Innie or Outie?

Ladies, do you have an Innie or an Outie? And no, I'm not talking belly buttons!

I have have a quite extensive porn collection (for a girl anyway), I've seen loads of porn on the internet (that's how my laptop got AIDS and died), and I have also thumbed through many a porno mag in my time and it came to my attention just how different vaginae can be. I knew that the color of your skin would determine the color of you punani, but up until around 4 or 5 years ago I had no idea that pussies were as varied in shape and size, and so different from one chick to the next.

If you're not sure what you've got follow these simple instructions:
1- You need to down trou' and stand in front of the mirror with your legs slightly apart.
2- Depending on your hairstyle down there you will either see:
a) A slit only - This would be an Innie
b) A slit plus your inner labia poking out (much like small tongues) - This variety would be an Outie.

Not that I'm a doctor or anything but after some extensive research and question asking to different people it seems that an outie is just due to having large inner labia that simply have no room to stay contained inside the outer labia, so they just spill out - Hence the name. Plain and simple. I ran a quick poll by my friends and it seems that innies and outies are split 50/50.

I think innies look a little posh and how do you do. You know, like a lady from say the 50s all prim and proper, very neatly presented with not a hair out of place. And outies look like a vampish young thing ready for a night out on the town, with all of their wares out on display!

What do guys prefer? Well, according to more of my research, again the verdict is came in at 50/50, and most of the dudes I surveyed added at the end of their answer "It doesn't really matter if her pussy is an innie or an outie, as long as it's wet and ready!"

Nuff said!

Worst Birthday Lunch in the history of humankind!

My sister GiGi and I decided to go to Sam's Boatshed (Syme Street, Williamstown) for for my Birthday lunch on the 20th April 2010 at noon when they just opened the doors. It was a lovely warm day so we sat outside. After perusing the very boring and out-dated menu we both decided to order the Chicken Parma with green beans and roasted chat potatoes. Yum! I couldn't wait to eat! I love green beans!

We ordered drinks when we ordered our meal with our dense waiter that was behaving like he was stoned - we did not catch his name as he neglected to wear a name badge - which he bought out very quickly. However, the meals were a completely different story. They took around 40 minutes to come out. We then sat with our meals in front of us for around 5 minutes before cutlery and napkins were brought out to us. No salt, pepper or any other condiment were offered.

In this time I noticed that there were no green beans but instead a rocket salad. I HATE ROCKET! My hatred for this vile green weed stems back to my childhood, but I don't want to get into this story today, I'll save that one for another day! Rocket is so overdone these days! Listen up Chefs of Melbourne: Melbournians are over rocket as side salads! I drew the waiters attention to the lack of green beans on my deep plate (The plate was more like a shallow bowl) and pointed out that I did not care to eat rocket. He just blankly stared at my plate, shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

We could now tuck into our now luke warm meals. The chicken was beautifully cooked - lovely and moist. The chat potatoes were not roasted, and in fact were deep fried. Being a keen cook on domestic and professional levels myself, I can tell the difference. It's not hard to tell the difference. Blind Freddy could tell the difference! I got through around a third of my parma and looked at the bottom of my plate. There was what I estimate to be around 40 to 50mL of oil sitting on the bottom! My food was so greasy I had to use my napkin to dab the oil from my food before masticating it.

We finished our meals and were patiently waiting for the waiter to clear our plates and offer us a dessert menu. We sat for around 10 minutes after which I began to lose my temper. My sister promptly got up and went inside to pay.

We left very disappointed and dissatisfied after giving the place a second chance after the last time I ate there. My starter of GRILLED Saganaki was forgotten by the kitchen, and then came out DEEP FRIED swimming in oil, served in a bowl, sitting on a paper napkin with my main meal.

I vow this - I will NEVER return to Sam's Boatshed again. You have taken enough of my time and money!

Filling in Time

I use to have a job. I don't have a job anymore. I lost it. If anyone has seen it, could you please return it to me. Actually scratch that. I don't want it back... Finders keepers!

I faced instant dismissal for tossing pebbles across a driveway into a metal waste paper basket. Harsh? I thought so, but there is and was nothing I could do about it. I was a casual employee, and if that is your current employment status, I urge you to search for a new job. Even if it means changing to a part time job at least you will have more rights than a casual.

Yesterday I was thinking that I have a lot of time on my hands these days, so I might turn all of this down time into something positive. I thought I need to stop wasting my days playing stupid flash games on the net, and watching hours of endless trashy TV provided by the magical Foxtel box. I need to do something constructive - even if its for my own sanity. So I started my blog. This is my second entry. I don't care if nobody but me reads it. That's not what I'm about. I'm not a look at me kind of person. Not with writing anyway. I've always had a way with words. I love them. I love manipulating them.

I'm thinking this will be a good platform to be able to vent all of the steam that is blocking up my brain. My head is just full of annoying little things. I need to clear them all out and make space for new stuff. But I want to save it all for posterity. So I can look back one day and think, Oh my God! What was I thinking back then? I was really messed up. I like to look upon it as Spring cleaning, but in Autumn. Perhaps I'm living in the wrong hemisphere?

So, this is me!

Why hello there! I didn't hear you come in! Come. Sit. Make yourself comfortable and I'll tell you a tale. Please ensure your seat is in the upright position, your tray is stowed and you have fastened your seat belt. This ride may get a little bumpy!

I have been told many times in my life that I am opinionated. I never knew weather or not it was a dis or a compliment. I'm still not sure. A thesaurus lists many synonyms for the word opinionated. Some of them include: adamant, assertive, biased, bigoted, bossy, cocky, conceited, dictatorial, inflexible, intransigent, obstinate, one-sided, overbearing, pigheaded, positive, pragmatic, prejudiced, self-assertive, set in stone, single-minded, stubborn, uncompromising and unyielding. All of these words, along many more describe a tiny piece of the whole package that is moi.

I was born under the Zodiac Sign of Aries. Well, actually, I was born on the cusp of Aries and Taurus, but apparently I display significantly more qualities of an Arian. This basically means that I am the most volatile and passionate of the Fire signs. I am also a mover and shaker, action oriented, expansive and like to take charge. I also share a birthday with good ol' Hitler and the ever charming Napoleon. Do these things explain why I'm opinionated? I'm not too sure. I may have to delve into this idea another time.

I am forever suffering from Foot in Mouth Syndrome -A symptom of being opinionated. I speak before I think. I guess I just call it as I see it. (Perhaps I should pursue a career as some sort of umpire or referee? - I'll tackle that one another day)

There was a time a few years back that comes to mind. I was out to dinner with 'The Girls'. Earlier that week there had been an horrific traffic accident that involved an overloaded car full of silly, young "invincible" punks. Long story short, the driver lost control of the car and it span out of control and eventually came to rest among some trees alongside the freeway. Page one of the next edition of the local news paper had a half page photograph of the aftermath of the accident. If I close my eyes I can still see it. A bright yellow wrecked VN Commodore, blackened in some places from the intense fireball that enveloped the car following the impact. It was the kind of picture that you look at, save a mental image of and reboot in your mind when you ever feel tempted to go 'just a little bit' faster than the allowed speed limit, in order to check yourself back into reality. In the photo I noticed something. Something very disturbing. In what remained of the back seat of the car you could quite clearly see a charred corpse of a n unfortunate passenger. I thought it was gross, but also an interesting thing to talk about at the dinner table. And for some silly reason I just 'had' to share my thoughts with the Girls then and there .
I recalled the details of this photograph to my friends just as the waitress brought our bill. Only to have her burst into tears, call me an insensitive bitch and storm off in hysterics. It turns out, those kids in that car were her friends. Naturally I felt really bad, but what could I do? My foot was already in my mouth and all I could do was try to pluck it out. I could never have known that she was connected to those kids. If she was still so clearly traumatised by the event, she should not have been waiting tables in some dodgy pub, but instead she should have been at home grieving with her other friends that had been left behind.

The point of the preceding story that started out to be a short tale and ended as a long epic was, that I have no control of the words that come from my mouth. I think I want to change that about myself. Not because I don't like who I am, I just think I can become a better version of me. I don't want to be completely uncritical of the world around me, I just want to awaken the part of my brain that filters and controls my breath being formed into audible words secreting from my lips. Opinionated Little Miss Version 2.0 here I come.

Stay tuned for the next episode...