You asked. Yes you did.

Some of you biatches have been emailing me, or asking in the comments for updates on some of my posts.

And me, being the easily distracted chick that I am, basically forgets straight away.

So here you go my lovelies, the bloggers version of Propofol, the UPDATE POST!

(too early for MJ jokes?  Oh, my bad… cause I’m bad, I’m bad, you know it…)

So what happened with Moo and the unwashed jumper?  Did she contact her local Human Rights advisor?

The jumper was washed eventually.  When I was good and fucking ready, but it had to be washed cause it was a school jumper.   I did fart on it before I threw it on the floor of her bedroom though.  So I still win.

Who won the damn competition that you ran?

No-one.  Cause I suck.  But I will make it up to you.  Eventually.  Cause I suck.

Are you going to finish ‘Anatomy of a brain fart’ and update us on how you are going with the whole recuperation thing?  And what about that Marburg/Sports injury thing?

I will eventually get around to filling you guys in on what happened.  Even almost 4 months later I am not up to it.  The arm thing comes and goes but I can’t do a fucking thing about it cause of the whole brain fart thing.  My appointment with the neurologist is on July 20 (after 3 months of waiting) and hopefully we will get some answers then.  And I will let you know.  Maybe.

And the ninja!  What happened to Too after the whole forgery ninja stealing her clothes thing?

I know you would love to hear that the ninja stole her bedroom.  And when I told the chicks at work they were all DAMMIT WOMAN why didn’t you call us and we would have helped you.  But I was unable to rise to the occasion cause at that stage I was barely able to wipe my own freaking arse, let alone lug a loft bed out of her room.

So I did the next best thing.  I sat her down and told her how disappointed I was.  How I relied on her to tell me the truth.  I pulled the stroke card (what?  She started it!) and asked her how I was ever going to be able to trust her again.  And to please just go to her room cause just seeing her made me sad.

Two hours later she came out crying and apologised and was fucking devastated.

MUMMY FOR THE WIN!

(and yeah, I felt bad and told her what I had planned to do and she was all ‘you totally should have mum! That would have been awesome!’  And it would have been.)

As punishment I made her clean her room and then took her out and bought her a pair of these.

Fucking AWESOME Doc Martens

Poor child.  She should have the Dept of Childrens Services on speed-dial.  Or ask her sister to hit her up with the number of the local human rights activist.

So, whats the deal with MPS?  You were all ‘he is not here and living with my parents’ and then nothing.  And then you mention him in posts and on twitter and we are all WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WOMAN?

Yes, we separated.  It was for a month or so.  It was hard.  It was necessary.  He is back home and we are working through the issues.  Sorry, I am gunna plead Forrest Gump ‘that is all I have to say about that’.

Do your kids/family/friends read your blog?

My girls know about my blog, they tease me incessantly about it.  Until I buy something like fucking AWESOME Doc Martens or Christmas presents with the proceeds and then they are all ‘you rock the internetz mum’

Or words to that effect.

They tell me they don’t read it.  And if they do in secret, I bet they are washing their eyes out with bleach after the last post.  *snort*

Other than that, MPS is the only person IRL that knows about my blog.  And I like it that way.

Your workplace sounds horrific!  How are things going at work?  You work with some real arsehats.  Where do you work and can I come and visit you?

Work is work.  Everyone has their issues.  In reality I enjoy my job, but the good days don’t make for good blogging – I kicked arse and everyone thinks I am a GODDESS – that sort of thing.  If everyone was nice and awesome and shit I would be totally bored.

But no one really gets the whole internet thing.  Well those I work with anyway.  The other day I nearly busted a blood vessel cracking my shit up while writing a letter that stated ‘All your assets are vest in us’ and not ONE FUCKER got the reference.

(and if you don’t get it, I don’t think we can be friends anymore)

I am not telling you where I work.  But I am hugely important.  And I can bury you if I feel the need.  But apparently there are laws and shit preventing me from doing that.  Well, quickly anyway…

Can I have your address so I can send you stuff?

A few awesome people have sent me things in the mail that have made me squee in delight.  But I know them well enough to divulge my PO Box addy.  I am not giving you my address so you can peek through my windows.

Well not until I can get some decent sleepwear anyway…

Why don’t  you read my blog?

You see it is like this, I DO visit all your blogs.  I am subbed to everyone that comments here.  But I just haven’t had time to comment regularly what with the working and teenagers and Autism and cooking and sexing and being awesome and shit.

(literally shit peeps.  We have Boo on a trial of A2 milk.)

I love each and every one of you.  And I squeeeee when I see you comment.  And I have the perfect email reply in my head and all the good intentions in the world and then I suck.

So the short answer is, I DO read your blog.  And I will try and be better at commenting.  Now get off my fucking back already Ron!

If you got this far without needed CPR and a martini then I applaud you.  And I leave you with the fucking AWESOMENESS of Web Site Story.  Yeah, you have to click through.  But it is worth it.