Facing Fear

Phobia. The irrational fear of something. Now i have never claimed to be a wholly rational person, often it can be claimed that i am not even remotely rational and i am fine with that since to me my irrationality is perfectly normal and understandable and just who i am. A result of Leah logic if you like. That said I do not have any irrational fears of the usual kind. Spiders, heights, enclosed spaces, wide open spaces, the dark, germs and bunny rabbits. None of these regular and even popular phobias effect me in any way, in fact i quite like all of the above things.

I do have an irrational hate. I am not afraid of them but they do make me shiver and gag in revulsion and I'd rather be in a pit of scorpions than be on the receiving end of someone who likes the damned things. Yes, feet. I can't stand the ugly things. I absolutely hate feet and especially anything to do with them sexually. I don't care how perfect a guy may be if he starts paying attention to my feet then i will run away and never look back. Urgh. *shudders involuntarily at the image*. I think that is why i have such a fondness for shoes. They cover your feet. They make them pretty. Yes, i do love shoes.

However Wednesday night i was reminded of my phobia. The phobia i had long repressed and that not many people knew i even had. My totally irrational, clinically recognised phobia. Wednesday night was Dean's birthday (happy birthday Dean darling) and to celebrate there was a little shin-dig at The Laundry on Johnston St. This was all fine. I got dressed up, i went to The Laundry and i had a few laughs with friends. Then we went upstairs to partake in Karaoke.

That's right, Karaoke. That's when things got hard for me.

If Karaoke is ever mentioned or suggested to me i will intantly reply that i don't like Karaoke. Captain Subtext would very easily be able to tell you that what i'm really saying is that i go cold and clammy all over at the mere thought of watching Karaoke, that i'm absolutely terrified of participating in the activity and that if anyone i know participates i have to leave the room before i have a seizure. Captain Subtext would tell you that by "don't like" i actually mean "acute phobia of".

So there i was on Wednesday night having to face my fear. I couldn't get incredibly druk because i was driving and i didn't want to make a scene because it wasn't my party (if anyone had a right to make a scene it was Dean, his party, his scene). So i decided to suck it up and try to deal. I actually did alright. I think. Except people seemed to notice that i wasn't dealing as well as everyone else. Especially when someone suggested i sing, or demanded i sing and i completely shut down and bluntly refused. I even tried to watch instead of hiding up the back and trying to drown out the singing by talking. Dean went first and since the firs 1min 57seconds was instrumental i was fine and quite enjoyed Dean's dancing. But when he started to sing i had to leave. It only got worse. No one could actually sing, or even tried to actually sing and when Karina, Maya and Seb got up and did "Like a Virgin" by Madonna i was so mortified with embarrassment for them and horrified at having to witness it that i almost stopped breathing.

I just want to make it clear: I was not forced or tricked into going to Dean's thing at The Laundry and i knew they were planning to do Karaoke. I went of my own will. I think i thought i should be ok, that it wouldn't be that bad and that it had been so long since i'd been anywhere near Karaoke (the last time that i remember was when i was 12) that maybe i was just overreacting. I was wrong. And i apologise to those who got concerned, and for leaving early (at about 11.30 i couldn't take any more) and i thank both Maya for looking after me and Dean for letting me not sing.

This is why the movie i absolutely cannot watch is "Duets" and not some horror flick, movie horror is fine, true horror is watching someone totally humiliate themselves as they butcher a song infront of a live audience.

Pleasantly Rediscovering When My Toes Go Numb

As you would probably know by now i have not been in a relationship with a guy for long enough now that it's becoming a bit of an issue of mine. What you may or may not have known is that I've cut off my casuals as well. From February i went into what can be more pleasantly termed a guy detox. Less pleasantly it can be said i got fed up with the lot of them and threw in the towel and went cold turkey. This has turned out to be a lot harder than i anticipated. Also i didn't expect it to last so long. This is in fact the longest I've gone without sex since, well since i started having sex back in my VCE days.

On Thursday night i had a girls night with Miss M and Miss C which included a long-talked about visit to Sexyland. We spent a good two and a half hours in the store. We tried on sexy lingerie and costumes, we browsed the dvd collection - Miss M. with a purpose, a certain title had been recommended to her - and we whipped each other with the various riding crops and whips. Then there were the discussions about different types of lube (silicon vs waterbased, Swiss Pluss vs Ansel) the disbelief as we saw the sizes and shapes of various toys and the comparison between different vibrators. No wonder we were there for as long as we were and we had a blast! It was like Christmas and our birthdays rolled into one! So now we are all card-holding members to Sexyland and we all left with a purchase, or two. My purchase was by far the most extravagant - after all i need little encouragement to impulse buy and i was getting quite a lot from the other two so it's a given that i bought the toy.

Yes i did. And it's so pretty to look at and we pushed all the buttons and there was a collective giggle and "ooohhhh" from the three of us as all it's functions were demonstrated. Yes folks i got myself a Rabbit. That's right, the Rabbit. And i do not for one moment regret the purchase. Not then, and definitely not now. In fact I'm not sure who was more excited that i got it, me or Miss M. However after owning it for the past 4 days, 22 hours and 17 minutes i can confidently say that i am much more pleased with it than Miss M. On the very first night it reminded me of the intense and utterly pleasant sensation i feel at a certain... moment and my toes go numb. Very few 'real' men have been able to get me to that stage with such finesse and, well shall we say map-reading by my self. Even fewer have accomplished to the level that causes me to tingle right down to my feet and not feel my toes for a whole minute. And it wasn't just a once off. I confess i have shared my bed with my versatile new friend every night since and am now starting to think that my toes will suffer from blood-loss.

Man-drought be damned I'm staying in tonight (and possibly every night to come) with my darling, multi-skilled Rabbit.

Dirty little txts

**Warning: The following contents of this post is generally explicit in language and imagery, and if not alludes to explicit and adult behaviour. If this in any way will offend you please do not read on.
For the rest of you: Enjoy!

After a rather interesting, and definately fun conversation in the library with the girls (namely Maya and Chox) at uni today i decided our subject needed a post dedicated to it. We were talking about dirty talk, more precisely dirty text messages and creating examples of these - both from personal experience and from our imaginations. I will now put up some of the fruits of our labour. This post is merely for your amusement but feel free to take said fruits and use them yourself, or add your own examples or what has worked for you or what you would like to work for you.

I can't wait to explore every inch of you with my tounge... inside and out.

I want you to slide your hard manhood into my gasping va-jay-jay.

The thought of your body initiates such a visceral response in my body that i can barely stop myself from losing control.

Dear (insert name here), i can't wait to tear all your clothes off with my teeth and feel your warm body pressed against mine.

I can't wait to put my hands on your body and feel your breath quicken and your skin shiver at my touch.

I love the feel of your warm breath on my neck and your hands on my body making my underware damp (alternative ending: making me wet and dripping with sauce).

I shiver at the memory of the warmth of your tounge between my legs last night.

Meet me in the toilets/storeroom/house in 15mins...

I keep fantasising about how i'm going to slam you against a wall and penetrate your body over nad over until i unleash a spunk storm all over your body.

And to end on a classic:

Hey Boxy, let's get wet 'n' shit. I wanna suck you down like a muthafucka. My knob is priming for some A grade box.

Thankyou.
Kisses, L.

Damsel in Distress

Today a middle-aged, overweight, hairy man with strange skin and a seriously cringe worthy plumbers crack told me, and i quote "so you're the damsel in distress, guess that makes me your knight in shinning armour".

My first impulse in response to this comment was to run screaming down the hill. My first desire was to both rip out all my hair and simultaneously hurl the nearby spanners at my verbal assailant. My first thought was one of despair along the lines of "i cannot have sunk this low".

My secondary reactions were more rationally controlled. My feminist side (thanks to my upbringing no doubt) was insulted that i appeared to be not only a distressed damsel but one that actually required some silly knight in shinning armour (I've always thought that was silly, if the armour is shiny chances are the knight hasn't required if very much or had any real action to test it's workmanship). I resisted my primary urges, crossed my arms, stood straight and tall and smiled grimly at the offencive man. "Thank you for coming." Was all i said in response to his words, I at least was polite.

Let me explain how this came about.

This morning my car wouldn't start. Distressing sure but not unsolvable. Unable to get myself to the station to get in to work i called a neighbour and got a lift, deciding I'd sort the car out when i got home, or even tomorrow morning. When i got home this evening i realised not only were there overdue videos to go back but also that there was nothing in the house to eat for dinner - and i need my dinner. So sighing in resignation i got dressed (I'd already showered and put on my pj's) in my work clothes, grabbed the torch, keys and tools I'd need from the shed and went up to the damned car. I knew it was most likely the battery - car doesn't start, generally a good place to start. So i started by hooking it up to the other car and jump starting it. This did not work. Getting concerned i took the battery out (not easy in a saab, damned things are in a tight spot and lots of unnatural bending of the arm is required to unscrew it) and hooked it up to the charger. Noticing it wouldn't charge properly i had a brain wave and put the battery from the other saab into the auto, thinking something was wrong with the battery itself, not the car. Unfortunately, 20mins later, i realised this wouldn't work either and i resigned myself to the fact that something was wrong with the car and i would have to call RACV.

Enter my "knight in shinning armour".

He did not arrive with his yellow RACV steed until 9.00pm, by which time i was starving and had actually eaten dry cereal (no milk left), a whole jar of sultanas and the slightly fuzzy last two oranges. I did not feel like a damsel wanting to be rescued, i felt hungry, fed up and shitty with how long it had taken him to get here. I did not look like a damsel wanting to meet her knight in shining armour. I was wearing hard yakka overalls with my dad's Swedish ugg boots, my hair stuffed into a beanie and grease and dirt all over my hands, clothes and possibly my face. I was mentally prepared for the treatment i next got after his opening comment and once over glance however it still irritated me as he condescendingly asked me if I'd checked the car was in park before trying the ignition, if the oil and water were ok, if I'd had someone - maybe one of my manly neighbours - come over and try to jump start it and i rolled my eyes at his surprise that i had checked and tried all these things. Then he proceeded to ignore me as i told him that it wasn't the battery and how i knew that and insisted on putting in a new battery himself - cos obviously a girl wouldn't know what she was talking about. When this didn't work he seemed surprised.

At this stage i went back down to the house and made myself a cup of tea. I did not offer one to my patronising misogynistic knight. When I'd finished my tea i went back up and found him fiddling with the starter motor. 40 minutes later the car was working. I'm not sure why, and i don't think the RACV guy is either but i didn't care. Politely i thanked him, got in and headed down to monbulk to get food from Safeway.

I just want to make one thing very clear. I am not a damsel in distress. Now i have calmed down, and eaten properly, i can see that he was just being who he is and i over-reacted but it still annoys me that these presumptions are made about me. I wasn't even wearing any of my usual shoes or clothes that may give the impression of a damsel, distressed or otherwise. If, or when, i decide to be a distressed damsel in want of a knight in (shinning) armour to rescue me i will damned well say so. And needless to say i will be sure to be dressed appropriately.

Drama Queen

I'm a drama queen. I know this and i admit it freely; nay proudly. I come from a long line of drama queens in fact, it's an integral part of my heritage (refer to 'about me'). My mama is a drama queen, my auntie is a drama queen, my grandma is definitely a drama queen and my little sister is THE drama queen. I must say i like a good bit of drama, it gives daily life more excitement and flavour. I grew up in a house full of drama and it was encouraged and considered a healthy way of expressing and understanding our own and each other's emotions.

But now there's no-one in my house but me to be dramatic and it's rather defeatist to be a drama queen without an audience to appreciate it. This hasn't stopped me in my dramatic expression, far from it - it just makes it rather hollow.

The other day i realised my work uniform was dirty because no one had done the washing. I promptly muttered about slackers and roughly manhandled the garments in question and the washing machine, slamming it's door shut and storming out of the laundry for extra dramatic effect but no one was there to notice and since I'm home alone it was really my fault that the washing hadn't been done and the outburst was therefore directed at myself.

Then last night i was doing the dishes and laughing as i washed a big knife impulsively covered my lower face in bubbled so i had a snowy beard and proceeded to act out the stabbing scene from psycho with the knife with Santa as the killer. Yet again there was no one to appreciate and laugh at this improper humour but myself (and i did, it was quite hilarious).

Only this morning, when i forced myself out of bed at 6.00am, i was alarmed at how cold it was and complained vehemently about it as i shuddered and shivered and hopped from foot to foot melodramatically then clutched at my mug of tea like a desperate housewife clutches her Valium, but no one cared i was freezing to death. To further this point i realised after getting out of the shower upstairs that the clothes i wanted to wear were downstairs in my room at the end of the house. So wet and naked and squealing with cold i made a mad dash down through the house, grabbed the clothes as i turned consistently bluer and dashed back upstairs where i quickly dived under the covers of the bed and huddled shivering. Just to make it clear how much i was suffering and how my delicate self was compromised by the experience i got dressed in bed so i could stay warm. Yet no one was there to witness my drama or tell me to get over it and what a princess i am.

My friends are my salvation. I at least know i can let loose with the drama around them and they'll react - even if it's to shake their head and tut at my folly (James) or laugh at the scenes i cause or the situations i manage to put myself in (Maya). That's all any drama queen desires: to be noticed and to cause a reaction. I like to think that in my won small way that i make a positive difference to the lives of those i touch with my exuberant and melodramatic flair by distracting them and giving joy. I do what i can.

How was that for drama?

Man Drought

So i'm in a drought. A man drought. A serious man drought. And i'm not really sure why, none of my friends seem to be in the same situation, even if they're single it's not for lack of guys as it seems to be with me. I don't even have a crush or a friendly flirt let alone anyone i could actually see myself dating, or sleeping with. So i was thinking about this on the train on the way home yesterday and i thought well maybe i'm just walking around shut-down. Maybe there are plenty of guys for me to meet, who want to meet me who i'm just not seeing because i'm so caught up in me.

As i was thinking this i noticed a guy sitting across from me a few seats down. He was good looking in a quirky, i-got-dressed-in-the-dark-but-am-still-trendy way. And he was looking at me. With big, blue, unblinking eyes. Right at me. This in itself is unsual because everyone on the train always makes a point of not looking at each other with their ipods in, or mobile phones or books or papers to keep themselves to themselves, myself included. Yet here he was. So after catching his eye a few times as he continued to check me out i decided what the hell and i gave him a quick grin and a flirty wink. And he smiled back! So this time i held his eyes and smiled, just as we came into Box Hill station. As the train slowed he stood up and i held my breath, wondering if he'd make a move or ask for my number. Well he did make a move. He took out a collapsable white walking stick that blind people use, flicked it out so it was straight and guided himself off the train.

I was mortified! I am still so embarrassed about even thinking that he was flirting with me when he couldn't even see me, let alone flirting back. He wasn't staring at me, he was staring because he couldn't see! Immediately i glanced around to see if anyone else sitting on the train had noticed the little pantomime that was my humiliation for the week and with bright red cheeks i put in my ipod and stared out the window of the train, much too horrified to even risk catching anyone elses eye during the trip.

So i am in a man drought and considering my flirting technique, and the situations i always seem to find myself in it is likely to remain this way for quite some time.