Marriage, sex & a genie

** WARNING **
DO NOT READ THIS POST IF YOU ARE MY FATHER, OR ONE OF MY KIDS (you’ll be scarred! Scarred I tell ya!), OR RELATED TO ME IN ANYWAY LEAVE THIS PAGE NOW IF YOU ARE AN IN-LAW (please don’t do this to me or yourself). SHUT DOWN YOUR COMPUTER AT ONCE IF YOU ARE EASILY EMBARRASSED, SENSITIVE, SQUEAMISH, UNABLE TO LOOK ME IN THE EYE AFTER READING JUICY DETAILS ABOUT SEX AND ESPECIALLY IF YOU DON’T LIKE THE WORDS WET, FUCK or PUSSY. SO PLEASE IF YOU DON’T HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR … LEAVE. NOW!

 GET IT? GOT IT? GOOD!

Let’s break it down …. Sex, boffing, nookie, quickies, porking and poking, to a married woman, sometimes feels like a chore, a task, another domestic duty. It’s just something else a monogamous woman has to add to her mental, emotional and physical list of ‘pleasing’ others. It’s neither fun nor painful but just .. well .. just plain annoying, kinda like having to feed the kids. Every. Single. Damn. Night.

Rumpy-pumpy with an eager-to-please partner can be considered much like an internal examination, except it’s not happening every 2 years, it’s expected daily, twice daily for some! The type of internal I am discussing here is where a doctor, regardless of gender, shoves their hand ‘up there’ and cops a good feel for their own (medical) satisfaction. The only difference between doctor and your hubbies style is that the doctor is looking for anomalies, concerned for your health and wellbeing while the husband is frantically searching for the exclusive G-Spot, concerned for his sexual prowess and masterful carnal abilities… Nope, that’s not it sweetie, you’ve gone too far and now you’re scratching the back of my tonsils. It’s during these ‘internals’ with your man that you are likely to be flat on your back thinking “Are you done yet?” Or disapproving your sharp unmanicured fingernails or even after a few long minutes of thrusting you begin the desperate and silent prayer for one of the kids to wake up so he will have to hurry the fuck up and finish off.

Sex can sometimes mean your lady bits get rubbed like your man is polishing silverware. Really tarnished silverware. A really tarnished silver lamp. A really tarnished silver Genie lamp. Furiously rubbing that special lamp to make a magical Genie appear … From your vagina. Sometimes you wish that vulva Genie would indeed appear so you could make three wishes – the first wish being that he stops rubbing  before he chafes your pubic bone. Sometimes sex involves lots of kissing – like they do in the movies …. Except it’s actually reality and it’s morning and your breath smells like someone’s laid a turdy in your mouth. Second wish – breath mints and a cold shower – for him! Sometimes in the lead up to sex, your husband’s version of foreplay (which goes on all day) is a slap on the arse, a grope of the tits, a few rotatory swings of his dick and a suggestively asked question “So, how ‘bout it?” Wish three – limp dick!

For the majority of women that I know and have intimate discussions with, this all seems relatively normal. Normal to rate sex and chores on the same level – sometimes – especially during a long term relationship with more than one kid. But I don’t dare speak for all women because I happen to personally know a few exceptions to this and they are real life, everyday women who are just absolutely crazy for a bit of horizontal hula. They’d be balls deep all day with their husbands if they didn’t have to work or eat or feed the fruit of their pounding loins. They’re like rabbits on viagra, they can’t get enough of the salami feeding the kitty! God bless their raging salami loving … ahh … umm … meows! For me, though, sometimes I’d rather just go ahead and poke myself… In the eye… With an actual salami.

Hey while we are talking poking here’s a good tip to all men out there – when a woman says “make it quick” – mate you need to move that broomstick like a lightning bolt alright?! In-out, in-out, roasted? Good now get off us we’ve got stuff to do.

Sex isn’t like in the movies and the only time it is remotely close to that passionate and consensual ecstasy is in your dreams… with Channing Tatum… and sometimes his wife. Sex is an avoidance. It’s women sneaking into bed, usually unsuccessfully, because even though he doesn’t hear the kids cry at night he can certainly hear the non-existent purr of your pussy. So many men whine about their wives not ‘putting out’ enough but hey princess, put out the washing, put the kids to bed, put your swinging dick back in your pants and maybe we might consider putting out more often but hey, probs not.

Disclaimer: I love my husband and in Australia he’d be known as a “decent shag”. He’s not selfish in the bedroom and likes to please which is sometimes his downfall coz when you’re not in the mood and he wants you to be in the mood things can really drag on. My husband hangs out the washing and he always puts the little kids to bed when he’s home. If only he could learn that slapping his willy on the end of the bed isn’t considered foreplay and as a reminder to all men dicks arent pretty no matter which angle you look at them. I actually have a great sex life with my husband whom I’m still very much attracted too.

UPDATE: This is a story. Not a true story. This is not a narration of my sex life. This is an accumulation of stories told by many women, over many years, over many coffees, wines, tears, laughter and sometimes all of these things at once. It’s ok. I’m ok. He’s ok. We’re ok. Oh and before you comment or send me crazy arse threatening emails have a read of Part 2 and if you still feel inclined to freak out let me tell you right now …. I don’t care.

Wednesday Is Love Day (totally WILD!)

As a mother of five you would expect me to be a pro at Mothers Groups! You would think that being a mother to at least one toddler at a time for the past 17 years would actually make me the Mothers Group CEO – fucking worldwide – by now!

But truth be told I have never been to a Mothers group….

Well actually, thats a lie.

I did go once but there were women and children all over the place!

There were Mums outside bitching about the Mums inside, there were kids, like, everywhere, climbing shit, hitting shit, snotting snot shit all over the place. There was whinging about who hadn’t made morning tea or brought the milk for the past 4 weeks and there was instant fucking coffee. I’d rather drink the piss the crazy little two year old just did at my feet than drink instant coffee. Yes I am a coffee snob! I believe if I am going to increase my heart rate, make myself feel like I’ve just popped an ecstasy pill and can conquer the world (or just my ironing pile) then I am damn well going to make sure that coffee is barista brewed. Barista coffee is heaven scent, it’s an art form, it’s sex in a cup – orgasm and all! Instant coffee rips you off. There’s no build up, no effort, there’s no love or post-coital cuddles. The only thing instant coffee is good for is pouring over vomit. True story! It absorbs the vomit smell and dehydrates it so you can just sweep it up – I’m assuming that will take days of drying though!

Coffee

Back to my one and only visit to a Mothers Groups … There was so much competitiveness – whose kid was doing what, who had the worst/best experience of someone else’s experience and just a whole lot of not listening to each other or pretending life and everything in it was awesome, including perfect husbands which we all know is bullshit. There is no such thing as a perfect husband (or wife), god bless them. Oh and did I mention there were a billion fucking kids! I know there would be nice Mothers Groups out there. I know I could have just got them on a bad day. I know that some of those chicks are actually really nice chicks and I fucking like them a lot! But it was just too much for me! Too much of a commitment, too much hard work, too much involvement of doing and remembering stuff.

fathers-group-what-to-expect-jpg

Then one day something fucking magical happened and it was something that really just unfolded on its own.

There was no forcing, no pressure, no strategy.

We created a Love Day – that day in the week we all look forward too, sometimes even need to fast forward to and quite simply LOVE. Wednesday is Love Day (WILD).

WILD is for women only. Kids can come, simply because they have to, but they have to go and play – like by themselves or with each other – you know like we had to do when we were kids. WILD started with like minded women who also happened to be my long term friends. We hang out, we force the children to move more than 50cm from our physical bodies (except for my two year old who is taking longer to detach his cute little toosh from my lap than the others – yay go Diesel!) and we fucken talk. Laugh. Vent. Cry. Counsel. We bake if we want too – which is never in my case – we cut up fruit if we can be arsed but we always, always have coffee – unless someone is detoxing or suffering from morning sickness then there’s a shitload of awesome Clean Tea in mismatched tea cups being poured!

It started innocently enough on any day of the business week that we were free. Then it moved to Wednesdays, permanently. We all agree this is the day we look forward to the most in the week. It’s our respite. There is just the four of us, normally, but it doesn’t mean others aren’t welcome. It’s cheaper than therapy and better than valium. Now we meet every Wednesday, occasionally on a Friday too and any other day in between that two of us are free at any one time.

We never have nothing to talk about. There are never any rules or restrictions. It is a love affair to rival the greatest love affairs of all time. We are all different yet we are all the same and we complement each other in ways that are really quite comforting and easy. There is no ‘trying’, no being careful with what you have to say, there are no wardrobe meltdowns because I feel that I have to compete with their gorgeousness – and that they totally are! There is also never any comparison of kids, their behaviours or abilities. In fact, we hardly remember we have them when we are together.

Mum

So I’ve decided Mothers Groups are not for me. They are too big, too impersonal, too focused on children and being a mother. WILD is the calm in the storm for me. It’s the normal in my crazy. It is my little life reprieve where I get to breath, feel like a woman and not just a mother. Wednesdays make me dust off my knees, refocus, refuel and regroup before the love/hate onslaught of motherhood continues. WILD makes me a better mother, a happier person and keeps me firmly and calmly seated in the roller coaster of life.

One Love

DRK xxx

Me and my WILD girls….. At other events not at WILD specifically!


Dreams & Dirty Thoughts

My Hubbie and I travelled home through the Swan Valley the other day which can only be described as lusciously dewy, especially in the mornings. We’ve done this trek many times and as usual it stirs up some long sitting dreams within us. It always starts out the same with my husband declaring that he would love to give up his day job and instead build wooden wagon wheels to sell Australia wide. Yes you read that right, wooden wagon wheels to sell Australia wide. He’d also love to own a draft horse, he says, and have a (home-made) carriage so we could hire it out for weddings occasionally….. It’s quite a sweet dream I’m just not sure how profitable wagon wheel selling is since… well since man invented cars?! But who am I to judge says the girl who is hoping to invent mosquitoes that suck fat.

We, also always discuss our common dream of having a B&B – mine luxuriously OTT with everything you could ask for and more (more as in stuff that is pretty useless but pretty all the same) and his is an upgraded version of mine site donger with the basic necessities and definitely no pretties. Our “matching” dream of running a B&B usually ends there because that is where my even crazier visualisations take over and my mouth follows suit. I have always said if I could attach a printer to my brain it would help people understand what I can ‘see’ in there – my next important invention alongside fat sucking mosquitoes… So before I know it I am telling him our B&B will be on lush, green acreage – totally realistic in this sunburnt Australian country! It is also purpose built for wedding one stop extravaganzas! By one-stop I mean there will be a stone ‘chapel’ which is cute yet totally practical, a reception hall decked out with all the mod-cons but with plenty of character and breathtaking beauty and of course, accommodation for the bridal party, guests and a kick-ass bridal suite for the lovebirds. I also added at the end of the conversation that we would also need a big bus to transport people back into town after the wedding… At this point my husband looked at me funny. Yep, that visual brain of mine got totally carried away confusing dreams with reality….. But that is so totally me and they are the luxurious additions to his simple dream of a bed and breakfast, wagon wheels and a horse drawn cart…. One Powerball and we can have it all … Except the year round lush green grass – courtesy of the Aussie summers!

While I had my hubbie in a chatty mood, which is rare because he’s generally pretty quiet, I asked him if he would like to inspire my next post for me. I asked him to think of a sentence to start me off or tell me something he’d heard/read/seen recently that was funny. Something that would get the writing juices flowing for the next four hours in the car. Well, surprisingly, his eyes lit up, a smile that I have seen a billion times spread across his face and his head started making fast paced whirring noises but as he opened his mouth to speak I interrupted him, as all good wives should, and said “It can’t be dirty, ok?” … Instantly his eyes lost their twinkle and the cheeky smile vanished from his face and I could tell he was trying real hard to think of something clean because the whirring noise turned into clanging and banging, I’m pretty sure I saw a puff of smoke come out of his nose too. That part of his brain hasn’t been used for awhile. Silence then followed for a moment as I left him to catch his thoughts until finally he said, “Nup. I got nothing! Unless you want to tell them about my dream the other night. You know the one with me and you and the really flexible girl on our dining table?” Yep and nup! I do NOT want to write a post about that. I am all good for classy girls swearing but dirty mens talk should be left in the shed as should womens unsugar-coated venting be left at the coffee shop because isn’t that all we do all day ladies?!

So, then this is it. This is your husband inspired post. A moment, a small slice of conversation between a husband and wife as they discuss their dreams and visions for the future. A post about our dreams and his dirty mind.

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He really is!

 

One love,

DRK xxx

Female Version of Man Flu

Have you ever wondered what the female version of the Man-Flu is? Recently while I had this strain of illness I did, in fact, wonder this and then I solved this…

Let me enlighten you….

It’s called “Fuck-it-I-don’t-have-time-to-get-sick” or better known as “Just-a-Cold”.

Let’s take a look at the obvious differences…

MAN-FLU

Husband says: “Aw Babe. I’m so sick. I think I have Man-Flu” ….
Wife says “Awwww honey that’s no good.” While really thinking to herself “Fuck there goes any help I was hoping to get for the next three days!”

JUST-A-COLD

Wife says “Achoo, achoo, achoo, achoo, achoo”
Husband says ….. Not a fucken lot.

MAN-FLU SYMPTOMS

Severe sniffles
Severe headaches
Severe razor blade sore throat
Severe fatigue
Severe blah blah chicken

JUST A COLD

Just a runny nose
Just a little headache
Just a little razor in the throat
Just a little tired
Just a – oh really who gives a shit just get on with your day

MAN-FLU TREATMENT

Strict bed rest for three days straight
Ring bell for any service you require
No medication will help as this is the worst flu EVER
Sex may help relieve symptoms. Actually, sex will definitely relieve symptoms – briefly.

JUST-A-COLD TREATMENT

Go about your normal activities

…………………………………………………………………………… Annnnnd so there you have it!

A complete medical evaluation from someone with no medical background whatsoever unless you can include bandaid compressions on little knees, life-saving splinter removal from thumbs and panadol administrations to mini Man-Flu carriers….

Stay healthy dear Superwomen there’s a Man-Flu epidemic!

fly-on-by-friday-man-flu-L-rcxeWA

 

One love
DRK xxx