May 9th, 2002

Carravaggio

I'm Only Happy When It Rains



It would seem like that, but I was having fun this morning, in spite of life's constant little disappointments. Brought in a stack of choice Ewan mags to scan for the never quite right pages in the still wee hours on the far superior work scanner but it's not working today. Poopy. Fortunately stuck inside one of the mags was the latest cd of things, wonderful things (as Howard Carter was wont to exclaim at the drop of a hat) from a dear friend. So, in spite of discovering the cd drive on the new EvilWorkPC is complete crap - it hangs every other minute or so - I perservered to enjoy songvids from Oz, Farscape, Smallville and Andromeda. Then Drew sent me an url for a file trading site. So all morning I've been dabbling in tv shows that don't even screen here, and probably never will.

So I rang up Telstra, and lo and behold my street is broadband enabled. Fancy that. But I need mother's permission to get it, as the account is in her name. So I decide to ask the old witch anyway - of course she said no. You young people today, you can't have everything, it's about time you learnt to go without. Yeah, right, so I'll have nothing to swap or talk about with my friends (as my current dial up connection manages the grand speed of 0.01 kbs which is why I have so much problem with my pages), and it'd be much cheaper than swapping tapes from overseas, just the postage alone. No. It's not fair. Did I ever ask for or get a life of my own, a man, children, a house of my own, a job I could stomach? Do I spend all my money on booze, cigarettes, drugs or the pokies? Have I ever been out at all hours, running with a wild pack? No, I've been Little Miss Cinders all my life, working and studying hard day and night and I just wanted a better net connection because it's my only link with the outside world, my pages the only things I ever get respect for. She knows this, so no. Do I even ask for a kitchen with appliances more modern than the 1920s? I mean, no dishwasher, no washing machine, no vacuum cleaner. I have to do everything by hand, because she prefers it that way. It's so hard and time consuming. The house is a mess because I get home some days from work just too tired to clean it, and it's too dark to see to scrub down things - half the light fittings she's broken now.


All I wanted to do was look at some lame tv shows and now I'm feeling like some locked away hero in an Alexander Dumas novel. Pout. Whimper. Festering resentment.

Why don't I move out? Because everytime I do the bitch takes to her bed - the last time I'd just spent a week pulling 16 hour days at work when she phoned up everyone to tell them she was taking an ambulance to hospital because I wasn't looking after her to her satisfaction and didn't I get taken aside for a good talking to afterwards by all and sundrey. She's already driven my Dad to suicide. Somebody save me, please.

I wanted to be more positive, but I've got some hard work to do today, the templates they've been waffling about for a year, they want tomorrow! I'll be lucking to get home in time to watch Jack & Daniel tonight. Damn, and I'd bought a nasty cheap lambrusco yesterday. Yes, I know, how common, but my local bottle shop considers a Chilean Merlot to be fancy pants enough to require rummaging about in the back. I'm just lucky they stock any wine at all. Not that it looks like I'll have any time to enjoy myself at all. So much for any fic musing plans I had.

Heh, sometimes I want to bury my Bro in the backyard, but sometimes I love him dearly. Just made a clandestine deal, I order him books off the net, he picks me up some cds at Borders (because the nearest Borders is an hour and a half away at least by bus).


 

Carravaggio

erky perky

Yikes, you know you work for the government when you see men proudly wearing long socks and shorts sneaking a snoko outside your building. They're a dying breed, so you should try to catch them while you can. I was out to get some "fresh" air. I use ironic quotation marks because while the sky is blue if you look straight up, it's actually brown on the horizontal view. Erky Perky.

Ducked out also to cheer myself up with another carton of Oak. I've decided that's my treat for the day. Drew has suggested I try OPtus, but I doubt I'll be able to circumvent the wicked witch of the west. She's been handed control of the one part of my life she had no control over - how it must have kept her up nights. Not to mention the destruction of my garden. Move the pots and they'll be fine. Yeah, right. I knew what to expect. Half of the pots have been broken to pieces by "cats" (please note only one pot ever lost in the five years prior to the forced removal) and of those plants that were left, about 75% have died from lack of water, sun, etc.

So she's hobbled my net connection, killed my garden, admitted she's in my room every day, thrown out countless belongings of mine, destroyed clothing, forbidden me to go out, locked me out, forbidden me to have friends over...I could go on and on and you know I can. It's postively Brothers Grimm, I tell you. Haven't even mentioned her passive aggressive "accidents" like stabbing me with knives, handing me super heated objects, scalding me with hot water, etc. And then there are the relatives who left me here to look after the house and everything when I was ten, with both parents certifiably incapable of looking after themselves, let alone me. If I end up like Norman Bates, well, every girl has her snapping point. And she's rather crossed my line now. I thought I'd never bear the loss of my garden, but I turned back to working on the net night and day. Now she's after that. I guess I'll be scrubbing floors all night after all. If only that would make her happy and leave me alone, but it never has. Wanted: One Prince...


 

Carravaggio

oooh, Lex....

Just watched some Lex & Clark again with the sound turned down to cheer myself up. Oh my goodness. I don't think I'll ever tire of watching Lex play with the whipped cream on his coffee. I never really thought you could have Starbucks porn (though my longing for a moccafrappacino when the nearest outlet was across the Pacific came close) but I stand corrected. Daniel and the icecream? Forget that amateur, baby. Oh Lex, Lex...I'll never be able to look at a mocca with whip the same way again. If Clark don't want him, can I have him? Handsome, filthy rich, evil, comic collection, and oh, whipped cream. what's not to lust after?