I have felt the agony of being cheated on. I have felt the guilt of cheating on someone and I have also felt the loneliness of being the woman someone cheats with.
When your in love with someone your back to back with them, fighting off the world and when you realise someone has wedged in between you, your now fighting off the world from all angles. Nobodies got your back. Sorry means nothing- part of you thinks that finding out every detail if the betrayal will take away the mystery and take away and secrets this woman shares with your secret keeper or bonds she holds with your rock. But inevitably the details will only hurt you more and thus a bad idea as your protector is no longer doing his job and you need to step in his place and fill that roll by protecting yourself from such images. Might have been one small fuck up or might have been a year long fuck up but either way you feel lost, your little corner of the world has been invaded and you believe there will be more comfort in the bottom of a bottle of Jacks then you ll ever find in your bed again. All of the sudden your lonely.
Cheating never feels remotely similar to being cheated on. Its just as they say, "a bad decision" half the time you cant even remember you did it and other times you'll never forget the deep thrill of the new forbidden skin. You'll either regret it straight away or you regret it later on. There is nothing sexy about being sneaky, about hurting someone you love and theres certainly nothing sexy about being miserable in you home life. This of course is something that we'd all like to believe- Ill only cheat or be cheated on if my relationships going down the drain. But its not the case, we slip up and we land on our love. The combination of beers and flattery or wine and long legs is what we need to convince our selves that the angel waiting patiently between our clean sheets at home is less then perfect and deserves this. Or we deserve this. After woods you've hurt someone and in doing so hurt yourself and the one person you go to that bring you back to yourself you cant tell. All of the sudden your lonely.
I'm a mistress, I'm the other woman, I'm younger and more fun. How ever you put it you know deep down that your second best. You ll always know that someone else gets to sleep the full night, someone else gets to make future plans, someone else gets that respect that either comes from bearing children or a long history. There is another woman that calls out your lovers name while shes bathing his children, and can make him loose it laughing without even looking up at him. You cant yell at him, you cant kiss him at the checkout, cant go on a road trip together and cant call him at work. But you look dam good in a g-string. All of the sudden your lonely.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Public Masturbating
Its rude to point at someone, its ruder to stare at someone. Spitting at someone is vile and reserved for only the classiest of folk (train station dwellers.) But an all new low... and a rudeness with its own community of rude is masturbating at someone. What does one call this activity? its not flashing, its not molesting its masturbating at someone. Some characteristics of a extroverted masturbator is the inability to walk, they lurk. The inability to sit still, they shake- not a scared shake, more of a cold shake (imagine a whippet) They have strange sleeping hours, almost nocturnal.
One freezing cold Melbourne morning my sister left our house to go to work, she was doing the breakfast shift at the local cafe. She briskly walked to the tram stop to read the timetable. My poor innocent sister noticed the shadow of a lurker but thought nothing of it as she stepped into a doorway to keep warm while waiting for the tram. That's when he struck. Around the corner popped the pathetic excuse, pants down, dick in hand, desperate look on his face as he started to masturbate towards her. My poor sister ran all the way to work. Mortified.
Now I'm not naive to the fact that men love there dicks. Nor do I think I'm the only one who's been in the following situation......
Girl gets drunks, girl meets guy, goes home with guy, gets into bed and realises shes to drunk and not into it so opts to pass out instead. (Come on we've all done it) Funny part is when guy gets desperate and after trying to wake the girl up for 15 Min's realises he has to take matters into his own hands and proceeds to wank right there in front of her.
Orgasms arn't the only thing we ladies fake, we also fake sleep. So cheers for that one fellas doesn't leave us feeling awkward at all!
When I discussed this scenario with a girlfriend she admitted shed been there but didn't think there was anything wrong with it.
Anyway I'm not that understanding, I don't see it as a mans need to get off or a beautiful thing. I don't feel the need to celebrate a mans cock at every opportunity nor do I see his orgasm as an imminent ceremony.
To me these acts are desperate showcasing a sexual greed and lack of control. But a lack of self control that Iv learnt to tollorate. Should have just coughed up for a cab home.
The real villains in the story and the public masturbator... The train station wanker, the guy on a date with himself in the sand dune and the cinema creep camouflaged in all the different shades if fowl.
So after carefully reminiscing the time I almost bumped into a guy doing a poo under a statue in Madrid and the overweight, half naked hooker that looked to be halfway through her menstrual cycle on high rd Kilburn- Iv come to the conclusion that if you places public masturbators in a community with all the above and worse they would still find themselves the guy in the town being referred to as 'The Rude Guy'
One freezing cold Melbourne morning my sister left our house to go to work, she was doing the breakfast shift at the local cafe. She briskly walked to the tram stop to read the timetable. My poor innocent sister noticed the shadow of a lurker but thought nothing of it as she stepped into a doorway to keep warm while waiting for the tram. That's when he struck. Around the corner popped the pathetic excuse, pants down, dick in hand, desperate look on his face as he started to masturbate towards her. My poor sister ran all the way to work. Mortified.
Now I'm not naive to the fact that men love there dicks. Nor do I think I'm the only one who's been in the following situation......
Girl gets drunks, girl meets guy, goes home with guy, gets into bed and realises shes to drunk and not into it so opts to pass out instead. (Come on we've all done it) Funny part is when guy gets desperate and after trying to wake the girl up for 15 Min's realises he has to take matters into his own hands and proceeds to wank right there in front of her.
Orgasms arn't the only thing we ladies fake, we also fake sleep. So cheers for that one fellas doesn't leave us feeling awkward at all!
When I discussed this scenario with a girlfriend she admitted shed been there but didn't think there was anything wrong with it.
Anyway I'm not that understanding, I don't see it as a mans need to get off or a beautiful thing. I don't feel the need to celebrate a mans cock at every opportunity nor do I see his orgasm as an imminent ceremony.
To me these acts are desperate showcasing a sexual greed and lack of control. But a lack of self control that Iv learnt to tollorate. Should have just coughed up for a cab home.
The real villains in the story and the public masturbator... The train station wanker, the guy on a date with himself in the sand dune and the cinema creep camouflaged in all the different shades if fowl.
So after carefully reminiscing the time I almost bumped into a guy doing a poo under a statue in Madrid and the overweight, half naked hooker that looked to be halfway through her menstrual cycle on high rd Kilburn- Iv come to the conclusion that if you places public masturbators in a community with all the above and worse they would still find themselves the guy in the town being referred to as 'The Rude Guy'
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
I was just writing a blog, it wasn't going anywhere so I was getting slightly agitated. When my charming boyfriend slumped on the couch, picked up the remote and told me I had bloggers block. Naturally I told him to get fucked. Then with a smugness that only he can project he warned me against biting the hand that feeds me.
Stubbing my toe doesn't piss me off as much as my boyfriend does. Once when I was little I cut up a piece of Vegemite toast into tiny little square pieces, so exited to eat them I ran to the lounge room- tripped- and every single square landed Vegemite down. That didn't piss me off as much as my boyfriend does.
Here is an example of a Friday night in our house. Billy finishes work, tells me his going out. I ask if I can come, he says "sure" but when I actually look like I might do it he starts getting annoyed. So I tell him its fine Ill just drop him off. I ask him to empty the babies bath water while I put her in the car. I ask him, "What time will you be home? doesn't bother me I just want to know if I should cook dinner" he replies "7 at the latest babe, I'm exhausted from work. Love you"
"Love you too"
OK that's all well and good so I cook dinner. 10pm comes and my sweetheart stumbles through the door with his friend Clive. He declares to me "Clive's dumping his girlfriend, selling his house and moving back to England and Iv decided to do the same"
"OK Billy" (you can tell I'm used to this) So I leave them to it and go to bed, I sleep in the spare bed to avoid being woken up. Of course I cant sleep with the music and football and TV- finally he goes to bed after 12. I'm now starting to worry as I know the baby will wake me up at 5am and I wont get enough sleep. Then just as I manage to drift off I hear my dog Elvis barking and the neighbours telling him to shut the fuck up. So furious I drag myself out of bed, between Elvis barking and Billy's snoring I'm ready to throw a punch. I call Elvy and let him in. He does what he always does and runs straight to the bathroom for a sniff, its dark in there, he jumps into the bath and then realises its full. Poor little dog stands there shaking and in shock. The smell is putrid as I haven't bathed him in ages. I was ropable. Billy had forgotten to empty the bath.
Now If theres one thing my obsessive compulsive boyfriend hates is dirt and mess. So the only thing that I could think of to do was open our bedroom door where Bill was sleeping and let my saturated stink bomb curl up in between snoring Bill and his cotton sheets.
In the morning its- "Morning babe, Elvy slept with me"
"morning babe, that's nice dear"
I have to get off the computer so his Holiness can play medieval war games. xxx
Stubbing my toe doesn't piss me off as much as my boyfriend does. Once when I was little I cut up a piece of Vegemite toast into tiny little square pieces, so exited to eat them I ran to the lounge room- tripped- and every single square landed Vegemite down. That didn't piss me off as much as my boyfriend does.
Here is an example of a Friday night in our house. Billy finishes work, tells me his going out. I ask if I can come, he says "sure" but when I actually look like I might do it he starts getting annoyed. So I tell him its fine Ill just drop him off. I ask him to empty the babies bath water while I put her in the car. I ask him, "What time will you be home? doesn't bother me I just want to know if I should cook dinner" he replies "7 at the latest babe, I'm exhausted from work. Love you"
"Love you too"
OK that's all well and good so I cook dinner. 10pm comes and my sweetheart stumbles through the door with his friend Clive. He declares to me "Clive's dumping his girlfriend, selling his house and moving back to England and Iv decided to do the same"
"OK Billy" (you can tell I'm used to this) So I leave them to it and go to bed, I sleep in the spare bed to avoid being woken up. Of course I cant sleep with the music and football and TV- finally he goes to bed after 12. I'm now starting to worry as I know the baby will wake me up at 5am and I wont get enough sleep. Then just as I manage to drift off I hear my dog Elvis barking and the neighbours telling him to shut the fuck up. So furious I drag myself out of bed, between Elvis barking and Billy's snoring I'm ready to throw a punch. I call Elvy and let him in. He does what he always does and runs straight to the bathroom for a sniff, its dark in there, he jumps into the bath and then realises its full. Poor little dog stands there shaking and in shock. The smell is putrid as I haven't bathed him in ages. I was ropable. Billy had forgotten to empty the bath.
Now If theres one thing my obsessive compulsive boyfriend hates is dirt and mess. So the only thing that I could think of to do was open our bedroom door where Bill was sleeping and let my saturated stink bomb curl up in between snoring Bill and his cotton sheets.
In the morning its- "Morning babe, Elvy slept with me"
"morning babe, that's nice dear"
I have to get off the computer so his Holiness can play medieval war games. xxx
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Ode to my Ex.
Dear Ex, Thank you. You taught me so much...
You taught me tolerance.. At first I learnt to tolerate your constant jealousy, then listening to you breath in and out required tolerance- eventually I learnt to tolerate you like a bush fella does the fly on his face.
You taught me compassion, after months of paying your rent I learnt to have compassion for everyone you bleed off not to mention an extreme amount of sympathy for myself.
You and your small dick taught me how to enjoy sex, having experienced nothing but your sexual gluttony for so long, when I finally moved on- somebody so much as opening the taxi door for me was enough to make me climax.
You taught me not to sweat the small things, who would worry about the toilet seat being left up when theres also spew down the side of your bed.
Your Rabi approach to dividing a bill at dinner, it has taught me to budget.
You taught me how wonderful my friends are, they love me enough to come over for coffee even though they had to sit on the same couch as you while you sat in nothing but your jocks and pulled a bong they still came.
You taught me Independence, bailing on me for your dead shit mates every time we went out taught me to rely only on myself.
You taught me to take care of my body, coming home to you at 3am David Hassle-Scoffing a pizza would teach anyone to eat well.
You taught me the importance of financial stability, The memory of you knee deep in dust because you could have sworn you vacuumed up 20cents earlier that week is one Ill never forget.
Finally my dear Ex thank you so much for dumping me, I could have never put all these lessons to use had you not have.
In the words of Celine Dion "I'm everything I am because you loved me"xxx
You taught me tolerance.. At first I learnt to tolerate your constant jealousy, then listening to you breath in and out required tolerance- eventually I learnt to tolerate you like a bush fella does the fly on his face.
You taught me compassion, after months of paying your rent I learnt to have compassion for everyone you bleed off not to mention an extreme amount of sympathy for myself.
You and your small dick taught me how to enjoy sex, having experienced nothing but your sexual gluttony for so long, when I finally moved on- somebody so much as opening the taxi door for me was enough to make me climax.
You taught me not to sweat the small things, who would worry about the toilet seat being left up when theres also spew down the side of your bed.
Your Rabi approach to dividing a bill at dinner, it has taught me to budget.
You taught me how wonderful my friends are, they love me enough to come over for coffee even though they had to sit on the same couch as you while you sat in nothing but your jocks and pulled a bong they still came.
You taught me Independence, bailing on me for your dead shit mates every time we went out taught me to rely only on myself.
You taught me to take care of my body, coming home to you at 3am David Hassle-Scoffing a pizza would teach anyone to eat well.
You taught me the importance of financial stability, The memory of you knee deep in dust because you could have sworn you vacuumed up 20cents earlier that week is one Ill never forget.
Finally my dear Ex thank you so much for dumping me, I could have never put all these lessons to use had you not have.
In the words of Celine Dion "I'm everything I am because you loved me"xxx
Monday, November 16, 2009
Lifes little rules
Husky voiced woman are better lovers- Benders are cool as long as your not over 23- Only woman can drive with the roofs off convertibles- Joints are fine/bongs are not- babies should never be named after celebrities, days of the week or fruit- Don't pull out a two for one voucher on a date, also if complaining about the food on a date do it after you've paid- Don't keep friends that repulse you to look at- Never eat a whole chicken- forgive your mother in law, she doesn't mean to be a nosey cow-Men with dead mothers should always be considered for marriage- Don't trust deep or spiritual face book status updates- blowing raspberries on your babies necks is good luck-Get farting over and done with early in a relationship, it only gets harder the longer you wait- never go out with a guy who's tits are bigger then yours- when your kids are sleeping with there mouths open, poke your nose in and have a sniff, this is what true love smells like- when your lover has food in there teeth pick it out and eat it, this is what true love tastes like- Have compassion for people with no chins- Avoid men who put on baby voices, its possible they weren't breastfed for long enough- Avoid woman who refer to themselves in third person, they will prove to be high maintenance- Indians lie-
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I know from experience that if you hardly ever let your boyfriend go out then when he finally does he'll get totally shit faced and stay out all night... They feel the need to 'make it last'. However I also know that men apply the same mentality to receiving blow jobs. There you are sucking your heart out praying to hear those two words "I'm coming" only the feel your fella tensing up, holding on, some times even trembling with might trying to prolong the blow job or to 'make it last'
We women approach receiving head differently. We pull you guys back up when we think you might have had enough. That is of course on the rare occasion that you venture down there....
A recent study conducted in the USA showed that 70% of female high school girls had performed oral sex (I'm home schooling my daughter). Surprising? not really. However the same study revealed that only 12% of high school girls had received oral sex. Surprising? no, however appalling and a statistic that sets the bar for the rest of our sexual life.
So why do men consider there sexual satisfaction up there with world peace and global warming while ours is as urgent as Junk mail?
I know a guy, who's name I wont mention that said to me once "Giving head always seems like a good idea, until you go to do it, its like a fucking alien down there" Nice one JAMIE.
I hope none of you guys out there are pulling the smell card. We have more hygiene in our little toe then you have in your entire bodies. Ever had a whiff of a nob after a night on the razzle dazzle? Another one I like is the "I only do it if shes really special" what? as apposed to the Cain toad you picked up for the evening? Trust me if shes special enough to pull the one eyed stiff one on then shes special enough for a bit of the royal treatment.
Once I heard an American comedian say that if you wanted to get a black guy to go down on you your best best was to hide a chicken wing in there..
Well Aussie guys arnt that keen on chicken wings but I have to tell ya desperate times call for desperate measures and, I know a few guys that could sniff out a bag of weed from a mile away..... xx
We women approach receiving head differently. We pull you guys back up when we think you might have had enough. That is of course on the rare occasion that you venture down there....
A recent study conducted in the USA showed that 70% of female high school girls had performed oral sex (I'm home schooling my daughter). Surprising? not really. However the same study revealed that only 12% of high school girls had received oral sex. Surprising? no, however appalling and a statistic that sets the bar for the rest of our sexual life.
So why do men consider there sexual satisfaction up there with world peace and global warming while ours is as urgent as Junk mail?
I know a guy, who's name I wont mention that said to me once "Giving head always seems like a good idea, until you go to do it, its like a fucking alien down there" Nice one JAMIE.
I hope none of you guys out there are pulling the smell card. We have more hygiene in our little toe then you have in your entire bodies. Ever had a whiff of a nob after a night on the razzle dazzle? Another one I like is the "I only do it if shes really special" what? as apposed to the Cain toad you picked up for the evening? Trust me if shes special enough to pull the one eyed stiff one on then shes special enough for a bit of the royal treatment.
Once I heard an American comedian say that if you wanted to get a black guy to go down on you your best best was to hide a chicken wing in there..
Well Aussie guys arnt that keen on chicken wings but I have to tell ya desperate times call for desperate measures and, I know a few guys that could sniff out a bag of weed from a mile away..... xx
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Caution may contain graffic infomation
Women Poo.
Well obviously, but women poo while giving birth. When everyones looking- with there faces right there trying to get the best view, that's when allot of women poo. We spend our whole lives trying to cover the smell of our poo and even the sound only to be confronted by this fact by our midwives. When I was pregnant I spent nine months preparing my boyfriend for the dreaded poo. It wasn't even him I was worried about, it was the nurses, doctors and midwives seeing it at the same time as him. In the end I didn't poo. I was, ironically constipated.
Part of me on the other hand- wishes I did poo. At least then I could file birth poos in the completed fears cabinet in my brain along with public speaking and bush poos. Instead it lingers in the pending fears cabinet with bungey jumping and under water poos.
Now as I understand men claim to be just as scared of there girlfriends poo as we are. In fact I'm positive that any men reading this are cringing right now wondering "why must you share everything Constance?" Well Ill tell you why, despite all the Diarrhea, farts, constipation and occasional Haemorrhoid, men are still obsessed with our bums. And not just the way they look in jeans. If men put as much energy into there work as they do trying to get there girlfriends to have anal sex with them they could afford to buy us a new asshole after woods. And to be honest I think its kind of strange.... Exactly who's supposed to benefit from a finger in a bum hole? How come you cant get over a bit of menstrual blood on your sheets however you can see past all the fowl jobs our bums were designed to do if it means you get to poke your nob in one for a minute or two?
I have a darling friend who's pregnant now with her second baby. Like any strong and amazing woman spent many painful hours in her first labour giving birth to a sweet sweet girl on an obviously life changing day. Only to be faced with a charming suggestion from her husband to start having anal sex instead now as it is to be 'tighter.'
When she told me this I was disgusted and racking my brain for advice all I could come up with was, "thank god your about to give birth again, this time rather then being shy or nervous about your birth poo, be grateful cos now you have something to aim for"
Well obviously, but women poo while giving birth. When everyones looking- with there faces right there trying to get the best view, that's when allot of women poo. We spend our whole lives trying to cover the smell of our poo and even the sound only to be confronted by this fact by our midwives. When I was pregnant I spent nine months preparing my boyfriend for the dreaded poo. It wasn't even him I was worried about, it was the nurses, doctors and midwives seeing it at the same time as him. In the end I didn't poo. I was, ironically constipated.
Part of me on the other hand- wishes I did poo. At least then I could file birth poos in the completed fears cabinet in my brain along with public speaking and bush poos. Instead it lingers in the pending fears cabinet with bungey jumping and under water poos.
Now as I understand men claim to be just as scared of there girlfriends poo as we are. In fact I'm positive that any men reading this are cringing right now wondering "why must you share everything Constance?" Well Ill tell you why, despite all the Diarrhea, farts, constipation and occasional Haemorrhoid, men are still obsessed with our bums. And not just the way they look in jeans. If men put as much energy into there work as they do trying to get there girlfriends to have anal sex with them they could afford to buy us a new asshole after woods. And to be honest I think its kind of strange.... Exactly who's supposed to benefit from a finger in a bum hole? How come you cant get over a bit of menstrual blood on your sheets however you can see past all the fowl jobs our bums were designed to do if it means you get to poke your nob in one for a minute or two?
I have a darling friend who's pregnant now with her second baby. Like any strong and amazing woman spent many painful hours in her first labour giving birth to a sweet sweet girl on an obviously life changing day. Only to be faced with a charming suggestion from her husband to start having anal sex instead now as it is to be 'tighter.'
When she told me this I was disgusted and racking my brain for advice all I could come up with was, "thank god your about to give birth again, this time rather then being shy or nervous about your birth poo, be grateful cos now you have something to aim for"
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Once I collapsed at a train station in tears, once my friend lied and said she was about to kill herself, another friend I know purposely drove her car into someone Else's. Punches have been thrown, endless bottles of spirits have been consumed, friends have been slept with, windows smashed, jobs quit and above all there has been begging. Why so dramatic? Cos someones been dumped.
Being dumped can be so utterly devastating that the world around you stops. You cant talk about anything but your ex, you cant eat (which works, as the weight loss comes in handy) You feel like you cant breath. You feel like theres been a bulls eye on your heart and you didn't even know it. Someones come along and put out the light on your little corner of the world. You become selfish, even if the reason you were dumped was that you were already selfish, you become really selfish. Your hurting and everyone should feel it.
What can you do about being dumped? They say theres nothing you can do, hold your head up, walk away with what dignity you can find.
I on the other hand say bullshit. There is loads you can do.... Another thing 'they' say revenge is a dish best served cold but in this case I firmly believe its a look that should be served Hot.
We all know begging doesn't work, but never underestimate the power of looking shit hot, rocking up to a bar you know they'll be at and ignoring them. Or if that doesn't work keep drinking, sooner or later your ex will see how smashed you've gotten and do the righty by taking you home. That might not be the best look but your pretty much guaranteed morning sex which could lead anywhere. Another 'take me back trick' is the old "I think I'm pregnant" But this ones for ameteurs and has more floors then I can be bothered writing.
Revenge is for the broken hearted who hasn't reached the stage of admitting there lost without there lover, its for when your ego is so completely bruised that you need pay back. Yes revenge is fun, rumors of small dicks and herpes are fun, hacking into face book accounts to make status updates say "Joe Blogs has just popped home for his midday wank" Is fun however it very rarely gets you what you want which is usually your lover back. I recently read a Chinese proverb that went "when planning your revenge, start by digging two graves, one for your enemy and one for yourself"... We don't want that.
So if all else fails, you've tried the stalking, the threats, the guilt's and given the begging one last try its probably time to do the mature thing...
And that's not, hang out with friends, get a new haircut, listen to music, Duffy or Damien Rice or Dido (why does all the draining music start with D) The answers simple, The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. xxxxxxxxxx
Being dumped can be so utterly devastating that the world around you stops. You cant talk about anything but your ex, you cant eat (which works, as the weight loss comes in handy) You feel like you cant breath. You feel like theres been a bulls eye on your heart and you didn't even know it. Someones come along and put out the light on your little corner of the world. You become selfish, even if the reason you were dumped was that you were already selfish, you become really selfish. Your hurting and everyone should feel it.
What can you do about being dumped? They say theres nothing you can do, hold your head up, walk away with what dignity you can find.
I on the other hand say bullshit. There is loads you can do.... Another thing 'they' say revenge is a dish best served cold but in this case I firmly believe its a look that should be served Hot.
We all know begging doesn't work, but never underestimate the power of looking shit hot, rocking up to a bar you know they'll be at and ignoring them. Or if that doesn't work keep drinking, sooner or later your ex will see how smashed you've gotten and do the righty by taking you home. That might not be the best look but your pretty much guaranteed morning sex which could lead anywhere. Another 'take me back trick' is the old "I think I'm pregnant" But this ones for ameteurs and has more floors then I can be bothered writing.
Revenge is for the broken hearted who hasn't reached the stage of admitting there lost without there lover, its for when your ego is so completely bruised that you need pay back. Yes revenge is fun, rumors of small dicks and herpes are fun, hacking into face book accounts to make status updates say "Joe Blogs has just popped home for his midday wank" Is fun however it very rarely gets you what you want which is usually your lover back. I recently read a Chinese proverb that went "when planning your revenge, start by digging two graves, one for your enemy and one for yourself"... We don't want that.
So if all else fails, you've tried the stalking, the threats, the guilt's and given the begging one last try its probably time to do the mature thing...
And that's not, hang out with friends, get a new haircut, listen to music, Duffy or Damien Rice or Dido (why does all the draining music start with D) The answers simple, The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. xxxxxxxxxx
Sunday, October 18, 2009
measurements
You can measure how appreciated you are at work by your bank balance every week, you can measure how drunk you were by the number of empty wine bottles you wake up next to, you can generally measure how many guys a girl has slept with by timesing the number she gave you by about 14. And you can measure the value of your relationships by how brave they leave you feeling.
Do you feel like you can achieve anything, and would you risk trying? Do you dream about mansions and million of dollars or beach shacks and millions of babies? Either way do you feel like with your partners support you? could get there? or do you think it would be easier for you both if you just did night fill at Coles for a couple more years?
I have a sweet humble little friend who recently met an international Lawyer (who calls them selves that?) anyway he was apparently worth a mint, working overseas, working in Perth and working his way up her skirt whenever he felt the need. When we asked her about him she replied "he's just so successful, it made me feel stupid"
This measures very low on the relationship charts. He is successful, he successfully took away all my little sweethearts bravery. Would they work as a couple? No way. He is not a catch.
Another close friend just wound up in bed with her Wine connoisseur co-worker, he is 40yrs old, divorced with two kids and shares a house with her ex boyfriend... While lying in bed together, my friend was amazed, he didn't grab her hand and place it on his nob????, he had forgotten to do the standard pushing her head down (as subtle as saying "hows about a blowy?") and she was able to be spooned without waking up so a good old nob nudging in her back. He stroked her arms, and left her feeling brave enough to walk around his room completely naked (sure once he fell asleep she went though his things, but that's a whole nother blog)
Would they work as a couple? Oh yes, And the catch of the day goes tooooooo....... The humble wine Connoisseur....
So if your feeling unmotivated, uninspired, you've lost yourself or you passion for youself, then maybe you need to take a few measurements of your relationships... Wrap yourself around the ones that make you feel like you could run with the wolves and get rid of the ones that inform you when your local subway has a "staff wanted sign"
Cos If Cinthia Nixon's girlfriend made her way to Hollywood with that head and Guy Sebastion's still making music with that head, then imagine what you could do with that head xxxxxxxxxxx
Do you feel like you can achieve anything, and would you risk trying? Do you dream about mansions and million of dollars or beach shacks and millions of babies? Either way do you feel like with your partners support you? could get there? or do you think it would be easier for you both if you just did night fill at Coles for a couple more years?
I have a sweet humble little friend who recently met an international Lawyer (who calls them selves that?) anyway he was apparently worth a mint, working overseas, working in Perth and working his way up her skirt whenever he felt the need. When we asked her about him she replied "he's just so successful, it made me feel stupid"
This measures very low on the relationship charts. He is successful, he successfully took away all my little sweethearts bravery. Would they work as a couple? No way. He is not a catch.
Another close friend just wound up in bed with her Wine connoisseur co-worker, he is 40yrs old, divorced with two kids and shares a house with her ex boyfriend... While lying in bed together, my friend was amazed, he didn't grab her hand and place it on his nob????, he had forgotten to do the standard pushing her head down (as subtle as saying "hows about a blowy?") and she was able to be spooned without waking up so a good old nob nudging in her back. He stroked her arms, and left her feeling brave enough to walk around his room completely naked (sure once he fell asleep she went though his things, but that's a whole nother blog)
Would they work as a couple? Oh yes, And the catch of the day goes tooooooo....... The humble wine Connoisseur....
So if your feeling unmotivated, uninspired, you've lost yourself or you passion for youself, then maybe you need to take a few measurements of your relationships... Wrap yourself around the ones that make you feel like you could run with the wolves and get rid of the ones that inform you when your local subway has a "staff wanted sign"
Cos If Cinthia Nixon's girlfriend made her way to Hollywood with that head and Guy Sebastion's still making music with that head, then imagine what you could do with that head xxxxxxxxxxx
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Desire Me.........
Some women like to be fucked hardcore from behind, some like a bit of dirty talking, some like a gentle looooove making session, others like it outdoors, some women are dying to get there kit off and others are dying to get the lights off, some women are scared of fanny farts and celulity bums while others are scared of premature men and floppy nobs.
Two things all women have in common is 1 they hate the jackhammer, you know the one.... Its the one where you could be forgiven for assuming you were fucking a rabbit or a teenage dog.
The second is that we all desire to be desired. It gets us sweating like a slut at confession.
This is where our two sexual similarities are related... If a blokes jackhammering away, eyes closed, looking like hes about to self destruct how can we possibly feel desired? We might as well be a hooker, your hand or a fucking apple pie youv decided to get your rocks off in. How is any woman supposed to feel wanted, like the sexiest woman you've laid eyes on, like the one thing you really NEED right now if your banging away like a screen door in a tornado, trying desperately to achieve YOUR orgasm....
Physically speaking the old Jackhammer does nothing, in fact its kind of embarrassing how unstimulated it leaves us.
But dear men, please don't think you can trick us. I know how men think, when asked if your into a girl a common and honest but completely dick headish reply is "shes good enough for a shag, but I wouldn't go out with her" We will know if you trying to make us feel desired to get us into bed as murmuring "your so sexy, your so sexy" while flipping a girl over and pulling down her jeans will not do.
It has to be real, its in the way you've been looking at her all night, the confident arrogance might get her into the bedroom but the vulnerability in her presence will bring her to life in bed.
So in layman's terms, a woman is 100% a better shag if shes enjoying herself, she will only enjoy herself if she is truly desired by the guy shes sleeping with...
And with a bit of luck and allot of Passion this should minimise the jackhammers and encourages the laughing, kissing, curled up toes, lights left on, necks being kissed, backs being kissed and goosebumps in your bedroom.........
Two things all women have in common is 1 they hate the jackhammer, you know the one.... Its the one where you could be forgiven for assuming you were fucking a rabbit or a teenage dog.
The second is that we all desire to be desired. It gets us sweating like a slut at confession.
This is where our two sexual similarities are related... If a blokes jackhammering away, eyes closed, looking like hes about to self destruct how can we possibly feel desired? We might as well be a hooker, your hand or a fucking apple pie youv decided to get your rocks off in. How is any woman supposed to feel wanted, like the sexiest woman you've laid eyes on, like the one thing you really NEED right now if your banging away like a screen door in a tornado, trying desperately to achieve YOUR orgasm....
Physically speaking the old Jackhammer does nothing, in fact its kind of embarrassing how unstimulated it leaves us.
But dear men, please don't think you can trick us. I know how men think, when asked if your into a girl a common and honest but completely dick headish reply is "shes good enough for a shag, but I wouldn't go out with her" We will know if you trying to make us feel desired to get us into bed as murmuring "your so sexy, your so sexy" while flipping a girl over and pulling down her jeans will not do.
It has to be real, its in the way you've been looking at her all night, the confident arrogance might get her into the bedroom but the vulnerability in her presence will bring her to life in bed.
So in layman's terms, a woman is 100% a better shag if shes enjoying herself, she will only enjoy herself if she is truly desired by the guy shes sleeping with...
And with a bit of luck and allot of Passion this should minimise the jackhammers and encourages the laughing, kissing, curled up toes, lights left on, necks being kissed, backs being kissed and goosebumps in your bedroom.........
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Billie-Violet
When I look down at her little head I wonder to myself,
How do I explain to someone who cant talk yet exactly how special she is? or how perfect her bubbly bum and round belly are? or how 365 sleepless nights a year is just fine.
How do I tell her that creating her was the one truly amazing thing Iv ever done and I wasn't even trying, or that I didn't know what the word stress meant until I heard her tiny cough.
How do I get her to see that I would murder or take the blame for her murder if she asked me too. Or that who ever she becomes will be adored as long as she becomes it near me.
When will she realise that shes the owner of a pair of thighs I kiss 40 times a day, or that shes the prettiest baby that any ones ever seen.
I wonder when she will realise that nobody loves anybody the way I love my little Billie
How do I explain to someone who cant talk yet exactly how special she is? or how perfect her bubbly bum and round belly are? or how 365 sleepless nights a year is just fine.
How do I tell her that creating her was the one truly amazing thing Iv ever done and I wasn't even trying, or that I didn't know what the word stress meant until I heard her tiny cough.
How do I get her to see that I would murder or take the blame for her murder if she asked me too. Or that who ever she becomes will be adored as long as she becomes it near me.
When will she realise that shes the owner of a pair of thighs I kiss 40 times a day, or that shes the prettiest baby that any ones ever seen.
I wonder when she will realise that nobody loves anybody the way I love my little Billie
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Iv lived in a few different places, Swanbourne with the snobs, East St Kilda with the jews, Fitzroy with the grungey Artist and now Fremantle surprisingly with the Rock stars..
Which is slightly unusual in a city with a population of approximately 26 000 people, approx 40% of the rented homes here are government housing, and approx 40% of the people are foreigners. So if you take out the wogs and doll bludgers your pretty much left with rock stars.
What qualifies you to be a rock star?
Well only two qualities are a must. You must live in fremantle and you must act like a rock star. Playing and instrument, developing your vocal skills, or even having a slight interest in any type of music is over rated. However tight black jeans, tatts, flanny shirts, black hair dye, chain smoking and local gigs are up there with theses highly exclusive groups.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming to be any better, I too have been known to have pointless tattoos, (rosary beads on my nonreligious wrist) I also donned red wine stained lips for a good two years and I remember the days of sitting at the swan basement watching intently as a band that should be placed under arrest for the attempted murder of my ear drums serenaded me.
But falling pregnant put a stop to the endless bender and opened my eyes to what an asshole I was becoming, it would appear I was wearing rose coloured Ray-bans.
So this is one gig Fremantle has to offer that Ill have to sit out on, as maintaining this type of superficial lifestyle while caught up in baby love is almost as impossible as having a polite conversation with the dude who works upstairs at Mills.
Which is slightly unusual in a city with a population of approximately 26 000 people, approx 40% of the rented homes here are government housing, and approx 40% of the people are foreigners. So if you take out the wogs and doll bludgers your pretty much left with rock stars.
What qualifies you to be a rock star?
Well only two qualities are a must. You must live in fremantle and you must act like a rock star. Playing and instrument, developing your vocal skills, or even having a slight interest in any type of music is over rated. However tight black jeans, tatts, flanny shirts, black hair dye, chain smoking and local gigs are up there with theses highly exclusive groups.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming to be any better, I too have been known to have pointless tattoos, (rosary beads on my nonreligious wrist) I also donned red wine stained lips for a good two years and I remember the days of sitting at the swan basement watching intently as a band that should be placed under arrest for the attempted murder of my ear drums serenaded me.
But falling pregnant put a stop to the endless bender and opened my eyes to what an asshole I was becoming, it would appear I was wearing rose coloured Ray-bans.
So this is one gig Fremantle has to offer that Ill have to sit out on, as maintaining this type of superficial lifestyle while caught up in baby love is almost as impossible as having a polite conversation with the dude who works upstairs at Mills.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
the little job of being a lover
My boyfriend has loads of jobs.
Its his job to tell me I look beautiful when Iv got food all over my chin, his job to listen to me cry over the asshole in the car park who called me a fat cow, his job to try and find that asshole, when I ask him the time, its his job to dack himself and reply "its cock oclock," its his job to come home from football early cos I saw a shadow in the backyard, his job to bring my attention to any camel toe issues I might be having (preferably not by say "babes your having a flap attack" but nobodys perfect) his job to pretend he didn't notice the 22kgs I put on when pregnant and his job NOT to point out that the baby only made up for 3 of them.
Its my job to be paranoid, Im a paranoid person- I believe every expression on a doctors face is the one they use to break the bad new "sorry, its Cancer or sorry lets discuss quality of life, or sorry looks like that Norweigen guy didnt leave quite without a trace." And so its also my job to worry at the discovery of a new lump, bump or rash on my body and its his job to check it out and reassure me.
This could explain the fear on his face when I came out of the toilet the other day with a very tense look on my face and the declaration of my very first Hemorrhoid.
Billy- "what makes you think that?"
Me- "I have all the symptoms and it hurts to poo, bloody hell I cant even enjoy a good poo any more"
Billy-"well can you see it? I hear they look like grapes"
Me- "no but Im pretty sure its of the internal variety. I'm really worried Bill, I dont want a doctor putting there finger up my bum"
Billy looked tence, infact he looked tence until he realised I didnt have one of those minors helmet torches to send him anal mining in my hands.
Turns out the hemorrhoid that Iv named Ernie came about from giving birth. Apparently I pushed so hard that Ernie had nowhere else to go. Easily treated and anyone who suffers from the Roids will know that he wont be missed.
After the ordeal I had a sneaky suspicion that if I was really worried about Ernie then Billy would have checked him out for me. It never came to that cos just as its Billys job to protect me from assholes in car parks its my job to protect him from arsholes like Ernie.
I have lots of jobs too,
Its my job to keep his little girls warm and safe while hes at work, my job to take the baby outside when he gets home from work for a kiss in his work van, my job to share a doona with him even after hes been eating Onion Bargies (bargie bum) and its my job to wash up at night in nothing but my nickers.
But most importantly it my job to keep the Ernies away so I can perch my bum on his lap while he does his job on the computer at night.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Its his job to tell me I look beautiful when Iv got food all over my chin, his job to listen to me cry over the asshole in the car park who called me a fat cow, his job to try and find that asshole, when I ask him the time, its his job to dack himself and reply "its cock oclock," its his job to come home from football early cos I saw a shadow in the backyard, his job to bring my attention to any camel toe issues I might be having (preferably not by say "babes your having a flap attack" but nobodys perfect) his job to pretend he didn't notice the 22kgs I put on when pregnant and his job NOT to point out that the baby only made up for 3 of them.
Its my job to be paranoid, Im a paranoid person- I believe every expression on a doctors face is the one they use to break the bad new "sorry, its Cancer or sorry lets discuss quality of life, or sorry looks like that Norweigen guy didnt leave quite without a trace." And so its also my job to worry at the discovery of a new lump, bump or rash on my body and its his job to check it out and reassure me.
This could explain the fear on his face when I came out of the toilet the other day with a very tense look on my face and the declaration of my very first Hemorrhoid.
Billy- "what makes you think that?"
Me- "I have all the symptoms and it hurts to poo, bloody hell I cant even enjoy a good poo any more"
Billy-"well can you see it? I hear they look like grapes"
Me- "no but Im pretty sure its of the internal variety. I'm really worried Bill, I dont want a doctor putting there finger up my bum"
Billy looked tence, infact he looked tence until he realised I didnt have one of those minors helmet torches to send him anal mining in my hands.
Turns out the hemorrhoid that Iv named Ernie came about from giving birth. Apparently I pushed so hard that Ernie had nowhere else to go. Easily treated and anyone who suffers from the Roids will know that he wont be missed.
After the ordeal I had a sneaky suspicion that if I was really worried about Ernie then Billy would have checked him out for me. It never came to that cos just as its Billys job to protect me from assholes in car parks its my job to protect him from arsholes like Ernie.
I have lots of jobs too,
Its my job to keep his little girls warm and safe while hes at work, my job to take the baby outside when he gets home from work for a kiss in his work van, my job to share a doona with him even after hes been eating Onion Bargies (bargie bum) and its my job to wash up at night in nothing but my nickers.
But most importantly it my job to keep the Ernies away so I can perch my bum on his lap while he does his job on the computer at night.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Monday, September 7, 2009
Tricky Tricky Tricky
All of us have been tricked........
Trick or treated by some little gremlins from down the road, tricked out of a round of beer by that one Jewish friend who always gets out of it, or tricked by a magician who after woods with a poof and a cloud of smoke vanishes.
But more commonly and definitely more annoyingly us girls are getting tricked into bed.
How many nights have you gone out with either a friend or a guy your not attracted to at all only to wake up in the morning next to a guy who's head and neck are so close together your concerned you may have just shagged an Ovaltiney???
Or worse still a guy your so attracted to that you know the only way you wont blow it is by holding off for a while only to wake up and realise you Blew it, literally.
How the hell do they do it?
Well I once knew a guy who told me that the trick is to get the girl back to your house, offer them coffee, a beer or in my friends case to look at there pet fucking rabbit- anything will do. This guy reckons that once you step foot into there place your nickers are 90% around your ankles, waxed or not waxed (so many girls make the mistake of skipping the wax appointment thinking that knowing they have a bush down there will act as a Chastity belt, not the case you'll end up feeling like a hairy tart instead of just a tart)
Another trick is the sympathy card... "I haven't had sex since my last girlfriend cheated on me, Iv been scared of rejection" This is self explanatory and its amazing how often it works.
All these tricks have one thing in common, they come with a promise of a follow up date, a call, a text or at the very least a bloody Friend Request (that entails remembering your name) and they hardly ever follow through.
Why the promise? Because man are amazing creatures who's one weakness is awkwardness. There need to avoid awkward moments is almost as strong as there need to try a variety of vagina in the first place. So "Ill call you" Is such the better option then "sucked in"
Only the other day I was almost tricked (not into bed my boyfriend spends more time tricking me out of bed then into it these days) but by a friend Mr P when I told MrP about this blog I was writing and how I was going out for lunch with my girlfriends to discuss the times they had been tricked. Well MrP told me that he too would be interested in this chat, not that he had tricked girls into bed but MrP believes he had been tricked into bed before too..... When I explained this to my boyfriend he said to me "Con don't you see? You've just been tricked now MrP gets to come along to lunch with a table full of single girls"
So there it is, we can all get tricked but watch out because men like all good magicians after woods with a poof and a cloud of smoke will vanish.
Trick or treated by some little gremlins from down the road, tricked out of a round of beer by that one Jewish friend who always gets out of it, or tricked by a magician who after woods with a poof and a cloud of smoke vanishes.
But more commonly and definitely more annoyingly us girls are getting tricked into bed.
How many nights have you gone out with either a friend or a guy your not attracted to at all only to wake up in the morning next to a guy who's head and neck are so close together your concerned you may have just shagged an Ovaltiney???
Or worse still a guy your so attracted to that you know the only way you wont blow it is by holding off for a while only to wake up and realise you Blew it, literally.
How the hell do they do it?
Well I once knew a guy who told me that the trick is to get the girl back to your house, offer them coffee, a beer or in my friends case to look at there pet fucking rabbit- anything will do. This guy reckons that once you step foot into there place your nickers are 90% around your ankles, waxed or not waxed (so many girls make the mistake of skipping the wax appointment thinking that knowing they have a bush down there will act as a Chastity belt, not the case you'll end up feeling like a hairy tart instead of just a tart)
Another trick is the sympathy card... "I haven't had sex since my last girlfriend cheated on me, Iv been scared of rejection" This is self explanatory and its amazing how often it works.
All these tricks have one thing in common, they come with a promise of a follow up date, a call, a text or at the very least a bloody Friend Request (that entails remembering your name) and they hardly ever follow through.
Why the promise? Because man are amazing creatures who's one weakness is awkwardness. There need to avoid awkward moments is almost as strong as there need to try a variety of vagina in the first place. So "Ill call you" Is such the better option then "sucked in"
Only the other day I was almost tricked (not into bed my boyfriend spends more time tricking me out of bed then into it these days) but by a friend Mr P when I told MrP about this blog I was writing and how I was going out for lunch with my girlfriends to discuss the times they had been tricked. Well MrP told me that he too would be interested in this chat, not that he had tricked girls into bed but MrP believes he had been tricked into bed before too..... When I explained this to my boyfriend he said to me "Con don't you see? You've just been tricked now MrP gets to come along to lunch with a table full of single girls"
So there it is, we can all get tricked but watch out because men like all good magicians after woods with a poof and a cloud of smoke will vanish.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Last Tuesday, I woke up in the middle of the night and stipped off cos I was hot. Then at 6.45am my baby woke up wanting to be fed, I wiggled my arse out of bed (with a few really attractive grunts), picked her up, noticed she was wet so I changed her nappy and took off her jumpsuit, took her to the couch and started to breastfeed her. While doing this I heard the sound of a tiny little explosion coming from her new nappy. Not about to interupt her feed I left it there for a few more monents before getting up (still naked) to change her nappy.
Thats when I noticed it........ She had done one whopper of a turd, it had leaked out of her nappy and inbedded itself in my pubic hair- While other ladies my age dont even have pubes mine were coverd in yellow baby poo.
Did I care? nup. I picked her up, changed her nappy and popped her on her play mat.
Meanwhile my boyfriend Billy was getting ready for work. I offered to make him some coffee? He just stood there, stared at what used to resemble a fanny, shook his head and walked out the door.
Thats when I started to think to myself.... What happened to Constance? The outspoken Constance, the loud, lovable and sassy Constance? (everyone has a vision of themselves weather correct or not) the consantly drunk and opinionated Constance? (now your all thinking, who cares what happened to Constance)
Well on this perticular Tuesday I did.
I mean when did I stop wearing a bra? its not like my boobs became less saggy once I had the baby, infact now there making this amazing slap noise when they hit against my chest/tummy when I walk. I dont even want to get into the dreadlocks Im growing or the armpits I havnt had a chance to shave in two months (thank god for winter)
Then something great happened, my girlfriend called me up crying.. Shed had a huge fight with her fella and was devistated. (I know Im selfish and mean to think this was great)
After talking to her I hung up and thought, "thats not me anymore" dont get me wrong, Billy and I have bigger and meaner fights then the best of them but I just dont care so much anymore.
Im preocupied with the bigger picture at the moment, this high might not last long but for now it makes everything else seem miniscule as long as she has rosie cheeks and a dry bum Im ok.
And yes I still have my days where Im tempted to put her on Ebay or atleast leave her at grannys permanently (whos waiting happily with adoption papers ready to be signed).
But everytime I look at her round little head I know that I love her a little bit more then yesterday and a little bit less then tommorrow. Even if that does mean poo in the pubes (Ralph magazine would sugest in my fault for sporting the sinnful pubic hair in the first place)
When this little baby cries I will come running, and you can all hear the echoes of my boobs against my tummy. xx
Thats when I noticed it........ She had done one whopper of a turd, it had leaked out of her nappy and inbedded itself in my pubic hair- While other ladies my age dont even have pubes mine were coverd in yellow baby poo.
Did I care? nup. I picked her up, changed her nappy and popped her on her play mat.
Meanwhile my boyfriend Billy was getting ready for work. I offered to make him some coffee? He just stood there, stared at what used to resemble a fanny, shook his head and walked out the door.
Thats when I started to think to myself.... What happened to Constance? The outspoken Constance, the loud, lovable and sassy Constance? (everyone has a vision of themselves weather correct or not) the consantly drunk and opinionated Constance? (now your all thinking, who cares what happened to Constance)
Well on this perticular Tuesday I did.
I mean when did I stop wearing a bra? its not like my boobs became less saggy once I had the baby, infact now there making this amazing slap noise when they hit against my chest/tummy when I walk. I dont even want to get into the dreadlocks Im growing or the armpits I havnt had a chance to shave in two months (thank god for winter)
Then something great happened, my girlfriend called me up crying.. Shed had a huge fight with her fella and was devistated. (I know Im selfish and mean to think this was great)
After talking to her I hung up and thought, "thats not me anymore" dont get me wrong, Billy and I have bigger and meaner fights then the best of them but I just dont care so much anymore.
Im preocupied with the bigger picture at the moment, this high might not last long but for now it makes everything else seem miniscule as long as she has rosie cheeks and a dry bum Im ok.
And yes I still have my days where Im tempted to put her on Ebay or atleast leave her at grannys permanently (whos waiting happily with adoption papers ready to be signed).
But everytime I look at her round little head I know that I love her a little bit more then yesterday and a little bit less then tommorrow. Even if that does mean poo in the pubes (Ralph magazine would sugest in my fault for sporting the sinnful pubic hair in the first place)
When this little baby cries I will come running, and you can all hear the echoes of my boobs against my tummy. xx
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Amigas
Two days a go I was walking down the street when a very young very pretty hobo asked me for some money.. I obidged. I reached into my pocket- pulled out $4- and handed it to her. she smiled and said "thanks friend" I smiled back and said "thats ok friend" as I walked off pondering how cute we had just been.
Now I have allot of friends 289 to be exact, well thats what facebook tells me.. Some Im so close to that I have to call and tell everytime I fart. Some I avoid as if they'r a walking jar of herpes warts and swine flue. And some I simply dont know at all.
Sex and the city brought back the idea of a tight group of loyal women, and you could do allot worse.
There is a certain type of woman (usually one thats threatened by other woman) that considers herself "one of the boys" dont buy this it is nothing more then a warning sign that she has a low selfesteem complimented with no sense of the sisterhood. ( You'll notice that you never come across men bragging that there "just one of the girls")...
Heres a story about my pretty little friend Miss M,
Miss M was inlove with her Mr when she found out he had been cheating. Naturally devistated, Miss M did as anyone would and hacked into his facebook account in order to not only publicly humiliate her Mr but also to confront this Mistress E.
The strange part of this little story is that once confronted Mistress E was horrible to my poor little Miss M - saying that Mr was an amazing person and deserved better!!!!!!
Sisterhood? I think not. Happy ending?? not really but....
I was looking on her facebook page a couple of days later and a member of her tight and loyal group of friends wrote her a quote...
"there is a special place in hell for women who dont stick up for other women"
Now I have allot of friends 289 to be exact, well thats what facebook tells me.. Some Im so close to that I have to call and tell everytime I fart. Some I avoid as if they'r a walking jar of herpes warts and swine flue. And some I simply dont know at all.
Sex and the city brought back the idea of a tight group of loyal women, and you could do allot worse.
There is a certain type of woman (usually one thats threatened by other woman) that considers herself "one of the boys" dont buy this it is nothing more then a warning sign that she has a low selfesteem complimented with no sense of the sisterhood. ( You'll notice that you never come across men bragging that there "just one of the girls")...
Heres a story about my pretty little friend Miss M,
Miss M was inlove with her Mr when she found out he had been cheating. Naturally devistated, Miss M did as anyone would and hacked into his facebook account in order to not only publicly humiliate her Mr but also to confront this Mistress E.
The strange part of this little story is that once confronted Mistress E was horrible to my poor little Miss M - saying that Mr was an amazing person and deserved better!!!!!!
Sisterhood? I think not. Happy ending?? not really but....
I was looking on her facebook page a couple of days later and a member of her tight and loyal group of friends wrote her a quote...
"there is a special place in hell for women who dont stick up for other women"
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