Straya... Here we come

This week, Yo Mamma makes a decision: fuck it, we're going back to Australia.

After two brutal years in the US, another big job falling through, and watching my bank account slowly bleed to death, I've stopped trying to force a life that clearly isn't working. The plane tickets are booked, the countdown is on, and in seven weeks I'm moving two small children 10,000 miles across the world with no job, no permanent home, about $20K and a prayer.

What could possibly go wrong?

Quite a lot, actually. I still need somewhere to live, I'm breaking my lease, my husband is about as useful as tits on a bull, and there's the small matter of figuring out what the fuck I'm going to do with Fritz.

But for the first time in a while, there's a direction. I'm not quitting. I'm recalibrating.

Australia, mate. 🇦🇺

Transcript

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You're tuned in to BD B D. Bitch, don't be dumb. I'm your mama. No daddy's allowed. The bitch don't be dumb podcast. The bitch don't be dumb podcast. Welcome women. To bitch don't be dumb, a podcast for biological women. I understand we do have some nutsacks in the audience. All are welcome, but don't get it twisted. This is a podcast for my bitches. Bitch don't be dumb is teaching people how to do just that. Be a little bit smarter, be a little less dumber, take it from your mama. I've been around the block. Ladies, what are we doing? I am walking my dog with no microphone again. So I apologize if I sound dodgy. I do plan on replacing my mic, my mic did I say microwave, my microphone. I do plan on replacing my microphone. But in terms of budgeting, this week I had to make the hard call between looking for a new microphone or buying a THC vape pen. And naturally, I elected for the latter. Because for those of you that are keeping track at home, your mama is going through the gigs, and we are currently having this little sh batch of episodes last week, this week. You know, instead of running around complaining about dudes having too much fucking body hair or just genuinely annoying me a lot of the time, we're going to talk about my personal life. We're going to talk about what I have going on because it's way too fierce for me to be funny. So I'll try to be funny in between, you know, my smart ass, but um right now, isn't it really funny? Shit is incredibly serious. That said, you may notice my voice is a little more chipper this week. Do I sound slightly more pleased? Do I sound a little bit more front footish? Well, there's not really any reason for that because the chaos of my life is consistent and everything is still fucked. However, I had to make some executive decisions this week. You know, when I throw shade at my husband, which I often do on the podcast, and he will be a guest one day, we'll we'll bring him on, but he does not participate in decision making. Why? I will never ever know or understand. And not only does he not participate in decision making, he will then get on my dick and say shit like, oh, we're here because you did this or you decided to do this. It's like, bitch, we're here because I make every single fucking decision that goes on, and all you do is stare blankly at me. So that's why we're here. Therefore, when I crawled out of my hole after not getting the job right, so a bit of a refresher. If y'all missed that fucking episode, go back and listen to it. I had four rounds of a heavy corporate job. It would have paid me like a buck 60 plus fucking whatever else, dude. Benefits of this equity options over here. It was a good job, it was a decent job, it would have saved my ass. Alas, I did not get the decent job. That's the second job, big shit job that I've been called for. So I haven't gotten a lot of interviews in the last two years since I've been busting ass. But that's also because I work, curiously, at an extremely high level. And so I did interview for two significantly high-level jobs, one of them being New York City Finance, shut out. The other one was actually in fucking Saudi Arabia, working for the biggest company in the world, second biggest company in the world, obviously being our friends, the oil people, and they interviewed me as well, and were gonna pay me a lot of money. They also wanted me to move to fucking Saudi Arabia, which I didn't really feel like doing, but I didn't get the job anyway. I've learned as I enter the second half of my life with two children in tow, no family, no one to help me, I'm raising them completely alone and independently. Um, you gotta do what you gotta do, beaties. You know what I'm saying? You gotta just like when shit gets fucking poppin', mate, you gotta pop that shit back, dude. When shit cracks in your face, spit on it, put it out. You know what I'm saying? I made a big decision this week, beaties. And that said decision resulted in some plane tickets. And those selected plane tickets will get me the fuck out of the United States of America. 10,000 miles over the water and back to my home away from home of Australia, as we so affectionately say in Australia. If you ever want to sound really Aussie, if you ever like meet some hot Australian guy, you don't really meet him on the East Coast very much, but you'll be able to hunt some out west if you come across a hot Australian guy and you want to flirt with him or tease him or say and he goes, Oh, I'm from Australia. Turn around and go, Australia, mate, say Australia. Not Australia, just say Australia, and he'll probably want to have sex with you because he'll know that you get it. So, anyways, that's free advice. Now, a few decisions have braided together that led me to say, fuck the bullshit. I am going back to Australia. Now, I've said this before, but again, for our new beaties, for our hoppity hoppers that hop around episodes like I get you, I see you, I have lived my adult life split even between Midtown Manhattan and Australia, all up and down the east coast of Australia. I have not lived out west yet, but I have lived from the Sunshine Coast down to Melbourne, not so much in the Sydney area, which is what everybody seems to be familiar with because that's all anyone ever talks about, but I've done Melbourne and Brisbane and coastal pockets in between in the past for many years. Now, when I before I met my husband, so I met my husband five years ago, uh, it'll be five years in February, so four and a half-ish years ago. I had just gone back to Australia alone, because again, I was divorced for ten years. Like I've had four husbands, but I spent my 30s single, single as all day for most of it, and it was fantastic. Um, I went back to Australia by myself and just kind of plopped down. I was working for a mining company for a little bit, then I was doing some again financial writing and just fucking getting by, mate, doing what I needed to do. And it was a very peaceful life, a very quiet life, a very lovely life. And frankly, I didn't think I was gonna come back to the States from there. I really didn't. Lo and behold, a year of that goes by, and then I go on a Tinder date with a really hot, ripped rugby player that knocked me off my feet and got me pregnant three weeks later. So here we are in the United States because I had my first child in Australia. Then we went and we were living in New York City for a little bit, which I never fucking left. But, anyways, we do what we do. Went back to Australia, had my second son, thought that I was gonna be cute with it, come back here again, and be able to get set up. Coming back here this time has just been hellfire. So December 18th will be I was here for two years, right? That I've been back now for two years. I have not gotten anywhere. I have lost almost every dollar that I fucking have ever saved or had to my name, and shit is getting really, really out of control. Not that it was ever really in control, but now it's getting scary. So I don't have anywhere to go. It's not like I can be like, oh, we're just gonna go to your grandparents' house, kitties. Ha ha ha ha. Like, I have no family. I do, I do have family. My family is a two-year-old and a four-year-old that are leached onto me like the little monkeys that they are. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, wonderful, beautiful children that know your mama's gonna look after their ass, that your mama is gonna take care of them no matter what. So I had to do a lot of soul searching. I'm like, why is this happening to me? Like, ever since I got back in the States, every corner I turn is kicking me in the dick. And I don't understand why. And the really V part is I haven't even lived in Manhattan all this time. I've been trying to get myself back into Manhattan, and doors are just fucking slamming in my face. I'm in these whack fucking suburbs that I have no interest being in. Like, if I'm in the US, I'm in New York City. Clock it. You'll find me there. Even now, I'm literally eight miles out. So it's not like I'm far away, but that's too far for me, right? That's way too far for me. So, anyways, it's been a drag. It's been really difficult for me. Also, I've been coming out of a major, major aggravation of my complex PTSD, of which I'm fighting with people right now. Some people are saying though she's got relapsed PTSD, but if it's relapsed, it's not the same as aggravated. I got fucking nine things in court in Australia right now, fighting with people about what happened to me at my last job. Shit's a fucking nightmare, dude. Shit is just like it really has just not stopped since I've been here. And then not for nothing, it caused a lot of issues in my relationship because blatantly I've been cut. I mean, not to my kids. Don't ever get it twisted, ladies. Like, one day I'm gonna do a mama episode and I'll cry my way through. Like, I love my kids so much. I never planned on having kids that wasn't even girls. I had those babies in my fucking early 40s. All in natural. You know what I'm saying? No, just that happened, God sent them, and here we are. So now I have a huge obligation to these kids. And I am not an age discriminant Tory person. I don't age discriminate. I'm like, age is a number, get over it and shit, for real. My husband's 15 years younger than me. I make cracks about it all the time, but who fucking cares, dude? At the end of the day, just be happy, be you, be genuine. However, there is a slight element of growing up that does come with going through life. Lots of people try to like fight this shit, dance around it, deny it. Not me, I'm a realist, and I have no one. So I need to be real with myself. I had an amazing, wonderful, dude, my 30s. I literally wrote a fucking book about it. I'm so I want this nightmare to end so I can literally. The first draft of my book is just sitting there waving at me like, hello everybody, and it's fucking tight, ladies. Trust and believe I write I write. You'll see it. So, nevertheless, I've got that shit that I'm trying to fucking put together about my New York shenanigans, about what a fun life, about all those things and times, and this and that, and etc. etc. etc. that I want to work on. There'll always be a hole in my heart for New York if I'm not there. It's only filled, that cup only gets filled in Manhattan. That's it. And being so close, this dick tease that I've had since coming back. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was in the city, like I spent a couple weeks there in and out, but it's not the same as when you're really don't eat that. Sorry, my dog. It's not the same as when you're really living there and experiencing it every day. And I didn't know or expect to be as heartbroken as I was when I left, but then my children came along and filled my cup. So I don't feel like I'm missing anything. I don't have FOMO for New York because I know what it is, like the back of my hand. I've lived there alone for nearly 10 years. So I'm very connected and formed by that city. I also grew up what 50 miles out, like so, whatever, dude. Like, close enough. You will always be where I'm from, it will always be where I enjoy living as an adult, as a single adult. If you're a single bitch and you can swing fucking Manhattan, girl, do it right now. Just pack your bag and go. Take it from your mama. You gotta do the damn thing. Now, once I had all that self-reckoning about New York and about how, oh fuck, this really isn't gonna work. I really because the thing about me, ladies, I'm resilient. I don't quit. Your mama doesn't quit, and I'm not quitting here. I'm recalibrating, right? I'm pivoting, as they like to say. That's the new trendy word. We're gonna pivot, beaties. And during this pivot, your mama is down to eh, I think I'm still floating around 20 grand. Like I mean, I day trade a little bit. I kind of scoot some stocks around to just try to keep me at $20,000. Hell, I'd love to go above that. That would be wonderful. I could go above that. I definitely can't below that because if I go below that, I'm I don't seriously. So here's the fun thing. Ladies, seven weeks moving to Australia. Boom, just like that. Pow, international move, suck it sideways. I've had enough of trying over here. I can't try anymore. I'm literally packing up my children. My husband will unfortunately be with me. No, not unfortunately. He'll fortunate me. I love him. Honestly, I'm actually looking forward to going back to where we fell in love, to going back to our environment, to going back to the direction my life was going and was supposed to go before I had that crazy fucking trauma reaction that just absolutely let me on fire. And I still don't understand it. I kind of understand it. I don't fully understand it, but I know what I'm not gonna do, and I can't just sit around and lose every dollar I have trying to build a life where I'm at when I keep getting kicked in the dick. For real. So now I have no apartment, I have no job, I have no money, but I have airfare. I have plane tickets. And I chose an airport. I have flown, I couldn't tell you how many times I've gone back and forth to Australia at this stage. If I like definitely ten. I would have definitely done it more than ten times over the years. Um year I remember I did it like three times. Um I often end up going into, you know, like the major airports because that's where you fucking land and you just want to get off the plane because you've been on there forever, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. But this time I'm like, you know, I don't, after everything I've fucking been through over here, I don't want to just like get on the air train, have to fucking get an Uber, get thrown into the mix of a city right away. Like, no. I've decided that I got airfare to fly to my favorite airport that I used to live next door to. It's right on the beach. Like, literally, like you walk out of the airport, you cross the street, you're on the beach. It's a tiny little airport that people never really use. And so it's funny because your expectation of international airport is like a big fucking da-da-da-da. You got this little shitty international airport in Australia where you can just walk out the door, across the street, put on your togs, and go for a swim. So I feel like that is gonna actually bring me some good. No, do it. No, Fritzy, do not. No, no, no, Fritzy! So, in other news, come on, come this way, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. In other news, I gotta get rid of my dog. Stop it. So, before this, this is now we're getting into the the shitty logistics. So that's the good part. The good part is your mama made a decision. I'm not gonna stand here and lose every fucking dollar I have because I will get trapped in the States. I'll be trapped here. I'll be trapped here. Caveat, one small caveat. When I leave, my husband won't be able to return to the US for 10 years. Isn't that hilarious? So, I don't really give a fuck about that because even if I'd be surprised if I came over here every year for the next 10 years. I mean, fuck who knows. A lot can happen in 10 years, that's for damn sure. And for someone like me, who's never settled anywhere, who couldn't even tell you all the places that I've lived, it's a little bit scary. Well, it's a lot of it scary, but you know, I love my kids, and I trust my kids, and I trust God will lead me to the right place I need to go to take care of these kids, and that leads to the other part of my decision. So, my little boys, who are the ripe ages of two and four years old, will be raised in Australia. They will grow up in Australia, they will be Australian, they will have Australian accents, I'm sure they will surf because their father surfs. They will likely barbecue, skateboard, sports, and play like every sport in the world. Uh yeah. Australia. Big decision. I think it sounds a lot more dramatic to people that haven't been there. I feel like when you've been there, particularly as many times as I have, and really just like raw dog lived there, it's not a big deal. The thing that sucks about Australia to me is it's fucking far. It is so far that it's crazy. Like, Europe is right the fuck next door from here. You can literally, if you're in New York City and you're like, hey, I think I'll go to France this weekend, boom, you're in fucking France. What's it like a seven-hour flight? It's bullshit. Australia, please. 24 hours. When it's all said and done, about the time you're on the plane, off the plane, even if you're going direct. I'm flying straight from fucking New York to New Zealand, and then New Zealand into Australia. But nevertheless, the beat goes on, bitches. Just when you think you got shit figured out, something's gonna happen the next day, blow out your ass, dude. Blow out your ass, yo. And when that happens, when that does happen, you plant your feet on the ground, straighten your spine, and keep it fucking pushing. That is what the beaties do. That is what your mama does, and that is what's gonna get me through this now. I know what you're thinking. Yo, mama, how are you taking two children when you have literally homeless um across the country? Where are you gonna go with them? What are you gonna do? What's that shake out to? Well, what I'm gonna do is. Get an Airbnb for the first month that I'm there. So I need to go online and find a long-term Airbnb rental. Um, in the proximity of where I'm going, because the airport that I'm getting off at, you can walk to this little beach town, and then from that little beach town, you can get wherever the fuck you need to go. And if you really need to, you can take an Uber to the train or something if you're trying to get the fuck out of there. But nevertheless, you can do it on foot. And if you are a real rider, a real beauty, then you already know your mama hates driving, dude. I hate driving. I hate cars, they stress me fucking out. Everything about a car stresses me out. I did not have a car for 20 years. I literally lived in Midtown. Why the fuck would I need a car? Like, I have gone all around the world public transport life. Seriously. Like, no cabs, no nothing. Just fucking take the subway to the airport and shit. Man, squirrels are throwing sticks at me. My dog's losing his mind. Oh fuck. Jesus. Anyways, uh, yeah, so back to the dog. So the dog thing is my biggest problem right now. Yeah, we're gonna live in Airbnb seven weeks. I've already started taking shit apart in my fucking apartment. I've decided to get a storage unit. Not because I see, this is annoying too. I have moved, I have done this international move around the world back and forth. Probably four or five times, really moved, and then like 11 or 12 times just fucking around, visiting and shit. Um, and I have realized like I have an entire suitcase of books, of writing books, of books like journals and shit that literally go back 20 years. I don't need to be dragging those bitches around with me. I don't need to be putting them on a plane and weighing those shits. No, no, I don't need to fucking do that. I've got like tchotkis, memories from my babies that I want to hold on to, but I don't need to bring all of their finger painting pictures. I mean, I'd like to, but you know, I can't right now. So I'm going to get a storage unit. And I've got like a couple bags, maybe a box, throw that shit in the fucking unit, and deal with it when I want to deal with it. I got a storage unit one other time, and I feel like I put my car in that storage unit, so that actually was helpful. But then it's like all the shit that you end up storing, you just fucking throw it away anyways. It's it's kind of stupid, it ends up being dumb, but you get, you know, having kids makes you nostalgic and shit. And and also because my mother threw away everything I owned twice, she got me. Um, I don't have anything, I don't, and that's which is okay. I think it's a big part of who I am. I'm not dragging shit around with me for sure. It looks like a fucking dog, but um, anyways, I don't need to be keeping any artifact I have of my history with me, particularly not this trip when I'm down to 20 grand in a fucking prayer. So what I need to do. See, the last time I went to Australia and I got myself set up, it was just me alone. I had 45,000 bucks, and I barely made it through. I I did get set up, I managed to get a place and do this and get a job and everything else, but I was down to my last dollar, I promise you that. My credit card was maxed out, all that shit. It's not easy when you do it alone, dude. Trust me. And again, I'm just a little girl that ran away from my parents' house fucking 26 years ago. Like, what do I know? I'm running around the big bad world, so yeah, this fucking dog. I have moved dogs in between Australia and the US on more than one occasion. It's a fucking pain in the ass. You have to put them into quarantine. And in order to get to quarantine, they quarantine for 10 days, but in order to quarantine them, they have to go through six months. It's 180 days of vet appointments. Now, if you're living here, it's fine. You just fucking do what you gotta do. But I'm not living here, mate, and I gotta leave now because the problem is I can't afford to stay. Like, I'm not exaggerating. Trust and believe, ladies. This is my fucking life. Like, I am here as a real one, as a life force, as a sister guide, auntie, mama. For you ladies to not only learn the tips and tricks I have about how straight women don't peg and fucking dudes shouldn't be having jerk offs together. I go in. As of late, I didn't used to. I used to just talk about fucking, you know, hand jobs and whatever else, but lately we're taking a shift. So when I say I'm leaving and I'm doing the shit with 20 grand, ladies, I'm fucking leaving and doing the shit with 20 grand. It's fucking crazy. Don't do it. No. Brittany, stop it. Sorry, sorry. I gotta get rid of this fucking dog. So this stupid dog now, now, who's not trained, this is a problem too. When I got the dog um a year and a half ago, I wasn't able to train it because where we were living, when I first started doing the podcast, you guys used to hear me, and I was in Southbury, that was a place was a crack of fucking shit. There were no sidewalks there. That's why I went crazy. Yo, my steps, I was averaging 3,000 steps a day in that house. Now I average 21,000, and that's real fucking talk, dude. I am not making that up. I'm in these streets. I couldn't believe I moved somewhere without a fucking sidewalk. But anyway, so the dog's not trained. He needs to have his fucking nuts lopped now because he's starting to get aggressive. I don't want to just re-home him because my kids love this dog, you know, it's like their dog, and it's as like everything is fucked up. And will they get over it? Yeah, they're only four and two, blah blah blah blah blah. But the bottom line is I'm running every avenue. So when I talk to you guys next week, God willing, I will have sorted out somewhere to live and or stay, and I'm gonna have a lead with this fucking dog. And then I'm flying out, may I think the 28th or some shit is when I'm out. Like, I'm flying out, dude. Um it's coming. So once it gets to like the four-week countdown, I'm gonna shit myself. Break shut, Fritzy, cut it out. Hey, enough. I'm breaking my lease. Can you believe this fucking dog? It's so annoying. He just started doing it, it's so annoying. And I have to like train him while he does it, but I can't train him and talk and fucking podcasts at the same time. So, anyways, ladies, that's gonna do it for me this week. I'm gonna wrap it up there. I'm just gonna wrap it up there, and hopefully next week I come back with a plan of how I'm gonna save this dog, even though it gives me the fucking shits, and also where I'm gonna live, and also I'm gonna just start to fucking my lazy piece of shit, husband. I'm just gonna start to send resumes out for him because he doesn't send them out. He's literally, he's sitting around watching me do all this shit, dude. And I can't even podcast about that because I'll probably like break my fucking phone and I'll be so annoyed. So, anyways, ladies, have a good week. Be good. Fuck your man, even if you hate him because you'll feel better afterwards, I promise. Um, and yeah, I will speak to you all next week. God willing. Cross your fingers.