I am all weepy and sooky girly today.

No reason.

Just wanna cry.

Got to work this morning and S asked me what I have done with my hair today. It looks different, says he.

I take that as: ‘What the fuck is going on with that rats nest on your head woman! You are in some dire need of some hair dye/a hairbrush/a total head transplant!’

Diesel lets me know that my Humur Blogs application was rejected because I didn’t follow the procedures and put the button on my blog. With profuse apologies.

I take that as: ‘Excuse me? You think you are funny? Here is the link for the dictionary definition of funny, best you read that. And while you are at it I am entering you in the Darwin Awards…..’

I casually mention that I am in a bad mood and ‘steer clear or this biatch is gunna blow’ to my friends, family and workmates. They all ask me if I have my period. Well yes. Yes I do. SO WHAT!!?!?!?!

I take that as: ‘You psycho chick. Looks like you are going through Menopause real early. Nice knowing you, we are all going on extended vacation. And if you call and it sounds like we pick up, that is just the housesitter…..’

A couple of people suggest watching a sad movie when I admit that I just feel like crying. I feel sad. With. No. Reason.

I take that as: ‘ Put a movie on loud. That way the neighbours won’t hear your screams when you start stabbing yourself in the temple with an icepick to dull the pain. And hopefully induce some tears.’

MPS comes home takes one look at me and suggests he pick up takeaway for dinner.

I take that as: ‘You useless fat cow. Sitting there on your fat arse. Lets fatten you up and see if those udders can produce milk.’

Boo plays this:

Or click here.

Over and over and over. He has played it so much that my foot is tapping even when he pauses it for a minute and I know all the words off by heart. He has taken to placing his laptop right near my head.

I take that as: ‘I will play this over and over until Mummy loses her mind and starts to cry.’

Yeah. That’ll do it.

Feel better now.

Now where is the fucking chocolate.

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Half the cubby is here.

The other half is sitting in a loading bay somewhere in Melbourne.

The fucking courier didn’t pick it up. Thursday. They were supposed to pick it up on Thursday.

Delivery yesterday.

They are not answering their phones.

Now we won’t get it till after the New Year.

So who is going to explain to a nine year old with Autism, who has only just starting understanding the whole fucking Santa thing, WHY he is not getting a Christmas present.

I can’t stop crying.

It’s not fair.

Fuck you suck Murphy.