So, today I spent two hours waiting around Centrelink, only to be laughed out of the place because my husband makes too much money for me to claim anything... when did we start shitting gold bricks?? I must have missed that.
I will never get any money, even if I was studying full time.
I would however get money if I was a widow/divorced/married to a prisoner just released from prison.
Such great options.
I wonder if it would have made a difference if I had greasy hair tied into a knot with my tracksuit pants tucked into my ugg-boots, which I consider to be "Centrelink Chic" after seeing so much of that hot look go down around the place.
Then I get home and Lenny has spewed all over the carpet.
What is with cat spew?? it's never quite digested, and from afar - looks a bit like poo.
Here's a punk song for ya:
I love cleaning spew off the carpet
It's like poo but its kinda not
You better run cat
Cos I love cleaning spew off the carpet
(FYI - if you sing 'Carpet' with a quasi-british accent 'Carpat' it totally rhymes with Cat)