Oh My God! Two Sleeps!

Just writing that made me so excited I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight. Which means (Oh My God) ONE sleep!! How can I sleep, knowing there's only ONE sleep left?

My God: NO SLEEPS. I'm practically there.

I'm not qualified for this blog!

I feel I should apologise to anyone who thinks I'm presenting myself here as some sort of cunt-expert. It has come to my attention that there are wondrous things happening down there that I have no idea about. A b s o l u t e l y NONE.

I was recently lucky enough to be lying next to a handsome young man who was happily making his fingers busy in my cunt-region when he said something potentially fascinating. He started to make comment about the "physiological response" of cunts to sexual arousal. I interrupted him, partly because I assumed he was just going to talk about getting wet and partly because I had something important to say ("oooh, ooo, mmmm , mmm mm" as I recall). But, looking back, I'm certain he was about to describe some response other than wetness, something other, something, something... my mind boggles.

And then the other day the boy (darling, darling boy) decided to put tongue to cunt and grabbed a nearby towel. When I quizzed him he shrugged & said "I never swallow".

Swallow??! Exactly what is he anticipating my cunt will produce that will be swallow-worthy? Needing a cloth to wipe away moisture I can understand but swallow?? I'm producing a meal (or at least a snack) down there??

I have so much to learn. So very much.

I'm bloody sick of bloody whimsical little bloody pictures of girls doing bloody fuck-all. (bloody)

This post goes out to the remarkable Ms PolkaDot who manages to consistently create adorable crafts that are NOT benign. No mean feat, in my book.

There have been a rash of 'crafts' infesting the artsy stores & gallerys of this town for some time depicting blank-faced misses doing sweet fuck-all and I am disturbed. I am very disturbed.




Where are their hands? Do they have hands?





Why do they spend an inordinate amount of time swinging?



Just swinging...



But they're never shown climbing up to the swing??



And for God's sake - tell me where their mouths have gone!



They either have tiny puckered up (closed) pinch-pot lips or



NO MOUTH AT ALL



It is extremely creepy.



*shudder*

Hot Date 101

Today I'm going to use the time-honoured 'Do' & 'Don't' list technique. It should be invaluable experience for if I ever get a job writing for a trashy 'womens' magazine plus it shouldn't tax my my post-hot date scattered brain too much.

Do

try & ask Hot Date plenty of questions that require complex answers just so you can listen to their sexy accent.

Don't

bother telling Hot Date that you have forgotten their name. There are much more exciting ways to discover the information. Such as getting them to book a table at the restaurant (hopefully in their name) or mentioning a friend's name, suggesting that they might want to move in together & hoping they respond with "That'd be kind of weird having two N's in the house". That last one might seem like a bit of a long shot but it worked for me, it really did!

Don't

go to Bar Open. Actually I think this can be a blanket rule for hot dates, cold dates, non dates ALL TIME. I think my liver and the community in general would be much happier if I stayed away.

Do

ask Hot Date's age. I spent the entire first two courses feeling like a deviant because I suspected he was twelve. As it happens he is two years older than me, just a particularly beautiful specimen.

Don't

decide to shave your cunt for the first time half an hour before you meet with Hot Date. The terrain is undulating down there! It's very tricky to deal quickly with every crook and curve and it's considered impolite to inflict stubble-rash on a Hot Date's groin.

Dad, get out of my mind, I'm trying to be all grown-up here

I had a telephone tiff with my father last night which has lassoed around my mind and dragged me out of bed in the still-dark morning. I'd like to exorcise my angst here but I'm finding it hard to think how I can relate it to the theme of 'cunt' without getting all Freudian on your arse. If only I'd chosen a broader blog topic like certain wise wordsmiths...

It's astonishing how easily this man can send my stomach somersaulting as though it belongs to His Daughter circa 1994. We've been getting along so much better since he moved waaaaaay out woop woop & I'm a grown woman now, damn it! *stamping foot for emphasis*

The topic was my plan to travel to Thailand in the very near future. Perhaps I use the word 'plan' more loosely than most, Dad certainly seems to think so.

Dad: Now, have you done anything further to organise your trip?

Me: Well, I haven't heard back about my visa yet so.... (actually I haven't applied for one yet but he has no way of knowing this unless he is a psychic psycho so he's got no cause to get narky about it right? Right!)

D: And how much money do you have? Because it is imperative that you don't end up in a foreign country without any money.

M: Well I'm not exactly sure yet 'cause there are a few things that aren't settled yet like I'm not sure if I'll get a visa so I'm not sure how long I can stay and I've applied for a loan but I'm not sure...

D: Exactly how much money do you have?

M: Well, about $this but then I owe A(my sister) about $this so...

D: That is ridiculous!

M: But if I get the loan...

D: Ridiculous! You can't just wind up in a foreign country with no money and no insurance.

M: Dad, I promised I'd get insurance...

D: It's unrealistic!

M: I haven't asked you for any money. I'm not asking you to support me...

D: You've got to learn to take responsibility!

M: You can't speak to me like that any more, Dad

D: Like what!? I never speak to you like this! (quote of the conversation, I reckon)

M: I...

D: Ask anyone and they'll tell you it's ridiculous!

M: I...

D: Unless they're a fool

M: *squeak*

D: A fool!!!

Then I dropped the handset & picked it up to hear his end clicking down - I'm sure he thinks I hung up on him, oh bluck.

I wasn't sure exactly what to do at this point - the occassion seemed to call for a good dose of bedroom-door slamming. Instead I ate some chocolate and indulged in some intricate daydreams about myself languishing in a hellish Thai prison having suffered some terrible calamity that had left me penniless and injured (though NOT disfigured in any way - a limp would probably be ideal). I would quietly and with great dignity bear my misfortune without once considering relinquishing my pride to call my father for assistance.

*sigh*

It must be quite stressful being a parent (even a distant one) to me. I am not exactly known for being practical. Of course I'd expect my father to bail me out if I got stranded - I just haven't really considered the possibility of getting stranded. I guess I'd better go and get myself organised.

*sulk, pout, sulk*