Oh For Fucks Sake?! Friday*

FFS?! Friday is the brain child of Dear Baby G, who is awesome in so many ways, not the least of which is our shared love of Krispy Kreme donuts.

As she puts it, having a FFS?! Friday rant is cheaper than therapy (thereby saving money that can be spent Krispy Kremes. And wine and vodka).

Therapy in a box

Here’s my own personal FFS?! highlights from this week:

Miss5 became a Miss6.  That is all happening too quickly for me.  She’s old enough to dress, wash and groom herself.  She’s old enough to help tidy the house.  That’s good enough for me.  Now please stop growing before you realise that your mother is not the be all and end all of your universe, FFS.

It’s still school holidays here in WA.  I have to wrangle all 3 of my offspring at the same time, FFS.

Tied in to that, I got  completely shit-faced  slightly inebriated and had the mother of all hangovers - the one day of the week that #1Hubby had to go away for work, thereby requiring me to manage the feral threesome on my own for 48hrs, FFS.

Tied in to that, I made a bit of a tool of myself at the Movember launch party, and spent an embarassing and seriously weird amount of time apologising to Dennis Lillee and his family for all the people that must come up to him all the time when he's out...kinda exactly like I was doing at the time.  How embarassment, FFS.

Houses are being built next door and across the road.  Early morning banging, dust and debris, and work vehicles parked around and on the edge of my driveway all make me feel stabby.  Especially when the buffed, shirtless workmen stop to watch and smirk at my poorly driving skills as I require a 3 point turn to manoeuvre my way out of my own driveway, making me even more flustered and crap at driving than I already was, FFS.

I got 4 bills this week.  Why can’t they space them out?  Why do they have to gang up on me and arrive at the same time?  I’m going to select the utility that sends me the least junk mail, and calls me the least to offer extra crap services that I do not want or need – and that’s the bill I’m going to pay this week, FFS.

The shopping trolley was possessed.  Again.  And all 3 kids demanded to sit in it, thereby increasing my severe lean to the left load by at least 50Kg-55Kg, FFS.

Attached to the last item - all that extra pushing and pulling did absolutely nothing to reduce my tuckshop arm wingspan, FFS.

I ran out of wine, FFS.

I bought the wrong vodka, and I loathe the honey taste – that’s 1.25 Litres of Vodka that I am trying my best to fight the gag reflex and drink, but it’s not going well and I’m not enjoying it at all, FFS.

Okay I’m done.  For now.  But I may make this a weekly thing, because I like to whine, and any excuse to swear on the internet, right?

I encourage everyone to join in.

I’m saving a special spot next to me at the bar for DPCON12 (everything sounds cooler as an acronym, right?) for both Dear Baby G, as the brilliant mind who created FFS?! Friday, and also Sanity or Bust – for the best (or worst…depending how you look at it) FFS?! Friday post.

Another form of therapy in a box

*Sorry Mum, but that is the technical name of the link up, so I had to swear on the blog   again  for true literary accuracy.