Bi appointment only

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Bisexuals: who, what and where are they? Are they just lesbians not brave enough to fully come out of the closet? Are they really not as trustworthy as monosexuals? Are they highly sexed? Are they just flaky chicks riddled with indecision? Greedy bitches? Straight girls just trying to have fun? Or are they just not that fussy?

….if what? If I’d watched more Muffy (er I mean Buffy)?

Whether you buy into the bi-bollox or not, its fair to say that it’s a difficult terrain to navigate. The dilemma’s facing bisexuals are not exclusive to whether they date a guy or a girl, they extend way beyond the bedroom and well into outside world too. After all when is a bisexual woman considered one? When in a relationship with a man? No, silly, she’s just a straight girl then. Ok so what about when she’s in a relationship with a woman? No, she’s just a lesbian who hasn’t fully committed to the idea yet. Oh ok so is a bisexual only a bisexual when she’s in a three way relationship with both a guy and a girl? Err I don’t know, why are you asking me? I don’t know shit from cheese most days.

It’s no wonder most bisexuals choose to keep their sexuality under wraps, with the lesbian community only barely beginning to believe that they exists and the straight sisterhood only just starting to trust them with their boyfriends, you can’t blame us for not wanting to spill the beans as well as flick them (that one was for you Alicia).

For most bisexual women, mentioning it never seems applicable and you end up feeling like you’re masquerading as one thing or another rather than being completely true to yourself. If you’re in a relationship with a guy, telling him runs the risk of giving him a hard-on so big only a threesome will satisfy it (or at least he’ll be whining for one till the cows come home) and if you’re in relationship with a girl then you run the risk of her friends being mistrustful of you. What’s a bi-girl to do?

Image result for please can we have a threesome

It’s a bloody good thing that there is now a bisexual awareness day, which so happens to be today (oooh how convenient for this blog). Because without it, everyone who makes assumptions about a persons sexuality based exclusively on the gender of the person they are presently shagging, would need a friend like my friend Laura to gently and patiently explain it to them. Even then the people who don’t know them very well won’t know what to make of them. It’s ok for ‘proper’ gays, everyone knows they can’t help it, it’s genetic (or so science is starting to think) but where does that leave bisexuals? If it’s not genetic then are they just choosing to over-complicate their lives? Maybe. Or are they just unsuspecting folk who happen to fall in love with the peanut and not the shell?

In the case of so many bisexual women (me included) it comes as a massive surprise to your friends and your family, especially if you have only ever dated exclusively one sex. Luckily for me, most of my friends and family are beautiful and open-minded people who were much more concerned with why I had suddenly stopped watching Eastenders (or benders, as we commonly called it before I started dating a lesbian who might just get offended by the name-eek!).

It’s not completely unheard of for bisexuals to get accused of all manner of evils from withholding information from your friends to covertly perving over your BFF for years without her knowing. But that’s not the only thing that a bisexual girl might notice upon her arrival into the world of bisexual-dom, no, get comfortable, there’s more: straight women who have never considered that gaining your attention could flatter their ego (after all why would they, you don’t have a dick….or do you?) can suddenly and very unexpectedly start flitting around you like right giddy kippers just to see if they can get a ‘rise’ out of you (good luck with that one: most little lady love buttons just aren’t that big). Some people (through their confusion and lack of willingness to accept shades of grey that don’t involve desirable, filthy rich, kinky control freaks called Christian) will insist you’ve either lost your mind or are just trying to get attention.

 You’ll have to learn not to let these things piss you off because it’s indisputably preferable when compared to the women who will suddenly start eyeing you up suspiciously in the ladies’ room at your work, as though perhaps you really ought to be using the men’s room instead.  No-one ever told me that rest rooms (or pissers, as I usually call them) are separated not by gender but instead by sexual orientation…and if that’s true then where the fuck are all the bisexuals supposed to piss? That’s the bigger question here as I’m sure you’ll all agree. Bisexual awareness day is not just about raising awareness that some people are secretly and worryingly bisexual but that if you don’t do something soon we’ll all be waddling around bow-legged, hands to our private parts begging to use your carsie!

Bisexuals: they’re allowed to need the toilet too you know! Or, as the slogan says ‘some people are bisexual: keep them the fuck away from your boyfriends) errrr or something like that?

    

This is still our Sydney

Beautifully written, ties us to one another in the commonality that we feel. I’m sure we can all relate to this blog. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings Kazblah. x

kazblah

Flowers in Martin Place at 9.30am on Tuesday. Flowers in Martin Place at 9.30am on Tuesday.

It’s Monday morning and I’m running late. Walking late. It’s twenty minutes to ten when I turn left from Phillip St into Martin Place.

I don’t look at the Lindt cafe as I pass. My eyes are focused on the Channel Seven news ticker. I can’t remember now what it says but I’m sure Michael Clarke’s hamstring features somewhere.

I love Martin Place, its wide indulgent promenade and its buildings that speak of other times. I always take a moment to breathe it in.

Man Haron Monis is only minutes away. This morbid chapter is already unfolding. By the time I settle at my desk, he has entered the Lindt cafe. The lives of seventeen people going about the mundane business of ordering and serving coffee are now forever changed.

Before long, a large TV screen in our office is showing static…

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Orange is the new black.

And no i’m not talking about the TV show…i must be one of the only people yet to watch it. Although it is about chicks in prison (wearing orange) and so does kind of tie in to the #OrangeURHood trend. Forget all the ‘thanksgiving’ and ‘black friday’ trending that’s going on, get on board with this, it’s way more important!

Today is national End Violence Against Women’s day. Never heard of it? Shame on you, call yourself a feminist! 🙂 Don’t worry, most people haven’t. And now you know perhaps you can help raise awareness? Here are a few facts that will give you the right ‘ump:

  • 35% of women internationally experience some form of physical and/or sexual violence.
  • It is estimated that up to 30 million girls under the age of 15 remain at risk from FGM/C, and more than 130 million girls and women have undergone the procedure worldwide.
  • Worldwide, more than 700 million women alive today were married as children, 250 million of whom were married before the age of 15. Girls who marry before the age of 18 are less likely to complete their education and more likely to experience domestic violence and complications in childbirth.
  • The costs and consequence of violence against women last for generations.(OBVS).

Some light reading on the subject can be found here and reading up on the subject/spreading the word really is important. It shows women who have suffered/are suffering violence against them (more than 70% globally according to some statistics), that they aren’t alone, that we support them and that there are plenty of forums/support networks that will help them to speak out about human rights crimes against them. They don’t have to suffer in silence as many do.

Recently celebrities, like Jamelia (who dedicated a song to her abuser), spoke out about how they suffered. Not the stereotypical picture of the sort of woman that will suffer domestic violence (which we all know is bollox anyway), Jamelia’s story shows that ANY and EVERY type of woman can fall victim to violence. She is a successful strong popular career minded woman. Speaking out so bravely about it will invariably help loads of victims just to know that they aren’t alone and ITS NOT THEIR FAULT.

Violence against women is not just a domestic issue, it’s everything from the tricky subject of genital mutilation to gender based discrimination. Raising awareness and using our voices to speak up for our sisters that cant/wont, is just one way we can help. Get on board. Show that orange really is the new black.

http://www.unwomen.org/en/news/in-focus/end-violence-against-women

#orangeurhood

* Orange your neighbourhood from 25 November to 10 December to say NO to violence against women

See more here

The Mooncup: A Hippie Utensil for Celebrating the Seasons?

Women in the UK use 15,000 sanitary towels and tampons in their lifetime. British landfill needs to accommodate more than 12 billion pads and tampons annually contributing to environmental pollution. The plastic applicators for tampons were the most common form of rubbish found on beaches in Britain and Europe in 2007.

The problem is most women don’t know that there are alternatives. But there is, the Mooncup. If, like me, you thought that the Mooncup was something hippies used to celebrate the seasons, then read on. If by ‘hippies’ we mean the propagators of environmentally friendly ways of living, then yes they have been using the Mooncup to ‘celebrate their seasons’ since the mid 1930s when it first went on commercial sale.

In an attempt to take responsibility for my share of the girlie waste wedging itself between the toes of holiday makers in the South of France, I decided to join my incense-burning sisters and give the Mooncup a try! I began my search online at the official Mooncup web site. When the home page appeared, showing what looked like the top end of a plastic plunger, I freaked out. As I read on I learnt that the Mooncup is a reusable menstrual cup. That’s right, more cause for me to shudder and cringe! So I moved swiftly on to the FAQ section (which was more like a WTF section). I discovered it’s worn internally like a tampon but collects menstrual fluid rather than absorbing it and because it is reusable, you only need to buy one. Curious about the actual ‘ins and outs’, I decided to buy one.
When my period arrived I read the accompanying booklet; and prepared it for use disappointing my imagination once more. I pictured my attempts being like the famous ‘pigs blood’ scene in Stephen King’s film ‘Carrie’. This wasn’t the case.

The Mooncup holds around 30ml of fluid, which is roughly a third of the total produced each period. This means you don’t have to change it as often as you would sanitary towels or tampons. Mooncups are made from organic materials and contain no bleaches, deodorisers or absorbency gels. So unlike its less green counterpart, they are not linked to Toxic Shock Syndrome (TSS).

By the time I had finished my period, I had changed from a woman who held the Mooncup using only her fingertips, to someone who refused to let it go. However I still doubted whether the overall benefits of products like the Mooncup would be enough to guide us into a new era of feminine hygiene. But I was reassured to learn that the Mooncup was voted ‘Best New Product’ at the Natural Trade Show and if that isn’t enough to float eco-friendly boats, it was also approved by the Vegan Society!

So, you ask, has the Mooncup turned me into a Hippie and will I really start collecting my own belly button fluff in order to insulate my attic? The answer has to be an undisputed ‘yeah man’!

Original article found here

Shrinking your Head as well as your Thighs

What on earth am I talking about, I hear you ask? Hypnosis, that’s what. And I don’t mean the kind that leaves you barking like a dog in a crowded pub against your will (or is that just me?). I’m talking about the kind of hypnosis being offered as the modern worlds cure for just about everything.

Hypnotherapy, it would seem, is used for a variety of things. It’s said to help you quit smoking, it can rid you of your insecurities, your fat, the need for anaesthetic during medical procedures and mostly your bank balance (miracles don’t come cheap my lovelies). Now that’s not to say it isn’t worth every penny if it can help with issues that medical professionals have no solutions for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it. After all, it’s like they say, everything is a case of mind over matter (‘if you don’t mind, it don’t matter’). Isn’t that what the Jedi’s have been trying to teach us all along: to use the force? (Or ‘forks’ as I misguidedly thought as a child. I did wonder why they were so obsessed with cutlery but I just assumed they were a species of constant snackers, forever fearing they’d come across food and not have the utensils to eat it with. After all, to that I can relate.)

So is there anything in this hypno-cods-wallop (as my mother calls it)? Well it sounded plausible in theory, but one can never be entirely sure until one tries these things out for ones own self. And so one did. And one found it to be a rather fruitful endeavour. (I could get into this posh malarkey. Perhaps I’ll become a hypnotherapist, make a packet and become well and truly posh).

First thing on my hypno-list was losing weight (of course it was, like so many women, I love eating, hate dieting and wish I were a few dress sizes thinner): and so I bought one of those ‘I can make you thin’ CDs. My friends, I would love to tell you what happened beyond the intro, “do not listen to this eyes closed process whilst operating machinery”, but I simply can’t because I fell asleep. And it wasn’t just the first time I fell asleep either, I fell asleep every single time I listened to it! Paul McKenna would start speaking, I’d start snoozing and around 3 weeks later I did in fact lose weight! No word of a lie, I did, it was in fact the diet miracle I’ve been waiting for all my life. I ate everything I wanted to eat (no exceptions) and I lost weight in the process. With his hypno-healing ways he shrank my head AND my thighs and for a while he was elevated to a God in my books. So I can tell you, hand on my heart, there is something in it. But I don’t need to tell you that I put it all back on as soon as I stopped listening to the CD, because unfortunately cake overthrew Paul McKenna as my god and resumed it’s rightful place. So my conclusion is this: hypnosis is powerful but cake is king.

Original article found here

Live And Let Drive

If you want to inspire all other road users to drive like they have a serious bout of crabs, then I would advise erecting a giant metal ‘L’ sign on the top of your car. Trust me, it will act like a beacon for attracting idiots from far and wide (and I’m not referring to the students). Yes when a learner driver pushes the pedal to the metal for the first time, they’ll stall. Yes they’ll drive in weird kangaroo bursts of quick-stop-quick-slow, giving their instructor gradual and permanent whiplash, they’ll zig-zag across the road like they’re totally trousered and they’ll take half an hour to get started every time they give way to someone. But if you’re in a rush and want to get home quickly, then it’s only logical that none of these things will help:

1-driving up their ar*e (tailgating is responsible for more than a 3rd of all road accidents)

2-dangerously overtaking as if you’ve got the mad skills of Jensen Button (in 2007 175 people were killed and 1,351 were seriously injured from accidents caused by overtaking)

3-smashing your fist on your horn repeatedly (not technically the legal use of your horn)

4-screaming, swearing and generally acting like a chump (a significant number of chumps end up ‘waxed like a candle’)

When I took my driving lessons with a driving school called ‘Live And Let Drive’, I didn’t realise just how apt a name that was going to be. I’ll admit it, I would have preferred if my lifestyle allowed for a chauffeur, ready to take me anywhere I wanted at any time I wanted (say for example a chauffer like Jason Statham from Transporter 2…sigh..swoon). But alas I was born into a life more likely to enable me to ‘hot-wire’ than to hire and so off I went in search of a driving school brave enough to take me on.

As it turned out, I had a really lovely driving instructor, who disappointingly wasn’t Axl Rose nor did she look anything like Jason ‘the fittie’ Statham. But she did come and pick me up from work, drop me back home and had me in stitches on every single one of my lessons. She was well aware of the ‘L’ plate phenomena and it’s potential for serious danger and combatted it successfully with her calming and soothing tones. If it wasn’t for her, I swear I would have either cried or cracked skulls in an emotional fury on most of my lessons.

Now that I have my licence *passed first time. ahem* I am always very patient and respectful of learner drivers. Not because I have the demure benevolence of a Hindu cow but because I don’t want to cause a crash, I have sympathy for how nerve wracking driving can be for the first time and I still find aggressive drivers to be loathsome cretins totally worthy of my disdain.

Original article found here

Cake-hole closes till further notice

If it’s not zebra meat in our pickled onion crisps, it’s flakes of human eczema in our biscuits. The media is literally all over food-horror stories like a cat on a kipper. The TV listings are rammed with one program after another telling us not to ‘hurry hurry spoil the curry’, how to make an entire banquet in a nano-second, what’s good to eat, what’s not good to eat, how to microwave a hedgehog without being judged by your neighbours, employing people to root through our bins and shame us with the sheer quantity of stuff we’re consuming AND the horrific things that they are sneaking into our Snickers nowadays! It’s no wonder consumers are becoming much more food savvy lately.

But an increased awareness of what actually goes into our food, has birthed new categories of eaters. We no longer class ourselves by financial, social or educational standards. We are now classing ourselves by the kind of food you find in our fridges.  We’ve got vegetarians, pescatarians, pollopescatarians, vegans, carb-dodgers, 5:2 dieters, lighter lifers, Cambridge dieters, weight watchers, fruitarians and just plain fussie-tarians.

Last year the vegetarian society reported an increase in the sale of Quorn products by 20% year on year. Alongside this, Vegfest UK are predicting that 55 % of the population will be on a mainly vegan diet by 2020. Their studies show a 40% increase in vegan diet interest (which includes an increase in cookbook sales on Amazon). Experts say that people are running out of reasons not to be vegan, with the variety of ‘mock meat’ and ‘cheats cheese’ available on the market, including vegan caviar, faux-fish, vegan cheesecake and even ice-cream (which is lower fat than normal ice cream and not too bad in my books).

We’ve come a long way, it would seem, since the caveman days of clubbing cockroaches over their heads just for a bite to eat. But is this new wealth of investigation and information helping us or is it hindering us? Is it giving us the rightful power as consumers back or is it paralyzing us in the Pringles isle from putting anything at all into those baskets or our gobs?

Well, if we really ARE what we eat (which makes me the love child of a seeded Greek bread loaf and a giant packet of Tyrrells) then perhaps a little extra consideration for our food cant be a bad thing. Making better food choices should after all reap positive rewards for our health and what’s more worth it than that?

Original article found here