Who the fuck thought of moving? put your wanky hand up now?!! oh no, he can’t can he, he isn’t here is he…don’t worry he isn’t dead, he is coming back from Europe, so we have to pack all our stuff up from the turdy loo brush (pahaha!!) to my walking dead frame, fuck knows where that is going!!

My house now you can’t move for fucking boxes, I could quite easily home half of london’s homeless with these babies, somehow I have to squeeze a two bedroom house into a room….a ROOM: that’s the hostel room…no we haven’t made a horror movie room, it houses five kids every other weekend…great two sets of bunk beds and a single bed we’ve got to magically find room for, I mean wanky landlord it’s so easy to give someone to ‘just find’ storage for all this shit…no it’s fucking not! then their is our king size bed, WHERE do we finding the shitting room for that mother fucker is beyond me!! the mattress alone is the weight of about fifteen whales!!, then our table and a million chairs we’ve acquired, yeah we have room for all that in one room..wanky landlord.

I don’t mind moving back to the room it’s the only room that has felt like home for over two years, so its like a safety blanket for me in a way, I just wish I didn’t have all this shit now that I have to find homes for, at the rate I am going giving stuff away on facefuck we will only have a couple of boxes (that’s a joke btw, even giving away all the books, the five thousand mugs we had etc, we’ve still got shit tons to take)

Plus this weekend we have the brady bunch kids coming over, so that’s going to be fun trying to pack with ‘I still want that’ being taken back out…no you can’t take your fucking armbands you haven’t used for about three years (except to wear around the house over your chewie onesie), they can go in the bin, besides the blood isn’t going round that arm..pretty sure they are about two sizes too small.

FML, SML, PMSL, LOL…anything else?!!

Much Love V x


Life is precious

This weekend, like 9 weeks ago, reality came crashing down on me like a hurricane, I think my life is shit but it’s nothing compared to what I have witnessed in those short weeks.

Firstly at the start of December last year, we lost Jim’s cousin to suicide, in the most horrible way you could imagine and it’s broken his parents beyond repair, their beautiful son, gone for good and why? why did he feel his life wasn’t worth living? We don’t know the reasons why, we may never know but I know one thing, mental health is a fucker and wish as you might “I wish I saw the signs” etc, hindsight is a wonderful thing but hindsight won’t bring this human being back, it’s something that should never have happened, something we wish we could have prevented but we couldn’t, we didn’t and for that his parents will be in torture for the rest of their lives. This puts my shit life right to the back of the field, like we are talking in the fucking bushes. But one thing we can do from this is we can use the signs he was displaying, the words he was using, the techniques he was using to hide his problems and try and help others, if we can save one life from Richard’s death, we might not have been able to save him but if we can help another family not suffer the same pain we have then he won’t have died for nothing.

I never met Richard and I felt awful on the day of his funeral for crying with Jim, I have never wanted to take someones pain away from them as much as Jim and the rest of his family, how his brother, father and most importantly his mother had the strength to stand up and talk to everyone the way she did was heart wrenching, it was the day before Christmas Eve and usually around that time, the drinks are flowing and everyone is having a great time but that afternoon at the wake, drink was flowing and their was laughter but with so much sadness of what we had witnessed earlier that day. I had never been to a funeral that was standing room only, Richard was so loved, I hope he was looking down seeing everyone that came out for him, to say goodbye to this sweet young man. This family I have found myself, in the short space of time is amazing and so close I have never experienced anything like it, his parents will pull through because their is a fantastic support network around them and they can take away the fact they had 27 wonderful years with Richard, unlike the next thing that has summed up my life this past weekend….

In the past month campaign has been running in my hometown, to try and raise £250000 to save a little girl, whose only treatment was available in America, a whole community came together and raised well past what they needed, with more fundraisers organised but sadly, she passed away early Saturday morning, she was just two years old, she had diagnosis at just 16 months old with stage 4 neuroblastoma, ever since then little Flo had fought hard but sadly she just couldn’t do it anymore and her little body could take no more, again like Richard she is out of pain and hopefully dancing in the stars, Richard if you read this can you please look after Flo for when her parents can join her again? I know it’s a silly thing to ask on a blog that a dead person is never going to read but isn’t it a nice thought that these two troubled, pain free souls meeting and him looking after her, or taking her to where she needs to be? it makes me feel better thinking this.

So yeah, my shit life is nothing compared to these two families fighting pain every single fucking day, fuck mental health and fuck cancer.

Fly high the pair of you xx

If you need help or think someone needs help: http://www.mind.org.uk

To donate to Flo fight: https://www.facebook.com/Flosfight



Car Tax….Should have been easy!

Was it? was it fuck! It all started about a month ago, I got the ‘letter’ stating my car tax was ready to renew… Oh was it? I wasn’t aware the that I was going to be rinsed for over £250 for the privilege of driving on roads with fucking pot holes in!!!

So I decide a direct debit was the way forward for us, remember I am trying hard not to use the bank of mum and dad, I set the direct debit (this way it’s over £300!) to come out of my account, which was all well and good when I set it up, I was assured my bloody sales job was going to last longer than the two weeks trial (I was shit at sales, didn’t make one in two weeks, mind you who actually want’s palette wrap that hasn’t already got a supplier?!), I fill my car up with fuel using the rather useful ‘pay at pump’ method, even if you don’t have money in your account (as long as you have £1 you are fine) you can fill your car up to £99 worth of fuel, bellends whoever came up with that Idea!

A few days later I suddenly start to panic that I am not actually going to clear what I spent on fuel by the time the first payment comes out, so I call the DVLA up, I always love speaking the them as they are welsh and if Jim had a welsh accent I would be in absolute heaven! “cancel the direct debit” oh you can hear that lovely twang now can’t you, “use your log book to reset it back up again” so that’s what I did, assuming my log book was in my car that was currently having it’s MOT, get the car back, it’s nowhere to be fucking found!!! call them up again on the Monday and well, now it’s Thursday and I’ve only just got it sorted, this was after I looked like a complete blonde/ginge trying to find the fucking VIN number ‘to the right of the centre pillar at the base’…..erm no, it was on the fucking dash, I couldn’t see it because I am a short arse and their was a ticket in the way of the little window they now display the VIN number in  (by this point I am on the phone to Jim as I have run out of data on my phone so couldn’t google myself, also didn’t help he said ‘on the right’ I was looking on the right but inside the fucking engine!! it was the right the other way round!!!) so I stretch in the car over the steering wheel but short arms and big boobs don’t mix, get in the other side, manage to flick the ticket out the way and ‘boom!’ it’s there! so I trudge back to the bloody post office, they tried telling me I would need to send it away with a postal order by this point I was ready to blow but I managed the best resting bitch face I could, through my wonky teeth, I said “I’ve called them three times and they said I have to pay here”, thankfully all sense prevailed and five minutes later, £25 down, I have sent away for my new log book (that I have to fucking change again in two weeks time!) and my car is finally legal again. fucking hell I need a gin and diet coke after all that


Money and Me

As you can probably tell my shit life stems from one major thing: money. The famous saying “money doesn’t buy you happiness” no but it fucking helps you to live a better life and if anyone says otherwise is lying, you need money for everything these days, years ago when I was a child you could go out to the local town with a fiver in your sequined zip up purse, have a maccy D’s and go into Tammy Girl and buy something (even paying for your bus fare with it) now it costs about £20.00 for a child to go out for a trip up the town, the bus fare is £3.50, the maccy D’s is about £5.39, going and buying something worth while costs about a million fucking quid or going out for the day for a trip to the coast, I remember my mum and dad taking us for a ride along the Kent and Sussex coast, having a meal and it didn’t cost the earth, now you are looking at about £100 for that trip, all those little things that when someone uttered that saying was actually true now it isn’t, because those little trips out is what made people happy, my Saturday trips to Dartford made my week, those Sunday trips out with my family was just the best and my purple trainer I got from Folkestone market in 1992 was the best thing ever (I miss those fucking things!)

I have made some bad choices when it comes to money, my first furore into realising how quick money goes was the £1000 I got when I was 16, my mum and dad had been putting away money with the prudential ever since I was small, when I turned 16 I got half, they got half and within about a month, maybe less it was gone and what did I buy with it? I can’t even tell you, why would anyone let a 16 loose with a grand is beggars belief really and my dad isn’t the greatest with money (he panics when he goes into a shop and doesn’t know what he wants) so I haven’t really had the best role model when it comes to money, they are the type of parents that hide money worries or anything like that from the kids, which isn’t always a bad thing to try and shield your children.

When I turned 19 I was given £1000 on my credit card, I say given because I have never paid it off (I did once but spent it again), then this was just a downward sprial of debt, I can’t even get credit now because of all the choices I made ‘pay a bill or have a take away’ used to be mine and my ex husbands thing and because of that, here I am about to move back into a room with my fiance because I am fucking shit with money.

Since I can remember I have had handouts from my mum and dad and I deeply ashamed to admit it but I am still taking them because quite simply if I didn’t, I would most likely be living under a bridge, without them supporting me I wouldn’t survive, I was doing OK sort of up until 2014 before my marriage ended, they only helped out with the kids school stuff as I wasn’t on a very good wage but they were happy to help their grandsons but then my world fell apart and I found myself moving seven times (soon to be eight) in two years, they helped me with a deposit for the crazy ladies house I lived in for a while (although I didn’t actually ask them they called me up one day to say they would pay it) but then I decided to move to Essex to be with my partner, giving up my job and since then, six months have passed and I have never been so broke in all my life and as much as I love my  man, he isn’t earning a massive amount but he supports the pair of us, we moved into a lovely house in September last year, only for the landlord to want his house back at the end of the month (yes we paid the fucking rent!), so now we go back to the same room we moved from, tail between our legs that life was not better, although it has taught us some major lessons: Don’t be so trusting, Don’t take the first thing you see, Do have two incomes coming in before you make a commitment to a house (while we could afford the rent we were starting to struggle) and it’s taught my partner about bill paying (he never had too before, not like me who just couldn’t give a fuck about the council tax bill….I don’t think like that now, I’ve had many sleepless nights worrying about the bills, which is an odd feeling!)

I think my partner (hes called Jim btw!) and me are good for each other because alone we were bloody awful with money and shit, but together we work, not a lot of people believe this though, all they see is us going backwards but we turned down the offer of a deposit on a new house, we cancelled our wedding because it was another financial burden and they just see us with never being able to afford anything, sure getting the house was risky but it gave us Christmas with our kids and showed us that we need to be more financially secure so off we go to a room and going to save our money and show everyone that 2017/2018 is this year/s that Vera and Jim finally become adults (OK I am not committing to that just yet that’s far to grown up) it’s the year/s Vera and Jim become adult with money…that’s better!

I don’t really blame anyone for my money problems (well maybe my parents a little because they are role models right and should have taught me to save that fiver I took to the town and not spend it s soon as I got it but if I was anything like my kids, as soon as I had that fiver I would need to spend it, maybe they did encourage me to save it but I am being a typical child and not remembering) but now it’s time I stopped the bank of mum and dad, time I took responsibility for my past mistakes and not make any future ones, I’m not saying my life won’t be shit anymore by any means but it might start making me believe that life is actually for living and not for wasting time worrying about money, that we can’t treat the kids and stuff, of course you have to worry about it but I don’t want it to be the focus of my life anymore.

WHOOAA that was far to deep…..but you can see why my lifes so shit!

Much Love  V x


Why do Alien lives matter?

Its an odd choice of name for a blog/website isn’t it? well one thing I have learnt over the course of the last 37 years, that no matter how much we plaster a smile on our faces and in the last few years since Facebook became a staple of our every day lives and the constant ‘look at my life isn’t it great!’ posts we see, for lots of people, life is actually pretty shit but not many are game enough to admit it…I am changing that though, I am standing up to say “my name is Vera and I have a shit life” of course not all of my life is shit but no one will ever say that they have no money or that holiday they went on was funded by a loan, bank of mum and dad or brought by not paying bills, you simply see them on a nice holiday hiding the truth or that night out they had, the smile across their faces actually masks that to have that night out, they are living off sausages and chips for a week brought for £1.50 in Lidl. Even the little green men matter, hence the name.

So I would love to know why life is so shit to you (you will find that I make sentences far bigger than they need to be as I don’t know the correct your and your’re, the same with there, their and they’re….)

Shit Problem One: Basically money or lack of

Shit Problem Two: small matter my kids live with their (did I do it right?!) dad fifty miles away (no I am not a shit mum, two of my boys are autistic and was better for them to stay with their dad and the eldest is doing his exams this year) but they are happy

Shit Problem Three: I have two toned hair that looks ginger (nothing wrong with a ginge but I didn’t want ginge I wanted a mane of blonde

Shit Problem Four: most of my clothes have little holes in them from the crazy ladies house I moved into last year (I am sure I will do a post on that sometime, it’s comedy gold)

Shit Problem Five: I don’t have a job (long story) but with Shit Problem Number One I can’t do anything about Shit Problem Three and Four…

So come on, tell me why your/you’re lives are shit? open up, you can message me to remain anonymous, my plan is to do dedicate a page for others people #shitlivesmatter so people don’t feel so alone and use it as a bit of support and realise “actually life isn’t THAT bad”

Much Love V x


Even Aliens Matter

Hi, My name is Vera (you can call me V if you like, my fiance hates it but I wont tell if you don’t) and I am not really a girl, I am a full grown woman but all will become clear later.

Why am I starting a blog? why not!! in all fairness my life has got a bit shit (yeah I swear ALOT so if you don’t like it there is a little x above) and well, therapy for me is talking about my shit that’s gone wrong and maybe just maybe I might be able to help others with their shit lives, I am hash tagging that #shitlivesmatter.

You see it all started in 1979, it was summer and for some reason I got into difficulties when I was being born, so cue an emergency c-section for my mother and hours later she saw me and I quote “the love didn’t come to me when I first saw you, I hadn’t even had a chance to see you, so once your dad left for the night the nurse brought you in…”so that’s shitter number one, your mum declaring she didn’t love you when she first laid eyes on her beautiful baby girl, thanks mum!! As you can tell, ever since she told me I’ve had a major complex over it, she loves me now though that’s all that matters

Fast forward my teenage years (quite normal ish I think), then shitter number two happened..I married the first boy who took an interest in me, not that I thought that at the time, Well that is  bit of a lie, I had plenty of plebs as boyfriends but this one was the first one I had gone on a proper date with and I fell head over in heels love and still was in love with him many years later, we married after three months of dating…I will state I had known him since I was 11 and I was only 20 when we married, and NO THERE WASN’T A BUN IN THE OVEN!!! It was really a shitter of a problem, our marriage was fun and loving, he was and still is a lovely man, someone I will still hold dear to my heart forever.

Since Shitter number two happened I had three lovely sons (not shit) but I think I am now onto shitter 985122 and now I am fighting back!!

Much Love,

The Crazy two (soon to be three toned) coloured haired lady x