Saturday, 3 March 2012

ARMPIT SEX AND OTHER SECRETS

Once upon a time, my mother told me never to wash my dirty linen in public.  

Luckily, my laundry has almost always been a private affair. These days, I am blessed with a new-fangled labour-saving device called a washing machine, which means that my smalls (which, naturally, reek of fornication and menstruation and other vile secretions) never have to make the journey to the village watercourse.

Of course, there is the possibility that my mother was using A Metaphor. In my childhood home, metaphors were powerful tools, used for moulding our young impressionable minds into dark abnormal shapes. Take this one:

ME: What’s the big deal with pre-marital sex?
MY MOTHER: You wouldn’t go to a greengrocer’s and take a bite from an apple before paying for it, would you? 

Now I’m the first to admit that sex is a fruity business. But not that fruity.

But anyway, if the advice about the dirty linen was a metaphor, I am about to disappoint mother (once again). You see, a month ago, I was tagged by one of my favourite bloggers, Adventures of a Middle Aged Matron, to write a blog for a meme called 7 + 7, which requires me to divulge seven secrets, as well as seven blog posts I admire. 

So here goes: 
1.     
  1. I once stole mascara from Boots. In my defence, it was a lash-thickening electric-blue affair that promised to make me look like Ziggy Stardust. Instead, it made each eye look like a mandrill’s asshole.
  2.  I was once involved in a relationship with a Trainee Apostle at a Pentecostal church, which consisted of bouts of vigorous ARMPIT SEX. Armpit sex was so off God’s sexual radar that it hardly qualified as sex at all, or so I was told. Also, being entirely non-penetrative, it didn’t intrude on The Holy Spirit, who lived inside my body, in a temple-thingy, and who didn’t like getting a whole load of penis in his face when he was simply trying to go about his daily business.  I have since discovered that the nasty old World Wide Web has whole pages devoted to Axillary Intercourse, or, as aficionados of coarse sexual terminology like to call it, ‘pit-wanking’, which I’m glad I didn’t know. Because, you know, if I had, I wouldn’t have felt quite so special.     
  3. I love snails. I love their coiled shells. I love the shy way they retract their antennae if you touch them. In a world that’s getting faster and crazier and more in-your-face by the day, I love their fat juicy slowness.
  4. I don’t get the fuss about tigers. I quite like The Tiger Who Came To Tea - although his table manners are truly shocking - and I really like Tigger, mostly because he mispronounces words, and does a stupid amount of bouncing, both of which remind my of my son, but if any REAL tiger comes anywhere near me or my family, I will shoot its stripy furry endangered ass dead
  5.  I want a tattoo. When I was younger, I thought about getting the words Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit tattoed across my lower back, but then Angelina Jolie went and got it, and I didn’t want people going up to her, poor cow, and saying “You so copied that Flossing the Cat,  didn’t you?”  
  6. I don’t know how to operate an unattended/automatic car wash. I will never know how to operate an unattended/automatic car wash, same as I will never know how to play any card games (except Snap and Happy Families), or be able to drive on the motorway. What kind of over-achieving fucker knows how to operate an unattended/automatic car wash anyway? (I’m not obsessed, it’s just that I was confronted with one of these monstrosities in a petrol station forecourt last Tuesday, and the pain of it is still fresh and raw.) As you can imagine.
  7. I’m not telling you my seventh secret, except that it involves an accountant in a bad wig, a butch haulier from Carmarthenshire, in a tutu, and an episode of weeping not seen since the days of the prophet Jeremiah. I’m saving the details of it for another one of these infernal memes!   

And now for the blog posts I admire, all for different reasons:

A Beginner’s Guide to Middle Age – Adventures of a Middle Aged Matron
The Eagle Has Landed – Motherventing
Dear Beloved Friend - Older Mum (in a Muddle)
Newspapers, Poospapers – Maid in Yorkshire
Signing A Life Away – Stay At Home Dad 

10 comments:

  1. Last time, I peed a little when I read your last post. This time I spat ACTUAL spit at my computer screen from laughing so hard.

    This blog is not proving conducive to keeping my bodily fluids/secretions where they're suppose to be.

    Next post will be read whilst wearing adult nappies and a muzzle.

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  2. Thanks Lily. I will carry that last image with me everywhere.

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  3. HahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA armpit sex hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha snort. I don't need to say any more do I?

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  4. I don't understand why during twelve years of marriage to the Church of England I haven't come across armpit sex. You accomplished your challenge with your usual aplomb. Makes me want to meme you all over again!

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  5. I think it might be a religious practice carried out exclusively by trainee apostles at the Pentecostal Church. It doesn't sound very CofE. x

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  6. Armpit sex - were your armpits shaved? Or did he like the kinky bristly thing going on! I too am useless at card games - snap and shithead - thats my lot. Ah ... and thankyou for liking that blog post so much .... humbled and gracious! I have a stack of memes piled up - will throw some your way!

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  7. Just to be a smart ass, unattended/automatic car wash are easy to use, really.

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  8. Older Mum - what is this card game shithead of which you speak? I would love to add this game to my repertoire. it sound sophisticated.

    Always a Redhead - smartsass!

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  9. oh god I thought I'd heard it all but armpit sex...that takes the biscuit...that takes the whole roll on deoderant.....did he ever ask..."Did you come yet?" after he had ah, taken your pits. Rolling on floor....lol

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  10. Hi Emma .... I'm sure that REAL aficionados of armpit sex, AS OPPOSED TO ME!!!, have a whole repertoire of different armpit-sex styles that they could draw on - with/without stubble, full-on Julia Roberts, sweaty or dry, nicked or blemish-free etc .... Not that I've given it much thought you understand ...

    PS My partner calls me a bottomless 'pit' of need. But he doesn't mean THAT. Honestly.

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