Things that shit me..#18

Things that shit me…

People who don’t know how to self-isolate!


I had to go to a chemist today within a homemaker centre, and get an ‘essential item’ (note, ‘essential item’) that I could not find at my normal chemist while out doing our ‘necessary’ grocery shop yesterday.

I was baffled at the number of cars parked within this huge centre. Sure, there is an Aldi at one end and they are considered an essential shop… but what about the rest of the HUGE centre?

What about the people heading in and out of Harvey Norman, looking at TVs, kettles and entertainment units?

What about the people walking into Oz Design Furniture for a new lounge room rug or bookcase, enticed by the ‘30% off’ signs plastered all over store windows?

What about the men going to BCF, Boating Camping Fishing? What do you need, a new freaking fishing rod?


To buy a new TV for your second room?

To buy a fancy designer rug for the bullshit room no one is allowed to step into?

To get a new khaki-coloured kayak? To sail out on from this insane mess of isolation and coronavirus?

As one of my favourite comedians Sebastian Maniscalco would say…

“Where are you going???”

Oh. My. God. 

I can somehow, ever so slightly understand stores like Target, or Bunnings being open. Only slightly. Cafes, more so. They are small businesses and can provide essential services (i.e food and life saving caffeine) for takeaway.

They are SO necessary.

That is fine, that is vital. Stay the f&%^ away from other people, and no complaints from me.

Bunnings, Target… hmmm. Okay. You probably don’t need to buy some new plants, or get a new blind for the spare room, or start re-painting your house in muted charcoal…

But it’s saving you. Your sanity. It’s giving you purpose right?

Keeping you from going cuckoo.

Just as for some reason. buying stuff from Target (I assume affordable clothes, endless toys and $4 beach mugs) is keeping you sane in SOME WAY.

But a stereo system? A portable projector? A gypsy print for the hallway?


Why are people so incapable of listening to the rules? To adhering to social standards during this crazy time where people all over the world have DIED, are DYING and will continue to DIE until people really listen.

Why are people not taking this seriously?

Why are people risking their, and others lives?

There are so many of us going without, and we do it without complaint, without argument, without any kind of fight.

We don’t see our elderly parents who have no visitors at all to keep them company…

We keep our young children inside who are struggling to cope without the usual social activity they are used to for their youthful bodies…

And we reside ourselves in the walls of our homes, day after day after night after night after day INDEFINITELY, and we do it because we have to.


People had to go to war and die. You can sit on your God-damn couch and Netflix.

You have the whole world at your fingertips! Hell you can bring museums, concerts, even the zoo into your home!


You know who these people are? These are the self-entitled bunch who think the rules somehow don’t apply to them. They are used to the convenient, immediacy and luxury of life in the 21st century, and therefore they are beneath listening to any rules.

To staying inside.

To believing there is a problem.

To accepting, that it might happen to them… or anyone they know.

Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance can kill in this situation.

Just stay home. That is all.


Rant over.

smartphone on an open book

Photo by ready made on



Things that shit me… #14

…People who ask you unreasonable questions that you will undoubtedly give a negative answer to, making you feel like a total effin failure in the process.


“Have you made a Christmas tree-shaped watermelon with your daughter yet?”

Nope, I’m a shit Mum. Not carving up fruit together makes all of my Mothering useless.


(Pointing to a clearly Masterchef-styled ice cream cake) “Did you make that?”

Nope, I bought it AT A SHOP. I’m a cop-out for not spending 12 hours of my day sweating it out in the kitchen, layering different textures together and freezing them individually, to bring you the absurdly Heston Blumenthal-style design in front of me.


“Please don’t go to any effort for us.”

Actually, I wasn’t going to, but your passive aggressive request makes me feel like an unhospitable tool for not even considering giving you a 7-course degustation meal in the first place.


Photo by Lily Lvnatikk on Unsplash

“Can I have some salt?”

Apologies my food tastes like shit.


Photo by Mira Bozhko on Unsplash

“Wow, that is so good of you to do that, I never would have expected it!”

Because I am a horrible, HORRIBLE person.


Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

You: “What would you like to drink?”

(Asks for a specific drink that you will not have)

Sorry I am not Dan Murphy’s. But I will give you a good dose of scotch, coke, and a refreshing lemon wedge of swift kick-up-the-arse…


Photo by Eaters Collective on Unsplash





19 degrees in Winter… “Ahh nice, bring it on Spring.”

19 degrees in Summer… “What the?! What is this stupid excuse of a season?”


Waking up healthy… “Eh, another day.”

Waking up sick… “I can’t wait to feel good again.”


Dealing with a whinging baby… “Stop crying! You are so annoying, I can’t handle it!”

A childless woman wanting a baby, watching a whinging baby… “What I would give to hold one of my own…”


Going into work… “I hate work.”

Not having a job to go to… “My work wasn’t too bad.”


Feeling overwhelmed by food after a banquet sitting… “I couldn’t eat another thing!”

A starving child in a third-world country feeling overwhelmed by the lack of food… “If only I could find a crumb.”


These are trivialities, first world-problems, serious problems, and for us privileged, most are perspective.

Getting consumed by the nonsense of everyday life is both easy yet unnecessary, and can be overcome when you ask yourself “Is there worse out there? How bad is this scenario?”

There are many, many serious problems and issues out in the world. But how much easier would it be to deal with those things when we removed the silly nonsense from everyday life, enjoyed more of what’s around us, and appreciated what we have?

Showing gratitude for simple things every day, is a very easy way to turn your perspective around, and bring more joy, more happiness, more abundance, and generally more of what you want, into your life EVERY DAY. I know this, because earlier this year I started my own online gratitude journey… inspired by a car crash.

If you would like to check it out, or find some inspiration for your own journey, or you just want to see how I can possibly be grateful that I went back to work after time off (my most recent post), you can click here.

If you are reading this, that means you have survived every single bad thing that has ever happened in your life. Wow, are you a superhero?!

Remember, SMILE. It’s all good 🙂

SmikG’s got her balls back

Because for a while, I seemed to have lost them.

To explain, and make a short story even shorter, I’m in the midst of a HUGE photo inventory where I’m collecting all matter of photos from all matter of devices from the past couple of years, and printing them out to organise into photo albums. Yes, I still DO photo albums.

So I remembered I had a couple of photos on my facebook account that weren’t mine, uploaded by my family and friends, and so I went searching, one night earlier this week, through the years of 2012, 2013, and now, to find them.

What I found was astonishing. My journey had been for one thing, yet in the midst of it all, I had somehow accidentally though very appropriately discovered something completely different. Apt. I found that I once, had gusto. Guts. A loud voice. An opinion.

Balls, as such.

In amongst photos, and check-ins, and posters friends and family were putting up on my wall, I was looking at my past status updates… and wow. I actually had completely forgotten that I used to write like that. That that’s how I put my feelings and my thoughts out. A lot of it was just “BLAH!” An outburst, a sudden feeling that I clearly just hit ‘post’ on and let the world see what I was feeling at the time, with no censorship.

It was almost like reading about another person’s life. Reading these status updates, I was amazed, embarrassed and proud all at different times. Most of all, I was inspired. I was like ‘damn it! I wanna get back to that place.’

Without realising it, all this time I had lost it. I thought back to how, and why, and when it was that things changed. I think it was a combination of things. We’ve had life, we’ve had death, blah, blah – without trivialising any of those important life changes, I think those were some major factors that affected my habits. I got personal, secretive, and not willing to let the world, just ‘anyone’ into our private, intimate world of troubles, fears, hopes and joys. The world and all of its hurts and happiness,’ made me just a little withdrawn, just a little scared, of EVERYTHING. Both fear, and love, made me go into myself. Both of those emotions can make you feel so much.

That, along with the addition of some of my annoying facebook ‘friends’ posting shit like

“my 175 month old is just so cute today, I can just squash him!” (constant annoying posts about child and updates on them every 45 minutes)

“I am just so upset, I wanna die.” (attention seeker alert)

“I just went to the front door, and found a parcel waiting for me!” (grasping at straws, why are you posting vague bullshit?)

“my husband is just the best, I love him soooo much! (hiding the fact of marital woes)

(And then there are those that post 280 photos of their child’s first days in this world, which made me want to quite frankly NEVER upload photos of my baby girl).

All this pretense, and lying, and just whole lotta BS drove me right up the wall, and made me want to never in any way be like THEM.

(Life’s purpose: do not be a sheep).

I’m thinking now though, I can still be myself. I’ll never be like them, because I have more self-awareness. And yes, some may even say that blogging is also a pretense. However I think the blogging world, from what I’ve experienced of it anyway, is a lot more deeper than the superficiality and “look at me relaxing by the pool on the island getaway trip-of-a-lifetime holiday” showing-off that occurs on facebook, the bragging that often covers up things we never learn about.

I think of it in relation to myself. I have put up photos of myself, with Hubbie, with baby girl. And although everything looks great and all ideal in the photos, no one can see, no one knows of the background story: how for example, before we took that photo out during lunch on that gorgeous perfect Sunday, baby girl was cracking it at home because she was tired. I look good in the photos, but no one knows I was in my pyjamas ‘til 11:30am because I was doing dishes, rinsing washing, and kept changing baby girl’s nappy because she kept filling it up. We look refreshed, but that’s because we had coffee, and no one knows how she’s been getting up at night, and how it takes me 5 minutes just to creep out of her room at night and close the door quietly, in fear that any noise will wake her up and I’ll have to do the whole thing all over again – and that’s just the leaving the room part. Don’t ask me how I get her to sleep. We look put-together in that photo, but seriously, you should see our house, when we’re NOT expecting visitors. And I’m smiling, but you don’t want to enter my mind and hear the demons I’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks, the internal to and froes that’s made me seriously consider seeing a psychologist.

All of this, is not often spoken of. On facebook, certainly not. In the blogging world however, refreshingly it is.

I’ve diverged a bit. All in all, I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of being quiet. I’ve had enough of letting other’s crap affect the way I live my life. I’m coming out, in the most fantastic fashion, and I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone says anymore.

If I cause trouble, then so bloody be it. Better out than in.

The balls they are a swaying.

It’s a weighty issue

I may not be very popular after this post – much like the rich man who cries poor – but, as I try so hard and so often NOT to say in blog-land, FUCK IT.

So, people who read this blog often, and all of my family and friends, will be very aware that I am now a mother. Almost 14 months on, and she is the best thing, the most amazing blessing, that has ever happened to Hubbie and I.

I’m very grateful, for a lot of things post-pregnancy. I’m grateful that we are starting to see her pull herself up, we’re grateful in hearing her babble and try to talk, I’m grateful that we’re becoming more social and heading out more… and I’m also grateful that my body has returned to its pre-pregnancy size. In fact, it did so pretty soon after having her.

That’s just the way my body is. I’m not going to act all proud, because I didn’t do anything for it. It did it, itself.

And that’s the thing. I’m so bloody sick of people, looking at me, and commenting on my body. Often it comes from a genuinely surprised/complimentary place “how did you have a baby?” or “it looks like you never had one!”

I don’t know how to respond to these remarks, though kind, other than to smile and laugh. What do I say? Sometimes I say thanks, other times I mumble something, or direct it back to the person and say that they too look amazing after having kids – which is not a lie, I won’t say it unless I mean it.

But then there are this other lot, who comment on me being so skinny, to the point that they’re not being complimentary, not a bit, not a little, nothing at all – but instead their words come off jealous, biting, and snide.

They look you up and down and all they say is “you’re too skinny.”

Or as you walk to the lunch buffet they comment with a smirk “oh, you’re eating?”

And then when they say their goodbyes they tell you to “eat more” with a laugh.

These are people within my family.

Are you fucking for real????

(Deep breath, for my rebuttal).

Not that I have to explain, ANYTHING to ANYBODY, but:
– I am about the same size I was before pregnancy. No one was shitty about my weight then. Why are people all up in a huff now that I’ve had a baby? Am I meant to have handlebars and be overweight to be acceptable?
– I eat whatever I like. Some days I am truly rushed, but make no mistake I make up for it, every chance I get, especially on weekends.
– I like to wear fitted clothes, and I always have. This seems to be an affront to these vindictive people now. I wore baggy, trackie, homely clothes for about a year, and I remember the first time I put on make-up and got really dressed up which was about 7 weeks after baby girl was born, I felt re-born. Like a new woman.
I wore those baggy clothes for so long, there are some I’ve actually now thrown out. I want to move on, and go back to the way I always used to dress, because that’s me. I like to dress up, make myself up, as it makes me feel good. I do it for me, not for anybody else, and I shouldn’t have to feel bad or apologise for wanting to make myself look good and consequently feel good.
– Is it considered morally right to stare at a person you think is too fat and say to them “gee, you are too fat” “stop eating” and “what are you doing to yourself?” People wouldn’t dream of actually saying that to an overweight person, so why is it deemed ok if the person is skinny? No person’s body should be judged, even if that judgment is veiled in a pretend compliment ( ”she won’t get upset, I’m saying she’s skinny”)

I am absolutely sick to my core of these judgments. It’s really annoying, as it is hurtful. No one should be subjected to remarks like these, least of all women, who are already to susceptible to media and societal pressure to look a certain way, especially women who have had children. Your body goes through so many physical and other-worldly changes, that to then scrutinise that woman’s body after she’s put on weight for carrying a baby, to then losing it (or trying to) and feeling so many different emotions and feelings and thoughts of “how do I look?” “am I good enough?” “will my husband still find me attractive?” – women’s own private thoughts about themselves are well enough without the added inspection of people who think it is their duty to inform others if they’re adequately sized. The number of times I asked my husband what he thought of my body post-pregnancy I cannot even begin to count. I know I’m skinny. That’s my body type, I’ve always been that way. I never wanted to look unwell, or sick, which is why I’d ask “am I too skinny?” I was breastfeeding for over a year, and that equals your baby depleting your stores in many, many different ways. Hubbie would always say “no,” and he continues to. I know I already know the answer, but it’s annoying people who think it’s their right to pass judgment, that unfortunately, make me question myself.

But no more, mother fuckers. Keep your stupid thoughts to yourself. Because your head is too big and your nose is too pointy.


Last night I was sitting on the couch in my pjs, feeling cold. I looked at the throw that usually sits slung over the middle of the couch when I’m trying to make it look pretty, or spread out in a lump when Hubbie is done getting himself warm, and wondered, ‘why don’t I use it?’

I hate bullshit. When we were looking at building, many, many years ago, we got so skilled at display house-hunting, that within seconds of entering a home we’d look into the first or second room from entry and say “bullshit room,” and make a quick exit.

We didn’t want a bullshit room. One of those rooms that sits there, insanely decorated, with pristine unused furniture, untouched carpet, and a sickly-clean smell finish. We wanted all the rooms, in our then searched-for home, to be used. We didn’t want a scared-to-breathe upon space.

I looked at this throw, used by everyone (even our guests, family and friends) but me, and wrapped it tightly around me as I stretched out on the couch. It was so nice and warm and snuggly, that I seriously had to ask myself if I’d been bonkers not using it this Winter as much as I should have.

Then came time for sleep. I was so comfortable on the couch, rugged up by said-upon throw, that I could have quite easily let myself doze off there. Going up the stairs seemed such a task, and then brushing my teeth… it all seemed too hard. However the object of my desire, Bed, loomed welcomingly in my mind, and I trudged up the stairs.

It was while brushing my teeth that I thought to myself: ‘Bed is always looked forward to. Bed is something loved by so many…’

And then of course the next rational thought that entered my mind was –

‘If I had to come back as an inanimate object in another life, I would choose to be a Bed.’

As you do.

I thought ‘had to,’ because I think most people would rather come back as a live being, be it human or animal, rather than a rigid piece of furniture. But even some people and animals don’t get the type of love bestowed upon them like the good ol’ faithful Bed does.

Let’s contemplate.

At the end of the day, we all look forward to bed. When you’re really tired, and you get to bed, I don’t know about you but I do that snuggling thing into my pillow, making that “hmmm mmmm” noise where I’m trying my best to imbed my face into it and wriggle my body into the mattress.

Bed is soothing. When you’re sick, or grumpy or upset, you usually head there. You head there for time out. In the morning when you wake up, you don’t want to leave Bed. The love and loyalty one holds for their bed is unparalleled to any other inanimate object.

Bed does take a thumping at times… but it’s a good thumping, and if you think about it, it’s almost like Bed’s exercise, so that it doesn’t get too rigid and stiff in its constant state. It’s a place of comfort, rest, pleasure and time out.

The only exception to this love for the Bed are kids. Babies and children, AT TIMES, are probably the only ones that don’t appreciate Bed so much. Don’t get me wrong, there are those who sleep, as the thwarted saying goes ‘like a baby,’ but if you think of the first early months (sometimes years God forbid) of a child’s life, waking up every couple of hours, sometimes wetting the bed, other times being sick and vomiting, and then for older kids just defying the idea of sleep in the first place, Bed doesn’t really seem so regarded amongst the very young.

But then again, you can be an over-rambunctious hung-over adult following a night out and fall into the peeing, vomiting and waking every couple of hours category too.

However most of the time, these weak-bladdered, sick and sleep-delinquent children grow out of their bad habits, and grow to love the Bed, as we do.

Bed. The place of magic. Magic inanimate.