that is bothering me, hurts. A lot. Its never done that before. I think there might be something wrong with it. I prod it, and I poke at it, I cant feel anything wrong with it, it just hurts. So I stop prodding it and poking it. But then it hurts, so I prod it and I poke it some more, its a never ending circle that doesnt stop it actually hurting.

I might get it looked at. Which, in itself, sounds great. But in reality, isnt. See, getting it looked at, is not going to be done after a candle lit dinner and a couple bottles of wine with some hhhhhhot guy. Getting it looked at will be most unromantic, in unflattering full light, by some guy who I actually have to pay to look at it. Something wrong with that situation. But yes, Im going to take my breast off to the doctor and have him look at it.

My poor doctor. Here I am, in a new place, have sourced myself a new doctor, and the first thing I do is drop my knickies and have him look at the business end of me. Then when I go to see him again, I take my top off and flash my awesome breasts at him. My poor doctor is probably thinking Im an oversexed undersexed hypocondriac, just makin stuff up so I can flash my bits at him. I could die of embarrassment, but I wont. Because I need him to look at, prod and poke at, my sore breast.

Thought for this evening.....Did I mention they were awesome?

So Im Having A Birthday Right

And as usual, I find myself reflecting on that which is my life. It happens every time my birthday comes around. Im not one for making new years resolutions. Im not one for having spur of the moment soul searching episodes. Ok, thats a lie. Seems I am. I blame the ever so hot friend of 18 years ago for that one. Ok, thats a lie too. I dont blame him. I obviously was about to have one of those anyway, he just reminded me that it was time I did it now. But come birthday time, reflection always happens, and its not usually good.

For instance, the number one reflection at birthday time, is the fact that I never have sex on my birthday. I know. Its one of the few times a year you are guaranteed sex. Even if you are married! But I never have sex on my birthday. This is a big thing for me. Every year I say, next year is gonna be different. And next year comes, and its no different.

Follow along with me.

My teenage years were spent in family celebrations, which is great. I love family stuff. Its fun. You get to lord it over them for a whole day, and when you've got five sisters living with you like I have, lording it over all them is quite the best part of the entire day. You get the day off whatever duties were yours, you get to choose dinner, you got a fabo present, you got a cake out of the womens weekly birthday cake book and all in all, you felt pretty damn chuffed with yourself. If you were super lucky and it was a school day, the boy of your dreams took pity on you and planted a kiss on you at lunchtime, or, as the years went by, you got a whole pash session on the way home from school!

My 18th birthday was spent with my father and his girlfriend and her two sons. One of age, one not. My brother, who could usualy be counted on for such fun events as sneaking me into pubs while underage by knowing the guys on the door and the girls behind the bar, was sadly busy that day. I think I even cooked fish for dinner.

My 19th birthday? Ah yes, the long distance love affair with who was to become BBH1. Bless his lil heart he always managd to be away when it was my birthday. No hang on, I lie. My 21st birthday he was actually home, but as he threw me a party at his friends restuarant, with all his friends there, none of who I actually knew beings as how we had only moved to town like three weeks beforehand, he managed to have a bit more fun than I did. To the point I had to drive us home, and he was snoring way before I was celebrating. Sigh. After that, he worked overseas. Nothing like having being overseas for work as a suitable excuse for not lovin up your girl on her birthday.

So after I split with bbh1 and was effectively on the singles scene, I figured, right, Im a gorgeous single woman, in my prime, Im bound to be getting it on my birthday now right? No. Seems I never managed to be 'with' some guy on my birthday. Til I met bbh2. Bless his lil heart he never bloody remembered when my birthday was anyway. Even tho its exactly one week before his. One year he even discussed what we would do for his birthday, on my actual birthday, still without remembering it was my birthday. One year my birthday went like this..

ring ring
Me..hello?
Him...hey ive just finished work, what are you up to?
Me...having birthday cake with my sister and her kids
him...ok well im gonna stop off at Freds for a beer
me...*stunned silence, cmon already you are kidding me?* right then
him...home later, i bought some steaks for dinner
me...ok bye.

me thinking, oh he did actually remember and hes gonna cook. yay. Home later turned out to be 930, by which time Id had to cook and feed the kids. I hadnt though, collected up all the birthday cake plates. Stuff that. Im cranky by now. He comes home. He says...oh sorry im late, hic, i had a few with Fred, hic. I says, yes I can see that. Im going to bed. He says, but im gonna cook a steak, im hungry, do you want one? I says...no ive had dinner, and besides I filled up on cake.

Was bout half an hour later, he comes in and says, this cake, what was that for? I says, its birthday cake bbh2. He says, one of the kids birthdays? Meaning one of my sisters kids. I says. NO. He says, oh its your birthday? I says, was my birthday bbh2. Was. He says, why didnt you remind me?

And thats the crux of that. Its apparently my job to remind him to be a responsible, loving, giving husband. As you can see, no sex was had then either. Then after that, he managed to be drunk, drugged, absent, or passed out at birthday time. Mine. Not his. He was always fine for his.....typical.

So after the super unceremonial dumpin by phone he pulled on me a few years back, I was back in single city having family type celebrations again on my birthday. Plenty of wine, plenty of cake, plenty of fun, just no sex. Yay. Hooked myself up with Hot Date and well, tahts a long distrance number that didnt end in him being with me on my birthday. Though I notice he nicely played it so he was when it was his birthday. Last birthday was family type celebrations that left me having to actually drive for two freakin hours each way to enjoy my sparse wine and copious cake because I then had to drive my ass two hours home again. By then I was so over birthdays that all I could manage was a bottle of wine with friends and another non sex birthday was over and done with.

And here I am again. Its my birthday in exactly 15 days. And unless my life takes a miraculous turn whereby our boyfriend pops himself into a post pak complete with red bow on his dick, I will once again be skipping sex on my birthday. But this year, Im totally prepared for it. See, Ive totally given up on the idea of ever getting laid on my birthday again. Let along ever having sex, and let alone ever making love on my birthday. You know why?

Cos birthdays suck. You know why? cos while my birthdays suck, I dont. Especially not on my birthday. I now make this pledge with myself. I will never, repeat never, ever have sex on my birthday ever again. I am now making this the one day of the year I am totally guaranteed to not have any sex. Ever. In fact, that is the present I give to myself. From this moment forward, as God is my witness, Im never having sex on my birthday again.

Thought for now...Im pathetic.

So There Is Football, And There Is Football Right?

And then, there is football. Ah football, the universal game. What bullshit. Football is not universal at all. I can prove it.

See over here in the normal part of Australia, we have football, and aerial ping pong, and that other girls game where you arent supposed to tackle anyone to the ground....what the? How the hell is that football? Theres League, thats football. Then theres Rugby, thats union, still a passable game but for the girls who arent good enough to play League. Theres AFL, referred to by all Queenslanders and Most of NSW's as aerial ping pong. And then there is lil kiddy saturday morning soccer, thats football too. Thats our football over here. And we do love our football here. State of Origin, never been a better game. Show your pride, wear your colors, beat the crap out of some guy down the pub cos he's fronted in a blues shirt when no self respectin qlder would ever be caught in blue. When the deep throaty roar of QUEENSLANDER can be heard for miles around. When even women sit down and watch the footy with their men and speak all manner of talk that men usually have to phone those 1900 numbers to listen to. Some of the greatest sex in a mans life happens after game three of State of Origin, provided Qld won of course. Its every queensland mans fantasy to get laid on the field of Lang Park, ok it may have changd its name a few times, but it will always be Lang Park to a queenslander, and it will always be one of the seven wonders of the world to a queenslander. Queenslanders know, Lang Park for football, MCG for cricket. Its the right way to do things.

No one loves the hometown derby more than a queenslander. Bronco's v the Cowboys. See, the Bronco's were our first team. They were the ones who took the football scene from the NSW guys and realllllly turned it into a game. The Bronco's are the historical favourite of the Queenslander. Then the Cowboys came along. The North Queensland Cowboys to be precise. And this is where the girls realllly took up watching football. Nothin a Queensland girl loves more than a cowboy. However, the Cowboys, they wear blue. And no self respecting Queenslander would ever wear blue. But we girls, we let that slilde, cos the Cowboys, have gone and picked every hot lookin League man they can find, put em all in the one team and voila, a new reason to watch football is born. Ask any queensland man about the Cowboys and they'll tell you they are ok, but the Bronco's are the go. Thats cos they wear blue. They wont actually tell you that. But thats the reason. Even tho the Cowboys actually epitomise everything good about Queensland, they have their home ground in the tropics, its hot and its steamy and its full of gorgeous hhhhhot men runnin around gettin the job done, the Cowboys just cant be Queenslands fav team. Sigh. Even as a girl I realise this. The Cowboys look good, the Bronco's are good. See the difference?? And its all because of those damn blue colors. Someone should get onto their sponsors and get that color out of there.

AFL? Who? What?? Ok, I was born in Victoria. I grew up watching AFL. I spose deep down im a pussyCAT from Geelong. But, I just dont understand that game no matter how hard I try. And AFL should be what I would like. I mean, have you ever noticed that there is not one AFL player who hasnt got big muscly arms that could just pin you up against a wall Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse style and make all your fantasies come true, ONE FREAKING HANDED??? And they do run a lot. And they take those hard hits pretty good. You know what the problem is? AFL players, they just keep going forwards. Head towards the goal posts. And do it again and again and again. League players tho, they know whats going on. Sometimes you gotta go backwards before you head for the goal posts. Sometimes, you gotta play a lil strategy. Sometimes you gotta head for the goal posts and veer right. Then Left. Then backwards again. Sometimes you gotta be so close to the goal posts the only way to actually score, is to go backwards and come at it from a different angle. Then you go forwards so you are so close you can actually touch the line, but you gotta go back a lil bit before you cross over it.

And that, is why there will always be more women fans of League than there is of AFL. Football, being the man's second favourite way to pass time, copping a blowjob being number one of course, is all about sex. AFL, while full of energy and rather exciting, just brings the ball down the field and heads for the goal posts. And if they dont score a goal, they just do it again until they do. They even get points for not scoring a goal. Sounds like a man invented that game! But League, league is all about getting it right first time round. And taking it backwards and trying a different path if the first one isnt working. League doesnt give you points if you dont score. League makes you cross the line BEFORE you can evn try for the goal!

Thought for this moment....I love football.

Thought for the moment....

So Both My Horroscopes Are Horrors Today Right

Both of them. The one I get sent to my phone via pocketnews and the one that comes to my inbox via the internet.

Both of them say this morning is great for physical activity, and getting projects done. Then Im supposed to be delicate with the opposite sex this afternoon. What the?

This morning is decidedly fucked far as physical activity goes. I really do have to get a bed. My back is locked up in all manner of strange places, which would be fine if I was planning on keepin the second half of the horroscope plan, being delicate with the opposite sex would be about all I could possibly handle today. But thats fucked too. Do you see any opposite sex around here? Do you see any sex around here? No. You dont. You know why? Cos this preciousprincess went and convinced herself our boyfriend is the one for her, and beings as how their is miles and miles and miles and miles between us, this preciousprincess isnt getting any sex at all. Not even phone sex. And no, half assed attempts by my bastard husband to phone sex me do not count as sex. It counts as an insult. And our boyfriend, hes got manners. Or he's gay. Cos even my nice new webcam isnt getting the action either. And thats ok, cos Im not just some peice of meat, even if my back does feel like it just went a few rounds with a tenderiser. I said thats ok.

Ok, its not ok at all. As if it would be. Holy crap, Im a woman dammit. I have needs too. And you cant go waving your very hot, very sexy self around in front of my webcam and not have me wanna have you wave something else very hot and very sexy around in front of me. Me. Not my webcam, me. Our boyfriend is slowly and softly killing me. Hes so dropped. Hes not dropped dont be silly. He's the nicest man in the whole wide world. Yesterday I happened to mention I went shopping and bought two pairs of boots, one dress, and four shirts. He says.....get this Jayne this is an in your face.....he says....oooh new dress, show me??? Ok, he might be gay. Doyou think he's gay?

He's gay isnt he? Oh god, thats an in my face. Shut up. He's not gay. He's well mannered, respectful and polite. And I just know that under that acceptable exterior there is a passionate man with a hard on just waiting for it to be appropriate to bring out to play. Ok, hes not gay, if he was, he would have asked to see the boots, then enquired as to what size they were.....yeah I can pick a gay man out of a crowd. Hes the only one who says, oh girl love the shoes.

So anyway, Im going shopping again today. Woman can not gt by on love alone. Love may make the world go round, love may be in the air, but sometimes love just isnt enough. Im getting a vibrator.

Thought for today......bullk pack of AA batteries thanks

So Im Having A Brazillian Right

I am. On easter saturday hopefully, if Jayne can get us a booking. Otherwise it will be the Wednesday before. But that isnt the point. The point is, Ive never had a brazillian before. Ive said it a million times. I dont go to Brazil because I cant speak the language. But, we will not be having a repeat of the tragic burning of Tasmania. So it seems Im off to Brazil afterall.

I says to Jayne, so Jayne, this waxing, Im not gonna end up all, you know, pimply and prickly and icky looking am I? Dunno, she says, are you prone to that sort of thing? Hello? Jayne? Cant you read? I burnt Tasmania to the ground. I think its fair to say that Tasmania is pretty darn sensitive. So now Im torn. Because there is a good likelihood that Tasmania is going to be logged, dear god I'll give up wine forever and not just lent if this actually happens, in the near future and the forest for the treees is gonna be a problem. Tasmania is in need of a gardener. But heres the thing.......

Gardeners havent ventured back to Tasmania since their last visit. And now Im on a timetable. I cant do too much gardening, because I need enough undergrowth for my trip to Brazil, but I dont wanna have some kind of undiscovered forestry happening down there. A girl might not have our boyfriend on hand to see the sights, but thats doesnt mean she doesnt wanna look good anyway. So Im stuck. Not to panic. I gave it a wee hedge trimmin and consider thats all its getting til Jayne takes me to Brazil. Not Jayne herself, but Jayne is damn well coming with me. If Im learning a new language, she can damn well come and hold my hand.

Note...ants wont kill you will they? cos i just discovered one drowned in the bottom of my water bottle.

Where was I? Oh yes, so we have come to the conclusion that Tasmania might be the sort of state that is prone to panic under stress....well duh! and may have itself a lil stress attack when it visits Brazil. So Ive been down to priceline to pick up a few things for just in case.

My Brazil survival pack includes:

loofah, this is sposed to exfoliate dead skin cells and make my skin all shiny. Realistically, im thinkin if i brush with it hard enough all my skin will tuffen itself up and wont stress out too much when I take it to Brazil
Ingrown Hair Cream, the tube says its to prevent such an occurence. We'll see.
Minty Breath Spray, absolutely nothing to do with Brazil, but I figure why not grab some while Im there hey?
Honey and Milk Bodywash, to make me all soft and beautiful and supple of skin, and besides, milk and honey tastes good right? And you want your Brazil dish to taste good.
Zero Frizz Straightening Balm. Ok, i know your askin questions about that one, but the thing is, hair straightener works quite the opposite on curly hair. See, if you whack that stuff in then dont touch your hair, your curls come out beautifully and everyone is jealous of you.
Orange STicks, to stick in my wax to apply to my eyebrows to make my face as gorgeous as Brazil....shut up Jayne
Genteal eye drops, cos I wear contacts and they lose moisture during the night and dammit if I plan on wakin up next to some hot guy any time in the near future, i wanna be able to see him.
Natio *for men??* Soap on a rope. Ok this one is really just a treat for me. I'll just write out what it says on the box and you can see for yourself: Creamy cleansing bar and masager in one. Good Clean Fun.........yeah thats what I thought too.
Vanilla Extract Conditioner, for my gorgeous hair of course. Like I said, if the rest of me is going to be all smooth and beautiful like, then all of me can be as well.
Luxury Collection Chocolates, ok so I was hungry
Ky Jelly, I dont think that needs any real explaining, but, just to be sure, you know it comes in a discreet lil purse pack these days? Just perfect for the handbag, glovebox, gymbag,, hey thats what it says on the box, not my idea.

So Im standing in Priceline texting Jayne furiously to find out other stuff I might need, when it occurs to me, that I have no condoms. NONE. Not that Ive needed any far out, but the fact of the matter is, im in the shop I can buy damn near anything, and Ive not got any so I best stock up. One box ought to be enough right? To last me a lifetime? Shut up Jayne. So I sidles up the condom aisle and this is where I get stuck. See, Im allergic to most condoms. Funny hey? NO. Theres only been one brand that hasnt affected me, and its been so damn long since I bought them, I cant freakin remember which one it is. Bloody hell. NOt to worry, IM an adult, I'll ask for help. Scuse me lady, IM having trouble pickin a condom! Well doesnt she get all embarrassed, I dont care. The thing is, I need these condoms, because should the gods ever smile on me and I actually get laid anytime at all, if I dotn have these particular condoms then it wont matter if Tasmania has learnt the language of Brazil, because Tasmania will be so puffed up that they will have to actually put the no entry sign on the gates and send any comers home. Shut up Jayne. Its happened before you know. Wrong condom, some steamy sex and two hours later when we are up for the rematch, a big ol no go, which lasts about three days. And I'll be stuffed if thats ever gonna happen to me again.

But the girly helpin me, she cant remember what the brand is I need either. I says, cmon you know the ones, they cost twice as much as the normal ones. She goes, honestly, ive only started workin here, I can go ask someone else if you like? Yes, do that I says. Instead of going to ask someone else, she just calls it out over the bloody aisles. Buy now IM over being adult about the situation, Im bright red and wishin the floor would just open up and take me. It doesnt. Im stuck with being stared at by all manner of people. Bugger. I considered calling someone to ask em what condom I used to have to get, but then I figured, hell that just looks a lot like im about to get laid, and I'll be fucked, *dear god please* if Im gonna go spreadin that news around to some ex.

Thought for this second....ive come home empty handed. And thats ok, really it is, because Im more than happy not sleeping with our boyfriend and not sleeping with our boyfriend, means no need of condoms.

So Public Displays of Affection Suck Right

Of course they do. No one actually wants to see two people, or more for that matter, hey whatever floats your boat, Im not one to judge......where was I? Oh yes, no one wants to see people snogging it up in public. For two reasons.

One....because its an IN YOUR FACE to single people who are most definately not getting any.
Two...because its an IN YOUR FACE to not single people who are still not getting any and are wonderin why if they arent single they still arent getting any
Three...because its an IN YOUR FACE to not single people who upon seeing such display of affection are now saddened that even though they are getting some, its not this second
Four...because its an IN YOUR FACE to the recently single people who still sook into their wine glasses that if they are reallly too good for him, like their friends said, then why arent they with him??
Five...because its an IN YOUR FACE to eveyrone other than the people in the midst of the public display of affection.

Im not a big fan of PDA's. Im not. Ok. Thats a lie. I am. See, when Im in love, or lust, I dont actually have any idea whats going on around me at all. My thoughts, my mind, my body, dear god my body, are all focused on that one person. I could be walkin into a street pole and not even know it. I know this, because I have done it. I have actually walked into a street pole. I have also driven clean over the top of roundabouts from lack of attention to the road and plenty of attention to the guy in the passenger seat. Ive learnt how to drive a manual car totally one handed while.......well, you know, using my other hand for other things. How bout the time I was 'parking' with my potential love interest who happened not to put the park brake on and the car rolled into the fence?

Ok I confess, I love Public Displays of Affection. I love the affection. I dont care if its public or not. Im not about to get my gear off and go for it just anywhere though. Ok, thats possibly also a lie. There was this one date a few years ago. We went away for the weekend and had ourselves what we thought was rather a secluded rooftop garden. Turns out it wasnt that secluded. But I didnt know it wasnt secluded, so i guess it still stands.

Note to self: Public Display of Affection, have one.

So Im All Class Right

Class Jayne. Not ass. Why am I even friends with you.

Ok, so Im a bit of all ass as well, but thats not my fault, its genetic. Ive got a well rounded ass. It fills out a pair of jeans most adequately. Ok. A little more than adequately, but that isnt the point here. The point is, while I may well be all ass, I am also all class.

First, I run into an old flame who makes my heart beat just a touch faster. Which isnt actually a good thing considerin the state of my heart at the moment. Its a lil broken. And not in the euphemistic sense. Not the point. Then I go and drop him. Well he deserved it. How can you go round makin girls hearts beat just a touch faster then not freaking call? Then, to make matters worse, he goes and drops me. So then I have to drop him. But then he calls, so I have to not drop him. Which is good, because he's calling to say hes so not dropping me.

Add into this mix one bastard husband who does call, but doesnt make my heart beat just a touch faster at all. Add into that mix one bastard husband who tries to phone sex me....hello? Why doesnt our boyfriend try to get into my knickies like that? You know why? Cos our boyfriend also thinks Im all class. That, or he saw the size of my ass and thought better of it. He's so dropped. NO he's not Jayne. He's not so dropped. He loves my ass. And thus, I love him. Anyone who can love my ass is worthy of my love. OH ,ok, so he also loves Jayne, and anyone who loves me must love Jayne. Love me, Love my Jayne. And thats why you are friends with me Jayne.

Not a lot happenin here on PreciousPrincess front Im afraid. Since I gave up the dating scene in favour of not dating our boyfriend, Ive really not got a lot in the way of stories to tell. Sad no?

Not to worry, Im sure soemthing will come up. It always does.

Thought for today.......yesterday my horroscope said love will be in my vision this evening. Meaning last evening. Which it was. So IN YOUR FACE jayne......our boyfriend was alll over facebook declaring his great love for me. Hes a smart boy he is. The way to a girls heart is definately through wine, or public displays of affection. See, Public Displays of Affection are a whole lot of In Your Faces to a whole of people. And there is nothing I love more than an IN YOUR FACE, unless its in my face. Then I dont love it at all. Not the point. My knickies were very concerned for their state of safety.

Thought for this second.....What use are knickies anyway?

So Too Much Vodka Is Bad for you? Right???

How the hell does tooo much vodka be bad? I'll tell you how.

Cos you get your fine ass dropped and promptly put your ugg boots on, your flanny shirt on, you crack open a packet of plain potato chips and a bottle of vodka and start comforting yourself that hes a bastard and you can do better anyway. Then you drink the contents of the bottle, along with a bottle of kahlua, with your mate Gaanz alongside cos she cant let you get into such a state all on your own.....I love Gaanz. Then you pass out three hours later only to wake up and throw your guts up for hours, thus using muscles in your back that arent supposed to be used ever, and wake up the next morning feeling like youve been hit by a truck.

And all because our boyfriend said you were droppped. Get this though. Most of the way through the above alcohol list, he changes his mind. You are soooo not dropped at all. But now you have a problem. See, you are about to be in a god awful hungover state for what now amounts to no reason at all. Thats not good. So you carefully polish off the rest of the bottle comiserating with yourself that now that you are so not dropped youve gone and drunk yourself into a state for nothing, which is now a thing worth drinking yourself into a state over.

Make up your mind sunshine, im so dropped, or im not so dropped. YOu cant have your vodka and drink it too you know. Unless you are so dropped. Then you must have your vodka and drink it too.

I'll forgive him though. Afterall, he is our boyfriend. And we love him. Dont we Jayne? But, hes so dropped for dropping me in the first place. Hes dropped.

Thought for the moment....I forget, is he dropped or not?

So In My Face Right Jayne

Totally In My Face. You know why? Cos he texted. He's soooo not dropped afterall. Bastard, he should have not texted at all. You know why? Cos guess who's dropped? Me.

What the ? How does that work? I cant be dropped. He's so dropped for dropping me. He's wiped Jayne. Sooo wiped. So passed wiped like a chux. Way passed wiped so much he's flushed. The man is totally on his way through the sewer of life to rot eternally in the cesspool of shit where he so richly deserves to be. What the? Im dropped???

How does a man go from loving you forever yesterday to you are so dropped today? Thats it. He's sooo dropped for that. And if he thinks Im gonna have his babies now, well he can think again. No way. Nuh uh. He's sooo dropped. But, thats not right. He cant be so dropped. Cos Im dropped. How the hell did that happen?

Confused yet? Yeah, me either. Why does this keep coming up? Why does some man who is totally delicious, totally delectable, totally out of his mind with his desperate urge to want me, love me, fucking eat me for crap sake suddenly decide Im dropped? Notice how that budshit bastard was all over me, makin every move under the sun, then soooooo drops me? Notice how our boyfriend just did the same? Its not my predatory nature scarin them off. Hell, I got smart. I sit back and wait for them to come to me. And they do come. They just fucking run off again. They are all soooooo dropped.

Cept for Bruce. I love Bruce. You know why I love Bruce? Cos hes not dropped. And even if you tell him he's dropped, he doesnt believe you. Bruce, gets it. Our boyfriend gets it too. But that doesnt matter cos Im dropped. He's soooo dropped for that.

I wasnt going to let a lil thing like him dropping me get in the way of my dropping him you know. I texted him. I says, you broke my heart, you are soooo dropped for that. So now he probably is sittin back there thinkin im just fine, handling the situation quite well, and all is good in his world. Yeah. Great for him. He's so dropped. But I did leave him with a classy retort didnt I? I didnt actually curl up in the foetal position rocking from side to side sobbing out why??? Why me??? But thats only cos Im far too stunned to do anything other than drop him. Which I cant do. Cos Im dropped. YOu cant drop someone when you are dropped. You have to suck it up. You have to just accept that you are dropped. You can however key their car, and post their pic on Donotdatehim.com. Which is what he deserves for sooo dropping me. He's so dropped for that. Wiped. Hello cesspool sewer of crap.

So from now on people, there will not be any more of this...give the boy a chance shit. No. And anyone who even makes that suggestion, will be sooo dropped. From now on, its PreciousPrincess Way or No freakin way at all. Sooooooo fucking dropped. So fucking what.

You know what? Fuck Bruce. He's dropped too. Everyone is dropped. Wiped. Jayne was right. Im never having sex again. And thats ok. Cos sex is dropped too. Wiped. Flushed fucking away.

Thought for today....Now even.....I hate you. I hate him. I hate everyone. Soooo fucking dropped every single one of you and may you all rot in the cesspool of sewer crap right alongside our boyfriend who went ahead and restored my faith in 'man' with one text and ripped it right back out again with another. He's soo fucking dropped.

My Horrorscope Offering For This Week Right

Was sooooo good I had to rip it out of the paper and phone Jayne straight away to In Her Face her with it.

Here it is....

Its not like you to take a backward step, unless there is the promise of taking two forward. Going back to an old look - a classic image that never dates - wins approval and your instinct for how you come across is sharp. Someone is relyin gon you for attention and support, but you demand your freedom, too. You can appeal again to an old flame who you now realise has all the right qualities.

Oh yeah, can you say ever so hot friend of 18 years ago? I can.

Thought for now...Sooooooo in your face Jayne. So in your face. Ok, a bit in my face too. Important thing is, he is soooooooooo not dropped