enjoy the silence

it's all quiet in the house of the pant.

so quiet in fact that no one would guess there was six cats and two male types living here with me. I rather like it. Everyone has buggered off an left me to it. This is what normal folks call me time. I guess it means that there is no urgent household chore to be done, the smell of cat butt isn't invading the atmosphere the telly isn't on and blasting out enough noise to melt the last of the neighbourhood brain waves.

oooo what to do then.

i have tea sitting in a mug on top of a glass coaster. i have managed to get my little lappy toppy thingy actually working. i have music blasting into my ears. the world could implode and im not sure i would actually notice right now. My bum is nestled into a rather furry office chair. i am poised like an over weight leppard about to strike its first meal, lethal , hungry , motivated. The possibilities are endless, the world is my oyster.

I have fucking writers block.

shit shit and double amounts of excrement. i have no idea what to do now im here. My tea is luke warm and milky and well not the best cup ever created. None of the music in my phone is inspiring me to do anything but headbutt my desk in frustration. The fleeting images that tickled my imagination have vanished.And i really really want a cigarette.

Bollocks double bollocks and arse. Fucking me time is making a mockery of me. maybe i should just stick to what normal people do and submerge myself in a bath for a hour, or read a book someone else wrote. i could watch a film, go for a walk. Ha who am i kidding this is me we are talking about. I cant concentrate enough to read a book and i would probably be asleep by the first chapter. i already had a bath, if i have any more i will turn into the size of a prune or a grape or tomato, well some kind of red faced burnt arsed vegetable anyway. As for going out not a chance. i dont go out unless there is a gun to my head or cake is involved. going out means people ( yuck humans ) guess i will just wander round the house wishing for inspiration and enjoy the silence while it lasts.

it never lasts for very long anyway.

treading water

It wasn't me who did the washing today, or scrapped the cat poo, fed the cats, got the boy ready for football, made the beds, or tidied the kitchen.it wasn't me, i wasn't there. i was too busy hanging on to the ledge of reality trying not to fall off it. I'm never here anymore, i dont remember conversations, i cant make plans. my house is not my own anymore. there is no quiet time, so i'm not there.
i am an illusion a very clever illusion that means no one notices. i am the stepford woman who inwardly screams as outwardly she puts on her normal face and prays the mask doesnt slip.
i am the woman who longs for what she never had and misses the things that never miss her. i am the one you dont hug, the one who you cant touch i am stone. feelings are a distant memory.
dont ask me what i want, don't ask my permission, dont inquire where things are. i dont know i was never here.

basket case

Today i went shopping . It wasn't a momentous occasion , i made it round Iceland without spending too much or buying anything that wasn't neatly written down. I didn't end up with Biro down my front from ticking frozen items from the shopping list. All of my elastic decided to stay where it was supposed to be. I defied gravity a thing that i'm sure the whole of uxbridge town center is mightily grateful for.
Then a thought struck me as i was wandering down the isles in Wilkinson wafting my basket from side to side to ward off old people, small people and just people in general.
I WONDER WHAT THE CONTENTS OF MY BASKET SAY ABOUT ME ?

People judge we all know that and the first person to pull the "I never judge " card can cheerfully knob off to church and check on their reserved pew in heaven.
so what does seven ambi pure smellies of various scents, plus two plug in thingys, a mountainous amount of tampax bucket size and cat treats say to the less than discerning eye ? I have a feeling that it pretty much screams single,has cats, no sex life, house smells.

I think i might be doomed three out of four of those are correct. well maybe not the house smells bit or the single bit. It just goes to show that what people have in their baskets and shopping trolleys doesn't  necessarily represent their lives, in my case it merely hints at the shit and acts as a wake up call.

ode to the english language

.So you don't blog for months and then that bus thing happens, two come along at once. Well don't blame me blame social media and a spare hour between televisual programming .I was just doing the social media version of curtain twitching, which is reading things that people you may have seen once twenty years ago have commented on. Oh my what an eye opener. The poor guy was so busy ranting all thoughts of actually stringing a sentence together vanished into the mists of this rant. The subject was bullying ,the school well known for this and a few other problems. I remember going to look round it years ago.two things struck me number one the kids didn't greet each other vocally they happy slapped each other instead and the parents were twelve year old drug users with more tattoos than brain cells.'strangely none of my children ever went near there. Who would want to go and be educated in a place that was run that a borstal with all the charm of an ikea showroom .
Any who the moral of this story is that you are either part of the it crowd or the innit crowd. Personally education and culture pretty much rule overall else with me, but if you can't string a sentence together while ranting in public do it verbally not on paper,email or the dreaded Facebook.
Also trying to type one fingered on a kindle while trying to appear like you have an education doesn't work. Neither does typing on a touch type phone in the middle of a mud covered football field while shivering and needing a wee.in either of these circumstances  punctuation is not your friend.

the year of the pant

So this is a first. I'm blogging from a kindle could end up a massive cluster fuck what with good old predictive text but we shall see.
So year of the pant . well after the end of last year when according to some I nearly died due to plumbing issues and leaking particles. Then the wonderful build a bear stuffing that lasted for over a month and now the scars of varying sizes this year has to be better don't you think .
So far most of the planning has been in my head. Most of the things that happen here the brain work if you will happen in my head . no one listens so I never plan out loud but I do plan. I want to decorate this year. The cats have done a real number on my walls. Its not so much pants palace more pants drug den thanks to the pasty and the hairy bear pulling the wall paper off the walls. So far I have repainted the downstairs loo. Oh in case you were wondering it did help. I shouted instructions and stood over it as it did what he was ordered.
Apart from that there are other things going round in my head. But as I am never on my own long enough to do anything I'm not sure how I will be able to get any other plans done. We will see but one way or the other year of the pant has begun slowly but it has begun.

the naming of the poo

as you will be aware at pants palace four cats reside. this means four different types of cat poo, four types of gut wrenching vomit producing smell. so in an effort to A, work out the culpret of said smell and B, to make the task of the grand scrap more amusing i named the individual poos.

!, the poots maneuver - made by the oldest and most diva like of the cats Putin.

2, the widgey squit - this is produced with the added vomit smell by the second cat widget.

3, the mondo teaser - looks like a malteaser  and given to us daily by the big furry gizmo.

4, the jinxster pasty - named this way because it rhymes with ginster but smells nothing like a pasty.


so yes we are a house of cat lovers and nicknamers and so even the poo's have their own identities .

enjoy your meals.

pants out.

things that fall apart when your ill

i have been ill for a week now. in and out of bed not being able to be comfortable anywhere for long periods of time, shivering or sweating aching popping painkillers like the world is about to end. i havent felt this ill in years.
so while i have been ill who do you think has looked after the house?
well for the first two days while i was in bed resident male spent the whole of the time watching 158 episodes of dragonball z in his dressing gown.
did he do any washing ?
Did he hoover at all?
did he tidy anything?
did he steam the kitchen floor?

did he fuck!!!!!

the carpets have more cat fur and bits of broken cat claw on them than it should be possible to have stuck to a carpet. the kitchen floor is a nasty minging mess. in fact by wednesday the fluffy one asked the teen to come over to cook his tea for him.

ok so admittedly he has washed some clothes now and hung most of them out. it is glaringly obvious that i am ill. we even ran out of cat food and loo roll at one point.
he did try to look up on the computer what i most likely had and managed to narrow it down to the following.

bone cancer
mrsa
norvo virus
meningitis
fibromyalgia
or maybe the flu

what little faith i have in him being able to do anything with out having the instructions spoon fed him first several times has now left.this is a human being for which the word initiative didnt just simpley pass him by. it ran screaming in the opposite direction .
i have a lot of things to do when im better i hope to god that is before we turn into an episode of horders,

pants out

so the world's going mental on thursady is it

apparently it's world mental health day on thursday.
should i as a person who suffers mental illness be pleased about this? maybe i should as this is the day that makes public the fact that people are suffering. it's a poor mans live aid for the dribbley.
yes i just went there, yes i did just say that and no i'm not about the apologize for it either.
to be honest what does having a day like that accomplish?
will it send the shiver of horror down the necks of those wonderful governmental departments that would like to put us all in the same box as the work shy ? nope shouldn't think so.
will it make anyone think about mental health and the effect it has on how people struggle to lead a normal and for filled life ?  i doubt because the only people who know about this day will be the ones and their families that suffer with this. it's not about to change the perspective of anyone else who thinks having a mental illness is just a bunch of slightly bad days clubbed together a bit like having the flu.
so what is the point of mental health awareness day?
and when exactly will it be national lets all fart in a crowded lift day?
or national pick your nose on a bus day.
they say a dog is for life not just for christmas well so is being stuck with as mental illness.
it's not just for one day and having a day publishing this isn't going to bloody help.
i will now sit back and wait for the arse kicking.
just remember it's an opinion on a blog.
my opinion my blog.
pants out.

me again and other lame introductions

i think this must be the longest i have been away from the virtual world. Strangely leaving was easy, well anything is if your getting a little disenchanted  with just about everything.
so you decide to have this great social experiment called life.
This involved alot of knit one, pearl one ,drop one, and no i don't mean farting. i moved the front-room round when i say moved round, what i mean is i stood in the middle of the room pointed, barked orders and eventually gave my approval.
I also had one of those days about a month ago. You know the sort of days when you go into the pet shop to buy cat litter and come out with cat litter and a kitten. She is called Jinx. so that would be cat number four then.
I will try to be more interesting in the future.
or more grumpy what ever comes first,

Is it wrong that i am nervous about going back on line to the world of the tweet????

give me a moment i may have left my spare pair of testicles down the side of the sofa with the spare cat fluff and a ten pence piece.

yes sir i crush candy

i think i may have given up on life.
there was a time in the dim and distant past when i had dreams , biggish dreams and plans and things i wanted to do. i was going to write something wonderful and have it published. i was going to blog all the time and spread the word of pants.
the only thing i spread now is my ever widening bum on a corner of the sofa.
it's drepressing when you have depression isn't it.
when going out to the local corner shop to top up the meter becomes a battle of wills, between the need for light and the need to stay where you know is safe.
so right now while people are suggesting places where i should be going and enjoying myself, you know the well meaning " oh you should go out for a meal,"
god no i don't want strangers watching me eat.
or the even better, " why don't we go shopping to one of the biggest shopping centers in creation and you can help me choose a dress "
firstly sounds expensive secondly sounds crowded thirdly i know i will probably not sleep for the two nights before hand worrying as it is some where new.
i am begining to wonder if i am slightly agrophobic.
but in the mean time there is candy crush and games of that nature. so i sit and crush candy sometimes very unsuccessfully but it helps block out the real world for a while. it means i dont have to listen to endless talking about things i have no interest in. its a great way to put off well anything really.
so if you ask me what i do at the moment my answer will be

yes sir i crush candy

fluffisms

what is a fluffism ?
the answer to that is anything that come are out of the fluffy ones mouth.
here are some of my favorite ones.

Have you ever been to the awful tower ?

In my class some of my friends were doing the fandango. That's the forbidden dance isn't it.

In R.E we have been learning about the prophet Mo ham head and his five pillows of islam.

I don't understand this algebra why have letters in maths ? maths is about numbers not letters.

The who were really good but they are really old and wrinkley like raisins.

Mum mum quick come and look i have a pubic hair I'm going to call him Gerald.

My friend is called jazmeet he's a vegetarian so i call him jaz veggy.

it's very difficult not to laugh when he is so politically incorrect sometimes because he is also daft as a brush.
and as he says
"It's all part of my fluffyness."

weekus fucking awfulus

yes that was my limited attempt at latin. seeing as the queen had a horrible anus ( it's a play on words i'm sure her behind is genuinely wonderful for one so senior ) i thought that i would just have a very shitty week.
enough of the insomniac filled explaination of a title and on the the main event.

a week and a half ago the fluffy one was sent to the hospital by our local gp. he had spent the weekend vomiting like the exorcist and had a painful stomach, so after some prodding from the doctor, tears from fluffy and a bit of there there never mind from me we were referred to the hospital. the doc thought it was a possible appendix and had spoken to the surgical people so off we went. luckily i live quite close to the hospital so after a quick pit stop to pick up teddy and some books we , fluffy , adulf and i went on our ,merry way.

we were seen fairly quickly which is a good thing as adulf gets a little on the parent from hell side when he is kept waiting.. blood was taken, pain killers were given and fluffy was very brave about the whole thing. when the surgical team came down, he was able without much prompting to tell them what hurt and how long it had hurt for. i was impressed for a small fluffy eleven year old he was very descriptive about the whole thing. they thought it was probably an appendix and so admitted him for further observation.

it was now way past lunch time, no one had eaten ( good thing for fluffy not so good for me ) when we got to the childrens ward. one thing i have to say about the whole experience all the staff that we saw were really really friendly and spent the time talking to el fluffo about everything. being dyslexic the fluffy one has a lot of problems retaining information so the same question gets asked over and over again. usually at home it's a case of groan bang head repeatedly against wall and in extreme cases hide in the toilet until he has forgotten what he was going to ask. not this time, this time repeated questions were encouraged so fluffy talked to everyone. when i say everyone i mean absolutely everyone from the cleaning staff upwards.
he seemed quite bright and then suddenly the pain medication stopped working, he said he could feel his side throbbing. a nurse was called and in turn she beeped the surgeon who came down and had another look.suddenly fluffy was put into a gown and at eight o'clock on monday the 17th of june he had his appendix removed.

i stayed with him that night on a camp bed thingy. at one in the morning he tried to get out of bed complained loudly about the blood pressure sleeve on his arm refused to pee in a bottle and then went back to sleep again. to this day he can't remember that. adulf turned up at ten the next morning to take over and i went home.

i came home to find an over flowing bin a poo filled cat tray dirty washing up and the resident male in bed. i cleaned the tray , washed up, stripped fluffy's bed and put the bedding in the wash and had a shower. having decided that there was no way adulf would cope with the camp bed , my daughter stayed the next night with him. he came home on the wednesday evening and has been slowly recovering since.

it's not easy having a child that loves sport and cant go near anything vaugely sporty for at least a month and who is getting stir crazy and very very annoying but i manage. the main thing is he is ok now well as ok as you can be when your small blonde and a bit fluffy round the edges.

ode to wapspar

on tuesday evening while parked on the sofa i had a phone call. My daughter rang to tell me that the mother ships oldest cat had passed away. He was a black and white cat called Jasper and had lived to the grand old age of 21. For those without a calculator that works out to around the hundered mark in human years.

Without any hesitation i called a cab and went straight over there. Jasper was one of a kind. He would climb onto your left shoulder and snuggle into your neck, dribbling into your neck and refuse to move. She had rescued him nearly twelve years ago and for the first six months he didn't purr. But with love and a stable home he soon flourished.

Everyone loved Jasper or wapspar as he came to be known. He didnt care if you liked cats or not if you sat still long enough that lap was his. if any visitors had come by car he would follow them and try to get into the car.

I'm glad i got to say goodbye. He was a beautiful creature, gentle , loving , a bit dribbly.
I'll miss him.

shit happens it's just not that interesting

so been a while . the world keeps turning and i'm still here  .

You know that moment when you have nothing beyond what your having for dinner to say ? well that has been me. when it gets to the point when even a fart joke isnt funny anymore it's time to take a back seat and that is what i have been doing. That and discovering my inner knitting nanna. Yes you heard correctly i have been sitting clicking needles with great abandon and creating blankets, five in total so far if you count the one i am doing now.

and then there are the usual cats shedding hair like the world is about to end. every so often a little  bundle of dusttridden cat fur float past like those texas tumbleweeds.

and there is always fluffy who is more mouthy less fluffy now he is in high school. his room has been moved round three times already in an effort to keep it tidy. so far nothing has worked and it still smells like arse and feet.

so in conclusion i'm fine its just the rest of them but then we always knew that . when i say fine i mean boring covered in wool and cat hair and with not much to say, this may change.

the black dog of pants

i hate my dog more of a cat person you see. it's a horrible big dark thing that cloaks me from day to day. some days the cloak gets lighter, but recently it's almost suffocating me. so instead of trying to ignore it and all it's wonderful symptoms, the tears that i hide, the anger that i can't hide, the seeing things that aren't there ect ect i have had to grudgingly go back to my medication.
enter the side effects, blinding headache, wanting to vomit and dizzy spells which are oh so fun. it's also effecting my sleep in as much as i am not really getting much of it. good old restless leg syndrome is really kicking my arse at the moment. so at night my eyes are closed my body is screaming for rest and my legs and arms are having a party that the rest of me isn't invited to.
i hate it it's frustrating that i have things in the fridge that need to be cooked and probably won't be, so will go to waste. i can't stand up for more than a few moments without feeling like i want to throw up and or pass out. in the back of my mind i have a person with a clip board telling me i have to do this this and this and i havent done any of it at all. i have about another half a week of side effects before hopefully i start feeling ok. well not sick any more ok isn't something i am very good at feeling at the best of times. but as long as the brain deadness goes and i have some energy at the end of it that will do. 

the blog that makes no sense

do you ever get the feeling that your swinging from the ceiling and your pants they are revealing and this blog it makes no sense. my mind i fear has left me bereft with a bowl of shreddies no milk the fridge is empty and this blog makes no sense. these random things are streaming from a mind that is revealing while some kittens are appealing and this blog just makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.

saying bum with a smile

Just a thought a very small thought as i have only ingested two cups of tea. I have been reading a lot of blogs quietly, thoughtfully sometimes i nod and agree, sometimes i pull a bit of a face or wipe a wet eye and wish people knew just how brave they were.
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.

and thus the pants have spoken

feeling guilty

i am feeling a little out of sorts. Tonight i have seen entries in two different blogs that have prompted my brain to turn in on itself and ask the question

Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.

truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
 anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.

CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.

Angry Pants

Actually i'm not angry i'm absolutely bloody steaming right now. I have had enough of the uneducated trolls who think that everyone who can't work for any reason should get off their lazy drug riddled arses and find a job.Most of the time i won't bite, not quite true the tip of my tongue has teeth marks in it on numerous occasions, this time though was a step too far.
On facebook i am a member of a fantastic page called Atos Miracles. Without this page i am confident in saying that i and a lot of other people would be even more afraid about the hell that our beloved government are thinking up for us. This page is a support to anyone and everyone who is fighting Atos, who quite frankly couldn't give a toss and i have learnt a great deal from it.
So tonight while wafting through facebook as you do i come across an entry for this page. Someone who is very scared and vulnerable just asking for help and advice. I's what the page is there for. What i did not expect when i read down the comments was someone who thought that because people are on facebook that automatically implies they can work, that they are worthless scroungers. I am being a lot politer than the troll that this came from.
NOW LET US GET A FEW THINGS STRAIGHT HERE MR TROLL.
unlike you who look the epitome of hooliganism obviously treating your body like a beer ,drugs and kebab temple every weekend when your job seekers allowance comes through , we can not work through serious mental of physical illness.
 we are not the idiots that grace your screens on programmes like the Jeremy Kyle show or 999 what's your emergency, those so off their heads on drink and drugs that they are no good to man nor beast. those are the people that give us a bad name.
DO NOT DEGRADE US BY CATEGORIZING THESE PEOPLE WITH US THE GENUINELY ILL.

Let he who is without fault cast the first stone. we are vulnerable people who are judged daily and shunned by others. We are judged enough by various departmental bodies what we don't need is to be judged by the great unwashed on a social networking sight. Some of us aren't strong enough to fight back.

I genuinely hope that the person who put up the question/ cry for help gets the advice that they so greatly need.
As for Mr troll my dream is that he takes a long walk off a very short cliff .

and thus the pants have spoken.

Because sometimes 140 characters just isnt enough

Today i went in search of cat food, not just any old cat food but the kind of cat food that none of the super markets seems to stock. I hate going out.Going out means noise and people and i'm not a fan of noise and people. But i was a hermit yesterday so today i had to venture.
First to the local post office. This is hidden at the back of a little corner shop that smells of curry and depending on the weather and time of day sweat and last nights booze consumption. If you time yourself correctly you can be in and out of there in under five minutes, if not then you are forced to Que behind the great unwashed most of whom seem to want to post parcels lots of parcels all around the world, very slowly. The more parcels the more movement, the more movement the bigger the smell. It's not pleasant.
Next the bus into town, stuffy, damp seats , old people with the added attraction of the dick head that thinks the whole bus wants to hear his phone conversation. No no we really don't care about your life, next time whisper you inconsiderate tit.
Finally off the bus and into the wall of sound. It's like being hurled head long into the rat race and then run over by several buggy's. the bank was hot, the staff unfriendly and the resident male and i were stuck behind a woman with a double buggy containing twin girls intent on killing each other loudly. One of them with gritted teeth bounced a plastic beaker off the side of the other ones head and the second small child screamed and managed to kick her sister in the side of the head. I'm still not sure how she managed to get her leg up that high seeing as she had the worlds baggiest nappy on.
Anyway off to the next shop this time to buy smelly things. we stood for a while scratching and sniffing, the air fresheners not each other, before deciding on a selection of fruity smells anything to hide the smell of cat and small boy works for me. and then home. I had been out for precisely an hour it had been a long hour, by the time we got in my head was spinning from the noise and the smells.
In forty minutes i have to go out again this time to get the fluffy one from school and throw him into his friends car to go to karate. My failed dieting is becoming even more failed. I have put in all my food so far on that fitness pal thing. I did know i was doomed when i entered a sausage roll and it laughed at me. although in other news the down stairs loo smells like an orange grove the kind of orange grove that rips your nose off and screams sniff the air i smell awsome bitch's. if that doesn't counter act the smell of small boys bottom nothing will.
and that is my day so far .
boring isn't it.