The Joy of Bumsex

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Can you explain to me the joy of anal sex for girls, because really, it's like doing a big poo in reverse, isn't it?

Oh how I long to be able to discuss sexual pratices and techniques with sophistication and elegance, like the grown ups do. But I cannot. Not without giggling and sniggering.

Do you remember that day when we exchanged our deepest, darkest intimate secrets, and I had to put a sofa cushion between our heads?

Yeah.

Love and stuff,
Antipo

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Do Men Know?

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Do you think men know that sometimes, for example on a Sunday morning when you are looking foward to a long lie-in but the spouse has other ideas, and while he’s pumping away you are thinking ‘I must get the chicken breasts out early to finish thawing before lunch, and I will fry the courgettes and diced pumpkin in a separate pan from the chicken curry or else the little one won’t eat it, and I hope I’ve got enough apples to make a really big crumble to last for two days, and oh God I wish he’d hurry up because I need to get to the supermarket early to avoid the crowds and I don’t even want to go there but I urgently need to buy that magic correcting fluid to restore to whiteness my son’s chef’s uniform which I accidentally stained pink in the laundry yesterday because I so foolishly added to the wash that bright pink sheet (which I originally dyed fuschia to match Ms. Mac’s blog and so the Bloggers’ Pick-Knickers would find us easily in Paris four years ago), and he needs the uniform clean and ironed by 7 am tomorrow.’?

I bet they have no idea.

The Dress

Fluff called me from Melbourne! Her wedding is 11 months away but she has already bought a dress and chosen a matching venue. The story of how she found the dress is so deliciously Fluff.

She intended to simply buy a beautiful frock, as it is her second marriage, she’s 43 and she supposed she would have a low-key wedding this time around. (Here I thought ‘But Fluff doesn’t know the meaning of low-key!’). Additionally, she wanted a dress she could wear again on future occasions. On a whim she and her daughter stopped in at a bridal boutique one day and tried on bridal gowns just for fun, with no serious retail intentions. However, the gowns all contained remarkable corsetry, intricate boning and structures that firmed her curves, plumped up her splendours, and felt simply divine.

Fluff had no intention of forking out hundreds of dollars on a made-to-measure gown, but decided she would have to buy a corset to wear under a pretty frock. However, the effect was not as shimmery and intoxicating. She was hooked, and began researching corsetry. Fluff is an extremely gifted seamstress and felt sure she could make her own corset and dress. Sadly the procedure proved, after hours of research and visiting corsetry suppliers, to be lengthy and costly, and frankly too much bother.

During the course of her research she came across a website specialising in RED wedding gowns. That sparked off a new longing in the sartorial hemisphere of Fluff’s lovely brain, the part that goes Ping! when it sees satin and shantung and lustrous reflets and she went back for another round of trying on bridal gowns in the boutiques.

One weekend, near her fiancé’s weekend cottage in a small town, she came across the perfect RED dress and bought it. The hardest thing is not being able to wear it for a whole year. The Dress is being stored at her mother’s house, safely out of temptation’s way.

She subsequently found a venue that will set off The Dress to its best advantage. Her choice of marriage celebrant will surely be sympathetic to The Dress. All that remains is to invite guests who will flatter The Dress.

And what of ‘a dress she could wear again on future occasions’? In true Fluff style, she will wear The Dress to dinners, picnics and PTA meetings, and she will bedazzle the bejesus out of everyone else!

Antipo Is a Bad Mother, Despite Her Best Intentions

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I can never blog this, but I can tell you!

I bought myself a small whiteboard (felt pen, wipe clean thingie) for the kitchen, to act as a running total shopping list. The crotchfruit are always forgetting to write down what they need and then get cross with me when I don't buy their new school pens or whatever. So a certain young person not entirely unrelated to me, asked for a whiteboard too, for her room.

Of course I never intended to read it, as I naturally respect her privacy. However, this morning, an incident of a most peculiar and alarming nature occurred. The whiteboard actually jumped before my eyes and the words inscribed there flashed instantly onto my brain via the ocular nerve. Obviously such an event was entirely beyond my control...

The whiteboard contained the following list:

- Don't forget compass and calculator
- Wear skinny jeans, blue shirt, black vest and blue scarf to school
- Try to sit next to Sophie today
- Ask if her parents are divorced. Tell her that her new haircut REALLY suits her, is mega cool!!!
- Ask Papa to take me shopping at big new shopping mall.
- Discuss CHRISTMAS!!!!

We Slayed 'Em!

Waiting for our curtain call



That skirt swirls like a dream!



This time I managed the handstand without slipping...



Bums!



Mine is the power and the glory!

CanCan Time Again

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I'm so happy you blogged again that I wish I could spend the entire day in social intercourse with you. Alas, as you know, my life is infinitely busy and glamorous: today I must drag my sorry carcass down to the Village which is celebrating the 1900 Festival again.

I will be wearing that sumptuous black and red costume with the frilly skirt, the cleavage and the ankle boots and I will attempt to avoid extreme ridicule as I shake my dessicated old bones and perform the high kicks (or medium high kicks) alongside the young, bouncy dancers.

So, until next time, I bid you adieu and bestow you with much festive love and dusty saloon bar kisses,

Antipo

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Dispatch from The Village of the Damned

Sweet Bunny Lover,

Yes, I got your sunny sext yest but was so green with envy I was unable to string a coherent sentence together to wish you the greatest joy while stroking your rabbit in the sun.

Nothing going on as yet. My showdown with my arch nemesis isn't until 4:30pm so think of me then as I sit biting my tongue until it bleeds. According to Fight Club you can swallow about three pints of your own blood before you vomit which should mean I manage to not puke by the end of the meeting. The overwhelming urge to scream, "Well he's got his apprenticeship now so shut the fuck up!" will be incredibly hard to overcome.

Hehe- Hard.

Your lovely clients will miss your sunny disposition dreadfully. Have you warned your dear, naive young replacement about the sniffer? And do you think Jesus will be sorry to see you go? How will he bear the loss of his crush?

My caramel slice was amazing and yet, still not perfect. I shall have to keep trying until it is fit to be sold at market. And then I won't sell it, I will eat it all alone when everyone is out at work/school. *evil cackles*

Muchos cute and furry besos (I grew a moustache just to compete with the bunny)

S
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Here Comes Trouble

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I don't ever wish for your actual demise, as it would be a tragic loss to humankind, but if (and before) you do happen to cark it suddenly one day, please will you update your will immediately, in order to bequeath me your new, red strappy sandals? They would be somewhat of a consolation for in me in my terrible grief.

Thanks Lovey.

In other news, my new baby gave me a heart attack tonight by squeezing through an incredibly small hole to frolic in my neighbour's garden! Ungrateful little shite! Luckily I was watching her, otherwise I might never have seen her again. I was sure the whole fence was impenetrable but she can apparently flatten herself like a mouse. The little bugger will be confined to the cage until Mr Grumpy Blackheart has built a proper hutch/exercise pen.

He has gone out and bought the appropriate building materials already! I thought I was going to have to pout and nag for several weeks. Score!