You know when you have one of those weeks when it feels like a whole fucking month has past but it really has only been 7 days?
I have had one of those.
Or maybe it has been 10 days? I really don’t even know any more I am so confuddled and confuzzled and all over the fucking shop that I am not even shocked any more even when the Uber Facts on Twitter are all ‘Did you know that some women can poop out of their vaginas?’ and I am all, ‘ok’.
That would suck though.
Unless you had really good fucking pelvic floor control.
Shit just falling out when you are in the line at Target.
Never go on a trampoline again, smacking kids in the head with a deuce.
So Maddie left for Sydney and I cried a metric fucktonne (or an imperial oompaloompa for all you crazy Americans. But not you, Dingo who stole my baby, you are still in the doghouse for now) and I still cannot believe she lives a million miles away from me now.
Shutthefuckup I am GRIEVING so I am allowed to exaggerate. And also allowed to then go to IKEA and spend the next two weeks grocery money on superfluous pretties including TWO chandeliers, a clock and various other shit that I can’t even remember.
We came home to find that Maddie left me a going away present of crap all over the place so I would be so pissed off at her I wouldn’t miss her so much. GOOD JOB MADDIE!
I have been working extra long hours to make up time so I can take the first week of school off help out, because after begging and fucking PLEADING for four months last year for a meeting to work this shit out, realisation finally set in for the teachers in the last motherfucking week that they might need some help with Boo. Fuck me dead, people… I get so tired of not being listened to.
So needless to say I am fucking TIRED. And sore. And a teeny weeny little bit motherfucking cranky.
Which brings me to Boo’s Disability Support Pension meeting with Centrelink.
So we get there. Nice and early. And Boo decides to got to the toilet, because Boo ALWAYS has to check out the facilities… and probably because we have got him out of bed and given him orange juice and Hungry Jacks breakfast to get him nice and hyped up.
Anyway, a chick comes out and calls him, early. Boo is still ‘using the facilities’ so I go up and beg her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD don’t tell the child that he can get a job, because he will want to leave school and if he leaves school then I will have to quit my job.
She looks me up and down and basically tells me she can’t guarantee anything. And I start mentally planning my prostitute outfit.
I already have the heels.
Boo wanders out of the toilet with something in his mouth.
Ponder, if you will, that for a moment.
We go into the interview and she asks Boo questions, which he answers in his Boo way (he knows who the Prime Minister is! MPS blames me yelling at the TV, I blame Tony for being such a dick) and then we are done.
The interview that was supposed to take an hour is done and dusted in less than 10 minutes. Only 5 of those are directed at Boo, the rest are us telling her things about him while he wanders off to find somewhere to lay down.
She said she had ‘a special interest in Autism’ and MPS and I tried REALLY FUCKING HARD to not roll our eyes so she could see, and then told us she was recommending he get the payment and we would hear about the decision in 3-4 weeks.
Because still MORE FUCKING PEOPLE have to decide. Because BOXES PEOPLE, WILL SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE BOXES!
Two minutes with the kid, with something in his mouth THAT HE FOUND IN THE PUBLIC FUCKING TOILETS AT CENTRELINK, a file that is 10cm thick and letters from four million doctors and the education dept are not enough for some fucking paper pusher in a cubicle to make their ‘decision’.
Wait. It gets better.
The next morning I get a call. His application has been APPROVED! HUZZAH!
But wait. There is a snag.
You know all those forms you lodged 3 months ago? Well, I sort of forgot to tell you that there was one missing.
The hundreds of people that have poured over this fucking application because no fucker could wrap their head around my dodecahedron boy did not notice that one of the forms were missing.
The one that lists his income and assets. So just fill out this 17 page form and ‘what you would get if you sold all of his things in his bedroom on ebay’ (direct quote) and we can get his payments sorted.
So his chewed up mattress, ewww, and random shit and the takeaway food wrappers that he can’t bear to throw away so we replace them with fresh ones and oh I best not forget that piece of plastic he found in the toilets of Centrelink… I am thinking SEVENTY FIVE MOTHERFUCKING CENTS.
Income and assets of a 16 year old, go suck a fart. MY GOD.
MOTY had her gall bladder out. Bitch going around like she was about to have open heart surgery OMG.
Apparently she has to have something done to one of her knees. I think she is going to expect me to take a year off work.
This is her actual wristband. Too noticed it.
Number of the beast. Apt.
How did I miss this? What? OMG. How. Even?
Binge watching and adoring every single second of it.
And I shall end on fabulousness. We finally paid off a horrible no good very bad high interest loan today and it was fucking AWESOME. Been chipping away for a while and it is motherfucking DONE.
How the fuck are YOU?