7 Jul 2016

Naughty 40’s

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

Walking down the aisle at Woolies the other day, scanning the magazines, my eyes landed on an article being advertised “HOW TO GET A JOB AT 40, FOLLOW THESE SIMPLE STEPS!”

I turn 40 in December. *gasp*

So I’m going to call upon my many many MANY years of experience (because apparently when you hit 40 you are fuck old and should have a lot of experience) and help you out here.

You want to know how to get a job when you’re 40? Let me break it down for you: LIKE ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING DOES AT ANY AGE YOU COCKTONSIL! (FYI: cocktonsil is for the writer… not you. You’re a delight, never change.)

Send CV. Go for Interview. Dazzle with your motherfluffing genius, or, cross and uncross legs like Sharon Stone showing off your lady garden that has been intricately shaved into the words “Hire me!” and taaaadaaaaa, job done.

Turning 40 is apparently a “thing”.  Everyone has something to say about it… Like you cross over into some sort of dark side the minute the clock strikes twelve when you’ve been on earth for 2 scores. See, that is just some of the shit you know when you’re my age. What a “score” means… 20 years for you young uns… (Ok I lie, I didn’t know that.  I googled that shit).

I am fully expecting my teeth to become loose and my bladder to become a little leaky the instant I wake up on my birthday, and I’ll begin to say shit like “In my day, I walked to school, in the snow, barefoot…” and “pass me my teeth sonny…” because that is the impression every one is giving me, and I say balls to that!

Ageism. I cannot grasp it.

Even being pregnant at my age I was listed as a “high risk pregnancy” because of my age. What the fuck? Oh no you did not just imply that my vagina is too old to push this baby out! It’s quite young and wrinkle free still I’ll have you know, just ask my doctor, he was all up in my grill for 12 hours and not once did he yell out “we’ve got an old vagina here, bring me the paddles in case we need to revive this thing…”

Yes, yes, so I’m turning 40. Big fucking whoop. Life carries on, just like it did the day before. I STILL don’t know how to do my taxes.  I still get nervous when my parents use my full name. Hula Hooping completely evades me, and I still don’t know the difference between lend and borrow – and don’t care to learn either, you know what I mean so don’t give me shit about it. There’s a lot I don’t know that I probably should at my age, but meh there you go.

What I do know is that we all get there… and no one ever really “feels” their age mentally, so you can mock me now for my age. But when you come hobbling “over the hill”, I’ll be there waiting with my zimmerframe to welcome you, and to possibly lob my dentures at your stupid face.

….and I might be wearing a rubber catsuit and a gimp mask while doing it. Don’t be afraid, apparently it’s known as the “Naughty 40’s” for a reason…

Side note: Sheeezus…. don’t ever try be clever and get a Google image of “cat in rubber suit with gimp mask”…  *poke out minds eye*

3 May 2016

I’m backkkkk!

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

When I fell pregnant, I stopped writing.  If you read my drivel often (thanks mom) you would have noticed this.

A nearly 3 year blank space. Why? Well I guess it was because I thought that that time belonged to me, and me alone. I wanted to keep somethings personal. If you know me, you know that this is a near on impossible task on any other day. I will happily tell people behind me in Checkers that I wish the queue would go faster as I am desperate to get back to the car so I can pull my thong out of my bum because holy fucking shit, it’s right up there… so for me to keep any personal detail to myself is, well… hard. (Filters are for other people).

I was desperate to write posts like “Right – so let’s talk haemorrhoids!” throughout my pregnancy, because come on!! Don’t lie, don’t pretend, you’ve all had one… mine was called Carl. No I lie… I never named mine, but I wish I had… but because I couldn’t see his face (Yes, haemorrhoids are always male)  I felt that naming him wouldn’t be kind… what if he were more of a Rupert?

However, I had a driving force behind my sudden silence. My baby. My precious sweet little baby that would be arriving in the world would one day learn to read, and in doing so might one day stumble upon my blog, and be forced to read about her mother’s vagina, and how her father puked burger patty into mom’s electric car windows once. Ahhh memories, that burger patty stayed with us for a very… very… long time.

If she were ever to read any of it, what would she think of her mom?

And so I stopped writing.  Stopped doing the one thing that allowed me to vent, rage, and occasionally talk about unicorn vaginas. And in doing so, I lost my outlet, I lost me.

But now, because hindsight is always 20/20, I have decided FUCK THIS SHIT! And to start writing again. I am who I am, I write silly things, I use very bad words and am descriptive in ways that make prudish people’s lips make that funny shape, like an arsehole shape… you know the one.

I suspect some of your lips might just have done that.

Ava will read this one day. Maybe she’ll laugh. Maybe she won’t. But all of this is less about her and more about me.

So in advance: I’m sorry my pickle, if reading all of this has made you cringe. If you think it’s funny then *fist bump*. If not, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EVEN HAVE ACCESS TO THE INTERNET FROM THE NUNNERY IN PIKSONDERWATER…?!

Oh and hold on, because if you don’t like your TRUE birth story being  told, not the one about how there was a stream of golden sunlight gently touching my sweaty brow from the window, while I gave a small sneeze and you just popped out with a smile on your face, and more of the real mom version where I managed to get myself a smaller vagina from giving birth instead of one like a clowns pocket, then stop reading now…

13 Jan 2016

Don’t tell me what to do 2016!!

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

Oh Lordy, what is it with a new year that makes people go bat shit crazy with these Goddamn resolutions?! I thought I’d resorted years ago to not do resolutions because all it is, is a lot of pressure and frankly I don’t like being told what to do, even if it’s me! But alas here we are.

This year I’m going to not drink so much… check.

For a week.

And then I’m back to drinking like a hobo, you know, when they still have a little money and don’t need to be draining meths through bread…. I have standards people, and am a little afraid of what the gluten will do to me.  It is a new year after all and am wanting to try new fancy things, like bragging about being gluten free – this is a lie, I’m not scared of gluten… doesn’t it just make you fart a lot? (I may need to read up on this, everyone can do with a little less farting… and technically farting less makes me greener doesn’t it (or is that cows?), and surely to be greener would be to check off another resolution??).

Just an FYI, this is just an example… I’d never give up wine. Well not for good anyway, it’s sirens song will always lead me back to its heady deliciousness…. This may or may not mean that I have a drinking problem.

This year I am going to be greener. Fart less. See above. I’d try my hand at composting my own rubbish too but then I fear that I would have to grow dreads and start smelling like patchouli oil too, and tie dye just isn’t my thing because I’m living in 2016 and I’m not on acid…

This year I’m going to swear less.  Fuck that.

This year, I am going to lose 10kg’s. Well yes, this is obvious, because I ate my body weight in cheesecake over the last 3 weeks. Fuck you festive season and all your deliciousness (I’m lying, unfuck you, you were a delight). This one I will have to do, because my muffin top is now less of a muffin top and more of a … well I don’t even know…. What would you call it if your muffin reaches your knees? A Roly poly…?

Anyhoo, and yes, the kicker. Because Dalekins says I am goalless (is that even a word, like, spellcheck is not underlying that shit so it must be right) and this may be causing my slight depression lately (although I think it’s due to the price of avo’s have you seen that shit lately?? R45 for two! Come on!!!) he thinks I should start being a mad bastard like him and start running. Although he runs up mountains, literally (please refer to comment about him being a mad bastard).

He’s been kind and suggested… a short little 5km here and there, you know, to perk me up a little (not sure if he means my arse or my mood *suspicious face*). Now if you know me there is nothing short about a 5km run. You may as well have told me that I have to lunge and flex my glutes all the way to the Grand Canyon. I look after a toddler, who at any moment is pretty much like an excitable wet cat motoring it through the house like a Tasmanian devil, is this not enough?!! Apparently not.

Sooooooo I have started a program called “Couch to 5km” (mainly just to make him shush). I am on day 2 today, and literally only had to run for 8 minutes on Monday, and I am in fucking agony… If I were a penis, I’d be super happy about myself today because I am motherfucking stiff as a board and dreading this afternoon!! How am I going to run for another 8 minutes today? HOW! Why running for fuck sakes, of all the stupid things to choose… no one’s even chasing me!! Right now, I would rather be straddling an electric fence… with a wet vagina! wet… you know… from, rain and stuff.

Pray for me. Just pray…

22 Dec 2015

Get an Essay That Satisfies The Needs You Have

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

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22 Oct 2015

Just How To Handle People

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

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4 Oct 2015

The Very Best Flyer Templates On the Web

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

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17 Sep 2015

Go Go Gadget Vagina!

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

Wow, so I haven’t written anything since the 80’s.  This makes me a sad panda.

Apparently when you fall pregnant, your brain literally does turn to mush, or maybe that’s just me. Or MAYBE it’s because everyone around me has become super responsible because we have a little pinkfoot in the house now, so I cannot regale anyone with brandy soaked tales of Dalekins vomiting in his shoes, or being absolutely convinced there was a tokolosh in our garden.  Ok, ok, to be fair, that was more “mushroom” fuelled than brandy…  and by mushrooms, no I don’t mean the button variety from Woolies, I mean the stuff that entailed me having to crush it in a mortar and pestle and pour it into shot glasses (I am like the Nigella of the drug world – wait, isn’t Nigella the Nigella of the drug world..?)

Anyhoo just on that story, let me just say mushrooms don’t work on me. I am mushroom proof, I can’t even get stoned correctly for fuck sakes, which left me being the babysitter to Dalekins and two other guys (I won’t divulge details of who they were incase their moms are avid blog readers, and why wouldn’t they be? I am awesome). But incase Dalekins family reads this, then by mushrooms I definitely mean the button mushroom variety. Anyhoo yes, Dalekins became convinced that there was a tokolosh running in our garden, he even kicked a ball at “it’s head”. Because if I were a tokolosh, that’s what I’d be scared of… a drunk guy trying to kick me in the head with a tennis ball…

I don’t quite know how I got on to the story. But I have been suffering from serious writers block, so I have decided to just write a lot of crap until inspiration strikes again… bear with me now! I mean a lot has happened in my life the past year and a half, but I am positive no one wants to read about the horror that was my vagina after giving birth… (Or maybe you do, maybe I should do a VAGINA poll?) tore myself a new one I did and ended up having what I lovingly now refer to as The GREAT ETHIOPIAN CIRCUMSCISION.  (<- potential Title to my next post?)

If you would like to read about The GREAT ETHIOPIAN CIRCUMSCISION then comment with the hashtag #GoGoGadgetVag maybe we can trend on Twitter because my Vagina trending on twitter would make my life. Ok no wait this is all just false advertising. By saying #GoGoGadgetVag I am giving the impression that my vagina can infact do cool things like shoot a spiderweb… or be invisible (wouldn’t that piss Dalekins off!)  I’m just going to leave this here.

Or I could just turn this into a mommy blog, where I regale you with tales of boogers, poo consistency and 5 Reasons why toddlers are like drunk hobo’s. But imagine the horror of mommies finding this blog expecting to hear actual advise on teething and not “Put a generous helping of brandy on the gums, and then continue to slowly pour capfuls for yourself until teething no longer bothers you!”

Possibilities are endless…

Here’s a goat for taking the time to read this stupid blog post.

15 Sep 2015

How-to Compose an Article About Yourself

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

Article tolerance This dissertation can be an authentic work by Concernedresident. It does not always reveal the views expressed in RationalWiki Statement. but we welcome conversation of a extensive selection of tips. Unless otherwise mentioned, this is authentic content, introduced under CC-BY- SA 3.0 or any version that is later. Notice RationalWiki:Copyrights. Feel liberated to produce reviews around the chat page. That may probably be a lot more appealing, and may echo a bigger range of RationalWiki publishers’ thoughts. Read the rest of this entry »

15 Sep 2015

How-to Compose an Article About Yourself

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

Article tolerance This dissertation can be an authentic work by Concernedresident. It does not always reveal the views expressed in RationalWiki Statement. but we welcome conversation of a extensive selection of tips. Unless otherwise mentioned, this is authentic content, introduced under CC-BY- SA 3.0 or any version that is later. Notice RationalWiki:Copyrights. Feel liberated to produce reviews around the chat page. That may probably be a lot more appealing, and may echo a bigger range of RationalWiki publishers’ thoughts. Read the rest of this entry »

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