Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
The first thing I remembered as I arose from another hazy, alcohol-fuelled night full of laughter and love and lashings of luck that I even made it back to my bed, was that beige stone wall.
Where was it?
And why was I wearing a bow on my arm?
The Japanese have a saying: “If your mind is black, then so is your soul.”
My soul was feeling like fucking tar.
After all those French kisses and wild, fat cigars, I could hear hell’s gates creaking open, with The Devil himself laughing at how easy embracing me into his evil arms was.
Originally this was going to be a good night; catching up with old friends who refused to act anything but – and why should they?
After I picked up the pieces of smashed, special-priced Kmart crappy plates he got me for Christmas, The Bull inside me’s horns had finally fallen – and the hours ahead all wore red.
It was brilliant.
Galloping through side streets, hopping in and out of bars and picking up whoever wanted to join this wild journey on the way.
A whole week of working shit, picking up other people’s shit, listening to everything except what my ears want to hear.
Is life what you thought it would be?
It was for just these few hours, where minutes turned into seconds and smiles seemed like they would last forever.
Ice stung my top right eyebrow as the cool water gushed down my throat.
It was still a desert in there – and the kids crying hit me harder over the head than the hangover.
I could hear the raindrops on my window tapping as a reminder to breathe.
In-out-stop-start.
As I lay next to those dusted self-help books, sleeping tablets and mouldy eye-mask, I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d be next in the news.
He always swore he’d never hit in front of the kids – which showed there was some self-control, and somehow made me feel in control.
….
I find people who can’t control their bladder infuriating – such as me.
I’m constantly needing to go to the toilet, particularly since pushing out those small potato humans called children.
The entire area has just turned to mush – like an ol fella walkin down the street and he just casually lets one rip.
It just falls out.
I heard a granny just tear one out the other day – no apology, no shame – no acknowledgment, no movement at all.
Like it didn’t even happen.
I want to be that woman.
I want to see Kim Kardashian letting a full one rip – the same way her stomach is ripped and to give Woman’s Day a real front cover story that’ll guarantee clickbait.
“Kim Kardashian’s new diet – she simply pees her pants every time she jumps rope at the gym and farts into a bottle every time she sneezes [now on sale at Priceline for just farty9.99]. Eeewwww Eau De FartyPants.
I was in Woolies the other day and the chick at the counter had a full beard. The guy she was serving did too so it really made me feel like we’re finally living in an equal society.
So I’ve decided to stop shaving mine.
Seriously, they just appear.
Little beard bastards.
I’m sure every fkn time Shane Warne loses a hair on his head, a woman somewhere grows 3 on her chin.
Women usually rush off at the first sign of this shit and spend $100s of $s trying to eradicate them, no matter what the pain.
And then while they’re at it – they think, fuck it why not stick a vacuum up my arse and get a colon cleanse? Take my credit card – and while you’re at it, every last little ounce of pride.
My hubby’s grand coz he can’t see the back of his head – but I’ve got to look at my beard every bloody day.
So I thought fk it – I’m gonna be a model on those hair loss ads, just so I can get it for free (that shit costs a lot).
I’ll be anyone’s science experiment if I can save a few cents.
When we fart at work, no-one acknowledges it – like we just carry on as if nothing happened – but inside we’re dying – we’re gagging – people are desperately trying to focus on the conversation but are actually thinking “What’s that fkn smell?!”
When men do it – their mates are like “Jesus mate, did you just fart? Fuck! And laugh their heads off. So ladies, I say be more man.
Embrace the hairs.
Let your bum run free and release your farts to the world – for they are the things that ultimately connects us as humans
(plus he really doesn’t give a hoot once he’s giving you a root).