Thursday, March 13, 2008

Blog Transplant...

Sometimes drastic events call for drastic measures.

Call me paranoid. I don't care.

I'm transplanting my blog to a secret location. The whole lot.

And then deleting them from this site.

My only regret is I've lost all Your wonderful comments.

Pretty soon this blog won't exist anymore.


To anyone I know and trust in Blogland I open up the invitation.

Leave a comment here if you wish to know the new website details.

It currently has got 65 posts transplanted from Me Myself Eye.

I hope You All find Me again.

Except for the One's who I wish to escape.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

The Special Two..

"The Special Two"

I've hardly been outside my room in days,
'cause I don't feel that I deserve the sunshine's rays.
The darkness helped until the whiskey wore away,
And it was then I realize the conscience never fades.
When you're young you have this image of your life:
That you'll be scrupulous and one day even make a wife.
And you make boundaries you'd never dream to cross,
And if you happen to you wake completely lost.
But I will fight for you, be sure that
I will fight until we're the special two once again.

And we will only need each other, we'll bleed together,
Our hands will not be taught to hold another's,
When we're the special two.
And we could only see each other, we'll bleed together,
These arms will not be taught to need another,
'Cause we were the special two.

I remember someone old once said to me:
"That lies will lock you up with truth the only key."
But I was comfortable and warm inside my shell,
And couldn't see this place would soon become my hell.
So is it better to tell and hurt or lie to save their face?
Well I guess the answer is don't do it in the first place.
I know I'm not deserving of your trust from you right now,
But if by chance you change your mind you know I will not let you down
'cause we were the special two, and we'll be again.

And we will only need each other, we'll bleed together,
Our hands will not be taught to hold another's,
When we're the special two.
And we can only see each other we'll breathe together,
These arms will not be taught to need another...
'cause we're the special two.

I step outside my mind's eye's for a minute.
And I look over me like a doctor looking for disease,
Or something that could ease the pain.
But nothing cures the hurt you, you bring on by yourself,
Just remembering, just remembering how we were...

When we would only need each other, we'd bleed together,
Our hands would not be taught to hold another's,
We were the special two.
And we could only see each other, we'd bleed together,
These arms would not be taught to need another,
'Cause we're the special two.

Lyrics by Missy Higgins

Two Years Ago...

I wrote This...

Fifteen Years Down The Fucking Drain...

Well I've done it now.

I think I left my Hubby a few hours ago. I suppose I have. I've told him I'm done with our relationship and I'm sitting on my Mother's back verandah. It's almost one thirty am.

I been crying all evening since I've been here but that's hardly surprising; fifteen years down the fucking drain by the look of things. I feel sick thinking about a life without him. How am I gonna explain this to the kids- or to his Mother- or to myself? I've sat here for hours listening to my Brother-in-law and Sister and Mother give me sound words of advice- like who to call in the morning- everyone from Centrelink to a counsellor to my Mother-in-law to see if she really meant good when she told me that if my Hubby and I ever broke up then the house was 'mine' for me and the kids. I don't want it to be mine. I want it to be ours.

I won't sleep tonight- I'm too upset to sleep; especially in my Father's bed (he's gone camping at the beach)- how fucked would that be? I should be at home where I belong. I know in my heart I need to do this; we can't keep going round and round in circles fighting every second minute. The stupidest part is what we fight over- inane things like cordial flavours or Playdoh on the carpet in my Son's room- or which songs I played on the jukebox with my friend M the other night.

He says the issue is me not wanting to come home when he is ready to go.

My issue is that he called me an unfit Mother to be raising our kids while threatening to sign their custody over to my Mother as punishment for my continued drunkeness.

Mum says there's no way he'd do it- and besides, she would have to contest their custody as well or else how stupid will he look giving them away after he had just won custody for himself? Not that it's going to happen. It's just another idle threat to see if I'll change my wicked ways.

Which are? I'm not sure.

Getting some friends at last perhaps? Writing two books about being mental? Not sleeping all day on the couch like I used to? Keeping the house and yard so much nicer than ever before? Why didn't he call me an alchoholic when I was drinking three litres of wine on the lounge every night?

Why does he have to be so cruel to get his point across? Why does he deny what he says in the morning? How can he accuse me of making rude comments to Macca or make out that M hadn't even called me when my Sister was right there next to me and Remembers her calling me and asking me to go down to the pub? When I defend myself he asks me why- but how can I not defend myself when I am accused of lies?

The Psychologist Guy was right- he said I'd eventually pay for my fun. But then we both drink and take drugs- not so many bongs for him these days but he loves getting on the E's as much as the next person. We're all designer drug addicts...

The point I wanted to make went unheard- he didn't want to hear what my issues were with him- they weren't interesting enough to keep him listening to me and so instead he yells and talks over and down at me. I can't do it anymore no matter how much I love him.

Love? Do I still?

Or is it perhaps changing that I'm scared about?

Either way I'm getting a job this year. If we get back together he'll only continue to bring to my attention that it's him who earns all the money. He can keep it. I never wanted it anyway.

I just wanted him to like me- even from the very start when he gave me a fake name so he wouldn't have to see me again. He won't listen to a word that comes out of my mouth without treating it as lies or bullshit. He took my bankcards and all the money(actually I gave them to him but only as he insisted upon it) because he thought that if I left I would only go to the pub tonight and spend all HIS money. I thought that's what alcoholic wives did for a living?

How stupid can I be? Fifteen years? No one said it lad to last forever but I can't imagine it not. It hurts and upsets me to think of a life without him in it. Now I've got friends and I haven't got my Hubby. I don't want to go back to my life on the couch, don't you see? Why is it so hard to listen to me or speak nicely without all the 'Fuck off you're mental' speeches thrown in?

I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll be fucked if I'm going to live at my Mother's; me and the kids shouldn't have to live in a spare room and he's being a fuckwit if that's what he actually expects when he's the one who could quite comfortably live in a spare room at his mate's. And then there's the schools- if I have to move to some cheap-arsed suburb like Wingate then that's where our little Son is going to end up going to school.

I don't even want to break up- I just want him to stop and listen and stop calling me horrible names and just let me be myself- that Chick in the photo on the fridge with the springy-Santa hat who is smiling and happy. I want him to go to a counsellor with me so that he will listen to me long enough to hear what I am saying are MY issues with the relationship- instead of only getting to listen to what's fucked about me and why I'M ruining our relationship.

Am I the one saying things that can't be taken back? I probably did when I broke up with him. Maybe he won't even remember -he was drunk afterall. He probably thinks I'm at the pub now- squandering his money calling his mate a derro to his face. As if I would. I know in my heart I didn't do any of these things- from kissing Alistair on the couch(a ten-year oldy but one that still comes out from time to time) to supposedly making up that my Sister's were at my house last Saturday night even though he was THERE and he SAW them.

He stole my penis rock and clear marble and hid them in the car that night they went missing- there's no other way he would have 'known' they were down the side of the driver's chair because if they'd just fallen out of my pocket then he never would have noticed. Also they went missing the same night we fought and I knew they were gone Before I went bed. It's only a small thing- but he knows how much I love that rock and he hates it when I ring it out at parties or at the pub.

I wrote him a letter and showed him my 'mental cartoons'- I stayed up late making a new one that had UNFIT written on my t'shirt underneath a banner saying Happy Mother's Day. It isn't finished yet though there's not much point really. I posted the letter on my blog- it's alright nobody really reads it except for me- mostly only other bloogers who want to spam my site with their own crap in the hope I'll look up their site(No-not Gemnastics or Jenny Wynter or Riva- the only people who've actually left actual comments). Fat chance. I couldn't be bothered.

Looks like I'm going to kill this pen- the nib is fucked already. Pity.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Tails Of A Bramaged Drain...

Pun's on words...

I just realised that my deliberately mispelling of words occasionally is at least one of the things that led hubby to conclude last night that I am suffering from acute alcoholic brain damage disorder and am in desperate need of a cat scan to determine the extent.

And That right there, People, is a sentence I just thought of in my brain.

It is an example of an Exact thought process.

Something I'm sure a person suffering from such an extreme and debilatating disease couldn't coherently, um, what's the word? Decipher.

So; it's Official!

I'm officially Crazy!

Hubby knows about my trips to the Psychologist Guy. All about them. Just don't ask him to tell You what he knows because he'll suddenly go all secretive and refuse to answer your questions. Even after he told me he would answer Any and All questions I had for him because he wanted to come back to this house and live here with Me and the kids. I told him (and he agreed at the time) that it was my right to be suspicious of him for a while; especially after what he had divulged to me that week. All along I was right. He did fuck Angie. Even after denying it last week. Even after stating categorically No He Did Not Fuck Angie. He wouldn't have told me unless I'd found out. Apparently even my Sister knew before I did. He told Wemmaly before he told me. He told them I knew before they did. But the Truth is I Didn't.

So I asked him questions. Very specific questions.

"So you Did fuck her?"

We were standing in the kitchen; last Saturday night. In case he can't remember.

"Did you growl her out?"

"Did she give you head?"

Because I needed to know.


He Said...

Then took it back. And said Yes. Smiling like an Idiot.

She'd taken advantage of him; he thought. He said he was asleep drunk on her couch and she'd come over to Comfort him.

Don't You remember your Exact words, hubby?

Because I sure the Fuck Do.

Apparently I can't do a simple task when I am under duress...

To prove This point hubby threw an egg-ring at me last night. It was a bad throw.

But even so I caught it. Left handed.

Apparently I Used to be intelligent.

It's my contention that I still am.

Today I'll try to get my alcohol bramaged drain to remember to ask my Boss J to write me a note of Competence. I'll limp straight into her office and demand it.

Did I forget to tell You All I have four stitches in my big toe?

Because I tripped over a computer cord last Friday morning and split the mother in fucking two?

And I'm putting my shoe on Every day and going into work like a Fucking Trooper?

Funny; it was probably my bramaged drain that caused me to fall over. Sober. At seven in the morning.

No shit. It fucking hurts.

My toe didn't break.

But my heart Has...

So; he told Me that he's had Another opportunity since Then.

I asked Specific questions.

"Was it Angie?"

No. Wemmaly. He Said "She had told Twink she thought she might take her revenge on Me by sleeping with my husband." For ruining her life that is what I should get.

So I wrote her a note and stuck it under her door the next time I was at Twink's.

(And No; Wemmaly. In answer to your last text message to hubby I did Not go through your room. It's ironic though; that I found the question whilst looking through his phone, don't you think?)

"I guess we're even now. I rang Willy. You tried to fuck hubby. I did it because I loved you. I have no clue of your motivation. I thought better of you."

I admit I didn't know the full details at the time. But when we got home I asked him for them.

"Tell me about Wemmaly".

Then he did the talking and I listened.

He Said she'd flashed her gash at him on more then one occasion...

He Said that he can tell the difference between a friendly hug and one that's willing to Give More.

He Said she had a disgusting arse and that he would never fuck someone who had a heroin addiction and made their living as a prostitute.

And Those words my Friends; are about as Verbatim as I can get on a page.

Pretty good for Someone with Drain Bramage...

Dontcha Fink?

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

TMI Tuesday (On A Wednesday)...

1. What's the sexiest gesture a person you are sexually interested in can make?

Brain contact.

2. What are 3 inevitable things about you?

I will die. I will never be religious. I am unisexual.

3. How many types of orgasms have you experienced?

Clitoral. Vaginal. Anal. Simultaneous. Multiple. Lone.

4. What asset do you have besides the physical and the material?

The Mental.

5. What do you want . . . . now?

More alcohol.

Bonus (as in optional):describe a sexy mind.


Monday, February 11, 2008

(Could You Leave Me With A) Scar...

He left a card, a bar of soap and a scrubbing brush next to a note
That said "use these down to your bones"
And before I knew I had shiny skin and it felt easy being clean like him
I thought "this one knows better than I do"

A triangle trying to squeeze through a circle
He tried to cut me so I'd fit

And doesn't that sound familiar? Doesn't that hit too close to home?
Doesn't that make you shiver; the way things could've gone?
And doesn't it feel peculiar when everyone wants a little more?
And so that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?

Lyrics by Missy Higgins

More Like Last Week...

So where was I?

Oh yeah. That's right...

But before I begin I might clarify something.

When I had hubby crying a few weeks ago about rooting Angie I assumed his inability to discuss the situation with Me was a sure sign of his guilt. For not only could he not look me in the eye and admit to me What he had done, when I asked him directly if he had fucked her too, or at least worn a condom, he walked away without answering; shaking his head with what seemed like remorse. Or regret.

Apparently it was neither.

Because Now the story is that he didn't fuck her at all. Which is what he Should have said when I asked him; especially if he didn't want me to assume that he had. Especially if he ever expected Me to believe any differently.

So anyway; hubby had the shits at me all week. Mainly for discussing the sordid details of my Life with all and sundry. Even You; the Blogging Public. Well; it's my fucking life; ain't it? Aren't I allowed to vent my emotions to my friends? I can't help if the gossip includes him too. He's the fucking cause of the shit most of the time.

So I'd told Jen Jen. And M. And C. And Bar Chick. I even told my boss J. When he found out he cracked it. Told me off for Villifying Angie to all 'our' friends when none of It (whatever the fuck It was) had been her fault. Because she had been under the impression we were broken up (which could only have come from him, right; I hadn't seen or talked to her in months). Oh; and by the way he hadn't even fucked her. And neither had Golden Shower Boy. And neither had Twink.

I told him I couldn't wait to see CC. And that I'd tell her, too. And that I'd seen Mac's niece K at the pub that day and that apparently Ange had now shacked up with the father of K's kid.

Hubby, who thinks K is crazy, disputed this as rubbish. And went off about me talking to K about this at all. I told him I didn't go to her with Any of this. She had seen my car at the pub and ran in to see me and tell me Angie was up to it again; except this time with the fella she's been trying to work it out with. K already knew about hubby being with Angie; because her ex, S, had told her Angie had said it had happened 'weeks ago'.

More like Last week.

Fucking Semantics...

I honestly thought I was doing my utmost to sort things out with hubby; if nothing else aren't I proving to him that I'll stick by him through Everything. Even though almost everyone who knows the extent of the shit I've put up with off him tell me he's had enough second chances. Maybe the trouble is he's never had to ask for a second chance. I've always given them. Freely.

So; Wednesday came around...

Hubby was down at the Pub and I joined him after I had finished work. It was too late for a counter lunch so we decided to buy hamburgers and have an early tea with the kids. At three o'clock I left to collect little Son from school; leaving hubby and Fido there for a few more beers.

When I got home I noticed hubby's phone was sitting on the bench. Presuming that hubby had called Fido on it before leaving for the Pub I picked it up and hit the Recently Used button. My name popped up as the last call made. And beneath my name was her's. Angie's. And he had called her two days previously. On Monday.

So I went through his messages. And up she popped.

Angie: Hi hubby! :) I am going down the Pub tonight can you give me the heads up if Buffoon is planning on being there. Thanks :)

So, Me being Me, I messaged her back. Off hubby's phone.

Me: Heads up slut. Buffoon knows everything. Lose this number bitch. I better not see you.

Press Send.

Then I rang Fido's phone. Asked to speak to hubby.

Hubby: You're calling off my phone?

Me: Yeah. Funny what you find in a phone.

Hubby: I'll explain it to you when I get home.

Me: It's too late. I already sent her a message. I just...Reacted.

Then I went out for a while with little Son. When I got back (with dinner) he was there but told me he wasn't staying.

Because I'd done what he'd told Me 'Not To Do'.

I hid his keys when he was in the shower; when he told me he'd only hate me more for keeping them from him I gave them back. And packed a bag for little Son and Myself. And left. I figured the only way to keep him at home by this point is to leave myself.

Then he would stay. With Me. Us. Right?

I rang my Mother and told her just to drive eldest Son back to her house; because that's where we'd be. I rang my Mother-in-law and asked if the three of us could stay there for a few days. Then, realising eldest Son's girlfriend's mother was picking up g/f from My house I messaged hubby. To get him to tell g/f's mother that she was at my Mother's house.

He rang. Said he wasn't at home. Said he had no hope left for Us.

I messaged him to say that seeing as he was staying at Twink's I would sleep back at the house with the kid's. I presumed he'd get rat-faced drunk and sleep on the couch.

The kid's and I returned home at eight o'clock. We had a peaceful night.

Then; at 12.30 his car pulls up. He comes into the kitchen where I was sitting on the bench smoking. He told me he didn't think I was going to be here or else he wouldn't have come home. I told him I'd sent him a message saying the kids and I would be staying at the house if he wasn't going to. He told me he'd turned his phone off to avoid my messages. I told him the only reason he was here (and had drunk-drove home) was because there was no room on the lounge next to Pak. And he couldn't fit.

We were screaming at each other by this stage; I can only hope the kid's were still asleep.

He told me Repeatedly that It was all over. Over. For some reason I found myself justifying Myself. For going through his phone (to tell him I would bring hamburgers home for tea; if I really Had been checking up on him via his messages surely I would have found it on Monday when it happened, not on Wednesday when we were buying hamburgers). For causing him to seek affection from other people; look at he state our relationship is in (Just what Was your sob story to her; that you needed a shoulder to cry on; don't tell me you were crying to her about Me; that makes me feel ill) For that I got called a bitch. For villifying Angie when she was the innocent party in all this; (hang on what did I do that made you go there, why wasn't the affection I gave you All Last Week and the week before fucking enough). That if I had questions about what had happened with Angie I should have asked him and he would've told me anything I wanted to know (no; he didn't. I asked. And He had walked away without a word of denial).

Then he went to sleep. On the lounge.

I went to bed, too.

And I slept like shit...

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

Smut Meme...

This is Martin's fault;apparently. And also Gempire's fault.

I have been tagged. I'm supposed to answer things and link things and while I'm up for a little disclosure tonight I have no web sense and will struggle to set the links up. However; feel free to play along from home if you like. If I must tag two other people to do the Smut Meme I choose Miss Understood and Enchantress. And if they wish to play along I'd like to see Suze (or Alex's) answers. Or Grump's. Anyone really.

You're welcome to post it on your blogs. You must call it the Smut Meme, you must link to me in the beginning paragraph, and you must tag 2 people, and link to them as well. Oh, and you must post this little blurb of instructions at the beginning, as has been done here.

Are we ready? Here comes the Facts. I'm in a shit of a mood; just in case you can't tell. There are reasons which I won't go into right now; except to say that he's gone.


Except this time I don't think he'll be back...


1. Chocolate or Whipped Cream:

On what? Eclairs? I love eclairs. With chocolate and whipped cream. Can't I have both?

2. Leather or PVC:

You can't beat the small of leather; preferably as a saddle.

3. Outdoor Sex or Indoor Sex:

Indoor. Unless it's your first time. Then you might go for a treehouse.

4. In the Jacuzzi or In Bed?

Bed. But please don't wake me up unless you absolutely have to.

5. Bad Sex or No Sex:

No sex. For days. Am I missing out?

6. Dominate or Be Dominated:

Dominated. Always.

7. Thigh highs or Bodystocking:

Would it make a difference?

8. Fast or Slow:

Fast. Then back to sleep I go Yoda-Son.

9. Rough or Gentle:

Apparently I like being choked whilst fucking slow. It's a quirk I must have.

10. Bite or Suck:

Depends how much I like You.

11. Role play or Reality:

Reality. Literally.

12. Dirty Talking or Dirty Talking To:

I just swear at people. I think I have Tourettes's.

13. Edible panties or No Panties:

I'm a nudist. Next.

14. Spanking paddle or Bare-handed:

None of the above.

15. Landing Strip or Kojak:


16. Multiple Sessions or One Good Fuck:


17. Moaning or Screaming:

You have to be pretty good to illicit any response at all from me.

18. Older (Wo)men or Young (Wo)men:

Anyone who can put up with an embarrassment.

19. Threeway or No Way:

All the way.

20. Swing or No Swinging:

I wish I had when I had the Chances.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

(Everythings Just Fucking ) Peachy...

It's not my fault, it can't be my fault that you speak to me the way you do.
Now I'm split in two, I'm half me half you but I hate us both, don't you?

No of course you don't, of course you don't
You said life is peachy without me
Of course you don't, of course you don't
You said life is peachy without me

It's not your fault, it can't be your fault that I let you crawl inside my head
Cause you know my places, and know that face but I hate this taste, don't you?

No of course you don't, of course you don't
You said life is peachy without me
Of course you don't, of course you don't
You said life is peachy without me


Lyrics by Missy Higgins