The Wheel is Turning, but the Hamster is Dead header image 2

I’m not a complete idiot…parts of me are missing.

August 30th, 2010 · No Comments

Look, I know I haven’t written on here for a while.  I have been busy.  Doing stuff.  And after doing a lot of this stuff, I have realised that I seriously need to man up. 

Yes I know you have known this for a while.  No need to be pedantic now is there. It just took me a little while to realise.

To recap.  I live with….1 x wife.  1 x daughter.  2 x girl cats.  1 x boy cat who changed when I chopped off his nuts and it should now read 3 x girl cats.  the 1 wife is 9 months pregnant and about to drop daughter number 2 any day.  There just aint a lot of room for manly stuff in my life.

It’s been hell.  I have been in a pink fluffy girlie nightmare.   A list of my recent offences can be seen as:

My daughter, now 2 and has the raging 2isms going on has decided that for some inexplicable reason that I am the best person to constantly put her hair in pigtails.  Then she looks in the mirror, takes them out and asks me to do them again.  Over and over.  Rinse, repeat.  I tried using the words “Look…I am about as good at this as I am at being a man.  It’s just not working out for me.  Ask your mother to do it.  She has long hair.  Likes girl products.  Isn’t me.” but you know….she is 2.  She ain’t listening.  I know this because when she is bored of me putting her hair up, she decides to do my hair.  I am a semi-balding semi-overweight 35 year old.  And that little plastic brush fricken hurts as she scrapes 3 layers of skin off each time.  But the words “Holy CRAP!  OW!  Stop…no…Shawnee…not so hard…please….Wifey, can you go get me something for the blood?” just don’t seem to work well for me.

But you know, that isnt the reason I need to man up.  There is:

I have painted on more than 1 occassion, my wife’s toenails for her recently.  Although in my defence, she is now 9 months pregnant, going to drop with daughter number 2 any day now and I have to describe what her feet actually look like as she hasn’t seen them for a while.  She now thinks she has 6 toes and warts.  I understand her pain.   I have done some other stuff…but seriously…I cant tell you.  It isn’t something you want to relate me to.  I must admit though….my painting abilities are a little on the “Ahhhh…look….a small child drew a picture on the wall!”.  So her toes now look like a bird crapped on them from a great height.  Or I did.  I go enough recently…which we will get to shortly.

But even THAT isn’t all the reasons I need to man up.

I went to Toys ‘r Us recently.  I spent a lot of time around the aisle containing dolls.  No, it isn’t a fetish.  My daughter was turning 2, so apparently you are supposed to buy them presents.  In this case, the present we were looking for was doll related. As a side note.  I want to kill Noddy.  ALL you can hear in that goddamn shop is the Noddy song.  I hope he BURNS IN HELL!!!

But according to my wife, we need a doll that does, and is not limited to:

It has to have clothes that she can change.  That you can bath it.  That you can put a dummy in it’s mouth.  That poops.  That pee’s.  That doesn’t have those creepy eyes that stay open when you lay it down.  That you can feed.  That screams, cries and maybe even says varying words. That is a certain size so other people can buy stuff for it such as car seats, prams and the ability to drive me bloody insane with the list of things required.  IT’S A BLOODY DOLL!!!

I mean really…what the hell.  So we looked.  And looked.  And looked.  Nothing.  That one will crap for you on demand by squeezing it’s stomach (as do I…as an FYI should we ever meet and you decide to give me a big squeezy cuddle…) but it has those creepy eyes that don’t close (I had an ex like that).  And that one there has clothes you can change, but wont eat.  Nor will it take a dummy in it’s mouth.  This is mostly in part due to the fact it’s mouth is a closed rubber lump.  And no making comments relating me to being a rubber dummy thankyouverymuch.

I cant lie.  For a while, I was getting to a point where the only option for her was an adult sex doll.  Sexy Suzy looked like a goer.  By goer, I mean “Yeah look…fully functioning, you can stick your dummy in her mouth…and weirdly, she is like every woman I have ever been with.  That is eyes closed and straight to sleep the second I get them horizontal…usually just after eating all the food and drink I offer and pay for.  And won’t talk.

And then.  Then.  Out of nowhere…I found the ideal doll.  I didn’t see them restocking the shelf while walking past earlier, but there she was.  She didn’t have a name.  Actually, she was already out of the box.  So I took it and dropped it in to the trolley.  It worked…the thing cried.  Called for it’s Mum.  So at least I knew it was a worker.

How the hell was I to know that you cant take someone else’s child?  Typical.  So at this moment in time, my daughter is trying to work out what that orifice on Sexy Suzy is for.

But you know.  That isnt the one that makes me need to man up.  You know what it is?

For the last 3 weeks, I have realised that eeeeevery single time my daughter takes a crap…I go 10 minutes later.  Yes.  I am on the same goddamn pooing schedule as my 2 year old daughter.  Un-Friggin-Believable.  And the girl has days where she craps like a Great Dane…and I don’t mean Frederic Louis Norden.  I mean as in the dog.  I am pretty confident I went down a trouser size on Thursday last week.  I was practically dehydrated and felt a little weak at the knees.  She had a couple of days where she was a little constipated.  I walked around with my face in a grimace state desperately wanting her to go.  So I could.

Lets be honest…I am pretty full of shit.  You were all thinking it.  But there is a limit to the amount one man can go in a day…and I met that limit.

And any day now, daughter number 2 will be born.  What if I end up on her schedule too?  I mean really…have you seen how much they crap?  I fear for my life.

But that is enough about me.  As you may have noticed, I don’t quite post that often anymore.  This is in part due to the fact that I turned in to a woman, and in part due to some other factors such as I just turned in to a woman.  And until I turn back in to a man, I have no idea what is going to happen.  I am so confused.  I cant make my mind up, my driving ability has gone to hell and parallel parking???  Forget it!

So.  I have this for you: I think the title says it all.  Who is it?  What does he do?  Well…he is my neighbour (I didn’t say friend…coz you know…he wears these shorts when he runs, and I wouldn’t call anyone my friend who wears them) who started a blog when he heard I had one.  He also took up running and comes out with me.  Which he took up when he realised I do it.  He also cut the grass in his garden the other week.  Just after I did mine.  He also saw I was losing my hair…so I dunno…did he tear his out with his bare hands or did he use veet?  His blog is written in English.  As is mine.  You see what I am saying?  I am pretty sure he wants me to change my surname to Jones so he can continue to keep up with them.  But failing that, go read his stuff.  If you comment, tell him I want my bloody drill back.   The git.

Either way, I expect I will be back when Pocahontas is born.  Sure, her name isn’t going to be Pocahontas, that is her development name.

Tata!  Kiss kiss!  MWAH! xoxoxoxo


© 2010, Sy. All rights reserved.


Tags: General Madness