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one hundred

I hate to say it, but I miss hangovers.

I have no had an alcoholic drink since ANZAC day (and what a night that was  - a good one to temporarily end my drinking habits).

I miss the dryness in my mouth, I miss the headaches, I miss waking up with remnants of eye make-up still on my face (even though I use make-up remover wipes when I get home), I miss the gross feeling in my stomach, I miss trying to piece together the night before.

I just want to drink again, amongst other things.

I have a huge list of things to do once my back is all good and straight and not so painful.

1. organise night out with friends, a night involving lots of alcohol, and having a hangover the next day

2. get legs waxed

3. go shopping and buy a new dress

4. baking and cooking extravaganza - bake a thank you cake for my mum (Donna Hays chocolate layer cake - the gorgeous looking one on the cover of her 50th edition magazine), bake thank you peanut butter cupcakes for Scott for spending an evening in hospital with me, bake a thank you Mars Bar slice for Bec, just for being the first person to get me out of the house and making me excited, baking thank you chocolate m&m cookies for Rach, for spending an evening in hospital with me, and bringing me an awesome present. And just cooking as many dinners as possible. Oh how I miss cooking, even worse, watching Masterchef every night isn't doing any good for my not being able to stand long enough to cook.

5. go away somewhere. I was supposed to be in Adelaide this weekend with my family, but that is not possible. I'm thinking Byron Bay or Melbourne for a weekend. or even midweek, whichever is cheaper.

6. spend a day in Sydney. I miss Sydney. I've had to cancel two appointments in Sydney as I would not have lasted the train trip there. I miss Sydney. 

Thats all I can think of right now, but I do know there are a few other things on that list that I can't think of right now. Damn medications turning my brain into mush :(

"stop having so much rough sex"

With good comes bad. Or with bad comes good. I don't know, but my weekend was full of the bad, and the good.

The Bad 

- not being able to walk properly. I had to get my mum to take me to the bathroom whenever I needed to go. It's not something a 23yr old wants to go through. I've been through it as a 22yr old, and it wasn't something I wanted then.

- going to hospital on Sunday - I told my mum she could either keep helping me to the bathroom, or call an ambulance to take me to the hospital - only as we both knew she wouldn't have been able to get me down the stairs of our apartment building by herself.

So my called the ambulance, and they came pretty quick, and gave me some morphine, and helped me down the stairs, before getting me on the ambulance bed, and into the ambulance, before giving me more morphine. Once we got to hospital, I'm just glad I didn't have to wait forever to get a bed - which is always a bonus at my local hospital.

The Good

- pain relief - the morphine worked wonders. Sure I got lots of, and talked alot of shit (as I do when I'm full of such strong pain killers) After getting some tests done and spending a few hours in hospital, I was able to go home, and able to walk pretty well from my room in Emergency, out the Emergency waiting room.

- Getting to see Rach - it had been way to long since I last saw a friend. She was going to come round to visit me at my place, but when I told her I was in hospital, she caught the bus there instead, and visited me there. It was so good to finally talk to someone other than my mum and my GP. Best ever. And she bought me a presant. Rach gives me the best presants - her birthday is in October, so I have 5 months to think of an amazing presant to give to her - and hope she enjoys it.

- Getting a cute Doctor in the hospital. I love it when that happens. I'm getting fixed, while getting a perve. He was also really nice, which is even better, and explained my whole problem to me really well (aswell as being a doctor, he is also a pyhsio. And really cute and nice.)

- Being able to move around better. So I no longer need my mum to help me to the bathroom, which is awesome.

Now I'm just hoping I'm on the up and up of getting better. I can only hope.

right now I'm too depressed to write anything interesting.

as much as I want to, I can't.

this slipped disc in my back is really getting to me.

It's been two weeks of nothing.

I actually started crying trying to get yogurt out the fridge this morning.

right now, life sucks, but Im hoping it will get better. 

and the sooner it gets better, the better. Im really not enjoying this not being able to do anything, having to rely on everyone else to do things for me. my mum is even now pissed off at me, for reasons I don't know - most likely due to doing everything for me.

If I could stand up long enough to make myself toast without starting to cry, I would, but I can't.

here's hoping to posting something good next week.

fingers crossed. toes crossed. Im going to plait my hair so my hair can be crossed.

It's moth season

My cat is in heaven. She loves chowing down on these bogan moths - affectionately re-named flying cream puffs.

It's just not so great when I get woken up in the middle of the night by cat going moth hunting and chowing.

Also, my back - I was in hospital Saturday with killer back pain. Got a CT done today, with the results already, and one of my discs is bulged. I have no idea what this means, only that Im in alot of pain, have to take alot of Endone and Valium, and I will be needing physio. Just another thing to add to my compensation case, as it's a result from my walking with a limp. Awesome.

Back to the lounge I go, it's time for more Endone, and my afternoon nap.

i have the worst friends

Apparently I fell into the 'wrong crowd' at school when I was about 15. My mum didn't really like those friends of mine. I wagged school a few times, I smoked (and I used that term lightly), I got drunk, and I had sex. I stopped smoking, I stopped wagging school, and I started hanging out with the bunch of friends I was hanging out with before (while still occasionally talking to the "wrong crowd" friends).

If anything, I think the girl I called my best friend was more of the wrong crowd. And now she is seen as an important business women, and is in the local paper, calls herself some kind of feminist. I think she is a hypocrite. She is a stereotyping hypocrite, and if people knew her secrets...

She was the girl, who at 17, was calling male prostitutes, and meeting up with them for sex. In public places. Anal sex aswell. I would often get messages from her, asking that if her mum called my place, she was there, but just in the bathroom - she wasn't at my place - she off fucking one of her boyfriends. This happened multiple times. 

Just recently she was in the paper with three other business women from the area, who came with 10 ideas/solutions for making someone/something a better person/thing. One of them was not stereotype. I told this friend I wanted to take up pole dancing. She then proceeded to tell me she would stop talking to me if I started pole dancing, and gave me some lecture that pole dancing is just a form prostitution and its only done to turn men. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that stereotyping? (What's next? Someone is going to tell me ballet is only for anorexics?)

This is the same girl who had a go me, after walking past the lingerie section of Myer and said "oh, I really love that bra" (a really gorgeous floral/lace trimmed Elle Macpherson bra), saying that lingerie is only worn to men on/I shouldn't be wearing lingerie like that as it will make men think I want them to have sex with me - or something like that. Women can't wear something nice and beautiful to make themselves feel good? Not everything a woman wears is just for men. I wear underwear like that because I like it. If guys don't like my underwear, I couldn't give a fuck, as I wear what I think looks good, and if it's comfy, even better (I probably don't like the underwear men are wearing, but who cares?).

This girl was the bad influence on me. This girl put so much shit on me, and I only see it now. I hold so many of her secrets, she wanted me to lie to her mum for her, she was quite the raging slut in high school, constantly calling me after breaking up with boyfriends - asking for advice - not listening to a single thing I said, and getting back with the boyfriend a few days later, only to call me again a few months later, asking for the same advice, this which went on for five years till I finally lost it and told her she was an idiot and that he is an idiot, something about him being "suicidal", something about her "having to save his life". Seriously. WTF??? 

(Im not saying anything bad about anyone being suicidal - but I know the entire story - it was an over-emotional ex-boyfriend trying to get back with his ex-girlfriend after promising he was moving far away as he never wanted to see her face again. If I never wanted to see my ex-boyfriends face again, he would NOT be the first person I call if I were suicidal - even he were a psychiatrist.)

There's also two other girls, which we all hung out in  a group after high school - these other two girls are just are bad. So fucking ignorant. Apparently its cool to tell someone, repeatedly, to put themselves in a situation where they know they will have a panic attack. After I had stated, repeatedly "if I do that, I'm going to have a panic attack and I don't want to give myself a panic." She didn't care. Has she ever had a panic attack? No. Does she know what a panic attack feels like? No. It feels like you are going to die. Every single time. The feeling of death is not a good one, and not a feeling I want to give myself.

I never thought I would hate another single person as much as I hate my father. The day has come. And it's not one person, but three. Three ignorant, selfish, mean, rude, threatening, hypocritical, lying, judgemental bitches. I hope I never have to see any of their faces again.

half a million dollars???

My barrister told me yesterday that my compensation case is worth, in her opinion, half a million dollars.

WHAT DOES A 23 YR OLD DO WITH HALF A MILLION DOLLARS???

Not that NRMA are going to give me that much money, but knowing that Im worth that much makes me a little dizzy.

ps. I have a nerve that is missing in action. I would kind of like to know where it has gone.