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Posted on February 18th, 2010 by ExMi
Filed under #58; Uncategorized #124; 12 Comments #187;
Wordless Wednesday
Posted on January 26th, 2010 by ExMi
Sunset last night, after the rain:
Filed under #58; meme, mistakes and thrills #124; 17 Comments #187;
Things I Learnt From Hanging Out In a Dodgy Pool Bar
Posted on January 23rd, 2010 by ExMi
aka: don #8217;t be surprised, when you visit a dodgy pool bar,  that all the people are dodgy too.
So here #8217;s what I learned last night, after a brief stint at some nameless pool bar in Edenvale, with The Boyfriend and The Best Friend:
Places like these invariably smell like feet. And vomit. And cigarette smoke. It #8217;s wise to breathe through your mouth, as much as possible.
Playing pool involves other people bending over the pool table. This gave me ample opportunity to check out loads of asses. And also made me realise that there are a LOT of people in this world that look better from behind. Spotting a decent bum usually resulted in a complete *euuuuuw-shudder* moment, when they turned around and I saw their faces. NOT pretty.
There is no fashion crime too heinous, in this establishment. From white loafers with shorts and hoodies, to #8216;Von Bitch #8217; shirts (remember those, from like seven years ago, ripping off the Von Dutch brand? Yeah, well some girls think they #8217;re still hot) to skin-tight shirts that accentuate the fat-rolls, to checkered-long-shorts (you know, those pants that can #8217;t decide if they #8217;re shorts or long pants, so they #8217;re halfway in between?) #8211; this place had them all, in mind-boggling technicolour glory.
The women in these places are bigger than the men. The women have short hair, the men have long hair. The women wear tight jeantpants and soccer/rugby shirts and are so enormous I was scared to look at them for too long, lest they think I was showing an interest in them, and they came over and tried to claim me for their own. I mean, let #8217;s face it. My Boyfriend is a big boy, but those girls were bigger. (Although he does have an {untested} policy #8211; if a lesbian/girl wants to hit him like a man, he #8217;s going to hit her back, like a man.)
The women drink beer, and the men drink multi-coloured girly drinks. The women look like men. So much so that there was much elbowing and whispering going on with The Boyfriend and I, and much heated debating over the gender of an alarming portion of the patronage.
Girls that wear fannycurtains (aka shorter-than-short skirts) and heels are looking for trouble. Seriously. I mean, who dresses like that and doesn #8217;t expect to get hit on?
If you #8217;re single, and have high-standards, then places like these are places to avoid if you #8217;re looking to hook up. That being said, if you #8217;re single and have fuck-all standards, I #8217;d recommend a place like this, if you #8217;ve looking to hook up.
{Picture from Bowertron, on Flickr}
Although last night was supposed to be a Doors evening, we somehow landed up at Unnameable Dodgy Pool Bar. I #8217;m not much for playing pool, and last night I wasn #8217;t in the mood for drinking. So I abandoned the boys to their drinking, and came home to bed. Mostly because I wanted to avoid a hangover.
Growing up, much?
Filed under #58; mistakes and thrills #124; 15 Comments #187;
TMI Thursday
Posted on January 21st, 2010 by ExMi
I like to overshare. Understatement of the century, I #8217;m sure. But yes, I seem to lack a filter in my brain that tells me #8216;perhaps you shouldn #8217;t say that, or perhaps you shouldn #8217;t say this, because it might make the other person squirm. But wtf-ever*, I don #8217;t care.
So what are we oversharing about today?
Bikini waxes.
Um. Yeah.
Vagina waxing.
Grand.
So last year, in December, for my birthday, The Boyfriend gives me a voucher for a spa day, and tells me to choose from their menu of treatments. So I do. I decide to have a massage, (a 45 min back, neck and shoulder massage #8211; because I have issues with other people touching me, and what if a full-hour is too long and what if it freaks me out and then I have to lie there for an entire hour?) a facial, (because I want one) a manicure, (not a pedicure #8211; because I can #8217;t stand people touching my feet) an eyebrow wax and tint and an eyelash tint (because I #8217;ve never had one, and it sounds cool) and #8230; #8230;a bikini wax #8230;.
Why? Because I like to be smooth down there, and waxing seemed like the way to go, although I could never work up the balls to book an appointment for myself to get it done. And self-waxing strips at home didn #8217;t seem like an option. I mean come on #8211; who is seriously going to WAX THEIR OWN VAGINA? That would involve mirrors and staring into your own #8230;.well, you get the idea.
Shaving is fine #8211; because I #8217;ve been doing it for so long, I don #8217;t even have to look anymore.
But #8230;.back to the story.
So I decide. Vagina waxing must happen. And it must happen for my birthday.
I think nothing more of it #8211; after all #8211; I #8217;ve been through child-birth #8211; what could be worse than that, right? (Okay, so I had a c-section under general anaesthetic, but so what?) My spa day rolls around, I put on my comfy pants, make sure to put on underpants and I smoke a joint beforehand #8211; you know, to relax me #8211; and I surrender my body and face and hands to the beauticians at said spa.
The massage was wonderful. I wish it could have lasted longer. The #8220;spa manicure #8221;? That made me snort. The thing that makes it a #8220;spa #8221; manicure? They soak your hands in a bowl of warm water before they start the treatment. Seriously. The eyebrow wax and eyebrow tint and eyelash tint was cool. Took me a bit of time to adjust to having such dark eyebrows, but I will definitely do that again at the end of the month. The facial? Absolutely incredibly divine. Was still reasonably stoned at this stage, and the hot steam blowing in my face was pretty orgasmic for my skin. I  fell asleep during my 90 minute facial.
The best was clearly saved for last. The vagina wax. Initially, having no idea what varieties were on offer, I #8217;d opted for a plain bikini wax, but then when the tiny brunette beautician (or whatever the fuck they call themselves) lead me by the hand into a small, dark room and I explained to her what I wanted, it turned out to be a little bit more along the lines of what Sass describes in this post, only sans backdoor waxing** #8211; in other words #8211; a full vaginal wax.
So she tells me to take off all my clothes, put on this wrap-around towel thing and hands me a DISPOSABLE G-STRING. All neatly wrapped up in its own little box. A DISPOSABLE g-string. Like hospital broeks, but the porno version.
I lie down on the bed, she dims the lights and turns the music up. You know, really setting the romantical mood. Not. She runs her hand up my thigh and parts them. Tells me to put my one foot under my other knee. So now I #8217;m lying on the bed, in a wraparound towel, wearing a disposable g-string, with my legs waaaaiiiiiiiide open.
My face is on fire. I #8217;m trying not to think about the fact that there is a little brunette woman, standing between my legs, about to touch me in a place no one except my boyfriend has for the past three years. (Okay, my obstetrician/gynaecologist touched me there A LOT #8211; but you know, it was unavoidable and I didn #8217;t volunteer for it). She peers into a little tub that #8217;s bubbling with blue liquid, and pokes a wooden lollypop stick into it. I wont go into too much more detail here, except to say: OHMYDEARSWEETBABYJESUSINASHOPPINGCART it hurt when she pulled it off. And it was only a teeny-tiny little bit she #8217;d applied just to give me an indication of what waxing felt like.
I then understood why she #8217;d turned the music up loud. It wasn #8217;t to set the mood. It was to drown out my shrieks of #8216;OH DEAR GOD THAT FUCKING HURTS #8217; and #8216;MOTHER OF FUCK, IS *THAT* REALLY NECESSARY? #8217;. It fucking hurt, and it fucking hurt bad. Even worse was the fact that she kept touching the area she #8217;d just violated, with her fingers #8211; attempting to soothe the skin #8211; and she kept putting her face right in my crotch, and blowing vigorously on my vagina. I have no idea what for, other than the fact that it was completely mortifying. Even more so mortifying was the fact that she #8217;d have to apply pressure on my labia when pulling the wax off, to avoid pulling my entire vagina right off my body. Even though I have small, neat little lips, when wax is involved #8211; goddamn they become STRETCHY. And stretching HURTS.
A procedure that probably took in total 20 minutes, felt longer than my manicure, massage and facial combined. I was convinced she was going to kill me, and that I was going to pass out from the pain. She kept telling me that the next time I had it done it would be much less painful, and that it would progressively become less painful. #8220;WTF-EVER #8221; was all that was going through my mind.
I #8217;d initially opted to have #8216;all off #8217;. And working around the g-string #8211; what with pulling it all over the place and fiddling under it #8211; was painful. All of it was painful. I was bordering on dying of pain when eventually I said to her YOU HAVE GOT TO STOP NOW. So I conceded to having a Brazilian. A little #8216;landing strip #8217;. Mostly because I was petrified of her touching my clitoris, and mostly because that part would have been fucking painful. I chickened out, and walked out of there feeling considerably plucked, tucked and totally fucked.
My vagina was on fire #8211; it was red and puffy and I walked much like a cowboy does when he hasn #8217;t realised yet that he no longer has his horse between his legs. It was sore. And it was sore for the next 24 hours. But after that? Smooth as a baby #8217;s bottom.
And it stayed that way for longer than 3 weeks, which is great. Would I ever do it again? Probably.
But I #8217;m definitely going to apply some kind of numbing cream to my vagina beforehand. And I #8217;m definitely going to smash a bottle of vodka in the parking lot.
But I #8217;m definitely not going to ask for the same chick again. In fact, I hope that place has a high staff turnover.
Because seriously. How are you honestly supposed to look a person in the eye when they #8217;ve been looking you square in the vag for the last twenty minutes?
************************************
* I totally claim coining this word. #8216;Wtf-ever #8217; is mine, bitches.
** Maybe next time. Not.
Check out some more TMI Thursday on Liv it, Luv It.
Filed under #58; mistakes and thrills #124; 34 Comments #187;
I Stole It, Fair and Square
Posted on January 17th, 2010 by ExMi
From here.
Opening…
Do you get regular massages? Not regularly, no. Have only ever had one paid-for massage in my entire life. Sad, isn #8217;t it? The Boyfriend treated me to a spa day for my birthday last month. I enjoyed the massage, but I must say, I enjoyed the 90 minute custom facial a lot more. I actually fell asleep during my facial. Was divine.
Do you have an answering machine? I have voicemail, if that counts. Someone once told me that it sounds like I #8217;m about to burst into tears, in the message that I have on my voicemail.
What cuss word do you use the most? Only one? Gosh, there are sooo many. I #8217;d say c*nt would have to be it. Such a dirty-sounding word.
Are you underweight or overweight? Over. I #8217;ll never be a skinny girl. I got too much tits and ass for that
Can you see your veins? Yeah, on the undersides of my wrists.
Favourite…
Soap? Body Thills Jasmine, Rose amp; Ylang Ylang Body Polish
Fruit? Nectarines and plums.
Kind of red meat? Don #8217;t eat red meat.
Fish? Don #8217;t eat fish either.
Candy bar? Tempo or Twix.
Have You Ever…
Eaten a whole bag of potato chips? of course. It #8217;s my weakness.
Eaten lobster? Nope.
Climbed a mountain? Yup.
Been skydiving? Nope, too chicken. Have irrational fear of heights, can #8217;t even climb a ladder.
Been water skiing? Yeah, it #8217;s not that much fun.
Do You…
Wish you could change something about your life? Not that I can think of, off the top of my head. My life is pretty picture-perfect right now #8230;.
Like your nose? Despite The Boyfriend teasing me about having a big, pointy nose I still like it. It #8217;s perfectly straight and I think anything else wouldn #8217;t suit my face.
{Picture taken by Angel}
Like salt and vinegar chips? Yum yum.
Eat salsa? Delicious. Especially with nachos and guacamole!
Own a boat? Not me, no. But my Kid has a few plastic sailboats for the bath, if that counts
What Is…
A small thing that people let slide but that actually has dire consequences? Not dealing with an argument as it arises. Putting it off until later, or pretending everything is fine, only results in an accumulation of anger and resentment. The Boyfriend and I try to (his doing, mostly) deal with things right then and there, even if it means a public argument.
Your most macho trait? I have a zero-bullshit tolerance.
The longest relationship you’ve ever had? The Boyfriend. Three years. Two years living together. Two years parents together and three years monogamy. Big thing for me.
Your most embarrassing thoughts? I have plenty of those. It #8217;s usually my brain that #8217;s in the gutter and my mind that #8217;s thinking something wildly inappropriate.
Your most shameful moment? I list plenty of them here #8211; all tequila-fueled.
This/That…
Bath/Shower? bath.
Markers/Crayons? Markers.
Pens/Pencils? Pens.
Jelly/Cream Cheese? cream cheese #8211; absolute no brainer!
Bagel/Toast? toast.
Finish…
My greatest weakness is…impulse shopping.
I wish I was…a little bit taller
Three things I wouldn’t do for a million dollars are…eat animal testicles, eat any kind of faeces or make an absolute fool out of myself.
The oddest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth is…a little teeny-tiny piece of paper, tinier than the nail of my littlest finger #8230;
Firsts…
Credit card you had? Still don #8217;t have one. Don #8217;t want one. My Boyfriend has one.
Loan you got was for? never had one of those either.
Paycheck was for how much? Not a lot.
Time you had stitches? I was 4 or 5. I #8217;d fallen down the stairs and split my forehead open. I still have the scar over my left eye. You can only see it when I raise my eyebrows.
Time you went to the hospital for something? I was 10 or 11. I was having an osteochondroma removed/corrected.
Lasts…
List everything you ate in the last 24 hours? cheese on toast for breakfast. Chicken cooked on a braai (BBQ) last night, with a bread roll and some mayonaise. A bag of Cheese Curls, an apple and some Special K with Red Berries.
Last thing you used a credit card for? To pay an outstanding medical bill from The Kid #8217;s birth.
What was your job previous to the one you have now? Stay-at-home-mama to The Kid.
Last thing you celebrated? The Boyfriend #8217;s Brother #8217;s birthday last Sunday.
Last time you were at a sports bar? Can #8217;t even remember.
*********************************************
Quote for the week: Taken from ChinaMom04 #8217;s photostream.
Now, it #8217;s been a while since I tagged anyone to do a meme, so I thought you might forgive me if I did.
SleepyJane.
Cath Jenkin.
Angel.
Wenchy.
Cybersass.
And if you wanna do it, feel free to do it in the comments section on my blog, or even on your own blog #8230;
PS: this is what we think of people who read without commenting -
So go on. It #8217;s your time to de-lurk. We dares ya
{Picture: Day 14/365 of Project 365 #8211; see the rest here}
Filed under #58; meme, mistakes and thrills #124; 26 Comments #187;
Sometimes It Sucks To Be Right
Posted on January 16th, 2010 by ExMi
So yesterday I was driving to work with The Boyfriend #8217;s Sister. Why? Because I don #8217;t have a licence yet, and because I need to get to work somehow, right?Right. So we were listening to the news on the radio, as normal working people do on their commute, and I heard something that made my heart go cold. Something I #8217;d predicted over six years ago, finally came true.
My ex-boyfriend (of three years, four years ago) handed himself over to the police last week. He #8217;s been a wanted man for many, many years. I won #8217;t tell you what he did, suffice it to say it was illegal but did not involve drugs, prostitution, slavery, murder or theft. He handed himself over because he had no choice. They knew who he was and what he did. There was no way of getting around it. The long arm of the law, as slow and incompetent as it may be, finally caught up with him.
One of the reasons I broke up with him was directly related to this prediction of mine. That he could only remain outside of the law for so long, before eventually he slipped up and came short. At the time the prediction was made, I couldn #8217;t afford to be associated with this, or let this have any effect on my life. I was studying to be a lawyer, I intended to be a judge and I intended to work in the legal system. I couldn #8217;t have the shame and embarrassment of my boyfriend/husband being arrested and appearing in court, awaiting a guilty verdict and a sentence. I couldn #8217;t deal with that aspect of his life.
I get that what he was involved in was (relatively) harmless and I get that it was an addiction he couldn #8217;t give up on. I get that it was his life, it was who he was and it was part of the reason I fell for him in the first place. But those were things that I could deal with in the beginning, because I truly did believe that he was invincible and that he #8217;d never get caught. (Mostly because I got involved in it myself). But after a few close calls and someone telling me that the police had a file open on everyone involved (including me, although they weren #8217;t clear on my real identity yet) I realised that there #8217;s only so much cowboy-like behaviour you can display before you fall off your horse and hurt yourself, and others around you.
So I ended it with him, because he was unwilling to end it for me. For that reason, and for many others.
I left him to his own devices and completely cut him out of my life. Got updates on him from mutual friends. Thought nothing more of him, until yesterday when I heard that news bulletin. Until I was proven right. Until I was vindicated. Although with vindication usually comes a little bit of gratification. None here.
I know the consequences for him will be severe. I know the consequences for his family will be severe. I know that those around him will be hurt and unfairly so. It was selfish of him to do what he did, for so long. But nonetheless, he was a good person regardless, and I hope the universe gives him some leniency.
And although I closed the door on that chapter of my life a long time ago, and although I have absolutely no feelings of any sort left for that man, as someone who spent a long time in my life, and who inspired me to do so many different, new things and explore an entirely different side of life, I really do hope he #8217;s okay.
And I hope he now understands why I did what I did and said what I said, all those years ago.
If only he #8217;d listened #8230;
But mostly I have no regrets and no real empathy. Why? Because all the choices he made lead him to where he is today. And all the choices I made, lead me to where I am today.
Today is this. This is where it #8217;s at for me. And this is all that matters to me.
{Photo: Day 7 of 365: View the rest of my Project 365 here.}
Filed under #58; mistakes and thrills #124; 8 Comments #187;
Things I #8217;ve Learnt This Last Week
Posted on January 13th, 2010 by ExMi
1. It #8217;s kinda cool to wake up before everyone else in my house. And if I get everything ready (ie: The Kid #8217;s school stuff and my work stuff) then the hour or so before everyone else wakes up is mine. And while I spend it yawning my face off, I #8217;m enjoying the peace and quiet before heading off to sit in an office with six other people.
2. I miss my Kid during the day, I really do. But a small teeny tiny part of me is happy to be out of the house, happy that he #8217;s someone else #8217;s problem for a few hours and happy that there is adult conversation around me.
3.Despite the adult conversation and despite getting out of the house, I still can #8217;t wait for home time when I get to go pick him up, take him home and tell him I missed him. His face lights up and he asks #8220;Mommy missed me? #8221; and I reply with a squeeze and a kiss and tell him to go get on his motorbike, we #8217;re going for a ride down the road. I love the way he stops to pick flowers for me, chats to me about his day.
4. I love the way I seem to have more patience for him now. Obviously I had a finite amount of patience that had to be stretched out over a longer time period and now that I #8217;m away from him more, I don #8217;t have to try make my small amount of patience go further, it just does.
5. I like the people I work with, I like the things that I do during the day. I like that I get so wrapped up in what I #8217;m doing that I barely have the inclination to Twitter as much as previously. I like that everyone is so accommodating and helpful with the things I #8217;m still trying to get a grasp of.
6. I miss my Boyfriend during the day, but the whole saying #8216;absence makes the heart grow fonder #8217;, really is true. When I get home, it #8217;s nice to cuddle on the couch, get loads of kisses and actually have conversation for each other because we haven #8217;t pissed each other off by being in the other #8217;s face all day long.
7. I #8217;ve managed to cut down quite drastically on the whole smoking front. Instead of buying a box a day, I #8217;ve only had to buy two boxes this week. Which is super-impressive. I know it #8217;s because smoking in an office environment is a hassle. But it #8217;s cool. While I #8217;m in no rush to quit, it #8217;s nice to know I #8217;m smoking a bit less, and The Boyfriend seems to be impressed as well.
8. Keeping busy keeps me out of trouble. All sorts of trouble. And that #8217;s all I #8217;m saying about that.
9. I miss my comfy pants, and I miss walking around all day barefoot. And wearing underwear is a pain in the ass (no pun intended) it #8217;s hard to remember to brush my hair and take my vitamins and pack my lunch and make sure I don #8217;t forget anything I need and it feels a bit like being back at varsity/school in terms of having to be organised and packed, but it #8217;s cool. I dig it.
10. I know there is so much I #8217;m missing out on every day. And it makes my heart very, very sore.
But what can you do, right?
Filed under #58; mistakes and thrills #124; 7 Comments #187;
Don #8217;t Get Me Wrong: F*ck Off
Posted on January 12th, 2010 by ExMi
The Boyfriend has these #8220;friends #8221;. I use this term loosely, and when I #8217;ve refered to them on this blog previously, I #8217;ve called them #8216;The Disgustingtons #8217;. And well  disgusting they are indeed. Let me give you an example. They got married on Valentine #8217;s Day. It was a red-and-white affair. Even though having been somewhat of a slut (and again, I use this term loosely) before getting married #8211; she wore a WHITE wedding dress. I have issues with that. It #8217;s my personal thing, and I do believe that it makes sense to only wear white if you #8217;re getting married as a VIRGIN. Not a loose trollop. (Again, the word #8216;loose #8217;).
Despite these issues. Despite a lot of arguments with them and despite the guy (we #8217;ll call him Mr Disgustington) telling my Boyfriend that the fact that he went out on weekends and got occasionally drunk and may or may not have indulged once or twice in recreational substances MADE HIM A BAD FATHER. The fact that our Kid was with his grandmother, well-taken care of, and that we had the night off as parents, meant nothing. Judgmental. And there #8217;s nothing I hate more than a judgmental judger. No one has the right to call MY Boyfriend a bad father. Because really, that #8217;s the LAST thing he is.
So anyway, I was relieved to be informed (just over a year or so) that they would be moving to Cape Town. I figured they would become a non-entity in his life, and I wouldn #8217;t actually have to be rude and tell them both to fuck off, that they #8217;re unpleasant people, and they #8217;re fucking know-it-all idiots who deserve each other.
I smiled and I waved them off at the airport. Made sure they left. Went back to my life. Didn #8217;t even register that they were no longer a factor in our lives, other than the fact that I didn #8217;t have to constantly worry about bumping into them at the supermarket or video store or petrol station on account of the fact that they lived virtually across the road from us.
I heard via the grapevine that they #8217;d got involved in The Church. Now, I use capitalisation there, because I have issues with The Church, and organised religion. I have issues with someone telling me how to run my spiritual life. I have issues with someone telling me I have to pay them a portion of MY hard-earned cash every month. I have issues with all of that, because it makes no sense to me.
Let me make a little bit of a sidetrack here, so you can see where my issues come from. My dad had this friend, Ray, when I was growing up and the story he told me about Ray, or Padre as my dad called him, was that he #8217;d been heavy into drugs, nearly overdosed bla bla bla. Found Jesus, built himself a cross and carried it across Natal, preaching in the villages and to anyone who would listen. He eventually went on to become someone important at a specific church and acquired a certain amount of wealth and possessions and status as a result, but became disillusioned with it all. Gave up the flashy cars, the posh house and all the money and decided to let God provide for him and his family.
He started a congregation at a community hall, and I remember gatherings of up to a hundred people (small, yes) listening to his message. His message was basically this: You don #8217;t have to go through The Church to get to God. You don #8217;t have to pay money every month to have God listen to you. It #8217;s not a subscription service and compulsory tithing is unnecessary. You don #8217;t have to step foot inside a formalised church building to have a relationship with God. Why? Because Jesus is the church. You need to go through Jesus in order to have a relationship with God (granted in my mind they are one and the same person). Nor do you have to be overally vocal and demonstrative in your relationship with him.  Whatever works for you, works for you. That The Church had become perverted and no longer served its original purpose.
So firmly did he believe that The Church should not be a money-making scheme, that when I say he relied on God to provide for his family, I mean exactly that. The car they drove was loaned by someone he knew, the house they lived in was a donation, the food in their bellies were donations too, and the kids #8217; schooling was free of charge. They never had money, but they never wanted for the basics. And to me, I could see that their relationship with religion worked. And while religion never really appealed to me (mostly because I got it shoved down my throat all day, every day at school) I was cool with them having their beliefs, and I was even more cool with the fact that they never tried to thrust those beliefs on me or my family. They allowed us to have our own beliefs and our own way of doing things.
Not The Disgustingtons. They have joined the SERIOUSLY happy-clapper church. The rock band and disco lights vibe. They #8217;ve become counsellors in The Church and have totally changed from who they used to be. Not for the better. If I thought they were judgmental before, it #8217;s even fucking worse now. Mr Disgustington stopped by yesterday, as he was in Joburg on business. We sat outside chatting to him, I offered that he stay for dinner, I made him copious cups of coffee, I was polite and nice and conversational and I thought I was making an effor to be A NICE PERSON. I sat there and didn #8217;t say anything as he told my Boyfriend not to swear. Even though my first instinct was to tell him to SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FUCKING DEAL WITH IT. That the only person we might tone our language down for would be our Kid, and even then we don #8217;t always get it right.
I sat there, I was nice to him. And hugged him goodbye. My Boyfriend dropped him off at his mothers #8217; house and should have been home ten minutes later. Two and a half hours later he comes home with a face like a thundercloud. And starts ranting on about how his friend has been telling him all about The Church and how much peace he #8217;s found since he #8217;s been #8217;set alight by the fire of God #8217; and how this guy says that he doesn #8217;t see our relationship working and he doesn #8217;t see it reaching the stage of marriage, because I #8217;m not willing to be one of those women who lets her man #8216;lead the family #8217; (ie: be submissive to him and his rule) and because I #8217;m not willing to go to church and I #8217;m not willing to let The Boyfriend find the peace that only God can bring.
A whole lot of other bullshit came with this too, but I #8217;m not going to go into it. Mostly because it #8217;s exactly that. Bullshit. They #8217;re making judgments on our life that they know absolutely DIDDLYFUCKINGSQUAT about. They #8217;re making judgments on me, because I refuse to buy into organised religion. I didn #8217;t have a problem with the stuff he said, I had a problem with the fact that he waited until I wasn #8217;t around before he said it. That he tried to fill my Boyfriend #8217;s head with bullshit lies and that I wasn #8217;t there to be able to tell him exactly where to get off. It was cowardly. A true friend wouldn #8217;t try and fill your head with doubts and make you second-guess yourself if you mentioned the fact that you wanted to marry the mother of your child. Especially if the mother of your child is ME.
So we spent a good portion of last night arguing. Arguing over our respective views of religion, arguing over our relationship and arguing over a lot of #8216;what ifs #8217;. More bullshit. The bottom line is, and I told him this: We are meant to be together. The fact that we had a child together was merely cementing the fact that we were MEANT to be together, and ensuring that both of us make the effort and put in the energy to learn to deal with the shit that would have otherwise broken us up if there was no Kid in the equation. To work through them so we can reach a point that it would be okay for The Kid to go to boarding school, and the centre of our lives and focus could switch from The Kid to each other.
The bottom line is: there are no accidents. There are no coincidences and everything happens for a reason.
I #8217;m glad The Disgustingtons have found something that works for them, something that makes them happy. But I have made it clear to my Boyfriend in no uncertain terms that they are not allowed in my house. I do not want to hear about them, I do not want to see them and I do not want anything to do with them.
Why? Because no one tells ME how to live MY life, and that #8217;s exactly what those fuckers are trying to do. The cherry on top? The Boyfriend comes home last night with a gift in his hand for The Kid, from the Judgmentalists. A belated gift for his SECOND birthday.
Guess what it is? A children #8217;s Bible.
Hold me.
Filed under #58; mistakes and thrills #124; 31 Comments #187;
Current Obsessions
Posted on January 10th, 2010 by ExMi
From here.
Book: Book Twelve of The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan.
Snack: macadamia nut honey brittle from the Peels Honey Shop in the Midlands.
Restaurant: Primi Piatti in Stoneridge Centre. Love their pizza and Frozen Margaritas.
Beverage: H20, always. I drink nearly 5 litres a day.
Decor: This mirror is my favourite decor piece in my bedroom.
Actor: Jay Mewes.
Actress: really can #8217;t think of one.
Movie: Zack and Miri Make a Porno and Dogma. Re-watched both of them this holiday #8211; sheer comic genius #8211; love, love, love Kevin Smith movies.
TV show: Rather excited for the Season 6 premier of Grey #8217;s Anatomy on the 18th of this month #8211; desperate to find out who dies #8211; Izzie or George.
Hobby: my Project 365 #8211; a photo a day. Check it out. Leave me some comments. I #8217;m taking a photo a day, using only my Blackberry.
Band: Still, always #8211; Breaking Benjamin. It #8217;s all I have on my iPod, which means it #8217;s all that gets played in the car. Even The Boyfriend is starting to learn all the words to the songs.
Song: Lights Out
Meme: this one.
Blog: Random Thoughts From Underneath the Table.
Lover: The Boyfriend
Friend: SleepyJane. She who was my co-pilot on Friday on a long trip to Alberton. A trip that should have taken 19 minutes according to Google Maps on my phone, took nearly an hour due to bad directions from Google Maps on my phone. Kept telling us to #8220;head south west #8221; or #8220;head north east #8221; #8211; wtf? do I LOOK LIKE I HAVE AN INTERNAL COMPASS? Well, I don #8217;t.
She who helped me queue-jump and kept me entertained at the licencing department, while paying for and confirming my second drivers #8217; licence test. She who didn #8217;t freak out at my dodgy driving and mean-ass U-turn skills, robot-jumping and #8220;oh was that a stop street? I totally paused #8221; moments. Thanks, sugarpants.
Quote: #8220;Everything is inevitable #8221;
Peeve: people who chew audibly.
Sport: what #8217;s that? I don #8217;t do no sport. I don #8217;t watch no sport.
Singer: Benjamin Burley.
What #8217;re yours?
******************************************************
Yup, that #8217;s us. Checkin #8217; you out, watchin #8217; you fill in that comments form. Compellin #8217; you to fill in that comments form.
Go on, do it.
Filed under #58; meme, mistakes and thrills #124; 15 Comments #187;
Notes From The Passive-Agressive Side
Posted on January 6th, 2010 by ExMi
Filed under #58; mistakes and thrills #124; 12 Comments #187;
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