Confessions

I confess to feeling like a cranky old buzzard who just wants to stamp around the house muttering ‘motherfucker’, ‘shithole’, ‘cunt’, ‘bastard’, and any other swear word I can dream up, any slam a few doors while I’m at it.

For no other reason than being a tired cranky old buzzard.
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I confess to having an overwhelming urge to have a cigarette and get absolutely off-my-trolley drunk. Preferably on martinis, but a Cosmopolitan would be equally good, or even some Piper Heidsiech champagne.
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I confess to being a strict old-fashioned parent of late, pulling the boys up on the slightest of behaviour glitches.
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Xbox
I confess that to mark a very big moment for Felix, we bought him Star Wars Lego for the Xbox.

I HATE the Xbox.
The Xbox brings out the worst of the cranky old buzzard.
And that I then had an epiphany.
I hate the boys playing Xbox (it is a very very rare event until the arrival of Star Wars Lego).
I am one of those people who thinks Xbox, Play Station etc are major contributors to the downfall of civilisation.
I hate the parent it makes me.
Then I realised – who is the adult around here?
So I sat the boys down, said I didn’t like computer or video games, and that while they may play them on Daddy’s watch, there will be no Xbox on Mummy’s.
They just shrugged, went “OK”, and got a few books for us to sit on the lounge and read together.
Then I read to them in bed and watched as their eyes got heavier and heavier and finally closed.

And didn’t feel like swearing quite so much.
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Idiot
I confess to being a COMPLETE IDIOT for not organising to take tomorrow off and have another 4-day weekend (for those of you overseas, Tuesday is a public holiday here for ANZAC day).

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Amalah
I love her writing and until yesterday felt a connection with her in the whole – oh my god – working and baby = hard.
Then she went and fucking resigned.
And is so friggin’ talented, well-connected, popular – that she is going it alone and will – without a doubt – be hugely successful and subsequently rich.
This has pissed me off. I know I have no place to be pissed off. At all.
But I freelanced and basically sucked at it.
Because I am, at my very core, inherently lazy.
So when it came to pitching for new business or selling myself to prospective clients, I would sooner have gone to mother’s group with the boys, eaten too many pieces of a crappy walnut custard loaf from Bakers Delight and left to be home in time to watch Dr Phil and Oprah.
So I ended up working on shitty projects or good projects for bully-bosses and being very very very poor.
Which was a very large contributor to my fast slide to madness.
So really, what I’m confessing, is to being really very lazy and wanting the life of celebrity.
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Inexplicable desire to be violent
For some bizarre reason, I have a real urge to hit something. Not someone. But to do something hard and punishing – like a boxing class or something, where I can just pummel the shit out of something, sweat a lot and maybe scream a bit.
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Insert swearing here
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And Bec – who said you could go away for a few days??? Just because you work like a packhorse doesn’t mean you then get to go frolic in the meadow for a few days.
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I’m tired, and going to bed.

And yes, I can hear you all thanking the Lord for such small mercies.