Pieces of me

It occurs to me that I am not altogether mainstream.


I try to live the white bread lifestyle but it's like an ill fitting suit of clothes. It irritates me and chafes at me and I really want to shuck it all off and go naked. I mean naked figuratively, as well as literally (we all know that I prefer to be unclothed as much as possible; living where I do, in inner city rural bliss these days, means that all the old ladies in the complex and probably half the population of the suburb, in their drive by habits, combined with my penchant for forgetting to draw blinds, have seen me unclothed. This does not disturb me even the slightest bit).


I long to give up a regular routine, to live out of a suitcase, to travel further away around Australia.  I lust for sensuous indulgent dining experiences, where I spend my last dollar on oysters, rather than the utility bills. I want to visit the S & M nightclub in my city and be led around by a leash. I want to spend all day in bed with somebody and blow away work for both of us. While other people are dreading their kids leaving home, I look forward to it in a way, because it will free me up a little (On the other hand, if they wanted to join me travelling, backpacking, camping anywhere I would be thrilled. Others call me a bad parent; hell, even my kids call me a bad mother at times. I do not ever deny this. I think I make KAS feel good about her own parenting style. You're welcome, bitch).


I want to get an intricate, twisting tattoo all up my arm, in vibrant sheaves of colour. I want to drink white wine in the sun and swim in an icy cold mountain stream. I want to get facial piercings and dye my hair bright, electric, blue. I want to laugh and laugh and laugh and love and love and love. 


No, I am definitely not mainstream, if mainstream includes the responsibilities of life coming naturally.


Who is this person that I am?

Some of the facets that make up me:

  • I wear nipple jewellery in the form of skeleton hands clasping my breasts


  • I keep my hair very long because I am too lazy to actually style it each day. Also, because that way I can twist it up on itself during sex and blowjobs and it's very convenient to not have to look for a hair tie, a fact I announced to my daughter in her crowded hair salon, when she tried to cut more than 2 cms off it. Looking at her horrified expression, I said that it was only because she was my daughter, as well as my hairdresser, that I would express myself so freely. She didn't believe me and said as much. She was right.


  • I love to read and recite poetry. I have an amazing auditory memory and often think I would have been a terrific aural historian, not unlike Homer of the Iliad fame. I loved reading the Iliad.


  • I love reading, full stop. I prefer fact to fiction and I love to research. I enjoy questions at work I can't answer because I go away and look them up. Often whimsical flights of fancy cross my mind and I spend days finding the answer to such burning questions as 'Does a crab have a spleen?' (Nope, in case it is a burning question for you, too. A liver, yes).


  • I've swum in crocodile infested waters and actually been attacked in a rubber raft by a crocodile. People do not usually believe me if I tell them this. But I'm wary of potentially sharkie oceans . I'm also shit scared of spiders but not snakes.


  • I've been a paid nude model in my youth and won a couple of competions.


  • I went without sex for two and a half years once, because I just wasn't going to compromise. Conversely, switch that drive back on and if I'm denied I turn really mean. 'Regular' for me, sexually, means at LEAST once a day. Compromise? That IS the compromise. I really want it three or four times.


  • I once invited my daughters to spend $1000 in a timed out shopping spree, financed by me. They couldn't do it.


  • I like to sculpt food. I once simulated roasted dormice for a Roman orgy feast and they were so realistic that people gagged.


  • I bought an original piece of art by paying it off over the last year. All of my tip money went to do it and sometimes my food money as well. It was incredibly, shockingly, over the top, expensive. Worth every penny when I look at it on my wall now.


  • I am happiest camping in the red dirt desert country, sans shower and water and toilets; it speaks to my soul. A little part of me is withered up inside because it has been so long since I last got to do this.


  • I would have made a great farmer's/rancher's/station owner's wife because I like to work so very hard and don't mind long days. If that show 'The Farmer needs a wife' had been around when I was younger, I would have signed up for it.


  • I need stuff to be tidy. It offends me if it isn't. I recently tidied up all the menus at one of my tour stops; it took me 45 minutes but I HAD to. I don't need things to be hygenically, sterilized clean but I don't like total filth and I'll clean your house if it's dirty and I have to spend time in it.


  • I believe that we are too paranoid about germs these days. Allergies are caused by too much cleanliness. You definitely wouldn't regard my floor as clean enough to eat off, although I do eat of it at times. My thought process if I drop something goes : "Shit! Is it smashed up? No? Pick it up. Is it wet/obviously dirty? No? Does it have cat/girl hair on it? No? Eat it already. Yes? Blow the hair off and eat it already". Notice how whether or not other people see me pick up said food item from the floor has no bearing on the ultimate result.


  • I love to make up expansive stories. Yesterday I told my tour group that all of the newly planted vines at the chocolate factory were, in fact, chocolate trees as the factory wanted to do everything in-house in the future. Previously, they hadn't been able to because the climate wasn't ideal but new hybrid breeds had changed that. It was a long term goal in an effort for greater cost sustainability and a unique Mediterranean flavour to the chocolate.


  • I still do Christmas stockings for my girls. I probably always will. These days the stockings contain alcohol and sex toys as well as little knick knacks. 


  • I once stopped my beloved's heart, whilst having sex with him. Admittedly, he was dying of a terminal heart disease but I knew that and had sex with him anyway. He wanted to and I was selfish enough to override my innate loving concern. I figured that he knew the risks and that it would be a hell of a way to go. He concurred. No, he didn't ultimately die during congress.


  • Yesterday I drew a moustache in permanent marker on my cat. This has amused me terribly and continues to do so. 


Mainstream and responsible? Alas, no.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend


About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Pieces of me

  1. KAS says:

    Baby you sure aint white bread, I really love that you've got grainy bits, its what makes you you.
    Please post pic of cat, this amuses me no end also.

  2. Kitty says:

    Can't find my camera but I promise to do so as soon as I do.

    Shame you aren't feeling up to it tonight. I would have done tomorrow but birthday plans that my girls have organized.

    Sunday, if all goes well.

  3. KAS says:

    Found that camera yet, at this rate you will have to draw on cat again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s