Ginger Nut

Ginger Nut

I just love being Ginger.
I’m special.
I’m unique.

The boys at school, they shouted,
“Hey darlin', geez a peek!”

I wondered what they wanted,
A sneak , a glimpse.
Of what?
They must have meant my tiny ears.
At least that’s what I thought.

Bastards!

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0054LNNIQ 

Loss

You know what Tam, I am always losing things? One of the first days I came here I lost my way and went into the wrong room. There was a chap already there so I introduced myself and sat down. We sat there for what seemed like an eternity and then I noticed that he seemed to be looking for something in his pocket and he appeared a bit agitated. I thought he was looking for a pen but before I knew it he was all red in the face and was actually seeing himself off. I totally lost the plot and told him what a dirty bastard he was.

It turned out that he was, in fact, another patient who thought he had hit the jackpot when I walked in. Seemingly, the day before, he had suggested that, because of the very close relationship he had with his mother, he would expose more to a woman therapist. When his dad died his mum had made him sleep in the bed with her because she was lonely.
I only know all this because later on that day I found a notepad with all the information on it. You guys need to be more careful in here or it’s your jobs you will be losing. Actually, when I think about it, I should have been insulted because, according to the notes, I reminded him of his mother.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0054LNNIQ 

Tears!

Le lacrime sono curiose non sono loro e potrebbe essere visto come un segno di debolezza? Sono le uniche cose che vengono fuori del mio corpo che io posso riconoscere il gusto del. Non vedo alcuna vergogna a leccare loro o basta lasciare loro gocciolare su una camicia preferita. Wouldn't really want to do che con qualsiasi altro escrementi vuoi? Bene non avrebbe mai, ad esempio, bevo mia propria urina e alcuni vedono benefici per la salute che ma poi lacrime non sono realmente dei rifiuti sono?

Sai che ci sono tre tipi diversi di lacrime? Ci sono basali quelli che abbiamo bisogno di tenere gli occhi dall'essiccazione. Se non li abbiamo sarebbe davvero a disagio perché nostre palpebre avrebbero bisogno di su e giù raschiare contro i nostri occhi, ogni volta che ci blinked. Mio Dio, potreste immaginare il disagio; Voglio dire che la vita è già abbastanza difficile senza lampeggiante a secco.

 https://www.amazon.de/dp/B0054LNNIQ

Soldi?

Lettera dalla Banca afferma che verrà ora addebitato $$$ se sto scoperti. Così il fatto che non ho i soldi in primo luogo non importa a loro a tutti. È accecante che se ho avuto un sacco di $$$ non avrei un account vuoto in primo luogo. Così che cosa fanno? Mi carica $$$ per ogni giorno che sono scoperto e ulteriormente $$$ per ogni transazione singola $$$ che esce di account vuota. Come funziona questo aiutare?

Chi capisce anche questo? Unarranged scoperto è quello che chiamano? Così, la gente che essi penilise e cercare di estorcere sono le persone che almeno possono permetterselo. Questo può derivare soltanto in ulteriore difficoltà per le vittime che sono seduto lì potrebbero essere depresso e stanchi, perché non hanno alcuna $$$, e quindi, woop de do, estrae una lettera attraverso la porta chargeing li più soldi per non avere i soldi. Così potrebbe semplicemente vogliono uccidere se stessi. Davvero, non solo vorrebbe uccidere te se non si poteva vedere un modo?

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0054LNNIQ 

About Me

“About Me”
A plain Glasgow girl.
An old Glasgow pub.
Come along and enjoy.
A drink and some grub.

This is what I wrote on my invitations for my 40th birthday. You see, I think of myself as ordinary, shoe size five, dress size 10, medium height and build. Get the picture? When I went to school on the first day I thought it was too posh to call the priest ‘Father’ so I just called him daddy, much to everyone’s bemusement. To be different, was to be bullied, so I simply tried to fit in. My bright, ginger hair was enough to contend with.
The four of us had, what my mum called, the ‘most special, magnificent, heads of shining hair’ and we had been ‘blest by angels’. Only one of us believed her though and that was me. What I did not believe however, was that I was born into that family. There had been some mistake at the hospital. Some day this would be realised and off I would go, into the sunset, to my actual kin. Until that day of destiny arrived the angels would take care of me, or so I thought.

Ciao!

Una ragazza normale di Glasgow.
Un vecchio pub di Glasgow.
Venite e godere.
Un drink e alcuni grub.

Questo è ciò che ho scritto sul mio inviti per il mio compleanno th 40. Vedete, penso di me stesso come ordinario, scarpe cinque, abito dimensioni 10, media altezza e generazione. Ottenere l'immagine? Quando sono andato a scuola il primo giorno ho pensato che fosse troppo elegante per chiamare il sacerdote 'Padre', così ho appena chiamato lui papà, tanto da bemusement di tutti. Essere diversi, doveva essere bullismo, così ho provato semplicemente per adattarla. I miei capelli luminosi e zenzero erano abbastanza per affrontare.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0054LNNIQ 

Libido!

Well, libido is one of those things that sound quite exotic, like a cocktail, or something that you would ask for in a posh restaurant or in one of those very la-di-dah designer stores isn’t it.

“Do you have any libidinous sweaters in stock?”

That’s just reminded me of a guy I used to go out with who would break into sweat at the thought of a kiss, never mind the prospect of a lustful interaction. Sex with him would have been impossible as we would have been slipping all over the place. The thought of him, naked, panting and dripping all over me gave me the dry physical, in all respects. Maybe it’s his fault that I have trouble enabling this most basic human instinct and need someone who can tender my fossil and agitate it into frenzy.

News!

Rusty Bernard lives in Glasgow and pretends it is NYC. She has been abandoned by her libido, hormones and children but still has her own teeth and a hint of ginger hair!

NBI have updated the first three 'Sessions' of my book because of the comments I have received which have been very constructive!

http://www.authonomy.com/books/19803/the-mental-pause/read-book/#chapter

That's why we are here and thank you for all the support and crits.

The cover of my book is my eye with Tam's clipboard reflected in it!

rustybernard@hotmail.co.uk
http://womenandthementalpause.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/RustyBernard

Tears!

Tears are curious aren’t they and could be seen as a sign of weakness? They are the only things that come out of my body that I can recognise the taste of. I see no shame in licking them or just letting them drip onto a favourite shirt. You wouldn’t really want to do that with any other excrement would you? Well I would never, for example, drink my own urine and some people see the health benefits in that but then tears are not really waste are they?
Do you know that there are three different types of tears? There are Basal ones that we need to keep our eyes from drying out. If we didn’t have them it would be really uncomfortable because our eyelids would need to scrape up and down against our eyeballs every time we blinked. My God, could you imagine the discomfort; I mean life is hard enough without dry blinking.

Education!

I loved everything about being in school from the stodgy food to the scratchy toilet paper. I changed school about sixteen different times and lived in approximately thirty two different accommodations in my formative years. So I am quite the expert in the field of education. Maybe someday I will write a book about it and could call it ‘The Value of a Veritable and Varied Education’. We were always flitting about and being evicted so I am also very adept at packing a suitcase or a box in a hurry.
Once, we packed up the whole house when my dad was at work and the only transport that my mum could afford was the scrap man’s horse and cart. There we were, going from the Gorbals to Bridgeton through the Glasgow Green. I was euphoric and pretended to be Scarlet O’Hara being taken in a carriage to my new home in the East end. That was a lovely day, although it was more ‘taking the piss’ than ‘gone with the wind’, and all the neighbours laughed their heads off at us.
When I was sixteen though, I refused to move school again. The authorities classed me as a fee paying pupil because I lived out with the catchment area and had to pay my own bus fare. I thought it was very posh at the time. I had been ‘classed’ for the first time! Only this time my carriage was a corporation bus instead of a horse drawn carriage.

Caring!!

Talking about caring, what kind of training do those despots on the reception desk get? Are they sent to Guantanamo Bay to brush up on their skills? If one of them had taken my order over the phone in the first place then I would not have had to suffer that entire trauma in the first place. I’m convinced that those tyrants all wanted to be doctors but did not have the caring gene. So instead they became dictators with the absolute power of prescription and appointment.

They sit there, with their phones and computers of mass domination, unrestricted by compassion or common sense and make the patients life a misery. It’s a wonder anyone ever gets to see the skill of a qualified, general practitioner. What skills do you think are important to be a good doctor? You’re a sort of doctor aren’t you Tam but you’re lot are more interested in statistics and box ticking aren’t you? Where exactly do you come in the hierarchy of doctor hood? I think personally that with all the cutbacks in the NHS that all the boundaries are being blurred. Nurses are doing the work of doctors and before you know it the doctors will e able to work on the reception desk!