It’s taken me for fucking ever to write this post. Something happened in my head and I couldn’t figure out what was precipitating it. Then I concluded I was feeling fragile, not like a flower, like a bomb. Hence a couple of vexing nights back in hospital being pumped with narcotics and venom. I pleaded to be discharged mostly due to my impatience and vanity. Wearing a backless gown with my exposed derrière being wielded about is neither provocative or inviting. Consequently my latest interpretation of help from above is not a happy coincidence but a sniper on the roof ..read more

I write to escape, to escape the ambiguity of reality. But just lately I’ve been forced to endure ‘bloggers block’. And it’s goddamned wretchidly vexing. Because as a girl with an ‘almost’ fully functional brain, I can usually spew unsullied filth as swift as fuck. So much ironic ridiculousness in my mind but a confounding void in my thoughts.  I now find myself searching for a mind-blowing burst of inspiration. And so tomorrow I’ll be taking a power nap whilst my spectacular surgeon and his exceptional team re-enter my headspace on a crusade to ensure the cunt with no integrity (aka ..read more

I have recent evidence of this. A visit to the hospital where the menacing grumplestiltskin receptionist glared up at me, and growled ‘Yeah?’ I replied (in my impeccable English accent) ‘Hello, I wish to have my blood work done, do you perhaps have availability this morning?’ She swiftly perked up ‘Oh my gawd, I just love your accent. Are you from Australia?’ ‘Um no I’m from England’ I answered. But in my head I continued with ‘For fucks sake you WANKSTA!’ Screeching loudly she finished with ‘Wowza man, you sound just like that Mary Poppins.’ Thanks very much, I’ll take that, at best, as a b ..read more

A date with my oncologist… who meandered in and declared ‘Oh dear, you’re looking rather haggard, don’t you agree?’ Are you fucking kidding me? No I don’t goddamn agree! I might have brain cancer but I’ve lost 25lbs and I’m looking fabulous darling. He couldn’t shock me. It was my wedding anniversary and it’s been a heck of a year. All started off peachy, then became somewhat chaotic when Bambi (the bitch-cunt-whore) decided to join my marriage. We definitely weren’t seeking a ménage a trois. Well I wasn’t anyway! But she’d taken a fancy and was reluctant to leave. I booted her out but the thi ..read more

Last time I weighed 125lbs I was a 12 year old pre pubescent practising the art of kissing with a 13 year old French boy on a beach somewhere near St Tropez. Time moves on and I’ve kissed countless toads since then. But to be 125lbs again is kinda fabulous.. even if it is being caused by a brain munching cunt. Last week I went for an MRI. Not because of my scrawniness but as a result of Bambi fucking around again. My surgeon spotted a new bright light. I was hoping for a happy twinkly kind of light and not the dark cunty Bambi kind. And oh fuckerty fuck, the waiting game was painful and every ..read more

An old friend came to visit. When we were young I spent much time correcting her linguistics. ‘Are you feeling fat-e-guude?’ She enquired not long after arrival. ‘What the fuck’s fat-e-guude?’ I replied. ‘You know, fat-e-guude’ she said again. ‘Oh for fucks sake – you mean fatigued?’ The next day we cycled to the beach. ‘Wow, what a beautiful lake!’ she exclaimed after spotting a vast expanse of water. Incredulously, I responded ‘Are you insane? That’s the goddamn fucking Atlantic Ocean.’ Later in the week M and I were chatting about his old uni alumni. ‘What’s an alumni?’ My friend enquired a ..read more

Seems I get a couple of weeks between chemo sessions when my brain isn’t overloaded with fuckery so I can be normal (ish). I don’t feel the need to take a daily 6 hour nap and I have enough energy to hold a conversation for more than 3 minutes without yawning. I look for joy in food… Don’t find much, but it’s a better feeling than wanting to puke at the thought. So due to this unexpected lift of chemo fog, I’ve become curiously enlightened and found the answer to some therapeutic alleviation. It consists of 3 simple ingredients: love, positive energy and a sprinkling of fucks. That’s it. Numbe ..read more

‘You’re emancipated.’ M announced. ‘Cool, does that mean you’ll unshackle me and take the potato sack off my head?’ I replied. He corrected his statement. ‘Sorry, I meant ‘emaciated’. You’re emaciated. Oh and you’ve got wrinkly old lady armpits too.’ I found these observations both complimentary and contemptuous. Luckily for M my short term memory’s shot so I won’t recall such audacity tomorrow. On another note, the first chemo wagon rolled into town 3 days earlier than planned. I’d postponed and procrastinated but eventually threw down arms and surrendered. It’s been a grim experience. Surger ..read more

My godsons and their hot mama came to stay. Oh how I love them. But I was a frivolous hostess due to the fact that I believe my brain is missing in (mental) action. Every day I tried to play and every day I failed miserably. It feels like the sun’s shining around me but there’s a grey cloud directly overhead filled with dread and lethargy. I’m so fucking tired all the fucking time. Brain tumour fatigue really fecking sucks. So here’s an ambiguous question for anyone reading this? What’s your wildest craziest fantasy right now? Mine… A two week induced coma. Then when I wake up that goddamn lif ..read more