KerrieJean.com

Oh how the sexy….the dewy…..the comely…..the definitely-not-scungy…..have fallen………

And it’s not my fault……

Quite the opposite.

I’m refusing to participate on the grounds of dignity and inappropriateness.

Simply put, I am sick to death of sitting around tables groaning with rice crackers [as close to ingesting cheap foam eskies as you can get] and listening to what’s allegedly wrong – and what is surely going to go wrong – with bodies of a certain age.

['Can't wait to show you my latest snaps': cr: Keene & Cheshire County: flickr]

God help me, the bleatings are coming from reasonably intelligent women who, it seems, only last week were breathlessly outlining development blueprints for the Gaza Strip, declaring the Karma Sutra ’unchallenging’ ……

And  joyfully guzzling bubbles at rates wildly beyond those in Pacific Rim ’acceptable guidelines’ pamphlets. 

Now, x-rays of  twisted tibia, atrophied inner thighs, sagging sphincters, back-firing bosoms and flaky toenails are breathlessly passed around for urgent comment – and comparison.

Make no mistake though….

The diagnosis – for example – of Charlotte’s back-firing bosoms with distended underarms – is already in.

And it wasn’t a traditional practitioner of medicine who raised the alarm.

Charlotte’s back-firing bosoms with distended underarms are being closely monitored by her specialist herbalist [Gavin is a  'Basilist'] and, in a more holistic fashion, by her psychologist, Manfred.

The charismatic Manfred, from day one, was very direct.

‘I can’t do anything about back-firing bosoms with distended underarms,’ he said.

‘But you are obviously very angry, very bitter and I can help you with that if  you’ll just sit down, take a deep breath and try to act your age……..

‘ Try thinking about other people for a change………

‘Think about how they might see you……..

‘Think about why you’re not being asked out…..

‘Why even your family finds you current behaviour abhorrent………’

Isn’t Manfred just wonderful?

I am opting out of all middle-aged mind and body talk.

Unless it’s tumour-based or involves professionals in white coats armed with taser guns: very, very serious.

By the way, I’ve lost my glasses and am typing with my nose on the screen.

Never one to blow my own trumpet but this is professionalism of the highest order.

After I finish this piece, I will use Windex to clean my human [read 'natural'] residue from the screen.

But I won’t be pathologising what many of you may find an uncomfortable truth.

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If you liked/hated this little piece you might like/hate this one:

http://www.kerriejean.com.au/2010/05/culture-wars-bachelorhood/

My goodness…….my goodness me.

I’m glad I got that off my chest.

I really would be pleased to hear from sensible folks also sick of talking about trivial bodily thingos.

Have you been forced to drop friends because of it?

Or do you join in  [just to be sociable?]

If you’ve really got something very embarrassing happening with your bod, I guess I’ll read what you’ve got to say – and perhaps even offer some advice if I see fit.

So, write to Miss Kerrie Jean now because she really would like to feel of some use at this time of her life. Help her out by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

The most conservative predictions are that even a 300 percent increase overnight in virgin olive oil exports cannot save Spain………….

And if Italy immediately launched a singing tomato onto a world crying out for novelty salad items  - it would count for nowt.

Last time, we were going down on the back of eight bedroom brick veneers in Pittsburgh revalued at $4,499….

Now, it’s even far harder to come to terms with.

For it’s the Siesta funster economies -  Spain, Portugal, Italy and Greece – in the International Court of Dire Straits.

[Siesta Aggression cr: US National Archives: flickr]

I knew, I just knew that the callous cogs of end-stage capitalism would catch up with the Siesta……

……That the ugly claws of commonsense,  the pincers of pragmatism would grope through the sweet lace curtains of modest casas and villas…….

….Cruelly poking and prodding millions of mamas and papas and most inappropriately, even Aphrodites and Adonis, deep in Siesta bliss……

…….Subjecting these soft folk to taunts of a most despicable nature.

‘No more Siestas, no more Siestas…….

‘No more, no more of the nifty napping of ones who toil gently till noon……

‘Then sup on prawns and squid and take libations of many colours….

‘Then  fall down – with subsidised UV cream from tip to toe – to take the Siesta ……..

‘No more Siestas, NO MORE  Siestas..!’

So……as you peruse your portfolio….. with eyes a-bulgin’ and legs-a-shakin’……….

Try to keep some composure.

Remember:

You’re only human…..

And one of the most human things is [and always has been] that when your little world is a-collapsin’ you gotta blame someone – or something………

Think about that composure.

Open your kitchen window – and shout:

I BLAME IT ON THE BLOODY SIESTA!

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There you have it………

Isn’t it strange?

More often than not we get our knickers in a knot trying to work out why certain things are happening - when all the time, it’s usually caused by something *pretty simple.

*The ageing process, of course, being THE big exception. Very complex. Very complex indeed……..

So……..have you experience of dangerous Siestas?

Perhaps even in situ…..?

Are you personally implicated in GFC Mark 68 because you’ve spent time in a Siesta-based culture and did nothing to change it?

Finally, are you going broke?

Please report in – it’s fun and best of all, costs nothing…….do it now, do it by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Monday 1700

Hypocrites Week Programme Released!

So, SO  busy am I…..

I’m only now in a position to release our Hypocrites Week programme of no less than THREE  power packed activities.

The great thing?

They can all be conducted in your workplace, home or car at a moment’s notice.

*Simply mount your work desk, car seat or home entertainment system –  and shout:

Hypocrites Week Activity…….come closer!

…..And away you go……….

Activity (1)

Give participants paper/tell them to write down the name of the Biggest Hypocrite in the office/lounge room/car.

Count.

Read out the name with the most votes.  Say loudly:

“It’s sure been a great Hypocrites Week journey for you but unfortunately today/tonight that journey has ended – and you’re going home [or somesuch].”

Monitor closely how the Biggest Hypocrite reacts.  VERY telling………

Hypocrites Week Activity #2

For two hours straight, loudly tell everyone you come across that you donate 46% of your income to charity…….and  would be doing even more if circumstances permitted.

Quickly walk away.

Count the percentage of  flummoxed and/or angry people who attempt to stop you.  Write down what they say. VERY telling……………

Hypocrites Week Activity #3

Inform your boss you’ll be off work for at least 17 weeks because you’re having a facelift purely in ‘the interests of enhancing corporate image’.

Fill in the relevant forms. Await call from Human Resources.

Write down what the HR operative says. VERY telling………..

Go to it! [And don't forget to tell us how you went]

*For those of you who haven’t yet registered for Hypocrites Week, read on!

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We are apparently deep within in A Frightful Era Of Hypocrisy……

…..Self-proclaimed environmentalists turning their modest cottages into solar powered residences the size of French chateaux ‘because their architects said anything smaller wouldn’t get the sun…….’  

……Women declaring the ageing process ‘liberating’ while their botox addiction reaches criminal proportions…….

……….Politicians declaring they’re very privileged to be in such positions of privilege but complaining bitterly about their grossly inadequate postage stamp allowances…….

Thing is: 

I am a Hypocrite.

[An attack of truth vapours: cr: Powerhouse Museum: flickr]

Further,  just like Mr Bierce [see below] I’m suggesting that getting about my daily business would be at best chaotic, at worst, nigh impossible if I wasn’t.

[Politeness, noun.  The most acceptable hypocrisy. Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, 1911]

For example:

I get invited to all-women Lingerie parties - and, being the sort of person Mr Bierce applauds, I go.

….Which is far better than ringing up and saying:

‘Don’t, don’t do this to me!  Don’t make me sit around – with a mouthful of jatz and a big pot of guacamole dip - oooooohing and aaaahing at NASA-manufactured bras and knickers with secret properties…please don’t.’

Or:

I run into folks who have not treated me kindly in past dealings.

They are of both genders and they’ve usually made nasty comments about my personal presentation.

Usually along the lines of: ‘I think women over 38 with long hair think they can get away with it…..but really, they are terribly misguided……terribly……’  

I say: ‘Hello’.

Which is far better than:

‘You, many years ago, hurt me like no other and now you must pay [flick hair in face].

So, I am sick to death of reading about how the wanton hypocrisy of politicians, parents, the Catholic Church [all right, all right could be a special case] botox addicts, meat eaters, steeple chasers….is threatening everything from drinkable water to orderly behaviour in  ‘12 items or less’ supermarket aisles.

I hereby declare ‘Hypocrites Week’ open………

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So, join in the ‘Hypocrites Week’ celebrations.

Suggestions for activities most welcome!

Or perhaps you’re NOT a hypocrite – very, very interested to hear about your lifestyle.

Throw caution to the wind. Report in now by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Can’t tell you exactly what number wave of Feminism we’re up to but I can tell you this…..

The biggest dumper ever has just rolled in.

….I get about and in my dealings I have one rule - and one rule only:

I’ll listen to anyone who’ll listen to me.

All this week?

Men of all levels of attractiveness [hideous to hot] all levels of income [$0 to $00000000000000]  and all levels of reactions to seeing me [titillated to deeply distressed] desperate to declare what they want in women……

And what they want is the world’s most ruthless pastry deflector, Wendi Deng.

[I quit! Cr: Daleberts: flickr]

Sure [I say] Miss Deng has the reflexes of a woman one quarter of  her husband’s age…..she presents quite well……she has a sweet smile when she’s not deflecting pastries……..

….But come now, what does Miss Deng have – other than a man with $$$$$ and very good contacts in British Telecom - that other women [just like me] do not have?

Sure [they say] but Miss Deng  fights for her man…….deflects dangerous pastries……packs mean punches…………

They all say: I want my woman to do that for me.

So, no less than a critical juncture – the ‘Deng’ moment – in the appalling  history of gender relations.

With studies showing that men still only wash up 1.7 % of available dirty dishes worldwide, they’re now refusing point blank to rescue any more damsels in distress.

And the new demand is that women come out swinging in their defence.

Je refuse.

I’ve been out with many, many, many men who kindly, kindly, kindly folk took it upon themselves to forewarn me about.

……..Too bald, too hairy, too nice, too horrible, too comfortabe, too wretched, too immature, far too immature etc, etc, etc.

And the kindly, kindly, kindly folk were right.

The behaviour of the too-this-and-too-that fellas could generally be described as ‘indefensible’.

But I never ‘did a Deng’.

Never defended the indefensible.

I just went round and picked up my quarter bottle of Mum, old cottontails,  favourite sports bra and latex balaclava – and cleared off.

Pride, ladies and gentlemen, pride.

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So now, men want women to defend them…….?

I don’t know – sometimes life is all too much……..

…..I was brought up on the Gallipoli story….

I mean, aren’t fellas supposed to come out swinging on my behalf?

Wendi Deng’s behaviour – and the way men have reacted to it - is very confusing……

Or is it just me…..?

Come out swinging……it’s [apparently] easy……..do it by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Have just crawled from my bed to the keyboard…….

Why not keep it simple – and walk?

Because I can’t………

Because there’s appalling issues with my [usually reliable] legs…..

….Simultaneous horrendously painful muscle twitching and contractions, deep vein thrombotic knees,  putrid ankle rot,  fissues in the intimate upper inside thigh region………

Why?

Because I’ve just returned from a restorative jaunt to the  Blue Mountains World Heritage listed nature playground where my dear friends insisted I walk.

And being a person who always puts the needs and wishes of others’ before mine, walk I did.

['There's very little to see up here.' cr: University of Washington: flickr]

I am fuming.

I walk every day, mainly from my desk to the staff snacks’ fridge and from the ABC Complaints Department back to the lift before walking in an orderly manner back to my desk.

Why should I walk when I’m relaxing,  getting my dangerous tension/hypertension levels down a notch?

I do that by not walking.

By lying prostrate in World Heritage locations with Sara Lee’s complete product range within arms reach…….

By watching DVDs of my favourite romantic comedies……..’The Shining’,  ‘Silence of The Lambs’ and [and yes, yes, I know it's borderline] ‘Sleepless In Seattle’.

Then……

‘You can’t  lie there all day watching grossly inappropriate material for such a sensitive women…………you’re going for a walk. Get up!’ 

So I do my annual Dunlop Volley Walk.

Along ravines in which the bounties of drought-breaking rains cascade as if God had come back with long, peroxided locks…….

….Up rugged mountains where exquistite native bluebells clutch prehistoric boulders…..

[........Surely, most surely, they would cry out for help if bluebells could talk.......]

……And down, down dark and slippery tracks cradled by bedazzling arrays of moss……..

 And I know, I know as surely as I know the Leeton Redlegs will not be in this year’s grand final, that only one, only one track  will end…….back at the carpark.  

I have done my walk.

Now it seems I may never walk again.

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Is it in our nature to like nature?

Should walking in World Heritage listed areas be banned?

Why, oh why, has it become so hard for people to admit that walking is just not their thing?

****There’s a great untold history of Australian walking  horror stories.

Stop the cover up now. Tell yours. You owe it to yourself – and me.

Do it by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

URGENT UPDATE:  Monday.

The full story about my psychosexually-driven bargain shopping End Stage Carbon Producing Economy frenzy was written in good faith. [see below]

I did pay SOMETHING for my goods – albeit not much.

Then, I awake to this news.

And…….my already crippling case of Affluenza goes up a notch……

……..Fever pitch itchiness, frightening mood swings of  excitement/despair/hope/doom/love/scorn and most alarmingly……for the very first time in my beautiful life……..a strong desire to have been born a New Zealander……..

http://www.theaustralian.com.au/australian-it/dick-smith-nz-web-glitch-offers-free-goods/story-e6frgakx-1226092196665

God help me.

[Now read on - if you're still able to sit upright......]

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On the historic day Australia pledged urgent action towards a smaller thong print, I went barking mad……

……..I am the the most serious case of Affluenza ever reported.

The discoverer of the mysterious and crippling affliction that is Affluenza, Dr Clive Hamilton, should be informed forthwith…….

I demand to be quarantined……

I am a threat to myself and all right-thinking citizens who, in the interests of ethical consumer restraint, deserve to know what I did.

Okay.

Today, I fell through my door with 56 environmentally friendly bags stuffed with intimate and ‘everyday’ apparel from scores of big city Pacific Rim fashion emporiums.

['I'd like some mutton to dress as lamb.' Cr: Museum of Hartlepool: flickr]

I purchased the aforementioned in an exhausting personal psychosexual End Stage Carbon Producing Economy  frenzy.

Why, why why?

Because…because….because of global warming, Winter only lasted an unseasonably short four days meaning everything was 90 to 98 percent off. 

I feel so goddamn low, so goddamn hollowed out, so……so….so………goddamm shallow.

These are the highlights of what I’m left with:

*Size 8 red windcheater with fake fur novelties on hood, cuffs and collar.

Resulting Look: Mad Asphyxiated Moose.

*Size 16 Cheeky Big/Little Black Dress.

Resulting Look: Depression era St Josephite nun grappling with humiliating habit malfunction.

*Size 12 cropped fake leather jacket.  

Resulting Look: Ageing Bandido at mother’s funeral.

*Size 14 pair French flared dress pants:

Resulting look: Eiffel Tower in force 60 gale.

*Size 12 short merino wool skirt.

Resulting look: Merino riding right up on the back….of me.

Selection of day and ’special occasions’ brassieres of various sizes:

Resulting look: Indiscernible. 

[Danger, DANGER!  Too, too small brassiere collection demonstrating potentially fatal slingshot capacities]

So there you have it….

Australia tries to save the planet.

I try to present myself in a reasonably dignified fashion……..

……..Only to acquire the most alluring Vinnie’s bag ever collected.

For new members of our vibrant kerriejean.com community, if you loved/hated this little piece you’ll most likely love/hate this one. It’s all about my wedding dress.

http://www.kerriejean.com.au/2009/10/kjs-wedding-dress-is-off-at-moruya-airport/

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Dearie me…….

Impetuousness is my only  flaw but gee, it’s a very bad one to have.

Humiliation is so often the result.

The best thing I can do is offer good advice.

(a) Try on potential purchases (b) don’t buy anything reduced by more than 90 percent and (c) be honest about your age and body shape.

I know, I know……all terribly disturbing things to do but trust me, the alternative doesn’t feel very nice….not very nice at all.

Looking forward to hearing from about anything insignificant happening on your patch……shopping horror stories most welcome…..

It’s easy to share your distress – simply by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.