in which my friends discuss the merits of erotic shaving!

Mya: So. . . last night i tried that "let your boyfried shave your pubes because its sensual" thing - think that famous Samantha scene from sex and the city - and it just really wasnt what i expected. it is not as sensual as they make out and it is not attractive. i would not recommend it. he shaved my legs which was nice but the fanny is a no no.

Crystal: Errmmm Mya wtf?!! On which hardcore chinese porn site (Mya is half-Chinese and allows these kind of mildy racist comments from her friends) did you read that assisted pube shaving was hot?

Heather: I have to say I've heard this rumour too & was a little curious, I'm glad one of us has tried it - & that someone wasn't me - so we can all safely say its a no go zone

Crystal: But where were you Mya, in you room? I only feel it is our right to now get all the details. . . yeah were u standing or lying down? was there a sponge or did you dry shave? im really confused how this whole thing worked out. was there any shaving cuts? was witch hazel used?

Mya: ok we were in the bath so it was a wet shave and shaving foam was used errrrm i was kinda like on top of him with my vag facing him, kinda sat on his tummy (was quite comfy) one cut was made but it didnt hurt hahah...no witch hazel. on the shaving front it was a huge sucess as i hadnt shaved for a week (period week) but on the sexy front its a noo im afriad.

errm im gonna say in the shower would be easier...i shaved his balls too (cos i dont like hairy balls)
it was an interesting night im not gonna lie! hahaha

Crystal: Christ Mya, i just dont no what the feck to say. i find balls very offensive - Dixon sent me a photo of his balls yesterday to quote 'cheer me up and make me laugh'. i was utterly mortified as you can imagine.

Mya: i hate balls but i hate them more when they are hairy!! so i resolved the problem haha.

Heather: embrace balls, they'll make giving head a far shorter experiance.

Crystal: it's strange how many boys shave thier pubes these days isnt it

Briony: to be honest everytime I get with a guy now I dnt even notice them I'm far too drunk haha Hmm this seriously probably means I have a drinking problem

Crystal: Apparently its only london boys that shave their pubes. But dammmn it looks quite good?

Heather: nono Sam (the rich Jewish boyfriend) shaves his pubes too, its excellent, im with Crystal on this one.

Mya: i'm not down with shaving pubes (as you can imagine post bath incident!), i like a good trim and cleanly shaved balls but not full on shaven it doesnt look right. it looks like an angry snake or funny coloured elephant trunk.

Crystal: i really want to show you all Dixon's cock cos its shaven and i think THEN you will get what i mean. lets bare in mind ladies hes mix raced and hung like a horse

Briony: SEND IT!

Crystal: Oi i'l have no bean flicking over my man Briony I no wot your like!

Briony: haha its been so long since i have seen one in the flesh

Heather: But seriously why have I not seen this yet?? This seems like prime viewing...

Mya: I WANT TO SEE THE COOOOOOOCK

Crystal: Before you do I have to warn you that today over lunch he also told me he got circumsized at 16 after his girlfriend at the time got her tongue peircing caught in his foreskin and he litterally had to rip her face from it! I laughed so hard.. Briony's your banjo string stories all came flooding back. I'm excited to sample some circumsized cock, Heather I'm sure you could give me some Sam-based tips? Does it look weird? I want to google an image but I'm scared of what will come up...

Mya: hahaha, me and Briony have had this convo many a time and I DONT UNDERSTAND!

i cant figure out what it means, but i dont want to look!

Briony: i seem to remember Heather googling circumcised penises at my house while we were having a girls nite in watching xfactor - as you do - because we were so intrigued as to what one looked like!!

Heather: Sam's circumcised cock is LUSH!

(At this point Crystal goes ahead with the google search - not for the faint hearted!)

Crystal: 'diego' is packing!

Briony: don't click on it!!! its only going to get bigger! the picture that is. . & diego's member - horrific!

Mya: oh my actual god, thats nearly pushed me over the edge with the spewing right now. why the fuck is he sat like that??!! ("Diego" appears to be squatting in the image!) he looks like hes having a poo...

Briony: and, is this weird that i must be REALLY unobservant in life, because i swear i wud not have noticed it was any different. Must be that drinking problem again!

Bad timing

We all know that famous saying, 'Women are from Venus and Men are from Mars' which is why perhaps I choose to put up with some of my boyfriends more unsavoury habits. It's a fact of nature after all that men haven't evolved all that far from their primitive cavemen routes! I manage to look past the toe nail picking (at least he doesn't sit in the lounge eating them like one of my male ex-housemates!) and the farting but as long as I can set certain perimeters:

1) Try to minimise the farting when I'm around - he attempts to look sheepish after the event but I know that inside he is not-so-secretly quite proud
2) Try to aim for a well ventilated place - my boyfriend thought he was onto a winner when he would do it whenever I left the room until upon my return I was hit by a wall of odour
And 3) Definitely no farting in my bed! I'll have none of this cocking of the leg & sneakily lifting up the edge of the duvet cover to subtely waft in out - your covers blown & I'm on to you!

So with these few simple rules in place I was confident that I had my man well trained - or as well as can be expected at least! Little did I know that nothing can prepare you for a fart that squeaks out just as your man is cuming (I kid you not!) In the shock and sheer horror of the moment I did not know how to react - my immediate reaction was to laugh hysterically and roll about on the floor crying to myself. Scratch that, the supposed intimate 'poist-coital' moments are not ones for laughing at the expense of your partner. So, like a trooper, I sucked it up (not literally!) aligned my face so that it didn't give the game away, screwed my eyes up & gave him a little congratulatory kiss - for the sex, not for the ill-timed fart I'd like to add! As we pulled away I gave him a few moments to rearrange & sort himself out before we fell into the customary post-sex spoon. And at this point I couldn't hold it in any longer it started as a snicker, then a splutter and then I was gone. The poor guy - he knew it, I knew it, he had hoped for a few precious moments that he had got away with it, but no! His mortified face was enough to let me know that his farting etiquette would be improving from now on in order that he hoped this unfortunate tale would never have to surface again!

Crystal

She was argueably the alpha female of our coyote pack and we hung off every sequinned word that dripped from her. Raised by her single mother and her single mother's gay best friend with a hippy-dippy free love mantra there was no other path for her except to enter a world full of glitter, leopard print and fabulousness.

Queen of the image re-invention, there were not many of us who could recall the natural hair colour of this platinum pixie-bobbed diva. With her exotic brand of foundation always smelling strangely of peanut butter and her false eyelashes thick like hairy spider legs, she resembled one of those department store Clinique make-up counter girls who wore the entire range on a daily basis. . . only it appeared that she has slept in that same make-up for at least two days. Although her skin, as far as I remember, was a pearly, milky white, she always looked like a slightly grubby street urchin where last nights Sun Shimmer had left an imprint in another man's bed.

I would always flash forward several decades down the line to a perfectly clear image of her as an old brown leathery skinned woman with perfectly coiffed (with the help of a whole can of hairspray) peroxide beehive, her tiny frail frame drowned in a floor length fur (not faux fur - controversially, rather like Cruella De Vil, she never could understand why animals shouldn't be sacrificed for the sake of fashion) coat. A cigarette holder dangled from between her rouged lips pursed like two dry withered prunes. Her clawed hands again lacquered with red polish gripped a crystal glass full of a firy amber liquid which swirls dangerously as she totters in sky high heels cladding her sheer stockinged legs. Growing old gracefully was not at option for Crystal. . . go out drawing attention to oneself with an undignified bang or theres no point at all.

Sneezing into a kettle

My sneezes are the kind that creep up on me with no hint of a warning & are uncontrollable in both force & volume. They are the kind of sneezes which when they occur in public cause all people within a 50metre radius to turn round to see what has happened to cause such a noise disturbance. (I have only ever encountered one other person, in a queue at Thorpe Park incidentally, who I felt had a more embarassing sneeze than I. Her friends rolled their eyes - I knew how she felt!) I have tried so very hard to keep it in but when this happens I feel as if I'm going to puncture a lung or cause myself to have a hernia or some such other disagreable injury. . . so I figured I was best off after all just letting my sneeze out to the rest of the world to say hello.

So it was one such typical sneeze that crept up on me the other day when I was making my best friend a cup of coffee (we were just about to head out you see on a night out & she was going to drive us in and was therefore replacing alcohol with my strongest blend of coffee). There was nowhere to hide & nowhere to turn so sneeze I must right into the depths of the kettle. And there I stood horrifired, all manner of particles clearly just having flown from my mouth into the water that I was about to boil & pour into a coffee to serve my friend. I giggled to myself more out of panic than anything. I did not know if the boiling process would remove all of my sprayed germs but I hoped that it would. So I tipped out the contaminated water, filled that kettle again, boiled away all evidence and secretly hoped for the best as I handed over the brew.

the unfortunate (sex less) existence of my cat

My cat has been the recipient of more affection today than she is used to as I think she has been in some kind of a scrap or picked up an infection as she can't open her right eye (hmm, this may require some specialist attention!). Her current sorry state got me thinking that she really is a rather unfortunate creature. She was a rescue cat & was taken away from her mother at an early age & as such when we got her she used to suckle on this fluffy nightdress I used to own as a child as if it was her mother. Then there's the fact that she has been subjected to the same flavour of Iam's cat food every day since we got her & I think this has driven the poor girl into the depths of dementia as recently she seems to forget that she has just been out will wonder round the house aimlessly before returning to the door to be let out. Or maybe. . .

. . this is all to fill the large void in her life as we hav deprived her of children. I'm no animal activist but it's all rather strange that if a woman finds out she is unable to conceive children then this is a life changing moment which has a massive impact. Yet we take this away from our pets as an everyday occurence. I recognise the need to control the cat & dog population we wouldn't want them taking over the world after all would we! but the poor thing doesn't even have it explained to her. She just falls asleep & when she wakes up she can't hav children if it were you you wud feel violated. And she must know after all. . ..

And does newtering (shes a girl - does this word apply?!) also take away sex drive?? I no you get the randy dogs who hump legs, or cushions or anything that moves but you don't really hear about horny cats do you. I reckon my cat would want to be a horny devil given the chance. She's a ginger female - very rare we were told - so apparently in the cat word ginger doesn't hold the same stigmatism! But is she now simply unphased by all those prospective bachelor cats out there, couldn't care less about the opposite sex or does she mourn the loss of being a mother. . . how sad :( Perhaps she doesn't keep loitering round the back door to be let out AGAIN because she's lost her marbles, she's simply trying to fill the times & the void in her life left by lack of sex & children!

In the future I think I would like to keep a cat or dog of my own but to let them have their full childbearing potential. I would also quite like a cleaner please (just an after thought!).

the milestone

The other day I reached a milestone in my latest relationship & it wasn't the first kiss, first time we had sex, 3 month anniversary kind of milestone. No, it was the first & hopefully last time he had walked in on me on the toilet - naked (i wud like to take this oppurtunity to explain that I was about to shower & therefore had removed my clothing - obviously)

Anyway he simply surveyed the scene in front of him before shuffling out backwards to my exclamation of 'OH!' those kind of guilty sounds that escape your mouth without you meaning them to. As the door swiftly closed and I lept after it to bolt the door fast all I could do was stand there horrified & feeling slightly violated!

I ran the shower & stood beneath the jet of water considering what angle to take with this. Should I:-

a) pretend it never happened & live on peacefully in ignorant bliss

b) avoid each other in awkward silence & see if he has the balls to address this most embarassing of subjects

or c) launch into an angry tirade ranting about lack of privacy

Never one to shy away from anything I went for a slightly toned down version of option see. So stepping out of the bathroom my towel wrapped around me I re-entered the bedroom where my boyfriend was perched on the end of the bed.

"You are a terrible boyfriend!" I exclaimed trying to make light of the subject, "What has a girl got to do to get a little privacy around here?" He held his hands up - an innocent gesture trying to ward off my attack, "I thought you were just in the shower & was coming in to surprise you. But don't worry, I still fancy you," he teased, but he had this wide-eyed look in his eye. "OH!" (there it was again escaping like that). . I buried my face in my hands wondering if he would keep getting random flash backs to that hideous hideous image of me.

I wondered if we would ever be able to get past this, if I would be paranoid that he would always be picturing me naked on the toilet for heavens sake!!! When I recounted my tale to a friend she was anything but concerned. "I think you reach that point in your relationship when you just feel completely comfortable around each other," she told me (she's been with her boyfriend for over 3 years). "I'll often be cleaning my teeth when Jim's on the toilet, or he will come in & chat to me when I'm on the toilet."

I think my expression gave the game away, I'm not sure I'll ever reach that point in a relationship where I would be happy for either my partner or myself to be present when the other is on the toilet. Some things should just be kept strictly to yourself, am I right?

Beard cream

As a result of a rather unfortunate fainting incident - long story - I have a long pink scar along my jaw bone on the right side of my face. My friends still make the 'harvey two face' and standard 'Chin up!' jokes - it's been long enough now that I can laugh. . . . just haha! It also has a rather nasty lump bit which didnt heal too well as there was a flap of skin which was too thin to be stitched, or so the rather hunky A&E doctor told me! When my mother first saw if she almost has a fit claiming it obviously hadn't been done properly & that I needed to consult someone regarding plastic surgery. I told her she was being silly & that I was going to have any form of unecessary surgery especially on my face! Anyway since then she hasn't really let in drop & has been coming up with all sorts of scar improvement suggestions.

My Nan has also obviously caught a whiff of the situation & her solution was to give me this funky yellow coloured cream in a tupperware pot that smells of old people. . . she claims she got in from her poor dear infirm, also elderly friend, she cleans for. She claims its a miracle scar cure - the only catch is that its apparently illegal in this country! so this woman's daughter brought it bak for her wen she went on holiday (probably to thailand or asia or sumwhere!!!!). . . . the BIG question is should I risk putting it on my face?!!! bearing in my nan rang earlier & i asked her how often i shud put it on so she rung up her friend & then rang me bak. Her answer was only ONCE a day & only a thin layer as (this is in her own words. . .) 'we don't want you growing a beard do we!' - you can see why i'm a little dubious!

my encounter with a green man

It's that time of year again. . .Halloween & the standard night out/house party that goes along with it. The one night of the year when you spend a ridiculous amount of time making urself look truly scary/hideous (but at the same time attempting to maintain some form of sexy which, rather unsurprisingly takes an awful lot of time, effort & skill especially when you only hav supermarket face paint to work with!)

It also proves to be a mine field for all the single girls out there. After all who knows just what you could be bringing home underneath all the masks & costumes. It must be all the unattractive peoples favourite night out of the year - wow, harsh! And last night, in true halloween form I ended up coming home with one such unknown quantity. . . the Incredible Hulk complete with all over green face paint, ripped shorts & ripped T-shirt.

The sex was amazing, I guess the exact kind of sex you wud expect to have with the incredible hulk!!! But it was the next morning the aftermath of all the glory of bringing sum1 home on halloween was fully realised. My sheets were green, there were green handprints on my walls, I looked in my bathroom mirror & i had small patches of green all over my body (it kind of looked like I had been savagely beaten & my bruises had reached that yellow/green phase), my sink & soap were covered in green where Mr. Hulk had obviously attempted to wash himself & taking a quick look at the man in my bed had obviously failed! Mr. Hulk now looked as if he has some terrible chronic disease as some, but not a lot of the green had rubbed off as he slept.

The morning after halloween perhaps the most amusing walks of shame ever as Mr. Hulk was proof & definitely to put on that extremely strange sex list. . . shouldn't every1 have one?!

play that funky vinyl

I love Anna, I really do, but this does not mean I have to share in her (very bad) taste in music. On this we agree to disagree - when I ride in her car I must endure her musical preferences which up until the other day consisted of only 'Angel fm' a local radio station focusing on the war years whose slogan should be: music for OAPs by OAPs. I joke that when we hit an area of static its becasuse the presenter has just turned up his hearing aid. All the adverts are for undertakers which is quite depressing & slightly odd as when their listeners pop their clogs they can't very well arrange their own funeral can they?! The other day I had to endure a two hour gas mask special - I would really like to tell you that I'm joking here (as much as I loved the war effort back in my junior school history class!) She also gets very excited when she solves the daily guess the artist puzzle which I have to say is an impressive feat bearing in mind todays artist of the day was born in 1897! Having said all this at least I know what to expect. The easy jazz numbers are really quite relaxing and I have grown accustomed to the raspy singers & fuzz from the vinyl records - its all quite comforting in a funny sort of way!

"I love how they always sing about romance," Anna sighed, "It's all walks on the beach by moonlight and candle-lit dinners." "Oh, you old romantic you!" I gave her a playful nudge, "I know what you mean though. It's hardly Akon's 'I see you winding and grinding up on that pole' is it?!" This was probably a grandparents moment when they would say, 'Ah, the youth of today.' "That reminds me, my nan came round the flat this morning," I told Anna, as she had been out at the time buying groceries at tesco express down the road. "Oh?" she replied, as she had been out at the time picking up a few groceries from the tesco express down the road. "Yeah, I think she popped her head in for a bit of a nosey round the place, you know," my nan is a bit of a busybody and knows everything about everyone - she is even better friends with our own neighbours than we are ourselves! "She asked if we had a good evening last night and then she went off on one as she does about how things were back in her day - about the dances she used to go to. This music just reminded me of it that's all." "I want to be back in those times when you used to have to sit on the side of the hall waiting for boys to ask you politely if they could have this dance," Anna said her eyes glazing over slightly. "I know. My nan asked me to explain how it all works nowadays and I just didn't no quite how to put it! I think she would be appauled," I exclaimed. "I went with 'snatch and grab' as means of description but I don't think she really understood!" "Probably for the best," Anna retorted, "All that innapropriate groping would be too much for her!"

"Oh and by the way she thinks I have a drink problem!" I told her, laughing. Anna raised an eyebrow, looking for further explanation. "My mum called me up a while after she had left telling me that when my nan was tidying up the place she had found an empty vodka bottle in the bin next to my bed and feared the worst," I explained. "Oh, that's hilarious - she has such a low opinion of you," Anna chuckled, "The poor dear probably assumed you had downed the whole bottle in an alcohol induced stupour before you went off to bed!" "Well you know me," I gave a little shrug, "Can't get through the night without it. It wasn't even vodka that's the thing I'm just not that hard core. It was one of those bigger bottles of smirnoff ice you know left over from the flat warming party. It wasn't even as if I had drunk it all to myself, although that possibly would have made for a better night!" I said, my voice raised in mock outrage. "Ah, that fateful night. . ." Anna trailed off as we both sat there remembering traces of smiles playing on our lips.

Asexuality & psychoanalysis

“I had an amazing session with my new vibe last night,” Beth dropped in casually, cigarette in hand. “It’s the bullet, you know? Who would have known that such a small thing could be so powerful! After Bob, I may never go back to men again.” “Aww is that what you call him – if indeed it is a him?” I asked. “No dear, Bob as in Battery Operated Boyfriend!” Beth said placing a hand on my leg which clearly said ‘there, there, they will be here soon’. “Oh,” I said inwardly kicking myself for being so oblivious and slow on the uptake. “My power shower has always been good enough for me,” I said attempting to make a quick recovery. “That’s because you’re easy!” Anna giggled as I made a playful swing for her head. “Talking about never going back to men again I’ve decided to become asexual,” Anna announced matter-of-factly. “Anna, you know I love you, but you are really, very weird,” Beth said catching my eye in a knowing look. “Shut up you! Look I’ve researched it and all the characteristics fit me down to a tea. It says you have a few close friends who you tell everything to and cannot imagine having such a close relationship with a sexual partner – check. Also, you can never imagine committing yourself to a long-term relationship and staying faithful to one person - check. And you would prefer casual, meaningless affairs- check.” “That last one could quite easily describe Beth too!” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’ll have you know those days are behind me. I’m happily loved up thank you very much,” she retorted. “Well if you’re becoming asexual Anna, then I’m running away to a convent to become a nun,” I announced.

We might come across as a couple of man-haters, Anna and I, but we’re not really, honest. We completely value the uses that men can provide i.e. sex, I suppose. Perhaps it is our poor relationship history that has developed such a depressing outlook. Anna tends to opt for the home-wrecking approach, preying on men who are totally unavailable and breaking down their current relationship. When she has snared them she typically becomes bored in the first couple of weeks and proceeds to dump them. See, Anna values her independence above or else and becomes decidedly claustrophobic when tied down to another person. I advise prospective boyfriends not to call her too frequently or check what she’s up to and restrict seeing her to a max of once a week. I guess it’s the whole thrill of the chase argument – aren’t we all prone to it!

My lack of success with men can largely be put down to poor judgement on my part. You see a favourite No Doubt lyric of mine could have been modelled on me: when Gwen asks, ‘Why do the good girls always go for the bad boys?’ I totally relate. You meet a bad boy, get drawn in helplessly, begin destructive relationship, he breaks your heart; you mend slowly before the cycle begins again. It all sounds hopelessly sad & tragic, but then why does it happen so often to the strong woman in today’s society. Are we all just hopeless in love or is it because we are afraid of waiting for one of the nice, decent guys to come along? I think it’s because when I find ‘nice’, I read boring! So perhaps Anna and I aren’t all that different and I’m seeking thrills in my own way.

The current guy I’m totally hung up on isn’t particularly rock & roll: there are no piercings, tattoos, motorbikes or criminal records. However, he does enjoy the look on my face when he describes poo fetish porn, he wees up my neighbours wall (not that this is much of a problem other than the principle as I don't particularly like said neighbour anyway!), he writes explicit messages on the roof of my car which I wake up to in the morning & can never quite remember how they got there, drinks vodka red bulls like they are going out of fashion, inappropriately grinds with the entire club and then in the hot tub the following morning drops his shorts to discuss whether or not he should get his back, sack & crack waxed. At this I point out that he is in need of it! Yet, despite all of this, I'm drawn in helplessly. I guess the ‘nice-but-completely-boring’ bloke always turns out to be much better friend potential. Don’t get me wrong I have attempted this approach to wean myself off the bad apples, but this has always been met with disastrous results. My guilt issues and I tend to string out the relationship for a painful couple of nauseating months just because I feel bad for the poor bloke.

Anna once tried to tell me that she believed all my relationships were built on guilt, friendships included. Now there’s a great piece of psycho-analysis for you. “Take Heather, for example,” she began to explain to me, “You are still trying to make up for the fact that you supposedly bullied her in Junior School. We never gave her that invitation to our birthday party, remember? Here you are years later hanging onto that friendship just to make amends.” “What a complete load of crap!” I protested although a little nagging voice in the back of my head was telling me different, “We are both still great friends with Heather after all these years and its nothing to do with what happened in Junior school.” Anna raised an eyebrow (something which, in itself, irritates me as I’ve never been able to achieve it even after years of practising in front of the mirror whilst applying mascara which, thinking about it, is a potentially dangerous feat in itself!) “Alright then, what about that day when she completely went nuts at you back in college. Didn’t that make you feel slightly bad and secretly wanting to make it all right again?” She gave me a knowing smile. This is the annoying thing about a best friend who knows you inside out, better in fact than you probably know yourself; she has a habit of being invariably right.

A fact of nature (- but i'm sorry!)

I’d arranged to meet James my gym buddy for a quick work-out. I had a lot of stress to vent and felt that the treadmill could potentially be in for a pounding this evening. I hopped in the car and switched my i-pod to my work-out playlist to get me in the mood. My work-out playlist tends to switch between very angry rock numbers and ‘techno techno’ awful dance tunes. Today’s playlist of choice featured generic tunes with my favourite bass line - ‘mmm tsss, mmm tsss’ I nodded along in time as the man at the traffic lights next to me gave me a quizzical look. I swung my little blue yaris into the car park and drove round aimlessly for a while trying to decide which bay to park in – the trouble is there is just too much choice! I inwardly scolded myself for my indecisive nature and attempted miserably to Bay Park. After two failed attempts I squeezed myself in next to a parked moped knowing that I’d probably be returning to a scratch on my door for my efforts. Purse in hand and swinging my towel over my shoulder I headed for the gym.

I found James already on the treadmill and chose the machine next to him. He paused his workout to chat as I set up an incline walk. We exchanged pleasantries and I asked how things were with his girlfriend Ashleigh. He made some non-committal response with a look on his face that told me something was up. When I continued to press him for details I couldn’t help but laugh at the story that followed. He told me the other day they were lounging in bed when Ashleigh announces she’s going to the toilet for a poo. Apparently the thought of girls going to the toilet, for him, is such a big turn off that he felt compelled to dump her the next day. At this I tried to tell him that perhaps his reaction was quite extreme and maybe he had been a little harsh (poor girl!). Having said this I still felt the need to apologise in the name of all women. Not sure I would ever tell a boyfriend my toilet habits but I made a mental note not to refer to this in any way ever again. To make up for Ashleigh’s let down of ‘team girl’ I attempted to reassure James that most girls never go for poos or fart for that matter - we are far too cleanly! In much the same way we girls don't sweat whilst on the cross trainer, we glow. Our James isn’t the brightest crayon in the tin (though he sure does look great in a wife beater & sweatpants!) but I wasn’t sure he fell for my attempts to reinstate women as the pinnacle of hygiene!


Thought of the day: "The limits of my words are the limits of my world" Ludwig Wittgenstein

A dawning realisation that I am indeed cheap :(

Sitting across from Anna at the kitchen table I swirled the contents of my cup. “Do you think we are getting old before our time?” I casually asked. “Is this about the weekend again?” Anna sighed, “I know I am possibly the only person we know that has ever been thrown out of a nightclub for falling asleep in the corner, but can we please stop going on about it!” “No it’s not that,” I replied attempting to conceal a big grin, “It’s the fact that here we are making a list of things to do before we reach the big three-oh and number one just happens to be ‘Dress up as old person in wheelchair and carer to sneak into Old Hollywood showing at cinema.’ And why do we want to do this? Because you get OAP rates and an intermission with tea and biscuits.” Anna just laughed, “That doesn’t necessarily mean we are turning senile, just that we are cheap! I’ll do anything for a freebie.” At this I had to agree as it comes from the girl who, much to my embarrassment, will only ever order water, that’s tap water in restaurants when we go out for a meal (and has never before in her life despite living the high life mostly on the tips she receives!). Once the waiter apologised but said they were only able to sell us bottled water at which point Anna turned round to point out, for the whole of the restaurant to hear, that it is actually illegal not to sell tap water. Who would know that for heaven’s sake?

At first I inwardly dismissed Anna's claims about my cheap nature. In fact I totally resented being tarred with the same brush as a tap-water-orderer! Then as I began to mentally weigh up recent events I realised begrudgingly that Anna was completely right, as per usual. This was the thought process that led to a dawning realisation that I am indeed cheap:

> to a lash up at a friends house prior to a big nite out I brought along a bottle of lamrini - yes that is lambini as in what you drink on the street corner when you are 15. I should feel embarassed but its only £1.59 from the co-op down the road and is now available in a variety of flavours! This week might just be a peach week.
> I view a new boyfriend as a means of relieving current financial difficulties i.e. free meals out, drinks bought on nights out, lift home minus taxi fair etc etc.
> When most people ladder their tights they curse and throw them in the bin whereas I am quite pleased to have aquired a new hair tie. Just think how many hair ties you can fashion form an old pair of cut up tights!
> cash points that charge (cheeky buggers!) are not used full stop. I tell myself that this is just a priniciple even if I have to walk half way across town - in a slightly worse for wear state - for the next nearest available one

A great big hug in a mug

I went to lunch with Heather today and was met me with her usual air kiss routine. I reckon you can tell a lot about a person from the way they greet you and Heather’s definitely reflects her general character. Her displays never fail to look oh so very sophisticated, but I’m always left feeling a bit cold and inadequate by the end of it and I'm not really quite sure why! I think it is because I'm more of a hug person myself. I love it when a guy gives you a really strong hug as it can just make you feel so special & protected. Or alternatively the casual one-armed embrace where he pulls you all close that just says I'm really comfortable around you. The man to man (usually congratulatory) hug is great as well: the initial embrace & then the hearty couple of back slaps - amazing!

Having said all this you can get really awful limp hugs which just leave me deflated. An old friend used to hug me this way and I just knew she wasn’t to be trusted! Her arms drape around you barely touching & her head swings out the way as she juts it over your shoulder. I used to feel like turning to her and saying, “Look love I'm not trying to kiss you I just wanted to say hello, but maybe I just won't bother next time.” What I want is a great big hug in a mug just like in those cuppa-soup adverts (although maybe minus the hairy blue arms & the face stroking because after all that’s just weird)! Heather and I usually get locked in a greeting war as after I have been through her air kiss ritual, I tend to try and snare her in a hug as well. What I tend to go for (depending on who is the recipient of course) is the embrace & then the friendly and comforting back rub. I find major hug errors which one should avoid at all costs involve the length of hug. Never hold on for too long because this just ends up really awkward & embarrassing for all involved as the other person pulls away and you just won’t let them –eek! Also burrowing in & loudly sniffing the other persons hair is not advised either as this is just stalker-ish & weird (unless you have been invited of course!) If someone pulls away you might not want to go in for the hug-kill either - perhaps they just don't want to touch you or you have a bit of a body odour issue!

Confessions of a wannabe call girl

In one of those deep & meaningful chats that so often crop up between my best girlfriend & myself we laid out our future life plan. If my choice of degree course fails & as a graduate of musical theatre, she finds herself without work we plan to start up our own escort service. I think we use the word escort to make it seem all the more above board - i guess escort to prostitute is what exotic dancer is to stripper. Surprisingly (or i guess not if you think about it) prostitution is legal in this country altho advertising your services is not hmm. . . im sure there is sum kind of corner we can cut there! & yes we have dun our research! Our reasoning is our morals aren't all that high after all & the money is fantastic. We will buy a flat (boudeiour!) in London conduct the business from there & live in the lap of luxury - sounds easy doesn't it. I guess thats minus the drugs, potential danger from customers & health risks. Trouble is all the media potrayal of escorts recently has promoted the sex industry - i mean who wudnt want to be Billie Piper from 'confessions of a call girl' she looked damn hot in it. Well who doesn't have a back up plan/ Plan B for if everything goes tits up in life - this is ours.

Dude, where's my 'fro?

My chief grievance today has been 'the do' - it was wot cud be described as a very bad hair day. You see the problem is at the slightest hint of moisture in the air my hair turns poker straight, flat & lifeless. Most people tell me they have the opposite problem & their do's are the product of hours of ironing. Im over straight hair-envy wot i'm looking for is a bit of va va voom. Wot I want above all else in the hair stakes is to have an afro for the day, just the day this is all I ask. Then I could bounce around with my curls with perhaps one of those funky coloured combs portruding at a jaunty little angle. Perhaps even a little sparrow might come & nest within then my hair would be truly satisfied!

Totally tea room

You might say that we are old before our time but Anna & I love nothing more than to spend our lunch break in this little tea room round the corner from where we work - & yes it just happens to be located in the City Museum thnkyoo very much! It doesn't bother us that the average age of a tea room dweller is probably approaching the BIG 90. They do tea & 2 slices of toast for £1.20 for God's sake & I haven't even begun to describe the size of the cake portions! The fact of the matter is we love our food - its a sad state of affairs wen u realise u wud much rather spend a tenner on a realli great meal than that fab pair of shoes. The shoes will only be worn once after all & then discarded to the very bak of the wardrobe as you realise you can't manage more than a few steps wearing them. It's probably this shared outlook & understanding that makes us so close! Oh & our joint ambition to sneak into a 'classic hollywood' OAP screening at our local cinema. I mean wot with the reduced ticket price, intermission (!) & free tea & biscuits at half time - who could turn down this oppurtunity?

It was not until we invited James a male work colleague to our weekly tea room outing that we realised that maybe this behaviour wasn't strictly the norm! He looked on half in amazement half in amusement as we sipped our tea with our little finger stuck out & sat there rather quietly gazing around in horror at the framed pictures of fluffy cats, the tea room lady bustling round in her pinny & the distinctly overpowering smell of lavender. "I didn't realise you were such ladies" he exclaimed & yes i'd like to think that attending a tea room brings about a certain sophistication in oneself!

the list that condemns me to be eaten by alsations!

Against my better judgement I've decided to begin a baby name list which has perhaps been prompted by the recent broody feelings I get when looking at any child under the age of five - maybe its that biological clock they talk bout kicking in & ticking very loudly in the background. I believe there to be a great deal of stigma attached to list of these kinds - I mean what scares most men shitless more than baby talk (aside from commitment of course, but for them babies & commitment probably go hand in hand & are difficult issues to separate!) So by writing such a list I have probably codemned myself to be a lonely spinster all my life with only my many fluffy cats for company or maybe in a bridget jones style paranoia I will die alone & then be eaten by alsations.
Alas such a list probably curses you to be barren all your life but hey lets throw caution to the wind, here goes. .

Girls:

1. Eevie
2. Ava
3. Kial
4. Lilly
5. Sorayah

Boys:

1. Kiefer
2. Guy
3. Kit
4. Flynn
5. Isaac

bless the old man he's finally past it!

I just had one of those horrible life-changing moments (well possibly not that drastic but you get the idea!). I've just come to realise my parents are getting on a bit, perhaps this hasn't been such a sudden change & i just chosen to ignore the blatant truth. You see the thing is there pace is slowing rather of late! In my dad in particular I have detected the premature ageing signs, for instance:

• He ties a carrier bag to the gearstick of his car to act as a bin for any rubbish that might be floating around. He also collects paper napkins from restaurants to keep in the glove compartment err. . . in case of a spillage?
• He has developed a very odd fetish for arranging the dish washer & won't let any1 else touch it just so he can fit that extra plate in. In fact he does the same thing with the freezer - very odd!
• He falls asleep on the sofa before 8 in the evenings & proceeds to snore before being battered over the head by my mother with a plumped up cushion
• He completes the puzzle section of the times every sunday morning (having sed that my sister plays sudoku for fun I hope this isn't a genetic family trait!)
• Before he purchases anything e.g. a holiday or a set of tiles for the new bathroom, he has to complete a spreadsheet comparing the market just to get the best deal. This would be all well & good if the process didnt take months by which time the spreadsheet prices are all out of date anyway! And by the way hasn't he heard they have websites that do that kind of thing for you

Hmm. . . I thought old age was supposed to make you go senile, not anal!

I'm in a relationship with a little yellow rubber man

Plus points:

• He isn't needy or clingy & he doesn't call you at every oppurtunity just to find out what you're up to - in fact he plays hard to get
• He's a great listener & his eyes won't glaze over even after an hour of ranting (- it was something realli important you had to get off your chest!)
• He always makes time for you when you most need him
• He doesn't protest when you flick the football over to watch Grey's Anatomy
• He doesn't have a beer belly & his toes are hair free
• He won't screw you over or break your heart
• You can stretch his arms & legs really far which is strangely quite therapeutic
• I get to share him with my best friend & our 3some isn't awkward

My children will go to St Trinians (or todays equivalent. . .)

So today a frined outlined her future plans for the education of her adopted children (she is a small child hater & therefore plans to bypass the stretch marks & wingeing stage). So the troubled teenage offspring out of care are going to be shipped off to boarding school for lessons in homo-sexual intercourse and dealing weed! Important life lessons didnt you know that everyone should be inducted into. Of course i'll have to re-name them she notes or else they won't fit into the clique perhpas Storm, Persia or Priscilla would suit. & wot if they don't want to leave home i ask? well im going to be such an awful mother that they wont be able to get shot of me sooner she replies. Hmm fair.