Sunday, March 16, 2008


Lately whenever I have put my hand to my chest I have felt the fast, heavy beat of my heart beneath. When I am able to muffle the angry voices in my head for long enough I can hear the raspy quickened pace of my breath that will only slow when I consciously make the effort to pace my breathing.

It's not until I go to bed at night time and try to sleep while hearing my housemates walk past my room and their loud voices in the early morning and I wrap my bed clothes tighter around my shaking body do I realise just how incredibly anxious I have become.

Paranoid too; often while lying in bed I'll strain my ears to hear their voices on the other side of the wall, loud as they are the words themselves inaudible. Then whenever their voices happen to lower I sit up with the blood thudding in my ears and my eyes staring at the vacant wall of my bedroom to desperately make out if they are referring to me.

If really stressed, I'll pad my way from my bedroom where only my computer sits for company to the backdoor where my dog sits upon the verandah patiently waiting for a walk, giving the housemates dirty looks if they have stopped dead in their conversation, on what seems like on my account.

I say nothing to them as I speak softly to my dog while stroking her velvety ears as her eyes swimming with betrayal gaze up at me. "I'm sorry" I say, every time. Before guilt consumes me again and I pad back over the chipper board to my room to close the door and try to seal in some sort of privacy, some sort of sanctuary for my soul and mind while I gaze at the photos and post cards that remind me of home and the people and things I love plastered upon my wall as the nostalgia sets it again.

This feels like deja-vu ....again.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Fury in a D Cup & on Stilettos

Warning- The following entry contains little creativeness or imagination, I'm just really pissed off. Shame, shame, shame.

....Well, I've been here nearly a month and have been so well behaved it's fucking ridiculous. I had some trouble with this complete fucking psycho that I was working in the shearing shed with for over two weeks (we finished up last Tuesday). And it was made worse by him actually being a 'friend' (a stretched term for 'associate') of the lady I live with and he lived near here so we ute-pulled (My ute is called 'The Uterus'- so, haha Uterus-pulled) together every morning.
And everyday in the shed when everyone else would be running their guts out working he'd just be going at a snail's pace (I had this joke that I reckoned the only time he was fast was in the bedroom) and using all his time and energy to snarl nasty things about me just to impress this other redneck-low-life mate of his.

The sheep also had lice and when that happens the wool goes yellow and stained so one day when I really let the bastards get to me I went up to each shearer individually with the yellow wool from a sheep's belly in my hand and said, "Hey, what do those two Rat-Features have in common with these sheep? Beside from the fact that they are all sheep?".
Every time the shearer would glance up letting a wicked grin begin to engulf their face, 'What?'
I'd lean in closer, "They all have yellow bellies".
Well that made me feel better for a while.

Than one day Rat-Features stopped being so subtle and found some courage to scream 'Your a fucking ignorant thing' at me. Which made the entire shed go dead silent and I was so furious I was shaking and with enormous strength I actually managed to not kick his nuts back to the last century.
Despite alot of the blokes egging me on later to do just that on the cut-out day. But, anyway, I find out (after ute-pulling with him for 2 weeks) that he is a bad bastard that can't get any work in the district cos he's just a psycho.
Haha.....I couldn't believe my luck. But anyway, on the day before cut -out he called me 'Fucking useless bitch' (once again completely unprovoked- like i said he was a psycho), so furious, I yelled back (in front of the bosses and everyone- good one dickhead) that he could just fuck off because he quite clearly wasn't there to work. Than, still shaking with anger I bent down to pick up a fleece and said to anyone in the vicinity that, "I would punch him in the nuts, but he doesn't have any'.

Than we didn't hear another word from the gutless bastard from then till cut-out.

SO yeah...what a great start to my fabulous new life here in the sunshine state.

Next Friday night I'm going to a formal ball that's part of the annual Harvest ball in town.
We're talking freakin' high heels, fancy gowns, the whole kit and caboodle. I'm wearing my 'Scrubber' dress (that my wacko Kiwi house-mate called 'too revealing', but I don't think he's ever actually seen a chick in a dress before so what would he know) and showing these damn Queenies how Victorians do it. Which shouldn't be hard, Queenies don't have a clue, all they do is drink XXXX (weak as cat-piss) and pick apples all day- which explains why having a conversation with them is like trying to converse with a broken record, they don't seem to have any comprehension for what a timeline is.

The buggers won't know what hit em. But, yeh like I said I've been well behaved for farr farr farrr too long and have the feeling that the shit could really hit the ceiling, resulting in my banishment from the district. Which I wouldn't consider the worst thing at this stage.

But if I run into that gutless Rat-Features I'm gonna stiletto his redneck arse.

And just between you and me dear blog, the other day I applied for a 4 week job mustering cattle on horseback in Central Queensland. And if i get it, I'm gooorrrrrnnnnnneeeee!!!!!!

Fuck, sorry this has been so long. And sorry about the fucking swearing :D