Crikey Moses

I'm in pain. The kind of pain that should have subsided a while ago but is still there. Not that metaphysical heart ripped out kind of crap. I'm talking about the real shit, blood and guts and everything. Well no guts, considering it's my foot. But fuck me sideways, it's a nasty cut that happened in my haste to come out of the bathroom (childhood urge to run out before the toilet was fully flushed so as not to invoke anyone to come out at me and saaaay mutilate me?). I blame Hostel. I was watching it with Adonis who in his zeal refused to change the channel when achilles tendons were sliced and eyes were being blowtorched - "No look baby! Look! Oh bubba's scared. I'm gonna download Hostel 2". Yeah thanks. Naturally, me being me, I immediately started freaking out and being afraid and my mind association game kicked in as it does. Torture relates to Saw relates to that freaky doll relates to a myriad of fictional fuckers that are out to get me and slice me to bits.

A boy I once knew and have the vaguest recollection of once told me he loved me to bits. I do believe he had a dark side. I'm pretty sure he was quite the intense madman. Fuck, I can't go around making random allegations like that but meh, I do anyway. He was very stern and soulless in his judgements and had it coming anyway.

I be cooking tomorrow. I be Stepford Wife-ing it tomorrow for my sweet self. Yes Adonis in up (down?) in the land of Switzer being all corporate.

Obligatory Kath & Kim excerpt. If you don't know it, watch it. Aussie comedy:

"It's not easy being a corporate wife. You don't know what it's like being married to a successful man."
"Hello? What do you call this guy eating his yoghurt and muesli?"

Crikey moses, my fucking foot throbs. What have I fucking done to myself? Give me the fucking pills. Or give me Adonis as he lies here stroking my hair and kissing my head and calling me "bubba." Give me Adonis over everything else, anytime.

Laughing Wednesday

A bright start to the day. I open my eyes and there he is entangled, his hair soft like fur, his breathing steady like a little boy's. A few movements here and there and next thing I know he's up, eyes blinking at me that steady brownish-greenish light shining on me, trapping me in headlights.

A few Arabic words, maybe even a conversation:

"Tetkallam 3arabi?"
"Na3am. Anti?"
"Ee"
"Min ayna anti?"

A few more words here and there. Then I break into a grin, unable to control myself in the face of all this cuteness. For me, I think. He's learning it for me. I must have done something right to get this.

A few jokes cracked and I am in hysterics, I can't help it. He swears like an Egyptian woman, something involving a vagina and a mother. It is disturbing but oh so funny. His hands like spiders tickling me to keep it going. "You're so cute," he says and nothing could be farther from the truth. My eyes smudgy, my hair has a life of its own, my face looks a bit like a train wreck only not quite so fascinating. Cuddles abound.

I jump up, gallop to the front door. Maybe I got a package, my new book from Amazon. I gallop back. Nothing. I harumph my way to his arms again.

My mornings when he is here are perfect. My life when he is here is perfect. It's a Laughing Wednesday, a Chuckling Thursday, a Giggling Friday, a Chortling Saturday and a Snickering Sunday.

Until Monday when life becomes dreary again.