#61 Livestream link

Not sure if anyone’s ever really ready for a funeral and I gotta say it does feel like this Thursday’s celebration for Marjana was a long time in the making.

On Thursday it’ll be 12 rather long days since she passed and prior to that of course there was a three week wind down at the hospice, but we’re almost there.

I love this photo

If I thought the previous 60 blogs were hard to write, they ain’t got nothing on writing a eulogy for my first wife. Not only because I can’t say cunt but trying to fit her whole life into only a few minutes ain’t easy and in all honesty, I can’t do her justice like that. Actually, I could try reading her eulogy real fast like a racehorse commentator I s’pose. Yeah, nah, a few of ya will be looking around to have a punt.

But anyway, me and a few of our inner circle been working on the day’s events and unfortunately I now have a decent idea what’s required in organising a first wife’s Catholic funeral.

But we all gunna be there to celebrate her life and whether you’re there in person or watching livestream over a beer, I thank y’all in advance for even wanting to be there. For those watching online, unfortunately y’all gunna miss out on a decent feed at our Muddies Rugby Club. Sorry ’bout that aye.

QFES recruitment poster girl

Like most things we do, it’s a bit different to the norm and by that I mean most of it will be in English but some also in Croatian.

There’s a photo slideshow of family only and the reason for that is I just couldn’t risk leaving anyone out so took the easy option. It’s actually a nice little portrayal of her life with a couple of songs that may just help if anyone hanging out for a bit of a cry.

A few have asked me about a dress code. Oh man, I don’t give a fuck if ya wear a mankini (just don’t wear a lime green or we might clash). You can wear traditional black or you can wear lively bright colours or work uniforms. It don’t bother me none. Maybe just wear something comfortable. I dunno, up to you fellas.

I had my people talk to her people so we gunna have some our colleagues form a guard of honour which I am so fucking grateful for. It’s a nice touch, I reckon.

A very proud day for us all

It’s a bit of a weird one in a way as it ain’t really a traditional Queensland Police Service (QPS) service because she wasn’t a cop, nor was she a member of our Queensland Police Union of Employees (QPUE) or Police Legacy for that matter. She was of course a Queensland Correctional Service (QCS) prison officer and also an auxiliary firefighter on Straddie with Queensland Fire and Emergency Service (QFES). I’d try funk this paragraph up with some more acronyms but four is probably enough aye.

I do need to give a shout out to my QPUE and Police Legacy for being so proactively involved and supportive over these trying times and as soon as they heard about my Kastelanka’s death, they were straight on the phone offering help where it was needed. My team in particular as an entity has stepped up to the plate and then some.

What the above does show is how absolutely amazing our employers, management and colleagues have been with their support throughout. We ain’t at the finish line just yet but close enough that I can say ‘Fuck yeah! Thank you and I am forever grateful. Maybe one more ‘Fuck yeah!’.

Once again, the funeral details are:

Where: Star of the Sea Parish, 53 Passage St, Cleveland, QLD 4163

When: Thursday 10th March, 2022

Time: 11am

The livestream can be accessed on the day by following this link Marjana Winslow livestream.

Any issues or queries y’all got my number or ask online.

Happiness right there

# 37 The reaching of a milestone

Far out man, so much can happen in a month and heaps has since I last blogged. Hate doing these long catch ups as tend to struggle finding rhythm to make them flow from trying to fit heaps in. But that ain’t your fault; I’m the lazy cunt here, not you.

Because fuck yeah…

So what’s happened of late? A couple of Chernobyl days and the inevitable grossness that comes with it (including a chunder or two), I pissed off the first wife even more than normal and made her sad (not one of my finer moments I admit but I’ll cook you a mean as feed of scallops in exchange for your mercy, ljubavi), had us some doctor visits, some church visits and seen a man in a white cloak (a priest not a fucken straitjacket dude ya spastics), one child gained employment and another gained a title called ‘House Captain’ at school, a work visit and a little something called Marjana’s half century birthday celebration.

Anthony House Captain and his proud Mama

Wont go into all things but first up I’ll touch on the Chernobyl Days. As I pen this the first wife is catching Zs with both her drip feeding chemo bottle and our cunthead cat Pudding snuggled up to her.

Nobody knows better than a cat the positive effects on humans that cat cuddles, the soothing sound of their purring and that little kneading foot massage thing they do, has. And our pissing cat knows her mamma is a little bit sick right now.

Medicinal cuddles

Whilst on that note, not sure if any of you fellas heard of this thing called a cat litter box? Yeah, it has like sand and shit and does wonders for people dealing with cunty cats that piss inside on ones clothes. Quite and amazing invention really 😉

The chemo effects were knocking the ol’ girl around more than Jake the Muss so our oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one, has tweaked his warlock brew and taken out one of the key players; the cunty spew one apparently.

It’s a double edged sword though because although she’s no longer spewing like an unfit front rower at pre season training, we’re hoping the removal of such a key ingredient also wont inhibit her recovery.

On a negative note, that chemo piece of the puzzle usually takes a good 90 minutes to shoot up and with that now gone I’ve lost my blogging mojo. Along with the odd eyelid flutter and pat directed at my first wife I’ve lost a good chunk of genuine blog dedicated time. Might have to have a whisper to our oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one, about reinstating it. Hmmm…

Ol mate also allowed her to take an extra week off for her 50th birthday celebration. He’s a good cunt like that.

Took a little bit of effort to pull it all together but it turned into a fucking primo night. Was awesome to see those that turned up and the joy y’all brought the birthday girl by being there. Even if she didn’t get to spend much time with each of you, she seriously had a primo time and was on cloud nine for days after.

Woke up to a 50-year-old sheila this morning

Turning 50-years-old is a bloody good reason for a piss up I reckon and in this case even more so, ‘cos when this cunty cancer thing invaded our lives there was a time when we weren’t sure if my little Dalmatinka would live to be 50 years old.

But she did and like I told her this morning she’s so fucking spoilt because she’s still living, even though she’s now already past that goalpost. Might have to do what wives do to their husbands once they get ’em and change them, (move the goalposts that is 😉)

Photo courtesy of Kym Waldron

Apart from smashing out two bottle skulls and being reigning champion of our pee tree, my main party trick is feeding hungry cunts and I’d like to think that was accomplished quite nicely.

It’d be rude to not to mention certain people and specific gifts but I’m gunna be rude and not mention names because will leave people that matter out. But please take peace in knowing that each and every gift Marjana received was appreciated but not as much as your company on the night. Y’all deserve a ‘fuck yeah’!

Photo courtesy of Kym Waldron

For those that couldn’t make it, y’all just a bunch of cunts… but ya not really as we know you would’ve been there if ya could, if it wasn’t for things like work, international Covid travel restrictions and also attendee numbers also being restricted by Covid.

Heaps of thanks to all who helped before, during and after the party. Could not have pulled this together without y’all input. Anyone that helped is welcome to come around and drink some piss with me. My shout. Actually, fucken anyone is welcome to come around and drink piss with me whether ya helped or not.

How we felt for a few days after the party, deflated

A week before my cook’s birthday we tee’d up a visit to her work. Although she’s had untold contact with heaps of her workmates via messages, calls or visits, she hadn’t been to work since she was diagnosed with that cunty cancer. She was so looking forward to it and absolutely loved the visit and catching up with everyone. I ain’t never seen anyone so happy to go to prison.

Although I’ve been to prisons in my line of work I hadn’t actually been to Brisbane Women’s which is where my favourite vacumer worked, and the little tour was very much appreciated. Not only did I get to meet a bunch of Marjana’s workmates and guests of the Queen in their natural habitat but I now know what it feels like to walk the catwalk naked at a hens party.

One of my first wife’s mates asked how I felt about seeing inside the prison and your quote of the day comes from that conversation…

Colleague (asked via Marjana): How did Brendon enjoy his visit to the women’s prison?

Me: Felt like a chunk of meat.

Colleague: Hope it was a chunk of fillet steak he felt like and not chuck steak.

Me: A very soft tender piece of succulent meat that anyone without teeth could eat (you may have to visit to appreciate this reply).

Finally, if ever my Mrs needed evidence to prove I’m a dumb cunt, here it is. I made a couple more shelves, one that fit perfectly at the end of our hall and the other larger one was a left over piece to use elsewhere… Guess which one I [ut the legs on? #dumbcunt 😒

A somewhat handy but very much a dumb cunt