There is a risk that I could lose some of my followers by this post but I can't pretend any longer...

I just don’t get the fascination with Simon Baker.



Sure, he seems like a nice family man and he’s not ugly.

But I think he looks filthy.

Not in a ‘let’s have filthy sex’ way if you know what I mean (and I am sure you do).

But filthy in a ‘he needs a really good wash behind his ears way’.

Ew, and especially his hair.

But George on the other hand...



Well that’d definitely be filthy sex.

AND he’d have clean ears.

My (rather large) stomach.

Seriously, why do people think they can comment on the size of your stomach when you are pregnant?

I saw possibly the fattest woman in the world at the supermarket yesterday but I didn’t consider, not even for a moment, to say ‘oh my god, look at your stomach!’

It was tempting though, especially because she had way too many packets of Tim Tams in her trolley, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

Until I got home and ate my own packet of Tim Tams that is.

But apparently because I am pregnant it’s totally fine to comment on my stomach.

And my boobs.

Usually I just shrug, blush and feel like crying but hold it together (because no one likes a crying pregnant woman), or if it’s a close friend tell them to fuck off. But from now on I am going to try a new approach.

The following are some of the actual comments I have received. There have been more but these are some of the best. And below them are going to be my new responses.

Wow, you’re big aren’t you?

Wow, you’re a bitch aren’t you?’

Oh my god, look at your belly! It’s SO big!

Oh my god, look at your arse, it’s SO fucking huge!

Wow, you’re showing rather a lot aren’t you?

Wow, you’re showing how stupid you are, aren’t you?’

Far out mate, your boobs have got pretty big haven’t they?

Far out mate, your boobs have got droopy haven’t they?

Gee, you’ve got a 10 pounder in there!

Gee, you’ve clearly got no brain in there!

But the real killer is, they’re right. I am huge, my boobs are massive and it is likely to be a 10lb baby. With a HUGE head.

Fuckers.

Right, where was I?

Ah yes, I'd just come back from a big break and promised to be back soon. Oops, it's the next year even. But lots to tell so hopefully you'll forgive me.

Starting with getting married! Yep, S and I threw a garden party at the end of November to celebrate the baby, the business, my birthday and Christmas and added a wedding to the mix.

It was the best day - very casual but very pretty, lots of good food and wine and all our favourite people. I wore purple, Riley was the best man and S gave me a very large diamond - truly the best day!

I still had a sore arse though.

And then Christmas came and it was pretty average to be honest. Lots of running around after other people and rushing to get places.

And the worst thing of all? NO pavlova!

And then the second worse thing?

An operation on that arse.

Oh. My. God.

Being pregnant meant I couldn't have a general. Ouch.

Fuck me, 10 days later my eyes are still watering remembering it. The upcoming birth will be a breeze compared to that. Even with the very fat head this baby is likely to have.

It's fixed it though. My arse is sore no longer.

What on earth can I possibly blog about now?

Anyone still out there?

Wow, nearly 3 months since I blogged.
Crazy.

LOTS to report, including the fact that my arse is still sore.

(I know that's what you've been dying to know).

We bought that business.

And I am pregnant.

So forgive me for neglecting my blog during this frantic time but I've had alternative bum creams to research.

Will be back again soon. x

Household chores. Including sex.

The lovely Mia Freedman over at MamaMia today shared a News Ltd report on reasons why women have sex, saying that for every woman expecting the earth to move, there are two with more practical motives.

It was Mia’s tweet that caught my eye: “Why do women have sex. You may be surprised”. I like surprises so headed on over to her site.

“... with 84 per cent admitting to having sex just to ensure a quiet life or to bargain for household chores. One woman said: "I have sex to relieve the boredom because it's easier than fighting. Plus it gives me something to do."

And I am surprised. Not at the reasons but that ONLY 84% said this had happened to them.

Not that I can say that I have ever had sex just for something to do – normally if I am bored and want something to do I eat too much crap, ready trashy magazines, have a bath, go for a walk, watch crap on TV or for fucks sake, even wax my fanny if I’m desperate.

But I TOTALLY get the ‘it’s easier than fighting’ gig.

Plus it’s the only 7 minutes that he is quiet. And even then he’s not completely quiet but at least I don’t have to listen to any of his stories. Not that he hasn’t tried...

And I LOVE the bargaining for chores idea! Our windows are filthy. Probably because we have lived here for 4 years and they have only been cleaned twice. But if S decided he’d clean them, well I’d fuck him for that.

Same with cleaning my car.

And cleaning the oven.

Oh God, the oven!

Crikey, there’s no stopping what I’d left him do if he cleaned the oven.

No news...

I’m struggling a bit with what to write about here at the moment.

I can’t possibly write any more about my sore bum.

Well, I could but I'd probably lose the few readers I do have.

And I can’t tell you much about what I am up to work wise because it’s still on the down low. I can tell you it's VERY exciting though.

Except for dealing with the bank. It's taking all my willpower not to send a shit in the mail to my "Relationship Manager". He should be scared because I don't have a lot of willpower (as my rapidly tightening jeans would concur).

So yeah, not much to report sorry.

You’ll just have to settle for a photo of me from a party I went to the other night.

It was a Brangalina theme.

The continuing saga of the arse cream.

Just when we all thought, me included, that I couldn’t possibly write about my arse or the gold plated arse cream any more, here I am. Sorry.

OK, so the bum cream, all $70 worth, has had a big impact but not quite big enough and I had to see a specialist bum doctor last week.

BTW, how does one become a bum doctor? Do you think kids grow up saying “when I get bigger I am going to be a bum doctor”? Is it up there with super heroes, fairy princesses and firemen? And if they do dream of it, I wonder if they have a back up choice that is equally gross like, I dunno, embalmer or dental hygienist.

I just don’t get how anyone can choose to look at arses all day. And it’s multiple too – the doctor told me that she saw about 5 or 6 cases of my condition each day. And that’s just my type of sore bum. I imagine she would see lots of patients with colon cancer, haemorrhoids and heaps of other arse complaints each day. Actually I don’t know what other arse complaints there could be but I am sure there are heaps of them and she gets to look at them too.

Oh and just so you know, I don’t need to know what the other conditions are and thanks, but I don’t need to see any photos of any conditions either so please keep your arse photos the same place as your diet pills.

Right, so the bum specialist charged me $190 to have a look at my jacksy. Now, I might have a belly to give Homer Simpson a run for his money but I don’t have a large arse so it didn’t take that long, maybe 5 minutes tops which is a pretty good hourly rate. Plus a further $40 for some different bum cream and then, get this, this takes the cake, wait for it...

$80 for some things to stick right up my arse!

And they weren’t those vibrating ball things that I’ve seen at fuck-aware parties either.

Believe me, $80 bought me no pleasure at all. Not that I personally think vibrating things up your arse would give you much pleasure anyway but whatever.

On second thoughts I can now poo without feeling like I am pooing glass so there's some pleasure in that.

But is it $80 worth of pleasure?

Some new lippy and a couple of pairs of knickers probably would have given me more.

S too.