My Mate Macca...

I can tell you all my secrets Macca.

You were there when most of my secrets happened.

Sad...But True

I couldn't throw a crayfish in a lobster pot.

December Twenty-third Two Thousand and Five...

Happy New Christmas!

A Little Bit About Me...

I'm the stoned chick with an innertube called Bill Oddie who offered Gemnastics a threesome because she reminds me of my Hubby's ex -and now she's the ninety-sixth visitor to my blog.

Perfect Match...

We are perfect for each other.

I'm needy and he needs someone to look after him.

The Text Of The Year...

People who live in glass onions shouldn't throw stones.

Suffria...Suffria...Suffria...

The words I used when I tried to smother my sister with her pillow.

Lucky me...

Luckily for me my alcoholism overrides my agoraphobia.

Otherwise I'd never make it to the pub at all.

Havoc...

All this bong-smoking...

It's playing havoc with my pleurisy.

Just For The Record...

I can walk out that door whenever the fuck I feel like it.

Three Things...

What do John Howard, broccoli and red cordial have in common?

They are the last three things my Hubby and I have had a fight about.

I'm So Post-Modern...

...I smoked a pen.

...I drink alchohol while I meditate.

...I plucked my own Brazilian.

Three Wishes...

I wish I could be the person that I am- when He's not around- that I am all of the time; as well as when I'm with him.

I wish He was as nice to me as he is to the strangers that he meets.

I wish for three more wishes.

Fuck Off...

I prefer my own company

A Different Chat Up Line...

"Has a half-pissed construction worker ever told you that you look like Demi Moore?"

Well; not until that moment- no.

Driving is an art...

Driving is an art...and I'm an artist.

For John The Painter...

I hope I was a sight for your sore eyes.

Get Well Buddy.

One for the Mums...

Only a mother would know that a coat hanger is aerodynamic

My First Poem...Since Ages Ago

I may just be a housewife Now
I don't have any money
But I am thinking of a plan and
It's seriously funny
I'll sell my book one day- you'll see
Though you'd rather watch it burn
But that's because it's full of hate and all the nastiness I've heard
Then I'll be rich; I'll buy this house
Though I'd rather have another
And then I'll kick your arse straight out
And You'll go home to mother.

My Kind Of People...

The person who loves me best calls me things like Fingerpuppet.

The person I like to talk to the most calls me things like Cumrag and Yoghurt Slit.

The person who I value as my truest friend at the moment told me to get back to my truckstop at

Izzo- which for those of you who don't know is a scuzz suburb near mine full of whores and junkies.

My kind of people.

Really.