Size can matter

October 27, 2009 at 8:38 pm (2009, Fun and Games)

Argh its official my boss is an A class asshole, the past five days have been a high string of emotions that makes me wish I didn’t have a vagina. Friday was supposed to be my happy day, bonus day which leads to shopping day. I used to not be much of a shopper until London, shopping in London is my happy place.  Bonus day arrived with a giant fat “fuck you” attached to it, one giant slap through the face that made me want to quit on the spot. No more unpaid overtime for you buddy.  Called a meeting, ranted and raved and finally burst into tears . It takes alot for me to get emotional but I was positively shaking with rage. I have another meeting this week, I’m prepared, its all very well thought out and the storm that is raging within me will finally be released.  I will remain calm and proffessional but will beat those damn bastards down, they will not win. (I still went shopping though, why they give me accounts is beyond me, so sneaky)

Shew the vent was good. Oooh I have topic ha ha, let us head that way.

Obsession for men

As with all topics they have always have some story behind it,  even the stripper post has a story behind it. Alot of girls will say that size doesnt matter but is it so does, unless you are a virgin when you get married and have never seen a penis in your life, size does matter. The poor virgin chick is going to keep on wondering why she doesnt feel anything for the rest of that marriage, yes, I know, I am terrible.

One night we were out in Hout Bay, Thursday night madness at Kronendals, cheap beer and lots of flirtations. Lets think, this was about maybe 7 years ago, with usual crew which of course includes Angie and Vic. A hot summers night, with lots of beer being consumed, I was definitely pulling a few moves on some really hot Hout Bay Boys, okay maybe one in particular but damn he was fine.  Told designated driver that I was staying at Hout Bay Boys place, she gave me the Angie look but said fine anyway. We went back to his place and it started getting heated, hand headed for trousers and then….Shock! Horror! Hot Hout Bay Boy had a very tiny dingle dongle down below. I actually sat up, I didnt know what to say, “ummm, ahhhh ja, hey, I dont think this going work” , in my head I was thinking, did I just say that, fuck! “Umm, ja, hey, I think I better go.” Raced out of there and phoned Angie (thank God for cellphones). She fetched me and we got out of there very fast.

Yes, I sound like a complete bitch when I tell this story and yes some poor bastards out there have serious issues about their penis’, BMW drivers in particular but unfortunately its the truth. Sometimes, yes sometimes, it can be down to the motion of the ocean but like the ocean you have to have something to work with in order to create that tidal wave.

Different strokes for different folks.

But in that same breath, I had a very good guy friend (no, not a shag buddy) we used to hang out in Claremont all the time, we got hammered the one night, went back to the folks place to chill and drink more, when  he decided that now was the time to show me his penis, he had been going on about his giant cock for ages and how proud he was of it, who was I to put the poor guy down, it was like a game of I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. So I said “Ja, sure lets check it.” This thing was huge, a frigging anaconda, I was scared of it. He laughed at the shocked look on my face. All I could think was how does that damn thing fit. He ripped me off for a looong time, “Hollys scared of my penis”. And to be quite honest, I really was.

There are always two sides to every story but yes, size, definitely, does matter.



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Strip Clubs hmmm

October 20, 2009 at 4:41 pm (Fun and Games)


Today there were some serious debates going down after reading Vic’s post. I posted the question to my panel of experts aka my colleagues “is it okay for your boyfriend to visit a strip club?” Since all of them are attached I was interested to hear what they had to say on the subject and only one of them had a serious problem with it. Short shit was even saying she would even go with (so would I). The issue here I think is trust, most of them said they would only get mad if their significant other didnt tell them about it and I agree with that sentiment, if they lie about going to a strip club, what else are they lying about?

The other side of the panel, Vic and Admin say they cant handle the thought of them coming home and comparing them to some stripper while shagging. Fantasies are fantasies, they arent you, the person that they love. And 9 out of 10 guys are still wanking off and watching porn while dating or married to you so whats the difference? I can bet you R 500 they arent thinking of you while wanking off to Paris Hiltons latest porn offering. I have always been taught by my Mother that boys will be boys and you have let me be just that, it has nothing to do with you and doesnt change how they feel about you. Yes it does make men sound like perverted little things but really think about it, woman shag with emotion and guys shag for pleasure. While you are fantasising and playing with yourself you are thinking about the person that you like and well men, they are thinking about tits and tush.  Strip clubs are a fantasy, an over priced fantasy with no touching but a fantasy all the same.

I however love strip clubs, there is something so incredibly sexual about being surrounded by beautiful naked woman.  The heat, the music and being there with someone that you care about and not knowing whether or not you will quite make it home before you rip each others clothes off.



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Boyfriends vs Strip Clubs

October 19, 2009 at 8:15 pm (2009)

It’s an age old issue, and one that every woman has her own views on… how comfortable do you feel with your boyfriend going to a strip club?

I know women (my dear friend Holly included) who think that strip clubs can be fun, that there is nothing dodge about them at all and that it’s about inhibitions and such. That’s all very well, and perhaps I would go to one with friends for a laugh. When your man goes there with his friends however, and they enjoy a dance or two… it’s a bit of a different story.

My man is going to Mavericks on Thursday, as part of a boys night for a friend’s birthday. He used to be quite a fan of Mavericks, but in the months we’ve been dating, this is the first time he is going. I’m not sure how I feel to be honest. I was invited to come along, but with a hectic deadline looming ahead and not all that much interest in watching nekkid women wave their bits in my face I politely declined. It’s not quite a jealousy thing, and I’m a huge fan of Ladies Night… but somehow that’s always a bit different. Not only is it more about giggles and free shots, but it’s also not as dingy somehow. I always feel a tad grossed out by strip clubs, and the thought of my man being there is a bit of a turn-off.

Anyway, this is also a bit of a test, and my reaction is being closely monitored. Not-so-subtle hints about other girlfriends daring to voice their feelings or god forbid trying to prevent their men from going have all been dropped, and I’m not about to make a fuss over something like this – even if I really don’t get it at all. It’s one thing if the guy is single, another thing when he’s not. Fact.

Oh well, girl’s night at the end of the month… perhaps that means it’s fine to perve hot tourist boys?


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Sexual Healing?

October 15, 2009 at 6:41 pm (2009, Let's Talk About Sex Baby)

It’s funny. When you’re single and you don’t get laid in a while, it sucks – but never quite as much as it sucks when you’re in a relationship and you aren’t getting any. Sex when things aren’t going well isn’t always great, but at the same time it helps you connect… and helps sooth things somehow. Getting lost in the closeness, tears forgotten, arguments dissolved.

And sex after making up? Well, that is something in a league of its own. 🙂

So sexual healing… that’s what I am in need of right now.

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Daisies, Daisies, Daisies…

October 13, 2009 at 8:07 pm (2009)

So it was Rocking the Daisies this past weekend can you tell? The day started off fresh enough, I was like a child before Christmas waking up at 6am with excited butterflys going off in my tummy.  Let me tell you why. RTD is the one time of the year that I just let all hell break loose and I sure did it good and proper this year. Booze galore, spliff galore and damn good friends. Friday I was practically comatose. It started off innocent enough, in other words I was still clean, put our tent up which ended up not being ours and ended causing the first bit of shit for weekend. Beer in hand we pranced through the “Daisies” and sticks, evil fucking sticks that cut my foot open to the main area,  we pranced around checked a few people organised a few “things” and pranced around some more. I have to say it was wicked this year, they totally upped their game, mucho toilets – always a bonus, and the food court was like walking down Kloof street.

We then went back to the tents for some more beers and this is where it kinda gets a little bit hazy. Yes children, someone was passing around the damn devils lettuce, argh and dont forget the shooters. A nap was in order, the nap was shortlived, it was time for some bands. I dont remember the bands. I do however remember the food court and pizza. I do remember running into the Guru but not quite being on the same page somewhere along the line the word “whatever” was used, I think I may have sounded like a bit of a bitch, I remember the expressions on peoples faces and then I remember wondering into the VIP Tent. Oooh the haze is bad. I saw people I knew, I hooked up my VIP armband. Saw the friendies again somewhere along this line. I did ask for All Access, this I remember and also asking what profit they make on Daisies,  eek wrong question? Flirted with a boy, I think I had the dreaded future conversation with him, I think I scared him. I also started crying, something about boys but we wont go into that. I think this is where I decided to go to bed Goldfish booming in the backround. Apparently I walked in the completely wrong direction. I do however remember walking past my tent twice before finding it. Sleep was my saving grace that night.


Oooh Saturday started off shakey, I was not a well puppy, it was damn hot and my body was crying out for liquids. Muis saved me with some coca cola, I forced down a muffin, worst fucking muffin I have ever had, why cant they make food that you can put into your stomach without have to chew, so you fill up and are able to continue with your day hangoverless?? We went back to the main area, chilled under an umbrella with the green ambulance being sucked down by one x me. Fuck me, I have never been offered so many drugs in all my life, people were chowing mushrooms like they were chips,  I’m not that interested in that shit to be quite honest. Sitting in the shade saved me, the start of my love affair with Foundry for the weekend, saved me, hair of the dog you say? You would be very correct. Wondered back to VIP where a very embarresed me apologised alot.  Then I got offered MDMA, I said no, alcohol is my friend, then my new friendy told me I was the most amazing person she had ever met and started playing with my hair. Chilled by the lake, smoked a baby spleef and chilled in the sun, I have an awesome sunglasses tan. Went back to the tent for a power nap – it was awesome and got me prepared for what was to come.

We went back to the VIP tent (I really love that word V.I.P) chilled and I apologised some more. And then all the awesome bands started. It took me to a whole new level of happiness, I was having flashback after flashback as each band came out. The memories that those songs brought back, Just Jinger but especially Prime Circle. Dont you love how music can take you back to a time and place so that you are almost tasting that moment while enjoying the music in the present? I kept it sort of tidy on Saturday, we laughed our asses off in the Comedy tent, those boys rocked the party. Rob Van Vuuren had me in stitches with his poetic rendition of Ushers Love in this Club. I was nearly rolling in the straw. And it was good to meet up with some of the old crowd who I havent seen in ages. Went back to the V Tent and met up with boy who I discussed my future with the previous night, we smooched, it was cold, I wanted a jersey so we went to his tent. He tried, I said no, there is just something not quite kosher about getting naked when you are covered in Daisie Dust (a much better word than dirt). I spilt my drink in his tent eek, he went to sleep, I said fuck this for a laugh and re-joined the party. Met up with my comedy boys back at the V Tent and had such a good laugh before resigning myself to the fact that the night was actually over, sniff, and that it was time for bed at 2:30am.

Sunday there were a few shit fits about the tent,  I am so chilled, I hate arguments, I just handed it over (found out later that it was in fact, not my tent, thanks Carnage). Watched another cool band and then found ourselves back in the comedy tent preparing to laugh again instead to be completely blown away by this group called D7 who rocked the party with all sorts of tunes from chilled classics to Goldfish and all they had were themselves. I couldnt take the party after this, I was completely bushwhacked and I found myself saying, “I think its time to go home, guys”.  I walked through the doors of my humble abode, cut those precious VIP tags off my arm and watched the last bit of Daisy Dust swirl down the drain.

Another year, another Daisies, shew, the affects still linger but next year I am definitely going back for more.


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