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
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Monday, September 7, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, August 31, 2009
I'm in trouble.
With some of you lot apparently for not posting for a while.
And probably also with Riley because he's about to get home from school and there is no food in the house.
Anyway here I am, just quickly checking in before I go back to the land of lawyers, accountants and commercial real estate agents as we finish off buying this business. It's an exhilarating time but super stressful as well. So, I just got back to Auckland after dashing off to Wellington with S for the weekend. We haven't seen a lot of each other lately so spent a weekend rugged up in a hotel, ordering room service and lounging around, going for stormy walks and catching up with family and friends.
We worked out we haven't been away together on our own since we went to New York 2 years ago. And while Wellington isn't quite Manhattan, we had the nicest time.
So nice I left him down there for the rest of the week.
Right, better dash and see if I can whip some afternoon tea up for my boy. I have a limp carrot, some crackers and a red onion to work with.
Oh, and I still have a sore bum but will be back later today to tell you all about that.
Bet you can't wait.
And probably also with Riley because he's about to get home from school and there is no food in the house.
Anyway here I am, just quickly checking in before I go back to the land of lawyers, accountants and commercial real estate agents as we finish off buying this business. It's an exhilarating time but super stressful as well. So, I just got back to Auckland after dashing off to Wellington with S for the weekend. We haven't seen a lot of each other lately so spent a weekend rugged up in a hotel, ordering room service and lounging around, going for stormy walks and catching up with family and friends.
We worked out we haven't been away together on our own since we went to New York 2 years ago. And while Wellington isn't quite Manhattan, we had the nicest time.
So nice I left him down there for the rest of the week.
Right, better dash and see if I can whip some afternoon tea up for my boy. I have a limp carrot, some crackers and a red onion to work with.
Oh, and I still have a sore bum but will be back later today to tell you all about that.
Bet you can't wait.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Hump Day.
It’s Wednesday today. Hump day.
Which I thought everyone knew but after my last post about making school lunches on hump day and the following conversation, it seems I need to clarify things, to S at least.
S: “You know what day it is today Livvy” Wink. Wink. Stupid grin.
O: “Wednesday?”
S: “It’s hump day!” Wink. Wink. Even stupider grin.
Um, no.
Today is hump day, as in the middle of the working week, day.
Not shag day.
Or root day.
And not even blowie day.
Just hump day.
Which I thought everyone knew but after my last post about making school lunches on hump day and the following conversation, it seems I need to clarify things, to S at least.
S: “You know what day it is today Livvy” Wink. Wink. Stupid grin.
O: “Wednesday?”
S: “It’s hump day!” Wink. Wink. Even stupider grin.
Um, no.
Today is hump day, as in the middle of the working week, day.
Not shag day.
Or root day.
And not even blowie day.
Just hump day.
Friday, August 21, 2009
No ham, no more.
Wednesday used to be my favourite day of the week. Not just because it is hump day but because Riley used to order sushi for his school lunch on Wednesday’s.
You see, making Riley’s lunch is, I think, one of the worst jobs that come with being his mum. Thankfully I normally only have to do it 2-3 times a week depending on when he is at his dad’s. But on the days when it’s my turn, well let’s just say that the times when we have something left over from dinner the night before that I can chuck in his lunch box, are up there in terms of most satisfying moments of all time.
Actually, I think if S. thought about it he’d work out that left over days might correlate with when he gets satisfied too.
This term though Riley has decided he hates me, I mean sushi, and now I have to fossick around the kitchen looking for something to put in his lunch box that:
1).contains some nutritional value
2).is cool - he hated it that time I gave him a Blues Clues yoghurt but seriously, how was I meant to know they were for 3 year olds?
3).isn’t completely out of a packet, and,
4).isn’t an apple, because he hates apples even more than sushi.
And now to make things even worse some nerd in a laboratory has come up with the crap that kids shouldn’t be having ham or salami in their school lunches as it can give them cancer.
And they’re not allowed peanut butter either. I understand why but peanut butter has always been a good staple sandwich filler for when you’re out of ham so really, I’m completely fucked now aren’t I?
Clearly I don’t want my child to get cancer. And I don’t want his mates to have an allergic reaction to peanut butter (well, most of them anyway). But this is a major disaster.
Just ask S: Riley can’t get no ham but S. can’t get no satisfaction.
You see, making Riley’s lunch is, I think, one of the worst jobs that come with being his mum. Thankfully I normally only have to do it 2-3 times a week depending on when he is at his dad’s. But on the days when it’s my turn, well let’s just say that the times when we have something left over from dinner the night before that I can chuck in his lunch box, are up there in terms of most satisfying moments of all time.
Actually, I think if S. thought about it he’d work out that left over days might correlate with when he gets satisfied too.
This term though Riley has decided he hates me, I mean sushi, and now I have to fossick around the kitchen looking for something to put in his lunch box that:
1).contains some nutritional value
2).is cool - he hated it that time I gave him a Blues Clues yoghurt but seriously, how was I meant to know they were for 3 year olds?
3).isn’t completely out of a packet, and,
4).isn’t an apple, because he hates apples even more than sushi.
And now to make things even worse some nerd in a laboratory has come up with the crap that kids shouldn’t be having ham or salami in their school lunches as it can give them cancer.
And they’re not allowed peanut butter either. I understand why but peanut butter has always been a good staple sandwich filler for when you’re out of ham so really, I’m completely fucked now aren’t I?
Clearly I don’t want my child to get cancer. And I don’t want his mates to have an allergic reaction to peanut butter (well, most of them anyway). But this is a major disaster.
Just ask S: Riley can’t get no ham but S. can’t get no satisfaction.
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