* The D�lander in whose comments I left a note about BF. I�d linked to her via a buddy of a buddy of a buddy and found she�d been teaching a class(I think) containing a "BF" who was giving her abuse. It wasn�t my BF but I left a goofy note anyway � the balance of my mind was disturbed and I thought I was being amusing. Anyway I instantly forgot who she was but I�d like to go back and read some more of her stuff. Any ideas?
* Moviegrrl � late of this parish and now gone over to the Dark Side. As far as I can work out she has no phone and no web access at the mo but I know she wants me to post on her behalf � this I will happily do if anyone knows of any other line of communication I can use.
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So, down to the week�s business. In general terms Ive just been too totally fucked off to write anything much this week. Ive been reading all your posts and if Ive left you any comments or notes which have caused you to go "Wha�!?!" then I apologise unreservedly.
Last time I spoke of the impending management meeting. It came. It went. I ended up feeling even more marginalised than usual, especially when it was announced that our "across the board" pay review for this year was to be 2%. Yup. Two Fucking Per Fuckin Cent. Heads were shaken and tut tut noises were made, but as I pointed out to Army Boy during a conspiratorial cigarette later in the day "2% of your salary�s a fuck sight more than 2% of mine, buddy boy". The GM advised that I should go and speak to BBBM but I am still so upset and furious about it � even a week later - that I don�t trust myself to not burst into tears or punch him full in the face. Either option couldn�t really be considered a good career move.
Slave gets her "performance related review" which I promised her when I took her on. At this rate she will be earning more than me before the year is out if Im not careful.
I get the same pay rise as Capt Skiver and The Incredible Sulk, despite the differences in our output and loyalty to the company.
When I got home there was a letter waiting for me from the hospital. My long-dreaded colonoscopy appointment came through. Ive had one of these things before when I was really sick and, if you�ve never had one, they�re fucking HORRIBLE. Yes, OK they sedate you for the duration but the stuff before an after is just as vile. The day before you cant eat anything, just drink vile medicine three times a day which makes you shit through the eye of a needle and feel like you�ve been eviscerated. Next day they do �the horrid thing� with the camera and the sedative and the general undignified �at their mercy� patient type thing. Then they let you go home. You feel like death but you still cant eat anything. Next day you cant drive or do anything much except stay in bed and be looked after and fart. And fart you do. Big time. The first bit of a colonoscopy is where they fill you up with air with a kind of bicycle pump so they can see what they�re doing. Of course, all that air has to get out somehow. Now, if I were a general sort of gal, this wouldn�t concern me too much, but I am Stepfordtart ferchristsake. Sure I fart, but not in front of people. Its just WRONG. BF has only ever heard the teensiest weensiest little accidental toots. He�s certainly never been a party to the kind of toe-curlingly embarrassing trumpet voluntaries that a girl can dish out when pumped full of NHS air. GM has told me to take the rest of the week off � I assume this is out of concern for my welfare and not because he cant bear the thought of one of the Senior Management Team behaving like she�s re-enacting scenes from Blazing Saddles.
BF is worried sick that Im going to die, or that I have cancer, or that they�re going to find something really horrid, to the extent that he has been treating me like Im made of Dresden China all week. He means well but, despite my lengthy explanations, he is largely ignorant of my condition and listens to far too many inaccurate anecdotes from people who should know better. My favourites include: (from his Chum) "Yeh, well, that�s cancer, its just got a different name" and (from Flaming June) "Your auntie had that (yeh, like 50 years ago) and SHE DIIIIIED".
I have been tearful and snappy all week.
Treacle�s school was shut on Thursday because the heating had packed up, so I had to "work from home". GM was very good about it but Slave phoned in the afternoon to say Capt Skiver and The Incredible Sulk had been bitching about me all day, saying what a crap manager I am and how Im patronising and dictatorial and how much better it was before I got ideas above my station (ie before they actually had to get some work done most days)
On Friday we had to go to Jezebel�s Party. Jezebel is BFs promoter for the Big Gig and I wrote about her a few entries back. I could try to link to the page but I really really cant be arsed. Apologies.
Anyway, Jezebel turned 40 (I would�ve put her at 45 at least, but there you go) and BF, Jooj, Treacle and I had to go and brown-nose. I refused to get dressed up and wore jeans and a black shirt. I must�ve still looked hot tho as I managed to pull the lead guitarist of the band she�d booked to play for our delectation. It took BF a while to notice but eventually he looked up from his pint and said "I think you�ve pulled, baby", to which the only answer I could offer was "Chuh-Ah". Whatever dastardly powers I ever had over middle aged lead guitarists with goatees is obviously still firmly in evidence. Big ole show-offs giving it the large one centre stage? Oh, that�ll be mine then. Ta very much.
Jooj and Treacle were woefully unimpressed with the buffet � at one point Treacle did a fine impression of Tom Hanks eating Caviar in Big as she took a mouthful of some kind of flabby insipid savoury nibble, which Im sure was supposed to be crispy, hot and delicious. I laughed plenty and let her go "PHTOOOEEEE" into a napkin.
Next morning I got up early and went to wake Jooj up to take her to her diving lesson. She wouldn�t get up. She was just tooooo tired. I finished getting dressed and thought Id make a start on the grocery shopping. By the time I was ready to go out (about five minutes later) Jooj and Treacle had installed themselves in front of the telly (wrapped in duvets cos it was, like 80 degrees in the sitting room(!)) and BF was shuffling about in boxers and fleecy, smoking a cig and clanging the coffee pot around. My parting shot to Treacle�s "where�s our breakfast?" was something along the lines of "Jesus H Christ, you�re not inCAPable" and off I went to Lid1.
When I got back the two of them were still in their jammies in the sitting room. They hadnt had breakfast. BF had put some trousers on but was still just a-drinking coffee in the kitchen. I said "why havent the children had breakfast?", he said "Oh, I thought they were getting their own", I said "Did you not notice that they hadnt come out to get it?" and then I lost my temper. Big Time. It went something like this (with the bits in brackets being the bits I said under my breath):
Me: *at dB 350* What the (fucking) hell do you think you�re doing? This is not a (fucking) hotel. I am not your (fucking) slave. If you think that this IS a (fucking) hotel then you must surely realise that hotels finish serving breakfast at around 9 o�(fucking) clock. If you (idle little swines) think you are getting any (fucking) breakfast now you are sadly mis(fucking)staken. The kitchen is (fucking well) closed as the (fucking) chef is now preparing your (fucking) lunch! Get (the fuck) upstairs and put some (fucking) clothes on (before I kill you, you little bastards)
Jooj: Can we have an apple?
Me: No! (Fuck OFF!)
BF: *nervously* ha ha, come along girls, up you go and get ready
Me: And you�re just as fucking bad.
Cue door slamming, sounds of children scampering upstairs and possibly the odd clap of thunder and some lightning making that sort of noise that you just KNOW is tearing a 300 year old oak tree in half somewhere. Possibly also the faint whiff of brimstone (but maybe BF just farted cos he was really really scared).
Took the children over to Bad Friend�s to pick up Bad Friend�s Daughter "H". The children jumped out of the car and tried to open Bad Friend�s back door. It was locked. Jooj peered through the window. I stood behind them pointedly glaring at the very large cast iron bell that sticks a foot out from the wall and, if Im not mistaken, is designed to alert the residents of the house to the fact that there may be callers at the back door. I couldn�t reach the bell as the children were stood right in front of me. Eventually they started glaring at the bell too, and then back to peering through the window.
Me: *in the voice of Darla* Im gonna wait in the car while you figure out what to do.
I swear they stood there for a full five minutes before they had the wit to ring the bell.
Once I was in the house and the children had gone upstairs to get H�s sleepover stuff, I vented my spleen to Bad Friend. Mostly making this kind of sound "ArrrArrrghArghArr" with an angry sort of face on. She laughed. I laughed too (but not much).
Got the children home to find a note from BF "Gone to get sheers (sic) to do garden". Three hours later he came back. Fuck knows where he went for the shears � did any of you guys stateside notice a big tall hungover-lookin fella with ski-gauntlets on rummaging about in your sheds on Saturday afternoon? Anyway he had Chum with him and they set about the rest of the front garden with the kind of gusto only two middle-aged guys trying to out �macho� each other can manage. Jooj, H and Treacle asked if they could go to the shop to get some sweets. Its about a half mile walk (no busy roads) and generally I don�t mind them going as long as they a) take my mobile with them b) don�t talk to strangers c) come straight back d)keep their money in their pockets until they�re AT THE COUNTER etc etc. I asked if they could get me a French stick for making garlic bread. I wrote them a shopping list (ONE item) and gave Treacle the money. Three quarters of an hour later they came back. Jooj had chocolate all over her face and they had a carrier bag FULL of sweets. They didn�t have the bread. They forgot.
I lost my temper again (although not quite so vocally as I didn�t want H to start crying or anything). I explained how they�d let me down and expressed my surprise that between the three of them they couldn�t manage a shopping list with ONE ITEM ON IT.
I got in the car intending to pull a four wheeled screecher out of the drive to express my annoyance. Chum�s car was in the way. I noticed him motion as if to move his car. I saw BF put out his hand to hold Chum back and shake his head. I started to open the window and then thought better of it, rammed the Mondeoshitmachine into drive, swung forward ten feet, wound the steering wheel around in the same way one might if one was, oh, say, trying to wrench the head off a moose and reversed out of the drive across the grass, in-between Chums car and BFs Volvo with oooh, millimetres to spare on each side. I went and got bread.
By the time I got back Id calmed down a bit. When I got out of the car, Chum said "I was going to move it, but BF said not to. What were you going to say when you wound the window down?"
I said (calmly and without emotion) "I was going to say �Im not a fucking retard. I can get out of my own fucking driveway. Why the fuck do you automatically assume that I couldn�t even drive a slippery stick up a dog�s arse just because Im a woman, you patronising cunt� but then I couldn�t be bothered."
Chum: *turning to BF* "Fair play, mate. You were right!"
I went inside and went to bed. While I was upstairs, Jooj and Treacle sneaked into the boudoir with a �sorry� card they�d made and placed it with a bar of chocolate on my dressing table.
In the evening the girls watched Johnny English and ate popcorn and Pringles and sweets and went to bed late. Chum stayed to dinner as a thank you for helping with the garden, then he got drunk and had to be put to bed in the spare room.
Sunday was a better day, I guess. BF made me cry by being nice about how snaky Id been all week. I made Jooj cry when I found the vile mess in the bottom of her wardrobe which was supposed to be her �tidying her room�. We went for a walk in the woods and came back for a roast dinner (and homemade rice pudding. And a cake). Jooj and Treacle went to bed and then Jooj got up again because she�d had a bad dream (wonder what brought that on? God, Im a crap mum) and I cuddled her up my arms like when she was little until I couldn�t do it any more because I was going to cry. She was resting her head on my head so I could say "Don�t give me nits, you fleabag" and make her laugh and then we were friends again.
This morning was all OK again. Girls have gone off to Shagnasty�s til Wednesday and me and BF are going to go to the pub when he�s finished teaching. Then I think we�ll come back and renew our acquaintance with each other which has been (only slightly) off the boil on account of my lack of confidence caused by multiple knock-backs at work, his worry over my health, our worry over the state of our finances, the kids driving me crackers etc etc etc.
We desperately need a holiday. No chance. Didn�t get one last year and not likely to get one this year either. I will be the main breadwinner in this household for the foreseeable future until BFs house is sold and then we have paid off all his debts/loans/favours (and they WILL be paid off, every single last one of them), we have to plough any spare cash into building the new studio. It upsets BF to be "sponging" off me (which is not how I see it, incidentally) and it upsets me to have to keep such a fantastically tight reign on the finances every bloody month. Id like to sit in the sunshine for a few days until the knots in my neck unwind a bit and I feel a bit less like throwing myself to the floor and weeping.
Ah, we women of Stepfordworld are made of tough stuff. We bite our bottom lip, sigh a little bit (very quietly) and then roll up our sleeves and get on with it. Ever optimistic, we refuse to believe that things wont get better. We smile just a little when our friends say "Oh my goodness, A whole week�s groceries for 25 quid! Arent you Gooood! And that blouse! From a charity shop you say? Well, how quirky, I don�t know how you do it!" and we don�t say "because I fucking well HAVE to, you smug cow" until they�ve gone. And we�ll empty out the piggy bank to lend a mate some cash cos we don�t like to see people go without. And if you turn up at meal times you�ll always get fed � even if it has to be FHB.
Nightie night dear friends.
(PS Ive update the cast list a bit to include a few more worky type people and extras who�ve been mentioned recently. Its up there on the left at the top � go see!)
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