Oh, I'm sorry... did I just hurt your feelings?

So it's Tuesday morning and the sun is absolutely glorious, blazing in through my windows and warming my cockels as I write this. I woke in a good mood and I guess although I'm still relatively in a good mood I am slightly fucked off.

This isn't due to the fact that getting my children ready for school and out of the door in record time is one of the most stressful things a woman can experience, no. I got that shit down over the past few years, leetsauce. It isn't due to the fact that I am still coughing up a lung every 10 minutes due to the husband fetching home SARS off the god damn plane from his business trip. And it's not due to the fact that Vampire Diaries was yet again, not aired last week. It's none of those things....

No apt title..... meh err... Dick Landlords and Jizz shots... s'all I got man!

My Landlord is a douche.

His name is John. John is an asshole. John is a 70 something, uptight stony faced miserable wanker who quite clearly has not been laid in over some 20 years. Ok I don't know that for sure, but I would put my money on it. These things are not what make him a douche. 

Terror at the Hands of The Tea-less Handyman...

I had a visitor today, who was the most odd looking man I've seen in a very very long time. A handy man. A handy man called Dirk.

I think Dirk is a serial killer, or potentially a serial killer.....

And the BAFTA goes to .........

Grrr I can't sleep... It's midnight and the land of nod just will not embrace me and so I find myself sat here, writing random shit drinking tea, dunking Ginger Nuts and contemplating the shopping spree that I have been roped into going to with Michelle tomorrow morning... for wedding shit.

I'm not a huge fan of weddings, to be honest I find them kinda boring.. until the reception starts and everyone gets mullered and all wait with baited breath to see just who will either a) make a prick of themselves and fall ass over tit on the dancefloor, b) be brave enough to cop a feel of ol' Aunty Janet who's better known for her army interrogation and torture expertise or c) who has a domestic... Nothing like a good ol' domestic at a wedding, there's always one!!

Bringing up Psycho 1 & 2

I wouldn't say that I was 'destined' to be a mom, infact, when I decided that I wanted a baby (some 10 years ago now) I was in Asda doing my grocery shopping cooing over a pretty ugly baby in a pushchair. I figured hey, one more mini me in this world wouldn't be so bad, would it?

Strange decision to make, this having a baby shit, particularly since I hate kids. But nonetheless, I got up the duff, bun in the oven and had a shotgun wedding because we wanted to do it all properly. Man oh man, did I think I knew EVERYTHING back then. Ante-Natal classes? Fuck no, I don't need to learn how to fuckin breathe, I do that shit everyday, just tell me what God damn drugs I can get... 

Life was simpler, before I woke

Apologies for being a lazy slow ass bitch with the ol' posting but I've been somewhat sick, stressed and just so ggrrrrrr that it's been impossible to sit down and pen it. Add to that the fact that it's half term and the children have royally fucked me off and stressed me to Hell and it's only day 1 of the school holidays *thumbs up* Awesometastic start!! Further, it's day 1 of quitting smoking.

It wasn't a well thought out idea to quit smoking, in true Raven style, I've just impulsively decided to stop. Surely, it can be that simple, right?  

Feelin' totally sad and pathetic

Well, I've been sick now for almost a week. And if you read my earlier post on sneezing, snot and shit you'll understand when I say I didn't get my rocks off, I fail to see how anyone could have found me sexy and all I have to show for this dire chest infection is a crippled back from coughing and hacking a lung up  . Still, it did mean I could be deadbeat for a while without feeling guilty.

It's not until you're ill, and I mean really ill and not some sniffle, that you realise a few things, well I certainly did.