Christian Grey And A 12 Inch Dildo….

I believe it has come to be that time of the month again.

The time has come and I welcome you to another month of continuous blogging and updates as a nursing student.  Which funnily enough can be found in the ever flowing pages posted on Stairway To Nurse’s Heaven.  Also, brings the continuing thought of, ‘what else can I write about?’

It is towards the end of the one month and the beginning of another, where I find myself forming ideas about what I feel like should be spoken of.  Not to mention, making phones calls, sending emails and various other forms of contact, asking people what has been happening in their life.  These thoughts often contain dreams and aspirations of what can and cannot be spoken of.  However, having said that though, I don’t think there is a subject that has limits because I can guarantee, I will sit down after making a cup of tea/coffee and type until my fingers tips resemble bleeding stumps.

Least to say, we needn’t fear about running out of subjects or discovering boundaries that would limit those than can be deemed and described as ‘touchy subjects’.

Personally I spend more times than what I normally spend on my pharmacology lecture notes, pondering over what readers would like to read.  This is where I believe the subject should be not only gut wrenching, powerful in its message but also open to truth.  Causing you as a reader to be left feeling as if you had had a role in whatever had just been spoken of and left feeling empowered, awed and wowed.  Overall, leaving me as the writing feeling accomplished at the end of the day.  Because in my case, it allows me to eat humble pie on a daily basis, keep it real and be in contact with what I can consider ‘the real world’ to be.

I believe as a writer and co-conspirator of my world and Stairway To Nurse’s Heaven, I need to keep it real by remembering a few important and necessary things.  These important details include remembering who I was originally and who I am now as a person.  How far my journey has been to this present point in time and how many stones/rocks I have unturned to get here.  This includes sitting down in front of a computer and spending close to three hours deciding what my blog name was going to be.

That was until Stairway To Heaven by Led Zeppelin came on and the idea hit me in the head.

Having just thought of the blog name, I realised in the early days two years ago, I was now going to have to write an introduction.  An introduction that not only addressed who I am/was as a person but also why I decided to wake up one morning and elect to go to university.

To have the hopes and dreams of wanting to become a nurse, a doctor down the track if time permitted it to happen and how I managed to somewhat stay sane with a crazy load of assignment and exams.  Not to mention, blogging on my hopes, dreams and aspirations of a crazed, sleep deprived and work driven nursing student.  While sticking to the agreement of writing at least twice a month and hopefully gaining a reader or two who didn’t consist of my mother, Lois.

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Lois and Thelma.

God bless her soul though for every new blog post, she reads it and sends me a message as to what her thoughts were.  Sometimes, Lois is shocked by what I have written about in the past because she never thought I would be carrying that around on my shoulders.  These past two years have allowed her to gain an insider look as to who I really am, outside of the ‘daughter’ and ‘sister’ boxes and essentially place me in my own category.  That category being labelled under the non-negotiable terms of: Daughter, Sister, Friend, Student, Woman and my personal favourite, successful.

Okay so sometimes I haven’t stuck up to my end of the bargain for writing at least twice a month.  However, there have been times where I have uploaded and kept you on the edge of your seat anywhere up to four times a month.  Essentially this makes up in the long run for the months I’ve updated once because of various reasons.  Such as illness, family, death, hospital trips to A&E and for Grey’s Anatomy leaving me and thus, causing me to become a weeping mess as my life is now over.  Not to mention my all-time favourite since I am a nursing student: assignments, exams and placement.

When I am not moping on the couch and acting as if my true love, Cristina, has deserted me for better pastures on Grey’s Anatomy…..wait a minute!  She has.  She’s ditched me for Switzerland and for Bourke’s position.  I rest my case.

Now when Meredith isn’t a pain in the arse and Karev isn’t being a pussy (what happened to arsehole Kaerv by the way?), I can either be found devouring the medical procedures being performed on the pigs (stunt doubles).  And informing Lois as to what is going to happen next.   Or I can be found tunning out the world in my bedroom with the door firmly closed and an imaginary ‘fuck off’ sign posted on it.  All the while, madly typing away and listening to whatever has taken my fancy.

These moments have led to some of my best ideas having been created and posted for you to read.

Unlike some bloggers, I happen to have favourites of blog posts that I have previously posted.  The reason why I know they are favourites is because they have been able to influence the way I not only carry myself but also as a nursing student.  As a result, I have stepped out of the category most people placed me in when we first met, particularly those that I went to high school with.  Because at the end of the day, year or decade, who knew that quiet little 17 year old would end up moving to Brisbane and getting into a university.  And openly discuss things that once upon a time, little virginal Scarlett would have blushed at.

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The subjects that I speak of are ones that have caused controversy, not only in my personal life but also my internet life.  It has led to debates breaking out, my code of ethics as a nursing student and also as a human being be questioned.  This is due to some circumstances and personal relationships ending due to my views upon certain things having been discussed.  At the beginning, I saw it as a major loss in my life having these people walk away.  But now when I reflect back, I see it as a good experience and they couldn’t handle the person I was slowly becoming.

Or it could have been the fact that I told them the truth to their face and they didn’t know how to deal with it.  This may or may not have been along the lines of, ‘remove your head from your arsehole and actually take a look at what the real world looks like’.

Safe to say, I may have been harsh at the point in time but I am sure they will be thanking me one day.

The subject that I can remember causing people to fling accusations, beliefs and at one stage, ‘the bible’ was mentioned would be the post about Euthanasia.  A once and still is touchy subject gracing nursing students and those around us on a daily basis; particularly when it comes time to take the pledge.

A pledge we shall know proves a duty of care that neither causes beneficence nor maleficence.  Euthanasia was briefly touched upon one tutorial in my Law course and I openly admitted that I am someone who agrees that patients with a life threatening condition should be offered a humanly death.   As I see it, if we can chose to put our animals that have provided love, warmth and have practiced us against those who have trespassed, out of misery; then why can’t we do it to ourselves?

Yes, I openly sit/lounge here this evening stating that there are legal and ethical obligations as well as moral consequences, but I want to know what the big deal is.   Okay so there is a person, a medical professional if you will, who is allowing you to ‘commit suicide‘ in a decent manner by a certain degree.  Would you prefer this option and die in a dignified way, knowing that you have completed your life having suffered a terminal and life ending disease.  Or would you prefer to take a shot gun and need I say more.

The reason why I am asking is because I am curious as to why certain countries that I have done research on, are allowing people to be euthanized but here in Australia, we don’t talk about it.  Well at least not publicly and we pretend that the subject doesn’t matter.  And if it is brought up, we tend to sweep it automatically under the rug.  I guess in a way, you can say I am not only curious but I am passionate about ‘no man’s land’ area.  I think it boils down to my preference of work history and also legal cases that have been shown on television.  Which have made me sit there and wonder, ‘why didn’t you just allow him/her to have the option of Euthanasia.’

I know of a particular case that has stuck in my head from a young age, where a man was dying from emphysema caused by asbestos.  He also was diagnosed with stage four cancer and had been essentially told he had matter of months to live due to the cancer having metalized.  He ended up going to court, I believe to the Supreme Court of Australia, to fight for his right of being able to legally die a proud man and be offered Euthanasia.  Instead, the Supreme Court denied the man the possibility of euthanasia but rather offered the somewhat inhuman thought of starving himself to end his life.  So instead of being legally allowed to be euthanized, this man ended up having to cease fluids and food and essentially died of starvation.

As a nursing student, I know that there would have been a syringe drive included in his last days of life to ease the pain from the cancer and various other illnesses.  And that he would have been medicated.  However as a person, I don’t know how to describe the emotion that I am feeling but it could be described as sadness because his overall want had been denied.  What kind of autonomy is that at the end of the day?

Talking about autonomy but not in the medical sense, my last blog was written about my experience of being in a relationship and how it could be labelled as an emotionally abusive one.  Having uploaded my futuristic and honest post, it caused many a people from complete strangers to the Fairy Godmother to send me a message saying ‘what a bloody wonderful post’.

But it also had people that I have known for both short and long bursts of my life, openly admit ‘OMG. I can so relate to your blog post.  I have been in a relationship that can only be described as emotionally/physically/sexually abusing and I have never met someone who is brave enough to stand up for those who have been in the same situation.  Or for those who are still in that situation.  Thank you!’

These people who I thought lived an ordinary life, who are mothers/fathers/sisters/brothers/lovers you name it, opened up the flood gates and spoke of their stories.  I had my blog post be shared amongst friends, words of wisdom and encouragement to leave their partner because it wasn’t their fault.  I had people from far and wide speaking of their harrowing stories of their partner/father/mother and siblings belittling them, demanding things that were out of this world.  And if not done to this sadistic person’s level of opinion, they would physically resort to punishing their victim.  Before sitting there and telling them that what they had done, would never be done again only if they were good and listened to what their abuser had to say,

As a result of posting my thoughts and inner feelings as to where the fuck my relationship went wrong, I was subjected to a little visit by the person afore mentioned in previous blog post.  Needless to say, I felt like I could have sustained a heart attack or possible TIA when my heart stopped beating.  Not to mention all of the blood in my body was now lying around my feet in a pool of warmness.  Having a feeling that if I didn’t get this over and done with, I would be subjected to more unexpected visits.  I was then told by this person that they had read my blog post and weren’t happy with how they had been portrayed.

Even though the exterior was nodding, the interior was on a completely different angle.

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The words ‘everything I wrote was the truth! I didn’t lie’ was floating around my head as I was told and almost made to believe (if I had been dumb and a sucker), that they didn’t want my hair to be cut nor short.  They didn’t want me to change and as a result of ditching this toxic relationship, they were starting to discover who they were as a person.  And that, if I was insane and delusional enough to pop those delightfully rose tinted glasses back on, there could be a future ‘us‘.  And if I apologised for my mistakes of constantly being ill, having PMS and my family holding me hostage for months on end; that we could get back together.

The words: ‘Get Fucked!‘ comes to mind.

Now talking about getting fucked, I swear I need to make an appointment with a certain law officer.  There is so much pent up frustration, constantly being horny and anger a person can take before snapping.  Which leads me to the final blog post that I personally and quiet openly will say, I think is one of the best pieces of work I have done to this date.  This blog post would be the discussion/read along we shared about anal sex, bondage, porn at 10 o’clock in the morning and the ever interesting and steadily growing world of BDSM and S&M.

This is before the thought of 50 Shades of Boring was splashed across our screens and stuck on the sides of buses.

Besides, who wants to be seeing a 10 metre black and white photo of two actors pretending to kiss one another, when you could be the one experiencing someone over six foot, pushing you up against a wall and kissing you senseless.  So senseless indeed that you forget your name, address, bank pin and have to physically write this shit down before you dial 9-1-Penis!

At this present point in time, I should probably apologise to my Godmother who is possibly experiencing a coronary attack.  I am sorry but I cannot give up fantastic dick because it certainly knows how to do the job perfectly.  I give it a 9/10 because you can never give a perfect 10/10 as it blows their ego out of proportion and there is always room for improvement.  Also if her church ladies are reading this because they are curious as to what the Fairy Godmother’s god-daughter has written about this time, I also apologise.

And just to clarify to one and all reading this, God still loves me even though I have sinned…many a time.  And I know this for a fact.

Now when 50 Shades of Same Canes was released, or rather the trailer of supposedly hot steamy kisses and the ever exciting world of B-D-S-M was thrown on our televisions/buses; my news feed upon my social media lit up like fireworks.  There were posts specifically reserved to discussing how ‘exciting’ and ‘thrilling’ it would be to see the movie.  While in some cases, there was posts specifically reserved for taking this shit down like terrorist cell and we didn’t want any survivors at the end of the day.

I’m pretty much sure you can tell which side of the fence I sat upon and it was in the middle.  Rather preferred to not listing my thoughts and beliefs upon what was supposedly ‘highly erotic’ and ‘sexual women for empowerment’.  However, when I thought that the coast was clear one morning while waiting in line for my bus to arrive.  Fate on the other hand, decided to be a bitch and dump the ultimate cupcake not only in my lap but also in front of me.

“Yes, he brought it up.  He saw the ad for Fifty Shades and turned around and looked at me….I know.  Before asking if we wanted to try something out like this.  So when we get home, I am going to tie him up with his tie…… It’s the first time we have tried something naughty like this and he even has, what’s it called?…..safe word, yes that’s it.  In case we start to get uncomfortable with this….I am so nervous!”.

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Wow and I thought Mills and Boons were for elderly ladies who would die at the idea of someone kissing, was for pussies.  For those who can’t risk it due to a poor heart condition, I will give you the run down:  175 pages.  Two kisses, three if she is putting (slutting) herself out there.  Her negligee slips off her left/right shoulder.  She sees stars/fireworks bursting over her head after his manhood slips into her garden.  They fight or she runs off. Last page, they proclaim their love after he rescues her.  The end.

So my Mills and Boons lady as I dubbed her in that second, had me standing there with my mouth open and the sip of coffee that I had once taken was working its way down the wrong pipe in my throat.  Not knowing how to stop myself from staring at this lady in horror, it was until the fact of me clutching my chest prevented me from continuing to stare at her.

As I started choking and patting myself on the chest with a somewhat limp hand, Mills and Boons swung around and stared at me.  Like I had been listening in on her private conversation which we all know I had been.

I braced my hands on my knees, wheezing and no doubt looked and sounded like I had just run a long distance marathon. It was in that moment; I shook my head and wondered what the hell the world was essentially coming to.  Before noticing Mills and Boon was still staring at me in shock and I used the smooth line of, “Don’t you just hate it when coffee is too hot and you end up burning your tongue?”

Before waving my hand around like it was an everyday occurrence while instead, my mouth was opening and closing in horror.  The thought of ‘what the hell is the world thinking and doing’ would rear its ugly head a few days later.

Not while I was flagging down a bus to get to my destination of travel i.e. university, but rather while I was waiting for my lecture to begin.  As I silently screamed and wanted to bang my fists down on my pathetically tiny lap desk,  I felt like turning around and yelling “I chose the bloody middle, near the front, for a fucking reason because no oneever fucking sits in No Man’s Land!”

Clearly not, Scarlett.

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Waiting with my epic resting bitch face on, I proceeded to watch my Law lecturer decide if he really wanted to be there, call it quits or throw up in the trash can.  All the while being subjected to five girls and a guy having a running commentary about Fifty Shades of Hormones.  After having sat here and bagged the shit out of the movie, I should probably admit to having seen it.  I know, I know to those who know me in real life and are stunned in complete horror and are wishing to disown me altogether.

Biebs, I am totally talking about you.

My claim to sitting through the near tortuous two hours of complete and utter bullshit, predictable things and the ever welcoming thought of, ‘my sex life doesn’t consist of that happening. Mine is so much better!’ is the fact I wanted to see if the movie had done any of the book justice.  However, I was proved wrong in my theory but on the positive note, at least I didn’t have to pay for the ticket.

The only thing that I can say I liked about the movie was, whoever suggested asking Annie Lennox to sing, ‘I’ve Put A Spell On You is possibly the smartest idea.  However, I don’t see this movie being nominated for best movie or best action film for 2015.  But rather will no doubt be voted as the worst possible film at the Razzies next year along with the supporting cast members.

Besides, who doesn’t like a little soul that sends shivers spiralling down your back when Annie starts singing.  Mhm, talk about erotic foreplay through a song and hello Daddy!

Not to mention, Annie is a fabulous singer to listen to in the morning as you are getting ready.  Particularly when you are bent over the bathroom sink, back is arched so much so that your bottom is sticking out.  As you draw on your irresistible and lusciously seductive ruby red lips before standing up and straightening your shoulders.

Fixing your tits in your bra/top so that they are now looking 100% fab-u-ohhh rather than two deflated sacks of muscle and expired milk ducts.  Before adding the final touches to your hair and a quick glance to make sure you don’t have come in your hair before stepping out the front door.  With that determined strut in your walk as you know you can are going to conquer the world.  Even if it is just for that day and with that, please feel free to call us: Ball Buster Mistress.

As a result of being known as Ball Buster Mistress, you have primed yourself for defence against those morons who no doubt will be leaving you, wanting to rip your hair out in chunks.  But you have primed yourself for the fact that red lips make men stare at you, fanaticise as to what you could do with those lips on them and women glare at you.  Not to mention the odd person who will no doubt weep a little in their pants because they know that once you step off that train, they are never going to see you again and that you are out of their league.

So this is when you make them feel like they are 100% the man you would turn to on a cold, dark, lonely night.  If you weren’t trapped on a metal freight carrier with hundreds of other trapped souls.  This can be achieved by outrageously staring at them as they stare at you, licking your lips slowly while peeking up from the book you have so carelessly planted in your lap.

Presenting them with a little smirk and eyebrow raise and then look out the window as if you are trying to find someone.  Before following them as they just so happened to walk past you and since you are openly staring at them, they stumble a little before straightening themselves up.  And as a final parting before turning my attention completely away from them, I wink at them.

This Dearest Readers, this has only happened in a matter of a moment or two.  Now to say that I am a bitch and a cock teasing one at that comes in handy sometimes.  But I only play that card when the moment is necessary or some dick wad needs to be knocked down a few hundred pegs from his golden chair.  And made to realise how nice Earth rather this his view over humanity.

Now when the clock struck, 12:01 which is exactly the same time my lecturer decided he wasn’t going to call it quits or end up throwing up in the rubbish bin; I was over people, society and the morons behind me.  And to top it off, I hadn’t had a great night sleep, I hadn’t had my pre-lecture/human tea/coffee and I was ready to be hormonal as fuck.

This would end up with me calling in sick from my tutorial, heading home and pulling up Games of Thrones so I can watch some guy be mauled to death by wolves.  But since I was stuck as I had elected to get a further education, go somewhere in life that didn’t consist of a maternity ward pumping kid after kid out, I sucked it up.

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I put on my resting bitch face and dealt with these idiots who spent forty-five minutes discussing the ins and outs of how incredibly handsome Christian is.  Why they thought Anna was the biggest bitch and idiot on the earth and how she should have sucked it up and stayed with him.  The question I asked myself when trying to not strangle myself with a noose that was made out of tights was ‘why would you stay in something like that? Guaranteed he smacked/spanked her, she opted to be a in that relationship and should have understand the rules/regulations set out’.

Hello people, they had a contract!

In return I was hoping that the smartest one out of them would rephrase my words in their own manner, instead happened to say something completely else that made me raise an eyebrow.  Predictable Barbie was soon placed upon her head as a nickname as she flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and looked at her friends like they shared a brain between the four of them.  “Um, hello guys”, Predictable Barbie said nasally, pausing for emphasise.  “He’s like totally rich, like good looking and has, um, like heaps of money.  Did I say he was rich?”

And we know who is going to marry whom in the social hierarchy of the health care system and it won’t be a fellow nurse I can assure you.  Excuse me, Dr. McSteamy but I believe there is something in my mouth and that would be your cock calling out for me.  Guess Mummy and Daddy are footing the bill for Barbie to attend uni and add another few letters to the end of her name.  That is if she happens to make it past this semester and doesn’t end up having to pay someone to do her assignments.

The final sword to my already disturbed ear drums, post Lois and Red, caused my ear canals to now vainly tried to stem the internal haemorrhage of what had been once my ear drum.

Which had now perforated and it was in that precise moment of time, I felt like bludgeoning myself to death.  Which when thinking about it, my weapon of choice wouldn’t be along the lines of something easy, breezy Covergirl.  Such as a goose down feather pillow being placed over my face and the slow pressure being applied.  As a result, being smothered to death and

when the pillow is removed, my face looks like I have just fought to contain my life.  But rather since I am born with it, maybe its Maybellinekind of gal, my weapon of choice would be something sex related.

With that consideration taken into mind, my thought of a 12 inch, glitterised dildo as my assault weapon being used to beat me senseless around the head was appropriate.  Because after all, we are talking about BDSM, sex and 50 shades of ‘oh that’s a pretty cock you have!’. And with that, I shall my sparkly 12 inch cock: Cullen, Edward Cullen.  Because like Stephanie stated, when Edward hit the sun, he shone like a thousand twinkling diamonds or some shit.  And considering my dildo has been hit by the glitter fairy, it’s going to sparkle in the sun when I take him out of my handbag.

Now I am not suggesting that you come up to me in the street and pull out a 12 inch rubbery cock to beat me around the head would be appropriate.  First of all: that is assault.  Secondly: people would be looking at us strangely like ‘why the hell is that person beating that woman with a rubber dildo?’.  And thirdly: ‘why the fuck does that person have a 12 inch cock in their bag?  Wow, that person is into some serious kinky shit!’.

The comment that had my ear drum bleeding and myself wanting to bash myself to death with a 12 inch dildo was for the person who I had thought had been around the block or two.  Especially when it came to BDSM as she had that vibe about her like she ate men for breakfast and spat them out at dinner.  Having just said that, I think she may be related to my own man eating, career hungry Bitch, Lady Blacksnot III.

Motioning with a hand for her group to get closer, I heard their chairs squeaking as they no doubt shuffled closer to be able to hear what is about to spewed out in words of wisdom.  Predictable Barbie’s friend, Mistress Skipper, released a breath and whispered, “So I discovered that men love getting head while I look them in the eye!”  Of course, her group tittered and fluffed around because someone had dared to do something risqué while I rolled my eyes and fought to contain the bubble of hysterical laughter from erupting.

Not to mention wanting to turn around in my seat and go, “So you really want to talk about BDSM and what it is like to experience being tied up?  To be thrusted up against a wall and fucked roughly, all the while being told that you not to come until you are given permission to.  Because that control you pride yourself with during the viewing of society is taken away from you when you enter that bedroom.  And if you seriously want to know what it is like to have a BDSM relationship, than I can tell you.”

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Safe to say I have a more interesting sex life than what was portrayed in 50 Shades of Yawn.  As a result I am not embarrassed to admit that I find the BDSM lifestyle of those who participate in it, either as a Dom or Sub, interesting and that my curiosity is peaked.

That I like a little spanking, being pushed up against a wall and be roughly kissed.  All the while having my hair yanked on so my head is tilted back and my eyes are staring into his before watching his gaze drop down to stare at my lips as I lick them.  Defying the orders of being innocent looking and being a hell cat is the reason why I am willing to participant in becoming someone that I don’t represent when in society.  Also because I still have control at the end of the day because it is the subs who control their Dom’s, even if people disagree.

Besides it can get pretty boring having to be the good little girl who enjoys having pure vanilla based sex that comes in two positions.  Missionary and Missionary.  Oh, that’s one positions.  Whoops.  And it can also become pretty boring having to be the strong, independent woman both in society and in between the sheets.  But like Lois once stated over morning tea as she dropped whipped cream onto her scone, “Scarlett. Men like a strong woman on the street but a feisty woman between the sheets’.  I won’t really mention how she worded the sentence but I believe you can gather where I was going with that sentence.

To think desperately horny little housewives/house who flocked to see this movie, would have left wanting to try being tied up with a grey tie.  And go into the extreme depths of being kinky by introducing ‘no clothes Saturday’, ‘no panties Wednesday’ and dropping a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs around their partner’s wrists.  Please, why not go to your local police station/department and ask for a spare set of cuffs because you are going to handcuff your partner to your bed tonight and fuck them senseless.  I’m sure that will get you to be escorted off the premises or be restrained yourself and being thrown in a cell to ‘cool down!’.

So what does the month of April bring?

April will bring many a moment where I no doubt sit there and wonder why I decided to further my education.  Particularly when mid-semester exams are happening, stay tuned because there is sure to be a blog post simply based upon the torture one goes through of studying.  And why it should be known as the act of death.

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It will also bring the beginning of another year spent without the warm and welcoming presence of The Admiral and with that, the thought of packing a bag and skipping off for a destination retreat.  A certain beloved someone has offered me a few days reprieve from my ever busy life of a university student and slightly insane woman.

As a result, I will be able to curl up on the couch with an delicious book resting in my lap as I slowly but surely start to close the chapters in my life as I say farewell to the house.  The house that has shared many memories and for bringing The O’Chunky’s together again as a family.

It has offered the delightful memories of spending two weeks of my summer as a tweenie and teenager frolicking amongst the waves and collecting shells for home.  Also walking into the hairdressers one day and saying, “I want you to cut my hair off.  And I want it short”.  Least to say, the hairdresser had a small heart attack as I settled myself in her chair and she watched my near waist length hair float to the ground.  The house and its members within its four walls shared in moments of laughter and happiness, moments of anger and rage but supplied a warm hand upon one’s shoulder and wrapped its arms around them, giving them a cuddle.

The house at the end of the day has turned a blind eye to the naughty stolen drinks of G&T but has encouraged chop stick wars, songs sung in Gaelic, laughter and four children rocking up with sand on their feet.  A countless tales of catching sharks, being dumped by waves and riding the Dorrigo.  It witnessed the planning and discussions of what will be happening when The Admiral passes and The Fairy Godmother stating firmly, ‘No black!’.  It witnessed as The Admiral took his last breath and as a result, settled upon its foundation as it mourned.

It watched in silence as six people dressed themselves in black while shedding a tear or two, before the final touches were placed.  A handkerchief, a spritz of perfume, a quite chat upon what is going to happen and the slicking of red war paint was placed upon quivering lips.  Finally, the house will see a mature aged woman whose determination will pave her pathway for her as she places a kiss upon the head of BB and a final stroke of the guitar case that held the lingering strums of music.  It will also see her stand beside her siblings as she supports them on their birthdays.

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April brings the positive thoughts of it being okay to eat four Easter bunnies, fourteen Easter eggs and four hot cross rolls as it is Easter after all.  It also brings the entertaining and exciting thought of my darlings, Kaffy and Frodo turning 22 and get to see them develop beyond their years and mature even further.

As a result, my bond with them continues to grow on a daily basis and for that, I am so excited that they are all mine.  Probably should send my parent’s sperm and eggs a card in the mail, thanking them for creating two perfect human beings but they should have kept them under 6 foot.  Rather than allowing our mother, Lois and Godmother to feed them with dynamic lifter.  But still, at the end of the day beggars cannot be choosers, can they Dearest Reader?

April brings around that time of year where we farewell and bid adieu to the season of glistening and shimmering warmth of the sun.  The envy of staring at bikini toned bodies swarming in masses while sitting slouched in your poncho and large floppy hat.  While those bodies you know have dieted for that bikini and guys have hit the gym to work on those muscles run around, you glare at that Frisbee like ‘don’t come near me’.  Also it’s that time to say good bye to us openly lowering our sunglasses and staring at the fine specimens of men entertaining our female eye sights.

It brings the welcoming thought of bitter winds, humid moments, constant rain of winter and warm beds.

Like I have suggested each and every year when winter decides to slowly start making its self-known by excessive amount of rain, cloudy days and jeans start to override summer skirts, I am waiting.  Waiting for the moment the weather man greets me on my front door before giving me a parcel.  Not just any parcel but rather a special parcel that has my name stamped on the brown wrapping paper and twine.  And in that parcel is going to be a glass jar containing snow.

Snow that is seen to cover mountain tops and fields as far as the eye can see and I picture myself standing there with my arms spread wide and a snow flake landing on the tip of my tongue.  That’s until my coffee order for the day is called out and I have to relinquish the hold on the magazine showing these images.  And with that, reality sinks back in as I grab said coffee and inhale the smells coming out from the cup as I stumble up five

flights of stairs to find a table, chair or spot in the quiet zone.  The quiet zone that would put any person to sleep from the lack of noise as everyone types with hushed tones but manages to kick start the productive mind into realising that I am surrounded by other likeminded people.

People who want to study.  People who want to get a fantastic GPA.  People who want to get those assignments, lectures and tutorial notes out.  People who just want to succeed in life.

I think you get my point though.

April is an exciting time of the year because I can now wear my beanies, jeans, boots, get excited about gum boots and what scarf is going tres chic today.  It also brings the naughty thought of switching on a button, slipping into something sexy and lying back on sheets that make you sigh.

Sheets that have been warmed by my electric blanket as my body sucks up the heat like it’s been deprived.  Sleeping for hours on end before trudging out to the kitchen with furry and fuzzy socks on my feet as I make the hard choice of tea or coffee.  Oatmeal or eggs on toast.  And the entertaining thought that I don’t have eight o’clock classes this semester so I can sleep all I want.

Before topping it off with incredibly delicious idea of hot showers, stepping out to be billowed with steam escaping from the bathroom and your skin looking amazing from the steam bath.

Dearest and most appreciated lover of Scarlett, welcome to the blog listed: ‘Christian Grey and a 12 inch dildo’.  Safe to say, I think this maybe be another favourite of mine.

Until next time,

Cheers xo.

 

One thought on “Christian Grey And A 12 Inch Dildo….

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