I was woken up very early this morning by an, excuse my
language, bastard car alarm sounding it’s fucking head off at 5am. The German
owner of the van simply rolled out of the door, in nothing but his pants, put
the key in the drivers door and it was silenced just before giving one last
half-hearted honk. The man scratched his bollocks and got back into his van.
Always blame Germans... he probably had a towel down over his pitch before he
even arrived. This is exactly the reason why the EU isn’t a good idea. Don’t
mention the war.
As you can imagine, I wasn’t very happy, but since I was
awake, I decided to do a bit of controlled dreaming. What’s that I hear you
say? Well, controlled dreaming is where you sort of doze or snooze and try and
think of what you want to dream, but where you sort of dictate what’s
happening, subconsciously. I read about it in this leaflet I picked up from a
shop in Coffs Harbour. It proved, well very disturbing. I was in a garden, and
there were rats everywhere, and then I stood on their heads and killed them
all. Then there were three dogs, who someone else had killed, but I stroked
them and they came back to life. What a mind fuck. I assure you, there was
nothing controlled about that dream. Perhaps if someone could translate that
and let me know what it means, that’d be
great.
So finally got up at 9am, and had a shower and walked down
to the local shopping prescient to meet Tara for breakfast in a cafe called
Vinnie’s which is where Harriet, Tara’s lovely friend, works. I sat down and
Harriet ambled over. Tara was late (obviously) and I had a coffee while I
waited. When she eventually arrived (Tara, not the coffee) we ordered the same,
Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce. It was fantastic and
the eggs were so perfectly runny. Tara and I had a lovely, and I mean lovely,
chat. Can’t believe how much I’ve missed her! (I’m well aware she’s reading
this, so Tara, hi).
After Vinnie’s we went to Coles (supermarket) and I bought
Tim Tams, cookies, milk and bread. Tara bought orange juice. What followed was
funnier than the items we’d bought. I made a beeline for the cutest boy on the
checkouts, as any young gay man does, and found a cute boy. His eyes were a bit
too close together but I wasn’t that bothered. Tara self checked out and when
she asked me why I wasn’t using the same, she simply glanced at the guy and
rolled her eyes... nothing ever changes. Well, I never change.
So it was laundry time and being the domesticated goddess I
am, I sorted my whites and colours out before I got there into bags and headed
to the Laundromat. There were only two washers free in there, I emptied my
whites into one and put them on a hot wash, brilliant. Put the colours on a
warm wash and added detergent to both. Oddly the detergent I bought weeks ago
smells of my Nan. I wonder if it’s the one she uses... So put my $4 in and
pressed go...
I sat down and thought I’d catch up on my Temple Run games,
which have been suffering lately. I wasn’t even at 3000 metres when into the Laundromat
walked two very very ugly girls, possibly the same age as me, with... a quick
count up... 45 piercing between them. And they were only the ones on their
faces... I dread to think where else they had them. They were carrying what
looked like half of a small third world country on their backs and emptied
their bags into the remaining 10 washers. Into the first washer went whites,
not too exciting. Into the second, bed sheets and a couple of towels. Fine. But
into the third fourth and fifth washer went, what I can only describe as,
Australia’s biggest leather bondage collection. I tried not to stare with my
mouth open as she simply added her detergent and pressed wash (on a delicate
cold wash ironically).
I wasn’t quite sure where to look when they came to sit down
next to me and made sure that my iPod was turned up all the way so they didn’t
feel the need to communicate with me. The following 30 minutes were the most
agonising of my life. Twice, twice I say, she asked me for change... I didn’t
have any, but all I could think of was her dressed up in leather. Very unlike
me...
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my washers beeped
and I jumped up, like Usain Bolt at the 100m Olympic final and emptied my
washing into bags. I didn’t even stay to dry them, I’ll find somewhere else to
dry them. As I left I made the mistake of making eye contact and they both gave
me a chilling grin.
Thank god washing is a monthly event...
So, obviously being as domesticated as I am (i.e. mother
teaching me about washing) none of my colours had run, but there was a stain on
a white t-shirt which bothered me a little. I raced back to the campsite and
bought pegs on the way and hung my washing out to dry. There’s an air of
certain satisfaction that comes from washing. I actually find it quite
therapeutic. I wonder how I’ll feel about doing it every day when Henry and I
eventually have some kids. Either way, for now, it’s relaxing. I sat and
sunbathed while they dried in the Australian sun (which was hot today... lovely
and hot) and read the end of Fifty Shades of Grey (finished the third book)
While I don’t intend this to be a book review, I will talk
about it briefly. While I had heard the hype surrounding the books, I didn’t
actually hear any reviews, just about how popular it was. I read it with an
open mind. Well, an open mind is what you need. The kinky-fuckery is, well, in
some way tame. I’ve read about much worse. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no sycophant
but the whipping and tying up didn’t make me in any way hot under the collar. I
also found the sex scenes incredibly repetitive, and anyone who’s read the
books will know that normal “vanilla” (no toys, just sex) features just as much
as the kinky-fuckery.
It got to a point where I was more interested in the story
going on rather than the actual sex that kept, and I mean kept, happening. I
found myself skipping paragraphs at first to get past the “samey” sex scenes.
Then I found myself skipping entire pages looking for the sentence “I reached
orgasm” which is how the author finishes every sex scene... annoyingly.
I’m not sure about the sex that other people have, but I
don’t have “samey” sex... the sex always starts the same way, and the flirting
between Christian (Grey) and Ana (the girl who becomes his girlfriend) gets
tiresome and repeititive. It’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but the conversations
wer all the same.
As I said, I found myself skipping the sex bits and ended up
reading the story which in itself is weak. It’s something that I could have
written. While E L James attempts to wind the story of why Christian likes the
kinky-fuckery around the rest of the characters, the only person it connects to
is his ex mistress Mrs Robinson. I found it boring and tedious.
Another thing that I also found annoying was how the author
flipped from one scene, or moment in time to another, possibly days later
without anything in between. She also left out certain parts of information
that, had you not have read between the lines you would not have worked out.
While someone would scoff at that sentence, and call me a pretentious prick, I
wasn’t balled over by the writing, and while I don’t profess to be a multi
million book selling author, I simply add that I did not like it.
I’m sure there are people who would argue with me and there
are people who enjoyed the book, and while I did enjoy it, it didn’t grip me.
Remove the sex and it’s simply a very poorly written story about a 21 year old
woman who loses her virginity to a sadist, gets married, tries to convert him
to a normal person (selfishly) and then accidentally gets pregnant, all over
the course of about 3 months. I just didn’t buy it.
Anyway... enough of the book review. I’m going to read J K
Rowling’s new book next, not entirely sure if I’m going to like it, but we’ll
see. I hope she doesn’t ruin my childhood... if the character suddenly burst
into a passionate kinky sex scene, I won’t be pleased.
I love you all, be good boys and girls. If you read all of
that ^^^ I applaud you, and thank you J
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