Aghast…
My mother had an old, large vanity case. It was dark green with a shiny chrome buckle and had intrigued me for a long time. When I was very small it had been full of old lace and buttons from mum’s childhood and that of her own mother’s. Many a happy hour had been spent poking through it and matching the contents, pondering the history. For some time now it had been on the top shelf of her dressing room cupboards, far out of reach. Until the evening my brother and I were left with a babysitter and I went exploring.
I was a nosy child, always looking through things that I had no business with at all, which caused much consternation and endless punishments, but it was me.
Having scaled the shelving and teetering on tiptoes I gripped onto the vanity case and pulled it onto the floor. At 15 years old I was not ready for what I found.
Inside that vanity case was a lace and satin corset, browns and creams, with suspenders for stockings; a leather breast thing with steel hoops for the breasts to stick out and a latex body suit. There was also a black dildo.
There is nothing like realizing your parents are having sex. Not just any old sex, but strange stuff. I felt awkward around them both for years.
My mobile phone…
Mobile phones are about as personal an item as it gets. Right up there with my knickers and vibrator, to be honest.
I have, therefore, a major issue with people using my phone, fiddling with it and I have a particular issue with people using my phone to contact the other people in my household. I have stuff on my phone. My Artist and I are very respectful of eachother’s phones. It’s a privacy thing.
Yesterday, a colleague of mine, found he could only reach my voicemail so called My Artist’s phone to reach me. I was nowhere near my artist. I was enraged and my colleague could not understand it.
Surely I cannot be the only person that feels like this? My mobile is the way to reach me. I don’t use landlines and my cell number is available for all the world, really. But I can choose who I do and do not want to speak to. I can let people leave a message. I can choose not to answer if I am doing something that is more important than a call.
When people start stalking me with other numbers… I hate that. It actually tips me right over the edge.
I told my colleague this morning, that he had no clue where I was or what I was doing. I told him I could have been having a quick shag with someone else and there he is trying to reach me for business purposes through my boyfriend. Uncool. He still doesn’t understand.
Under the boots
Today’s Boots
For all you boot fetishists out there…
Keep up the good work. Chicks with a passion for boots require an adoring fan base.
I cheat and kill….
I need to tell you something I have not yet shared. You know about my booze problem, sex (or lack of it), relationship stuff, work stuff, kid stuff- sheesh you guys probably know more about me than I do about myself. Yet, here is a deep dark secret:
I love games and I cheat at them.
Not card games and stuff. PC games. I am currently thoroughly addicted to Purple Dot’s Sims 2 game. Before that was Warcraft, Starcraft, Caesar (I can always play those old city simulation games) the list is pretty long. I cheat. I get online and I google a cheat for money, each and every time. What does this say about me?
Not good things I suspect.
The crappest is when I have a game like Age of Empires and find the cheats, to discover I can have flying rainbow hippos that annihilate everything. Then I lose all interest. It is just the money I want. Loads of it.
I do play console games but only if in a pinch. We have an Xbox 360 and every game available, but they just can’t get RPG and adventure games right. Those games suck. You can’t cheat. Then I get all excited because something like Ninety-Nine Nights comes out and it looks so damn sexy. Then I get it in the machine and the monsters are so lame ass you want to scream. I hear Halo 3 will be cool, but I am reserving an opinion here.
Artist gave me the ‘I don’t play games’ talk. Well, we got that Xbox and it was like I was widowed for three weeks. Some racing game. Dinner chat:
Artist: ‘I bought a Ferrari today-’
KC: ‘That’s nice.’
Anyway, back to these pesky Sims- This is the reason I am not online at night much. I am Simulating. I wish I could watch them fuck though, instead of this sad fireworks and toes thing I see in the hottub when they get it on. They are essentially Sim Trust Fund Babies cos I found the money cheat. So all they do is laze about, fuck and play computer games. The female one, I am sure, is having an internet affair cos she loves that email, man!
I have killed a few too. Make them shower and immediately change lightbulbs- *bzzzt*. The best is building them into a fenced garden area and watching them die. Eeek more psychosis than I thought there. Then they haunt your house-.
It’s an old game, but they keep making new builds. Can’t wait for the pet one. I will torture some dogs and see if they get tombstones and ghosts.
I wonder, if I build two into a little fenced off area with no food, will they eat eachother? Sim cannibals? Hmmm….
My Sims are calling-.
Tot siens.
Holy Mass and eyebrow crabs
Mass is a biohazard. I don’t do the blood of Christ, cos actually, it is booze. Transubstantiation is all well and good, but I ain’t putting alcohol in my body. Then there is the germ factor. I understand that it is alcohol and therefore the germs from hundreds of people will be killed, but hang on- didn’t they say it becomes blood? Baffling huh? The body, well, let’s just say I hope to God the priest washes his hands before touching the bits of Christ that stick to the roof of my mouth for about 40 minutes. Fecal matter on my body of Jesus is not too cool a thought- What currently has me worried is the Holy Water, however.
Picture it, we are all there to confess sin. Sin frequently involves the use of hands. Most common sin? Probably wanking. Come on, most of us are guilty of that. Or sex. Did you know that something like 60% of people don’t wash their hands after peeing? If that’s the case, how many people don’t wash after a quick jerk-off? Disturbing huh? My head does this thing where I can picture tenacious vaginal fluids or semen, being comingled with the holy water on the way in to Mass. We Catholics do the holy water as we go in and go out. What if I get herpes on my forehead, shoulders or chest? Can you get eyebrow crabs?
Or does the fact that it is all blessed stuff mean it is entirely germ free and harmless?
More importantly, why did God give me a brain that works like this?
Larissa
There are some of you who won’t see me quite the same way again after this blog. And to you, I say: ‘I don’t give a damn.’ Or something ruder. You are not the kind of folk I have ever wanted to be around. Anyway, this is a gentle piece, maybe, about the first girl I ever fell in love with. Her name was Larissa and she was perfect.
Obviously, because I am not a lesbian, it did not last for long. I think about three months. Added to that she was the most glorious woman and I don’t know how to handle beautiful women. She had cappuccino coloured skin and the longest legs- man, they went on forever. Her walk was the lushest thing- She did this little scrunching-toes-twist. It was not contrived, it was like she danced with every step.
I was seventeen, Lari was about 19. I adored her. We met at a nightclub in Harare and I just, well, fell in love. The first time we kissed I thought I was going to pass out. I was hopelessly crap in bed. She was so beautiful and I felt so clumsy. Little wonder she dumped me for a black Englishman with a big cock and a passport out of Zim. Larri looked a little like Grace Jones, but softer and she was meant for bigger things. It took me about six weeks to get over it.
We clubbed together and kissed and held hands on the dance floor. She really was a good dancer and we are talking about the late 80s when most people did some sort of zombie-shuffle. My friends were wonderful about it. So were my folks. ‘Just another phase.’
Me? I was convinced this was IT. Hahaha I was seventeen! Still, 20 years later I can still see her walking towards my car with the wind blowing her skirt, those flat shoes she always wore dancing along.
I was one of those odd kids- you know- all my friends were strange in some way or other. Gays, lesbians, other colours, journalists, photographers. Never normal. Never main-stream. I am deeply grateful to my parents for never teaching me prejudice. This has meant I have never once judged a person based on anything other than how they treat me or interact with me.
Sex and infidelity: A theory
I have a theory about sex. I could be wrong, but it occurred to me yesterday, so I am testing the waters here. Basically, sex is the reason most people are unfaithful. This may not apply so much to women who are more likely to cheat because they are not getting what they need emotionally- blah blah.
Anyway, here is the theory: Most (not all) people have some fairly interesting places they go in their sexual fantasies. Generally, most of us want to act out on those fantasies to one extent or another. An example: A gay friend of mine, who is a total slut, picked up a guy. This guy was drunk but his fantasy was to take a dump on my friend- That is what did it for him sexually. It did not do it for my friend so he left the building quickly. Another example might be the person who wants to dominant or submissive, or sadistic or masochistic. Maybe it’s a threesome, or anal sex or whatever we have absorbed from porn or romance novels. Many of us don’t actually act out on these, but they loiter in our minds.
And this is where there can be a problem. In an intimate (as opposed to intense) relationship, once the initial extreme lust has died, we care too much about the person to act out. We start making love instead of just fucking. We have a three-dimensional person in our life as opposed to a sex-object. It’s all wonderful. We love and respect the other person. We lose interest in the kinky sex with that person. Nobody who loves and respects someone actually wants to crap on them, share them with another, tie them up and beat them etc.
But those sex fantasies still remain. I think this is where men can do the ‘I love you, but she was just sex’ thing. Women tend not to see this as a reasonable perspective, although I do know some who do. I am not saying that men cheat because their girlfriend/wife won’t do certain things. I suggest the men don’t want to do that with the person they love. The same is true for some women.
I am not sure if this makes sense. But it was a train of thought that I thought I would jot down.
What happens when you actually enjoy your sins?
My first confession is going to be a corker. Maybe the Catholics will change their minds about baptizing and confirming me on Saturday night. ‘Sorry, Ms Chasu, but we just can’t have your sort-’
At catechism last night we all got handed these leaflets which are how to evaluate and categorise one’s sin for the purposes of confession. I am not new to this concept and believe it is spiritually sound. Step Five in Alcoholics Anonymous goes: ‘Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.’
It worked, I don’t feel burdened by the drunk K Chasu’s actions, words or inactions. They are done and dusted. I have been sober for four years and leading, comparatively speaking, a clean life.
Anyway, back to the leaflet. There are some minor infringements to do with charity, mercy etc that I need to confess. Imprudent with money um, ya. But the real stumbling block is Purity.
Do I have impure thoughts and take part in impure conversations? Well, ya. And I kind of like it.
Do I take pleasure in porn? Sometimes- I particularly like manga and erotic fiction. I can stop that though.
Do I ever commit impure actions alone? Yes, I frequently masturbate. Do I intend to stop? NO. I like masturbating. Not to an unhealthy extent- but what the hell is wrong with the occasional fiddling with myself or my battery operated boyfriend? Do filthy text messages with someone other than the person I live with count? Apparently so, he specifically mentioned electronic communication and the Internet as sinful if used incorrectly. Bugger!
Do I use others for my own personal pleasure? Um is this not what sex is about? No, I suppose not. But what he means is do I get physical pleasure from anything other than straightforward baby-making sex. YES! Big brownie points are scored in K Chasu’s world by a man enthusiastically going down on me.
Am I faithful to my husband? What husband? I live in sin. And see earlier point about filthy sms. Is it a sin to commit sms-adultery when I am not in fact married or is this all some nasty ball of sin that I am hell-bound for?
Have I been responsible for an abortion? Tricky line this. Catholics believe the contraceptive pill, condoms, etc are all abortive. If I am not on the pill, then I am only doing oral sex- see my point above. Oral sex is a sin. So is anal, or fingers.. ok. I am not going there this morning.
So, as you can see, this is very shaky ground. And I am supposed to confess before they confirm me etc. Maybe I can just lump it together under “umbrella sins”:
‘In the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, amen. Bless me father for I have sinned.’
Priest blesses me.
‘This is my first confession. These are my sins: All of the seven deadlies- about 75% of the Ten commandments. That covers it.’
*sigh*
Should be good for about four hundred Our Fathers, Hail Marys and Glory Bes.
But the problem with confession is that it requires true penance and resolve to go forth and sin no more. Bloody hell. I am in more trouble than I thought.
