Been a while since I last blogged and this one’s probably a little overdue. But fuck man, it’s kinda hard finding the time to get these updates down on paper and that’s with me still only working a couple days per week. You’d think I’d have heaps of time on my hands but nah, not even. A slave’s work is never done. You’ll probably need about 15 minutes to read this so depending where you are and what you’re doing, ya might wanna grab a coffee or beer and settle in for a bit.
We can’t start this chapter without first mentioning one of Marjana’s workmates, Michelle. She absolutely loves her dog but it’s Michelle we call a naughty little bitch and not her dog but for good reason. Firstly, her dog is actually a boy, so technically he can’t be a bitch but also because it was Michelle who set up another GoFundMe page. Both of us (especially Marjana) felt like paupers putting our hands out when it really wasn’t that at all. Not that we didn’t or don’t appreciate it because we definitely do, as we appreciate every single donation sent our way. We’ve done our best to personally thank every single person and apart from a couple we couldn’t work out who they were, we did pretty well considering. Check it out here.
Y’all must be rich as wanting to throw money at us like that. Reminds me of my ol’ man-whore days but a lot easier on my body. Don’t get me wrong though because there’s still plenty of pain. Just a different concentrated kind of pain with longer lasting effects than that caused from standing under a dimly lit streetlight on a cold stormy night. That pain is of course cancer which is not contagious at all, unless of course you’re talking of the emotional pain in which case it spreads far and wide like an ol’ westy sheila’s legs back in the day.
As embarrassing as it is, the targeted total of $30,000 has well and truly been achieved and then some. As I write, the amount sits at $27,688 but so many have donated personally rather than going under the GoFundMe page, which leaves us richer than we’ve ever been in our lives. By richer, I don’t actually mean monetary wise. I’m talking about having so many good cunts in our lives that try and help anyway they can.
Our life would be heaps better without cunty cancer coming a knocking but it could seriously be heaps worse too. We are surrounded by people who genuinely give a fuck, want to help and do actually help. The love and support we feel is so so so humbling and makes us tear up whenever we try to disect it.
Remember too that this is actually the second GoFundMe page that was set up for us.
🙏 Thank you 🙏 Hvala 🙏 Thank you 🙏 Hvala 🙏 Thank you 🙏 Hvala 🙏
Moving right along though, I now need to let y’all know how bitterly disappointed I was when ‘No Bra Day’ came and went with what I would call, a very piss poor effort by many of you on this great day for all mankind. October 13 isn’t just about admiring the cheeky little jiggle of licentious tits or the teasing of perky erect nipples under a t-shirt. Oh no, it’s way more than that as it’s also a sneaky little reminder for you sheilas to go get ya checks and balances done. If you’re due for a mammogram, smear test, skin cancer check, bowel cancer test or even if ya just like the old school prostate cancer check for fun, the go sort that shit out man, please. Since drafting this a good mate has since been diagnosed with breast cancer, another has had a heart attack and yet another was admitted to hospital for some other fucked up shit, so very topical.
You know what else we did on No Bra Day? We went to visit our surgeon Peter for a bit of a catch up, chat and laugh. Took him a roll of sandpaper to top up his tissue tray for any new unsuspecting clients.
After that we went to see some radiation oncologist dude about options there and have since started and completed a radiation treatment plan consisting of five daily sessions and a few grand outlaid for the privilege of having Marjana’s life saved again.
For those who don’t know (and we didn’t really know either) radiation targets a specific area and is precise within a millimetre where as chemo shrouds the whole body with poison to combat cancer. This is probably better for metastised cancer like Marjana’s but the radiation was definitely needed because that cunt of an alien inside her bowel came back a bit angry and was bleeding and shit, so like a Wallabies scrum, it had to be stunted. That’s why the first wife was a little bit rooted for a few months, needing continual blood transfusions to top up what she was losing.
The ol’ laser beam treatment was pretty cool for what it achieved and how the process worked. Each treatment only lasted about five minutes before she was released back into my custody, usually for a sleep as it fatigued the fuck out of the poor ol’ battler. She felt heaps better than she did following her Chernobyl sessions but still slept like a… very loud train.
Here’s to hoping that radiation helped a bit sometimes experts with cool words in front of their names like Surgeon, Specialist and Bald Fat Cunt don’t always agree, but on this point we do.
The Mrs was really enjoying having time out from chemo though and after a six week break she was feeling flash as. Not too dissimilar to how she felt when she was initially diagnosed with cancer. Good, but could die any moment from her fucked up guts.
In other breaking news some fucked up shit went down recently that I’m not particularly proud of (said the spastic who has a mankini pic in this blog). I’d hung out a load of washing and the satisfaction felt when I stepped back was, to put it plainly, revolting. The strategic placement of each garment made for a perfectly filled clothesline without even one space left to spare. It really was a thing of beauty and moral corruption, for I should not be slaved so abusively. There is slavery and then there is slavery. Unfortunately, I’ve realised I’ve been moulded into the later.
Death is inevitable but when faced with it occurring sooner rather than later, the inevitability can be very confronting. Need to sort shit out that is a cunt to sort out. Things like finding a funeral director, purchasing expensive real estate in the form of a grave, modifying wills and a whole lot of other fuckety fuck fuck shit.
Looks like we found a suitable piece of real estate for when the time comes. Mind you it did come with a prerequisite that I share the space with her. I’m always up for a deal and a two for the price of one makes me feel good in all things beer, food and graves. Gotta be a good deal, right.
As usual we’ve been busy as fuck and as much as the first wife could use a bit of a slow down, it’s not really our style doing the living life approach to life. Made a point of catching up with our inner circle as much as possible and to that I say ‘Fuck yeah!’.
Spent a primo weekend down the Gold Coast thanks to our angel of an aunty Karen who offered up their apartment for a weekend. When we were kids, the ol’ lady would take us to Karen for haircuts and this one time she used a bladed weapon (scissors) and cut my fuckin ear real bad. But with the use of their apartment and the fact she has a genuine superpower of always remembering birthdays, she can sleep contently tonight knowing she’s now forgiven.
But anyway, back to the Gold Coast, one of us drank piss and ate decent tucker and one of us closed her eyes for half an hour that turned into a 12 hour sleep. I actually blame the Mrs work mates for that as we all caught up for a feed earlier that day. It ain’t the eating though, that makes one tired but a heap of sheilas doing catch up talking certainly does. It was a primo little lunch the Mrs loved that flowed into a relaxed weekend.
Dilan finally had his (Catholic) confirmation which my first wife wasn’t gunna miss for anything and proved that by turning up feeling a little bit shit with her chemo bottle attached. Was a nice little event and if anyone deserves to go to heaven it’s him ‘cos he’s a pretty good cunt.
A lot of that is thanks to Iona College where he spent his high school years. They’ve been the perfect fit for him and have been so good to us, not only with cancer but from day one. Iona College Rector, Father Michael came around for a visit, blessed our home. gave Marjana the Sacrament of Annointing of the Sick and of course we shared a mean as feed of lamb rack.
To the other spectrum, for some reason (called Kym) we ended up at a chicks with dicks show at Redland Performing Arts Centre (RPAC). The show called Dirty Laundry gave us a few laughs including the Samoan and Tongan fa’afafine built like front row forwards but after seeing their getups I’m kinda glad I left my mankini hanging up in the closet.
Then came Melbourne Cup day and again, Kym figured she’d take my cook along to a table full of sheilas and she covered the cost of the ticket. I’m not sure where my first wife found the shoelace she put on her head but she never fails to surprise me as she somehow managed to even tie the shoelace as if it was still on a shoe. Talented to the max, I reckon. Anyway, she went with no money and came home with some, thanks to their table winning the sweepstake. As me ol’ mate Scotty says, ‘Easy money’.
I drafted this blog a few weeks ago but yesterday we returned to visit to our surgeon Peter Yuide and lucky we did because a little look around his office identified something I could use to take the piss. A piece of art work that I believe was in fact a painting, which upon closer inspection revealed the coarse grit not too dissimilar to his tissues. Of course I raised my concerns with him.
Today we went to Chernobyl Day again and were almost sent away as my first wife had a fever last night that hadn’t dissolved. Apparently she’s supposed to go to hospital whenever she gets a fever because she can get all fucked up real quick, so we’re a little bit naughty apparently.
But she got her dose of a new concoction which unfortunately comes with bad pins and needles in her fingers, thanks to the make up of that brew. Our oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one can stake claim to the first of a few quotes of the day.
Oncologist: I’ll give you some antibiotics. You’re not allergic to anything are you?
Marjana: Just bees.
Oncologist: Ok, I’ll make sure they’re not bee based.
Next up was our surgeon Peter who mentioned something about someone being too scared to fart.
Me: Probably for good reason as I’m scared of Marjana’s farts.
We went to visit a good friend in hospital and used google maps with the generic sheila voice. Admittedly, I was a bit stressed from some other shit going on and got a bit pissed off because her directions were shit.
Me: Should have a fucken bloke talking, not this sheila. He’d probably ask me why I even need directions, don’t stop for instructions and just do whatever I want.
Part of a slave’s job, or at least this one’s, is to massage my first wife’s feet while sitting on the couch watching tv. This in itself most definitely crosses over with flow on effect of me also having to give her a back massage. Apparently I keep getting up for beer or moving to reach for a beer causing my dear ol’ first wife to become annoyed…
Marjana: Brendon, stop moving. You’re not a very good pillow.
Rather than taking a heap of tablets and pain killers, both of which are inevitable with modern day cancer treatments, the Mrs is keen on trying the more natural approach of CBD oil. In the old days we used to just call this hash oil but apparently I’m out of touch and it’s not quite the same. There are a couple of varieties including one with THC and one without. The THC one also treats anxiety but then ya can’t drive a vehicle. My dishwasher sheila doesn’t want the hooch version and neither do I because then she can’t be my sober driver. But either way, she needs to partake in a two week trial which has quite a bit involved in being accepted. One such thing is a memory test where a short story is told to her and questions are asked about it.
Me: You’re giving her a memory test? Just ask her anything to do with any date that I’ve pissed her off over the years, she’ll nail it big time, man.
The first wife has been in a bit of pain lately as feeling more and more of the effects of cunty cancer throughout her body. Yeah, fuck you (again) cancer. You suck.
Marjana: My back hurts.
Me: Why?
Marjana (gave me her knowing look of contempt): I have cancer ljubavi.
That moment made me cry.
Not wanting to finish on a sad note and for me the following quote is by far my favourite.
In her defence, Marjana didn’t want me to throw it in here because some might think she was being mean and I’m like ‘Fuck the cunts. Having stage four metastised bowel cancer is mean,’ so here it is.
For those that watch ABC news, you’ve probably identified that some of the presenters look or sound a little funky. Marjana was watching it and told me to come quickly to check out the spunky looking sheila reporting on something out in the field somewhere. I don’t need to be invited twice to perve on a good looking chick and not wanting to upset my first wife I did as requested and rushed to check her out.
Marjana: She looks way too pretty for ABC.
Me: Oh yeah. She’s spunky as.
Marjana: Maybe she’s missing a leg.
Fuck I laughed at that one!
For anyone even remotely interested, Bird’s still very much a cunt.
Cheers y’all and feel free to spam my window cleaner with messages of whatever.
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