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slumber party ~ britney spears

Slumber Party ~ Britney Spears, 2016

fuck the water blaster

Renovation twat is at it again. Arggh. This time he’s waster blasting …

  • just so you know
  • its the noise
  • the constant noise that doesn’t fucken let up
  • it’s loud
  • it’s uncomfortable
  • why?
  • because it grates my nerves
  • because i can’t hear whats happening
  • for those with ‘spacial’, peripheral and hardwired reactory issues
  • like pts(d)
  • hearing is everything
  • and when you can’t hear shit over a fucken water blaster
  • it messes with the feng shui
  • thinking about cutting his power outlet
  • or maybe a slug gun pellet to the water blaster itself
  • unfortunately, he’d still come back … tomorrow
  • so
  • instead
  • head phones and music that’ll stifle that noise out
  • lock my doors
  • cleaning?
  • nah, bit of extra blogging i feel

Fuck water blasters and water blasting cunts …

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366 reasons to smile ~ +144.

+144. I was browsing through the word press stats thingy – which I don’t really do enough – and discovered this little beauty.

Turns out when I yell at the spell check for re-spelling my expletives and native languages (both cultural and natural language), it’s taken note, and has put them down as ‘Phrases to Ignore’ LOL! I have quite a few!

not twittering twitter

I’m thinking I may finish up my twittering … it’s not really my jam. I remember Johanna saying she couldn’t do twitter, mainly because she didn’t like being confined to 140 characters. And I think I’m beginning to agree with her!

I’m a bit of a long talker / explainer, when I get going … and I like the freedom to express myself in a variety of expletives, if necessary.

But when the little twitter troll pops up after I hit ‘tweet’, and it tells Me I need to be more clever-er with my words so I can fit what I’m saying into the provided, 140 … I get pissed!!

I’m not good with being told what I can and can’t do lol.

And what I have discovered, is peeps tend to be quite nasty – not all of them of course – but I think some may have misled themselves into believing that ‘nasty’ and clipped, is the same as clever and ‘direct’.

It’s not.

But all this got Me thinking about reducing my social media thing-a-me-whats-its. I like Instagram and it’s awesome for my art. I love Blogging … I get to be as short or lengthy as I like. And Facebook … well, its Facebook. No explanation needed really … It’s not great … It’s not Bad.

Kinda like my hairdo at the moment.

I’ve been toying with the idea of combining both my blogs. I separated them to begin with because I couldn’t juggle the 2 threads of art / photography with being pts(d) ridden. What I’ve come to realise, is that they are one in the same thing.

They’re both Me, and I need them both. Thats what reconciliation is about 😉

So, there may be a few changes round here over the next few months … don’t worry though … I’ll still be gangstah 😉

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riddle Me this:

Q. When is a fitted sheet not a fitted sheet?

A. When it doesn’t fucken fit!

‘Me’

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366 reasons to smile ~ +143.

+143. Yup 🙂

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flava in ya ear ~ craig mack

Flava In Ya Ear ~ Craig Mack, 1994

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don’t tell me ~ concord dawn ft tiki tane

NZ D&B at its best …

Don’t Tell Me! ~ Concord Dawn ft Tiki Tane, 2004

the elusive cup of coffee

Every morning I do the same routine.

Get up …

put the coffee on …

take a dump (twitter it at the same time 😉 ) …

put the washing in …

pour the coffee …

Blog and update my social media who-hah.

And every single morning … I lose my coffee cup. How? How is that possible?

When I find it, it’s cold, but I drink it anyway cos theres no way I’m wasting that elixir of life … I pour another one … and promptly lose that one too.

Same routine.

I’ve tried travel mugs, smaller cups, brightly coloured cups (easily spotted was the hope) … and I still lose them. And when I say lose; technically they’re not lost, because they are still within my vicinity … but I’ll spend at least 5-7 minutes walking around the house looking for that cup every time I ‘lose’ it.

It’s never in the same place, which is also annoying. I put keys in the same place … so I can go back to them when I need them … I put my hair brush in the same place … my tweezers … nail clippers etc etc … all those little things that seem to get misplaced easily.

But A Cup?

What gives?

As far as 1st world problems go, this is up there … but I thought I’d just throw it out there … yah never know, the coffee cup gods may smile upon Me and help Me find my elusive cup more easily tomorrow morning 🙂

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mauri of me #20 ~ dance

I have never been a lover of exercise. And before all the exercise dieting buffs give Me a lecture on the benefits of those 2 things, let Me tell yah why I don’t like them … as only I can 😉

a. I have a theory that both of these things, exercise and dieting, are a ploy to make money. Back in the day, my ancestors hunted, gathered, chopped down trees, gardened etc. They didn’t have time for Pilates or Jogging. This tells Me:

  • We now do less ‘activity’.
  • Our version of ‘productive’ has changed.

Dieting was also non-existent. We ate what we had; what we had worked hard to grow and hunt. And our rates of heart disease and diabetes were … Nil.

Now We expend our energies on making money to go to the shop to buy crap food to kill whilst cooking, thus depleting its nutritional value, so we can fill up and sit on our asses until Pilates class.

These 2 things put profits into someone elses pocket and benefit Me, How?

b. I don’t run (aka exercise). I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like it. It doesn’t make sense to me. I run to, or from something. Like, to – the toilet. And, from – the police. Thats it.

c. I don’t diet (aka reduce carbs etc). I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like it. Why take away good food (whole foods, organics) and replace them with shit food? I don’t do nuts and legumes. I do do whole milk, fresh coffee beans, greens from my garden, organic meat, fresh fruit. Oh, and M&Ms 😉

d. Over exertion speeds up my heart rate which feels just like a good old panic attack. Why do that?

However …

I have always been a lover of dance.

Some would say thats exercise … and sure, you can categorise it as such. But its also a thing of joy and beauty.

My Nan was a dancer. I’m pretty sure I’ve written a post about her love for dance before, but I’m to lazy to find it at the moment 😉 She saw the love for dance and music in Me, when I was little. When I was about 6 or 7, she paid for Ballet lessons for Me; right up until I was 14 or 15 I think, when I got pregnant with my first child.

The thing with dance … as most cultures will attest too … there is something extremely liberating and cathartic and freeing and expression-ful (pretty sure thats not a word, but oh well lol), about it.

After I got pregnant, my dancing stopped. I went back to it in my 20s and then found I was pregnant with my second girl and was possibly going to miscarry … so the dancing stopped again.

When I left my husband, I wanted to go back to classes and eventually either apply to the Ballet School or teach. Instead, after quite a few ‘hiccups’, I had a nervous breakdown instead ;).

So instead of dance school, I got drunk and danced my ass off every night, 7 nights a week. I didn’t realise it then, but I needed to dance. And it was probably my saviour.

When I sobered up and turned into an anxiety ridden pts(d) freak, my dancing stopped, again.

That was just over 10 years ago.

I’ve been missing it for about the last 3 years, but haven’t had the energy, physically, but mainly, mentally, to go back to it.

So, it occurs to Me the other day, that the urge I have for it is returning … hard. And instead of reasoning out the hows and whys and why can’ts and so forths … I took a leaf from the melenials hand book (because they can do anything, cos no-one has told them they can’t!) … and googled it and then YouTubed it.

I typed in what I liked in the way of dance … what I wanted etc. And I came up with ‘Drag Queens Burlesque’. LOL. Now I’m not anti that At All … but is that available here in hicksville? Nope.

But it got Me thinking.

I love what Drag Queens do. I love their exuberance; their passion; the joy they seem to exude and ooze. I guess I could start my own Drag Queen thing, but as a straight brown girl just trying to find a niche? 😉

Ok, so back to the googling.

And then I struck upon Yanis Marshall.

Now I’m a little late to that party … obviously.

But Oh My Fuck … This filled Me with so much happiness and excitement; and I found my desire to dance again. Not just a whimsical wanting … but a definite … Must Do.

I’ve posted this dude before, but heres another sample:

His links are on his videos, so check them out if you’re interested.

But any who … As I was watching … I realised … I have this training … and I have this ability … and I have the passion for dance …

I am slightly unfit … Ok, really unfit lol … which took Me back to the ‘exercise’ question/theory. Would I exercise to get fit enough to be able to do this?

Nope.

Then I watched this:

And I remembered just how hard it is to be a dancer … but how beautiful it is … and that when you love something that much … its not hard, its not ‘exercise’, its not work … but its all of those things … its Dance 🙂

So, this is Me 🙂

I’m taking on the Dance part of Me again.

And guess what … strangely enough … I am super fucking excited 😉

Yes, I may break a few things … and yes, I probably will have more than a few panic attacks as I figure out whats over exertion and whats pts fucking d; and Yes, I will be sore as fuck, for a very long while …

But I don’t give a fuck.

I love dance … and I’m tired of waiting to ‘be alright’.

I remember my Nan saying she missed dancing … and even when she was in her 80s she would still waltz around the lounge room when she was ‘in the mood’. I wanna do that … but in heels lol … No seriously … I want to still be dancing right up until I croak … I’ve taken a long enough break I think 😉