July 30, 2008

  • fri_108

     (http://www.someecards.com/ Thanks Sis!!)

    So now I have everyone patting my hand and converging en masse to tell me how sorry they are. I know they mean well, but I am currently trying to maintain some semblance of normality and doing things like attending Mousey's netball practice is a way I forget. I am not talking about my true mates (internet and in real life) but those women who've said hello to me on the playground maybe once and now want to pat my hand and cry on my shoulder. I want to smash them.

    WTF?

    If I have a relationship with you, you know it. We chat, we go for coffee, we get wildly drunk and elbow the kids aside to Singstar, we email nasty cruel jokes to each other, we take pot shots at each other's fashion sense -- sometimes all we do is email. Or post. But it's real.

    It's not real to break into tears over someone who merely shares space with you outside the Kindergarten door. Seriously uncool.

    And I highly doubt whether I want to call that person to tell them I am puking my guts out and I need them to pick up the kids.

    The ones I call are the ones:

    • who've seen me in my pyjamas at 7pm on a Sunday night,
    • who've laughed at my bed-head,
    • who save me a seat at Brownie meetings so I don't have to talk to the skinny seriuous mums who take this shit seriously. (Brownies gives my kid a chance to do craft and to do camping. I repeat: camping. With dirt in your food n' stuff)
    • who accept that a Brie omelette prepared by a drunken friend at 11pm is a healthy meal for the road,
    • who rock up and grab my kids and return them two days later when they heard the diagnosis, so I could scream and cry without worrying about anyone but me for that space of time.

    The ones I bitch to are:

    • the ones who've gotten my completely self-absorbed rants
    • the ones who have never offered advice, just a simple 'email me'
    • who send me dirty jokes or irreverent cards.

    They 'get' me. That is a friend.

Comments (5)

  • god why do people feel they have to be a part of something big. ykwim? people who tell stories they heard third hand as if they were there. yuck.
    you should tell them you want to smash them. it's such a good image for them to take away with their shame.

  • You should totally leave a big flaming bag of poo on their cars.  That would make you feel better.  Well, it would make *me* feel better.   

  • you've always been a GREAT friend to me.  

  • And you to me Sartori --- we've gotten each other through some times in the past, haven't we?

  • FLAMING BAG OF POO!!! Nearly broke myself open laughing at the thought....

    And Powwow, I don't think they have any shame, they have the self-awareness' of amoeba.

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