Mommy Has A Headache

Zen and the Art of Mother Maintenance

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 17:12:00 +0000

Well it is the calm before the storm around here because my Austrian mother is arriving for a soujourn on Saturday. We usually end up having a blazing row by day three but this time I will suck Valium and try and generally stay very Zen and not react and generally be very mature. Last time she asked our 68 year old neighbor Lottie if she and her husband still had sex to which Lottie replied, "Oh gosh no, we don't do that anymore!" Apparently Lottie wasn't offended. Maybe she is deaf and thought my mother had asked her whether they still played tennis. In any case, there are sure to be lots of swings and roundabouts on mama's visit. I have given her a project to organize Sausage's sixth birthday party so no doubt it will be a big event. I am hoping for the Alice in Wonderland theme so I can have plenty of magic mushroom tea but other party themes are welcome.

Any ideas how I can stay calm and collected amongst much nervous tension which don't involve firearms?

In other news my romantic comedy Confessions of a Cake Addict is to be published on July 31st by Agora International in English and Spanish. Initially it will be published as an ebook but they may do print later. If you do only one thing for charity this year do this, reach deep into your pockets and buy this book. It will make you laugh! It will make you cry! It will make you hungry.

What's the book about you may ask? Well...

When she's down, Londoner Kate Pickles reaches for cake. While she piles on the pounds she loses hope that she can ever find love. Until, on a whirlwind trip to Vienna she gets involved in the filming of a Bollywood movie, meets the man of her dreams and loses her heart and the pounds in the process. The inspiration for the novel came from actually watching a Bollywood movie being filmed in Vienna, which set my imagination in gear to create the tale of a plump girl who conquers her fears and her dependence on cake.

Mainly, it's hilarious! So buy buy buy. Do you like the cover? It has made me hungry.

Tango Time

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 15:03:00 +0000

Now back in the USA and what a strange sensation. I feel exactly like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she segues from the black and white start of the movie and wakes up in technicolor Munchkin Land. Because in Buenos Aires most people wear black, the vast majority of people have black hair, the buildings are mostly black and white, the smog from the traffic grimes everything dark, and it was winter and thus foggy and rainy. So it was a real shocker getting back to the USA and everything so clean, colorful and sunny, a dazzling assault on the senses. Buenos Aires is a slightly melancholy place it is true but I still love it.

On our arrival in Buenos Aires there was the slight indignity of being handed facemasks as we got off the plane. "Who do you think I am, Michael Jackson?" Emma asked which now seems like a joke in stunningly bad taste. After that the tour of Argentina hit all the right notes with Emma ....

This was the beautiful apartment we stayed in:

Going up in the funny lift:

Great cookies

Lots of jews so you need a Kosher McDonalds in Buenos Aires

Sausage as Bluebeard says: "I demand to have a kosher Big Mac or I will put a curse on you!"

Doing the tango

Girl drinking matte

Beautiful buildings and street markets selling funny junk

Dog walkers take twenty dogs at a time

Went to an artist's atelier and painted a portrait of Scarlett

Boat trip on Delta del Tigre river

Don't cry for me Argentina ...I'll be back. SOB.

Black Lung in Buenos Aires

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 12:23:00 +0000

Well twelve days in Buenos Aires and still it is so romantic. It rains today and everywhere around me there are people with hacking coughs and swine flu masks. There is so much pollution dripping from the walls of the streets that I think I have the black lung. I cough and cough and feel surprisingly upbeat.

Staying in an apartment has its charms. I always did live in an apartment in London and there is definitely something charming about being woken at 3am by two people upstairs having a blazing row, the thunderous sound of a toilet chain being pulled, the theme tune from Hawaii Five O suddenly starting up and the general sinister groans of an old building. One man´s meat is another man´s poison and I have to say I love old things. The elevator is about 150 years old and is like a little black cage. I love the high celings of the apartment, the crown molding, the parquet floors etc etc. We are staying in an apartment in Congreso which a friend told me is ´downtown.´ It is a nice enough area. And there is something of the hustle and bustle of a megacity that I have missed living in a small town like Baltimore.

There is such a process of adjustment. It just makes me laugh all those people for example in the USA who say "oh I am fat because of my metabolism or I am just going to accept that I am fat and that´s just the way I am." Being here has shown me just how abnormal being fat really is. I have seen maybe three fat people here and I am pretty sure they were American tourists. Everyone else is pretty slim, I suppose because they walk a lot.

We were looking at various apartments maybe to buy as investments or maybe to move here eventually to which most people scream but why would anyone want to move to a third world country? To which I would reply you can´t help it if you fall in love with a place. Some people fall in love with places like the USA I suppose because it is clean, featureless and as soulless as a plastic manniquin. Others fall in love with the grinding poverty, and old fashioned glamour of a place like Buenos Aires. Of course the real point is that if one has money one can afford a decent place in Buenos Aires. Would you believe that the poshest avenue, Avenue Alvear, featuring Louis Vuitton etc is posh simply because it does not have pavements swimming in dog shit?

What´s not to love about a place without a work ethic that has people eating leisurely breakfasts at 11am on a week day? Yes I appreciate the irony, if one had to live like the average Argentinian it would be hell for someone used to the first world but if one can afford the so called luxury lifestyle which would not actually be luxury it would just what we call average then one would be not so much part of the society but a glorified outsider peeking in. So would one really become a genuine Buenos Airean or just remain a foreign ponce looking to experience some kind of genuine ethnic experience?

Well the kids didn´t like it here much because they had to walk for miles but I rather liked the city, even in winter, it had that chill depressing feel in the air that I have missed from London winters but the upside was plenty of delectable cakes and icecreams. So should I move to Buenos Aires, it just sounds so glam, "I live in Buenos Aires." Yes there are some open sewers that stink and I don´t really want to think of what it smells like in summer. But I am a restless person and maybe I will end up here. I will post my pics when I get back!!

Flap Trimming on the NHS

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 14:25:00 +0000

Okay, well I am gearing up for my trip to Argentina next week. I have had a Brazilian bikini wax and have stocked up with pills for the twenty hour flight with two kids - I think most of you will understand if I pack a few Valium, no?

I am also packing my binoculars so that I am sure to really get to see all the cultural sites in Buenos Aires such as:

These lads are from some Argentinian rugby team called "Los Pumas". And apparently the polo players are even sexier. Maybe I will 'Do a Barrantes' like Fergie's mum did.

Susan and Hector Barrantes

Remember Susan Barrantes, who got one sniff of polo player Hector Barrantes and bolted to Argentina with him in 1972? What a lark, eh?

If you find you are feeling withdrawal symptoms from my caustic wit while I am in South America don't fret pet - I am writing for a fabulous new site called Powder Room Graffiti. Check out my article on Designer Vaginas about the current mania for trimming one's flaps. My pal MsMarmitelover told me via twitter that she has a friend in the UK who had her flaps trimmed on the NHS, apparently she only had "slightly uneven flaps, not that I saw. She had a phobia about it, so our govt paid for her flaps to be trimmed. Nice eh?" I am sure Electro Kevin will be spitting blood when he hears about this waste of public or should that be pubic funds, eh Kev?

Anyway if I don't see you before I take off do wish me bon voyage!

Emma
xxx

High Infidelity

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 16:54:00 +0000

Infidelity is a complex subject so I'm not going to try and give a few glib answers about why people do it but it does seem to me that people are a lot less enlightened about infidelity these days than you might think. In the old days it was, Oh Mrs Simmons from 93 had an affair and everyone knows her son Jimmy isn't really Mr Simmons' but let's not talk about it. Basically you just ignored the fact your husband or wife was up to no good and let the pain fester like a septic wound until you died because divorce was taboo.

I remember visiting my granddad (83) after being out of touch for many years - a British upper class somewhat overbearing character - in his cottage in England. My grandmother had died ten years before and actually I was pretty fond of her. So we're having a chat about the weather and the price of petrol when I notice there are no pictures of my gran anywhere in the sitting room and there is some other old woman plastered all over the place. So I say, "Oh, who's that?"

He doesn't bat an eyelid and says, "Oh that's Daphne, my lover. She's been my lover all my life." He then goes on to tell me he's been bonking her all these years while I want to put my fingers in my ears and scream, please make him stop! Then he goes on to say after gran died he married this old bird and bought her a flat and they moved in together. All very touching, until she died after falling off a bus. I don't know, I just thought, you jerk. Did you really have to tell me that you are basically going to pretend your wife didn't exist? It really turned my stomach. His attitude was quite modern I suppose: let it all hang out, let's not brush this under the carpet, but he was the type that existed then and exists now, a kind of sociopath who feels no guilt whatsoever for his behavior even though now, looking back I am sure my gran knew what he was up to because I remember her calling him ten times a day at the office and being jealous of other women etc etc.

But my point is this, it takes two to tango and the one who is cheating does so precisely because they know he/she can get away with it. I know so many women, married with kids, whose partners have cheated and they sort of forgive them and then guess what, the guy does it again. I think maybe you can forgive them once but after that you have to simply slash their tires and change the locks.

Like this woman Sally I know who has a daughter and told me recently that her husband has been cheating on her for the ten years they have been married. She said, "He recently confessed that two months after we were married he was with some prostitutes, but that doesn't bother me, that was just blowjobs with condoms."

"I don't get that. How could he do it after two months?"

"Well he'd do it after we'd had rows."

"Still ..." The situation here is it was obvious this guy was a real weirdo if he was doing this so soon into his marriage. Maybe it simply slipped his mind that he was married.

"But recently he got involved with a woman at work, emotionally involved, and that really bothered me. He told me it was finished but then I went round to her flat and found them in there and I confronted them, and I really think that affair is now over. And now I've joined a church and Peter is coming and he's going to get control of his impulses. It's for our daughter - you can't just throw in the towel. He says he's sorry and he won't do it again and I believe he can change."

Well I applaud her faith in human nature but I don't think he will change. Now, I'm not saying I am pure as the driven snow. I had a boyfriend once - for some reason although we were very close we could never commit to each other - who after we split up moved in with another woman and we'd sleep with eachother sometimes and I can't say I felt any guilt. Still, I wasn't the one attached (justifying it to myself!)

So, where would you draw the line? Could you forgive your wife/husband/partner for cheating on you? It just seems to me like it is a slippery slope.

Wanted: One Baby Bird Murderer

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 14:43:00 +0000

Yesterday I walked to school with the kids and Scarlett found a robin's egg on the pavement and was very excited about it. She asked me to take it home and hatch it.

Me "You are joking?"
Scarlett "It would be the easiest thing in the world. You'd just keep it warm."
"How?"
"Under some blankets."
"It would suffocate."
"Then sit on it like a bird."
"Yes good idea. I could build a nest in the front room and sit on it for a week wearing a Tweety Bird costume. Then when it is born I could chew worms and feed them to the tiny hatchling with tweezers. Er, no. Why don't you just take it and show it to your science teacher?"
"Oh mum, you are so mean."

Emma getting ready to sit on the nest and hatch the robin's egg

Then Scarlett came home from school screaming saying on the way home the egg had got crushed in her hands and yolk had come out. She screamed that I had killed the bird. Well I just ignored her and later while Scarlett was out with her dad I found the little one aka Sausage - who can pick ANY lock or get into any password protected computer file yet can barely read and would have been a shoe in for one of those child pick pockets in Fagin's Gang (Oliver Twist) - poking a little key that Scarlett had hidden God knows where into her sister's locked diary. I said, "Why are you doing that? You can't even read, let alone the fact that your sister would not want you to read it." She says, "Oh I'm just going to look at the pictures." After a while she says in a sweet little voice, "Can you read it to me? I want to learn to read." She is an MLB (Manipulative Little Bitch) so before I know it I am reading aloud from Scarlett's Diary. I was amazed at her poetic licence. There were two recent incidents of torture, one human, one animal:

"1. Daddy pulled out six splinters from my feet today but made it hurt a lot more than it should of. He was trying to kill me I think.

2. I found a robin's egg on the way to school. I wanted to give it to mum to take home but she hates animals and said she would not raise it. By the evening the egg had smashed. Mum is the one who killed that robin before it was born."

Let's hope the contents of that diary never get out. Sitting here waiting for Social Services to phone up looking for a Child Torturer and Animal Murderer.

So what do you reckon - am I a bad mummy and should I be punished?

Bruno's Austrian Nuts

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 15:48:00 +0000

If you are feeling a bit down I guarantee you will laugh your socks off at this clip from the MTV awards. Sacha Baron Cohen is now Bruno - a flamboyantly gay Austrian fashion correspondent hoping to make it big in Hollywood.

Seems like a fake "controversy," since everything is fake these days on TV but then why does Eminem storm off?

At last I have an ambition in life, I wanna be Bruno's bitch so bad. And as an Austrian I am highly qualified to assume this position.

I have already written him a job application to this effect (I really did always want a gay son):

Dear Bruno,

The moment I saw you at the MTV awards with your arse exposed I knew that we were soulmates and that we were destined to be together. You are the son I have always dreamed of. I do have two children - who are unfortunately girls - but it has always been my dream to have a gay son. Who doesn't dream of one day watching one's son wearing his first pair of pink spandex shorts and sporting his first set of pink rollerblades? Who doesn't wish for that first ballet recital when your son is the only boy up on stage in a mauve tutu? And then, when a gay son grows up you basically have a free interior designer to obsessively worry about your drapes, carpets and sofa arrangements and to tell you straight, "Mama, that dress makes your arse look the size of a hippo."

But enough crying about what could have been. I was unfortunately born too early for the docs to isolate a gene for gayness so that I could have made sure I produced a flaming gay baby. But the longing is still there and as a fellow Austrian I feel we could be very good for each other. It seems that some people in Hollywood believe you are a no talent guy who's only assets are a pair of tight cheeks but let's prove them wrong Bruno. Let's prove that Austria isn't just a place where men wear Lederhosen and ladies wear Dirndls. Let's show them that Austrian fashion is truly spectacular and unique.

Dear Bruno - Let's change the face of Austrian fashion together

In short, I wanna be your bitch. I'll do anything for you Bruno. I'll made sure your nuts are in good shape, I'll polish your jockstrap and make sure that an unfortunate accident like when you fell onto Eminem's face never happens again. Do we have a deal?

Your humble servant

Emma K
xxx

I will be checking the post with bated breath over the next few days. And what about you? If you had to be someone's personal slave who would it be?

Beardo Wierdos

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 27 May 2009 18:07:00 +0000

In case anyone is interested sexual services have not yet been resumed. Husband took the day off today and I thought he would delight me with a cornucopia of sexual gymnastics but no, he just needed to stay home to watch the Man U match. Ho hum, off to straddle a gourd ...

Now, let's talk beards. Of all the things in the world that are wrong one of the wrongest things is beards. Yes I know it is a fag to shave in the morning but doesn't anyone realize that beards make you, at best, look like a woodland goblin and at worst like a Son of Sam serial killer. I'm just sayin. I must admit I have never had sexual congress with a beardo weirdo and unless he regularly shampooed his 'stache wouldn't it be just about as hygienic as making sweet sweet music to a labrador?

The men shown below are not inmates of a mental asylum but are of course finalists in the 2009 World Beard & Moustache Championships hosted this year by the South Central Alaska Beard & Moustache Club in Anchorage. Fair dos, I know there's not much to do in Alaska apart from grow ridiculous moustaches but I'm wondering if these jokers could even get a job in the real world with these Rolls Royce sized moustaches?

If you are a beard fetishist you are very much in for a treat. So here goes, drum roll please:

First Place

David Traver
Anchorage, Alaska
Beard Team USA
South Central Alaska Beard and Moustache Club
Full Beard Freestyle

Second Place

Karl-Heinz Hille
Berlin, Germany
Berlin Beard Club
Imperial Partial Beard

Third Place

Jack Passion
San Francisco, California
Beard Team USA
Full Beard Natural

Other assorted lunatics

Willi Chevalier
Sigmaringen, Germany
Sigmaringen Beard Club
With his superstyled partial beard which NPR's Robert Siegel once dubbed a "hair pretzel" Willi Chevalier practically owns the partial beard freestyle category.

Elmar Weisser
Brigachtal, Germany
Swabian Beard Club
Elmar stole the show at the WBMC 2005 when his tribute to the host city Berlin -- his beard styled to depict the world famous Brandenburg Gate -- earned him the world championship title in the full beard freestyle category.

Am I alone in shunning the bearded? If you're a man have you ever grown a beard and if you did did you find it made the ladies avoid you like the plague? Ladies, have you grown a beard? Or if not, do you have a secret fetish for bearded lads?

For more beardo wierdos go here.

Services Have Been Cancelled Until Further Notice

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 20 May 2009 15:06:00 +0000

Well things have taken a desperate turn around here. On Sunday I got back from church only to find my husband sprawled out on the sofa in agony with a frozen bag of peas in the small of his back saying he had tried to reach for something on a ladder and twisted his back. I think the reaching from the ladder was just the nail in the coffin as he had 1. given me a lengthy seeing to in various ridiculous positions the day before 2. we had carried quite a bit of heavy furniture out of an apartment that morning - him doing the lion's share.

The long and short of it is that husband is still in pain and is effectively on sex strike. He said no position will work not even me on top. I suggested dressing in a short nurses costume and doing a kind of perverted Florence Nightingale on him but he said, "I know you will just end up getting me in some weird position and I will end up in the ER."

So that's it. He is on sex strike. Which leaves me with masturbation. Except that masturbation is a bit like eating celery. You know how celery takes more calories to chew than is actually in the celery? And you're meant to get all excited about that except that eating celery is actually one of the least pleasurable masticating activities around. Same with masturbation. It's boring isn't it? You can't exactly surprise yourself with a new move. And as for sex toys, yes I will accept a dildo but anything that vibrates just gets on my nerves, reminding me somehow of a dentist's drill.

So please keep me in my prayers. I will not be drilled in the near future. My husband now wears those adhesive hot packs on his back and is back at work.

These are desperate times and require desperate measures. What am I going to do to relieve my sexual frustrations?

So you wanna be a Hooters Girl?

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Sat, 16 May 2009 13:57:00 +0000

Do you remember what you wanted to be when you grew up?

I remember having no particular aspiration other than I always saw myself draped on a chaise longue in a leopard skin wallpapered apartment, smoking a cigarette in a long holder and wearing maribou mules. Sort of the mistress lifestyle without having to actually service the guy. And luckily I have achieved the 'professional reclining with box of bonbons' leisure lifestyle. Okay, okay, for five years the kids smashed and trashed the house but now I am making baby steps towards the maribou feather and leopard skin lifestyle and the house looks pretty good. Here's a photo hubby snapped of me yesterday:

Emma reclining with bare breasts. Ambition to be a professional recliner: achieved.

So my daughter Sausage is a bit of a social whirlwind. She has three hundred friends at school but does not like to do school work one bit. I asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up and she said, "A Grandma." This is because when we walk to school there are groups of laughing grandmas powerwalking and laughing together. I don't think Sausage understands that you have to work before you retire. She wants to go straight to carefree retirement. Don't we all?

So anyway, on the weekend we went to DC and walked past a Hooters restaurant. For those who don't know, this is a place that sells the usual greasy chicken and fries but is hugely popular for the hooters that hang out of the Hooters Girls' tops. So outside one of the restaurants, the Hooter Girls are hula hooping. Sausage immediately grabs a hoop and starts hula-ing. One of the girls says to me, totally serious: "She's really good at that. How old is she?"

"Five," I reply.

Sausage at her Hooters interview. Work that hula hoop baby!

The girl thinks about this for a while. She realizes, I think, that this is too young to start a Hooters career. Firstly because Sausage has no hooters and secondly because Sausage would probably not reach the table.

"Bring her back in twelve years and we'll give her a job." Not a trace of irony!

I try not to laugh. Like it could be anyone's ambition to serve greasy chicken wings and be leched at by patrons!

So what did you always dream of being? And did you achieve it?

Spare the Rod, Spoil the Girl

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 05 May 2009 13:51:00 +0000

We've all been there, haven't we?

We are tall, red haired willowy sexpots and we have a 'boyfriend' who we have given a key to who lets himself in whenever he likes and has a permanent erection and is constantly boring it into our back and demanding sex.

Well, what happens is, we say enough is enough, that we have had enough of permanently erect men pestering us and we want, what else, an impotent man.

This is the premise of the rather tedious bestseller In Search of An Impotent Man by Gaby Hauptmann

At this point, the red haired temptress, Carmen, puts an ad in her local paper:

Wanted: An Impotent Man to Have Fun With. Limp dick essential.

What happens is she has dozens of men writing to her, all of them so pleased that some woman wants them, and that they no longer have to carry their drooping penis around with shame.

They also seem to turn up without ever having met her at her house carrying boxes of caviar, bunches of roses, long poems, paintings they've worked on for hours and invitations to visit their country chateaus.

To which I say, there is a very fine line between romance and stalking.

The bottom line is all the men in this book seem to compensate for their impotence by being terribly romantic in a way which no man is outside of a Mills and Boon novel.

Now, I remember about fifteen years ago, when I put an ad in the paper for a Lonely Heart. I remember getting several letters from men who did not seem particularly promising including:

1. Letter including several pictures of a very expensive red sports car. Had a date with the guy, a pug ugly balding barrister who was stinking rich and sexually repugnant. No.

2. A man wearing tight cycling shorts (yuck yuck yuck) standing beside some $2000 dollar racing bike. No.

3. A man who was quite funny but clearly unhinged who wrote me a very long letter with a fountain pen so that the letter was in ye olde english script about how he was a frog who lived in a castle who was pining for a princess. No.

4. A man who wrote a six page letter full of specifications he was looking for in a woman including long hair, an enjoyment of spanking during sex, long walks on beaches and an interest in Christian Rock music. No.

5. A squash nut who wanted to play nude squash. "The grounds are totally secluded," he wrote. "We will have total privacy. You have not known exhilaration until you have played squash naked.” Something told me going to a secluded house to play naked squash would end up with myself in a body bag. Also, think of the bruising from all that naked squash! No no no.

In short none of the men I caught in my Lonely Hearts net seemed remotely attractive. It all seems so clear in retrospect that I should have specified what I needed: an impotent man.

Anyway, I am half way through this book and I find myself getting a bit impatient. I guess the heroine is going to realize that oh yeah, actually er, sorry but she's just realized that she does want a good seeing to after all.

Yes, I do know you can have sex without using an erect phallus, but I have to be honest, how can you really feel desired if a man isn't getting an erection over you? I don't think I could even have sex with someone on Viagra because he would be erectionally enhanced.

Ladies, what do you think? Would it be a relief for you not to be asked for sex at inopportune moments like when you are changing the cat's litter box? Would you welcome an impotent man into your bed? Or tell him to take his useless appendage elsewhere?

Men, have you ever wished you were impotent and thus not ruled by the rod of steel to constantly want to put said rod into certain burrows and with the remaining time you'd have on your hands, maybe find a cure for cancer etc?

How Many Mules Is Too Many?

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 15:15:00 +0000

A letter arrives in the post addressed to me. Inside it is an inventory from a company called Stockings HQ with a list of maybe (I am not kidding) fifty pairs of stockings in every shade, variety, sheerness. Why just a letter - why no stockings? Ah, I read on: your order has been dispatched. And why is this addressed to me? I don't care if my husband has an obsession with stockings but if this is addressed to me please do not tell me he has put it on my credit card? I am happy to be the legs inside the stockings but if I have to pay for them too, well isn't that like leg prostitution or something?

Well, we were going to have a romantic weekend to ourselves but our younger daughter Sausage unscrewed the water pump from the fish tank and flooded the sitting room. I don't know if it was a kind of Free Willy attempt to free the fish. Whatever it was it was bloody annoying, especially since we were now forced to punish her by not allowing her to go on a sleepover with her friend (my other daughter was going away camping). Anyway, as luck had it it turned out okay because Sausage went to a mall with us and now that I had almost received my order for the 4,000 stockings my husband's mind turned to the important subject of mules. Yes, unless you have your head in the sand you will know that mules are in. No I don't mean donkeys! I mean platform mules, cork mules, wedgy mules, mules in yellow, orange and blue. We had a few margaritas at Chili's (don't judge me re Chili's - we were in a mall and restaurant options were limited), and then Sausage and I ran around the place buying mules. I bought three pairs of mules. One pair was so high I don't know if I will ever be able to walk in them or even stand.

When I got them home I realized I have about 100 pairs of shoes. Ninety of them are suitable for the bedroom and not for walking and ten can at a pinch be worn to a restaurant.

I am pretty sure that the stocking and shoe situation is now totally out of control. Have any of you ever bought those storage systems (mine's from IKEA) only to find you have fifty boxes of stuff and while it is all tidily out of sight you cannot find anything? Each box is a mess of colorful single stockings. I would do anything for one of those sweet smelling gays from Queer Eye For the Straight Guy to come and sort out the mess that is my wardrobe. And don't even get me started on the tangled garter belts, babydoll nightdresses and assorted fetishwear. It is all about novelty it seems, and once it has been worn once or twice one craves new thrills. But what do do with the old stuff? Can you donate crotchless knickers to a thrift store?

I am penning a letter right now.

Dear Boys at Queer Eye

I am not gay. No really! I am not in the closet. I am a bona fide woman and I need your help. I have a pile of platform shoes, stockings and kinky underwear that is about to explode out of my room. Can you please come over and organize it or help me sort through it and give my unwanted stuff to the Charity For Poor Kinksters.

love

A Desperate Housewife adrift in a sea of seamed stockings
xx

BIG IN PAKISTAN - Today I am featured in The Pakistani Spectator!!

A bouquet of fish and roquefort

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 17:14:00 +0000

I just need to give everyone an update on my friend Lisa, age forty, divorced, two kids, rock hard ass. Her life is like one of those Spanish soap operas. She is dating a 53 year old hispanic guy from El Salvador who looks like a cross between Tom Selleck and a member of a Mariachi band (so she says I've never seen him). Because she has a need for regular sex she put up with his insane possessiveness and need to call her ten times a day. I had asked her if the relationship was functional. She said, "Yes, he can get it up without Viagra." She was very proud of his functionality.

Well, it turns out he was too functional. Some woman kept phoning Lisa up and saying in broken Spanish, "I am Pedro's girlfriend. He can go all night. He know how to please a woman. He is only with you for your money. I know you are wealthy woman." Lisa thought this lunatic was Pedro's ex wife. Firstly, Lisa doesn't have any money so she found that very funny. I suppose she also wondered if Pedro would have the energy to steer his 'boat' into two 'harbors' so to speak. Well it turned out the psycho caller was in fact Pedro's bit on the side who recently stormed around to Lisa's house and demanded that she stop seeing Pedro. Pedro was in the house at the time and Lisa slammed the door in the woman's face, went upstairs and started punching Pedro who wailed,

"What was I to do? She would come round at lunch time and bring me food. She was an easy picking."

Lisa punched his lights out and showed him the door.

That seems to be the end of Pedro for now.

stinky fish

+

roquefort

= Spanish fly

Lisa's sister who is a few years younger and apparently stunning does not seem to have any better luck with men. She has a Spanish boyfriend who has poor personal hygiene and whose penis smells of "roquefort and fish and sometimes pee." Is this what they call Spanish fly?

A note to anyone with a foreskin out there: Can you please wash under it.

Once again I am pleased I am not single.

Everyone's a Winner Baby!

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 04:00:00 +0000

The most optimistic and inspiring person in the blogosphere, the luscious and literary Kate, has graciously awarded MHAH the Noblesse Oblige award. It is the blog equivalent of an Oscar, and I'm deeply touched.

The recipient of this award is recognised for the following:

1) The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervades amongst different cultures and beliefs.
2) The Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage and offers solutions.
3) There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Culture and Sciences and Beliefs.
4) The Blog is refreshing and creative.
5) The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

The Blogger who receives this award will need to perform the following steps:

1) Create a Post with a mention and link to the person who presented the Noblesse Oblige Award.
2) The Award Conditions must be displayed at the Post.
3) Write a short article about what the Blog has thus far achieved – preferably citing one or more older post to support.
4) The Blogger must present the Noblesse Oblige Award in concurrence with the Award conditions.
5) Blogger must display the Award at any location at the Blog.

What has MHAH achieved? Well, I suppose I am just a helpless trapped victim of the blogosphere. Blogging is an addiction that has taken up much of my life. But it has also been a comfort because my number one favorite thing in a person is a sense of humor and ability to keep me entertained. And in real life these kinds of people are few and far between. So the blogosphere has kept me connected to some of the loveliest and funniest people on the planet.

And now, [drumroll] for the The Awards

The Awards go to:

Fingers, who is a mentally deranged legend in his own lunchbox. A man so funny he will make you wet yourself he also has an unfortunate fixation with women who have long gazelle legs (why not marry a gazelle eh fingers?) He says he is still single at fifty because he is too picky but it may be because he uses such hilarious yet unfruitful chat up lines as:

To a slightly-built chick who’s just wondered out loud what the pain of childbirth might be like and confessed she’s more than a little frightened by the prospect of the ordeal he said…’Well when you get home tonight take a #12 chicken out of the freezer and see if it will fit up your nose without any discomfort.’

To a well-mannered chick who’s just mentioned how embarrassing it is when her male Labrador humps the legs of her dinner guests under the table and is at her wit’s end as to what to do to curb his disgusting habit he said…’Have you tried sucking the dog off before the guests arrive.’

Fingers is an acquired taste. Try him you may like him. He's finger lickin' good.

Captain Smack. Captain Smack started his career as the bearded model in The Joy of Sex and now writes his hilarious blog while busily trying to rot his superior intelligence with drugs. He has also masturbated with toothpaste. This multitalented bearded genius can also sing and has a very sexy voice.

Steve is a self confessed chubby chaser who adores women who are covered in flab and whipped cream. He once told me - when I complained about the rings of flab on my stomach that he would "caress yours lovingly and do rude things to them with my tongue in the style of a French courtier." What can I say? With those words Steve had me, hook line and sinker. If you don't know Steve you will soon love him.

Electro-Kevin - I have to mention him because he is my number one fan and if I don't he'll go off on one. He tends to go on a bit about how England has gone to the Chavs but generally speaking he is a really sweet guy who is a train driver with an unfortunate penchant for bunny ears.

MJ at Infomaniac. This blog is not for the fainthearted - there are images on this that even the most hardened pervert may have trouble digesting including bananas used in creative sexual ways and some of the most unattractive men on the planet (nude to boot). But MJ's blog so clearly fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Culture and Sciences and Beliefs that she had to be included. It is actually something of a mystery how she has the time to write a blog. When she is not indulging in all night orgies she is in blogger rehab or posting large green elf pants around the globe. MJ you are my heroine!

Congratulations guys and girl and do pass on the Noblesse Oblige!!

Emma
xx

Lesbian Sex Coffee Analogy

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 14:28:00 +0000

The closest I come to taking drugs these days is taking Tylenol PM. The problem is I tend to wake up at 4am and take it then, which is what I did today so now I am groggy and nicely stoned. And it says on the bottle it is non-addictive. So take that! And its legal. It did say I shouldn't operate heavy machinery but I did operate my car (badly) and I must say I am not firing on all pistons.

Firstly I have started a blog for people to send me their real life bad sex confessions which will be included in a book. Go on, do it now! If you're too lazy to write something just send me a link to a funny/bad sex piece on your blog. Go on! You know you want to. Donn Coppens just sent me an amazing piece of drunken sex which he has posted on his blog today. Go on and read it. You'll love it.

By the way: to the men, your funny sexual confessions should be true. I don't need stories about how you were too large for your lady or how you pleasured her so much she had to scream for you to stop. I may be stoned on Tylenol PM but I know a real story from a fake one and here honesty really is the best policy.

So, the other day I was thinking of stuff I want to try in my forties. I thought maybe I'd give lesbianism a whirl. The reason I thought that was that in all these magazine articles like this one it says that these days many women over forty who were apparently straight come the big four oh suddenly become lesbians. I don't really know why. There were some theories bandied about about hormones going haywire or how women don't care so much about gender they tend to fall in love with a person. Or that the kids have buggered off so now they can kick out their husband and become rug munchers.

I just feel that by not having done the lesbian thing I have failed. People are always saying I am crazy, eccentric and a free spirit. But what kind of a free spirit has not had sex with a woman? I suppose I have not done it because I've never really been all that attracted to women. Also, and this is the rub. It seems like sex with a woman would be a heck of a lot of hard work and I am pretty lazy. With men it is really very straight forward and quick. With women it would be up a bit down a bit harder no I mean softer clockwise no anticlockwise there no THERE up a bit can you slow down faster that's too fast deeper not that deep that's it yes you've lost it now etc. etc. I'm not sure I'd really ever have the patience. It's like men are instant coffee granules and with women you need to roast the coffee beans, grind the coffee beans, make the coffee, heat the milk, then serve on a tray with a flaming doily.

Lesbianism: it's too much like hard work. Discuss.

I guess I'll take up abseiling or watercolor painting in my forties instead.

Another thing ... have you ever had sex so bad it was funny? If so I want your funniest and most insane dating experiences. Go here for more details.

I'm With The Band

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 17:10:00 +0000

Movies like Beyond the Valley of the Dolls are powerful propaganda machines for young wannabe popstar girls

It is with a huge sigh of relief that I learn that my daughter Scarlett, eight, has befriended the only hippies in her entire school. This school, while very good educationally has a demographic of the most earnest people on the planet. Most of them look about fifty. So you have gray hair WHY DON'T YOU DYE IT???? Many of them also have ruddy or flaky faces. Ever heard of 1. moisturizer 2. foundation 3. lipstick? Many of the moms like to talk about how they have double PhDs in Lobotomy and Phrenology but are staying home to nurture their genius children. Their houses are, it goes without saying, ridiculously neat and the kids all have those expensive beds that look like cars or fairy princess castles.

So luckily Scarlett has befriended this hippy girl called Dandelion and they are spending all their time together because they are in a band called The Rockin' Hoboes. Well yesterday I went around to the hippie house. The kids sleep on splintery old beds and piles of dirty and clean laundry are piled everywhere. They are naturally vegetarian and grow their own green beans. I cried with joy at the state of the basement which was overrun with four mangy cats, two dogs and two tons of floating dog hair. It also featured a huge, church style organ. Dandelion's dad said it was great because "the organ came with the house." I said, "Do you play the organ?" He said, "No, just the guitar. But it's great to have down here isn't it?" Okay. This guy was so positive I could have sworn he was high not just on green beans. The basement is crammed with many guitars, drum sets etc and the ceiling is so low he has to crouch to walk through it. "I had it looking kind of nice recently but then the cats kind of took over," he said, lifting a cat off a drum kit.

This subterranean lair is the recording studio for The Rockin' Hoboes. "We've laid down a few tracks," said Dandelion's dad. I have not heard the tracks yet but I've got a feeling that tunes written by two eight year olds may have certain similarities to The Shaggs:

But the real problem is that the fame of the band is spreading. Now all the kids in the neighborhood are saying they're in 'the band.' At one point Dandelion told my five year old, Sausage that she could be in the band too. Then yesterday Dandelion told her ha ha she wasn't really. So all I've heard for the last twenty four hours from Sausage is, "She SAID I WAS IN THE BAND!"

At some point I took Scarlett aside and said "Look, the reality of the situation is that although there are about twenty members of The Rockin' Hoboes you and Dandelion are really the only ones 'in' the band because you and Dandelion are the only ones who have actually recorded the tracks. The rest of them are just wanting to bask in your limelight. Listen to me Scarlett, they're just hangers on, they're just groupies." No, maybe that wasn't the right word ....

At which point Sausage pipes up, "Mommy, what's a groupie?"

Looking forward to phone call from school about Sausage telling everyone she's a groupie. Hey come on, I was just trying to explain to them about the pitfalls of the rock and roll lifestyle. It's never too young to avoid a Britney Spears debacle now is it?

Think Chocolate Get Tarts

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 13:34:00 +0000

I read recently in Oprah Magazine (I swear on my honor I don't buy it, it was in the doctor's waiting room) that if you want something hard enough and visualize it somehow it will happen. I initially thought this was bollocks, but then I remembered a time when this really did happen for me. It was back when I was 28 and I had entered a strange broody stage where I was crying every time I saw a baby. I said to my mum, "I want to have a baby sooo baaaad," and she said, "Yes dear, but first you need to find a boyfriend." I thought, Oh yeah, she has a good point. Well, I did not exactly look for a boyfriend but just asked everyone I met if they wanted to have a baby with me (by that I mean only the males). Most of them were keen on the sex but not necessarily the baby part until on 29th December, while I was still in the grip of my white hot baby fever I met my (now) husband. I was not really sure if he wanted to have a baby since he was twenty at the time. But then it became clear, very clear that he was to be a baby daddy on New Year's Eve.

Don't ask me why my mother was at a New Year's Eve party with me (it's a long story), suffice to say she brought some little lead pellets with her in case she had to load her gun. No, really, she brought the pellets which are probably banned in the US because they are poisonous because we were to play a German New Years Eve game at the party called Bleigiessen. You put a lead pellet into a spoon and hold it over the flame of a candle. Once the lead has melted you pour it into the water and the lead forms a shape. After you pull out the lead you interpret its meaning. There are dozens of interpretations including:

heart - falling in love
hat - good news is coming your way
cross - death
cake - you will soon have an opportunity for celebration
cow - healing

etc. etc.

But in my case when I dropped the lead, I did not have to look into any interpretation book. I kid you not, the lead had formed into a very anatomically correct penis with lots of sperm droplets coming out. Well what else could it mean? Fertility. Babies. Babies. Babies. It was spooky.

Was this a case of mind control causing molten lead to form itself into penis patterns? Of course it was. And three months later I was - what else - up the duff!

No this is not the lead pouring of a penis I made, but it gives you an idea of what the lead looks like after it has been poured into the water

I was reminded of this phenomenon yesterday when I drove to my Spanish class. I really really wanted some chocolate. But I thought, no Emma, you must not cave to the power of Snickers. But I was tingling all over with desire. And then - fate! - I get to outside the Spanish class and next door to it is a conference and consequently all this food is laid out. No one is there. There are lots of little lemon tartlets covered in cream. Of course I'm going to eat one. Or maybe two! It was pure heaven to want something sweet - albeit chocolate - and to get, through the power of mind control, a lemony creamy tartlet. And free to boot. I am now a firm believer in Uri Geller and his spoon bending ways!

And what about you? Have you ever wanted something badly which suddenly appeared?

Bad Sex Book Competition!!

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 17:56:00 +0000

Hi everyone!! I always have several balls in the air and at the moment I am working on a book proposal on Funny Sexual Disaster Stories.

Now, some of them will be my own sexual disasters including:

The man who wore children's pajamas and bit me all over

The flatmate who used to have sex through clingfilm

If you have any hilarious dating or sex stories do please send your stuff to emmakcontact@[remove]yahoo.com

Now, the other aspect I need help with is the title. I need a kiss ass title that is obscene, catchy and sums up the theme of the book. I thought of Tickling the G-Spot, The Funny Side of Sex, but I feel that doesn't er, quite hit the spot.

So I am launching a Bad Sex Book Title Competition which will run until Thursday at 12.00 EST. The winner of the best book title will win my eternal devotion, some nude pictures of myself emailed to them* and some copies of the book.

Please send me your titles! I am bracing myself.

Emma
x

*this is a baldfaced lie I'm afraid

Let's ride out this recession together!

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 13:36:00 +0000

So, collective amnesia has once again hit us. Everywhere people are saying, "I didn't see this recession coming. It came out of nowhere. I am angry because the value of my house has collapsed."

Now maybe I'm missing something important here but Governments tend to spend money with impunity until the coffers are empty and someone notices and says, "Oh shit." More to the point, house prices do not keep rising, then get to a certain point, then plateau, then collapse like a stack of cards. Also, there is a recession every ten years or so. So why be 'surprised' when the shit hits the fan after you spent the last ten years borrowing money, living beyond your means, buying a house you couldn't afford and not diversifying your investments?

I don't know, I just don't get it. I thought most sensible people saved money in case they were made redundant. I guess this is not the case. Okay, I'll get off my soap box.

Right now maybe some of you might want to poke my eyes out (and if there are any flamers out there this is the time to leap in and tell me I know jack all about economics or that I am an airhead - I love these kinds of belligerent comments and receive them all too rarely so please don't be shy and jump right in!) So maybe you have been laid off, have chickens in the back yard or are running your car on chip grease. But you still aren't making ends meet. So what should you do? Tell me this: Can you beg, borrow or steal a sheaf of paper and a pencil? If you can you can become an author. Don't worry if you have nothing to say or are intellectually challenged. Dubya just landed a $7 million book deal and he doesn't even know how to successfully eat a pretzel.

I am getting a little bit tired of saying that all the books out there are for people with the IQ of a Dubya. There are plenty of quality books out there. Here's just a few of the best to inspire you:

The Tinkerbell Hilton Diaries: My Life Tailing Paris Hilton (Paperback) by Tinkerbell Hilton

An inspirational journey by one of the world's most famous Chihuahuas. Follow Tinkerbell as she accompanies her mistress to a colonic irrigation clinic and to a hair extension clinic. Full of doggerel, this book is brim-full of barking humour that will have you licking your balls with delight.

Katie Prices Perfect Ponies by Katie Price aka Jordan

Katie Price proves that not only has she made money from four ghostwritten novels called Angel and Hair Pasta and Crystal and Meth, she can also write about horses. Well, it keeps her in polka dot kneesocks.

If you're worried that you're neither a millionairess's chihuahua or have big breasts, don't let that stop you. Why not pick a famous inanimate object and write a biography on it? I am personally working on Diary of Camilla Parker Bowles' Tampon. It's sure to be an absorbing classic that can fit into the slimmest of spaces.

Give me the book titles you are working on. Let's support eachother here, take literature to new depths and make some dough at the same time!

I wanna touch your Spandex

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 14:38:00 +0000

Panic!! What to wear to the 80s tribute band The Legwarmers concert tonight???

Okay I look hot but maybe lose the Pacamac?

And the hat

Okay, wow, yes, shoulderpads are go!

Okay, here we are at the venue. Why is everyone so freaking young? And why do I feel so old?

"Hey, Babyface, what you doing here? I mean, were you even born in the eighties?"
"No, but I was an ovum."

"Hey Babycakes, do you mind if I touch your rock hard head of hair?"
"Not at all. Go ahead Lady, make my day."

Do you remember the pungent smell of 80's hair gel? .... mmm ... the scent of industrial waste ... it's all coming back to me ... slow dance at the disco, getting fingers stuck in a very stiff gel-caked flat top? Anyone want to share their sentimental 80's memories??

Chimps Have Had Their Chips

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 13:53:00 +0000

One of the biggest hurdles apart from Monica that Clinton had to mount at the tail end of his presidency were an excess of chimps. Since the mid eighties, scientists had been breeding chimps like crazy, thinking they'd be the solution to finding an AIDS vaccine. Ultimately, they found out that although chimpanzees could contract the AIDS virus, they rarely became sick from it. That meant it was hard to use the animals to test treatments or vaccines. This left hundreds of chimps with no place to go.

Consequently, Clinton signed the Chimpanzee Health Improvement, Maintenance, and Protection (CHIMP) Act into being - an act which vowed to take chimps that had been medically experimented on, as well as the chimps who'd been working at NASA as 'chimponauts' and put them in special chimp retirement homes. There were also some ex-showbiz chimps in the mix - because apparently after six years old chimps are totally unmanageable and difficult to control. One of the most famous federally funded chimp retirement homes is Chimp Haven in Louisiana which was founded by Dr. Brent.

Dr. Brent said, "We'd like to see them in a place where they can use their smarts," she said. "They know how to build nests. They know how to search for termites. They know the things they need to do to live in the wild. I think we have a really unique opportunity to help the chimps become chimps again."

And what of the chimponauts? "I've never worked with chimps more screwy, more altered, more disturbed than the chimponauts," said chimp expert, Dr. Carole Noon. "Each one came in with some kind of crazy behavior."

Amazing what these experts know isn't it? Who would have thought that strapping a chimp into a vessel the size of a hotel fridge would cause it to go nuts?

I suppose you're wondering what a chimp retirement home might look like. Well, it's not bad, they have spacious outdoor yards and playground equipment for swinging and climbing.

They also have TV.

"There are some that like soap operas," said Dr. Linda Brent, a behavioral researcher and director of enrichment at the Southwest Foundation for Biomedical Research in San Antonio. "I knew one named Sammy. He liked to watch Barney. Sometimes, they like shows like Jerry Springer, because it looks like the people are fighting. They like the action."

"It's a good moment for chimps, a very good moment," said Dr. Frans de Waal, a Yerkes primatologist who is on the board of Chimp Haven. "If we are not going to use them for biomedical studies, let's move them to a situation that is attractive to the chimps for retirement."

But wait, why are the chimps, once confined to small cages with electrodes drilled into their skulls being given this luxury treatment? Why weren't the excess chimps simply euthanized?

Hmm. With their striking genetic similarity to people -- chimps and humans share the same blood types, and their DNA is more than 98 percent identical -- chimps are attractive to scientists. The vaccine for hepatitis B, for instance, was developed in chimps, and they are still used to study hepatitis C and malaria, among other diseases.

Another chimp expert called Dr. Zola said that the scientists who mapped the human genome are now planning to do the same for chimpanzees, an effort that may make the apes even more valuable to science. "They may provide us with very important information," he said, "about what makes us human."

In 1997, a panel of scientific experts said reducing the chimp population by euthanizing excess apes would be unethical. Citing the genetic similarities, the experts said the government had "a moral responsibility" for chimpanzees' long-term care. Thus Clinton signed the CHIMP Act in 2000.

So let's face facts. These chimps are getting the special treatment because they are very useful to us as potential scientific subjects in the future. But it could also be because deep down we are afraid that if we don't play nice that one day the chimps may get hold of a few machine guns and create a Planet of the Apes scenario where WE are strapped into spaceships the size of fridges.

This post also inspired the marvelous cartoonist NotKeith to put pen to paper (see above). NotKeith does illustrations based on blog posts that have inspired him. To see if you can be his next inspiration go here.

Those were the days my friend

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 17:34:00 +0000

Picture the scene: it is 2150, and a sexy looking older lady looking very much like EmmaK is having a drink down the pub with her new toy boy Peter.

Peter: I was just playing the trivia machine and the question came up: When did feminism end? What the hell is feminism?

EmmaK: Well the answer is 2123. What do you think feminism is?

Peter: I haven't a clue. Is it one of those old fangled type things like text messaging and MySpace - the sort of thing you oldies go in for?

EmmaK: Who you calling old? No, well feminism is, well, now this is going to sound crazy but bear with me. What happened was back in the 1960s things were ticking along nicely - most men went to work and the womenfolk stayed at home and raised the kids.

Peter: Sounds like a cushy little number.

EmmaK: Well it was, but some of these feminist ladies, Gloria Steinem and Simone de Beauvoir, well they started raising these women's consciences. Soon they all began to feel like raising kids wasn't very fulfilling, and they started to overdose on Vallium and burn their bras. Pretty soon they were like lions in a zoo, foaming at the mouth to escape from domesticity.

Peter: What did they want?

EmmaK: Well they believed work would fulfil them. They started saying they wanted to be like men. To work sixty hour weeks in an investment bank or one hundred hour weeks as a lawyer in toxic cut throat corporate environments.

Peter: What? Are you sure you're not having me on? Are you sure it isn't April Fool's Day?

EmmaK: No, I'm serious.

Peter: So what happened?

EmmaK: Well women entered the workplace in droves and by 2009 about seventy per cent of women worked.

Peter: They found the career fulfillment they were looking for?

EmmaK: Well a few did. But most of them ended up in low paid skivvy jobs. In 2009 most women were working low grade jobs for long hours at rates of pay much lower than men's. They were also, of course, looking after the kids and doing the housework.

Peter: What was the point of this feminism thing again?

EmmaK: It was meant to make women equal to men.

Peter: But if they were really equal in society wouldn't women have set up a society that suited women?

EmmaK: You mean like the society we have now?

Peter: Yeah, I mean, didn't they know that instead of trying to fit into the male world they should construct their own version and force the men to join it, a world of flexitime, telecommuting and the option to take long career breaks when the kids were small and not consequently fall behind men in salary because they'd fallen off the career ladder?

EmmaK: I don't know what to tell you. It was called the 'Feminist Movement.'

Peter: So how come I never learnt about this 'Feminist Movement' at school?

EmmaK: That trivia machine must be a really old one because in recent years the Government has more or less erased feminism from the history books. Feminism is now considered to have been something of a social experiment that went disastrously wrong in the sense that it did not empower women, enslaving them to their employers and the pressures of the Double Income Mortgage Bollocks, also known as the DUMBO.

Peter: So what changed?

In the Year 2123 the world returned to its natural order

EmmaK: Well it was pretty much downhill all the way for women until 2123, at which point men had almost totally died out in Japan and women were so career focused there that 'normal' sex no longer existed and women had sex with robots provided by their employers for use in their ten minute lunch breaks. 2123 was also the year in which men could (finally) have babies and also the year we finally got the sort of equality woman had been looking for but had never found when they were running corporations, looking after kids, faking orgasms and sleeping four hours a night.

Peter: Sounds nuts. I'm just pleased I've only really known the new way.

EmmaK: I know. Thank God. Now be a love, here's my key, pop round to my house, put the hot water bottle in the bed, chill the champers and be prone and ready for me when I get there.

Peter: Yes my love. My wish is your command.

Question: Do you think this scenario will come about - that in the future historians will think that feminism was a good idea badly executed?

Would you know what to do with a dead rat?

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 16:57:00 +0000

I used to think I was mad. I used to think I was shameless. Until I stumbled upon MJ and her Infomaniac blog. While her blog may tickle some people's fancy, you should be warned, some of the images will make your butter curdle and your wives turn into pillars of salt.

Now, MJ is a very private woman but I recently found this photo of her (above). I think the picture speaks for itself. She is very much the kind of lass and who could club a bison to death and bring it home to the cave. If only we were all as talented with a club (sigh). Anyway, she recently put a list of Life Skills 101 up on her blog, the kind of stuff you needed to know if you were to survive in ye olden days. She has seventeen of these skills and I think I have five.

1. Use a bow and arrow
2. Load and fire a musket
3. Duel with pistol
4. Joust
5. Throw a battleax
6. Forge a sword
7. Fight with a rapier and dagger
8. Besiege a castle
9. Defend a castle
10. Make and smoke a peace pipe
11. Make a flint cutting tool
12. Brew mead
13. Make bread
14. Roast chestnuts on an open fire
15. Make hard cheese
16. Make butter
17. Make ice cream
18. Keep bees and harvest honey
19. Tap and make maple syrup
20. Find berries in the wild
21. Can food
22. Archery fish
23. Gut and clean fish
24. Keep chickens
25. Pluck a chicken
26. Roast a wild boar
27. Cook on a range
28. Dig and use a pit oven
29. Make a fire without matches
30. Track animals
31. Forecast the weather
32. Tease, card, & spin wool
33. Make natural dye from plants
34. Weave a chair seat
35. Weave a basket
36. Make soap
37. Make a broom
38. Sweep a chimney
39. Chop down a tree with an ax
40. Carve a totem pole
41. Carve a canoe
42. Make a barrel
43. Thatch a roof
44. Build a wall with wattle and daub
45. Build a dry stone wall
46. Dig a well
47. Plow a field
48. Build a log bridge
49. Build a log cabin
50. Build a pyramid
51. Embalm a body
52. Treat a battle wound
53. Set broken bones
54. Groom a horse
55. Shoe a horse
56. Mount and dismount a horse
57. Make and throw a lasso
58. Milk a cow
59. Hunt deer safely in woodlands
60. Mount a stag’s head
61. Shear a sheep
62. Care for rope
63. Tie a hangman’s noose
64. Read Roman numerals
65. Use an abacus
66. Operate a telegraph machine
67. Send smoke signals
68. Cure people with leeches and maggots
69. Read palms
70. Behave at a medieval banquet
71. Read a coat of arms
72. Address royalty
73. Grow herbs
74. Use herbs in your personal grooming
75. Care for leather boots
76. Wear opera gloves
77. Wear a Roman toga
78. Wash clothes by hand
79. Care for your period wig
80. Play hopscotch
81. Play jacks
82. Use a hoola hoop
83. Play marbles
84. Play real tennis
85. Play stickball
86. Make a pair of shoes
87. Make a hammock
88. Make a quill pen
89. Make papyrus
90. Write a sonnet
91. Write calligraphy
92. Understand opera
93. Make a corn husk doll
94. Make and play a didgeridoo
95. Ride a penny-farthing
96. Make a cave painting
97. Make a Roman mosaic
98. Pan for gold
99. Clean and polish silver
100. Blow glass
101. Make a stained-glass window.

My argument with the divine MJ was that while I can bake bread or even chocolate croissants I'm not sure this list is that useful these days. I mean how many people thatch roofs? Two in the Cotswolds, I should guess. I would say you only need three skills as a lady after, say, a nuclear war:

1. a strong stomach to be able to kill other people and eat them.

2. sexual skills to stimulate the gentlemen so they will do all the stick rubbing and wattling and daubing.

3. The ability to make sexy shoes out of animal carcasses.

Rat Shoe

Tarantula Shoe

I have all three skills so I am sorted. But what about you? What skills from the Life Skills 101 List do you have, and what other skills do you have?

The Nightmare on Kinderegg Surprise Street

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 19:11:00 +0000

Ah yes, in the seventies and eighties there were different ideas regarding advertising to kids. You didn't worry about polluting their delicate minds. "Whatever shifts the sweets," was the law of the jungle in the advertising agencies, where people were usually too busy snorting coke off each other's backsides to think about ethics or lawsuits. Ah yes, those were the days, the days of ...

The Big Kinderegg Paedophile

(query: how in the name of God did this get made and get past the censors? Or were the censors on acid?)

I've got a great idea! Let's stick Terry Scott in a boy scouts uniform

Who wants to have fun with a mentally retarded clown? (What in the name of God does Ronald have on his head?)

Still, good times, groovy times. And now here's a song you will never ever be able to get out of your head. I don't recall ever having had a 54321 bar - did you? What was it like? Also, if any advertising execs are reading, it occurred to me as I watched those blonde haired kids tumble out of bed that you might want to relaunch this bar as the 87654321 bar and have it advertised by Octomom's kids tumbling out? It's a genius idea, no?

Weekend Happiness Formula

emma.theespot@gmail.com (EmmaK) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 17:21:00 +0000

I have (unofficially) become a little ray of sunshine in my neighborhood. Take this weekend. Now my husband and I were kid free because the kids were staying with a friend. By Sunday morning I was so happy I was crying. Oh yes, my patented happiness formula was working a dream.

Emma's Patented Weekend Happiness Formula:

0 kids
4 positions (or more - must include one you have never done before)
5 orgasms (or more)
4 cocktails (min)
2 bottles wine
3 mimosas
brunch at restaurant
lunch at restaurant
dinner at restaurant
buy 12 bits of lingerie (min)
buy tons of overpriced makeup
buy four pairs of shoes (or more)
watch a trashy movie (I saw Confessions of a Shopaholic and I'm not ashamed to say it!)

Get addicted to lingerie - it's cheaper than heroin

Mr X was a glum granny chaser

So usually we are awoken by shrieking kids' voices on Sunday morning at around six am. But this time we were sleeping, oh yes, and I for one was on cloud nine. So it was a bit of a downer to be awoken by my neighbor, Mr X, who rang my doorbell at eight. Mr X is a bit creepy and spends much of his time smoking outside his front door. He is also having a relationship with a grandma.

So, Mr X is standing there in his pyjamas looking sour. Well apparently while he had let the grandma out this morning his front door had slammed shut. He was now locked out and wanted my husband to drive him to his parents who had his spare key, so I said, fine, come in, and went to wake my husband. I then had to make polite conversation with Mr X and decided I would try to cheer him up.

Firstly he says he is angry because gas/electric prices have gone up and he now pays $430 for gas and electric per month. I don't understand the disparity: we only pay $230 and our house is the same size as his but I'm not about to rub his nose in it. He also tells me he bathes once a week. I am not sure if this is to save money.

Next he tells me he is a nurse - he has not lost his job, nothing like that - but he is still pissed off because he went to work yesterday and there were no surgeries happening so he sat there all day doing nothing. I was about to say "Nice work if you can get it," but I could tell he wouldn't find that funny, so I said nothing.

He was still looking miserable, so I asked him if he was going to have his garden turned into a patio, as he said he was planning to - frankly last summer was a nightmare, his whole garden was full of dandelion seeds flying about. He said he had got a quote for the patio but it was too expensive. I suggested that the recession could be positive, because I betted if he phoned the patio company again they'd reduce the price because they were desperate.

Luckily at this point my husband was dressed and ready to drive Mr X to his parents and I went back to bed, delighted to know that I had tried (albeit failed) to inject some sunshine into Mr X's life.

Later my husband and I went to brunch and to see Confessions of a Shopaholic. Yes I feel bad that I am at an all time high while everyone else is down in the dumps but for God's sake, let's all try and keep out peckers up, why don't we?

So what's your weekend happiness formula? Do tell.