It seems like there are mistresses popping up everywhere these days eh? Seems like David Beckham (allegedly) and even that Ken Doll Ashton Kutcher (allegedly) have been at it. Neither mistress has a shred of evidence but as long as they've wangled a ten page spread in a tabloid I say nice work if you can get it.
Now don't get me wrong I think mistresses work hard for their money. I even started a fund for discarded mistresses who are finding it hard to make ends meet with my Adopt A Mistress This Christmas campaign which I put together with Camilla Parker Bowles as a consultant.
That said it would be hard not to laugh at the state of Irma Nici's dress sense (Beckham's alleged mistress who after selling her story to InTouch magazine has been slapped with a £16m writ by Beck's lawyers).
Whatever the ins and outs of Beck's trysts I just read an article about the InTouch/Beckham coverage that said, "A source close to Beckham last night said he believes [the article] may be part of a smear campaign to harm England’s chances of holding the World Cup in 2018."
But I'm much more inclined to believe the conspiracy theory being bandied about that Beck's alleged affair is just a smokescreen to distract us from Posh n Becks gag inducing new perfume adverts. Come on, you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear you know. See for yourself:
Um, sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little
Anyhow I was thinking about all this and how maybe I could get some of this fake mistress for cash action so I said to my husband, "What do you think? Do you think I could sell a story to the papers about having had a raunchy affair with a celeb?"
"I don't know. What about Gordon Ramsay? I could say I worked as a washer upper in one of his restaurants and before I knew what was happening my clothing had fallen off me and I was covered in suds and Ramsay was squirting me with Fairy Liquid."
"No. I don't think Gordon Ramsay would go for you."
[Hurt] "Why not?"
"You're not his type. I think Sven-Göran Eriksson would be a better bet. He'd go for you."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Okay I'll take it as a compliment. After all, he could have said Fabio Capello.
And what about you? Of all the celebs out there who do you think you could have 'had' - do you think you could have rung Nigella Lawson's bell or tinkled Paul McCartney's ivories? Do tell.
[...as they say in Devon] Today my Aussie pal Kathrine is doing the honours. She struts her stuff over at Mummy Diaries. Today she is talking about whether falsely advertising one's sexual goods is ever justified.
I have a friend called Katy*. She is the girl in my group of friends that we liken to Samantha in Sex & The City. I think we all have one of those. Unless of course you are a born again Christian in which case your friends are all ex-whores that pretend butter wouldn't melt in their vaginas. You know, the type that have suddenly regrown their hymens and have magically forgotten the time they accidentally ended up at a swingers party in a seedy terraced house where they got to enjoy the sight of a man and woman dry humping on a sex swing and making LOTS of noise. So much so in fact that they suspected that one of the swingers was over-acting just a tad.
Back to Katy*. She makes me laugh so hard every time we are together that I always end up with a bit of my lunch lodged somewhere in between my nose and throat. She ALWAYS manages to work her cum-face into the conversation. EVERY TIME. In fact the other day she was all like, "I don't even know what my cum-face looks like." And I was like "REALLY cause I've had to endure it in like every conversation we've ever had. Even if we are talking about the weather you manage to get that sucker in there."
So she is a single mother. A very randy one that for the past ten months has sworn off men and dating. Not the kind of 'sworn off men' that sees women exploring their feminine side and dating a woman called Tracey who is a truck driver and sports underarm hair, tattoos and a huge array of flanelette shirts, but the kind of 'sworn off men' that meant she had lost faith in men in general and had gone on a sex starvation diet. I guess in protest of the utter tool-bags she had come across in her prior dating adventures.
I had been urging her to jump back in and start dating again. Or at least start dry humping someone's leg at the very minimum.
The other day over lunch she dropped an F-Bomb. "I had sex again"
"What??!" I bellowed. "Who, what, when..was it that tool-bag from RSVP.com???"
She informed me it was a man that had been trying to get into her clandestine knickers for some time. She had rejected him over and over, until one lonely night, after the kids were in bed and she sat faced for the hundredth time with a mechanical rabbit and an old porno, she had decided enough was enough. Real sex was what she needed this time.
After a few naughty sexts to the man in question where she demanded to know details of his neither regions (insurance policy) and he confirmed his meat and two veg where definitely worth breaking her sex-fast for, she gave him to go ahead to come on over.
"The fantasy was different to reality though...and he lied..." she told us. "While I expected him to waltz into my bedroom seductively, with a rock-hard, huge, you-know-what, what I actually got was a man bounding into my room and jumping on my bed like an over-excited Labrador, panting and salivating. To make matters worse, he lied about his appendage. It was much smaller that he described. And flaccid-ish."
"Hang on a second" our friend Sally* exclaimed. If he had asked you to sext for a description of your vagina, would you have replied "Well I've had two kids, it's kinda like throwing a sausage down a wind tunnel, I have a prolapsed uterus and when I touch myself down there I can feel my cervix?? Surely you have to cut the guy some slack..what was he going to sext "Um it's medium-ish more on the small side and when the pressure's on I find it hard to get a rise??"
Despite our protests that it works both ways and that she was in fact being a little too hard on the guy, she was mainly just outraged at being duped.
So what do you think..when is it okay to lie to a sexual partner? Is it okay to embellish slightly to get someone into the sack? Is a man fibbing about his privates the same as a women getting all dolled up in a push up bra and spanks, only to reveal saggy boobs and mega-thighs once in the boudoir?
*Names have been changed to protect the big slag-bags that they are.
I remember Fear of Flying as a rather silly book about some woman who sleeps with a lot of guys or rather has 'zipless fucks' with them, in the process supposedly 'liberating' herself. Like every university student (I did art history) I was caught up in the feminist wave at this impressionable age. Not only were we force fed marxist and feminist art criticism like so many foie gras geese we were also asked to regurgitate it whole. Anyone who dared to call marxist or feminist criticism of art simplistic, fantastical ('you can see that symbol of male oppression in the art work can't you Emma? Yes it does look like a baguette on a table but it's actually an instrument of phallic domination) or just plain stupid was given a D. During my stint at uni I thus became familiar with the oft bandied about idea that there is a global conspiracy amongst men to oppress women. Now, let's look at European history for one moment shall we? Just as there is not a 'global conspiracy of Jewish Bankers' that the Nazis believed in, there is not a 'global conspiracy of men plotting the downfall of women.'
The reason many women became housewives and were forcibly excluded from the labour market has nothing to to with men telling them to do it and everything to do with the advent of industrialisation. Up until the 1860s men and women shared the ploughing of their land and all the housework. Then came the industrial revolution and gradually there was a separation of home and work - most men started going out of the home to work especially in factories, while women stayed at home and started doing all the housework (unless they had servants). This situation went on for a while until the mid twentieth century when some fed up housewife said 'sod this for a game of soldiers' which led to conciousness raising groups, the burning of bras and the entry of women en masse into the labour market. At this time women tried to ape men in their career aspirations which was fine but then in the seventies people like Ms Jong got the daft idea into their heads that, hey if men can sleep around with all and sundry why shouldn't we? Why shouldn't we drop our drawers in the name of liberation? The small problem with that was that er, promiscuity is not actually liberating for women, especially if it results in pregnancy and STDs. There is nothing inherently liberating about sleeping around Erica Jong!
Now don't get me wrong I don't mind if women want to sleep with one or dozens of men but I think the idea that sex out of wedlock is somehow radical is barking up the wrong tree. I suppose the silliest aspect of it all is that as a result of all this shagging about that sex is now just one more consumer product and the ultimate irony is that we are such a consumer and capitalist society that unless we are making money or consuming we don't exist. For example, a woman who sleeps with every Tom, Dick and Harry still risks being called a slag, while a porn star like Jenna Jameson is deemed a canny business woman because she makes money from sleeping with dozens of chaps and making her own porn flicks.
London City Mum recently asked me where the hell is Baltimore? Don't worry LCM, I'm not offended. I had no bleedin' idea either before I got here! Well it's a one hour drive from DC and three from NYC. LCM also tagged me to write about the local womenfolk, the Tribal Wives so to speak, in my vicinity. She also asked for photos. Yes she's one demanding bitch.
A bit of info for you lady. Baltimore is divided into Baltimore City and Baltimore County. Now the city bit has quite a few problems with poverty and is also inhabited by the sort of colourful characters documented in the movies of Baltimore native John Waters. Unfortunately I live in Baltimore County which is pretty dull but has good schools. But back to Baltimore City - it certainly has some colourful fruitcakes and since I attract wierdos like the plague I've drunk cocktails with most of them. And if you want photos then okay, here goes.
Hey did anyone ever tell you you look like John McEnroe?
Here's me looking fab in pink at an 80s party (I was off duty). Off duty from what you might ask? Well I don't like to brag but I'm actually an Officer for the Baltimore Fashion Police.
Here's me during a spell at the Fashion Police checking for VPL violations (Baltimore City branch).
As you can imagine I am also kept pretty busy around Baltimore County in my capacity as Fashion Police Officer. Most of the women at the school gates are cookie cutter drones in pastel coloured jogging shorts and I have made quite a few arrests for 'having zero individuality' and 'wearing a baseball cap back to front.' But at Christmas all that changes. Pale green shorts are replaced by godawful Christmas sweaters, indeed, The Mummy Tribe where I live could best be described as the Christmas Sweater Set. Now I've no idea why anyone would want to pull a picture of a reindeer and grinning Santa over their bosoms at Christmas but apparently that is the American way. And if you want a funny story about this here's something that happened a few Christmases back:
So, Friday night, my daughter Scarlett says can she go caroling with a group of her friends. As soon as I discovered that I would not have to supervise the event I said, yes, of course. So I take her to a house nearby with what passes for normal decorations, even in middle class suburbia i.e: a see through plastic snow globe the size of a man, with a dancing penguin inside, piped music playing So Here It Is Merry Christmas and two human sized blow up Snoopy's wearing Santa hats balanced perilously on the roof.
Anyway, the mother who answers the door was crying out for me to make an arrest on behalf of the Fashion Police. I was going to say: "I am arresting you on three counts of screaming fashion disasters, namely 1. knitted red headband with snowflakes on it holding back hair 2. earrings shaped like Christmas baubles 3. red sweater with glittery bits and reindeer motif." But it was Christmas so I let it slide. Instead I said, "Is it all right if I just drop Scarlett off for the carolling party?"
"Oh?" said Baubles with a frown. "So you're not coming? I think it's going to be great fun."
"Yes, I'm sure it'll be fun, but ..." mind scrambles for an excuse.
Baubles peers at me as I notice screaming fashion disaster 4. bright red lipstick on a ruddy slightly chapped face. "Actually, you look a bit ill," she says. "Are you ill?"
The cheeky cow! No, I was not ill, but that was obviously the only excuse that was going to get me out of this. So I said, cough, cough, "Yes actually, I do have the flu, so I'd best be off. Don't want to infect the kids you know!" and hastily shoved Scarlett in the door.
When I got home I noticed that my husband was dressed in a suit and a wine red shirt and looked pretty damn hot if I do say so myself. He was going to his office Christmas party later which I wasn't going to. Later, when he went to pick up Scarlett, he told me that some of the mums had been drooling over him.
"I suppose it was because I was dressed up nice while their much older husbands were lolling about, guts straining against festive sweaters."
"No doubt," I said.
I suppose I should be pleased that I am living with the hottest bit of man meat in suburbia. But I'm not, because I'm a miserable sod.
I wonder if some of these desperate housewives will start popping round with the excuse of wanting to swap some great new cookie recipe when actually just wanting to ogle my husband?
For a laugh, I asked him if he'd do any of those mums, but he said he wouldn't because none of them are attractive enough. But I think what was really putting him off was those sweaters. Go on, I dare any of you to get aroused thinking about a man or woman in one of those godawful sweaters. See, you can't do it can you?
The Aussie Mummy Bloggers are hosting their third blog carnival and this time I'm doing the honours! Their blog carnival is a monthly event where AMB members (currently over 350) submit their best posts from the previous month to be featured together in one place. A different blogger will host the event each month. Please bookmark this page and take the time to come back and read as many of these posts as you can and discover some great new bloggers!
Participants, please feel free to grab the button I've made, and put it on your blog so your readers can find their way here.
But for now, grab a cup of tea and a fistful of Tim Tams, sit back and enjoy some quality reading!
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Jen at Jemikaan - Do you get as bored of the mundane task of grocery shopping as I do? Well this is my little spin on our weekly task, turning an ordinary day into something a little more extraordinary with a play with words. Bitter Day Of Reflected Sweetness
Christy at A Cajun Down Under - Not sure if I’m Arthur or Martha these days. My life was much simpler when I only had to answer to Mommy but not near as much fun. A mommy by many names
Kay K at Suburp - Menstruation related ads are since long part of our life, but now there is more to learn while you and your family are having your TV dinner. Incontinence and the City
Nellbe at Nellbe's Gluten Free Kitchen - what an eventful month, her baby has turned one and she has had a blog name change! Here she reflects on the past 12 months of being a mum of 2. Baby's First Year - Reflection
Kathrine at Mummy Diaries - When Sky News Presenter Jacinta Tynan declared motherhood a “cinch” and used the phrase “can’t see what all the whingeing is about” Kathrine started to rant and rave to no one in particular. When hard is a dirty word
Bec at Bad Mummy - Colic has been the bane of my existence over the past few weeks. Read along and find out what lengths we've gone to to stop our child screaming! Dealing with colic
Shelly at Tropical Mum - Reading Chick-Lit has always been a pleasure of mine, but since joining the blogosphere, it has become a guilty pleasure. I'm not sure why exactly, but it could be to do with the awe with which I regard some of my fellow bloggers. They amaze me everyday with their wonderful words and stories. I guess I thought all these wonderful writers must be curling up with the classics as their read of choice, but my commenters had a few things to say about it. Brain Candy
Lauren at Sparkling Adventures - As a mother, I am constantly trying to question our society’s conventions of conformity. As I consciously and unconsciously teach my four girls about beauty, what are the seeds that I am sowing into my daughters’ minds? The mismatched truth
Nikki at Styling You - I’m a mum of three (two teens and five-year-old). Time to myself is VERY rare. This is my attempt at getting 30 minutes one recent Saturday evening. I had to resort to scare tactics to pull it off. A Carefree life … or just 30 minutes … I wish
Starfish at The Fish Cave - After five weeks with no action the prodigal fish returns with a declaration of love and devotion to the wonderful world of blogging. A celebration of creativity and the power of the pen. A post on how great it is to post . Five weeks ....
Misssy M at The Misssy M Misssives - Hitch-hiking can be perilous, especially when you get picked up by Misssy M The Hitcher
Jo at Mum to J - I wrote this after reading some information that was sent to me re: a shopping trip for someone with Asperger's. The article was a real eye opener for me so I thought I'd write this to share with others just how difficult a trip to the supermarket can be for my son. Sensory Overload
Alison at Melbourne Mumma – I Am Their Mother, Not You: complete strangers who parent your kids in public. Does it happen to you? I am their mother not you
Kristin at Wanderlust - For all the beautiful women I've known (and never known). Woman, a history
Marita at Stuff with Thing - What is your DLE - Divorce Level Event? Inspired by our recent house move. What is your DLE?
Lucy at Diminishing Lucy - An enticing post about dealing with “the other woman”. Portia
Sarah at Just Me - A guest post from my beautiful friend, Erin. The story of how her husband beat leukaemia and is now kayaking 800km to celebrate surviving five years from the diagnosis. Be sure to have your tissues ready! My Heafy
Who am I? Displaced Londoner now living in the States with my two little girlies and long suffering husband. Co-author of hilarious parenting book Cocktails at Naptime www.cocktailsatnaptime.com
My mom's an Austrian, my dad's a Brit, which makes me a Britaustrian, or possibly an Austrish?