KerrieJean.com

Dearie me, old sad sack that I am……always takes me at least 10 days to get back into the depravity of big city life after ’summering over’ in The Riverine…..

So - as uusse – I’m downright twitchy……

One minute I’m gonna clean out the fridge, the next I’m opening a plus-size frock emporium on Pine Avenue, Leeton, then I’m getting six spotty new cushions to give this dump a lift – and then I’m right back on Pine Avenue as the owner-operator of The Riverina’s first carbon neutral Unisex Brazilian Waxing Rooms……. 

 ‘Tell ‘em KJ’s Dreamin!’ (Cr: Meredith James: flickr)

And please, PLEASE don’t think you’d be the first to front me with this novel piece of advice:

‘WELL IF YA LIKE IT SOOOOO MUCH WHY DON’T YA LIVE THERE…?!’

And the answer is……because maybe, just maybe we love where we come from because it’s the only place we can still be ruffled, perturbed, all shook up - DISCONCERTED.

Some recent examples of Riverina DISCONCERTION in action……

* I’m disconcerted when my big handsome nephew (who as a youngun’ thought all my deadbeat boyfriends were fascinating) appears with his traditional greeting:

‘Gettin’ any babe?’

*I’m disconcerted when ex-classmate Barb (looking a million bucks) approaches me in the Intimate Apparel aisle of The Reject Shop:

‘I’m great KJ, still with hunky carp farmer Steve. Kids all grown up.  All rocket scientists. Nearly didn’t recognise you. GEE, THE YEARS CAN BE CRUEL….’

* I’m disconcerted when Gwennie grabs the pegs: ‘THIS IS HOW YOU HANG OUT A PAIR OF KNICKERS.’ You’ve never understood something pretty basic KJ: ‘IF IT’S WORTH DOING IT’S WORTH DOING WELL….’

*And I’m EXTRA disconcerted when in 43-degree heat I’m lugging a couple of Woolies bags (full of diet Fanta) past St Joseph’s Church and just for a moment think: WONDER IF CONFESSION IS ON…..

And (just for a moment) I imagine putting the diet Fanta aside and going into dark box and knelling down and waiting for the little curtains to separate….and then telling the priest it’s been a ‘long time no see’ but I’m here to come clean and I’m a bit DISCONCERTED because a lot of what I’m about to say isn’t pretty, if not downright disgustin’….

Priest:  ‘So child, I gather we won’t be humming along to I Love You Just The Way You Are  by the time we’re finished in here….?’

And then I pull myself together. And Barb’s words are back:

GEE THE YEARS CAN BE CRUEL…..

So, let’s all hope that this year we’ll all experience more of the exquisite jolt that is DISCONCERTION. 

*Looking forward to hearing from you – disconcerted or not. Perhaps you’re experiencing free floating disconcertion which I’ve read is the trickiest of them all. That’s, of course, apart from when you turn up for work after the extended hols and the fruitcake from down the corridor appears: ‘If there’s just ONE person I’m happy to see……..’ 

**El Gingero & The Sundance Kiddo**

Talk about disconcertin’!

The Ginger Man has gone awl Western like……and the results? Sen – SATIONALE!

El Gingero -  He’s Drinkin’, He’s Talkin’ Big,  He’s Woman-I-sin’, He’s Shootin’ from his hip flask – right now in our comments section….

All posters take a deep breath…..and just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow 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 – just ignore it.

First, a message: I hope you don’t find this story gratuitous in these most uncertain of times. I am well aware that, for mum and dad investors, bouts of vigorous lovemaking are probably the last thing on their minds.

HOWEVER: There’s been lots of hoopla surrounding the recent publication of an updated version of the 1972 ‘how to’ bedroom classic, The Joy Of Sex. Click here for: Sample of hoopla

Sadly, the man who authored, The Joy Of Sex, Dr Alex Comfort, was working so hard on the New Joy, he died on the job. So, it was the British sexologist, Susan Quilliam, who brought the new tome to publication.

When news came through that there was a New Joy, I immediately set about doing what I do best: reading about sex. Night after night, I poured over the New and Old Joys, undertaking exhaustive textual analysis. My mission? To compare, to contrast, to find out how sexual procliviites had changed in the period bookended by Gough and Kevins’ elections.

For many nights, my ‘compare and contrast’ mission threw up nought. Both Joys are full of explanations and drawings of several hundred very weird and confronting coital positions. Both Joys still mention specialities like pattes d’araignee, croupade cuissade and Viennese oysters. I thought pattes d’araignee al least sounded achievable. But, when I quizzed my favourite fella at my local Woolies about ingredients, he looked blank. So, by the time I returned to my research, I was very, very despondent.

Then: Paydirt. Great Paydirt. This is what I threw up. The Old Joy has no less than four pages on how to conduct oneself, how to avoid making a fool of oneself at orgies. May I quote?

Orgies need hell of a lot of martini lubrication.  A warning though: They tend to be run by liberal intellectuals who invariably end up talking rather than doing. Hence we can well believe that the best orgiasts are the prosperous upper middle class, minor jet setters and showbiz types. (Comfort, A, MD,PhD, pp,168-172, The Joy Of Sex, Simon and Schuster, Fireside Book, 1972, sic).

The last known orgaists (image credit : ClintJCL - flikr)

Then, Dr Comfort nailed his theme in no uncertain terms:

There is no reason why sex should not be social if you wish …there could also be complications and anxieties, but there can always be complications, even at bridge parties…..

But, by 2008 The New Joy signalled a complete turn around. All references to the sensual, Socially Inclusive world of orgiasts, had been wiped clean. And why? To quote:

Because, in general, society accepts the norm that sex happens in the private realm between two people.

And so, The New Joy strongly advises to keep even threesomes or foursomes, let alone sixtytwosomes, to the realm of fantasy.

So, my  ’compare and contrast’ assignment had delivered big time but I knew my toughest, most draining work had just begun. For 16 days, one question overrode my routine creepy thoughts: WHY had orgiasts been excluded from the overarching policy of Social Inclusion?

My conclusions?

* The Rudd, and other western democratic governments, are waiting to see what emissions trading schemes will look like before inviting orgiasts to the table.

* Crippling petrol prices mean that millions of orgiasts have excluded themselves from what used to be their favourite tilt at Social Inclusion. Trips across town for just another orgy, can no longer be justified.

* Orgiasts of the prosperous middle-class first identified by Dr Comfort in 1972, now have pitiful bodies. Millions are finding even twosomes, very hard yakka. Still more have been brought low by society’s fetishistic worship of youth and perfection. For these former orgiasts, even rare bouts of one-to-one lovemaking, are only just tolerable.

I’d love to you to help me with my on-going research. Did the orginal Joy Of Sex change your life or did you think it was bit much? Should Bunnings – the king of DIY - stock the New Joy Of Sex? Should any right-thinking society ban orgiasts, menage-a-troisists and swingers from seeking any Government funding for projects falling under the Social Inclusion banner? Or perhaps, you attended your first orgy when your excitement levels peaked after your very first Moratorium march and you have no intention of stopping. Love to hear from you too, you devil….

Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place when you 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 you just ignore the ‘website’ space – not necessary!

Many women are lapping up my advice on how to get a workable Summer wardrobe together in difficult times. Just click on this thingo for a recap: Throw Everything Out!

Funny the way things work but that story prompted many equally fragile men to approach me for urgent counsel. Namely:

KJ, DO YOU HAVE A POSITION ON SPEEDOS?

Well, they lucked in because I most certainly do have a position on Speedos and it’s unequivocal!

From my understanding, Speedos were developed in the Sixties as a Cold War weapon. And Speedos did halt the juggernaut that was the Eastern Bloc’s grip on the pool during the Olympics of that period. So, I am in no doubt that the development (and rapid deployment) of Speedos remains Australia’s greatest contribution to the Cold War effort. However, it was never, ever intended that Speedos be employed during times of peace.

But still, millions of men in Speedos continue to disport themselves on beaches and at municipal swimming pool complexes, worldwide. Two words spring to mind: Unneccessary and Inappropriate. Indeed, it’s as if the very ideals of so-called Civil Societies, are being mocked.

Twister Olympics ! credit:0595, flickr

Subsequently, I have found that appealing to a Speedo disporter’s ‘higher values’ is useless, if not counterproductive. Instead, I have come to the conclusion that cold, hard facts are the way to go. Here goes:

***A woman may like, even go nuts over, a beautiful antique clock but that does not mean she’s automatically interested in its works.

***A Speedo disporter, even sub-consciously, is desperately trying to advertise virility. Tragically, he could be blissfully unaware he’s a case before the Unfair Claims Tribunal, just waiting to happen.

***A Speedo disporter on a first date, is beyond help. A dear, nervy friend of mine was over-the-moon when a fairly presentable chap asked her to join him for an afternoon on the beach. All was going well until he stripped down – to Speedos. I felt like I was suddenly meeting someone’s friend I’d heard and thought a lot about, but wasn’t quite ready shake hands, she reported.

Final thing: I abhor the term, Budgie Smugglers. Budgie Smugglers is no quaint piece of vernacular. Quite the opposite. The continued use of Budgie Smugglers only serves to reinforce the view of the Speedo disporter that what he is doing is terrific. Very, very sad.

KJ would love to hear about your position on Speedos – it’s a debate we must have, even though the possibilities for upset, are many.

How to exercise your Democratic Right:

Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place when you 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 you just ignore the ‘website’ space – not necessary!

High-level NY talks vigorous : Kevin - Photo by Emmaline via flickr

Gee, the fellas at the famous Parkes Telescope are good to me!

And, they’ve come good again. The fellas have again been hard at work, intercepting this text overnight. And guess whose inbox was all the better for it?

Here goes:

Dear Therese,

First things first…….I swear black and blue, I haven’t been near any pole dancing clubs.  Watertight on that front. I said to my security boys: If I’ve had one too many and want to kick on, just pull out those emergency restraints we use at community cabinet meetings and use ‘em!

In the meantime, everyone here is so damn busy. To tell you the truth, a bad hair day for Julia would be more likely than me getting calls returned.

Still, I’ve had a bit of luck. One of my security boys, Wayne, said that his brother-in-law, Johnnie, has an expat mate,  Wazza, (a real whizz kid),  who’s working on the floor at Goldman Sachs.  We moved fast.

So, had a working lunch with Wazza today.

He filled me in.

Wazza: Look Kevin, it’s all rooted. Let me put it this way: Do you like Glen Campbell?

I said: Well Wazza, I like Glen Campbell, but Therese LOVES the man.

Wazza: Well, let me put it this way Kevin: You’d be flat out getting an appointment with the Mayor of Galveston right now!

So Therese, I’m afraid my ideas on recycling probably won’t get a look-in, this trip.  Just quietly,  I could have stayed at home, googling Wall Street like everyone else.

Love, Kev.

******** How to exercise your democratic rights by responding to any of Kerrie Jean’s musings.

Just click on the ‘comments’ thingo (just down there to the right) and follow the simple instructions. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper.  Do put in a name. Do put in your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address. It does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the ‘website’ space – not necessary!

‘As interesting as watching paint dry.’

But now, compliments of Grand Designs, we have much, much more to play around with.

How about? – As interesting as watching Swedish telflon plated LOW carbon RECYCLED kitchen towel bricks FINALLY coming off the truck….

Or What About? – As interesting as watching a distraught IT executive frantically trying to affix environmentally UNFRIENDLY big blue sheets of plastic on a roof just before the rigors of a harsh British winter THREATEN to bring his dream to a tragic end.

Now, not so long ago, Grand Designs was used as a ‘filler’ in a dead spot on the ABC Television’s schedule. Then….it went off!
Here’s how it goes every week:

Presenter Kevin McCloud, an ever so urbane pain in the arse with a hard hat, has a great passion for new builds.

Not just any builds, mind you.

These are builds (usually the size of Westfield Shopping Centres) ‘imagined’ by obnoxious, uber professional couples called Sean and Joanna, Susan and Richard or Miranda and Malcolm.

For them, the build is so important that if it doesn’t happen, they WILL kill themselves, they surely will…

So, Kevin returns to the sites of (surprise, surprise) behind-schedule builds over and over – despite blinding rain, tornados, mudslides and tardy glaziers.

And there’s no getting away from the the appalling fact that, for example, the brave, brave Sean and Joanna have been forced to take out yet another lease on a cramped six-bedroom, two-bathroom cottage because their dream, their build is in danger of becoming UNSTUCK.

It is here that Kevin gets very, very tough.

Even though Sean and Joanna are stretched to beyond breaking point just trying to exist with two obnoxious kiddies in the six-bedroom cottage, brutal questions must be asked…

Would not if have been a good idea to make sure that the Finnish recycled toothbrush tiles arrived BEFORE the Belgian window frames?

You bugeted for a build of 67-thousand-pounds. So far (and still, no waterproofing) you’ve spent 456-thousand-pounds. Do the words: PROJECT MANAGER mean anything to you?

Did you ever, ever consider that a 89-room Californian bungalow with Gothic and Moroccan influences, was always going to be a big ask for a small block with a history of drainage problems AND a 239-metre National Trust protected Medieval Torture Rack slapbang in the middle of it?

This is incredibly hard stuff: this is awful to watch but Sean and Joanna will NOT be defeated because they are made of incredibly stern stuff .

They tell Kevin that yes, the mudslide nearly finished them off but with the onset of Spring and the resumption of their sexual relations, they will push on.

And damn it, they do…

On Kevin’s last visit to see Sean and Joanna, the build has, against all odds, become a home.

Joanna and Sean love it and despite the 456-thousand-quid budget blowout, appear to have gone out and bought a whole heap of leopard skin lounges, massive seven-metre high terracotta urns, aerodynamic beds and contemporary art pieces from up-and-coming nobodies.

Kevin is impressed.

He thought Sean and Joanna ‘crazy’ – and while their dream is NOT his – they have risked all and achieved a home which similtaneously speaks of intimacy and freedom, restraint and plenty…..and love.

*KJ is currently contacting all of the Grand Designs couples and will reportly back shortly on what is looking like a way beyond average divorce rate.