Tomorrow is my nephews 5th birthday, therefore it is my 5th strokeaversary. HUZZAH for that, no brain fartage in 1825 days awesome, but today I have been having a lot of feels about things that I haven’t felt about in a LONG time and tears about things that I haven’t teared about in a long time and then Maddie went and posted a picture on twitter from 7 years ago and BAM my face fucking exploded because OMG JESUS FUCKING CHRIST that was when I had Whooping Cough and Glandular Fever and MPS was living somewhere else and Boo fell through the wall (hey! We only just got around to putting up pictures on that wall this weekend!) and every motherfucking thing was falling apart and I was just 2 fucking months out of my first damn stroke. And she had her first serious boyfriend and lalalalalalalalalalala NOT LISTENING.
But we did have a shiny new big screen TV, thanks Kevin 07. That was GOOD TIMES.
Mind your step. Don’t trip on my sarcasm all over the place. I really should learn to clean up after myself.
And just as my head was spinning like Regan Cosplay, a woman and a rather cute dog came to the door and Boo, as is his want, answered it in his underpants. And, as is the rather fucking FABULOUS timing of my life, this rather finely dressed woman and cute beagle puppy wanted to complain about the side fence and the six foot high blackberries that were growing behind the bushes and she has contacted the council and BLAH BLAH BLAH FUCK ME DEAD REALLY FUCK OFF is not what I said but OMG I would have totally punched her in the damn fabulously made up face if I had the energy to lift my stupid arms because did I mention that I am feeling like death today? Why bother really, it is every damn day and YAWN. I am bored with it all now too.
So now, instead of googling how to get rid of blackberries I am looking up dachshund breeders, because fuck it.. that puppy was cute.
P.S. How do you get rid of ‘eyesore’ ‘noxious weeds’ ‘6ft high’ motherfucking blackberries?
P.P.S. Should I get a cake for my Strokeaversary? Yeah, I totes should.
P.P.P.S. Still waiting for those fucking lottery numbers, peeps.