The Royal Wedding

Onto a more wholesome topic now.

The thing I love about a royal wedding, apart from the obvious weddingness, is that the headline is a good news story. Two people get married and it's the first item on the news. I like that.

When Charles and Di married, I was at my cousin's house and we were playing with balloons while watching it on TV. I distinctly remember batting a balloon at my cousin's head and declaring, "This is the best day of my life!" I might have been a bit of a dramatic child. But it was fun. And now their son's wedding is around the corner, and we're in the UK for it. I'm excited. I'll be more excited to see an Australian as our Head of State, but that is another story.

For this is a story of royal wedding souvenirs. Do you like my new tea-towel?

See those creases?  It's the way it was bought.
Please don't think I iron tea-towels.  

I was after something a bit tackier. My idea of a royal wedding tea-towel is more like this:

I'm hoping when I look for some royal wedding porcelain it will be of that calibre.

But I have found the greatest souvenir ever.  I pretend I bought it for the kids. Thankfully, they love it so I am quite convincing.

Yes that is a corgi.

It's a Happyland toy from ELC (Early Learning Centre - such a clever name for a toyshop. "I'm not just buying my kids toys willy-nilly... I'm helping them to learn!")

I sat back and watched them play. I observed, then when this game was disbanded I swooped in, set the figures back up and took photos. I didn't have long. Anyone handles my sons dinosaurs at their own peril. Which begs the question - why does my 2 year old do it? She knows the repercussions. Maybe she's some kind of thrill-seeker. She didn't get it from me.

The Queen marrying a dog called Bone-Eater. 

Prince Philip marrying a guard.
Well OK, the kids didn't make this one up.  It was me.  

Kate is captured by dinosaurs...

...and rescued by an alien.  They take off to the moon.
I'm now realising how dodgy this looks with that bed there.

William hitches a ride to Dinosaur Land on a brachiosaurus.

He is soon surrounded by a t-rex, allosaurus and baryonix.
William is toast. 

This is Little Lamb and Pteradon.  They are best friends.
Just thought I'd end on a light note. 

I do, however, draw the line with this fridge.

So - are you souveniring up? Or do you think I'm being a bit sad?

Later: a friend has emailed me this.  I'll take several, please...

I've since discovered this is an Aprils Fools joke.  Nice one fellas! 

I've also picked up one of these tea-cups with a matching set of cork coasters.  So eye-catching.  So tasteful.

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Muff Stuff

I'm about to lower the tone of this blog. I thought some warning was necessary, especially as some of my mum's lovely friends read this. I don't want them thinking, "But her mother is so nice!" I actually think it's pretty tame, but you have the option of looking away now and joining me another day.

So...

On my vlog I mentioned that I am heading to a day spa soon. Did I mention it's free? I was given a very generous voucher for my 1930s housewife efforts. I'll have lots of lovely, pampering things done surrounded by hot towels, candles and hopefully no whale music.

However, since booking this I've been alerted to a beauty treatment I've not come across before.

The fanny facial. Otherwise known as a "vajacial."

Obviously it's a misnomer. One's vagina is not on one's face - and thank goodness for that. It'd be most inconvenient.

It turns out the vajacial has been around for a while. Where have I been? Don't confuse a vajacial with a vajazzle. A vajacial can include a vajazzle, but it doesn't have to.

There are at-home versions so you can do it yourself. Products include "I Love My Muff" which is a range of products formerly just lumped under "feminine hygiene." Its makers are soon to release "I Love My Muffler"... yep... for the boys. Thanks, Nikki from Styling You for that.

If it's the professional touch you're after, you can get a salon treatment. This had me curious. Is it the usual cleanse / tone / moisturise affair? How about the optional steam and extractions? They'd have to rinse well after an exfoliation, surely? Facials all include a massage, so I'm guessing that's out.

Fear not, for I have done the research for you. Well, OK I Googled it and I'm sharing my findings.

Obviously treatments differ from salon to salon, but here is an example: First, skin is cleansed with an antibacterial body wash and witch hazel. Then, a papaya - based exfoliating gel goes on before the esthetician (really?) extracts ingrown hairs. After that, an anti-freckle, anti-acne, or calming mask is applied. It finishes off with an application of lightening cream.

Its name can differ from place to place as well, for example in Manhattan you can get The Peach Smoothie. From what I've read, it's where you go for vulval (did I just make up a word?) acne.

Although this all raises more questions than provides answers. Does it really need exfoliating? And why a calming mask?

And what's wrong with a good old facial? You know, for your face?


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That Step Too Far

You're at a restaurant, and you duck off to the loo. You wash your hands. You use the hand-dryer - which always helpfully tells you to "dry your hands in a rolling motion." Thanks.

If you're like me, you'll enjoy the hand-dryer. It's warm. It dries your hands. Let your mind wonder, and you might think how nice it would be to have a body-sized one you could step into after your shower at home.

That, for me, is where it ends.

But someone has taken this a step further.

Friends, I give you the bum dryer:

If you've spent time in Japan, you're thinking, "So? What is a toilet if it doesn't heat up, massage your arse and dry it too?" I know this because I've been there. I have struggled with the computerised loos where all the instructions are in Japanese. In Osaka I even used one that was a robot singing disco clam. Where was my camera?

But this is the UK.

I know bidets are an everyday thing for many. Maybe they all come with bum dryers now, I don't know. There's a maroon bidet in this house, but it hasn't been used since 1642. The timing of this ad is perfect though, with Mothers Day in the UK just around the corner. It promises a "relaxing clean with water" so let's all hope for a gentle water spray to ease our stress. Prefer some pampering? There's no need for a facial, for this toilet "completes your personal pampering programme." I don't know about you, but when I day-dream about being pampered, a jet of warm air downstairs isn't the first thing that leaps to mind.

I think this has taken a great idea too far.

Another case in point: I like sparkly things. Someone has taken this further and come up with the vajazzle... thanks Mrs Woog for bringing this to my attention.

If you don't know what I'm talking about - a vajazzle is when you have a Brazilian, and replace your lady garden with glitter and crystals. Designs include hearts and flowers. Men need not miss out though, for there is also the pejazzle. Worryingly, there is "junior jazzle" and while I'm not entirely sure what that is, I don't want to know. There are loads of places you can get this done, one is through The Vagina Designer. I just had to mention that. Sorry. But you do have to admit, it's good use of rhyme.

ehow.com

What do you think? Too far?

And this is not on the topic - but anyway - whose bright idea was it to first eat honey? "This just came out of a bee, I'll give it a go..."



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My First Vlog

And the Oscar for cinematography does not go to my 4 year old son.

We were playing around with the camera when it occurred to me to record a vlog. I was given a nifty little tripod to go with the camera, but instead have gone for pre-school arthouse.

I am appalled that the still picture you see here is of my boobs and stomach. In fact, about a third of the video is of this shot. Thanks son. Also, because my son is behind the camera, you have to know that this is not my normal speaking voice. It's the voice I use when I'm placating a pre-schooler. So in a way it does feel like I'm speaking to you as though you are also four years old. Oops.

I thought about canning it and doing a more polished version. But where's the fun in that?

Anyway, here it is. What do you think? I think I look crazed and sound a touch saccharine. And as for the headless footage, well, what can you do...



Mute is all very well when Westlife is playing, but I think the time has come for me to get sound on my computer so I can watch other people's too.

PS: I just discovered that I've deleted this from the camera, so I really have no idea what I said. This is not a good feeling. Wish I could lip-read.

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The One About the Sex Book

I recently had an email from a publisher asking if I'd like to review a new book called 100 Hot Sex Positions by the aptly named Tracey Cox.

Of course I spent the rest of the day feeling rather smug. I must be some kind of sex expert! How did they know this and not me?  The clue was in the fact that I have two children - therefore I have done it twice. Oh yeah. Two times.

I hesitated before responding. I don't tend to like reviews, and I was concerned about attracting perverts. But then it occurred to me that if you are an undie-sniffer, wouldn't you be on a very different website?   Besides, sex is a wonderfully important part of life. So I said yes. Or to keep in the general spirit, I said "YES!!"

Plus I am partial to a free book.

If my chiropractor could see me now...

The publisher had seen my post about being a 1930s housewife for a day, and suggested I do something along the same lines. Was she suggesting I try all 100 positions in the one day? Why, everyone in the suburbs these days is having sex several times a day while standing on their head. Didn't you know? What have you been doing?

The book promises a "healthier, happier sex life with minimum effort on your part." It details positions "that really work" which is such a relief. I'm sick of those positions that don't work. Like standing back-to-back... don't try it. It doesn't work. It also includes photos of tanned, nimble couples with very detailed instructions. Some of the pictures are action sequences for "advanced lovemaking." Am I the only one wondering if the models are really doing it?

Am I also the only one who wants to draw speech bubbles on the pictures? "I don't see why we always have to listen to Chris de Burgh..."

This book is designed so you can decide what you're in the mood for, and flick to that section - heartfelt, steamy, show-off or temptingly torrid. I wish I thought of those chapter names. When was the last time you said "temptingly torrid?" Headers (questionable word choice in this context) include "Be a Better Bonk" and "Saucy Sex Tricks." Be honest, you're at least a bit curious, aren't you? And if I said to you that positions detailed include "the love lever" and "the fabulous 5 stepper" I'm sure you're racking your brains to identify them.

It also has a checklist at the back, so as you try each of the 100 positions "that really work" you can tick them off. Smug sex expert prowess will ensue. Top tip! Once you complete your checklist, leave your book open at that page somewhere really obvious. Make sure guests see it. Then encourage a whispering campaign by saying something like, "Oh, this old thing... sorry but I really don't like to talk about my sex life" and before you know it you are known as local sex gods.

This is a book designed for people who want to treat their partner, or for couples looking for extra sparkle. It also includes tips for those with new partners. Oh who am I kidding, it's for anyone really. Although if you've sworn yourself to celibacy might I suggest you buy yourself a nice craft book instead? I hear tapestry is the new knitting.


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This Star Sheens Bright

I'm writing this anonymously. That's a long word, I know, and it means that I'm not telling you my name. But you can think of me as Brandy.

The truth is I'm special for lots of reasons, but mostly because I'm famous. Not that I think I'm better than anyone else. It's just that I'm a lot hotter.

I live with a very famous actor and his other girlfriend - so yes, it's a threesome situation. I can't tell you his name, but I will reveal that he has tiger blood. I only found this out recently, and at first I couldn't believe it! How did he get that when the rest of us just have, like, human blood? But now it makes complete sense. The man is an animal, let me tell you. Ani-mal!

That's my man!
Bet you can't tell where the fake tan finishes. 

I've heard people say that to live as a threesome complicates things. They say the three involved are not equal partners, and that one person is always the third wheel. I am here to say that is, like, so not the case. It's the perfect arrangement and everyone gets the love they need. Besides, it's only a matter of time before he tires of her and then he's all mine.

We do normal, domestic things that happen in houses all around our street:

- Monday is nude trapeze night
- Tuesday is nude Twister night
- Wednesday is strip poker night
- On Thursdays we have nude poetry readings (I write the poems, see below...)
- Friday is nude car washing day
- Saturday is for nude pool parties
- And Charlie is trying to bring in nude break-dancing on Sundays, but my chiropractor says no.

When I started working as a stripper and adult film artiste, I was called an attention seeker. So not true. I wasn't being an attention seeker because I didn't actually seek the attention. I just made some porn films and, like, got attention. People are jealous because they're fat, and, like, in this day and age - how can you be fat? Just get a Doctor to suck it all out. Although I have a friend who got it done and the machine broke and it sucked out her liver. I'd hate that to happen to me. What if it sucked out my brain? I need it for applying nail rhinestones. You have to really concentrate because they get sticky. Once I was doing it and got stuck to a fridge for four days.

I just wanted to write this so you can see just how normal I am. I'm also, like, pretty smart. I write really deep poetry. I thought I'd include something I wrote recently that you can take away and think about. Imagine what the world would be like if we all thought some more. Heavy, I know.

Tiger blood
Pulsating, bursting, throbbing, wanting
Animal man.
Two and a half men.
That's impossible
No such thing as half a man -
Or is there?
Is a tiger a man?
Three of us.
Three of us in the bed.
She fell out
I didn't push her
Promise.

(Like it? Don't keep this all to yourself... share...)
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1930s Housewife Challenge: The Big Day

In case you missed my last post, I was challenged to live like a 1930s housewife for a day. It was all Procter & Gamble's idea. They decided I didn't appreciate their household products enough and wanted to punish me. Hence the "Life Before P&G Challenge."

10:00am on the day of the challenge and I was slightly hungover, still in my pyjamas - without the sleep in.  It doesn't scream 1930s housewife does it?

We had a great night out the evening before, and came crashing back to earth on Sunday. Anyway. Let me tell you all about the challenge.

Is that legal?

Laundry
I used a washing board with a "lemon household bar" which looked like soap and had nil to do with lemon. As I washed, the water fizzed like Rotorua - what on earth was in this stuff? It turns out I have a talent for the washboard, I was on fire actually. Remember Tom Cruise in Far and Away? I'm sorry to remind you. Anyway... "You ploonge and scroob." Well that was me. This isn't to say I enjoyed it, in fact my back is still not talking to me. And for clothes that have been washed with a lemon household bar, they do not smell citrus fresh.

On the bright side, the vibrations from the washboard gave my hands a little massage. Shame they still feel like sandpaper.

Another thing, I didn't take my jewellery off beforehand. My rings ended up looking really dull and without sparkle. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone, ever.

"Oh tra la la! I'm your household slave!  Fa la la..."

Dishes
I've spent years without a dishwasher, but that was BC. Once you have a dishwasher, it is nearly impossible to go back. So I will say that this aspect of the challenge was rather unpleasant.

I grated the stinky pink carbolic soap into a sink of hot water, and that grater is never touching parmesan again. Little pink flecks were floating around reminiscent of a skin disease. It soon dissolved, turning the water milky and, well, dirty looking. I washed the dishes and they looked pretty clean.

My husband didn't realise they were clean and put them in the dishwasher. I wasn't going to argue.

Me
I brushed my teeth using a bright pink paste that tasted of Deep Heat / Dencorub. My lips stung and didn't even get that sultry, bee-stung look. Ripped off.

The cold cream went on OK, actually it smelt lovely. But instead of just rinsing off it clung to my face like a slurry of squished limpets, leaving a greasy film on my face. Isn't that what every girl wants?

I then applied "liberal dustings" of very fragrenced compressed powder and rouge. It then dawned on me: I smell old.  I really love makeup, but today I'm not allowed to wear any of mine.  So of course I now love it more.

"Only thirty more years til George Clooney is born!"

I asked my husband how I look. He panicked and I knew he was thinking, "Oh God, did she get a haircut?"

Now to my hair which I washed in the bath with a plain cake of soap.  When I first got out of the bath I actually thought I'd got away with it.  Sadly as my hair dried I could tell The Situation Was Bad.  While my hair wasn't as dry, stringy or smelly as I'd expected, it didn't feel clean and it didn't look good.  That horrid little soap took away my swish.  I'll be wearing a hat tomorrow and this hair experience has left me deeply scarred.

Cleaning
I washed the floor with a mixture of lemon juice, baking soda and water. It felt less like cleaning, more like anointing. This is a toilet-training household at the moment, and I wasn't convinced it was doing the job.

Yes, "job" is an unfortunate choice of word so soon after "toilet training." Sorry about that.

I cleaned the stove and sinks with baking soda, and it actually worked a treat. Although despite me rinsing it over and over,  it left white residue once completely dry.  Has anyone told you they enjoy white residue on their sink?  No.  Because it's ever so slightly annoying.  Also my husband is unconvinced about the smell - but that could be something else, as this is odourless.

The instructions for cleaning windows and mirrors go like this: combine water and vinegar, spray onto surface, stab self in heart, wipe off with newspaper, now spray with pure vinegar, clean with dry cloth, use newspaper again, die of boredom. After one mirror I assure you it works but the world is an amazing place so you should be out doing something more fun.

Early wax on, wax off.

Toys
We started off well. I was cleaning the kitchen while the kids played with blocks. They normally love blocks, but today they just threw them at each other. So out came the play-doh... again, they will normally play with this for ages but not today. Which is just as well because it was invented in the 1950s. So I decided it was time for lego and fuzzy-felt.

Oh crap.

They weren't around in the 1930s.

It turned out my little girl was ill, so I relaxed the rules as far as the kids were concerned.

Quick poll: I've always believed that parents used to smack their children because they had no TV. Agree?

Food
I have to say the food side of things was not an issue. I just made sure our meals didn't require blenders / microwaves / rice cookers etc. Tea-bags were out, which is fine as I love loose-leaf tea anyway. Although there was obviously a lot less time to cook or bake.

"Oopsy - that was arsenic I just put in his supper.  Oh well..."

I only experienced a small taste of what life was like for a 1930s housewife, and it was only for one day. We think stacking the dishwasher or sorting the laundry for the machine is a chore, when really, it's not.

I have time to play with my children every day. Some days are better than others, but still, I'm so grateful for that.

A life without washing machines, dishwashers, cleaning products, modern skincare, kitchen appliances etc is not easy.

But a life without deep conditioning hair treatment is unthinkable.


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1930s Housewife Challenge

Don't laugh, but I have been asked to take part in a 1930s housewife challenge. The really funny part? I accepted.

I accepted without really thinking about it. I thought I'd just have to channel Wallis Simpson with her Luis Vuitton luggage, and get inspiration from the wallpaper I can see behind my fridge. I thought to myself, "I might be a modern woman, but I don't need these modern fripperies. Yes! I can do 1930s!" Plus I'm interested in how people used to live, so I thought it'd be fun. This doesn't make sense. I'm also interested in jungle survival - doesn't mean that would be fun, does it?

I also thought it might make a good read. See what I do for you?

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact I'll be rewarded with a trip to a day spa.

But now the day is nearly here. I've been given my instructions and everything I need - right down to the pink paste disinfectant masquerading as toothpaste. I've even been sent a few things for inspiration... check out the earrings:

Actually, I really love the compact mirror. So much so that I'm sharing a better picture of it for you:

I have to wash my hair in a bath with soap that smells of sheep. Now apart from the obvious fact that hair deserves better, in my world, baths are for children or for relaxing. They are not for washing - that's the shower's job and I don't need a demarcation dispute in my home. And as for the wool-shed soap, "baaaaaa" to that.

My dishwasher has only ever been obliging and kind. It's never hurt my feelings by commenting on my cankles, and yet I am going to shun it to wash dishes with a cake of soap that smells of mechanic (not in a good way).

I'll be washing clothes in moth-ball smelling soap using a washboard. Being from the country, I took one look at the washboard and wanted to use it as a musical instrument. We're just some bottle tops and a beer away from a ho-down. Yee ha!

This is my washboard.  And that is a sentence I never thought I'd say.

I will use cold cream on my face - did I mention I am living in a cold country, in a cold house, and I hate the cold? So it makes complete sense to apply the cold directly to my skin. I've also been given old-fashioned compressed powder and rouge. Who uses the word rouge? Even Rhett Butler can't make it sound good. I'll be washing my face with soap... because my skin isn't dry enough.

I can't use anything battery powered (minds out of gutters please), the TV or fancy kitchen gadgets. I've been given suggested recipes, one of which is pumpkin soup - which I make all the time so I gave a little cheer. But reading through the recipe, I remembered my blender is out of bounds. I have to push the soup through a frigging sieve. I once tried doing that to make baby food and rightly decided that life is too short. If you're reading this thinking, "that's what I use my sieve for" do everyone a favour and buy a yourself blender.

The children will play with old fashioned toys like blocks and teddy bears. There will be no TV or battery-powered toys. If it is raining and they can't go outside, the whole thing is off until another day because I do not hate myself.

I'm going to approach it as though we're on a short holiday in a rustic cabin. Yes. One of those holidays where everyone else has fun except the mother.

So who came up with this idea? Well I was contacted by a PR agency who clearly does not like me. They are representing Procter & Gamble, and the idea is to increase awareness of their everyday products. They sent me these products to show me the sorts of things they make....

... then said "Ner ner ner-ner nerrr! You can't use them for a whole day! Now maybe you might appreciate us."

I'm planning on doing it this Sunday, although I reserve my right to change the date. I'll be posting about it soon after and I hope you'll join me to laugh at my pain. I know I would.

PS: this challenge even has its own Twitter hashtag. This means you can follow the challenge while you use your modern-day products and appliances and laugh at us: #lifebeforeP&G.


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Pet Hates. Not to be Confused with "Hates Pets."

This week's listography is a cracker. It's "My 5 Pet Hates." Considering each of us have at least ten, I predict some good reading among participants, although it might get a little angry. Here are mine:

1. The phrase "at the end of the day"
Is this a London thing? An English thing? Is it British? Why? Why???

Yesterday while shopping, I was happily eavesdropping to the two sales assistants having a great old gossip. It was fantastic and I now know more about a total stranger's sex life than anyone should. But I digress. It was all good fun except for the infuriating fact that in those few minutes I counted EIGHT "at the end of the days."

Does this phrase imply that what you just said holds more meaning at nightfall? No? Are you singing a song from Les Miserables? Non?

Why not just use "ummmm."

2. While I'm talking about phrases, I hate the phrase "yummy mummy"
Like the term "old biddie" is there a male equivalent? Not that I know of. Please, if there is one, I'd love to know.

The term "yummy mummy" is just so truly, truly awful I can't even explain why. I know many mummies embrace it, hell I'm probably offending many of you by saying this. I don't know. I just don't like it. Let's leave "yummy" for things like chocolate and icecream.

Mmmmmmmm. Icecream.

3. "I'm not a feminist"
This is a light-hearted blog. So please excuse me while I get onto my soapbox and just say this: the F word isn't scary people. And guess what - if you believe in equality, such as equal pay for equal work (which IS still an issue), but you don't consider yourself a "feminist" I believe you have your terminology wrong.

Think for a minute about how our lives would be if not for those scary "feminists." Would we have the vote? Be able to own property? Work after getting married? Get an education? Inherit money? Have maternity leave? (This is looking like that great scene in Life of Brian, "What have the Romans ever done for us?")

Want to really piss me off? Say you're not a feminist because you like being feminine. Put "at the end of the day" in there and I will cry.

Having said that, if you're famous and get your gear off in public, please don't say you're "empowering women." You're not. You're just getting your gear off in public.

4. The busy brigade
Everyone is busy. Life is busy. It isn't a competition. I know this is hard for some, but really, there is no need to tell everybody how busy you are. Whether you're a mother or not, employed or at home, you are busy. I get it.

I think we're all a bit guilty of this one. In the first few months of being a SAHM, I made sure my husband knew I didn't loll around all day drinking cocktails. Every evening I'd tell him just how busy I was that day. How boring is this sentence: "I did three loads of washing, ironed your shirts (look no creases!), spent quality time with the children, paid the bills, cleaned the floors and made a flan." I started to even bore myself, which is quite hard to do, so I stopped doing it. Can I say I found myself refreshing? Well, I did.

Up myself? Me?

5. Chain emails
"Forward this to seven friends and not only will Bill Gates cure malaria but you'll win the lottery too" accompanied by photos of kittens wearing hats and a message like "it really works!"

Delete.


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