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Best friends

What do you do when you lose a best friend? Mourn and wonder what the hell you actually did wrong to deserve radio silence for a week.

Last weekend that exactly happened, my ex husband George and I have been ‘best friends’ since we split up, I use the inverted commas because we were once very close then naturally boyfriends and girlfriends come along and then one of you moves and before you know it you are just friends, which was fine I could cope with the odd text message but one thing I didn’t realise I would miss is the ability to send funny photos or tag him in posts I found so funny.

The reason for radio silence from I can gather is that I asked for a bit of time off, not because ‘I’m selfish’ or ‘I don’t love my kids’ the reason is we have a room, a one room that we eat, sleep and relax in, each weekend is taken up by kids, we don’t get that luxury of sleeping in, Jim gets up early on a weekday and even if it is a bank holiday for some reason we always have his kids over so for the past two months we haven’t been able to just lie in bed on a weekend like we used to, I had to return ted’s bike and I asked George if we could do it the Saturday morning, it needed stuff doing to it and it made sense, he agreed (he also agreed some weeks earlier that we could have on Saturday morning off) so we get to Saturday morning, the item was in the car waiting to go and I get a text to ask when we would be arriving, I had told George three times it would be lunch time. This is when the shit hit the fan and now because of this and he had a complete meltdown about something else related to me (but wasn’t my fault!) he hasn’t spoken to me since but apart to apologise to me for the melt down but he blocked me and Jim on Facebook for a while and now it’s been nearly a week and I miss my friend.

When we first split I wanted the whole ‘not talking just talk about the kids’ but he fought hard to get us in the place we were at and I accepted the situation and was happy with our balance, we could still go out for a drink or lunch and still see our collective friends but now nothing and I don’t like that feeling.

I know the reason for this whole thing, his girlfriend for some reason feels threatened by me…by ME! I’m getting married next year and I am completely besotted with Jim and I have no idea why she thinks I still have feelings for him, yeah we were married and yeah it must be kind of hard to still have your ex wife hanging about but Jim doesn’t mind that I still go for a drink with him (or did) but it was good for the kids to see their parents like that but now, it’s literally just drop them off and not have the usual handover and I don’t like it.

But there you go, it’s another thing I must overcome and deal with a changed relationship and how to deal with all this when it comes to the kids because we fought so hard for where we were and I feel sorry for them.
V x

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Crazy lady that I lived with

Ok she wasn’t that crazy maybe a sprinkling,I was sofa surfing again and I put a plea out on facefuck for a room to rent, this lady messaged me and said she had a nice room, so off I go the next day to view it, it’s lovely, a nice two bed cottage and I agree to move in, little did I know that it was going to be one of the worst experiences I could ever imagine, warning bells rang when my best friend sent me a text about the ladies lodger that was due to move out so I could move in, apparently she was a fucking fruit loop who wouldn’t let him out at night (he was a young lad) didn’t like it because he wouldn’t pull his weight (fair enough) and she was a general dragon to him, I didn’t know what to do but she called me up and explained so thought I’d take the benefit of the doubt, should have gone with the gut!

Upon moving in it was agreed that my boyfriend could stay twice a week, we came up with a great plan of how we would do it, the day I move in she changes it to every other weekend, ‘erm…ok’ I thought it wasn’t what we agreed and it was one of the only reasons I took the bloody room in the first place, a few nights later she says “I think when Adam stays he needs to pay something” I already thought I should offer, I mean we would be eating there etc, the first time he stayed was fine (albeit the fucking bed sounding like it was going to break if you coughed, “That” was certainly out the question!), I get a text a few days later asking me not to use the coffee, milk etc (she got me to agree on this stupid kitty system and she stated it was for tea, coffee, washing powder etc) so that was one of the first things I thought “hang on a fucking moment lady!” too.

Then there was the stuff in the bath and the fact I couldn’t have a shower because she was so bloody busy she couldn’t get round to putting the tiles on, so it was a stand up wash, every other day going back to my ex husbands house to have a bath (maybe I should have said “please get your shit out the bath, I’m paying for this” but I am too nice).

I was there a few weeks when she went to house sit, didn’t tell me she was going to be away, so night after night I didn’t bolt the door and I was alone, I could have been naughty and got Adam to stay but I followed the rules and I don’t have a problem being alone but you could fucking tell me!

Then things really took a weird turn, firstly their was the strong smell of fish coming from my room, turns out an electrical item had burnt out in my heater, this was like it for two weeks my room smelt like I had concealed a dead body in the wardrobe, I didn’t dare tell her for about a week, in all fairness she did try and sort it straight away but the stench remained for weeks and I don’t think the heater was ever sorted, she never told me it was.

One evening around Easter, Adam came to stay (by this point she was making it clear he wasn’t welcome so I would go to his most weekends we were together) we went out to the pub only I got very very drunk (zombiefied has been mentioned), we went back very early to the room and I went to bed, the next day Adam was worried about me so he came to sit with me while I had a bath, that evening she asked me not to do that again, fair enough it’s her house but it wasn’t like we were having sex in there!

After that it all went a bit downhill, when I first took the room on I was paying weekly to go over the monthly payment but me being a twat did’t have anyway to do this so it was agreed I would pay weekly but did she change the contract to reflect this, did was talk about the elephant in the room of how much I should be paying? nope, so there I was paying her more than I should of for the length of my stay and she was happy it was all in fucking cash but again I am nice person. By this point Adam didn’t come to stay again as we couldn’t eat in the kitchen, fuck he wouldn’t even shower in the now fixed bathroom, the only thing we did was come back late and go out early so we wouldn’t use any of her electric, I even started doing my washing elsewhere, she mentioned the fee for Adam staying and that’s when I thought I wasn’t going to fucking pay it! he didn’t even use her fucking loo roll or her electric while was there, he used to charge his phone at work and pray it didn’t run out of battery, that was the reason for the fee, ‘use of the internet (after she couldn’t get on the internet as there was to many devices on her shitty internet which wasn’t actually using the bloody network, we used our own data in the end) and for the electric (we even used to use the torches on our phones, didn’t even watch TV at the end), she was trying to charge him £8 a weekend!!! £8!!! fuck off!! (I won’t mention the moths eating away at my clothes, well OK as I did mention it, when I moved in there was a hole in the carpet, then another appeared, then I found small moths in my clothes, I’ve had to buy a whole new wardrobe since I left, I should really bill her.

By now it was almost time for us to go away for the weekend, I had told her about two weeks beforehand that I was planning on moving to Harlow at the end of July, she was fine with it but then I got thinking I would quite like to go and stay with my boys for a month before I left, I mentioned this to her (remember it was more than 4 weeks notice) and by fuck I have never seen someone give someone else the silent treatment like she gave me she never spoke to me again and that was with me trying! we went away by the time we came back I didn’t want stay there ever again, we got my stuff out (with the help of my ex and best friend) and then I slipped a note in her door, I had since reread my lease and realised that the three months’ had run out on my lease while we were away and as far as I was concerned or cared at this point, I didn’t need to give her any notice, I worked out that with the over payment I made one month and with the deposit I paid her I didn’t owe her any rent for June, I wasn’t convinced I’d ever get my deposit back anyway as she already told me she didn’t have any money, so yeah I might have left her without a tenant but all she would have to do anyway was save the 4 weeks rent I was going to give her only to give it back to me so I done her a favour in  way, that’s if I ever got it back, doubtful.

She tried to get me at work, yeah OK she knew I didn’t work on a Saturday, she tried messaging Adam on Facefuck asking for my solicitors details, I’m sorry was we married?!

I see her now and again and see the room is back up for rent, I’d rather living in a box, on a river, with a howling wind taking me downstream then live there again.

 

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Moving

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

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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

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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

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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