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kidlet talk

So... ze saga.

I'm not sure how I feel about Azzy, and me being a step-whatever. I want this kid to have a good home, and a stable upbringing, but I know that means him living with Frank. I'm not sure Frank's ready for that (he knows he isn't) and I do know he feels guilty because he doesn't love Azzy. Yet. Come on, he's only known the kid two months at most, and Azzy is three. They have to get used to each other - he's not a newborn, and he hasn't had nine months to think and prepare. Hell, he didn't even want a kid. But he has one now, and he's not the sort of guy to walk away (as I told him, he wouldn't be someone I wanted to be with if he was) so we will have to deal.

As Frank isn't such a fan of the american legal system, he's a little leery of going through the courts; he knows it'll cost, but I think he wants the degree of security that the law could provide - at least it would give him grounds to object if Aimee turned nasty on him (which she could, has, and probably will).

But me me me. I'm just... on the fence. One minute I'm all enthusiastic and pleased - I want to buy Azzy books and teach him to read, and get to know him - and the next, I'm loosing my temper over something petty and thinking "what the fuck do I need with a kid. I've got shit of my own to deal with first". One minute I think it'll be great, maybe the three of us with our pets, playing happy family, and then I think there's no way she'd let him move here with Frank (with uni, I can't move over there, and I don't think I would, I like the uk too much). I honestly don't know. I've got to meet the kidlet; what I have to remember is it's not his fault - he's just a kid who happened to be fathered - accidentally - by my boyfriend, and born to a train-wreck of a mother.

I suppose sitting on the fence is the best I can do right now

good things

Aimee is moving off of F's sofa, and taking Azzy with her. Much yay.
I am seeing F in sixteen days.
I have exciting new hair.
I have a place to study at grenwich, and I have an idea of what other places I'm looking at. Now I just have to wait for the sixteenth.
I am seeing star and bunny and zoya on monday.
Today is mornmama's birthday. So I am going to go call her.

thank fsck

I got hold of F. Azzy hid his phone, and then he had to go see his parents. Evil child. eeeeevil.

repeat to self: I will love F's son. If he's F's son. I really really hope he isn't.

no more vet school!


for my thoughts on what i'm going to do.

also, i'm going to beat F with a stick when I get hold of him. When being the operative word, as I haven't spoken to him for four days, and his phone is off. Gah.


i get my results tomorrow - if i fail, i get kicked out of uni. And I can't get hold of F which is now pissing me off, as I feel a wee bit shitty (didn't speak to him yesterday either). He's getting the paternity test on A done tomorrow, so we should know if he's aquiring yet another responsibility by wednesday. I really, really hope this kid isn't his - I honestly don't know how having a three-year-old in our lives will affect our relationship, only that it will, and we've hardly got going. We had all these plans too, which will be thoroughly nixed - mostly to do with how if I manage to stay in vet school, we'd stop being long-distance by him moving over here, then travel lots all over the place and be generally a pair of dinkies for a good few years. A's mother is toxic, too, which is going to be fun. Because he doesn't have enough psychopathic ex-girlfriends to deal with.


Part of me isn't even sure if it's my place to speculate on this, if I should be getting involved. But, to some degree, I already am involved - I have ties to him, I'm his damn girlfriend, and I'm the one who listens to him.

I worry that F is being too... caring. He's the sweetest guy, really, he will do anything for those he cares for, but sometimes I think he lets himself be taken advantage of. Take saturday night. He promises to ring me - he's out shopping for Lily's birthday (Lily is Nancy's daughter, she's one - and Nancy is his ex/best friend). He then spends the night babysitting Lily. I try to get hold of him, and no answer. Fair enough, I text him asking me to ring me, and get a reply telling me he'll ring in a bit, he's waiting for his mum to call as his dad has gotten worse. In the end, he doesn't call, and I have to wait until sunday evening to find out what's going on, because he's at Lily's party all day.

It turns out that his dad isnt' worse, really. He just feels ill and frustrated, and he took it out on F's mum. She had a bit to drink, got into a fight with his dad, and then rings F. F proceeds to spend the night playing referee between his parents (while at the same time babysitting a one-year-old kid). He's shattered and upset, but puts the bright face on and helps Nancy out the next day while she entertains her husband's relatives.

Last week, F left his phone behind, dropped everything in fact, to look after Lily, because Nancy had to go an pick up her father from rehab. Literally left holding the baby for over twenty-four hours. And where the fuck was Nancy's husband - Lily's father - in all this? I'm not really sure. Apparently he was looking after his own son, but I don't think that's really an excuse. On my part, I had hysterics because I don't know where my own boyfriend is (although my first guess, "at nancy's" was correct).

Part of my problem, I guess, is that I'm jealous of Nancy. She's his ex, which adds a further layer of insecurity - and when he drops everything to look after her kid, gives her money to repair her car, and so on and so forth, I just wonder what the hell's going on. Yes, she's poor - she's on social security, goes to college part time, and her husband doesn't work all the time. But what about him? He's got a dying father, a long-distance relationship, and he's supporting a family that aren't his own above and beyond the call of duty (maybe this is me - I wouldn't know Nancy if she spat on me). He works a job he hates, at ungodly hours, and then spends the day too tired to do what he wants, or looking after others.

I'm just scared something is going to give, and if I have a go, then that something will be me - because I'm too selfish to accept that he's got other priorities. But he hasn't even bought tickets to see me, when he's supposed to be here in three weeks - and right now, he doesn't have the money. And he won't accept my help getting the tickets; he won't even hear of paying me back or buying my tickets to go and see him. I don't know what to do, if I can do anything, except just sit here and worry, knowing he's gone home from work to drink whiskey until he passes out.


The upstairs neighbour is arguing with the lady who owns the cornershop - and the nice lady next door has gotten involved. It's all because the cornershop alsatien, Max, is obsessed with Indigo, and hangs around my front door, and apparently, he shat there. Wanker upstairs is shouting "this isn't istanbul, this isn't the countyside, this is civilisation" (nice bit of casual racisim there, he's bulgarian, btw) and threatening to get a gun and shoot Max.

Apart from wanting to go out and tell them all to shut up (and perhaps suggesting the cornershop get Max neutered, which is half the problem, that and he doesn't get enough exercise) I don't like the idea of him owning a gun. He's enough of a tit without being an armed tit. He barged his way into my house a few months back, when Boy Wonder was here, because the outside drain in my back garden was blocked; I'd been at college all day, so hadn't noticed. He then bitched and complained; it makes no damn difference to him, except it's *his* waste water that goes into it. And his wife and daughters' hair that makes it block (although admittedly, the fig tree dropping its leaves in the drain doesn't help). Not to mention the fuss we had when my ceiling started leaking for the third time (after he fixed it twice).

I hate my neighbour. If it wasn't for the fact that everyone else on the street is so friendly, and it's a pretty ok area, I'd move.

what the cock is a xiphoid cartilage?

and more importantly, where the fuck is it?

Further questions:
1. eh? what pig practical and what exam? I love it when these fuckers do things like this to us.
2. does ketan know kilroy is using his notes?
3. is it me or have they cut out half our lectures?
4. animal husbandry mcq? cock off.
5. where the hell did the year go? I have six weeks until my first exam, and I'm fucked. Beyond belief.
6. So... what am I going to do when I fail again?

on the bus

Indigo went to the vet today. He was an absolute star - although he had to be lifted onto the scales (he's 33.6kg, for the record). He didn't so much as wimper at his injection, and was very patient. He was puffing a lot, mostly from stress - but he puffs a lot. As a result, they weren't sure about his heart sounds - they think he might have an emphysema, but he hasn't been coughing or sneezing. He's going back in two weeks for the next injection, and they'll check him over then.

When we'd finished there, we went to meet Mark and the uni greyhounds, Billy and Charlie Lucky. They got on fantastically - which was such a relief - and he even liked Mark! They had a good run around together in the park; we're going to do it again whenever possible - hopefully it'll get his confidence around other dogs up.

They chased a couple of squirrels and climbed all over the place - the park is on two levels - and Indigo followed Mark quite happily up the hill, and ran about with the boys. I'm so proud of him!

Before we went to the vet, I dug out his adoption papers - and found out he's four next week! And... I found his racing stats and pedigree online here - his racing name was "Kiel Boss", and he's actually Irish, with a bit of American in him too. The poor thing's been retired since 2005 (or at least that's the last race date they have) - he must have been in kennels for ages.

Anyhow, we caught the bus back - after walking down Camden Road for a way so we didn't have so many stops - and this grumpy old lady muttered that I should take him upstairs. Now, anyone who's ever been on a london double-decker knows those stairs are horribly, horribly steep. How the hell am I expected to get a greyhound up them?! Carry him? She then got shirty because he dribbled a little on the floor, not near her (ok, just under a foot from her shoe, but it was a couple of drops). I couldn't move, there were too many people by the doors. They got off - although I had to push through people to get any further back - and we stood in the wheelchair space. Indigo and I then got shouted at by another old lady who was scared of him and his teeth. Poor Indigo was just turning round so he could sit at my feet. She had a go at me and told me to take him upstair. I replied that he has a bad leg (which he does) and wouldn't be able to get up the stairs (well, down them actually - he would never have managed that). She shut up and just gave me dirty looks. I bet if he was a little pom or something "cute" there wouldn't have been any fuss - but because he's got a big mouth and comes up to mid-thigh he must be dangerous. When we got off the bus, an old lady made a fuss of him, which was nice of her and he was very good. I know I shouldn't take it so personally, but he's so gentle and shy that it just pisses me off when people act like he's a menace and I'm irresponsible for taking him on a half-empty bus.

To top it off, one of the shelves fell out of the fridge when I got back - and the jam pot smashed. I'm bleeding from the glass. Although my plaster has skulls on it, so it's not all bad.

the pile on the floor

so... waterstones is my evil arch-enemy in the cartoony version of my world, especially since they've taken to giving me a student discount. I've taken to stacking the books I have to read on the floor by my bed. In no particular order -

Zadie Smith - White Teeth
Jonathon Safran Froer - Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Angela Carter - The Bloody Chamber
Neil Gaiman - Stardust (I found a copy at last!)
Kurt Vonnegut - Slaughterhouse Five
Ray Bradbury - Fareinheit 451
George Orwell - Animal Farm
Richard Leakey - The Origin of Humankind (yay non-fiction)
Gregory Maguire - Wicked
Salman Rushdie - Shalimar the Clown
Bram Stoker - Dracula
Edgar Allan Poe - Spirits of The Dead
Carol Ann Duffy - Rapture
Christine de Pizan - The City of Ladies
Dai Sijie - Balzac & The Little Chinese Seamstress
Oliver James - They Fuck You Up

And at this point, I'm going to bed. Sleep well, people. Not neccessarily now - just when you need to go to sleep.