things that irriate me

So after school today Boo and I went to a discount store.  We go ‘somewhere’ after school everyday and Wednesday is usually the corner shop for a lemonade but today we mixed it up and went to the discount store.  Karma?  Fate?  Just bad freakin’ luck?

So I hobbled around looking for Boo, cause of course he decided today was the day to finally get some independence and go looking around on his own.  Three times.  So we were there longer than usual.

Get to the checkout and the chick is having a deep conversation with her friend and ignoring us.  Boo is getting titchy, so I let him have an icypole from the oh-so-freaking-convenient freezer in the checkout line.  He is starting to cover his ears and squeal from the horrible off key CHRISTMAS musak and all of us in the line are getting a little peeved.

She turns to me.  ‘Hi!  How are you!?’ like nothing happened.

‘Yeah, fine’ I replied, when what I wanted to do was slam her over the head with the phone.  In hindsight I probably should have, cause it would have bought me a minute or two.

Grab my purchases and Boo’s hand and limp, painfully, outside.  I was soooo lucky to get the park right out front. As I get to the car my phone rings.  I put my bag on the bonnet and standing at the drivers door answer it.

It was my Mum. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at the warehouse.  Boo ran away from me….’


A humungous 4 wheel drive comes careening into the park next to me and slams into my hip, flinging me into the drivers side door.

Does he stop?


He keeps going and slams the passenger side mirror into my back and leaves me inches between my car and his.

‘He fucking HIT ME!  A car just drove into me and FUCKING HIT ME!’ I scream in disbelief into the phone.

‘Yeah, OK, calm down.  When will you be home?  I am at your house waiting you know’ comes the response from Mother of the Year.

‘Mum.  I just got hit by a car!’

Then the guy in the car and his stupid woman stare at me and he yells ‘You stupid fucking bitch!’

‘What!!!  You hit me you idiot!’

He and his chick hide in their car.

‘Kelley???  Kelley???? Are you coming or not’ my mother asks me.


‘Yeah.  I will be there in a minute.’

So I yell some obscenities at the dickhead, Boo is in the car and is absorbed in singing to his reflection in the passenger side window so didn’t hear, and drive home.

Get in the driveway and Mum and Dad are waiting.  I am still seething.

‘What’s your problem?’ my oh-so-caring Mother asks

‘I just got hit by a fucking CAR!’

‘No need to use that tone and language with me!’

I unlock the front door.

Mother of the Year smiles at me.

‘My new kitchen comes tomorrow! Isn’t it exciting?!’

‘Yeah, great.’ I mumble rubbing my hip and wondering if it is bruised and thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t turned sideways or the fucker would have run over my fractured toe.

‘Well you could show a little enthusiasm Kelley.  After all this IS a big deal for me………’ and she went on blabbering, but I tuned out cause…….

I GOT HIT BY A CAR and her new kitchen is more important…….

And people wonder why I am so freakin’ unbalanced……

Was having a productive day.

Had a plan.

Had a million things to do and the energy and motivation to just do it……

Notice the past tense?

I was replying to an email when my Spidey senses perked up.  Boo is up to no good.   I look over my shoulder and see the pantry door covered in texta.

He had turned my pantry into a digital clock.  Quite creative really, but that is beside the point.

I had Too’s friend standing over me, muttering something, but I was ignoring him cause I am cranky at him for 1. calling here reverse charges from a freaking mobile phone, from ANOTHER STATE three times last week, and 2. inviting Too to the movies and then ringing me last night to tell me that I have to take them and pick them up!

Anyway.  I dodged around him, determined to catch Boo in the act so I can scold him.  As I went tearing around the corner I got my toe caught up in my yoga pants…..


for those that don’t know what they are…. mine are exactly the same.  See the way they flare out at the bottom? Stupid freakin’ things.  I’m gunna sue!!!

And now my big toe is blown up like that bloated feral biatches face from the other day, purple and sorta bent to one side….

AND it is the toe I broke during the take-the-bed-apart-with-a-hammer-in-bare-feet fiasco back in ’98.  The same day my washing machine broke down and every door handle in the piece of shit Ford snapped off while heavily pregnant with Boo so I couldn’t have any drrruuuuggggssss!!!!

So here I am, whacked out on anti inflammataries – paracetamol makes me need a nanna nap – on the lounge with a ice-stick thingy that in my giggly semi conscious state looks surprisingly like a dildo, slamming down coffee and lamenting everything I was going to do today is lost.

But the worst thing of all.  The one thing that would send me crying in the corner? The fact that I can’t drive our manual car? That the laundry is full of the kids school uniforms that need to be washed, hung out on the line etc etc? That I was going to make my super special spaghetti sauce that takes hours to make?  No…..
My toe is so fucking bent and bloated there is not ONE pair of shoes that I can wear.  I will have to go barefoot or wear slippers or something…..

Now that is just truly tragic.

On Wednesday Girl was talking about the biatches in the schoolyard (and they are biatches babe, I agree with Buns, you little hottie, you) and I felt for her.

I hate being snubbed. I want everyone to like me. And if you don’t, I will fret about it. The vestiges of being a painfully shy child. Autism beat that out of me. The daily fighting with everyone to get what Boo was due has made me stronger.

But there are some women in the schoolyard that snub me. They are not the Muffia, they, believe it or not, actually like me. I guess I am their little charity case. Talk to the Mum with the kid with the disability…. yeah whatever.

The particular mothers I am talking about are what we affectionately refer to as ferals. The rough, wharfy voiced too-tight-tracksuit-wearing, um, trailer trash???? You know the ones, their kids are called Shakira and Shapelle and sporting a three day old snail trail of snot across their faces? And they all have that laugh, the one that makes you whip ’round and say ‘What the freaking hell is that?’

And no-one owns shoes.

Yeah, those ones.

I have tried to chat with them. When they are alone, they are fine. All chatty and ‘hows it goin’. But get two or more of ’em together….. well I am not longer worth talking to.

Ferals are snubbing me.

I actually talked to P (Boo’s teacher) about it. Oh, how he laughed. Asshat. Then asked me why I cared.

I don’t know.

I am not interested in talking about what they talk about, I don’t want their dirty kids crawling all over me and I wouldn’t invite them over for coffee…

So why do I care?

Cause they are judging me. Because I don’t come to school barefoot, I wear fabulous shoes. Because I don’t smell like eu de BO, but perfume. Because I don’t scream across the school yard ‘Get back here you bastard or I will thump ya’ ( although sometimes I want to). Because I brush my freaking HAIR…

hmmmm, who is judging who? But I try and talk to them. They sneer at me. I walk to the classroom and pass them sitting on the steps and they go quiet and stare.
The other day I was standing in the hall waiting for Boo to come out of class. One of the ferals walked in, alone. I said hi, she said hi. We did the small talk thing. She asked me if I thought it was going to rain on the weekend.

Then one of her mates lumbered in. She turned her bra-strap-disappearing-into-her-fat back on me!

‘So ya recon it’s gunna rain on Sat-di’ she yelled to her mate. 2 feet away from her.

Isn’t that what she just asked me?

‘Dunno. Betta put up the tent just in case tho. Gunna be a freakin’ awesome party. Kids are pumped. Everyone comin’?’

‘Yeh. Most’a da kids in da class’

Huh? ‘most’a da kids in da class’? Boo didn’t get an invite. Boo plays with the less feral of the two’s daughter. The one holding the party.

Boo has her on the top of the list of invites to his party.

Boo is not invited and the fucking feral broadcast it in front of me!

The lumbering mate announces ‘I gotta pee’ and shuffles off.

Feral no 1 turns to me. Smiles.

‘you know’ I smile sweetly at her ‘I heard that it is going to be lovely weather on the weekend. I don’t think you will need a tent. The kids will probably knock it down anyway’ saccharine smile again.

Apparently it is supposed to rain. Apparently there are strong wind warnings and the chance of hail.

Apparently some woman in fabulous shoes will be doing rain dances……


Well, she started it!

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