A christmas in Wales
And so I hear the rest of the story in the dulcet tones of Dylan Thomas...
I need eyebrow-singeing and cat-injuring context, dammit.
I tried to turn this into an entertaining story in my head, but in fact my dad was drunk, my cat was digging in his veggie patch, so he shot it. Frankie did survive: he was one of those kick-arse ginger toms that are built like Sherman tanks, and it was only a .22.
There was an amusing story about the time all the piglets escaped just before my mum had to pick my dad up from rehab, but I'm concerned about how much I'm starting to sound like a redneck. Almost as much as Danielle.
Ahem... just to clarify my clarification: I was actually attempting to explain away the limitations of my own stupidity. Breast jokes, if any, were completely unintentional...
I'll shut up now before I inadvertently say anything worse.
Fair do's, I should stop winding you up in public.
But actually, my initial email encounter was a bit of an eye-opener for me in terms of prejudice I hadn't noticed. Every one of my female on-line friends freaked out that there was some guy I'd never met offering me stuff. The level of paranoia was so high that poor David got branded 'my stalker' for about a year.
Because he was a man on the net. And they're all creeps and pervs.
In person, it would be completely impossible to mistake you for a man -- even allowing for my failing eyesight...
Dude, way to make me blush.
The last time I was out on the turps I met this guy who was a friend of the lawyer who kept showing me her nipple piercings. He felt it necessary to constantly reiterate his opinion on the excellence of my breasts. After a while I said to him, listen, I'm starting to feel a bit diminished, it's like you can only see my tits. He thought about it quite seriously for a minute and then said, 'you have a nice stomach too'.
Class (I'm just guessing) and family/partner violence, aren't related to demographics? Not sure I get it.
Defining 'class' at the time is a tricky one. And the majority of the people copping it in my family were male.
I think what I'm trying to say is that I find I have more in common with people who've had the same experiences than me than those who share the same tick-boxes. I'm also wary of the way demographic trends lead to over-simplications: that domestic violence is a lower-class problem, or something that happens to women. While by and large it's true, it also makes a bunch of victims invisible. It becomes very easy to forget that there are a bunch of men wandering round who were kicked around as kids.
But I also have a fundamental obligation not to drag my family's private issues out in public.
Depends if it was done in an ironic 'geez, this cake's a bit dense' way, or in more of a 'Heeeeere's Johnny!" Jack Nicholson manner.
Aiming for the former, succeeding in the latter. I think he was also aiming for ironic when he shot my cat.
I mean, my arteries are now, fundamentally, aluminium tubing filled with chicken wire and shortening, but it was worth it.
Metaphor of the week, right there.
Your first Christmas with kids who are old enough to appreciate it is, well, magical. Awesome. I have photos somewhere of my fourteen month old son ripping into his first Christmas stocking, and the sheer joy on his face is cynic-melting.
This morning I found my ten year old daughter's secret letter to Santa. It started off with 'Do you really exist? I don't think you do' and progressed to 'List of Stuff I Want'. Nothing wrong with covering your bases...
And I was going to tell the hil__ar__ious story of the time my partner gave me a cardboard Chris Cairns, and then I remembered that was a birthday present...
(Or am I the only person with nutbar relatives?)
Define 'nutbar'. My dad put an axe through the Christmas cake one year.
I want to hear more about the terrifying amounts of porn, or was it the amounts of terrifying porn?
A regular pornami. A pornado. Desert Porn. Californipornication.
Actually, some of it is just... a bit much. Are you familiar with the term 'squick'?
Maybe if you just sort of crouch down a bit?
Ha, I hadn't thought of that. I think I was sixteen the last time someone suggested that, when they couldn't find a Gratiano tall enough to play opposite my Nerissa.
Hazards informed guess: because you have to be a particular stripe of brave to use your real name for that stuff?
Absolutely. Not that any of the people I knew then can type or have found teh internets, but yes, brave, and also I'd think over it to some degree.
The Dropkicks aren't after a token as such, we'd like someone just like us but with a "women's perspective". ie. Able to talk bollocks while not possessing any.
It's true some women do have a different perspective on rugby from most men. We're still trying to work out if the Hurricanes can retain their title of Prettiest Super Rugby Franchise with the departure of Tana Umaga.
To be very slightly less facetious, Melodie Robinson is fantastic. There must be another one of those somewhere.
Gender Genie thinks I'm a man.
Lovely post, Emma. Tell me you will be writing more, pleeeeease?
GG thinks I'm a man when I write non-fiction and a woman when I write fiction. I'll admit to being a little dubious about its methodology.
And thank you. I do write all the time, every day. Just normally I use words like 'gasped' more...
No, the real horror story is that you're a Cantab. And that means you fight in the streets, marry your own children, own a banjo and have just purchased a season ticket at Telstra Stadium.
I was going to write a blisteringly sarcastic rejoinder to this, then I realised I have been in a couple of street fights. Just not in Chch.
A really entertaining first post. I hope it isn't the last.
My mother warned me about men like you. Slip me a twenty and I'll think about it.
Or, thank you.
I've sat in a cocaine dealer's trailer and listened to guys howl aggressively at pay-per-view boxing. Does that count?
I'm saying 'yes'.
Also, to quote David Cassidy, I think I love you.
Excellent. That' going to push Russell's Official Diversity Rating right up.
But then I think we may be required to become members of some sort of cabal? And run the country. Which sounds like way too much effort for a)this time of year, and b)me.