Monthly Archives: August 2013

Tastes Just Like Chicken

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For those of you who are regulars on my blog, you will know that my 16 year old son wants a tattoo.  I was not quite in agreement with it but Daddy said he could have one.

So I have been delaying the inevitable – hoping that he would change his mind.  He brings it up at least once a week that we owe him a tattoo, so no hope there.

I decided a few days ago that I wanted a belly ring – it would look cool when I belly dance.  So of course I finally gave in and agreed that he could now have a tattoo and could have it done when I have my belly pierced.

We went out fairly early this morning for breakfast and a little shopping and also to visit the tattoo parlor.  Son no 3 has chosen the design of the tattoo he wants and I want to nip to the Harley shop to see if they have any belly rings for me.

At breakfast, Son no 3 suddenly blurts out that he doesn’t want a tattoo anymore.  Huh!  Is this the same kid…..    I quietly do a little happy dance in my head but don’t say anything.  No reason – he has apparently just change his mind.

We then head off to the Harley shop – they didn’t have any belly rings so I would have to go with whatever they had at the parlor.

On the way to the parlor, we start taking the piss out of my son for chickening out.  We suggest he gets a tattoo on his bum cheek.  He laughs.

I laugh and say it should say BITE ME.  He then comments that he is a little tender back there.

Hubby then suggests it should say BITE ME and under it should say I’m Tender!

Son no 4 then blurts out and says it should say “Tastes like chicken!”

Anyway, we eventually arrive at the tattoo parlor.  My stomach is now churning.  I am having second thoughts.  I take a deep gulp and go inside and there are 2 Russian women (not the butch sort – quite attractive actually!) – one at the counter and the other tattooing a man with huge biceps.  I notice the sign stuck on the wall – okay, now is the time to run!

I go up to the counter and ask about having my belly pierced.  She very nicely asks if I wouldn’t mind coming back in half an hour while she finishes off Mr Muscle.  So we go find a place to have a cup of tea.

We sit down and order the tea.  Now my stomach is in knots.  I need to find a bathroom!  I excuse myself.  I sit in the stall, quietly contemplating whether or not I should chicken out too.  I then decide that I can’t – I would never live it down with my sons.  I would have to go through with it.  I mean how bad can it be.  If teenage girls can do it, so can I!

So I sit back down and have 2 cups of tea.  Okay….. the moment has arrived!

We head back to the parlor.   Gulp!  I read the sign again.

The 2 Russians invite me in to sit down in the corner.  I anxiously ask if it will hurt.  They explain to me that it is so quick and it is like an injection.  I can do injections – I’m  not fond of them but I have no issues with needles in general.

So I sit down.  The one woman all of a sudden has a huge instrument in her hand – suppose it’s like a pair of forceps!

She then marks my belly button and puts the forceps over the marks.  Um….  that is uncomfortable!  She squeezes them tightly.  She then says I may now want to close my eyes as she is getting the needle out.  Okay, yeah, I may just want to not watch this part.  Final chance to chicken out!

I look away and think happy thoughts….

And 20 seconds later she says it’s done.  Oh, I say.  Not too bad at all.  There was no pain.

She then says it is not over.  She now has to put the jewelry in and that is uncomfortable.  OMW – when will it end!  So now I feel some tugging.  Yep – a little uncomfortable is the term!

2 Minutes later and it is all done.

So I am now the proud owner of a belly ring!  (Mine doesn’t look like this pic – slightly more swollen and well, you can clearly tell I have had 4 kids).

I have no pain.  I feel a little uncomfortable and guarding my stomach a little.  Definitely won’t be sucking my stomach in for a few days!.  But I did it.

So all I can say to son no 3 – CHICKEN!

I’m a Sucker for Bad Boys

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I’m starting to get really excited and cant wait for next week.  It is the start of the 6th season of Sons of Anarchy – my favorite TV Series.

Sons of Ararchy

We usually download it and watch it within hours of it being shown in the US.

I mean what is there not to like – blood / guts / gore/ sex / drugs / more sex / more drugs / more blood.  And let’s not forget – loads of guys on motorbikes!!!!  And loads of guys in leather!!!!

For those of you who are not familiar with the series – it is about the lives of a close-knit outlaw motorcycle club.  The show centers around Jax Teller (Played by Charlie Hunnam).  He has to be the sexiest guy alive at the moment.

Charlie Hunnam has become very popular and recently starred in Pacific Rim.   I think we will be seeing more and more of him in coming months.

Don’t Piss Me Off!

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I have a few pet peeves.  Some of the ones at the top of my list are (in no particular order)……

  • People who litter – This is the lowest you can go – really!  For F’sake put it in a trash can – how difficult can it be!
  • Banks – any bank / any department – I just generally have an issue with banks – and they have an issue with me clearly!
  • Call Center agents – Please don’t call me to ask for a donation or sell me something – I will be extremely rude and possibly insult you (the only time I ever insult anyone).

I have had 2 issues over the last 2 weeks with my bank – and just for reference, I bank with Standard Bank.  Probably won’t mean anything to most of you. 

Anyway, the FIRST issue is as follows:

I received a text message from my bank informing me that I am being handed over to attorneys for non payment of my Home Loan (Mortgage).  I ignore the first message.  Why?  Because I don’t have a home loan and it could be a hoax anyway.

I duly get another text message ….

So now I’m in a quandary – I’ve had issues before where I have ignored something from the bank and they end up going after you with more money than you can ever afford to fight them with.

Now bear in mind that they don’t phone me, I just get a text message!

So I take a deep breath and call them.
I wait for them to answer the call and I wait to be put through to the right person. 
They want my identification number.  Which I give them.
No, they have no record of having sent me a text message or any issues with any of my accounts.
So they ask for my mobile number to track the issue through that. 
So I give it to them. 
Ah the woman says – you must be Mrs XXXX. 
I reply that no, I am not Mrs XXXX (We’ve just had a conversation where I have given her my identification number and she has pulled up all my accounts and details – I only go by one name)
So after much debating, she finally agrees that this is my mobile number and apologizes and they will not send me any more text messages and she will leave a message on the system about our conversation.

I had this conversation on Monday – since then, I have had about 30 phone calls from the bank to my mobile all asking to speak to Mrs XXXX.
Not sure how to make it any clearer that I not Mrs XXXX and this is not her number – I have snarled it and shouted it – must be a hearing problem!

The SECOND issue:

I get a call yesterday from the card division informing me that my Mastercard is due for renewal in 2 months.

Okay – nice of them to let me know…..  and the conversation goes something like this:

Bank:  Where would your like your card delivered to?

Me: My home address please
Bank: Sorry but we cannot deliver it there
Me: Why?
Bank:  For security reasons
Me: What security reasons?
Bank:  We only deliver to the branches themselves
Me:  Um – surely it is safer to deliver into my hands than to a branch where 20 other people have access to it
Bank:  I don’t make the rules
Me:  I can go to 2 or 3 other banks who advertise the fact that they deliver your cards personally to you, so why do you not do this
Bank: I don’t know
Bank: So where would you like us to deliver the card
Me: To the XXX branch (where I opened my account and always transact from)
Bank: Sorry but that is not a full branch.  It is a satellite branch.
Me: So
Bank: So we can only deliver to a full branch
Me: So what was the point of asking me where to deliver my card to.  Why didn’t you just tell me where to fetch it from.
(I won’t expand on the rest of the conversation as I lost my cool)

Have you got any interesting banking stories you want to share?

Mega-Twits of the World Unite

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So I been trying to increase my twitter following just lately. The more I use twitter, the more I like it. I can scroll through all the tweets of the people I follow and just pick the ones I want to read and open the links I specifically want to read rather than trying to find loads of blogs and other articles on the web.

It is also great for promoting my blog as my followers get links to my posts and in turn their followers can see who they follow and well it is self perpetuating (in theory).

But you see this is where I see a problem – I see all these people with thousands of twitter followers

@lanthieransom
Click image to follow me!

and I have to assume they follow most of them back.

I currently follow about 250 Twitterers and  it would take me all day just to keep up with the tweets I get everyday – and believe you me I do actually try to get through as many as I can each day. I would never get any work done. Now I am not even talking about actually reading every tweet, I’m just talking about scanning and picking out the ones I want to actually read.

So am I being stupid and does nobody else have this problem. How do all these #mega-twits (my name for a person who has thousands of twitter followers) actually read or even attempt to read any tweets?

Jus sayin……

  

Tantalizing Tuesday – Francois Hougaard

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I’m not a great sports fanatic and know very little about famous South African sportsmen.  So I thought I would broaden my knowledge a little.

This is Francois Hougaard and he is a professional South African rugby union rugby player. His primary position is scrumhalf, but he has recently been playing on the wing for the Bulls. He won the Currie Cup in 2009, and the Super Rugby title in 2010, scoring tries in both finals. (Whatever that means!)

South African female members of a dating site voted him as the most sought after sport’s hottie.

Yummy is all I can say! (And don’t forget I’m a sucker for a guy on a motorbike!)

Cause it would be really cool!

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I have recently thought about getting a belly ring.  The concept is that it would be really cool to have one when belly dancing.

So with my mind pretty much made up, I thought I would mention it to my sons this morning in the car on the way to school – not that I need their permission or anything but it usually gets some or other vocal reaction when I mention these sorts of things to them.

Anyway, I duly mention it and I hear this loud NO from Son no 3 in the backseat.  What? I say.  He repeats the loud NO (sternly).

So I say: What do you mean by NO!

Son no 3 says:  NO, I’m not putting up with this anymore.

I say: What do you mean you’re not putting up with this anymore?  I’m confused as to what you are putting up with.

Son no 3 says:  I just can’t put up with this Shit anymore.  You’re just weird!

So that had me in stitches with laughter!

I then looked at Son no 4 in the front seat and said:  So you have nothing to say?

Son no 4, who is the brainiac in the family, head boy at school, cricket and hockey captain and well just an all round genius says:  (silence)

He just grinned and looked away.  So I said:  Aw come on, you must have something to say.

He replies:  No comment!

Suppose that is tacit approval.  Will be looking around for a suitable parlour this week!

Happy Endings

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So I followed a link to a blog post about 2 weeks ago which peaked my curiosity.  I very briefly read up about it and made a mental note to do a blog post about it.

Now almost 2 weeks later and I’ll be damned if I can find the original post.  Anyway….  The post was by a woman who had received an anniversary present from her husband and she tells us all about it.

Her husband gave her a gift voucher for a Yoni Massage and she tells us about her experience.  In conclusion she said although she was left a little cold by the experience, she would strongly recommend it.

I have never heard of the term Yoni before, never mind a Yoni Massage. 

So I’ve done quite a bit of research on it.

Yoni is a Sanskrit word for the vagina, and has different meanings such as “Gateway to Pleasure”,

“Sacred Temple”, “Sacred Space”, “Divine Passage” and “Temple of Delight”.  

Receiving a Yoni massage actually means that your “holy temple” is being worshipped.  A Yoni massage is also referred to as a sacred massage.

Our vaginas are not private parts of our body, nor are they separate parts to who we are, to only be invited to “come out to play” for special occasions.

Without the acceptance of the yoni and our sexual essence we cannot fully embody our soul and our passions into our daily lives. They are sacred parts of the body of which when seen and touched from a space of love are no different to any other part of your body that you allow touch, pleasure and healing.

Pleasure and healing come hand in hand, as our bodies relax and release withheld trauma and tension. Your shoulders, your neck, your jaw line holds the stresses and traumas of life …your yoni is no different.

But I must mention that the aim of the message is NOT an erotic massage with a happy ending.   The happy ending is a side effect (if you happen to have one and if you agree to go this far).  The massage is a tantric one, teaching you more about your body and how to relax it and how to pleasure it.  It helps to release all the sexual tension built up inside. 

The massage works with the innate body energy, the chakras on the front of the body and the Kundalini on the back. Sexual energy, is moved upwards, generally from the base chakra to the heart chakra on the front of the body and from the base of the spine up the back.

Every part of the body is touched, as Tantra includes everything and does not exclude anything.

I have looked at loads of parlours that offer a yoni (or sacred) massage.   Some therapists seem to do it fully clothed but it does seem that in the more authentic parlours, the therapists are naked, just like you.  This is to embrace the spirit and put you on the same level.  There are no secrets. (and no you are not allowed to touch the therapists)

It apparently has the following benefits (and I quote):

  • Supports a woman in witnessing & accepting emotional pain be that from sexual trauma, abuse, difficult sexual relationships or trauma experienced in childbirth.
  • It supports the healing process of:
  • – Painful menstruation,
  • – Irregular menstruation,
  • – Infertility,
  • – Low sex drive, (lack of Labido)
  • – Pain in sexual intercourse,
  • – The inability to feel safe in one’s own skin
  • – Lack of trust in relationships,
  • – Lack of respect for one’s own sexuality, reducing promiscuity.
A sacred massage is also offered  to couples and can help couples who are in a sexual rut.  It helps strengthen your relationship with your partner with:
  • An ability to trust
  • A willingness to be vulnerable,
  • An ability to surrender,
  • A connection of rich depth and unity
  • Nourishing & satisfying sex for the mind, body and soul.

And it is apparently very good for menopausal women!

So I have an anniversary coming up next month – wonder if dear hubby will be adventurous enough to give me a gift voucher?

A Question, For Sport

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Right, time for a quiz.

What is a quiz?

Well?

A quiz, I hear you cry, is a load of tricky questions, asked by some smug bloke in a pub, the point of which is to enable you to win a bottle of Scotch or a leg of lamb.

Or a TV show where a famously smug bloke asks desperately cheerful families in shellsuits how many people they think might have the same inane opinion on something as they do.

Or it’s sitting in a spotlit chair, answering questions about things you really should know the answers to, having thought about those same things To The Exclusion Of Everything Else for the last three months, making you a pariah amongst anyone who won’t “test me on the history of lampposts of the UK (1879-2005), go on, ask me anything”

No, in fact it’s a discussion about graffiti.

Many words are made up.
Now, that sounds like a bit of a fatuous statement, but quite a lot of words come from a root of some sort, often in a completely different language i.e. Latin, French, etc (In the case of America, of course, most of it came from somewhere else. Although they seem to have a creative way with spelling sometimes)
But that’s ok, we’ve got a sense of humor about it.
But sometimes, new words come along that supersede any ancient root, which is why new words are always being added to the dictionary – yuppie, girl power, chav, all words that have fallen into language through repeated common usage.
My absolute favourite example of this is the story of an Irishman called Daly.
This 18th century Dublin theatre manager bet his mates that he could introduce an entirely new word into the English language, a word with no meaning whatsoever.
Well, his friends took him up on the bet as he was obviously onto a loser with such a ambitious scheme.

So Daly set about his plan without delay, spending the following several hours criss-crossing the city, leaving his enigmatic message wherever he went.

Within hours, people all over Dublin were discussing it, and the subject became such a hot topic that a newspaper ran a story about the graffiti epidemic.
At which point, Daly’s friends had to concede, as everyone was talking about the “quiz” and what it might mean. In fact it went on to be a subject of discussion all over Ireland, and England, for months afterwards.

The word has since been taken to mean the seeking and receiving of answers.
So the next time you see someone looking at you with a quizzical expression, you can tell them why.

dalecooper57 – www.diaryofaninternetnobody.com/