Fist Pumps and High Fives?

So casual sex hey? Like it or hate it, it exists and it can be the cause of many laughs and many awkward moments. To me a one night stand is simply that, you build a "relationship" with a person, have some time with them and then be on your way into the horizon to never see them again.  During a conversation that I had this week, it would appear that one of my friends doesn't actually know this is the lay of the land

 I guess we could call him a nice guy, he believes in the good of people when sometimes maybe there is actually no good to give. He was away travelling and met a lovely girl in a hotel bar and they began to share their life stories, they talked for a few hours and one thing led to another and they ended up back at her hotel room, there was a bit of hand holding and polite conversation and after this was done she asked him to leave so that her friend could come back. For most normal people the story would have ended there... right? Right, but not if you are my mate. He knew that the girl was checking out of her hotel the next day so he got on his scooter and headed back at check out time to say goodbye. He showed up in the lobby and hung around to say goodbye until they left. It wasn't until a few days later when she emailed him to ask why he came back that he may have got an inkling that his actions were some what amiss. I asked him why he had gone back and he said simply "I was just being polite"

When did politeness have a place in casual sex? What he did wasn't polite, it was just creepy. If they ask you to leave, it means that they want you to leave, they probably don't want you to come back the next the day to have a polite conversation and talk about the weather. I was always of the opinion that I wore the pants in the house hold. He was always about the cuddling and the loving whilst I was about the loving and leaving (and by loving I don't mean Loving, I mean do your hand holding then get the fuck out of my house so I can sleep)

I guess there is always the question surrounding one night stands that hangs over your head, do you bother with the phone number? I guess its some what polite to exchange pleasantries and say "I'll call you" but in reality is this not just a waste of time and some what of a false hope? In my experience they are generally terrible drunken intimacies that you would not want to replicate so why bother? Sometimes having the non chalant attitude towards adult relations can have its draw backs though, sometime things can happen where a phone number will come in handy or make thinks less awkward.

A few years ago on a trip to Tokyo I managed to come across an American Marine in a Dodgy little bar and being the filthy stop out that I was back then (because I am of the opinion that if it happens on holidays it doesn't actually really count) he some how managed to end up in my hotel room with me and we got adult. In the morning I did the right thing and walked him to the train station so he could find his way back to where ever it was that he had to go. On arriving at the station he asked for my number, I was flattered I really was, but I declined as I was "leaving Tokyo that afternoon" (which may not have actually been the case because in reality  I was leaving in another three days) but I was fairly certain that I would not see him again as I knew he only got one night off a week. It was to be the perfect crime...

Well you can imagine my surprise when two days later I was at the same drinking establishment when who happened to walk in but Mr Marine with a lovely looking lady *coughmancough* on his arm. See most people would have been embarrassed that they had lied to someone and been caught out but really I wasn't. I once again was in the position of power here, I was there looking amazingly gorgeous and he was there with a Tranny. Being the kind friendly person that I am, I walked over to him, said Hello and asked how his night was going? He looked embarrassed and then disappeared. Wonder why that was?

There was an experience recently that would have been better handled if we actually had exchanged numbers. Same old story, beer + Kerry = Adventure and I ended up spending the night at a gentleman's house (but we weren't intimate as his junk was unable to function). In the morning when all was said and done and the taxi was on its way I didn't bother with the false pretence of offering up my number. I casually picked up my stuff, headed to the door and fist bumped him on the way out. This in itself was cool, I knew that we wouldn't be seeing each other again, I had no desire to do the dance of lies and he wasn't really worth my effort (don't get me wrong, my standards had not dropped at all and he was gorgeous). The fist bump was kinda a condolence of "hey, your junk malfunctioned. Apparently that happens. Unlucky".

See that should have been the end of it, What made me change my mind on the no number guise was a few days later when I was sitting at work and realised that my very expensive, very sentimental diamond earring was missing. I tried not to panic and all through the day kept reassuring myself that my earring would be found in my bed. I got home and the search began... and sadly the earring did not show up. In reality there was only one place that it could be, but I had no way of finding out. Yeah I even tried the facebook stalking, but with no results. I guess I could go back to his house, casually knock on the door and be all like "hey so umm have you seen my earring" but really, we all know that one night stands mean one night and you have to expect some casualties of war eventually... we all know this right?

Sometimes I get worried about how easy this whole casual sex thing has become, I wonder how much of my soul has been destroyed from all of the terrible experiences with boys. I have a feeling that it is like a defence mechanism, the more I turn myself off the easier it is to save myself from being hurt. The longer they hang around the more likely I am to have to actually talk to them and really we all know that talking gets us no where. I guess there is always an exception to every rule and sometimes something catches us off guard and really I am not an exception to this rule. Mine came in the form of a tall green eyed bearded man, I went into it with the intention that it would be just some adult time between two adults and before I knew it I was in over my head. Lets just say it didn't end well for me... lesson learnt. Maybe I will make them take me out for dinner first next time... or ban myself from drinking

So the number, do you or don't you? I might go with maybe because it sure as hell beats a missing earringed tranny in a hotel lobby 

Love and Layings 

Miss K 

P.S I know that people probably think I am a terrible person (for probably more reasons than is listed in this post) but to my defence I didn't give the Marine my number because 1. He had a very annoying American accent that kinda made me want to punch him in the face (I didn't realise this until the beer haze wore off and the spell that his muscles had me under was gone) and 2. he had a dodgy Jap Eye.... instead of being where it should be it was on the bottom like a recorder.... that shit whack YO!!!!!

P.P.S Having a dodgy Jap Eye is actually a pretty common problem and its called Hyperspadia, it is normally fixed at a young age so its not a cosmetic issue later in life. I understand its a common problem, but it was in fact the first time (and only time) that I have encounted it. I probably wrote home about it and laughed about it a little bit 

P.P.P.S I totally wouldn't have sex with me, because I would probably make fun of myself and tell all my friends about me being a dud or the like. I guess this is a warning to guys. I can do a one night stand like no ones business but it doesn't mean I will keep my mouth shut about your junk. If its funny, be prepared to be fodder to my writing.... thems just the breaks 

P.P.P.P.S Its just a number, judge me if you will. But he without sin shall cast the first stone?

No Food is safe....

I have long thought that my parents didn't feed me when I was young because I always get so excited about food, and not just a little excited but excited to the point that every thought I have revolves around food and what I am going to put in my mouth next. This has forced me to come to realise something \and I am sure it is something that other people knew previously but its maybe taken me a bit longer to catch on (but if I am honest I guess I always had my suspicions). Drunk Kerry is a bad person, Drunk Kerry takes things that aren't hers and Drunk Kerry eats other peoples food straight out of their hands. How did this happen? When did I become this way? If it was an isolated incident then maybe I can forgive myself but its happens more often than is normal. Is there a rehab for serial food eaters? So here they are,  the good, the bad and the delicious

Clear white Liquid

The first incident of culinary ninjaring that I can remember happened outside of Australian Waters so possibly may not even count, it was around 3am on a busy Japanese Club street in Roppongi, I was walking between clubs and stumbled upon a group of guys standing out the front of a Familymart with Bowls of clear soup with "bits" in it. Like a curious puppy Drunk Kerry wandered up to them and enquired as to what they were eating. On being told, Drunk Kerry took the chop sticks from the mans hand and helped myself to some white tube thing that was floating in his soup. All three of the guys laughed, I handed back my chopsticks and kept walking. I don't think they knew what hit them and I certainly cant remember what it was that I ate (or if I liked it)

Roads Closed Pizza Boy

Pizza and Kebabs are normal drunken peoples choice food (or maybe its not choice but more so convenience) and this is great, because Drunken Kerry likes these things as well. Possibly not to eat all on her own but she is more than willing to share other peoples. On walking from The Deen to Voodoo Lounge one night I spied a Gentleman standing out the front of one of the late night Pizza shops with a delicious looking pizza in his hand. Drunk Kerry remarked "Pizza", he held it out in my direction so naturally I went to it, opened my mouth and took a bite. Apparently he had been trying to pull it back towards himself but I didn't want him to feel ashamed for being an Indian giver so I stayed committed to the cause. 

Dumplings to you Explode?

I met a Swedish guy the other night at a Melbourne Bar by the name of Victor, he was new to town and we chatted for a while. After many beers we decided that we were hungry and I suggest that we headed to the All You Can Eat Dumpling house next door from the bar. We sat down amd were the told the terrible news that you needed at least three people before you could have the all you can eat. My poor little heart sunk as I begrudgingly ordered off the menu and we waited for our food to come out. As you can imagine, it was hard going for me especially seeing everyone else getting the all you can eat dumplings and me having only a meagre 4 choices. Drunk Kerry would not stand for this. It just so happened that the table next to us was occupied by three young lads who were happily indulging in all you can eat Dumplings and talking of Politics. Luckily Drunken Kerry knows politics so on joining in their conversation I then started to help myself to their food. I managed to acquire a few things before they noticed, they laughed at my tenacity and we cheersed with our Spring Rolls (or theirs, it was actually all theirs). 

You want fries with that?

Probably the most recent bout of Food "Sharing" happened last Friday night after exiting the Bridge Hotel in Richmond. Drunk Kerry wanted a servo pie but was told that this would be a bad idea and Maccas would be better. Drunk Kerry got a lamb wrap of her own but was not satisfied by this and saw a man sitting with a cheeseburger. Drunk Kerry loves cheeseburgers so she sauntered over to the gentleman, bent down and took a bite out of his burger before standing up, cheekily wiping the sauce from her mouth while holding his eye contact (and if I am honest, he pulled out another cheese burger so I went back for round two. I did share my snakes with him though so it all comes out in the wash)

Its funny how all that drunken Kerry's thinks about is food (with a second thought to men) because one of Drunk Kerry's other favourite tricks is not eating. So this is the way it normally goes down, Drunk Kerry is starving, she knows exactly what she wants (generally Uncle Billies Chinese) and she must be taken there no matter at what costs. On arriving she will order one of each of her favourite dishes (Sang Far Chicken, Fish and Snow Peas, Chili Pepper Squid, Mixed Vegetables and steamed rice) and impatiently sit around until the food Comes. On the food arriving she will have two mouthfuls and proudly declare that she is full. Drunken Kerry is lucky that she has a drunken Best friend that puts up with this and will eat her share. 

I was just chatting with my house mate and she said that whilst Drunk Kerry's habits are a little bit strange its not all that bad because Drunken Kerry always make sure that she shares what she has as well. I guess you could call me Jesus, I break the bread to feed the hordes (or the fat chic at Maccas who took the most giant Bite out of my Lamb Wrap). As I said back in my first post all those months ago, life is about the people that you meet, and I sure as hell wouldn't meet as many people if they didn't have food that I wanted to eat. So maybe Drunk Kerry isn't so bad after all. You have been giving fair warning, if you have food and drunk Kerry is around, no one is safe.

I guess it just goes to show, with a bit of commitment anything can be possible. The common thread through all of this is the food and the eye contact. People aren't expecting it so if you keep eye contact with them the whole time, its more acceptable. Right? 

Love and Mastication 

Miss K 

P.S Mastication means chewing you filthy sicko

P.P.S I shall suggest that you pick your bites wisely friends, these things can really go either way. Some people may get cross at you helping yourself to their food so look for the crazy in their eye before you open your mouth

Ways to Fck up Important Situations

Whilst being the life of the party recently (translated, sharing witty anecdotes about myself to anyone that would listen)  it came to my attention that I have an uncanny knack of making important situations into hilarious disasters but really, I look at it as being a great way to break the ice. Important situations need an injection of fun as well right? And maybe also an element of apology. So here they are, my admissions and my apologies 

One of my first jobs when I was younger was working at the Greyhounds, I was there for about 5 years and ended up being a supervisor towards the end (good things come to those who work hard, or suck up maybe?) and on this one evening after a extremely large race it was my job to drive one of Australia's dogs and his trainer to the airport so they could head on their merry way home. This dog had preformed extremely well so as a reward I was asked to stop into McDonald's so that its owner could treat it with a soft serve and a cheeseburger (I shit you not) and then disaster struck.. 

I had only been driving for a few years and had never driven an Automatic. I was given a work issue Wagon and away we went. After collecting our food I went to pull out into traffic and had to brake before moving off so as procedure states I put my foot on the "Clutch" and the Brake to bring the car to a halt (clearly for those in the know Automatics don't have clutches). We stopped very sharply and the poor little pooch that had been happily sitting on the back seat came flying through the front seats and promptly smashed his little face into the windscreen. I have deduced that in my effort to touch both the brake and the imaginary clutch, both my feet contacted the brake pedal causing the car to lurch suddenly. I was mortified and immensely apologetic, I was certain that I had hurt the dog but thankfully he just wagged his tail and looked at me happily (thankfully Greyhounds are the happiest dogs on the planet) and his owner laughed. We got to the airport without further incident and I have never been so happy to get something out of my car then at that moment. I never followed the dogs career after that... I wonder how he went. 

Mr Greyhound Dog, I apologise for smashing your face into the Windscreen and potentially ruining your racing career

I was looking at changing jobs because I was getting a bit sick of mine so decided to go in and visit a recruitment agent to get some further career advise. The day of the interview rolled around, I had on my best work suit and was primped and preened ready to go. I some how managed to break my thumb nail (I had acrylic nails at the time) and didn't have time to go and get it repaired. I had a brainwave and thought I would sneakily glue it back on with super glue to get me through the interview looking presentable. This is a brilliant fool proof plan and I have done it many times since, but then disaster struck...

I rocked up for my interview and all was going well, we shook hands, we went through my resume and had a lovely old chat about the future of my working life. As our chat was drawing to a close we got up to leave the room and on going to push the chair in my nail got caught on the back of the chair and snapped. This in itself wouldn't have been so bad if the now broken nail hadn't snapped off with such force that it got air born and hit the consultant in the face. I was mortified and wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. The consultant was very good about it, she picked it up and handed the broken bit back to me and showed me the door. Funnily enough I never ended up getting a job through them, I cant figure out why though. 

Miss Interview Consultant Lady, I am sorry for flicking my acrylic nail into your face whilst trying to impress you. I forgive you for not getting me a job 

A few years ago I was seeing this guy for a few months (if you can really call it that), we had been friends for years and some how managed to hook up (even though I had told myself I wouldn't sleep with him). It was just one of those easy agreements where we would hook up every now and again, hang out and just be cool with each other. This arrangement ended when I met the army brat and we were both cool with this because we knew the score so neither of us were overly affected by it. After the break up with the army brat I decided that it might be important to get back on the "horse" so to say. For comfort reasons I gave my old mate a call to see if he wanted to go out for dinner. We ended up wining and dining and heading back to his house. I remember saying to him that I might cry but he laughed off my warning. But then disaster struck...

We had fallen asleep briefly and on waking up we started kissing and one thing moved onto another, inside my head I was filled with a deeply anguished burning pain but kept telling myself that I needed to do this in order to get over the Brat. I keep reciting to myself "you are ok, you can do this, you are ok, you can do this", but sadly this didn't really have the affect that I had wanted. The Boy remarked to me that I could smile a bit and that was the end of it, whilst he was still "connected" to me I started to cry. And I am ashamed to say that it wasn't just a little cry but uncontrollable crying. I chocked out "just keep going, I'm fine" but understandably he decided he wasn't up for it and stopped. I sat in his shower for about half an hour afterwards crying my heart out and when I got out we made a deal to never sleep together again and I can announce that we have stuck to it. 

Mr Man, I am sorry that I damaged your man hood by crying uncontrollably while we were having intimate relations. I promise to never flash my vagina at you again 

My mother is an artist and as such does lots of craft fairs and markets to pedal her wares. While I lived in Perth I helped her out at the bigger shows because whilst I could not actually walk the walk I sure as hell was good at talking the talk. One of the biggest shows that we do is the UpMarket which is at Winthrop Hall at UWA (you should all look it up and head along to it if you get the chance. They are awesome markets and have delicious foods). This one day, it was busy and I was under the weather. I had a lovely little cough burgeoning inside my chest which felt the need to escape at regular intervals. I would always excuse myself, turn around and cough and then go back to my serving. This was all working like clock work until a nice lady asked me if I was ok. And then disaster struck...

There is a very well respected women doctor in the suburbs around my old house that has a waiting list as long as my arm and who doesn't take new patients very often. I was lucky enough to get a registration and score an appointment with her to go and get my lady needs tendered to. This turned out to be the lady that had enquired as to my health. When she asked me if I was ok, I laughed and replied in my usual joking fashion "yes, yes I'm fine, just a nasty case of the herpes". She got a shocked look on her face and smiled awkwardly and walked off. It was when she had gone that my mum told me who she was. I was mortified, I had an appointment with her that week so she could tender my garden!!!! and I had just jokingly told her that I had herpes. I ended up cancelling my appointment and going to see another doctor. Whilst I didn't have herpes (and still don't) my Garden was so embarrassed that it just couldn't show its face to her. 

Mrs Lady Parts Doctor, I am sorry I made a joke about having herpes which caused me to cancel my appointment with you. I hope you didn't have any difficulty in filling my spot 

Through the use of hilarity and embarrassment, life has taught me lessons

1. There are no clutches in Automatic Cars 

2. Glueing your broken fake nail back together isnt a pearler of an idea 

3. Crying during sex is a real downer ( in more ways than one) 

and finally 

4. Jokes about Herpes, may not actually be fully 

She is a cruel mistress this thing called experience 

Love and Herp-d-herps 

Miss K 

How Hanson saved my Confidence...

With the dawning of the sun on a bright new day, memories have come flooding back to me like an incoming tide. Last night, well she was a good one. A bar on the other side of town, lines like "hey I'm from WA" and free booze out the wazoo (peppered with Martinis) it was destined to be a success. But there was one thing stopping us... My Confidence. There are times in every girls life when they probably don't feel as good about life as they should and at the moment I am feeling that I am in one of those slumps. Try as I may I have not been able to snap myself out of it, well that is, until last night.

I was casually sitting in a booth, having adult conversations and keeping to myself (please read talking excitedly to random people) when I heard strains of a familiar song emitting from the dance floor, could I be hearing correctly, could it be? YES, It was. With the speed and grace of a startled Gazelle I jumped from my seat just in time to make the dance floor to belt out "You have so many relationships in this life, only one or two will last". Yes you heard right, I was at a classy drinking establishment and they were in fact playing Hanson and you bet your bottom dollar that I got my groove on to it.

There has been much conjecture as to the viability of Hanson as musical greats, and right here and right now I would like proclaim loudly for once and for all, HANSON WILL SAVE THE WORLD. As you can imagine (though I think rather wrongly) people tend to give you strange looks when you are 29 and cutting shapes and singing Hanson at the top of your lungs and it was while this was happening that out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall chap laughing and smiling in my direction. When the song finished I sauntered over in his direction to ask what his go was. How in honesty could someone not like Hanson. 

I guess you are wondering what the Worlds best Musicians have to do with my Confidence, well if it had not have been for that song, I would probably not have gone and spoken with Mr Tall Bearded Man, he would not have asked for my number and I would not have eaten his cheese burger (well actually this could be a point of conjecture but I will get to this later). I walked away with a full belly, a spring in my step and soaring confidence. So to Hanson, I say thank you and if he doesn't call me, it would be the end of the world because he served his purpose

Its funny how songs pepper our memories, the first bars of a tune can pick us up and send us back to another time and another place. Hanson has been the start of two great memories for me, last night and a night last year in Tokyo in a deserted tiny back ally bar called Garlics, you can read about it here. Could Hanson possibly be the sound track of my life?

Other important musical interludes in my lift have included The Blast from the Past Soundtrack which was playing when I lost my virginity, David Grey was playing the first night I stayed at the Army Brats and the Queens of the Stoneage always remind me of the one that got away. I funnily just realised that I don't think I have ever had an "our" song with any of the guys that I dated... maybe that's the Universes way of saying that it wasn't right, because everything that is right should have its own song track? right?

Love and Plantings

Miss K

P.S As a funny side note, I was singing the line "Plant a seed, plant a flower, Plant a rose, you can plant any one of those" to Mr Tall when he smirked at me and told me that he was in fact a Landscape Architect so plants were his business... its sometimes strange the way that things work