Morgenstern, my journey with IPL begins and HOUSE CHICKENS!

So I was reading this blog here because I have nothing better to do than cyber stalk people that I don't know IRL but are somewhat close to me (helloo gumtree, I know what you guys are selling!) So yes, I'm reading this blog and it appears to me that I've neglected something important. Apparently everyone needs to know what I'm currently listening to. So here goes. I hope you all knew I was this weird before posting this.

Brain Error-Nekromantix
Jonathan Davis/TheCure-Make me bad & In between days
Die Antwoord-Expensive Shit
Rammstein-Gib mier deine Augen
Oomph-I'm going down
Oomph featuring Nina Hagen-Fieber
Apocalyptica featuring Nina Hagen-Seemann
Devin Townsend Project-Vampira
Feuerschwanz-Zehn kliene Ritterlein
This 'Nosferatu Tribute'

That is a pretty strange mix, I'll admit.

Music has always heavily influenced my life in many ways. I must say that Rammstein has had, by far, the heaviest influence on my life so far. Where would I be if I hadn't heard the song Amerika when I was 16 and asked my uncle why they sang about my country that way? For certain that song opened my eyes to corporate greed and how it had taken over the world, made me doubt a little bit that not everything was apple pies and sweetened iced tea.

The song that's been overplayed and exhausted in my house and is finally coming to the middle chorus in my life is Rammstein's Morgenstern.

"She's so ugly that it gets dark 

when she looks into the sky
Then the light is frightened
It shines into her face from below
So she must hide during the day
She just doesn't want to scare the light
She lives in the shadows until the glow fades
She sees a star shining in the twilight and pleads
Paint beauty onto my cheeks

Morningstar, oh shine
onto the visage of mine
Cast a warm light
onto my frightening face
Tell me I'm not alone
Ugly, you are ugly"

This is my song, especially at the moment when I'm dreading tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'm going to my first appointment for IPL to get the hair removed from my face and I'm not so sure it's going to be a walk in the park. It's definitely time for it, Janine and Alan have stepped up to help me on my journey into hair-free land and I could not be more grateful. It is ungodly expensive and the manager of Smooth Synergy assured me that since the hair is caused by hormones that it is definitely not 100% but it will cause a huge reduction and she would know because apparently she could have grown a goatee in high school. Well that is definitely reassuring though because her face was as smooth as a baby's bottom, let me tell you.

END DEPRESSING POOPSIEDWABBLES

　 ／l、

ﾞ（ﾟ､ ｡ ７

　l、ﾞ ~ヽ

　l、ﾞ ..ヽ

　じしf_, )ノ

THIS IS THE STORY OF A NAUGHTY BURDEN 
(bird+chicken=burden)

Once Upon a time there was a mob boss named Little Boy and a mob wife named Bearded Lady. They loved each other in the way that only chickens can love and took many dust baths together through out the day. 

Lady was one tough little chicken and was top girl in the Naked Neck pen, even though she herself was indeed not so naked. She protected her eggs and once she found out her spot was discovered she quickly found another place to lay in peace.

Until the Giant Human Person came along and found her secret nest, chock full of goodies!

 Blackie has become the resident house chicken and lives in her own private condo above the rabbit's hutch. She comes in through the door at 5:30 each night and peeps loudly on the kitchen floor until we give her her own private dinner. That night it was bits of bread with milk and tea. All over my floor. -loud beak wipe-

 Megan also gets fed and spoiled to hell sometimes;karma for years of canned tuna with ramen noodles. Thanks Sun and Christine, we had a great night :)

The best anti-depressant is chicken shit.

Sometimes life is pretty shitty poopy meh BLEH.

Mind you, my life has vastly improved at a substantial rate the last few years. But for awhile there I just didn't want to get the fuck out of bed and if I did get out then all I'd want to do all day is crawl back in and wait for my sub conscious mind to make acid dream fairy tales for me. For a few years I was in alot of pain from an old neck injury and it all escalated  to the point where I tried to quit my job and could only work 1 or 2 days a week at one point. Even then I'd be down and out with massive migraines, popping panamax candy pills 3 times a day and relying on a steady supply of vodka to help me forget how much I hurt and to help me sleep.

I was not good company at this time. My husband is a brave man but sometimes I think I really exhausted him. Thank god I have alternatives like work husband (Joe), cat husband (Crunchie), rooster husband (Little Boy) and chiropractor husband (Ryan).

Thank the gods that my chiropractor fixed me, after months and months of treatment that started at twice a week and are now once a month; finally! I'm super excited to be testing my strength as of late and was able to haul dead trees around the property last weekend, carry 25 kilo bags of chook feed and carry in the gas bottles, all without screaming "JARRAD!" Which became Connie and Fiona's favorite line before they left for Gingin :P

Anyways, I went to my doctor to be taken off of the sleep aid/pain killer/mild anti depressant (Endep) that she'd put me on and asked for a real anti depressant. Going off of Endep was a step in the right direction as I found out that it was keeping me from really being awake at all. I felt groggy and depressed for the first 6 hours of every day and while it did help me communicate more, it was only really effective for the last half of the day. So I went off of it with my new script in hand and waited for the drug to wear totally out of my system, taking about two or three weeks where I developed an awful stutter as a side effect of coming down.

So did I really need an anti depressant? I didn't want to and became quite stubborn to the idea as I came more and more into myself. So I'm naturally shy and a modest, moral, yes-man. I've been making the point to become the loudest, most out-spoken and most sure of myself person that I can be. Baby steps here, baby steps.

So I sit here with an unopened white box of Escitalopram next to me. It feels like a small victory to me. I feel like I'm growing into myself. Growing up to be the person that I am meant to be.

Alot of people ask me why I don't go to school and don't I want to be a teacher or doctor or a lawyer? These are not the things I wanted to be when I grew up. When I was growing up I wanted to be safe, married to someone I loved with my own house and a big backyard and have lots of animals. Guess the fuck what?

I have everything I've ever wanted. Even if I don't have some crazy glamorous life style I feel like I'm living the dream here. Surrounded by too many highly flammable trees and way too much chicken shit.

Up at 7 AM from all the racket, the chickens watch as I pour my morning coffee.

 ^Chickens are nature's anti deppresant^

Oosker (Oscar) and his girls.

I put the plastic egg in there and a week later they seem to get the point.

Lady's first eggs, waiting for the incubator.

Me trying to drive Jarrad out of his mind :)

^Living with other people is also an awesome anti depressant^

(Especially when they cook Korean food for you)<3

Sometimes Etsy is just really freaking awesome

Now Megan aren't you totally broke and sometimes even thinking of scraping up your own chicken shit into bags and selling it as garden fertilizer? Well, that is sort of correct..the huge purchase of a car a few weeks ago has left us eating rice and noodles b-b-but..this sign was just so freaking cute!

A few weeks ago I made a custom order on Etsy because I saw this lady doing signs super super cheap ($4, can't beat that) and I have no talent whatsoever so I'd rather buy these sorts of things. I got two signs actually, one got thrown in as an extra gift, pretty lucky! I think she felt bad about the crazy shipping rates.

Because I'm so classy I put them up by my front gate. Sort of matches :)

Maybe I'll paint the posts pink to match.

Taking this picture was hell for Jarrad. "Left, down, up, down alittle, up."

In conclusion: if you're as talent-less as I am and you just love this little chickens to death then you should go buy or just order a sign at this Etsy shop. The shop owner was a joy to chat with and copied the chickens from pictures I'd sent her off of my blog. Accurate down to the last little feather, I'd say.

So yeah, stop buying things online because that makes you poor :/

Someone buy me this shirt when it comes out so I can further terrorize my workmates with my chicken obsession. I'd like 7 of them please, one for every day of the week :)

Instant Karma:What Happens When You Leave Your BFFL Behind/Chicken Drama

I left my best friend behind when I traded her and everything else in my life to be with my husband.

I thought there was nothing left in America for me, there is. When people ask when I'm going back I usually say, "Never, there's nothing there for me anymore." But there is, and she's more important to me than any family I've ever had. There are alot of things I wish I'd said and done and alot of things I wish I hadn't. Having no car really brings a strain when you're trying to move to a new country and I really stressed our friendship to the limits in the last month I was there. I'm really trying to drive now, Jarrad and I bought an automatic last week and I'm trying my best to get over my stupid fear. Whenever I call her she seems really distant, maybe she grew out of using the phone, maybe she grew out of me, I don't really know because I haven't spoken to her in months now. I have alot of nightmares about calling her or showing up back in Ohio and trying to track her down and it's hard. It's hard to make real friends in a new country. I'll always be different here, a little bit alienated from everyone else, need just a little bit more zest to socialize with people.

So my karma for leaving her behind is me working at the packing shed, where I make easy friends with back packers who leave in 2-3 months time. Lisa, the German girl who was staying here moved out last week and it's been a bit rough adjusting to her sudden loss. No longer can I 'Google der Vogel' or 'Fick die Pflaume.' I can however, share this wonderful recipe she taught me, called 'drunk ass cupcakes.'

And Harry totally made me Kimchee and I love her.

My methods of coping have been extreme and have driven my husband to the limits of his sanity. Every weekend is now spent shoveling gratuitous amounts of bird shit and recording the latest escapades of Crossie, Straighty, Blackie, Whitey, Big Red, Frizzle the frizzle, Star, Spangled, Penny, Oscar the Oosker, Raggedy Anne, Things 1 and 2, Baldy, Little Boy, Bearded Lady, Bitch and Runty. Jarrad has had enough of the birdy shenanigans. He is up to his neck in chickens. It all came to a head when he caught me trying to glue feathers to his ass at 3 AM this morning. No matter how loudly they crow, humans are not roosters.

My new favorite couple, Little Boy and Lady, sharing a meal.

This is what True Love looks like.

Star and Spangled, also known as Dumb and Dumber. Sure looking like cockerals :/

Penny, who has to deal with their shit, poor thing.

Big Red, looking extremely magnificent. Them feet feathers.

 Sometimes things are not always right in Chickendom. I also have a flock of Araucanas but they are extremely raggedy looking at the moment so I'll post their pictures after they feather up a little bit more and I get rid of their scaly leg mites. Chickens are not always easy. The avian respiratory infection swept through our little flock and even though we went to the vet the very next day it still killed little Patches, who we buried under the lime tree that she used to dust bathe under.

We missed Patches for a night and found her the next day, as Red went looking for her and got stuck behind a gate but made a whole lot of racket. Jarrad found her by nearly tripping over her, as her eyes were completely swollen shut by the infection, she'd been so blinded that she couldn't find her way to food or water. When we picked her up she was light as anything. We settled her back into her cage where Blackie found her and they started to desperately communicate with chirps and whirs. Blackie showed Patches where to get food and water as we looked on and they slept together in a corner over night. In the morning I made the vet appointment and packed Patches into the carrier before noticing that Blackie had been quickly and heavily infected over night. Together they went to the vet. Together they lived in the carrier another day before Patches passed away. Blackie is the happiest and friendliest little chicken you've ever seen now. Her and Crossie run together with the main goal of stealing all the grapes and driving the naked necks out of their god damned minds.

Baldy is our other survivor, who at four or five weeks old stuck her head through the cage and scalped herself from head to neck so badly that you could count the vertebrae.  We weren't sure if she'd survive but with love, betadine and Hydralite, has come through to make the most mischievous bird you've ever seen. Baldy belongs to none of our 4 flocks and prefers to roost in the tree outside our kitchen window at night, about 6 meters off the ground, the little shit. Baldy has even coerced Frizzle into roosting with her, though Frizzle only gets 3 meters before getting caught by the human giants and rammed back into the silkie cage, thought the lady doth protest very loudly.

Blackie, our little fighter. Survived an upper respiratory infection. Would like to know what that camera is please.

RIP Patches.

Treating the chickens for scaly leg. Ew, Vaseline. 

Frizzle and Baldy. 

 But chickens are not always sad, where there is death and pain there will also be found life and joy. See below for references.

Crossie dust bathing with Whitey and Straighty.

Little Boy, waiting at the door for expected treats. Knock-knock.

Fuck Cirque du Soleil.

 Last but not least I'd like to give a congratulations to Emily who made 40$ on this beautiful splash cockeral at the Brunswick poultry auction. Totally jealous but I'm up to my neck in chickens now. Anyways I got Frizzle, Penny, Star, Spangled and Lady from the auction. That's enough birdys!

Bring moar bridys.

Also go see Janine's blog because Henrietta had babies! That would be Wyandotte, Orpington, Silkie crosses o.-

Alsoly alsoed; if anyone cares, Lady is a bearded splash araucana crossed with silkie, as you can see by her circus freak 5 toes :)

Where the hell does IGA chicken come from?

UPDATED

IGA roast chooks are Steggles brand

http://www.smh.com.au/business/steggles-free-to-roam-chicken-cramped-in-sheds-court-20130709-2pnlv.html

Why am I only paying 11.99 Australian dollars for a butchered, seasoned, cooked chicken?

When I bought my 4 week old naked necks they cost me 20$ each, the 4 week old silkies 10$ each.

What do they have to do, what kind of chicken do they have to raise, factory standards apply, what kind of laws and regulations govern a system that makes a 11.99$ chicken available for me to grab off the shelf and feed to my family?

I am passionate, but also quite lazy, so I'll take you on a short journey of the links I've followed to try and get a straight answer.

IGA Sustainability Consumer Information Page

"Metcash supply fresh chicken products direct from suppliers to IGA stores that choose to purchase them"

On this page IGA goes on to say that they, themselves do not raise nor cull the chickens. Okay, that figures, they'd have alot of work on their hands. So who supplies the chickens, where do they come from? Aha, these guys!

"It is important to note that IGA stores are independently owned and operated, and service the needs and wants of their consumers. Each store makes their own purchasing decisions, which is driven by customer demand and delivering a range that suits their needs and the needs of local towns and communities.   

Consumers can also ask their local IGA directly if they would like to see a certain product in store."

Okay, will do, buddy. Next time I go in their I'll point to their "Fresh and loca produce!" sign and ask them if they also supply local meat products. 

Metcash Food & Grocery

"MF&G is a marketing and distribution specialist, supplying dry grocery and fresh foods to independent grocery stores."

So these guys are just a huge distribution center, basically. I'll assume that means they get the food from a hundred or so other sources, buy it, ship it, package it as cheaply as they can and sell it to other retailers.

Lenards and IGA

And then you have this page, which seems to state that Lenards chicken is also supplied by Metcash. But if you go here:"You are here: Home > Chicken Facts > Our Freshness Guarantee Okay, well here they just go on to say " At Lenard's Chicken we use only the best and freshest. In fact, we take it so seriously that we guarantee it.

That's why we use healthy barn-raised chickens, with no added hormones or steroids.

And because we make our products fresh right here in store with quality, naturally delicious ingredients, we ensure you get the very best every time.

So if you're not satisfied that we're delivering on our promise, ask for your money back.

For more information on our chickens, our ingredients or nutrition please ask our friendly staff in store or reveiw Product Details here online."

Well that doesn't tell me jack shit either, and these people really seem to be giving me the run around.

TLDR: Most IGA's get their chicken from Metcash(basically a big warehouse) and we dunno, lol, where these chickens come from and some IGAs don't get their chickens from Metcash so just ask your local IGA manager today!

In summary, I get no real answer. Until I find out how and where these animals lived and died I won't be purchasing whole roasted chickens from IGA, and will be encouraging others to find out their own truth.



Edit: I've taken a moment to write a quick note to the CEO of Metcash, let's see what he says. I'll keep you guys posted :)

"Hello CEO of Metcash,

I was simply wondering what you could tell me about where the company (who I understand supplies my local IGA) gets their supply of chickens from and what sort of further information I could get about the topic. For example; how are the chickens raised, what breed, what is their age of slaughter, are antibiotics used and  what are their living and slaughtering conditions?

Thanks in advance."

Coming out of the closet (bathroom) with my beard

So recently, if you are one of the 7 people who follow and actually read my blog, you may know that Jarrad and I purchased a house together. What you may not know is that we've invited backpackers to stay in our spare rooms. We have Lisa, a really sweet blonde German girl, and the two recent additions of Connie and Fiona, who I'm pretty sorta sure are Tai girls. They are also awesome because they love Crayon Shin Chan and recognized the figure I have in my room of him.

So I've been sprouting hair in the oddest places since I was about 11 but no place has been odder and more horrific than a manly little beard I've got going on, for reals. I was totally addicted to shaving when I was in my teens, and while you'd think this would help, it only serves to make the problem more obvious since industrious shaving habits create awful red razor burns and hair that grows back much thicker and much faster. If you check out the pictures of myself that I've posted on my blog you can sort of see the irritated areas around my neck from shaving but if I don't shave I would never ever leave the house. When there was no one else staying here I would plan my week around shaving my face, since leaving it for a day or two lessens the irritation caused by shaving religiously every single day. At the height of my obsession I would shave twice a day and still not go outside more than I had to.

It is really embarrassing to notice people looking. I was always called names like 'wolf girl' and 'ape girl' in school, before I learned to bleach, wax, or shave. The new backpacker lady staying, Fiona, seems to be quite curious, as I can totally see her checking me out out the corner of my eye. You sort of have to build up an immunity to people looking and sometimes I will just tell people outright like, "Hey, I have PCOS and I have tons of hair in shitty places because of a hormonal imbalance -insert awkward and comforting smile-"

When I was in Armadale there was a woman there that I chased down because she didn't shave and was around my age. I thought she was super super brave because of it, but she turned out to be a really ugly personality on the inside and I really felt sorry for her and tried to become friends only to be shut out in the cold by her. I understand that though. Sometimes I just wanna lock myself inside and never come out again. When I catch people looking while I'm waiting in line a McDonalds or someplace it is really hard to know what to do. Do I wave at them? Do I fucking smile or scowl or shrug? That is alot of the reason while I wear sunglasses in public places, I don't want them to know that I know they're looking.

So get rid of it, you say? It's expensive, I hear, and doesn't always work. Two weeks before I got married I let it grow out, hiding inside the house the entire time, and then took a train into Perth city to try and get it waxed. That was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done, going out with it very obvious looking like that. I remember huddling up in my hoodie and avoiding eye contact with everyone on the train. The waxing people were super friendly but no matter how hard they tried the hair just would not come out of my face and they finally stopped when it started taking skin. So then I had to march my ass through town and get back on the train with a super red neck and chin with awful, thick hairs sprouting out of it. Really wanted to pass out or something. So if you check my wedding photos the skin damage is there, though Michelle, Jarrad's bestie, did photo shop some for us :P

Anyways! There is no way to really wrap up this post, except to give the awkward smile I give when explaining the furrball issue :)

Also I'm super tired of explaining my anosmia to everyone, I can't smell!

The End.

P.S: Plucking doesn't do it for me, try plucking a hair from your husband's beard and see how he reacts to it.

P.P.S: Crunchie has also found something he really really likes about the new girls.

Six Soft Sexy Unsesexed Silkies

MOAR CHICKENS!

The two partridge girls (hopefully, am I right?) have come to us from Wendy at Mirasole Chickens, the same place Janine's silkies and wyandotte/buff orpington cross came from! The other 4 girls came from a real nice lady named Jaq Dhalstrom on Walkabout Farm in Donnybrook. One of the white silkies, fondly named Crossie, has a crossbeak and we got him/her for free so hopefully it doesn't die on us. Been reading up that you can shave their beaks back a bit with a fingernail file so hopefully that will do the trick. The cross beak isn't so bad that it can't eat or anything, a perky, happy chook.

Arriving home for the first time!

Such a hot day that Jarrad brought them to the AC.

Baby's first yogurt.

nomnomnomnom (Crossie top right white)

The children posing, aged 9 weeks old, HUGE!

Totally not spoiled.

Our backyard! Lookit the dam >:o

Matt and Kim dropped in for Xmas hello!

Skittles like "letmeinletmeinletmein"

Everyone chowing some yogurt, 11 weeks.

Runty being runty.

Bitch posing for the camera

So overall things are doing pretty well.
It seems like we'll never be finished doing anything in the house or on the property since we are not exactly break neck pace sort of people. Speaking of breaking necks I'm going for an MRI on Wednesday to see if there's anything causing my headaches and neck pain! It's probably all muscle related but wish me luck anyways, and pity me for having to take my tongue ring out and rejoin the ranks of the normals! Feeling quite exhausted of being in pain all the time, putting on a great big happy face at work, when I can work. I wish I could do a bit of writing but I'm feeling a bit sapped. Depressed! DON'TEATALLTHECAKEDON'TEATALLTHECAKE!