Mommy Has A Headache

Public Slimdowns

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 15:35:00 +0000

Reality Check: You don't have to be a portion control freak to lose weight

The problem with announcing to your pals or the blogosphere that you are planning to lose weight is that you get a lot of stuff about how women shouldn't strive to be a size zero and all that gumpf. But when you say you want to lose weight mainly for health not vanity no one wants to hear it. So I just kept it buttoned and lost the weight. The fact is that I was overweight and now since I have lost fifteen pounds I feel a lot better and I am certainly nowhere near fitting into Posh's jeans. But the upside of doing it is truly amazing!! I have a lot of energy. Let's face it we are not meant to be lugging around fat. Sure I feel better because I can wear smaller sizes but the benefit is mainly, my complexion is much better and I just feel so much healthier. For me it was a case of getting out of the cycle of emotional eating. Yes I would feel better after quaffing a large mochachino with whipped cream but then an hour later I'd feel bad again, so what was the point? In the end I did it via diet plan Diet to Go and hope they will pick me to be their spokesperson!!

So I applaud celebrities who are slimming down in public - I mean can you think of anything more humilitating? I think most of them are doing it for their health and none of them seem to have gone too far. These are two ladies I am applauding:

Good for you Nigella! I'm sure she feels so much better now she has gone from a size 18 to a 12. According to reports, she lost the weight on the Clean and Lean plan.

Dawn French also recently shed four stone simply by "eating less and walking more." Dawn French also once said: “There are two types of women: the ones who like chocolate and complete bitches.” And I certainly hear you on this Dawn. But I have learnt that you don't have to have a huge bar of chocolate every day ... just on special occasions!

And if you can't afford pricey diet foods why not just join in with the twitter diet. Yes by following @laughitoff on twitter you join a supportive gang of dieting twitterers who will help you on your merry way!

Today I'm over on the Cocktails's Blog writing about The Perils of Petting - can your pets teach your kids vital life lessons like the facts of life? Do pop over and add your ten cents)

Weekend Rewind - The Sizzling Hot Edition

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 14:00:00 +0000

Usually the lovely Multiple Mum hosts the Weekend Rewind - but this week I'm kicking back, pouring you all peppermint martinis and inviting you to rewind back in time with me. How do you do that you may well ask? Well, first I offer you a theme.

Yes, this week's theme is cooking. Now, admit it. We all do it or at least try to. We've read books about it, we've watched TV programs about it and many of us are obsessed with it. It should come naturally, as it was to our cavemen ancestors who did it effortlessly, club in hand and buffalo in the other, but alas, some of us have trouble reaching the peaks of perfection the Martha Stewarts and Nigellas seem to achieve so easily. Alas, if you are not Bear Grylls and don't enjoy biting the head off live fish then you will at some point have tried to cook. Some of you may be very good at it. Some of you may be the types who burn water. But whatever your skill level, let's rewind to a fabulous cooking post that you want to share with the rest of us.

So look through your blog archives and link up a cooking post for some new comment love. The rules are the same as always - link up, comment to your heart's content, and use the power of social networking to spread the love to others. Simple? You bet. You also need to become my friend if we are not already acquainted. There is an official Weekend Rewind button up there at the top of this post that you can pop on your post/blog should you wish to.

Oh and here's one to get you giggling... me impersonating celeb cook Paula Deen: Take That Y'all

Now show me yours:

Revolting Resolutions!

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 18:29:00 +0000

As this alcoholic squirrel will testify - The desire to change may be strong but the flesh is sometimes weak

New Year’s Resolutions. You’ve gotta love ‘em haven’t you? They’re basically just another opportunity for us to set ourselves up to fail, one more reason for us to hate ourselves.

I have in the past made New Year’s resolutions that I’ve actually kept, like in 2008 when I resolved to read 100 books in the year. I made it to 104 in the end, although that did include quite a few very slim volumes, and a few Nancy Drew books. It definitely counts though, Nancy Drew gets herself involved in some pretty intense mysteries you know.

Most of the time though, the ‘get thin and fit’ type resolutions never happen – the lure of Sky+ and the biscuit tin for some unfathomable reason being stronger than the lure of getting sweaty and out of breath in a dank, poorly lit room, with a group of chubby strangers. Funny that.

So, this year, how about going all out? You know you’re going to fail anyway, so at least be ambitious about it. Here are my top three resolution suggestions:

Lose three stone

Already only nine stone? Sod it, everyone wants to be a size zero don’t they? Resolve to eat the following daily diet, and by the end of the year you too could be unattractively bony and suffering from an eating disorder:

• Breakfast – half a grapefruit and three blueberries.

• Lunch – Chew half a sandwich and then spit it in the bin.

• Dinner – Glance in the direction of a tuna steak. Not for long though.

• Snack – Half a dozen post-it notes

Become super intelligent and interesting

We all know it, but just don’t want to admit it – Legally Blond = Bad, Boring subtitled film about the plight of shrimp in Argentina = Good. Make this the year you become all worldly and knowledgeable, with my foolproof plan:

Carry a copy of the Financial Times or the Economist under your arm at all times. Make sure it is folded open at an interesting article, to give the impression you were in the middle of reading it when you were interrupted by a Very Important Call.

Snort derisively at the mention of Strictly Come Dancing, X-Factor or Eastenders.

Shake your head in a cynical, if-only-you-knew kind of way every time someone talks to you about politics, the economy or the environment. This will create an impressive air of mystery and superiority. Try to imply by the way you raise your eyebrows that you may be a spy/national newspaper editor/secret Government consultant.

Stick to this and by the end of the year you should be able to answer at least 20% of the questions on University Challenge. Result.

Become an Olympic gold medallist

How many of you have joined a gym in January, only to give up after your third or fourth visit? It could be because you’re setting your sights too low, and are lacking motivation. Perhaps you need to consider aiming higher, and becoming an Olympic gold medallist?

There’s never been a better time to launch a career in sport in the UK – with the Olympics all set to bankrupt us next summer, at least you’ll not have to fork out too much in the way of travel expenses.

Picking a sport is the first step. I’d avoid athletics if I were you, as some of those runners are really fast, and you’d probably get left behind. I’ve had a look at the list of events for 2012 and think something like archery or show jumping would be your best bet. Or perhaps BMX?

Yes, there are cynics who’ll say you’ve probably left it a bit late to start your training, but what do they know? You just have to believe in yourself. You can do it!

This guest post was brought to you by the lovely Jo at Slummy Single Mummy. You can also follow her on twitter here.

As for me - I did resolve to be less vain last year but it has to be said it was a monumental failure. I have a wonderful new hair stylist called Danny who does my highlights who is the closest I will ever come to finding religion - Danny you are my hero! I am also still obsessed with having my nails done in every kind of new fangled design under the sun and have just had my nails decorated with tiny snowmen and snowflakes:

Is it wrong to thrive on long martini lunches, shopping with pals, reading chick lit, buying high heeled shoes and gossiping about who's had a facelift? No, it isn't. I can't do it any more. Can't keep up the pretence of being an intellectual. Like Jo, I can't pretend to be interested in really boring Ingmar Bergman movies or reading Booker Prize tomes where nothing happens apart from someone washes their hands and watches a snowflake settle on the nose of a cat as a metaphor for the war in Iraq.

Enough of this madness! I am GOING VAIN in 2012. That's not the same as Sarah Palin's claim to be GOING ROGUE. If I can give her some advice it would be to start GOING ROUGE instead. Put down your elk blasting gun this Christmas Sarah and dab a little festive pink on your cheeks - you'll feel so much better, trust me!

But in my attempt at GOING VAIN let's hope I don't tumble from kitsch into the territory of bad taste. My snowmen nails are only the start. I fear it is only a matter of time before I don one of those reindeer sweaters with flashing lights on them that seem to be something of a hit around here. Please pray for me that I don't take it too far.....

So dish it. What about you? Are you doing a list of resolutions this year or simply giving them a two fingered salute?

Would you spend £700 on a designer potty?

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 17:02:00 +0000

Today I'm dealing with strange products marketed at children that make you scratch your head and think, hmm, who thought that up?

1. Posh Potty

Psst, Posh Spice, here's the latest word in stylish pottys. Harper's probably getting to the stage soon when she'll be wanting to do number ones and twos in a fashion forward setting.

So if you want something sparkly for Harper then grab this exclusive potty that's studded with Swarovski crystals. And if you dear reader are sobbing that you simply haven't got that kind of cash to spend on a potty to bribe your daughter, then all I can say is, there are plenty of cheaper bribes out there that can work equally well. Believe me, we've all been there - potty training bribes are what it's all about. From chocolate buttons to letting kids play mind numbing games like Angry Birds every time they poop in the correct hole, when the shit hits the fan you do what you can.

Read more here

I'm not a tourist, I live here

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 15:25:00 +0000

It is a funny old life, being an expat. I suppose when you tell people you are an expat it gives the impression that you have chosen a life of fun, excitement and adventure by choosing to wear the expat hat, when in some (namely my own) cases you were simply offered an opportunity to leave your country of birth and hopefully ended up somewhere better. I came to Baltimore, USA eleven years ago without much of a clue as to where I was moving to. The locals told me 'Baltimore grows on you' which sounded much like an unwanted wart on the sole of my foot! But I have to say I did grow to love Baltimore more with every passing year. It has a real community feel to it and pretentious people are thankfully few and far between. In fact, I was reading through the The Expat Explorer survey (The largest survey of its kind. In 2011 over 3000 expats answered questions relating to their finances, quality of life and even what it's like to raise children abroad) and must say it's a really fascinating read.

It has a neat little function where you can compare and contrast two countries to see which one is the better deal. I typed in the UK and the US and you can see the results here. It did feel great to find out that in most ways I was doing better in the USA. I also have still not gotten over the fact that people here say 'has anyone ever told you you look like Kate Winslet?' The answer is 'No, well no one outside the USA.' The Americans here hold the Brits in high esteem are always gushing about my 'cute British accent.' I don't want to burst their bubble by saying, 'Yeah I am pretty unique, there are only about 60 million of us back home!' What I'm saying is if you become an expat you become a somewhat unique person in your host country especially in a smaller place like Baltimore where I have only met maybe 30 other Brits.

But what about the rest of the expat world? If you are an expat check out the survey and see how your new country compares to your old and if it is doing better then give yourself a slap on the back.

And remember, if you are a bored expat sitting by the pool idly fiddling with your iPad that our fabulous book Cocktails at Naptime - A Woefully Inadequate Guide To Early Motherhood by Gillian Martin and Emma Kaufmann is now available for download worldwide. It can be downloaded to an Apple device such as an iPad or iPhone at the ibookstore here.

The book is a laugh out loud guide to the first year after birth and is the funniest book about childbirth since the New Testament. So what are you waiting for? Download it now! And if you want to know how two authors wrote a book in cyberspace go here.

The Geography of Style

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 16:25:00 +0000

The divine Bourbon and Pearls has got me thinking about the connection between geography and style. If like me, you are an expat, do you find that when you moved to your new country you took on the fashion mantle of your new home? I must say I did!

I do feel a bit like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz since getting to sun drenched Baltimore many a moon ago. I have stepped from black and white into technicolour although thankfully I have yet to encounter any flying monkies.

My UK look except less Maria Rinaldi more M&S (posed by model obviously)!!

When I lived in London I dressed in dreary black, grey, off-white, eggshell, navy, sludge, taupe, with a touch of dark red. I also covered my body up a lot with layers of wool and thermal undergarments. That is mainly because it is freezing in England for much of the time.

Emma's US signature look: Hot Pink and bare to dare skirts

Eleven years on my wardrobe screams with clashing shades of hot pink, black, white, light blue, light green, and is peppered with short skirts, shorts, barely there t-shirts and flimsy linen blouses. That is because it is mostly very hot here.

I don't really emulate Baltimore style because I don't think much of it. It is preppy and boring and when taken to extremes can look just plain hideous:

I think New Yorkers are more stylish but there is not much individuality there alas. On a trip to Manhattan in February every single woman was wearing black leggings, knee length boots and a black long anorak coat. It looked hot though and I snapped up a dozen pairs of black leggings and some flat boots!

The New York look that is somehow insanely hot

What about you? How has your signature style changed since you moved to hotter or colder climes? And do add pics if you have them!

Also do check out my fabulous new interview over at Blog Expat where I dish about ex-pat life warts and all:

Dieting For Dummies

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 13:49:00 +0000

Please don't groan .... I'm on a diet.

I've never actually been on a diet before and at 40 I think that qualifies me as the only female in the western world who falls in that category (Guiness Book of Records please note, I am available for publicity if you need me).

But recently the flab hit the fan or rather I couldn't zip up my pants anymore even when lying down, so I figured it was time to finally take the bull by the cream horns. But what diet to try, that was the million dollar question. Of course I've observed a lot of people being on diets but God, doesn't it all seem a bit complicated? My friend Jill who's on Weightwatchers has some app on her phone and every time she eats anything she types it in and it converts it into points. "But fruit is no points," she tells me "and cabbage is negative points." Or something. I have absolutely no idea what she was talking about. All I know about points is that Sir Brucie Forsyth used to yell "What do points make?" and the audience would yell back, "Prizes!!!!" on Play Your Cards Right and if you were lucky you'd win some trashy Plether three piece suite or if you were really lucky even a car. But with Weighwatchers you don't win anything except a headache and you have to be constantly vigilant of yourself and constantly convert yourself into points. I knew I couldn't be arsed with that.

Then there's Atkins which involves quaffing vast amounts of sausages, and the South Beach Diet which isn't as good as it sounds and in fact doesn't mean you swan about at a spa on a beach receiving massage from lovely pool boys while effortlessly shedding your inhibitions along with the pounds. But whichever way you slice the cake doing a diet on your own means a lot of palaver involving buying food, preparing food and weighing food. And basically having more food around than you need or can resist. Without any self control you are toast.

And since I don't have any self control I was limited in my dietary choices. So what diet am I on then, I'm sure you're dying to know! Well for a week now I've been on this diet where you pick up all your refrigerated meals from the gym. They give you three meals at 1600 calories a day and you just microwave them and that's it!!! There was also a 1200 calorie plan but come on I'm not a sado masochist! I mean yes I'm a saddo but not a masochist. The food is delicious and not even that expensive. It is an amazing thing. It is the sort of diet that is good for me because I know I can only eat 'what's in the box' and that everything else is out of bounds.

The downside is I have gone a bit manic and become a trifle obsessed with food. We recently acquired two guinea pigs and sometimes I do find myself staring at their lettuce leaf enticingly and thinking, "Should I grab that when no one's looking? It's only got a couple of bites taken out of it. It'll be fine." But then I give myself a good telling off and take my hand out of the cage before any damage is done.

Other than that it's working a dream. I'm not sure how long I'll be on it. I guess 'til I hit my target weight (a month or two I'm guessing).

What about you? Have you ever found a diet that worked? If so do spill the beans and pass some over (liberally doused in tomato sauce of course).

Frightfully Good Halloween Party Ideas

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 17:21:00 +0000

Halloween is almost here, and I've still got some tough decisions to make regarding my costume. I'm leaning towards being a cavewoman, partly so I can let my hairy legs grow lushly and partly because I look great in leopard skin. But in the meantime, here's some devilishly fun party ideas to share! Wonderfully wicked Halloween ideas! Kids and adults alike will have a frightfully good time this Halloween with these scary, spooky and scrumptious party ideas.

Amigurumi Addict

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 16:08:00 +0000

Hi Guys and Gals! I am on a bit of a blogging break. I am sure many of you have missed me (or not?) Well I find I am happy as a clam and the urge to blog has left me for the moment. The artistic muse has bitten me and I am doing a lot of crafts. I have gotten heavily into Amigurumi. No that's not a new designer drug. It's actually the Japanese name for crocheting animals. I think something happens to us ladies around the age of forty and we become inexplicably attracted to crochet needles, crafts shops and making cuddly animals. Or is that just me?

Crochet - it's madness. It's crochet madness

I have also started to do some pastel portraits and am even getting some commissions! People just give me a photo and I create art from it. Like these:

So there you have it. I am up to my eyeballs in creativity and hunkering down waiting for Hurricane Irene to strike. Wish me luck.

Emma

Having your Cupcake and Eating It?

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 15:18:00 +0000

So a revolution of sorts has occurred apparently, with curvy models recently featuring in Italian Vogue. Now some people think this is great and some see it as a symptom of the continuing objectification of women. I say these curvy ladies are serious hot and it is great to see women with a bit of meat on them in a fashion magazine.

Arguments abound that women are objectified and the argument is always 'men oppress women by sexually objectifying them.' But isn't the reality that no one is really oppressed just by having a man look at you in a lustful fashion? If you are talking about the fashion industry well yes that is an extremely distasteful industry on every level. Models are certainly dehumanised and just treated as clothes horses. In all the babble coming from the chattering classes about 'going green' I suppose no one has noticed that following fashion is not only pointless but perpetrates huge suffering amongst fashion workers in the third world. If you really want to do something radical for women's rights then boycott fashion!

As for objectification of women in real life much has been made of the rise of retro femininity and the fact that many women in public life seem to have embraced a purely decorative function, coupled with an obsessive interest in baking cupcakes and wearing frilly aprons. Tanya Gold wrote in an article recently that she was appalled at going to John Lewis and finding out that:

"Sales of crafting fabrics are up 31 per cent on last year. Jam pot covers – remember them? – are up 50 per cent. And cupcake cases are up a howling, punched-by-Kirstie-Allsopp 65 per cent. I wish I could paint that sentence pink so you could see how important it is. We are living in a time of retro femininity."

I'm not sure what's so appalling about that as I love making cupcakes and wearing frilly aprons and apparently it's not just me. Gold states that Samantha Cameron, Duchess of Cambridge and Michelle Obama are little more than Stepford Wives in that they are seemingly playing second fiddle for now to their spouses (but are they really?)

To which I say you can look pretty, bake cupcakes and wear frilly outfits without losing your feminist credentials and if you make the stuff yourself surely you're saving the women who work in the Indian sweat shops from a life of hell. Also women are always going to be objectified because men like to look at pretty women. Also women like to be looked at by men. There, I've said it.

No one is forcing women to look pretty. If you want to go out looking like a dog's dinner it's your right. But there has always been a rather bizarre feminist link made between men's economic dominance and looking at women. Some clap trap about because they earn more that gives them the right to look at women, somehow diminishing women via their gaze sort of like how Alice in Wonderland might shrink after drinking some patriarchal potion!

Well enough clap trap. Looking at women does not oppress them okay? (Although obviously sexual harassment is another story). But my real point is this, do you think feminism has gone off course with the advent of more women wanting to look pretty and have a nice home or can you have your cake and eat it too?

Are you saleable in the current market?

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 27 May 2011 13:46:00 +0000

In times of economic uncertainty when many of us are trying to sell houses that no one wants inevitably reflections turn inwards. Have you ever stopped to think what you: all your muscle, flab, experience, sexual prowess, lack of sexual prowess, stretch marks, personality, cankles or not etc would add up to on the open market?

In one of the supreme ironies of life when we are young and our bodies are near perfect we are a bit inhibited and our self confidence is low. I remember a time and this is pretty hard for me to remember since I now have a voice like a fog horn and could talk the hind legs of a donkey but I was inhibited in my teens. I had a crush on one of my friend's brother's friends who was and still is absolutely gorgeous and in three years of bumping into him at nightclubs I was tongue tied and managed maybe twenty words. I think he managed about ten too including telling my friend that "Emma is hot." Meanwhile I had not any saggy flesh on my whole body. I had breasts that were pert! Nipples that faced East not South! But there's no point crying about spilt cellulite. Admittedly I was probably not the sexual goddess I am today since 'sex' was limiting to fumbling about on the tops of coats at parties or the back of a car but still I am pretty sure I am worth more today than I was then.

Romina over at Martyrhood assessed her own assets or lack of them by comparing herself to a house ie. How would you present yourself in today's market? Would you make any home renovations or market yourself as a "fixer upper"?

Well in that instance I'd be:

Gorgeous old property, many original features, only a few previous owners, breasts could be lifted to make a lovely patio area. Garden well groomed - no ingrown hairs! This property has been lovingly maintained, moisturized and toned in the gym. Drawbacks are a little flab around the middle but this could easily be remedied with a course of Pilates. This house likes a laugh and is a very cheap date. Two drinks and it is legless. Could do with a lick of paint and a new roof but otherwise this is move in ready!

On the open market as a house I could easily fetch $500,000

But what if I compared myself to a high class prostitute?

Mature MILF available for entertaining evenings and sleepless nights. Tired of shelling out money at overpriced drinking clubs and paying through the nose for champagne just to talk to a 'model'? This lady will tell bawdy jokes after just two gin and tonics. Drawbacks include a propensity to laugh if you have a small penis but just keep your pants on until the final moment to avoid hysteria. May have problems staying up post ten pm but can be kept going my copious amounts of cholestrol rich food.

Worth as high class prostitute: I reckon I could charge $3,000 a night apart from the fact I wouldn't be able to stomach (pun intended) any guy with a gut.

What if I compared myself to another housewife? Hmm, this will require all my copywriting skills.

Housewife X is a sturdy little number who will leave your home in tip top shape. She doesn't promise to get into all those dirty corners or dust those hard to reach your shelves. But your house will look considerably cleaner after Housewife X has shoved all your belongings under the bed or into any available cupboard before settling down with The Daily Mirror, a nice cup of coffee and a handful of your Hob Nobs. Her culinary skills are fine if you provide all the ingredients but she can't usually be arsed to go to the supermarket. One of her famous culinary shortcuts is 'bunging something in the microwave.' This funloving Housewife X will leave your house scented with her perfume and your fridge bare.

Worth as housewife: $300 per week.

So what are YOU worth? You can write a post on it if you wish. But first I will tag:

Very Bored In Catalunya
Blog It And Scarper
Note From Lapland
Vegemitevix
Slummy Single Mummy maybe this will break your writer's block!
Organic Motherhood With Cool Whip

The Fools of Attraction

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Thu, 19 May 2011 18:11:00 +0000

Is it just me or was anyone else surprised at how homeley Schwarzenegger's mistress is? Now there will be those frothing at the mouth about how married men shouldn't cheat but I'm not one of those. In my mind politicians and movie and sports stars orbit in their own universe, above us mere mortals in their own rarified atmosphere. They orbit mainly around themselves, and have many tiny planets telling them day and night just how wonderful they are. So it is inevitable that their egos grow very large indeed and that they are soon thinking that it is every lap dancer for himself.

So I said to my husband, "I just don't get it. I mean Schwarzenegger's mistress, she's not even good looking. I mean Maria Shriver looks a bit odd, granted, but she's probably better looking than the mistress. I mean seriously, will men just do it with anyone?"

My husband chewed over the question. "Well, I'm sure Arnie's mistress was good looking at some point."

Getting to the meat of the question I asked, "You wouldn't want to do it with some old dog though would you?"

Taking a Swiss position (a neutral stance that would not lead to him being hung drawn and quartered) he said,"Well all women are attractive at some point. It's just a question of how many years they can sustain that attractivenes. For some women their bloom lasts but an hour!"

"I see," I said. "But I still don't get it. Why would men choose to sleep with plain women especially if they are famous and can pick and choose? When women sleep with reptilian looking men there's always a reason for it and it's to do with the man's status. Mick Jagger's been hideous for years but I understand that women want to get their hands on his millions. And what about Paul McCartney, he looks like a droopy bull dog these days but that doesn't stop him getting engaged to a hottie does it?"

"I'm just a jumping scrotum with lips but I gets the girls."

"Hope my pre-nup is watertight so I don't end up tarred and Heathered."

Melinda was attracted to Trump by his playful sense of humour and large combover

Am I taking a prejudicial position here? What does go on in men's heads? Is it really the case that if a woman plain or otherwise offers herself to a bloke he's in there like a rat up a drainpipe? It is just his biological imperative? I mean I don't mind if it is like that but is it really that basic? I'm talking about normal men here, not your politicians, Trumps or movie stars?

Library Lushes

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 17 May 2011 18:37:00 +0000

I have always had a soft spot for libraries and spent a lot of my childhood in them. Perversely during my university period I spent very little time in the university library, maybe because there were other places that were more interesting like a. the bar and b. the bar. But one thing I do remember about UK libraries was that a lot of tramps sat in them all day which would be fine except they smelt very strongly of pee - which is not okay.

Now that I live in America luckily things are different. Well not that different as the library I frequent is peopled with the usual colourful collection of care in the community mental cases and alchoholics but God Bless America - not one of them smells of pee.

Now you may well ask why I spend so much time in the library? Well it is part of my perverse nature - to need some kind of white noise to write my books and blog - to have people verbalising in the background without having any impulse to actually engage in conversation with them.

Like, what is the point of cafes where people sit about staring silently at their lap tops? Surely they'd have more fun at home because at least you can blog in the nude, fart at will and not pay $6 for a capuccino.

No, believe me, when you've gone library you can never go back. It is just so damn amusing.

The regulars are:

Hygiene Nut who wears surgeon's gloves while typing on the computer - I presume this is to ward off germs (and who can blame him?)

Man with flaking face Yes, worse than dandruff his face flakes all over the keyboard and he constantly picks at it.

Snoring fat man This obese guy has a bright red face and is always wearing headphones and snoring like a train in front of the keyboard. What's up with that? What's wrong with a bed?

The anorexic/bulimic She was really skinny for a long time, then she blew up like a balloon. She once came up to me and told me 'I don't like you.' Thanks for that. I've also seen her panhandling outside the library.

The usual suspects:

Many many men are looking at porn and subtly fiddling with their crotches but the funniest people are the Google virgins. They sit down at the computer and just scream over to the librarian:

"How do I get on Google? I wanna get on Google!"

Librarian: "What do you want to do on Google? It is a tool you know."

"I wanna find something!"

Librarian shows him how to get on Google and goes away.

Two minutes later the virgin screams again:

"I wanna go on Yahoo! How do I get on Yahoo?"

Librarian: "Do you have a Yahoo account?"

"No but I heard I can get some some free mail from Yahoo."

Librarian takes out a gun and shoots him in the head. Not really ....but I'm amazed they don't.

Strange incidents:

Yesterday a ten year old listening to music on headphones was bellowing very loudly along to the rap lyrics until someone told him to shut up: "Yo mutherfuckin ho, yo bitch I think I need some sno, so ho off you go, you lazy mo fo bitchin ho." (I may have got the lyrics wrong but you get my drift).

There are quite a few drunks at the library and sometimes they will start a punch up - why I have no idea.

There was a girl who screamed at the librarian that she was a 'Fucking Bitch Cunt' very loudly until she had to be escorted out. But what was wierd is that they let her back in the library the next day!

A man who sat next to me staring at me who slid me a note that he 'wanted to connect with me' and left me his number. I ran out of there so fast I left skid marks.

They're like a wonderful dysfunctional family to me. A family I don't ever have to deal with. What bliss.

What about you, what kind of white noise fuels your creativity? I find that inspiration strikes with a backdrop of tourettes syndrome and people talking very loudly into their cell phones.

Fancy voting for me to be one of the top 25 Expat Mom Blogs? Then vote for me here:

The Contents of my Fridge

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 16:41:00 +0000

My pal Slummy Single Mummy has tagged me to reveal the contents of my fridge. Now I'm not going to lie: this ain't gonna be pretty. And now I think of it these pictures seem to reveal quite a lot about my (perfectly legal) addictions to chocolate and alcohol. So what the heck, here goes nothing.

Let's start with the freezer compartment shall we?

Those of you not familiar with the Samoa Girl Scouts' Cookie will not know how delicious is it as well as the fact that the cookies are 150 calories per cookie and God knows how much more mixed with the icecream. The stuff in the Tupperware is leftover Easter chocolate and the thing that looks like a chicken is a decapitated chocolate bunny.

Since we recently almost had a tornado here and we've been warned that we may have to hide in the basement for several days and not be able to shop for groceries I have stocked the freezer with staples such as um, gin.

Now moving on to the fridge. Admitedly I do have to go for a shop but even so these items are fairly typical of my daily intake of er nutrients:

"Help I'm trapped in a filthy drawer! Will paint eggs for food."

Nutritional note: Fruits are still fruits even when trapped in a sugary jelly like substance.

When you have gin you must also have mixers and a few bottles of wine in case guests pop in...

...plus some beer.

More chewed chocolate.

I know what you're thinking. Where's the veg? Well this is all I have at the mo:

Yes there is some kind of watery stuff floating about in there.

In fact I actually found a sprouted pea in there this morning but threw it out. I did look for it in the bin to take a picture but couldn't find it so this image will have to do. The discovery of the sprout might give some indication of how often I clean out my vegetable drawer.

So now I want you all to show me the contents of your fridges. I don't think anyone can be worse than that but surprise me.

To get the ball rolling I want to see the fridge contents of :

Metropolitan Mum
Mum's Gone To
Glen's Life
A Modern Military Mum cos she's a neat freak and I'd love to see what an alphabetically organised fridge looks like
Very Bored in Catalunya - because I want to see some groovy Spanish packaging
Note From Lapland - because I want to see some groovy Finnish packaging

A Strudel in a D-Cup

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 20:04:00 +0000

Like being a Playboy model, a wrestler's days are alas numbered. And it was thus that in 2002 a somewhat out of shape former wrestler called Norbert Sendlhofer decided to get into the pimping game. Yes, in tough economic times one must do what one can, and Sendlhofer decided that the770 inhabitants of St Andra near Salzburg needed, not another pub, but a brothel. So without thinking too much - prostitution is legal in Austria so he thought opening the den of iniquity would be a piece of strudel - he put in a planning application to turn an old hunting lodge on the outskirts of the village into a brothel to be called Villa Erotica.

However, the journey to erect this pimp's pleasure palace ended up taking nine years.

First the mayor went ballistic, and then, backed by his constituents, threw as many spanners in Sendlhofer’s works as he could blocking his plans with any piddling regulation they could find. For years planning experts and officials trooped into Villa Erotica, asking questions. The Austrian newspaper Der Standard reported that in July 2005, St Andra government officials told Sendlhofer that his application had been turned down because the local public health officer had said there were “inadequate sanitary facilities” for “transactions which specifically deal with the excretion of bodily fluids”.

Additionally, it was found that Villa Erotica could “impair the moral, religious and psychological life of the village” said the rejection letter, reported Der Standard. Sendlhofer wasn't going to be put off and hastily put in new showers to meet hygiene requirements. Later, when the council said Villa Erotica’s drinking water wasn't up to snuff, he dug new wells.

In 2007 the local busy bodies were getting desperate. As a last resort, one right wing nut hit upon the brainwave that prostitution could be classed as “physical labour” and therefore subject to special health and safety regulations.

A medical expert wrote a report for the council, which said that “prostitution is heavy physical work which is carried out in all possible postures”.

After much research into the daily lives of hookers the experts reached the conclusion that the ceilings of Villa Erotica were too low for suitable work spaces and that there were too few cubic metres of air to give sex workers the “volume of air” needed to carry out their strenuous physical duties.

The ploy worked for a while but then a higher court in Salzburg last year quashed the verdict and Villa Erotica was given the green light. Next, it was in fact the brothel’s red light that caused the next headache: believe it or not you need special planning permission to install unusual external lighting.

When the brothel opened recently, Sendlhofer, his pet parrot Booger and Head Madam Heidi had the last laugh. The nine-year fuss resulted in massive press coverage and they were able to boast to the wrestler's opponents by telling TV cameras there was “no better location in the whole of Austria” for Villa Erotica.

God bless Sendlhofer's entrepreneurial spirit! I'm looking forward to seeing the movie too. Who should play the wrestler in the movie (tentatively titled Villa Erotica - A Long Time Coming) do you think? Might Arnie be persuaded to put on a leotard and play the ex-wrestler do you think?

[This story is not made up. Nevertheless, all pictures have been posed by models]

Five Things I Don't Want My Children To Know About Me

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 17:23:00 +0000

Well today I am joining in Notes From Home's carnival to reveal Five Things I Don't Want My Children To Know About Me. Only five? Well there's many more than that, for sure, but here goes:

There is such a thing as Free Chocolate - but such an offer is rife for abuse

1. I was a chocolate thief. Aged fourteen I worked a Saturday job in a pretentious hand made chocolate shop in Hampstead where chocolate ran out of pipes in the back room, very much like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I think the owner said I could have a chocolate 'now and again.' I'm not sure what he was thinking. Firstly I gave 'samples' of the chocs to any pal of mine who came in the shop. Then, alas, I got greedy and started pilfering chocolates at the end of the day. In fact one day I stuffed my anorak full of them and left a Hansel and Gretel trail of them to the Tube. I believe that incident had some part to play in me being fired from that job.

2. I could have been an adult star. Aged fifteen I worked at a delicatessen on Saturdays slicing sausages and selling expensive cheeses. The proprietor had a penchant for employing young nubile teenagers and, it goes without saying was a lecherous old git with a gut and combover. One evening after work he asked me if I'd like to earn some extra money. I said yeah okay, what do I have to do? He said he had some 'special film cameras' at home and asked if I wanted to be an actress in one of his films, 'a little nudity but nothing too outrageous.' I politely declined. I wasn't that hard up. All the other girls who worked there laughed about it, they'd all been asked but as far as I know had all declined his 'tempting offer.'

3. I have almost taken acid. No this is the beauty of this, I can actually tell me kids that, heaven's forbid I have never taken acid. I am to acid what Woody Allen is to cocaine. Remember that scene in Annie Hall where he snorts it and sneezes. Hysterical, what? Well that's a bit like me and acid. I have been offered acid on numerous occasions - at parties and clubs. And every time I've said, 'Oh thanks very much' and accidentally dropped it on the floor, and scrambled about in vain trying to find it. It is quite a relief I never actually took it as I'm the kind of person who starts tripping on a spoonfull of Nyquil (UK Night Nurse).

4. I served greenfly salad. When I was sixteen I worked on Saturdays in the kitchen of quite a fancy restaurant making the salads. As I was usually hungover I couldn't really be bothered to wash the salad and it often went out covered in greenfly. I think only once someone did complain. For reasons I won't go into the staff at this place were particularly slack and that's why I didn't get fired from that job.

5. I was a Terrible Temp. I once worked in a temping job in my twenties which was well paid but they hardly ever gave me anything to do. So one Friday morning I came in, signed my time sheet indicating I'd worked until 5pm, faxed it to the agency, then went home and went to bed. I was awoken by the ringing of the telephone at home - the supervisor at the office wanted to know where I was. So I got up, got dressed, went to the office and pretended I'd been in the bog for three hours. I think we both know how that particular story ended. Suffice to say I didn't get away with my scam. I wasn't fired by the Temp Agency though, which was odd to say the least.

So what about you. Spill the beans. And join in too why don't you?

My Weekus Horribilis

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 14:48:00 +0000

Where did my brain go? Last week I lost it. My husband was in Chicago and it can safely be said that the wheels, which were only very loosely attached to the cart in the first place, fell off completely.

We live in a part of Baltimore that is very much like a little village in The Darling Buds of May. Or maybe it's a bit like in the Cheers sitcom where 'you want to go where everyone knows your name!' In any case it's very friendly and quaint, all rambling roses, cottagey houses, bendy windy roads and purple clematis, which is a bit weird I suppose because drive a mile south and the only decorations in the yards are discarded mattresses with their springs hanging out, heroin syringes and used condoms.

The first um incident occurred last Wednesday when the sheer giddy freedom of being a lusty housewife loose in Baltimore when straight to my head. After a gal pal and I enjoyed a boozy lunch and relaxing pedicure I remembered that oh yeah I had to collect the kids from school. Fear not, I successfully achieved that but once we got home realized I had a throbbing headache. So I popped what I thought were two Tylenol. Alas when I looked at the container I realized I'd actually taken a sleeping tablet called Tylenol PM - which is an absolute Godsend, you know, if you actually want to go to sleep. Unfortunately it was 4pm on a Wednesday and I suddenly felt very tired. After deciding that the drive to the girls' ballet class was probably unwise due to the threat of sleeping at the while I decided to lie down on the sofa 'just for a minute.' Three hours later I was shaken awake by my daughter who demanded food. Feeling very guilty indeed I arose and swiftly assembled a nutritious meal (aka mac and cheese from a box).

Now of course, living in America I've been thinking that maybe I could sue Tylenol like that woman who burnt herself on McDonalds coffee because she had no idea coffee was made with boiling water. Indeed the two containers for Tylenol do look startlingly similar. That said I don't think I have much of a case. I will just have to put the PM one in a place I don't visit very much like on the ironing board so that I only access it in an insomnia related emergency.

The other thing that happened was on the Friday my kids went home with another family because it had clear slipped my mind that they had a half day. The problem with living in a happy clappy community I suppose is you know that there will always be someone looking out for your kid so you don't worry too much. I have even, believe it or not, taken a few kids to my house when their parents didn't show up - it's no biggie. But forgeetting the half day somehow seemed like the final straw, and the first step towards senility. Luckily my husband has returned in the nick of time - I have to buy supplies for the girls' Brownie camping trip today and there are 35 items on it - frankly, I think doing it solo would have tipped me over the edge.

I have absolutely no idea how anyone has more than one kid. Have you ever accidentally mislaid one of your kids or taken one pill in lieu of another with disastrous consequences? Feel free to share!

Jelly Brained Bint: Random Tuesday Thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 14:29:00 +0000

The sultry Naomi from featured me on SheKnows’ Daily Delights mentioned me as one of the Top 10 Humor Blogs. So now I've got a bit of performance anxiety. I have to show I am funny and will no doubt end up with bloggers' droop. So here goes nothing.

Another funny lady Naomi raved about was the Un Mom who runs Random Tuesdays.What's that you may well ask? Well it's basically a challenge. Put on the slap, go to the nearest bar and see how long it takes to 'bag and bed' a random person of whichever gender you fancy.

[Just kidding!]

It's actually a game where you scribble down whatever's in your head. So here's what's in mine:

Jelly Brained Bint Senility beckons. Everyone in the family got new sneakers on the weekend. Well yesterday I was wearing rain boots as it was raining to I took what I thought were my new sneakers with me to the gym. When I got there I could not get the sneakers on. I'd totally forgotten my daughter had gotten new sneakers and that these were hers. I kept thinking either I've drunk an Alice in Wonderland potion and my feet have shrunk or I'm so senile that I bought shoes two sizes too small. I couldn't work out in the small sneakers as I felt like my toes were being crushed in a vise - and in a feat of madness I even drove home to get my old sneakers so I could partake in the 'Body Pump' class. Six hours later my daughter pointed out I'd been trying to wedge my Plates of Meat into her new sneakers like an Ugly Sister into a glass slipper. So basically I am going totally gaga. Is it just me? Please tell me it's not just me.

Aussie Brothel Opening I keep seeing business opportunities everywhere. Like I don't actually want to run the businesses but you know, I see the openings. Like my husband's brother works in a copper mine in Australia, a three hour flight from Perth. The workers on base get two weeks on and one week off when they are flown back to Perth. Now imagine the scene: 400 men and 4 women live in this complex. Now apart from offering the women workers free chastity belts and putting steel plates in their bedroom doors to stop them being broken into by randy engineers (by the way they also give all the workes a 24/7 open bar - only in Australia -so this is an accident waiting to happen) isn't it obvious that there is an opening here for a brothel? Since brothels are legal in Australia this seems like a no brainer. You can't put 400 randy lads in the middle of nowhere and not expect things to go pear shaped without some degree of release? That's just plain unfair. Contact me now to learn more about this exciting business opportunity. Supply and demand you see. I reckon you could do ten minutes work for $100 Australian. Market forces and all that. What say you?

Vegetables in Jello Diet I'm thinking of starting a vegetables in Jello diet. Because eating bright radishes in lime jelly would make even my cast iron stomach do a back flip. Patent pending. The wierd thing is those cheerful peeps in this video actually make it seem feasible so try some veg in jello today!

I'm afraid that's all there is in my cranium at present but please link up and join in the fun and let's see what delectable morsels lie at the bottom of your brain. So Random Up Y'All

Not a Happy Camper

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 13:28:00 +0000

Today sees me venting a fit of camping rage over at my column in At Home magazine

Since both my daughters are going camping with the Brownies this weekend, the Brownie leader asked me if I wanted to come along as a chaperone...

Luckily I just about stopped myself from screaming, “No! Of course not! Are you insane!” I mean, come on, we are talking about a total back to nature experience here. We are talking about waking up amongst a gaggle of Brownies in a really bad mood without any access to a coffee machine.

Tweak my button to read the rest of the article here:

Equal Rights for Orgasms

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 15:31:00 +0000

It isn't often I get behind a cause but getting behind Slummy Single Mummy's campaign for Equal Rights for Orgasms seemed like a no brainer. She first spearheaded the campaign after her new boyfriend told her something about "the natural ratio of male to female orgasms is five to one, three to one if you’re lucky. Apparently this is Nature’s Way. Something to do with cavemen and childbirth." And while she's pretty sure he was just yanking her chain, when I first read that dreadful statistic, 5 to 1, well, I screamed.

I don't often react violently to something I read and bear in mind I was reading her blog in a public library. A librarian came over and told me to "simmer down." So I did. Still reeling with shock, I slunk to the bathroom, splashed cold water over my face and tried to think whether there could be any truth to this statistic.

Now I don't want to boast but I'm pretty much a 2 or 3 to 1 (female to male). The way I see it women can have multiples so we're streets ahead. So maybe it takes a few months training with diagrams, very loud moaning when he 'hits the mark' and felt tip marked circles around the erogenous zones (I only partly jest) but once your partner is fully trained surely it's a no brainer to take the lady to the top of the mountain and hear her yodel?

No, if this 5 to 1 thing is the case, and that some women are going without their rightful share of orgasms, then I'm afraid I have to lay it firmly at the feet of the women. Sure I've been with guys who for one reason or another didn't exactly light my fire but obviously those boyfriends were put back on the 'gently used' shelf so some other poor sucker could try and breathe life into their subpar sexual skills.

If the guy isn't hitting the mark then that's it, as far as I'm concerned, it's curtains. And before you think I'm being selfish think about if the clitoris was on on the other foot: if your partner did not regularly climax, if you left him high and dry more often than not, would he happy about it? Or would he complain so much you'd never hear the end of it? You know the answer. I'm really tired of hearing women's mags talking about sex as 'enjoy the journey, don't try and rush to the destination.' What a crock. Now, not being of the leisure class with the funds to fly Business Class with my own valet, I can't say there's many a journey in a smelly economy flight surrounded my my own puking progeny that I've enjoyed that much even when the final destination was lovely. So I say no, the destination is what's important and sod the ride.

Which brings me to the dare to bare portion of my post. Do you think the 5 to 1 ratio is right? If you are a female, does that ratio apply to you? If so what do you think is going wrong? If you are a man does the 5 to 1 sound right? Even taking into the account the high numbers of O fakers out there.

And if - God forbid - you are not even achieving a 1 to 1 I urge you to join the campaign for Equal Rights for Orgasms as a matter of urgency.

Animal Magnetism

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 20:40:00 +0000

Well last week I volunteered to lead twelve seven year olds through a forest on a field trip to learn about Native Americans. The trip lasted four hours and afterwards I had to have a G&T and a nap. I mean seriously, the twelve went in all different directions, tried to skate on an icy pond and fell over, got knee deep in mud, and generally whacked each other while I shouted myself hoarse trying to get them all in single file. And were any of them grateful for this marvellous educational opportunity? No, most of them moaned and said they were 'freezing and wanted to go home.'

So when I saw that video of the goldfish doing synchronized swimming after allegedly being fed iron filings and dragged around by a magnet I must say the thought did occur to me about how much easier it might have been for me and for all those teachers and Girl Scout leaders on the verge of a nervous breakdowns if they'd simply followed suit. How much easier it would be if, on school trips, all the kids were secretely fed iron filings for breakfast (easily done mix it with All Bran and I defy anyone to tell the difference) with the result that they'd then march behind me in single file pulled along by a giant magnet sequestered in my backpack.

In fact I can think of a lot of ways in which the iron filing/magnet idea could save people a lot of effort. For example what about lazy pole dancers? If the lady wore a metal headdress she could be sort of spun round via giant magnets.

There are so many ways magnets could help us. I'm sure you can think of some. Go on let's put our thinking caps on. Who would you like to magnetize?

Romancing the Crone

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 15:14:00 +0000

If any of you out there are newly solo and rushing to join a dating website, let me offer you a word of caution before you dive in. There is a new breed of man out there looking to hook forty plus women. He will whisper words of utter delight in your ear, he will look like a God and will immediately be smitten by 'your beautiful smile.' The downside is he's a Romeo Scammer, and, as a mature friend of mine told me, they are wriggling all over the dating website scene, like woodworms in wood!

Bloggering Off

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 18:58:00 +0000

As you may know I am very guarded about my privacy but as you have all been so loyal in reading this blog I thought I'd offer you a little treat. As I'm bloggering off for a three day weekend I thought I'd give you a tantalising voyeuristic peek into the life of Sex Kitten, Mum and Blogette Extroardinaire aka Emma K. So enjoy! Dip your toe into the waters of my perfect life....

Friday afternoon. First stop, stock up on booze

Go to hubby's office and am greeted by Gary the receptionist who is making goo goo eyes at my husband

Try to stop hubby staring at Gary so I can wrestle the typewriter out of his hands

The office bike waylays me and starts yacking about how Gary isn't doing his bit to join in with the cost cutting initiatives in the workplace. She points out that she herself has been recycling her tops but when I try to talk to Gary about how he should start recycling his typewriter ribbbons I find him giggling in the corner with Gary over the latest copu of Vogue. They're talking about whether leopard print can work with bright red hair. The consensus seems to be yes, but only if you're Rhianna.

I say, "Since when do guys read Vogue?" and all I get back is some eyelash fluttering and some high pitched giggling. Honestly, they're like a couple of school girls.

Gary begs to come along for the weekend. I've had a few so I say why not! We pick up the kids

.....and drive to the countryside. Hubby tells me that pink doesn't go with brown and that my bum looks big in that dress. I have a bloody good sulk on the car ride but Gary and hubby don't notice.

I notice something is lacking at the camp site that I can't put my finger on. After being informed it is clothing optional I freak out but am too tired to leave. Put tents up in the dark

Wake up to find husband in Gary's tent. Hubby says he got lost on the way to the Portaloo and ended up naked on top of Gary. Not altogether convinced.

Put on a brave face, pop a Valium and pig out on Duck a l'Orange

Spend the day at the spa wondering if my day can get any more shit and what Gary's got that I don't.

Things are looking up!! Gary has been shot in a freak shooting accident, right in the balls. No idea who would have done something like that.

We drive home leaving Gary in the local hospital to have his balls seen to. The kids ask why Uncle Gary was making pig noises in daddy's tent last night and I say I think they were doing a reenactment of the novel Animal Farm.

When we get home hubby locks himself in his room, puffs on a cigar and plays with all the latest gadgets while whispering on the phone to Gary.

Cry myself to sleep looking at our wedding photo and wondering where it all went wrong.

Finally decide that enough is enough with the self pity and that sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose and that I deserve a piece of sausage too and spend the rest of the weekend at the local Bierfest. Wake up covered in Sauerkraut and sausage links. Stuffed but happy.

Hope your weekend was as good as mine! Do spill the beans.

Is Modern Sex a Bed of Poses?

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 19:43:00 +0000

My Bible: Years later this swimsuit was died green and worn back to front by Borat

Time was in the eighties as a young woman who read Cosmopolitan Magazine with reverance when I felt I'd arrived. I could pack a capsule wardrobe (Four Easy Pieces! Twelve Great Looks!) for a mini-break in Acapulco. I could unfold a female condom in the dark while reclining on a bed with a martini clutched decorously in the other and put it over the correct orifice without it looking like an unfortunate pubic pac-a-mac*. Then my date might say, "Have you tried the upright donkey balancing on a prancing mongoose?" And I'd yawn and be like "Yeah, I read all about it in Cosmo." And if you managed to have an orgasm while you had your left foot crammed up behind his right tonsil, well that was a bonus.

Then Cosmo raised the bar. It wasn't good enough to have one pesky orgasm. You had to have multiples. You had to have blended vaginal and clitoral orgasms. You had to try and have a G-Spot orgasm. Then as soon as you could have a G-spot orgasm at the drop of the hat you had to show off that you could do it for hours without any orgasm at all by doing tantric sex - a form of intimacy involving listening to Sting talking about his day long sex sessions by paying up to thirteen thousand dollars a pop. The pressure to be sexually hip had become relentless and only the toughest cookies could survive.

Because as soon as tantric sex was 'so over' the new sexual kick on the block was squirting. Possibly a plot devised by Martha Stewart and sheet manufacturers the world over because squirting ruins your sheets, you were nobody if you couldn't make yourself squirt. By this point I was happily married and didn't have the energy to find whichever patch of vaginal wall you have to access to make yourself gush. But that doesn't mean I'm not intrigued. In fact Fingers wrote here about the downside of squirting and said "I had a girlfriend who was a squirter and quite embarassed about it all. I quite liked it but she'd get all defensive when she came, so I thought I'd lighten her mood by donning swim goggles one night. She freaked. We were finished by the end of the week. Funny that."

I do feel sorry for girls coming of age (pun intended) in this less pedestrian and more sophisticated age in a time where there are more sexual bars to reach than ever before. I guess these days if you haven't worn a strap on or had an anal orgasm you're nobody. I just thank God I don't buy copies of Cosmo anymore. The last thing you want is your husband asking you to search for his prostate to amp up his sexual fun. No thanks. If I want to wear an oral sex light and go searching about in the dark for something 'firm, rubbery and symmetric in size' I'd be reincarnated as Hugh Hefner fondling one of his bunnies.

So what about you? Do you feel pressure to keep up with the latest trends in orgasms and sexual fashions? Or are you more old school about things and feel like even though you've been doing the same thing in bed for donkey's year, sod it, if it ain't broke why fix it?

*Actually this is a total lie - I've never seen a female condom and have difficulties unrolling male condoms in the dark or after even one alcoholic beverage.

Revenge of the MILFs

noreply@blogger.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 19:10:00 +0000

So MisssyM started it all saying she was a bit tired of the way older women are called MILFs when frankly mostly younger men were not that desirable: frisky, panting, a little lacking in the self control department, and all in all what you'd want in a dog not a mate. She fought for a call for arms for MILFs everywhere to start a campaign to bring the older man to people's attention. First she thought she'd call her list of greying male hotties GILFs (with G being for Grandad) but then decided that was too icky and changed the acronym to WSW (We Still Would). She made a strong argument for choosing your well aged Stilton (crumbly and falling apart but with a full body) over you freshly packaged portion of Dairylea (firm to the bite, quickly dissolves on the tongue).

Over at the Cocktails at Naptime blog she listed some pretty good reasons why your WSWs trumped your toy boys including:

"A WSW wouldn’t look at your stretchmarks or episiotomy scars and shriek “What the fuck is that? Dear God, were you in a plane crash or something?!”

Then Heather got all hot under the collar looking at all the geriatric man meat MisssyM put up and decided to parade her own selection of wrinklies, including playing her trump card Alan Rickman. I must say I wasn't convinced (especially about MisssyM fancying Michael Palin). Your older bloke may well have a more well formed personality, but there's only so much chatting I want to do before we hit the sack. Basically I'm pretty sure I fall firmly on the other side of the fence, the fence of ripe biceps, unformed brains, a sex drive that won't quit and a birthday after 1980. Very Bored In Catalunya too came over to my side when she shouted: "You can all get jiggy with your zimmer-framed Romeos and I'll get busy with Jake Gyllenhaal!" Well said my girl!

So while I'd pick a ripe peach over a dried up piece of old fruit any day of the week I decided I'd rack my brains for five older guys I'd be more than glad to do it with. Frankly it's always been a bit of a puzzler to me why I don't generally fancy older guys. My dad wasn't around so you'd think I'd have daddy issues up the wazoo. I suppose I fancy the younger man - and frankly younger probably only means younger than me now so that means a cut off point of 39 - because I don't like talking about pension plans, don't like fancy restaurants, pretentious trips to the theatre, chats about literature or all the other things wrinklies talk about. I just like young, immature, funny, silly guys and if they make me laugh I don't mind paying for it (the meal I mean, I draw the line at paying for a gigolo). That's the way I roll. That said, let me lay out a nice selection of WSW dried fruit for your delectation.

1. Al Pacino

This sex scene in supermaket - Hot Hot! insanely hot! Are you listening Al? You can handle my yellow peppers any day of the week.

2. Denis Leary

Swears a lot, looks like he could drink me under the table and might like kinky sex (probably I got this idea from the naughty fireman he plays in Rescue Me who never ever turns any woman down even though he is married and has a girlfriend on the side in the programme).

3. Gabriel Byrne

Blue eyes, dark hair. Say no more. By the way before you all emigrate to Ireland - they don't all look like that over there!

4. Robert Downey Junior

So he's had a few problems with substance abuse - that only makes him more huggable. Come to mama!

5. Owen Wilson

I love his crooked nose, and his voice, Southern accent, so sexy. Shit he's only 42 (two years older than me) - does he qualify as an older man?

What do you think? Do any of these blokes rock your socks? Let me know which WSWs you think are the firmest raisins in the dried fruit selection!