The Theft

Published November 24, 2025 by helentastic67

The Theft

Throughout the course of the week as I politely told friends about the theft of Hellonwheels, one friend I did not expect uttered the C-Bomb. You know the one, I’ll never utter the word in print even in this kind of context, but I will refer to it as rhymes with punt or UNT. When said friend uttered this word I cringed and shook my head. She asked if I was offended? I told her no but surprised she uttered the word out loud.

A gay male friend a little younger than me once said “It’s OK when you see your friend across the road and you yell out to them: Punt!” And all I could think was we have very different friends. I have a few friends who do use that word and I appreciate it in the context that it is used and allow it, but it’s not a word I use.

I did do a police report over the phone that day and eventually received an email stating I could do a Victims of Crime Application. Because I’ve all the time in the world for that. I have been advised I’m not likely to have it recovered.

So, by the end of the Tuesday I was a little calmer as I was consoling myself by suggesting there was a fuckwit out there walking around on two broken legs. They just didn’t know it yet.

I had at first wondered why someone would steal a mobility scooter. Getaway vehicle? Spare parts? Just what the actual fuck!

The problem if not obvious is the layers and complexity to solving this problem is so big. People would have no idea how hard it is.

I think there’s a whole bigger conversation about the word that rhymes with punt that is yet to happen. But I feel women should reclaim that word because it’s ours and we should reclaim it. If men think they can use that word because they came out of one. Yes, I’ve heard that line. No buddy! That’s not how that works.

Another carer and I were discussing while in her car one day that twenty years ago when I first moved to this area my voting enrolment district was called Batman. How cool is that? As well, in more recent years it was changed to Cooper. Boo! Because my carer stated bluntly, Batman was a punt. Which means he was a white early settler in this area who killed the original landowners in this area. So, punt indeed. Accurate.

Dear Channel 10

Published August 18, 2025 by helentastic67

Dear Channel 10

You fucked up! Not here to make friends just influence people.

A few months ago, people started reporting my favourite news program to be shit-canned. I thought there was time, not that I imagined I could influence some kind of reprieve. But only as a week later a deadline was announced and it was a foregone conclusion.

My favourite news program would include actual news, comedians and even musicians. So much wrapped up into an hour six days a week. I found if I was ill informed on a particular topic or just oblivious or naive it was explained in bite sized pieces so I could understand. I understood why there was a stampede at the Wall of Mecca back in 1015.

I know, what? There was a stampede where people were crushed and it wasn’t at some music concert or festival. But interesting and questionable how these happen in today’s modern times?

The most informed and completely unlike me individual host being Waleed Ali, someone I quote daily. He was often given the tough job to report like why there is another mass shooting in America. (he will start with how much he hates it) Because mass shootings generally don’t occur in Australia, we just can’t get our heads around why and how this can happen again and again and over again. Just how the fuck it keeps happening?

Have I mentioned we don’t have guns in Australia? Well, not like other countries at least. We have had some machete and knife incidents we are not well pleased with. You can search for Waleed Ali’s social media presence, but I don’t believe he has one. I didn’t check because it is well mentioned on the show he has zero interest in an online persona.

I believe he is part of a podcast which is something I don’t do. But in short, He is from Melbourne, Australia with Egyptian heritage. He was raised on Vegemite and the locally produced music program “Countdown” as I was.

He is actually younger than I am, by six years. I didn’t stalk; I just asked Google. Oh, he’s Muslim, which I am not. But in short, he’s a TV personality, Lawyer and sometime lecturer. I’ve met students he has taught. He’s married and has children. He’s a disability advocate and most importantly is credited by me daily for the line – “Bandaid on a bullet wound!” Because it’s often the best way to describe life with disabilities and how others try to shorthand a fix for a problem I must then revisit over and over again.

Anyway, way, back to how royally Channel 10 fucked up! Should I have premised this post with a swear warning? Or set myself a swear limit? As if!

I think Channel 10 executives were so trying to get the Millennial audience they lost the Gen X and older audience.

I mean, the Millennials as far as I can tell won’t take a job unless they get paid $100 grand a year and they holiday like retiree’s and spend their cash on smashed avo. But complain they can’t afford a mortgage or cover their HECS debt. They are not prioritising being sat home to watch the news at night they are out for dinner at expensive restaurants.

Had not intended to throw all millennials under the bus however, I spent my youth working and studying in the only course that exists where I wouldn’t get a job because I was a woman, a straight woman, without a car or a driver’s license. Ah, I am studying Visual merchandising. Because I didn’t get into what I wanted to study but I needed life to start in Melbourne, so I jumped. Had to get the hell outta Dodge.

FYI, Window dressing jobs at the big department stores were only employing older gay men! or when management was away, they might employ a female. I couldn’t do freelance without an ability to get around. (no car or driver’s license) And my photos didn’t turn out so no folio to find work.

I was also in my twenties in the 90’s when there was a recession. You grabbed any work you could find and you had to hustle. Hence, my commitment to Hospo and keeping myself busy.

Side Bar. I only learnt a few years ago when I was working in the club scene in my twenties I was working in Hospo. Which is short for Hospitality. I will circle back to this another day indeed.

Also, from what I can tell the Millennial generation is getting all their news from social media the algorithm’s giving them all the things they are interested and only that. It must be nice to have a belief system not based on history and legacy.

But going back to the stupidity of Channel 10 Exec’s? Yes, they bragged there would be a super awesome replacement. Paraphrasing somewhat. My bad, it wasn’t. I’ve watched it twice. It was dry. Bland and very boring. If I wanted that I could watch other channels. So, this now is to be replaced with a streamlined version of the 16+ year long program called the Project. When that will happen is anybody’s guess?

Expectations From Others

Published June 30, 2025 by helentastic67

Expectations From Others

Sometimes, there are little things about having a disability that you would never imagine or believe.

People will always imagine everyone treats me as a human being that deserves respect, love and support and that might feel fair and truthful for some of the time. However, on occasion someone you least expect will throw their emotional baggage at you they refuse to deal with themselves, I gather.

When I’m depressed, I hibernate to minimise fallout on others. I’ve found biting and hissing at others just makes them less likely to sign up for more.

It’s not for everyone. It’s not even good for a long-term solution for anyone with mental health issues. But I like to consider I’m taking responsibility for my issues and not projecting my shit on others. But other times, when someone wants to pick a fight with me, they will throw it in my face that I’m uneducated.

I’m sorry! Did you hear me?

About ten-years-ago I had an OT ask me “How far I made it in school?” I was offended. I finished secondary school. Then completed three years of Tertiary, Arts, sure, however, I’ve since completed a leadership course of which this blog was my project. I also did part of a Certificate IV in assessment and training but don’t even start me on that.

I never had to do a four-thousand-word essay until my first year of tertiary. My art history lecturer thought my presentation on Pop Art and the artists Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein was brilliant. I know it may sound like I’m justifying but!

One thing I would never do is kick anybody when I’m struggling so I feel better about myself. So, you may be able to tell I’m having a hard time.

Sometimes, being one-handed, having half one’s eyesight, not being able to see. Work catches up on me. And as per I’ve some blogging to catch up on. I really don’t like blogging as a reactionary measure because I like to let the dust settle but maybe I need to rant.

Then I foresee many posts to context the ranting. Alas, it is 12.30am, and while this is early, I feel I should call it a day. Unpacking this shit always feels like unpacking dirty laundry.

Another, I Don’t Know Who Needs to Hear This

Published May 5, 2025 by helentastic67

Another I Don’t Know Who Needs to Hear This

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if it’s not you, maybe somebody you know does?

Back in my twenties when other people seemed to have a new boyfriend or girlfriend every few months, I was very single. Not sex and the city single just waiting for my soulmate kinda single. Still waiting but this prick is so lost it’s annoying. Meanwhile, I perfected my empathy at the newly heartbroken with lines like “I never liked him for you!” “You deserved better!” Both goodies I still use to this day. So good are they.

On occasion, someone looks at me and asks if I really mean it. Honestly, I liked them until they gave me a reason not to. Now, you are heartbroken, so I really don’t have to think about them anymore either. I used this method with a good friend recently and felt the need to explain in all sincerity, I had liked his now “recent ex” up until he decided to leave him. He knew exactly how I meant it.

Even people who get it together and find their soul mate can’t keep it together and grow old together and I heard the enviable line recently, “Just get to the part where you sit on the couch, binge watch TV and get fat together!”

This is probably part of the reason I avoid dating. I mean, I don’t wanna do the cull the idiots from the one soulmate out there who is the one for me. Someone I’m prepared to get in the car and listen to music we both agree on for the whole journey and be interested in the, I’m just saying we have similar tastes and preferences. Been there. Done that! Not doing it again!

My last boyfriend didn’t appreciate my taste in music and the only common ground was when he suggested I put on the “soulful black man!” He was of course referring to Nina Simone. Who I pointed out originated from the country of his birth. You know those moments when you just know you dodged a bullet. Exactly!

Analogies

Published April 21, 2025 by helentastic67

Analogies

My brain is very busy with analogy’s today, it’s either a good or a terrible day to blog. So, we will see how it goes. You probably want an analogy now? You can wait.

I present really well for someone who’s had a brain injury for fifty-two-years. My carers tell me this all the time, because we discuss that in person, people are oblivious to what’s going on behind the scenes. But, in reality what’s going on up “there” feels like a bag of rattlesnakes. Thats 1 (Analogy delivered!)

I wonder if people realise there are days up “there” is like having five people with ABI’s, five people with depression or anxiety and five people on the spectrum in a room. Shaken and stirred, rather like the rattle snakes in a bag, right? And I suggest, within a few hours the room above will look like some kind of mass casualty has occurred. Think blood, trauma. Mass casualties, I realise, for many this is going way too far. But I’m making a point.

Up “there!” in my brain, there is so much chaos. Just anarchy, and I know it’s happening.
I just can’t stop it. It’s so busy I just try to get through the tasks as best as possible leaving as few people scathed as possible.

This is why people like me spend a lot of time self-isolating. It’s why we coped (apparently) better during the quarantining during Covid. It’s also, why we noticed how other people didn’t cope well during Covid. When I isolate too much, then when I do go out my brain is like “Oh my God! Look at all the thongs, the food, the people.

There are a people. What do you do? What are you peopling? Can I people with you? Let’s people together. Yes, we can.

Now, that is clearly an example. But we saw it a lot during the plague. Walking past chemists where I’d see a person behind the counter getting peopling, full blast by a customer out being around people for the first time in days. The staff members eyes flick out to notice if anybody out there that could save them. Is this even really happening? Am I the only one seeing this right now? Can somebody help me? And all of that is happening up there and on the outside, its Calm! Calm! Calm!

Everybody act calm and then, I think this is why I gift people treats a lot. It’s a reward, sure. But it’s my way of saying, you put up with my “Crazy!”

Later, I may stay away for a bit, so you miss me. Because you nipped at me and hurt my feelings. I try to bring a little funny, a little sass to everyone every day. But sometimes, others have too much owing on and it falls short. But this is why when I hand over a little love, I mean it.

R.I.P. D5

Published March 24, 2025 by helentastic67

R.I.P. D5

I would suggest this is happening too often already. You would think fifty-two years old, would be considered middle age as I don’t know I’m going to make it to one hundred and four years old, nor would I want to. However, people I love are falling off the perch already and it’s too soon. If you don’t know, falling off the perch is the elderly term for dying.

Apart from the passing in late 2022 of my father’s death and the recent departure of a very close friend, she’s not dead just not in my weekly routine anymore. I learnt a week ago a friend from my clubbing days in my twenties had passed. He worked for me back in the day.

I think we bonded because we were from a similar part of the Victorian countryside. While I moved to Melbourne at nineteen to study and work, he moved to Melbourne without the same kind of plan. Not in place anyway. When I asked him why, he responded with “I looked around and just said No!” with a little shake of his head. Like me it was just an instinct to get the fuck outta town.

Around 2000 I had moved back to the country, not born in my hometown but to a more isolated community where my mum and younger sister had moved to. I needed a lift to town and a V-Line bus to go anywhere further. It was hard.

Every few months I’d get back to Melbourne and couch surf for a few days, to go clubbing and catch up with as many people as possible. Going to clubs was the easiest way.

Standing in a goth club I heard this song, looking around at how many people were dancing and not recognizing it, I found D5 close by and he asked that I didn’t know who it was. I was like, “No! I’m living back in the country where you get fuck all exposure to new music” let along anything else. This song will always remind me of him.

I guess a warning might be in order. But the beat is really good.

I’m sure for most it will be a lot, but her wiki page is interesting, if you dare. If you don’t follow my blog for a little different, you are in the wrong place. Teaches of Peaches – Wikipedia

So, around the time of my fiftieth birthday, I sent D5 an invite for my gathering in case he thought to join. My father had passed earlier that month and for years we had drifted, but I always send him a birthday text as he was born on Valentines Day. Bit hard to forget that one.

He came to my birthday and we caught up a few times, I cooked him dinner, my single girl dinner reminiscent from my twenties and that Christmas he gave me a lift to my father’s house in my home town on the way to his hometown. So, we had a three-and-a-half-hour road trip to chat and for me to own the CD Player and have him guess what I’d put on.

Moments after he had left me at my dad’s there was a knock on the door. He was there holding up the black thumb cast for my trigger thumb. “Good luck thumbing a ride without that?” He was rather reserved and shy but when he shared his wit it was a treat for your soul.

While I didn’t see or hear from him often and there had been years in between when he had been married and doing his thing it was always a comfort to know he was out there walking the earth. He is survived by his twin and his cat.

He told me his marriage had ended like many during the Covid 19 lockdowns when couples were confronted with being around each other in close confines 24/7 apparently, they looked at each other and just both said No.

Now, alas, the world is bereft from his passing. He had chosen to fight his battle with cancer with only a small few aware this was his fate. He had told me he was dealing with something but not what. He was about seven years younger than me and the younger brother I never knew I needed. But our world forever better for the time he had been amongst us.

R.I.P. D5.

I am too young to be saying goodbye to friends

* D and the number there after referring to the number of Dave’s in the club days, I’ll cover that another day. D5 was a longstanding Dave and not to be undervalued despite not being D1- D6+ ceased to exist. Obviously, finishing today’s post without my regular cheer.

Circle Back to 2024 – Part 2

Published February 24, 2025 by helentastic67

Circle Back to 2024 Part 2

So, 2024 was weird also cause money became a huge topic and while I’ve always had an income from somewhere and five cents to my name it’s a weird space to find yourself in to have some actual money and options.

I wanted to blog about it last year but was up to my eyeballs in all the things, so had to let things play out and play catch up. This ergo-case-in-point is the catch up.

I guess, women of my generation, didn’t get educated about how to manage money. I’m Gen X remember. I did grow up with coins and handling money. My first paid job I picked up a yellow envelope with cash and coins in it. I had a paid job from around fifteen years old.

As an adult when you have household expenses you learn you need to have more coming in than going out. Sure, but on bigger expenses women my age was taught that we would marry and our husband would take care of it. Do you see me writing about a Husband? I have an Italian surname so it was largely assumed I would get a husband. Not bitter. Just making a point.

Some of the groups I’m in, some women will see and ask a friend who seems to manage her finances well and when asked she will be told “Oh, my husband does all of that!” So, it is to say I did consult a financial advisor. He’s in his late thirty’s, lovely man who I have not made proud. Yet. He wanted me to continue renting forever.

But as my next post will context women like myself when I reach sixty, are more than likely find themselves homeless. I’ve had to educate younger men on this topic.

I mean, C’mon! Do I have to do everything?

The Other Worst Week Ever

Published October 26, 2022 by helentastic67

The Other Worst Week Ever

So, this is the last post with the subliminal message, has anyone picked it yet or even noticed? Please comment.

So, last week was the dreaded week of my father’s funeral, worst day ever. First piece of advice, someone offers you tissues. TAKE THEM!!!

Even though I had a friend, who saw my support person handing me a tissue every other minute, it wasn’t enough.

All the talks-talks, song, light candle stuff for which you think takes forever, it’s over before you know it and I was almost left behind. I did the walk out metres behind his coffin and tried badly to not rush, while desperate not to do the ugly cry. You know the cry where you at least want to bury your face in a hand, so no one witnesses it. You know I use a walking stick in my one good hand right? Yeah, not helpful.

The Funeral Home director asked if I could walk over to the cemetery or if I would need to go over in a car. Wisely, I said yes, car please. He had not been offering me a lift but if I had not been helped into the front passenger seat of the hearse, I would have been left behind. Lovely driver Phil made small talk to take my mind off things. I tried to sell him Dad’s car. But alas, dad no longer has the Valiant Charger in Vitamin C orange. So, that was a fail.

With all the love and respect in the world, if I ever hear the song by Bette Midler, The Rose it will be TOO FUCKING SOON! Jesus Wept!

Second piece of advice, when trying not to do ugly cry, try breathing in and out of your mouth. Not saying it worked, but it felt like it helped. Lastly, my family gave me the awards Best Worst Ugly Cry and Best Worst Timed Ugly Nose Blow. Charming, no.

The night of the funeral we had a pool party with our cousins around catching up and playing pool. I have cousins I’ve not seen for 30 years. And the most common memory was dad teaching everyone how to hammer in nails into a small off cut of pine. One cousin who has become a builder wants dads hammer, but I have already laid claim to it. What! I think we made dad proud that night.

His house felt like a home because it previously felt like someone had been merely existing there. We will be there for this upcoming Christmas, so I imagine dad watching over us as he promised. I might convince a carer one day to hold a nail for me while with half the necessary eyesight I smack in the nail in the triple tap technique my dad used. I’ll explain that better another time.

On Sunday, two days later I received the award of 1st Caligiuri Daughter to surface and be reasonably functionable. The household likes to start the day with coffee. I made the statement I prefer to start the day with my own natural energy and you should all be aware I’m NOT A MORNING PERSON. I need to end the day with my Medicine (coffee) so I can get through the rest of the day.

I guess all the family dysfunction we put off dealing with for one day in the future comes to the foreground when the passing of a loved one happens. Now we have to deal with all of that too. While grieving.

A friend shared a perfect statement with me today “The Price of Love is Grief”

I know this is not a happy post, but I’ll try better next week when I reveal the reason for the subliminal messages.

Love and Drinking

Published January 27, 2020 by helentastic67

Love and Drinking

For someone who barely drinks, I have remembered this quote for a lifetime. I’m not looking for love at all. I’ve imagined love might find me. I’ve never thought to look for love or even just answers to life in a bottle. No judgement to anyone that does. I just don’t get it? I guess due to alcohol thinning one’s blood, drinking never made me feel particularly great. So, I’ve not given it a good hot go. I don’t think I’m missing anything.

STONE COLD SOBER

LOOKING FOR BOTTLES

OF LOVE

That reminds me to write the post about discovering the dark secret! It was the pro line for black opal Nera Sambuca back in the early ‘90’s. I didn’t need to discover it, I happily waited to be informed. Let someone else take the hit on that one!

Sometimes you just want to short and sweet.

To be continued…….

Dad

Published July 15, 2019 by helentastic67

Dad

I rang my dad last week. Oh? You may wonder where this is going. It’s not going anywhere you imagine. Just trust me.

I rang him, he never rings me. He is my Italian parent, if you recall and it is fifty minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

The first five minutes he starts with ‘oh, I don’t know if you know/I don’t know if I told you?’ and I have to be rude and interrupt him to remind him, I saw him at Christmas and he has Sciatica and his left leg hurts.

Yes. Then he’s confused and surprised I am aware. A bit of extra information re my Pa, is that he was a builder all his life, he retired a little early, due to having bowel cancer. Don’t stress, he had chemo and radiation, he beat it.

NOT COMPLAINING

Then he got/had bladder cancer. (at least he is consistent, same are of the body) and he’s beaten that (again not complaining).

While he hasn’t got dementia, he is seventy-years old, I think undiagnosed, he may have had a series of heart attacks and strokes or just a bit of ‘brain-faze’ from all his treatments. Relax, he’s cancer free.

In reality, with his very serious dedication to smoking, cancer may eventually be his downfall, but he will not go down without a fight. But right now, he’s doing everything he can to complain about everything and not listen to anything I have to say to help.

Anyway, I digress, he then went into a rant about he would do anything to not have to use a walking stick to get around and how hard it is when half your body doesn’t work.

Oh my God, when he uttered those words and he could not be interrupted because he was not done. So, if you can’t feel my eyeroll and if I’d been there, he would have received a sever bitch slap (or a back hander).

He was so severely oblivious to who had had just made that comment to, I decided to give him one of my classic Helen lines.

“Shut the fuck up”

He actually stopped talking (I was impressed). Now, you may think that is the rudest thing and completely disrespectful to speak to one’s father that way. But, however, I will say that to my mother and she does. So, I should be able to say it to my father.

I love both my parents; I just love them differently and I deal with them both as sternly as they each need and can take.

Honestly, I am much tougher with my mum because if I don’t pull her into line no one will and on somethings she will never change, so I’ve learned to let it go. I guess I’ve learned to choose my battles there also.

Ah, the fifty minutes I said I’d never get back, yes! My father, at 70 decided to get a smart phone! His first smart phone and likely his first taste of the internet!

And I proceeded to help-desk him through how to use his search engine! “Dad, just put your finger in the white bar up the top!” And he grumbles the (and I stress) “typewriter” has gone away!” God help me! “Just tap in the white bar dad and the keyboard will appear!”

And fifty fucking minutes later! KMKMKMKM!!!!!!!(Kill Me!) That was the fifty fucking minutes of my life I will never get back! And I’m not even the Samsung daughter! I’m the Apple daughter!