My Best Friend Hopes i Get Violated By A Pterodactyl

And that's why she is my best friend. Also she is the only one who reads my blog and the only one i dont mind reading my blog. Oh and she doesn't notice the missing words. I would tell you her name but you would so totally want to be her friend and edge me out.

Which totally does not make sense because she is the only one that reads my blog.....

This is for her.

Crazy Glue Kicks Clag's Ass In the Treatment of Broken People.

So how do you fix anything that's broken? Well, im guessing in America you could fix them with Crazy Glue. Im an Aussie though so all we have is Clag. I'm pretty sure that Clag never really fixed anything including one piece of paper to another. Actually based on what i know of all the kids that ate Clag in primary school all it does is fuck you up ... well fuck you up more. I'm pretty sure that the type of person that enjoyed dining on Clag already you already had issues. If you are a Clag consumer and you are reading this ... well done and how are you doing sunshine? I didn't expect you to make it past Grug books.

I have spent a large part of this week broken. Not irrevocably shattered, just a little bit broken... well more broken then normal. Actually ive always been a bit broken and its hard to pin point w.hen it started exactly. Mum says she didn't drop me on my head (not that she would admit it) however she did encourage me to ride large, slightly broken (as in the brain not as in broken in) horses and laugh at me when i did fall on my head. This, i am convinced, is just being dropped on my head by proxy.

I dont think it was horses that broke me though i think it was fellow humans. I was not the popular kid in high school, in fact i was the drifter, the one that just hung out with a different group every day. I blame my parents, i went to so many different primary schools as a kid i was never properly socialised. I wasnt as bad as the kid that used to fling his desk across the room and wiped his ass on other peoples folders (well mine) but i was the kid that was a bit fat, a bit ugly and had the second hand clothes from the op shop. I had a couple of friends but only one who i still contact on a bi annual basis. Actually i think i know when the first cracks started but im not willing to go there and deal with that yet, even though i know this blog is just a ripple in the whole of the internet that no one reads.

High School was when i first decided that the best way to stop the pain being broken was to kill myself. Of course it sounds stupid now when i am in a non broken state of mind. At the time though i was convinced that by removing the razor blade from a pink plastic lady shaver and swiping it across my wrists i would fix everything. The world would rejoice, people would skip to work and a weight would be lifted from the shoulders of the earth. Of course with such a flimsy weapon i was able to cut just deep enough to bleed profusely, be hide to hide and to scar. It also earned me a severe berating from my mum and a huge guilt trip.

The next time i hit rock bottom was when i was living with a friend on her couch. She brought home a man after a night on the town and my 20 year old self imploded for no particular reason. I ferreted through her flat until i found several stockpiles of her migraine medication. I was unsure at the time if it was lethal so i consumed as much as possible, around 50 in the end i think. I spent the night drifting in and out of consciousness and vomiting in the bathroom. The next day i was still alive and felt like shit. Two nights later i tried again to slit my wrists, i was pretty drunk so really have no idea what i used but it only achieved the same results as the first time.

I have hit a few bad patches since then, a lot of people call it "the black dog", "the deep hole" or their own version of it. I just call it being broken. I lost the person i thought of as my best friend because of being broken. I also found a lot of other people that i love deeply (in a purely non feely upy way) because they were broken too. One of them forced me to talk to her and then forced me to laugh, another employed the "i love you no matter what" and another one just kept ringing and texting until i answered. I love the three of you and i hope you know who you are.

So i spent some time researching on the interwebs the best way to off oneself. Purely for research i told myself, just out of morbid curiosity. I found a bunch of phone numbers for people "in crisis" and I have thought about calling these lines before and i when i think about why, i think, in some bizarre twisted way i was looking for permission. I know WTF right, like you are going to ring lifeline and like all "dude i want to die' and the person on the other end of the line is going to go "yup thats a great idea, may i suggest exposure" anyways i am far to paranoid for that.

This of course was all for research. I was most certainly having a broken week but just the crying for no particular reason and checking out suicide facts week, not a stabby, ingesty, dyie week. When i get this way i need to withdraw from the world, shut down, curl up and heal in my own broken little way. I cant be the person that bounces off the walls in excitement over your latest, job, promotion, baby, boyfriend, engagement. I cant be the person that listens to your problems and offers a solution or even just a shoulder. I cant think about anyone or anything other then breathing in and out and to stop-the-fuck-crying-already (seriously WTF tear ducts WTF) This is where i would totally use Crazy Glue if i had some and why, when i go to the States next year with three pretty awesome people i am going to buy a fuckload of it and only one of them will understand.

This week was a bit different though, i currently have Carpal Tunnel and being a government employee i had been issued with a few key people, rehab worker, case manger and a psychologist. A PSYCHOLOGIST, wtf, (insert agency) wtf? I talked to someone who i work with who just went through the same thing, she just got the case manager and the rehab worker. Great the department i work for are on to me.

As i said this week i was feeling damn broken and doing the "oh-my-god-i-dropped-a-pea-on-the-floor-and-need-to-cry- about-it" thing. So ten minutes before the meeting (with the nonessential PSY) a total crazy (in the stab-you-in-the face-tin-foil-hat-wearing crazy sort of way) woman freaks me out and makes me turn into a shaky emotional wreck. Awesome. So the meeting proceeded and i dont really acknowledge anyone there and my eyes leak anytime someone asks me a question or looks at me.  Of course my case manager is totally cute and the phsy and rehab person are of the good-looking suave type and im just frumpy, fat, blubbering me. I dont remember much of the meeting just the nodding and "looks-exchanging" of the other three. Today i got to work and i had an email from the cute case manager recommending i go to counseling. Awesome.

So now my rehab team thinks im crazy, my TL thinks im crazy and i yelled at my physiotherapist and then cried so im guessing she thinks im crazy too. This is why when im having a broken week i dont like to mingle with normal people.

Anyways im going to visit my favorite hooker discussing, best friend type person this weekend and am really looking forward to it. When i get back im going to attempt to convince the work type people im not insane and make them not give me the "understanding-sympathy-dont-upset-her" look anymore.I know i am broken, my friends know i am broken, these people - they dont need to know i am broken.

I also had a lovely message from someone ive chatted to a little in an indirect online manner. After thinking about it  I strongly suspect that everyone in the world is broken in some way shape or form. I think the reason we get broken is so that we know how to recognise when someone is and reach out a hand and maybe offer them some Crazy Glue.

So if anyone reads this if you need some Crazy Glue dont be afraid to ask and when someone offers you some dont be afraid to take it, if someone offers you Clag knock them the fuck out, they dont want to fix you, they just dont want to be the only one in the corner chewing on lumps of glue.

Edited - i have just read through this blog and wow i didn't expect it to get so deep, i just wanted to rationalise why i think Crazy Glue is awesome even though i have never used it. Also if its a year from now and customs people are reading this because they want to know why i have a fuckton of Crazy Glue in my bag "Hi" see im not a terrorist, just a little broken. Please have some complimentary Crazy Glue from my bag. Your Welcome customs people.

Why i will never be a messenger for god

I love my internet friends, they are a random group of people and if we all sat in a room i doubt anyone of us would approach another, give us access to the internet and we would have a blast. One of my friends in particular (and i say friend because we have met and hung out on several different occasions) i adore. Id go as far as to say she is my best friend, one of my best friends ... in the top ten at least.

She is a friend that just "gets" me, we can and do talk about everything.  Our most recent conversation started off being about her wanting to go the movies, it ended up involving beauty pageants, missing people and a debate about weather or not hookers drank milk. We plan on doing a lot of things together, currently we are internet dating (with men) ... (we hope) and if that falls through we plan on getting IVF choosing the same donor and giving birth to kids that would be related .... because its totally awesome.

Im been pretty sick lately and on a cocktail of medication so recently i reached out to her in my hour of need and it went something like this:

Me: Im dying
No response
Me: Im ddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggg.
No Response
Me: FINE ill just die alone then
Her:Sorry i was doing something (totally not allowed if you ask me)
Me: To late i am DEAD
Her: So whats hell like?
Her: Or did you make it into Heaven
Me: The devil has a restraining order so i couldn't go there, i certainly haven't been good enough to go to Heaven so im stuck in limbo
Her: Cool
Me: Actually the devil and god are arguing about who has to take me.
Her: Cool, could you ask them what i should do (about Internet Boyfriend (IF)
Me: God says you should dress up nicely go down to your local youth center and volunteer your time, make sure all the homeless are dead.
Me: Oh
Me:FFS
ME: Fed, make sure all the homeless people are fed.
Me: God says do not kill homeless people.
Her: (actually im a little hazy about what she said then but im pretty sure it was) Good to know
Me: The devil says get smashed and spew
Her:Ahuh
Me: Screw ... get drunk and screw
Her: (Nothing cause she was to busy making "the devil says get smashed and spew" her Facebook status)

Thats why i will never be gods messenger (no i dont condone the killing of the homeless on a first date) .... (thats a third date activity at least). (Please dont kill the homeless and try and sue me) and that's why im pretty sure she will be my best friend forever (not that she has a choice ... or even thinks about me that way). Also im very excited cause she is talking to her IB for the first time on Monday and i hope they fall in love and feed homeless people (im also a bit scared that she will because then who will talk about god, hookers, milk and transformers with me) and meanwhile i think my IB has dumped me.

The Trouble With Technology

So we, like many others in the world, have a giant t.v completed with Austar (pay t.v). Its great, i love it. I have a really short attention span so the fact that everything on Austar is a repeat of something i saw yesterday doesn't phase me. What does piss me off is that the plugs in the back are dodgy, every once in a while, seemingly on a whim, the sound turns off. Like just now i can hear a car in the driveway which means the pack of feral dogs that live here charge past the t.v cabinet and the sound shuts off. Awesome.

Now i have three options 1) i can sit here and listen to myself type (or worse, listen to myself think)  2) i can attempt to get the sound working again or the third and more unpopular option 3) i can fix the sound manually. Now to fix the sound is a relatively simple task, all one needs to do is to get up and cross the lounge room to the cabinet, stick ones hand behind the cable box and push the plugs around until they make contact again.

Now here is where the trouble comes in, technology has convinced me that i should not have to get up from my chair EVER. Thats why we have remote controls HELLO so we can control this sort of thing from a remote location, or at the very least, from the old blue recliner chair.

In order to not have to get my considerable derriere (this is probably why its considerable) i have a variety of things i will try before i make the inevitable trip over to the cabinet. I figure since the pack of feral dogs (henceforth referred to as POFD) can gambol past and switch the sound off, the reverse should also be applicable. So i scramble around (still in my chair) looking for something that will attract the dogs attention and peg it in the general direction of the cabinet.

This general plays out as follows, the POFD that consist of three German Shorthaired Pointer's (one of which is slightly mentally unstable), one Jack Russell Terrier and one Geriatric Beagle, will go pounding over to the t.v to retrieve (or at least have a really good look at) the object i have thrown. As the first three approach the sounds suddenly increases, the first three will investigate the object and even if they are not interested one will grab it to prevent the others from obtaining the "treasure", then they will rush off as the geriatric beagle approaches and the JRT runs around extolling the virtues of (well im not really sure what he extolls the virtues of but he does it A LOT). The pair will mill around where the object was and the Geriatric Beagle will look at me with that hang dog look only hounds can give, fart and wonder off in search of a bin to raid. The fart will generally extinguish the sound again.

Another method i like to employ is to throw non dog enticing items at the t.v cabinet, the sound returns on impact and then disappears again as the item hits the ground.  Then the POFD come charging with the opinion that THEY will be the the judge of weather or not it was a dog enticing object that i have thrown. The above scenario then plays out.

At this point i generally start randomly swearing at the t.v, now i dont why, when its actually the fault of the dodgy plugs in the cable receiver thingamajig, i guess as its the larger target and i assume it has broad shoulders (and im talking metaphorical shoulders here).  Occasionally the sound will recommence in conjunction with one particular swear word prompting a "thank fuck for that" which of course then eliminates the sound. This in turn prompts a string of swear words that would make a shearer blush and of course, does not solve the issue but only serves to make me sound like i have turrets syndrome and leaves me no closer to having sound again.

It is at this point that i realize that i have exhausted all my options, the dogs have all the objects that were close at hand in the backyard and i've actually wasted much more time and effort then if i had of employed option three in the first place. So i get up and cross the lounge room and wiggle those damn dodgy plugs, the sound recommences and i sit back down only to realize that the program i wanted to watch is over, i reach for the remote control and discover that its one of the objects i threw at the cabinet and the POFD are now romping round the backyard with it.

I scream FUCK .... and the sound on the t.v turns off.