Archive for September, 2009

Feelings and or swans ruin everything

September 29, 2009 5 comments


Is it wrong that I guess a shelf-life on friends’ marriages? 

I keep it to myself, of course…

Categories: Personal

Let’s hope it doesn’t rain

September 22, 2009 3 comments

Asthmatics and allergy sufferers should stay indoors, low pressure system, government conspiracy, delayed flights, Oompa Loompas, bloodnuts, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Armageddon, blah blah blah… 

Sydney’s dust storm has everyone freaking out.  Having grown up near the bush, it’s not the first time I’ve seen a blood red sky so I’m far less plussed about it, but I did bring my camera out for when I walked The Kid to school at 8:30am because it was the first time she’d seen anything like it.  Due to a weird wake-up at 4am which had me sleeping in until 7am, I missed the super-redness everyone has Facebooked about, but this is as it was when we left our unit:


Old mate Elliot took this photo from his place in Bondi at 6am this morning:


Here’s two from old mate Nic on the Harbour Bridge on her way to work:



I’d be so pissed if I were this dude:


All the cars parked outside are covered in red dust, and people are walking around hunched underneath umbrellas, even though it’s not raining.  Birds are silent, and all the bugs and spiders are staying put.  At this very moment, there is a couple having an argument near a window in one of the units next door about how the dust might kill them. 

Nothing is making sense and it is fantastic. 

I can’t wait to get into work today… all the hypochondriacs will be running in with SARS masks on, the chronic and terminal patients will clog the phone lines, and the Autistic children will be running around like ferals on crack.  Thank goodness I’m going to be holed up in a back office doing medico-legal, or else I may just lose my shit.

Unfortunately, I’m still looking for this bird:


I’ll give you everything I have if she comes to pick me up from work tonight.


Update:  LOL.  Thanks to mUmbrella.


Categories: Uncategorized

World’s Longest Handshake

September 21, 2009 Leave a comment

Check out old mate Lindsay, who is currently attempting to break the record for the World’s Longest Handshake

(Click the link for live video streaming and Lindsay’s site.)

Categories: Fun

Why are you tired?

September 20, 2009 10 comments

You should tell them why.

I did.  

Then, you should tell me here why you’re tired.  I’m just curious.

Lifted from The Mojowire, with thanks.

Categories: Fun

Better Late

September 20, 2009 Leave a comment

The Cub and I are now the proud parents of a PS3.  It’s so beautiful, I could cry.

This would be a bigger get for us if the Australian Classifications Board weren’t such fundamentalist artards, but what do you do.

Categories: Fun

0 Hai! Whatup, Dad!

September 20, 2009 8 comments

According to the family I grew up with, my biological father was a junkie and a gambler and my biological mother was a harlot who was married to somebody else and already had children with her husband.  They couldn’t look after me, so, I ended up being adopted by his sister.  

I’ve gone through the in-between on the old BourbonBird blog, but home stopped being home when I accidentally found out at 12 years old that I was adopted.  My mother (adoptive) freaked out and became an extreme racist and control-freak, banning me from doing anything that normal children would do, even banning me from seeing my blood cousins who lived literally around the corner from me because they were half-white and, according to her, were bastard children from a Mail Order sham marriage.  Until I ran away from home at 16 years old, she would yell at me for a short period of time and then spend the rest of her time beating me, almost daily.  During this time, I ticked all the boxes of seeking-out behaviour, truancy, anger outbursts and violent behaviour towards schoolmates, drug use, promiscuity, self-harm and, to a LOLsome degree, writing emo poetry. 

It’s taken years of therapy to realise that I not only hate my mother, but I would’ve flat out murderised her face off if I had to endure her through my young adult years.  I would’ve been the female version of Sef Gonzales and I’m pretty sure I would’ve been relatively remorseless about it. 

When I left home, the first year was rough.  I was a victim of rape and went through the court process mildly successfully (1 count of rape whiddled down from an original 13 counts including Depravation Of Liberty, Stalking, and 3 counts of rape and all he got was a 15 month jail sentence with 4 years suspended) without my family knowing.  Before this, I begged for help and scraped whatever charity I could, but even then, I still spent a few nights homeless.  I engaged in trade-offs that my soul will scream for long after I’m gone.  I try to live without regret today but I have a post-it in my head to thank the people who helped me out and to apologise to the people I used to keep my head above water in this first year.  It’s often hard to be philosophical about things, but I found my now ex-husband-but-still-best-friend through it and I wouldn’t have my rad mates, my amazing partner and my awesome daughter today.  I wouldn’t have the love and support I do now and I know I wouldn’t be half as strong if life didn’t happen the way it did for me.  I still don’t believe it most of the time, but I’ve earned this happiness.  I earn the good and the bad in my life today, and I need to deal with it.  I know now that I can’t control my past and it totally sucked but whatever, my focus is to keep going forward with as little collateral damage and as much learning as possible. 

So you’ll understand my complete and utter shock when my biological father messages me through my cousin’s Facebook via Wall Post to say he’s in the country until the end of November and that he’ll be in my city for just over a week in… two weeks’ time. 

For a weird compromise in my upbringing, I was always pushed off to spend time with him whenever we visited the Philippines, and I grew up believing that he was my favourite uncle.  And he really was.  He introduced me to rock music through a tape of The Eagles and Queen.  He pumped me full of GI Joe Bubblegum and MSG-laden Filipino food.  We sat together laughing while we set off fireworks in the front yard, without a care of where the fireworks would fly.  He was fucking awesome as my uncle.

Of course, my natural reaction was to freak out.  The main emotion was anger.  Anger that he has not made any effort that I know of to contact me in the time before I left home.  Anger that he could just casually message me like I’m supposed to come running to him.  Anger that he bailed on me.  Anger that I have justified his absence when I, through practice, could never bring myself to do the same.  Anger that I grew to hate my mother and gave no thought to how I felt about him because he was virtually non-existent in my life.  So what did I do first?  I went to my therapist.

It was comical, actually, since I haven’t seen her in over a year because the last consult was painful and emotional and I cried like a bitch and said aloud for the first time that I hated my mother.  We had to go through that again and, this time, we had to draw a family tree.  Even I was confused with all the circles and squares and the lines surrounding me on her green consult pad, but we got there.  We talked.  And talked.  And talked some more.  And I walked out of her room feeling far angrier than when I walked in. 

I’ve since had time to think about it and I think she’s right.  Of course she’s right… for $350 per hour, you’d bloody well hope she’s right. 

There were other emotions, too, but none that really stuck.  My head felt like exploding with the avalanche of questions I wanted to ask, and the more pressing ones I wanted to know weren’t really that important at all… like… why did he sell my monkey for gambling money when he was clearly not a betting man?  Who named me?  Why did he have a mounted badminton racquet and shuttlecock mounted on his wall when I visited at 6 years old when he never played?  Does he play any musical instruments?  What’s his favourite colour? 

I will meet my biological father, and I will hear him out.  I will not expect anything, because I will only be disappointed.  I will be okay if he turns out to be an absolute jerkoff, and I will be okay if he turns out to be okay.  I will tell him how I feel, even though he won’t want to hear it, and I will do all of this so I can walk away from it and get on with my life feeling a little less lost.

Categories: Personal


September 19, 2009 Leave a comment

Bearded Man:  I finally got one!

Bearded Doctor Lady:  What did you get?

Bearded Man:  A Bible!

Bearded Doctor Lady:  Oh, it’s a good one.   It’s got some really great stories in it!

Categories: Work