FFS Friday - the Where's My Freaking Tax Return You Bastards?? Edition

Oh hai! I haven't whined for a while. Stuff's been ok for the most part. This week has contained a noticeable build up of stupid though.

I finally got all our gazillion payment summary things and decided to do our tax myself this year. FFS.

WonderMan is going to get a tax bill. FFS.

I got a tax return. No FFS.

Turns out after WonderMan worked five separate jobs this tax year my Centrelink estimate was about $15000 short. FFS.

My tax return has been swallowed up by the overpayment, and there's still some to pay back. FFS.

So I put myself through all of that trauma of lodging online and I'm not getting a cent. FFS.

If I'd gone to an accountant I'd be at least $200 worse off but that is not much consolation right now. FFS.

Frog has returned to her factory default settings, all of which are "NO." FFS.

Every word I say needs a smart answer according to Tiger. Every damn word. FFS.        

WonderMan was supposed to sell his car three months ago because his work is just down the road, and I've just been forced to pay more freaking registration for it because he's still driving it to work every day, regardless of whether it's registered or not. FFS.

He insisted he would only drive it if it was pouring with rain and he didn't want to get me up. Every day for two weeks I've been sending him a text message that says "So I assume it's raining on your lazy arse because it sure as hell isn't here." FFS.

He is shitty because I drive to work. Well yes, I do, because I have to get two children to literally opposites edges of the town and get back to work in the middle. In heels. FFS.

I'm still a temp, and stuck in that terrible place between leaving to go to a permanent or full time job, and holding out because the company I work for are fantastic and I don't particularly want to go anywhere else. FFS.

I just finished reading 50 Shades of Grey. FFS.

I want to stab my eyeballs with a fork. FFS.

I would be much happier if the low intelligence life form who wrote it was forced to pay damages and compensation to those of us who have subjected ourselves to the torture of reading it just so we can shut up the various idiots telling us we are not allowed to have an opinion on it until we have read it. FFS.

I can't find strong enough words to tell them my opinion. It made me alternately murderous and desperately hopeless about the fate of the human race if the majority is excited by such gormless drivel. FFS.

I can't afford to buy a better book to heal my rotting brain cells because I'm not getting a damn tax return. FFS.

You should all go visit Dear Baby G, and share your first world whines too.  

FFS Friday

Dear Baby G and co are at it again with their weekly first world whine... so let's get into it shall we?

Blogger wants me to switch to Google Chrome and is driving me mad with the constant pop up telling me so Every. Single. Time. I Click. On. A. Page. When I clicked Dismiss the first time, I meant it. Bugger off Blogger. FFS.

WonderMan cost me more money than I made last month. This is what in financial terms is called a liability and should be culled. The banker in me is nodding her head vigorously. So is the shoe shopper who has worked herself into the ground for the last four weeks. I am so damn over working for nothing. FFS.

I'm getting the guilt trip from SuperGranny for sending Tiger to her house sick. 

1) She wasn't sick when I sent her. 

2) SG would have ripped my head off if I thought she was sick and cancelled her trip.

 I cannot win. FFS.

Tiger's school photos came back and she's making a face or chewing her lip or something. Surely they can fucking take a second fucking picture?? Especially when charging $50 for the privilege of having unusable pictures. FFS.

I am three weeks away from a month with no work. Being a temp sucks big hairy fucking balls. FFS.

I said something on an online forum and now the paper wants to do a story on our family, including photo. To say I am slightly freaking out is a lie. I am terrified. FFS.

I could not remember writing it at all, and had to print out the discussion so I have some idea what I'm supposed to say. FFS.

We have to wait for TEN payment summaries before we can do our tax this year. I forsee completion of said tax return sometime in the year 2020. FFS.

The $100 light on the turtle tank has stopped working. FFS.

It got so cold last night the ducting wouldn't work and the gas heater starter stopped sparking. FFS.

Frog got into my bed in the middle of the night and put her freezing cold icicle feet on my legs and her icy hands around my neck for a cuddle. FFS.

 I haven't been blogging or hanging around Twitter too much because I spend my days perpetually angry and about to lose my shit. Right now when I need you all the most, I can't trust myself not to explode and shower you in my bullshit life. FFS.

Please send rainbows and unicorn farts by express post.

 

For Fuck's Sake Friday!

Hellooooooo Friday!

It's been a freaking long week.... so here's a big internets *wave* to Dear Baby G who caught my eye with her first ever FFS Friday, and has allowed us to join in once we bribed her with the promise of sharing a bar space in March. 

There is never a shortage of things that cause me to  scream like a banshee mutter "FFS..."

Some random ones this week include:

WonderMan came home for the weekend AFTER I had mowed all the lawns. FFS.

He also brought TWO bags of washing with him. FFS.

He bugged me about that washing for two days when I had my own washing to do. FFS.

After he left I found all his weekend clothes in the laundry basket. He will no doubt ring me in a week wanting his shorts and stuff so he can play cricket or GO TO THE PUB because it's raining or something. FFS.

I had to go to dance practice on Sunday, and he promised to get up early so I wouldn't miss pancake breakfast. He didn't. FFS.

Frog ate all my Subway macadamia cookies that I brought back after dance, and I had to eat raspberry. FFS. 

The World Championship Speedway Sidecar titles are on this weekend... and I am broke as usual. FFS.

    After many weeks of feeling like I'm about to come down with a cold, I felt better yesterday and today I KNOW I have a cold. FFS.

After spending the last couple of years battling against the financial tide, and managing to come out the other side on a good footing.... TELSTRA handed on a bill I have been paying off regularly, with no reminder notice and no warning, to the debt collectors and officially fucked my credit rating, just as we are starting to get somewhere. BASTARDS. FFS.

 I have been booked up for work only on the days I have no childcare for Frog. FFS!

 

Go on, link up, let it out, it's cheaper than MOFO therapy!

For Fucks Sake Friday!

Kudos goes to Dear Baby G, whose invention of FFSFriday is, as she so eloquently puts it, "cheaper than MOFO therapy"

Sit back and enjoy the ride.

We went away on the weekend, and two hours into the trip I got a phone call about something I knew needed to happen, but which was horrible anyway. Way to ruin a weekend. FFS.

I had to pick WonderMan up part way along the drive and even though I stopped for an entire twenty seconds, Frog woke up and instead of going back to sleep, she annoyed Tiger and they fought and whined for the next two and a half hours. FFS.

I did a super quick run through at Maccas to get the kids some Smurfy, Happy Meal "lets stop fighting now" goodness, and grabbed something to keep me from fainting away. They BURNT MY FRIES. FFS.

The map app on WonderMan's iPhone took us a different way to last time, so we got lost within the last 500m of the trip. Including a fascinating circuitous route around Yatala Labour Prison. Interesting, but still... FFS.

I discovered I have become a super lightweight drinker and one glass of fruity beer made my head swim. I need some serious training so I don't fall over embarrassingly at DPCON12 in March, but I probably will anyway... FFS.

I forgot to go to the Typo shop when I was at Harbour Town. Like, where did my brain go? FFS.

As we prepared to drive home from our weekend, I got a phone call to say $1000 dog had decided to crap inside overnight, and instead of on the tiles, in the kids CARPETED bedrooms where he has never gone before. FFS.

Inspection of site revealed we had a prowler that night and dog had been going spastic while walking in aforementioned crap. FFS.

Two Kirby shampoos later and they are only just smelling like bedrooms again. FFS.

I had a rental inspection Wednesday. I went through half a bottle of Febreeze that morning... FFS.

WonderMan wiped the frypan with my brand fucking new Ikea teatowels. Which are now ruined. I have plunged them into a soaking bucket in the hope I may be able to salvage them but cream fabric with big, smudgy, oily stains do not mix. FFS.

I didn't know until this morning so the stains have had all night to set. FFS.

I only discovered it when I went to wash two days of dishes that WonderMan has been "forgetting", even though he would need a forklift to clear enough space to make his lunch in the mornings. FFS.

When I lost my shit about him wrecking everything nice that we have (which he DOES btw, especially if I am said owner....) he responded with "What's your problem? Shit you're moody, have you got your period?"

F. F. S.

What gave you the shits this week?

PS. I have a husband for sale. 

Or giveaway. 

Shit, right now I would pay you to take him away.

For Fucks Sake Friday!

Oh yes indeedy, it is Friday, which means linking up with the gorgeous Dear Baby G for the newest highlight of my week (yep, I'm that lame) FFS Friday!

Sooo... what could possibly have given me the shits more than last week?

WELL... sit back and enjoy...

Mum picked up Tiger for a sleepover Sunday night, and within an hour had to call me to pick her up because The Bitch was behaving so badly she had made them all cry, including my beautiful girl. My rage knows NO BOUNDS.

FFS.

Frog has hit the next stage of being stuck between 2 and 3, by screaming like a banshee at regular intervals all. day. long.

FFS.

Frog has also decided that henceforth she will be referred to as "SuperGiggle!" which would be fine except she has stolen my very expensive and quite favourite scarf to be her cape, and refuses to take my offer of trade for a tea towel.

FFS.

WonderMan has been promising to wash and vacuum the car for weeks now so yesterday I took the car to the carwash and paid up so I could make it all clean and sparkly. Then I came home and removed half the contents of my children's bedrooms. Then I vacuumed. At which point WonderMan and his boss appeared home from work and as I was vacuuming the last square inch of the car, he said "Would you like me to do that for you?"

FFS.

After ringing me twice yesterday to give me the rundown on how his plan for our trip was going to go, including packing his bag as soon as he got home from work, the King of the Procrastinators (aka WM) was ten minutes away from being picked up this morning when he took his life into his own hands and said "You will pack a bag for me today won't you?"

(FYI - I gave him a firm no, much of which rhymed with truck...)

FFS.

I bought the cutest pair of earrings ever, little roses in teal blue, and after one whole day of wearing them my earlobes are now all red, puffy and crusty.

FFS.

After congratulating myself for the fabulous way I was looking after my skin, and having a completely pimple free period, I woke up yesterday with a post-menstrual breakout that rivals some of my worst teenage years.

F.  F.  S.

While attempting to limit breakout damage I may have found a wrinkle.

FFS KILL ME NOW.

If you need me this weekend I will be shopping. I may tweet you in between shops when I come up for air and wine.

If you miss me, pop over to visit Dear Baby G who started all this FFS palaver and who probably feels MUCH better now she has read this, no?

And don't forget to visit Parental Parody who has generously saved a place for me by her side at DPCON12, and whose wine cask handbag I doth covet.

Also linked with the always gorgeous Glowless for Flog Yo Blog Friday. Because I'm a blog flogging whore like that.

Peace out xx

For Fucks Sake Friday

All bow at the fount of genius that is Dear Baby G, for she hath declared it "For Fucks Sake Friday".

Hell. Yeah.

What has given me the shits this week?

Well....

I've been at work while the bosses went away, and everything.... I mean EVERYTHING went wrong from the second they left, which was when I walked in.

The barcode printer has a fit. So we couldn't clear the magazines except in very. small. batches. at. an. excruciatingly. slow. pace.

This held up all the boxes of new stock waiting to be invoiced into the system and barcoded.

Which meant the job I was going to finish on day 2 was finally done at the last second on day 6, literally slapping on barcode stickers before i walked out the door at 6pm. I am completely exhausted. FFS.

During my 6 days at work nothing has been done by a single other person in this household. FFS.

Including the days that WonderMan was at home with or without the kids. FFS.

I got so exhausted I was almost passing out by lunchtime, but when I went to bed the nightmares started. The horrifying, my children have been murdered kind of nightmares. They terrified me so much it scares me to go to sleep. FFS.

When I do finally sleep Frog has screaming fits in her half asleep half awake state at 2am about her blanket and how it is not exactly right, and she wants it on and off at the same time. Screaming as in the neighbours probably think I am torturing her, and I can't get her to stop despite soothing, cuddling and outright bribery. FFS.

Frog is two and a half. She has the stubborness of a mule with PMS and the attitude of a teenager. I have to literally fight her to get her clothes on. When I have to be at work at 8:30am this gets old very quickly. FFS.

WonderMan very pointedly demanded "Can you do some washing today so I can have some clean underwear?" As If getting up at 6am, wrangling kids, working nine hours, picking up kids, making dinner, doing housework and washing clothes, feeding bathing and putting kids to bed, working and housework until 11pm every night meant I had not been doing anything. FFS.

When I trawled through the mountain of washing that was threatening to swallow $1000 dog, I found ONE, yes ONE, pair of his underwear. The rest were neatly folded in the pile in the hallway as they have been for the last MILLION years. Waiting to be put away as they are meant to be each week. And he couldn't find them. FFS.

Despite being home WonderMan did not take $1000 dog to his vet appt and has been waiting ALL WEEK for ME to reschedule it. Because he can't pick up the phone. FFS.

This is what I got from my mother as a souvenir from the trip I planned to take her on but she took without me.

It's a Chinese cup from the Chinese Museum in Bendigo. NOT even the souvenir picture book from the White Wedding Dress exhibition I so desperately wanted to see, and which she couldn't take photos of. FFS.

I had to sit through 200+ photos of the REST of the trip. And be suitably entusiastic because no-one else cares and I, stupidly, feel bad that Dad and The Bitch are such anal assholes. FFS.

WonderMan has to work tomorrow and I can't go to Adelaide and see my cousin and her beautiful children and go to Ikea for dinner with them. And take my cousin shopping. And did I mention Ikea? FFS.

It's Friday and I have no parties to go to, no friends to drop round and drink wine with, and even if I did, my house is a mess, I'm a mess and I don't have a babysitter. FFS.

Thanks for letting me rant Dear Baby G. Visit her. She is awesome. I only just discovered her blog. It was like adding a rainbow to my life. Serial. xxxx