Thing boys say.

This post contains a list of things which boys- or actually, supposedly grown men have said to me in the last month, in order of how much they amused me (least amusing first).

1. "Excuse me, do you put out?" - Yes I do, but not with you.
2. "Excuse me miss..." (good start) "... would you like to suck my dick?" - No. No I would not.
3. "Excuse me, ma'am..." (I actually like that better than 'miss') "...you look lovely tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like a shag?" - No. Very no.

But the winner is: "Show us ya tits, bitch!" No manners, and yelled from a moving car. What am I supposed to do, run beside the car yelling, "Wait, you haven't seen my breasts, yet!"? I don't know. I really don't. And can somebody, male or female, please tell me what part of that comment is meant to make me say, "Hey yeah! That's a great idea! I'll just strip off right here."?

This is not wisdom, this is simply logic.

Boys: Shape up! I don't care how big any part of you is and I don't care what you do or don't wax; just attempt to be a human being, and we'll all get on fine.

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

I think I only need to blog when I'm sad.

I'm not sad today, but I was hoping you missed me. I've gone from crying in general to only crying when I think of something worth crying about. I've been happy most of the time, and I've even been smiling. My face feels all funny and odd-like. I suppose it's hard to explain unless you feel it, smiling so much after so long, but I suppose everyone has felt it at some point.

Yesterday I got enough food for almost two weeks for myself from the wonderful feople at Food Aid. This cost me $7, and included cake. It has been a while since I've had more than one kind of cake or other sweet baked good in my home and for my consumption. It's just a good feeling in general.



I'm still not sure what's happening with my life, but I'm rolling with it. I know it's all good. I am a child of the Universe, blah blah etc.

"If you enter this world knowing you are
loved, and you leave this world knowing the same, Then everything that
happens in between can be dealt with." - Michael Jackson.

I'm steeling that quote and claiming it as Wisdom of the Pretty Kitty. Maybe shouldn't have left his name on it, then...



I will try to remember to write to you, even when I'm not sad,

Signed with love,

The Pretty Kitty.

Letter to a very good friend

I'm sharing this letter here because I feel it will help people other than me and the addressee. If you have friends you feel could benefit from this, please refer them to it. If you have no friends, I'll be your friend and you can refer it to me if you want, but I have already seen it...

I'm going to say: To my Sweetheart,
because, under all the layers of asshole, you do have a sweet heart. So you may no longer be my sweetheart in the cute, 1950s "going steady" way, but my point still stands.

I miss you.

You know, since you went away, before we broke up, I've just wanted a kiss so bad. Just a kiss. I was telling myself, "Just a week or so. He'll be home. You'll get your kiss." But then disaster. You're stubborn and arrogant, I'm stubborn and have an absolutely flaming temper. With this combination, we're broken up, yet again, but this time for good. So I'm sitting here wondering if I'll ever be kissed again, you know I don't want to kiss someone I don't love.

Tempers cool. I stop swearing at you in every text message and every phone call, and you stop calling me names (most of which aren't even applicable, I don't do that!). You ask if you can be my friend, and I'm so glad you asked because it means I don't have to (it would have been embarrassing for me, after I told you to get the f'k out of my life... Sorry about that). That's what I wanted when I first met you, your friendship, with the future possibility of kisses.
You ask if you can call, and I say yes. You're so supportive and sweet. You build me up instead of tearing me down. You offer advice when I feel lost. Every time I talk to you, you're seeming more and more like the wonderful man I fell in love with. Good one, you giant retarded butt-monkey!!!!!

That message I sent you last night, please disregard. I was listening to stupid soppy love songs at the time, and they made me remember I miss you. I tried to fix it by listening to the "Dirty Dancing" soundtrack, but that just reminded me that people die, which made things worse. Sorry. I know we probably could get back together, and it would be beautiful for a while. We'd smile and laugh and love each other, we'd say and do nice and beautiful things, but one day I'd irritate you and you'd be a bastard and I'd end up ripping your lungs out and feeding them to my cat.

I think we both know I'll probably end up with a girl one day, anyway. Even you must have noticed by now, boys SUCK!

I can't write anymore for two reasons: 1) The tears in my eyes are making it hard to see and 2) I'm writing with a permanent marker, and the fumes are starting to make me dizzy.

I want to sign this "Love from your Blossom", but I can't.
I will say
Signed with love, in some way, for always,
The Pretty Kitty.

PS- I found my sewing kit and I'm still willing to sew up those pants for you. I can't find them. If you threw them out, you're a wanker, they were just torn, not ruined. If you didn't, disregard.

Can I come live with you?

I'm now miserable again. In Hervey Bay, my Mum mentioned my break-up, and I burst into tears and said, "Make it not be real, Mummy!". People stared. Mum hugged me and bought me a hot chocolate sponge pudding.
My trip home was pretty good. I now feel expert at trains and things, and I like them much better than buses.
I got home this afternoon to be told by my mother (over the phone) that my Nana, my own sweet little Nana, doesn't want me to stay with her. She says I, an adult human being whom has been taking care of herself at least mostly independently for about eight years now, am too much of a responsibility for her to look after. FUCK! (Maybe she read what I wrote about the "secret meat" and is taking her slow, elderly revenge?)
Anyway, here's the list of why I can't stay where I am living and this situation as a disaster: 1) can't afford the rent; 2) Tearful memories of both good and bad times spent with ex-bf; 3) sometimes things fall on me through the upstairs floor, including muddy water and sand (or I hope it's only sand) which goes in my eyes/on my face/in various other places; 4) I would quite like my own space; 5) Maybe I could have a pet living somewhere else?...6) There is no lock on my door, and one night I came home and a woman I didn't know was sleeping in my bed.

I'm actually applying to be a house-sitter, which means I only need somewhere to go for about a month, until I get a "sitter's gig". I feel so lost. I have no home, no job, very little money, I'm having trouble with my childcare course, no boyfriend/girlfriend/whatever and my Maryborough church has closed for good, which sucks some of the fun out of Maryborough.

All suggestions are welcome if any of y'all have some ideas.

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

My trip to Maryboring (Maryborough)

I woke up at 5:30 last Monday morning. I wasn't previously aware that there was a 5:30 in the morning. Last time I woke up at that time, I had a small freak-out, thinking I'd accidentally slept until the late afternoon, before realising there are twenty-four hours in the day, and it was unlikely that I'd been asleep for seventeen of them. I was woken, an hour before my alarm was due to go off, by a small herd of elephants in the house above my head. Well, it sounded like a herd of elephants, it was actually a one-year-old running back and forth at great speed. I don't know whose idea it was to take the baby out of her cot at half-five in the morning, but I'm going to have him/her stuffed and mounted when I get back to the Gold Coast.
I stumbled out of bed at 6:45AM. I dragged myself upstairs and I ate half a punnet of strawberries and some plain corn chips for breakfast, not wanting to actually cook before my day of travelling. I gave the baby half a strawberry, and she ran around the house with it in her hand for about twenty minutes, before squishing it into her hair.
I hugged the five-year-old and told her I was going away, before racing out the door to run to the bus at five to eight.
I don't travel well on buses. They are not good for my stomach. I got to the train station and threw up at the bus stop. I then threw up on the train platform and in the bathroom, a very long way from a toilet or a sink. I didn't feel any better, but had run out of things to throw up, when I looked at my watch and saw there was only five minutes before my train pulled up. I ran back out to the platform, looking like death in a microwave, and waited for the train to the train to the other bus.
The train trip to Brisbane was good, not so sick-y. I arrived at the Roma St. Transit Centre at 10:05-ish. I had almost an hour before the tilt train left to take me to Maryborough, so I wandered around for a while. I still felt sick, so I didn't want to even think about food, but I was hungry, so I bought some sort of purple drink that implied it's good for hangovers... I felt a little better when I drank that (no, I wasn't, it's just very vitamin-y juice stuff).
I tried to send my Mum a text message from a pay phone because I'm cheap, and it's actually cheaper to send a text from a pay phone than from my mobile, but it refused to send. After I grumbled for a while and sent the text from my mobile, I took my ticket out to check the details. It was in my hand, and then all of a sudden, I couldn't find it anywhere. This was most unsettling for me, as I'd never travelled by train before. It was all ok- the very hot guy at the traveltrain office printed me a new ticket, and this one was stapled to a nice cardboard thingy, which you don't get if you print the ticket yourself- very swish!

I arrived at the Maryborough West train station at about half-two in the afternoon. A big sign at the station says "You are now entering Maryborough, Queensland's friendliest town" Which leads me to think, "What!? Was every other town full of emos or on fire or something on voting day?" Yeah... most Maryborough people don't do much for me.

Since I've been here in Maryborough I've seen all the people who made my life here beautiful, especially my cats. Maybe I'm a crazy cat lady too, but I'm allowed to be, I think it's genetic.
I've been to Childers. That's a nice little town, it's about half-way between Maryborough and Bundeberg. I bought new sunglasses there, which I've needed for some time. These ones have big frames, which are necessary due to my freakishly large, almost frog-like eyes. I also got myself "Goddess Diana" incense, which confuses me because it's got musk in it which I really don't like, but it's also got vanilla in it, which I really do like... It's very complicated living in my head. Everything is a drama and I like to make things as hard for myself as possible.

Last night was the last ever church service for my church here in Maryborough. That's the main reason I was up here. I cried so much that when Mum and I got home, I had to listen to "Rockin' Robin" five times, just to make the pain go away!
My church was the Angels of Light Christian Spiritualist Church. It has to close as we know it because our Reverend is leaving for family reasons, and nobody can take her place. It wouldn't be the same without her, anyway.

Today I'm going to Hervey Bay. I'll be shopping at Target for the first time in ages (there's not a Target within an easy walk from my home in Southport) I'm quite excited, and I'm hoping to buy a Space Bag to put all my clothes in to take with me down to the Gold Coast. I've basically been wearing the same ten or twelve things for the last year, which is just not right for a lady!

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

Can't think of a creative title. Bugger!

I was going to have a nice picnic dinner tonight with a friend of mine that I've so far only met on Twitter, but this happened and that happened and now it's not happening tonight. It's ok, I was already wearing make-up so I went out anyway. I took some of the food I'd bought for the picnic and I bought myself a choc-top ice cream from Hungry Jacks; I can't figure out for the life of me why everything is an average of 55c more expensive from the Hungry Jacks in the shopping centre compared to most others. My ice cream was $1.10, making it 10% more expensive than usual. Explain that, corporate giant!

Anyway, after I leave the internet cafe tonight I will probably do exactly what I was going to do if my friend had been able to make it- I will go to the park and play in the children's playground for a few hours, or until the park security guard feels the need to inquire about my well being.

Tomorrow I will be packing my bag for an action-packed week of adventure- I'm going to Maryborough on Monday. For those of you who don't know, Maryborough is a small semi-rural city (28 000 people) north of the Sunshine Coast, south of Bundeberg, near Hervey Bay. I'm going to be visiting my mother, who is obviously a crazy cat lady (and a crazy frog lady) but it's ok, because she has a husband, so she can have as many cats as she wants (she only has four, plus two of mine she looks after until I find a place where I can keep them myself; not so bad). She has frogs everywhere. Live ones, statues, postcards, fridge magnets, whatever! The area at the top of the back steps is called "Frog City". Up to fifteen frogs camp here every night. Frogs in Frog city enjoy the luxury of a swimming pool (pH balanced and regularly cleaned) and a white light that draws lots of bugs, turned on for this purpose for half an hour per night. All this is nothing compaired to what the cats get. One of the cats sleeps on Mum's bed. If she's lucky, Mum is allowed to sleep there, too. Three of the cats have their own bedroom with everything a cat could ever dream of (no dogs allowed!) and the other has claimed the entire area under the high-set house. The sixth cat is a stray, but I'm his favourite person, so one day he will live with me. When we first met this stray cat, he was skin and bone, and unable to eat due to infected gums. We prepared mushed food mixed with egg and milk for him a few times a day and he would drink it down and purr happily. His gums are long since heeled, but he expects this meal to be prepared for him regardless, and will not eat anything else! Mum is more than happy to do this for him. Crazy cat lady.
We also have two dogs, a bird, some *beautiful* water snails and some gold fish. They're all very loved and spoilt, but I think the cats and frogs get the best deal.
My Dad works away on an oil rig out in the desert, so he won't be home when I go to stay, which is a shame, but I'll take a Fathers' Day pressent up with me anyhow and leave it for when he gets back. (I love you, Dad!)

This is all for now,
Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

Tears in my cornflakes

I'm exaggerating. I can't afford cornflakes. But I have now cried every day and every night since I broke up with my boyfriend. The first time I was just walking down the street listening to the radio on my mobile phone. Some stupid sappy song that I usually wouldn't have listened to came on, and I turned it right up so at least I couldn't hear my pathetic bawling. Never mind that everyone else could.


I can be lying in bed, thinking about nothing in particular, and just start weeping. I leak like an old tap!
I was offered a free feed last night. A bowl of fried rice "but you'll have to pick the ham out." I accepted, but then cried again, because my boyfriend used to eat the meat I picked out of things. Now who will eat the bits I pick out of my food!?I cry because he's not home, then I cry because when he does come home, he's not mine anymore, then I cry because I don't care if he loves me or not and I'm fine, then I cry because I do care if he loves me, then I cry because I can't remember why I'm crying anymore. When all that crying is done, I usually cry a little because I'm hungry, because all that crying uses a lot of energy.
It's not just crying, though. It's all manner of emotional outbursts. I was in a toy shop two days ago. I went there to cheer myself up a little. The young and old and depressed 20-somethings can all find a few minutes of joy in a toy shop. While I was there, and I had not been there very long, I walked past a large "Thomas the Tank Engine" toy. "Hi! I'm Taaamis!" the train tried to tell me, in a very strong American accent.

"No you're fucking not!" I raged (inwardly, thank God!) "You're an American. Thomas is English, and his name is said 'Thomas' not 'Taaamis', and also, you suck, and also FUCK YOU!" I don't know how it all stayed in my head, but it did, and I ran out of the toy shop and hid behind some shoes in Kmart for half an hour until I got over the horrible shock of those elongated American vowels. Wisdom of the Pretty Kitty: Americans love vowels and want them to last forever. The British hate vowels and want them over and done with as quickly as possible.
While I was hiding behind the shoes, a nice lady, about 55 or 60 years old, came and asked me if I was alright, because (sweet fucking HELL!) I'd started crying again. In my most grown up voice I said, "Yes'm. It's just... I just... EVERYONE HATES ME!"

I actually had a good day today. I did cry (pretty constantly for most of the day) but there was no sobbing, so it was harder for people to tell. I had a little money spare today, so I bought myself a nice lunch. I went to three different places but I ended up getting a toasted salad sandwich;pancakes with raspberries, ice cream, cream, chocolate fudge and icing sugar; and coffee and two mini cream puffs for about $8 all together. And I got a new dress for $10, too. It may be retail therapy, but I figure therapy is therapy, and therapy is good.

Signed with Love,
the Pretty Kitty.

Pennies from Heaven

Literally: pennies (old people, explain to the young people. I'll wait...) twenty cents has mysteriously appeared in my bank account. (If anyone from my bank is reading this, nothing has appeared in my anything. I'm making it up.) Seriously Twenty cents. When I found it today, it made me feel SO happy, because it's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. Then I felt sad, because if getting 20c is the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, the rest of my life must be a big crunchy plate of crap.
I then went grocery shopping. I went to Coles, which is becomming delightfully affordable, even for wonderfully broke people who get excited about 20c. I bought enough food for myself for 3-5 days for under $7, and am no longer the worst vegetarian ever, as I am now the proud owner of three carrots, a pear, a potato two apples and a tomato... plus this thing that is a vegetable but I don't know what it is and it came in a soup pack.

I will be going up to Maryborough next week to visit my mum. I was hoping dad would be there too, but he'll be at work on an oil rig. I'm a little nervous about the trip up, coz I'll be taking more than one train, and I've never done that on my own before. I figure my dad does it all the time, and he once tried to make a call from the TV remote, so it can't be that difficult.
I'm not sure if I should start packing to move to Nana's now, or wait until I get back from Maryborough, so I can pack things in my travel bag as well? I may do half-and-half. Input on this vital decision is welcome from all members of the peanut gallery (old people, explain to the young people. I'll wait...).
I'll let you all know how my trip went once I get to Maryborough, if I can get library time to use the computer. I may have to pretend to be my mother and use her library card.

That's all for now,
Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty

Very First Ever Blog...

Well, it's not my very first ever blog, it's just the first one I intend to update more than once every six months. I actually have about five blogs floating around out there. Maybe more. Some I forgot where to find them, Some I tried to delete, but they just won't die!



There's a lot happening in my life at the moment, so I thought I'd find an outlet. And this is it. My mindless dribble, for sentence after sentence, just to clear my head.

A little about me:

I'm qualified to work in childcare, but I can't find anyone to hire me. I'm a nice girl. They all suck, obviously.

I am the worst vegetarian ever. There are no vegetables in my house. If I were vegan, I would starve.
I've recently broken up with my boyfriend. I need to leave to house I've been living in with him, for various reasons, which I will get into later unless I forget to. I have the memory of a brick. The main reason is that he lives here too, but that's not the only reason. I'm now going to be living with my Nana for a while, which will be great, but she does try to feed me meat. Sometimes she makes a game out of it, by doing things like hiding little bits of meat in my mashed potatoes. She calls it "secret meat" and assures me it doesn't count.
While I'm living with my Nana, I'm going to try and plant a veggie garden. She doesn't know it yet. Nor does her gardener. My Nana's gardener is a very nice man. He's profoundly deaf, and my Nana feels she's being very community minded, having a deaf gardener. She talks about how deaf he is, and what a wonderful gardener he is even though he's deaf, until everyone listening wants to pull their own ears off and put them down the garbage disposal. Fun times.
While I'm there, I will be looking for a place to live that isn't with my Nana, but is still cheap.

The current home I'm living in is wonderful. There's a pool, two small children and a very good friend here. I'm leaving here because 1- I'm sharing a room with my now ex boyfriend, 2- Sometimes the kids spill things on the floor above my room and things drip on my face while I'm sleeping and 3- Living in this house is giving me a massive nicotine addiction. I'm not going to start smoking just because I'm addicted to my house!

I think that's all I have to complain about at the moment. Hopefully I'll check in again in about a week. :-)

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.