Old man face plants

Over my almost year of blogging I have found that most of my blogs are written between 12 am- 4 am when I am unable to sleep and think that some people may find my thoughts somewhat of an amusement.

Looking back this time last year I was scraping through uni and jobless. Writing several blogs a week – like other bloggers who have nothing better to with their lives then blog useless tales about ‘how great it is to be a mum.’I on the other hand have tales about on-line shopping, boys, food and anything that has popped up in life unexpectedly.

So last week I saw an elderly man pushing a trolley and the wheel get stuck in the kerb then he went over the handlebars. Initially I was worried but then someone helped him up and I realised he was a dero. He was asking for trouble wheeling down a fucking mountain…. So I was allowed to hysterically laugh at the man.

So what’s the juicy goss you ask? I have been laying low in the ICU the past week catching an awesome virus from some exotic bird. Yep, I nearly died. Nearly fell off my perch, pardon the pun! I could have easily closed my weary eyes but instead I decided I must do my best to chat up the amazing ambulance and ER doctor even though they were insisting I was having a stroke.

I said to the doctor, when he asked me if II was pregnant… “Nah I haven’t been that lucky lately.” I like to catch them off guard. I’m barely conscious yet I still manage to humour the doctor chuckle – no easy feat…actually they were probably pity laughs now I think about it.

Who are the other glamorous men in my life? Oh there was the perfectly built man who came in and did a fire safety check at work, or the tradie I flirt with on the phone – who I know deep down isn't good looking and doesn't resemble Jason Stratman at all.

I have Steve the painter’s number. I literally have his hand written mobile number on a business card, no I didn't get it off the system I was given it and no I didn't Facebook stalk him like I do with all the trades… Bit hard when you don’t know his last name. Now I’m not calling the Scottish man named Steve but I like to know I can. I like that the ball is in my court. Yes, I wear the pants in this relationship.

Now before you go man Rachel’s blog is going downhill I would like you to take into consideration my ICU visit, my disabled brother, my depressed dad, my blind brother and last but not least my cancerous Mum. I feel as though my blog is like a reality TV show in written form and everyone loves a sob story. “I came on X factor to find my kids (the kids he abandoned 10yrs ago when it all got a bit hard)” – great guy. Actually I'd leave my kids too if they looked like that.

Maybe I’ll have a largie this weekend and get some juice for you. Maybe I can Geordie Shore this up a bit. Not too much though... I would prefer not to be 21yrs old and poo my pants.

YOUR THE BEST,

RACHI METS x