When Eggs Go Bad...

Exes and Ohs

Did you miss me? (What do you mean was I gone?!)

Had an excellent vacation (with huge apologies to those of you with whom I had tentative plans to meet up; it just didn't happen for various reasons including me being sick with a cold the entire first week!). It threatened to start out badly, as Mr B and I had to tell the Badeggs Daughter that her father had been arrested.

We knew it was coming. He has harassed me for 9 years now with awful, upsetting letters and the occasional phone calls, and Mr B has been on the receiving end for the past 4 years. It has got much worse in the past couple of years, culminating in police involvement during 2004, when our wedding was preceded by several letters commenting on everything from our choice of wedding day (11th September) to whether I was entitled to a church wedding seeing as I am a liar and a cheat. More recently his parents started sending things to me, and his letters became increasingly upsetting, and that's when we decided to involve the police again. He was asked by them to stop writing; his response was to start writing letters to the police! He was asked to stop again; final warning. He wrote a letter to me that actually threatened me (smart guy, eh?). So on 23 July at 11 pm he was taken into custody and interviewed for a few hours. His parents bailed him out, apparently, and his mother telephoned mine to tell her how depraved I am. Yeah, cry me a river.

Anyway, you can imagine how difficult it was to tell my daughter. We decided to do it ourselves, rather than risk having her hear it from her father or grandparents, who would of course skew everything so that it was all my fault (because the police are always arresting people on my say so, don't you know). It's hard for her because she hears her father say that he's only trying to start a dialog with me about her. She can't understand that his letters are nothing to do with creating a dialog or building bridges but are simply a vehicle for abuse. And of course she wants to believe her father is a decent person. Mind you, deep down I think she knows that he has problems. About a week before we left, she came down and spoke to both Mr B and myself (unusual; it's usually just me) and spoke of how her father is always talking to her like she is a stand-in for me. "I am worried he's going to end up in the loony bin," she said, "He's so paranoid."

Daughter cried when we explained about the arrest (hell, even I cried; I never wanted it to end up like this) and I told her it was OK to feel angry and upset with me and with the situation and even with her dad. She went to spend some time on her own, but within hours she was talking to me and acting normally. She had a lot of heart-to-hearts with my younger sister who has the gift of being able to temper bluntness with humour, and my daughter shared the content of those talks with me (or at least some of it). By the end, she was happy to simply let it be the grown-ups' problem. In fact, when her grandmother called towards the end of our trip (yes, they can never let the child just enjoy her time in America) she took the call in full earshot of my sister and mother and was heard to tell her grandmother: "I don't want to hear it, Grandma. it's not my problem." What a kid!

She's now in France for 10 days on a school water-sports trip. By the time she's back, we should know whether her father will actually be charged with harassment or just given an official caution.

Arrgh! Enough about the exes; now for the Oh!s. Yesterday was my 20-week scan (and I am officially 20 weeks' pregnant tomorrow). I've made it to the halfway point and baby has all his/her fingers and toes and everything else it needs. And the kid yawned, I kid you not! RIght there on the monitor. I guess we were boring it. (Ha! Just wait 'til you're born, kid; we're the most boring people on the planet.) We did have the gender 'confirmed' (they never give you 100% certainty, but they were fairly confident in what they saw/didn't see) but we're not telling. Only my sister and best friend know! I will try to get the photos scanned so that I can post them via a link, but our scanner's shot, so I have to find someone at work to do it for me. Don't hold your breath! (But I do have the cutest shot of his/her little feet!)

It was all very emotional. I didn't cry, but I kept thinking about all the babies we had to lose to get to this place. And though I know that they simply weren't 'compatible with life', as they say, that something in their genetic make-up had gone wrong and they simply couldn't have lived, it still makes me sad to think what might have been for those sons and daughters of ours. And it just kills me that there are mothers and fathers going through the agony of repeated loss or inability to conceive right now. I just wish so much that I could fix it for everyone.

It's good to be back. Work is busy and the broadband at home is down, so I may not be able to post very much for the time being. But you know where to find me.

Rage

God help me I am so angry right now I am absolutely shaking.

Shortly after my second miscarriage, I discovered that a friend of mine from school days was pregnant for the second time. Her due date was days from when my twins would have been born. And, understandably I feel, I had some difficulty dealing with it. When her perfectly healthy son was born, a mere week before my twins should have come into the world, I was simply incapable of writing to congratulate her. I sent well wishes through a mutual friend, but that was literally all I could do without being overwhelmed by the grief that was, at that time, still threatening to bury me.

Recently, I wrote to her. I apologised for not having been in touch, and I tried to explain why I hadn't been able to do it. "For some reason," I said, "I have been OK with the fact that my sister is having a baby, but A. was born so close to when my twins would have been born, that it just broke my heart, and I couldn't find it in me to get in touch. I know that's crap, and I'm sorry."

That was a month ago. I didn't hear from her until today. It was seemingly an OK e-mail, until I got to the nice little zinger hidden in the middle:

"I thought about writing sooner but honestly I was having a little problem with the fact that you were ok with your sister having a baby but having trouble with the timing of A's birth."

Well, God almighty, I'm so incredibly fucking sorry that my grief got in the way of your celebrations! How fucking RUDE of me to think that I had any right to feel distraught that my babies die while yours lived. No, seriously, I'm going to go outside right now and flagellate myself with a birch branch. It's nothing less than I deserve for not dropping everything to fall on my knees and worship your precious brat.

Jesus, God, I cannot even believe this person. I always thought of her as a woman of great patience and forbearance, but like almost every other woman I know, once she has kids no one else but them matters anymore. This person has the GALL to have a problem with the fact that I had to tend to my grief over my dead children rather than send a stupid note saying oh well done you for having yet another brat. I'm just devastated and hurt beyond belief that she would make a point of saying that to me in between platitudes of how sorry she is that I've "had such a hard time". HARD TIME????? Fuck me, woman, this is not a hard time. Getting a flat tire on the way to an important meeting is a hard time. Losing FOUR, COUNT THEM, FOUR babies in the space of a year is not a hard time. it's a fucking nightmare that never ends. It is the worst grief imaginable AND YOU HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED IT, so how DARE you censure me for how I cope with it. How FUCKING DARE YOU??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At this point, I honestly don't ever want to speak to her again. You know, another friend of mine has 3 kids. She adores them, and she talks about them a lot. And when I was losing babies like a primary school child loses teeth, she asked me every single time: Is this OK? Are you able to talk about my kids? She loves me so much that she was able to put her understandably strong feelings about her children to one side to make sure that I was OK with it. And most of the time, that very gesture made me able to talk kid stuff without losing it, because I knew that if it became too much, I could ask her to stop and she wouldn't, not for one second, condemn me for it. And until today, I honestly thought I had two friends like that.

Well, losing a friendship like the one I've lost today is one 'death' I can take.

They can breed you know...

Normal service will be resuming soon, as Lola is on her way back as I type this, so I hope y'all enjoyed our time together.

I was going to blog about this (and do go take a look) but the more I thought about the concept, the more it started to completely gross me out - after I had thought about how politicians could be used to increase the output (got you now haven't I... go on take a look - but don't say I didn't warn you OK).

But instead a few well chosen words on... this particular specimen of humanity

Let's see now:

1) No control of vehicle
2) Because she is applying make-up
3) And hang on - she is ALREADY BANNED FROM DRIVING
4) For being drunk at the wheel
5) Two weeks ago

And that is apparently is.... wait for it, wait for it...

Careless Driving.

What the F---?!

Careless Driving is like when you miss a stop sign or fail to look both ways before pulling out of a junction and have a near miss or something. It's wrong, but it is a genuine moment where there has been a lapse in concentration. We've all been there - hopefully not very often but...
Carefully applying make-up is clearly not a lapse in concentration, neither does one accidentally forget that y'know, one is BANNED FROM DRIVING (which means no insurance, which means that if the silly b%^ch had mown someone down, then all sorts of fun and games would ensue).

And the penalty for such a complete and total disregard of the law, and indeed the previous punishment handed down for being drunk at the wheel - £200 and 6 points on the license (when she gets it back). Hands up who thinks she won't just get straight back in the car and carry on anyway like she already has.

It makes me mad that this person can just carry on in her own sweet way, and even when she gets caught TWICE, is still able to carry on as if nothing has happened. Is she a danger to all around her?  Has she demonstrated that she cannot be trusted to behave responsible in a lethal vehicle? Only twice.  Am I the only one who things that her ass should be thrown in jail for a month or two followed by a 10 year ban from driving and serious jail time if she is caught driving whilst banned?

I had a damn good friend who was killed by an idiot such as her. He hit a van that stalled across the middle of a two lane highway. The van had not got 1st gear (broken) so the driver was trying to drive it using 2nd 3rd and 4th  - not good. It had been like that for some time. Turns out that my friends life was worth £400 and 6 points on the license (you need 12 to get a ban - so another person can be killed before they think you might need some time off the road).

Four Hundred Quid. Not much for a life is it. And then I think about this blog, and all the other blogs and the community out there that knows exactly how much a life is worth and I start to feel rage that these people can just walk through life without thinking about the effect that their actions may have on others, and even when they are caught, nobody can be bothered to point out the seriousness of what they have done.

£400. Makes you think doesn't it.

Could I have a Do-Over?

I had to do it, didn't I. I couldn't just leave well enough alone. I couldn't keep my head down and put my hands over my ears and go LA LA LA, thus completing the ritual required to avoid being Bitten in the Ass by Fate.

No sooner did I post this meditation on the injustices of the English family courts system, than my ex-husband once again oozed out from the slime pit in which he dwells to sic (sick?) his particular brand of bitterness and retribution on me.

Yes, as of yesterday, my ex is once again claiming child support from me through that worm-ridden piece of filth bastion of equitability and fairness, the Child Support Agency. And because the laws in this country are utterly shambolic, I will end up having to pay something in the region of £250 per month--that's £250 that will disappear straight down my husband's throat in liquid form or into his lungs in tobacco or, more than likely, herbal form--despite the fact that my daughter lives with me precisely half of the time and I already foot the vast majority of her expenses such as school uniforms, field trips, extra-curricular activities, etc.

Honestly, it's enough to make a grown woman weep. What, is there some department that makes this stuff up? It makes you wonder....

Scene.

[Universe Inc., Bite Me Division switchboard]

Operator: Good afternoon, Universe Inc. Bite Me Division. How may I direct your call?

Lola: Uh... yeah, hi. Um, I need some information, please, about why my life is a continuing big-pile-of-steaming-dogshit suckfest.

Operator: That would be the Persecutions and Torment Department. Just transferring you.

[Cue hold music: 'What Have I done to Deserve This' by the Pet Shop Boys]

Persecutions and Torment Drone (PAT): Persecutions and Torment. Can I help you?

Lola: I hope so. Are you the department that's responsible for the never-ending round of shittitude that benights my every waking hour?

PAT: That would be us!

Lola: Right...

PAT: Do you have a question, Madam?

Lola: Well, yes, as it happens. I just want to know... why?

PAT: Why? As in "Why the shittitude?" Well... because we can.

Lola: Because you can. You basically think up nasty little shocks and upsets to visit upon me for no other reason than because you can?

PAT: That's correct. We have a divine governmental mandate.

Lola: To wreak havoc in decent people's lives.

PAT: If you'd like to put it that way. We prefer to describe our work as 'virtual violation'. All the fun of a night in the State Penitentiary with none of the mess!

Lola: Let me get this straight...You're the people who are responsible for sending me miscarriages, an ex-husband who is endlessly inventive about ways to suck the will to live (not to mention my cash) out of me, and a daily commute designed to cause maximum frustration and stress? You're the ones who make sure that every good thing that happens in my life is immediately counteracted by one or more beatings?

PAT: Now you're catching on.

Lola: But that's just awful! How on earth can I fight the system?

PAT: Well, have you spoken to your DR?

Lola: DR?

PAT: Your Deity Representative.

Lola: Sorry, you've lost me.

PAT: Ah, well, this could explain a lot. Your Deity Representative is appointed by the Fat Chance Division as a sort of checks and balances to our work. Let me just check your file... Badeggs...Badeggs...Ah! Here we go. Your DR is Jesus Christ. Nice fellow, him.

Lola: Jesus. Right. Well, actually, I did speak to him rather a lot until recently. He didn't help very much.

PAT: Huh! Go figure. Well, you could always try his mother. I hear she takes some consultancy work.

Lola: Well, yes, but, if JC is supposed to be my DR, shouldn't he be trying to help?

PAT: Yeah...he really should...Oh. Hang on a sec.

Lola: What? Have you found something?

PAT: Yes indeed I have, Madam. And I have to say that I'm a little peeved that you didn't come clean about this to start with. I feel like Oprah! I feel like the American public who voted for Dubya! I've been DUPED!

Lola: What on earth are you talking about?!

PAT: It's right here. You're on the blacklist for DR-related intervention.

Lola: What?! But...why?

PAT: As if you didn't know.

Lola: No! I really don't!

PAT: Back when you were 16 and you asked Jesus for a new car? And you promised to go to church every Sunday if he gave you one? Well, Madam, you got that car. And Jesus has noticed a distinct lack of your buns on a pew each Sunday.

Lola: Isn't that a little petty? I mean, for the risen Lord and all?

PAT: Unfortunately not, Madam. He takes these things very seriously. Granted, not as seriously as Allah, but, well, pretty seriously.

Lola: Hmm. So, I guess I'm screwed, huh.

PAT: Oh, you have no idea, Madam. Now, how would you like to take it?

End Scene.

Is It Me?

I know my more political posts don't go down as well as some others, so I'll keep this brief. But the report that an Iranian newspaper is sponsoring a comeptition for the best cartoon denouncing the holoc*ust just has me losing the will to live.

I don't get it. Really I don't. It was just a few cartoons, and most of them weren't that funny or even all that comprehensible. I just cannot see what the all fuss is about. Quite apart from the fact that the disproportionate response (which itself proves the point that at least one of the cartoons was making about the apparent predilection towards violence demonstrated by certain factions), you have to wonder how the demand for religious respect while simultaneously reviling two major world religions on a daily basis can be squared.

And now, in addition to setting fire to other people's property, endorsing the murder of infidels, and generally demonstrating an all-emcompassing lack of both perspective and tolerance, some M*slims have decided to lash out at the Danes by, uh, having a go at Isr*el and pissing on the Holoc*ust. Um, yeah, okay then. That makes sense. I really hope the global J*wish community has the sense to just ignore it. It's not even worth the effort of being offended it's so mind-numbingly irrational.

Even if I don't necessarily understand why, I absolutely accept that these cartoons may have been offensive to some. A little like the video I had the misfortune to see the other day depicting J€sus in a loincloth singing I Will Survive, which was, I assure you, not that funny and actually a little sick. The difference is I did not immediately go out and set fire to something. (The WORST reaction to the video was the comment left by a viewer in the form of a prayer asking God to take the lives of those who bl*sphemed the lord: thereby demonstrating possibly the most unreservedly flawed understanding of Chr*stianity, I've ever witnessed, and far worse than a prancing m*ssiah in a nappy. But I digress.)

I have to confess that I am finding my own tolerance sorely tested in the aftermath of these cartoons. The fuckwit who decided a good protest would be to dress up as a s*icide b*mber in central London actually said, when issuing his half-arsed 'apology': "Just because we have the right of free speech and a free media, it does not mean we may say and do as we please and not take into account the effect it will have on others." Um, actually, yes it does, dude. That is the cost of freedom of speech and that is the precise reason that we have to strive to be moderate in our reactions to speech that offends us.

I treasure freedom of speech. Unfortunately, having it means I have to put up with those who wish to protest against these cartoons, or at any rate those who do it peacefully. But I don't have to like it. And I don't have to be quiet about it.

PS. I apologise for the liberal use of asterisks in an effort to avoid being Googled for all the wrong reasons. Normally, I don't bother, but I'm actually a tad worried about being tracked down by some of these lunatics.

Dear Lola

This was sent to me by Lorem:

DEAR ABBY: My friend -- I'll call her "Dina" -- has a difficult time
getting pregnant. All the tests she had done came back normal. They
can't find anything wrong with her, but she can't conceive. Dina does
not want to adopt. She loves kids, but she wants one of her own.

It is very difficult to tell her to relax and take it easy. I tried
telling her that, but she keeps getting frustrated all the time, and
now it's affecting her sex life and her marriage. Any ideas? --
CAREFREE IN SEASIDE, CALIF

Jee. SUS. Seriously, Jee. Fucking. Sus.

Oh, POOR YOU, Carefree! I am so SORRY that you are feeling so pained by your neighbour's reproductive failure. How incredibly selfish and rude of her to make you have to acknowledge the unpleasant truth of infertility instead of keeping it hidden away so you and your Carefree life can pretend it doesn't exist. Nasty, horrid little things like an inability to conceive? "For God's sake, just adopt," I bet you're thinking.

"It's very difficult telling her to relax and take it easy." Really? Probably not as difficult as it is for her to HEAR that YET again from some half-witted ignoramus twat who hasn't got the first flipping clue about how gut-wrenchingly, heart-rendingly sick she feels when her body fails month after month at something that is supposed to be the most natural thing in the world. Probably not as difficult as it is for her when she struggles with the existential distress of that unshakeable feeling that somehow she is not a 'real' woman. Probably, just probably, nowhere near as difficult as watching her marriage suffer and still not being able to free herself from the despair and frustration and anger and fear that rears up at the sight of every blood-sodden tampon.

Perhaps you are well-meaning. But you know what? That doesn't excuse your breathtakingly arrogant assumption that you need to 'fix' your neighbour. What in God's name gives you the right to advise her? What makes you think that you, in your suburban wisdom, must find some way to make her 'relax' and 'take it easy'. Mabe she doesn't want to relax. Maybe she confided in you because she was looking for someone who would tell her, "It's OK to freak out a little. Talk about it if you want to, honey."

GOD this makes me mad, people. Stop living with your heads shoved up your backside. There is a big world out there and a lot of it is full of other people's misery and worries. The way to make it better is to TALK to them about what they are going through, understand how they are feeling without trying to make them fit your idea of how they should be feeling and what they should be doing. You can't fix it. Don't try. Just be there without having your own agenda. It's not that much to ask.

Abby's reply was as follows:

DEAR CAREFREE: Your friend's problem is more common than you may
think. Telling her to "relax and take it easy" was the wrong thing to
do, however well-meant. She is hurting, and every monthly cycle that
goes by is a reminder. Much as you might like to, you can't make the
situation "better."

My advice to you is to suggest that Dina and her husband talk with a
fertility specialist, and possibly a psychotherapist, to help her deal
with her pain, frustration, disappointment and anger.

And you know, fair enough: she hit the main themes. But don't you wish she'd have asked me to respond instead?

How 'Bout One that Says 'Halfwit', Right There on Your Forehead?

I am utterly speechless:

http://www.thekansascitychannel.com/news/6447791/detail.html?rss=kc1&psp=news

Honesty Pays, Though Apparently Not Enough

At the risk of diluting the impact of my last post...

Could somene please tell me where in this article Michael Bolton says anything approaching "Yup, I'm a-getting ready to wed this here lump o' sugar". Yet the first line of the article states very decisively that Bolton was hinting at just that.

Really? Where, pray tell?

Honestly, it pisses me off how the press just fabricate things to suit their own agendas. Of course, why anyone should even give an airborne fuck about whether Michael Bolton and Nicolette Sheridan are going to test-drive holy matrimony, I don't know. (Yes, I know my position is undermined by the fact that I was reading the article. Don't judge me.)

Anyway, this is less a comment on the nuptial fortunes of La Bolton and La Sheridan than a scathing, if briefly worded, indictment of the modern press. Woodward and Bernstein would have groomed an informant who could have given us the inside track not only on the possibility of a wedding, but also the potential political and social ramifications in LaLa Land. These days reporters can't even be bothered to shore up their creative writing with the old chestnut "Friends of the couple said that..." Nope, just fling out a statement and write the article without offering even a whiff of corroboration.

Seriously, it's not a big deal when it's a story about celebrity relationships, but what am I supposed to think when I read about Bird Flu, government corruption or, God forbid, the latest scientific 'research' that suggests that sheer determination can stave off a miscarriage? I'll tell you what...it makes me believe this story.