testing. times & this.

So this is a test of blogging via my phone.

It's also a test of my strength because I'm blogging in a hospital bed after having had surgery today - long, complicated story: was pregnant, now not, possibility of bigger and scarier problems.

I've generally been a believer in "good things happen to good people" but fuck me, these past few years have tested that theory well and truly.

But I refuse to believe that although I might not be funny these days, that I'm not good.

Sure I swear (including saying cunt) and I even swear at old ladies who steal my car park (including saying cunt) and I might secretly wish harm on someone who used to work for me and I might even forget to get anything in the post for Mothers Day, but I'm still good.

Fucking good even.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[geo_mashup_save_location lat="-36.7701" lng="174.7311"]

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Getting around to it.

Updating my blog isn't the only thing I haven't got around to doing lately.

I've been so busy lately with renovating, the business, taking Riley to 5 million cricket practices a week, watching Riley's cricket and being pregnant, that a few things have been let go.

So today (well actually yesterday because it's now 3.30am and I can't sleep for the 564th night in a row - ANOTHER fucking treat that comes with being pregnant!) I wanted to put a stop to a couple of these neglected things.

So I got my fanny waxed for the first time since December.

Meh, I know that's disgraceful and I am normally a four weekly girl but I kinda figure that if I can't see it, then surely I don't have to maintain it, right?

Because, let's be honest, it could be on fire and I wouldn't know right now.

Anyway, it's done and I've also updated my blog.

Now I suppose I should go back upstairs, wake my husband up and do something else I haven't got around to for ages.

At least he'd be able to find his way now.

Three in the bed.

Last night I had a threesome.

And S wasn’t one of the three. In fact, he’s out of town for the week so I have been enjoying having the bed to myself - I can sprawl right across it and I can even put my head under the covers without risking death.

Instead it was these guys I slept with.



Although I've always been partial to a man in uniform, I’m not really sure why they were in bed with me. I vaguely recall stuffing them in the pocket of my jeans on Sunday after my nephew threw them at me, but I wasn’t wearing my jeans in bed...

But anyway, why is that guy on the left looking so angry? We’ve talked about how I don’t have a future ahead of me as a hooker, but surely I can’t be that bad to sleep with that I make you angry?

Whereas the guy on the right with the stupid grin on his face, well he’s the only guy with facial hair like that that’d I’d ever sleep with and clearly he knows it.

Although neither him or I were smiling earlier this morning when I got up to take the dog out and stood on him.

Trust me when I say there is very little that hurts more than standing barefoot on Lego. It fucking hurts.

Except maybe trying to squeeze a baby that is almost 9lb and has a head the size of a watermelon, out of your vagina. That fucking hurts too.

And when that’s happening, you wish that you really had only slept with Lego men.

A good looking feijoa-ina.

After my last post Anonymous commented that I must be pleased I have a good looking feijoa-ina and to think of the career options.

True, I guess I am proud of how she looks - well, what I can see of her at least - but as far as career options, what exactly are they? We all know I need a job so maybe this is the break I am looking for.

I can’t be a hooker, we’ve already discussed that. And just to confirm, if the fact that I am a crap lay isn’t enough of a reason, my friend C told me that if I wasn’t prepared to go to her Tupperware party because I didn’t like playing games with strangers, then I definitely couldn’t be a hooker.

But what other options are there? Any thoughts? I’m struggling.

The only thing I can think of is a stunt double.

“Excuse me Ms Zeta-Jones, any time you don’t wanna flash your flange I’ll do it for you”.

You have such a pretty face.

People have been saying that to me all my life.

But it’s normally followed by an "if only you weren’t so fat", that is either unsaid, or said if you are my mother.

This week a very dear friend rang me to tell me that a fat ladies shop was looking for models for NZ Fashion Week and she thought I should apply.

I didn’t know whether to be flattered or fucked off.

But today it all changed. It seems it's not just my face that is pretty after all.

I was having my waxing done and was propositioned.

“We’re looking for models – are you interested?”

Feijoa-ina.

Vagina.

That’s the technical term but it sounds a bit clinical for the purposes of this blog (or for using mid sex I reckon) so let’s try and come up with another term I can use on here.

I generally use ‘fanny’ but since it is S’s grandmother’s name and I’d hate him to be thinking of that fanny while he was anywhere near mine and since could be confusing for all (ha!) my readers from the USA, I think I should keep trying.

My son calls it a feijoa-ina. For those of you not from NZ, a feijoa is a fruit that tastes kinda like a guava and smells like, well, a feijoa.

Not like fish or chicken.

Sometimes I call it a ‘va-jay-jay’ but I always think that I sound like I am trying to be Oprah. Although I would like to have something else in common with her other than being fat.

Pussy. That’s what S calls it but I dunno, it sounds pretty porno. During the recent miscarriage saga I overheard a conversation he had with one of his sisters, who is in her late 50’s.

“Yes, so then Livvy had a scan of her pussy...”.

Ew!

Wrong.

A friend told her daughter it was called “Madge the Vadge”. Cute when she’s 4 but when she’s 20 and telling her boyfriend it’s called Madge is kinda like having another person in the bed, don’t you think? Then again, she might like that. He certainly would.

Then there’s that word starting with c that rhymes with hunt. At the risk of offending my readers (that’s the advantage of having none I guess!) ‘hunt’ is fine as an expletive when fuck just doesn’t do it but not great for describing your vagina in every day conversation.

Snatch?

Growler?

Beaver?

Muff?

Pink bits?

Gash?

Cooch?

Box?

Beef curtains?

I have to stop, R just asked me what was so funny and I’m not explaining this to him.

Fanny it is.