KerrieJean.com

The Leeton Redlegs Australian Rules Club’s glory period co-incided with my less than glorious adolescence….

I was soooo pathologically nervy, soooooo godamm ‘kookified’ it’s a wonder I’m not writing as the Pacific Rim’s only known survivor of early seventies spontaneous self-combustion.

But……I’m not here [thankfully in one piece] to boast about how a very tortured teenager conquered her fears, eventually exploding onto the highly competitive Riverina dating scene as an audacious, even gleefully obnoxious participant.

No.

I want to speak candidly about a highly charged sports fitness/public/private life debate which always erupted in my hometown whenever a football team of any code resurrected traditional and potent images of masculinity……and made The Finals.

The question?

In the pursuit of maximum testosterone payloads, vital on-field aggression and team coherence should players refrain from conjugal activities the night before The Big Match?

[Coach and team: Pre-grand final training session. Cr: National Library Ireland: flickr]

Everyone had an opinion. Everyone was right. Everyone got cranky.

And, as the big day loomed closer, things got downright ugly.  

The Pre Big Match Abstainer Bloc was made up of sports loving spinsters, clergy, lawn bowlers and 50 percent of club officials. 

They were persistent, mad – and bad.

They even spoke of  kidnapping finals footballers’ wives.

For twenty four hours before The Big Game, they’d be held in camouflaged [dirt covered] caravans in the local Dusty Retreat Van Park and Dirt Slide. 

Their only comforts?

Nine dozen Cadbury Milk Trays and 10 dozen bottles of vintage Porphyry Pearl.

The Pre Big Match match Pro Conjugal Lobby was an unlikely coalition of potential players, players, former players, human rights activists and 50 percent of club officials.

They [many for the first time] spoke of sacred and mysterious relations between man and wife.

And they invoked a breathtaking range of anthropological, literary and scientific sources in support of their argument. 

Those sacred and mysterious relations had served as powerful nerve settlers for sportsmen throughout history -  chariot drivers and gladiators in particular. 

Furthermore, how could you ask brave men to do something which had never – and would NEVER - be asked of young and fit members of a champion netball team?

And so it was that The Big Game would be played – and won or lost.

And I’ll tell you this………

Post The Big Match,  no one ever dared to re-ignite the Coital Conversation whatever the result.   

*About 10 years ago, I was recording a story about the Australian Rules Football Club in the Tasmanian mining town of Queenstown.

It’s a famous club and so it should be.

Games in Queenstown are played on Australia’s only gravel oval. [Mine site 'leftovers']

Anyway, I finally had the chance to ask  a coach of the ‘modern game’ era his view on the ’sacred relations before finals footy’ imbroglio.

He thought, he thought again……he leaned into the mike……..

“There’s tremendous pressure on the blokes in the lead up to Big Games. Tremendous pressure….. 

“My recommendation? ’Don’t change ya routine no matter what it is.’”

…………………………………………………………….

So, is it okay that sports administrators think they have the God given right to go into bedrooms of young Australian sportsmen?

….Or is it just another sign of the ‘win at any cost’ mentality that has taken over our fine sporting traditions?

While I’ve got your attention, many commentators are saying it was very, very disrespectful for the ABC to portray Mr Mathieson and Ms Gillard in an intimate moment under the Southern Cross.

My response?

I think it’s time we got a new flag.

Anything else going on in your life….terrible or terrific?

Do report in…… 

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.

If more than six people of an obvious gender approach me over a period of at least three days with startling news of an intimate nature I declare it a ‘Trend’………

Never one to blow my own trumpet BUT this methodology has proved far more reliable than all the resources of the Nifty Nielsen Box Ticking Corp combined.

And so it is I am able to report a trend so outrageous, so gobsmackingly audacious, so potentially explosive that for a couple of tense moments I feared my hearing was deteriorating as fast as the elastic sides of a size I6F homebrand bra.

[I'm back!: cr: Library of Congress: flickr]

SURVEY SAMPLE: 

Six women aged 50+: Reasonably presentable. Blood alcohol content, medium range.

Research fields: Three drinks and goats cheese [phew!] and dolmade platter parties.

Demeanour of sample: Flushed, excitable, disconcerting flickering of pupils, copybook post dolmade-ingestion windpipe constriction.

THE NEWS: That after periods ranging from 10 to 25 years, all six women were about to reconnect with their passionate/sensual selves.

HOW?????????????: By both *traditional and *non-traditional means.

*Traditional means included lies and subterfuge. 

[Example: To potential suitor: 'I'm 39 and haven't got a bitter bone in my body.' ]

*Non-traditional means included new lies and new means of subterfuge.

[Example: Posting up to 1200 different profiles on dating sites claiming everything from being a fomer Miss Pacific Rim -  to having the most expensive and well maintained Sealy Posturepedic King Ensemble ever manufactured in the Southern Hemisphere.

WHY???????????

All six women reported the need for a challenge other than the not inconsiderable ones presented by Pilates, delinquent teenage sons and the spectre of  blissfully happy former husbands et al who [10 to 25 years ago] had taken precisely 36 hours to recover from their drawn out, shockingly malevolent separations. 

The women also all reported recent sensations of  ‘veils of bitterness’  mysteriously lifting from their bodies.

CONCLUSION:

Australian rules of sensual relations are about to be re-written in nothing short of explosive terms.

Men of all ages will be fighting for the attentions of a significant cohort of attractive and intelligent women who’ve not been seen on the market since the ‘True Believers’ Federal Election of 1993.

In terms of infrastructure, restaurants, bars and nightclubs will have to meet new and expensive safety regulations to cater for the new cohort.

As it is in all social revolutions, everybody will be thinking differently……….

The lady is a ramp!

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Isn’t it great?

Even 22-year-olds will be heard on buses saying things like: ‘Gee, I wish I was over 50!’

Please report in on your thoughts and plans. You don’t want to be left behind – it’s a terrible feeling.

Perhaps you’re worried about the new sensual landscape…….why, why, why?

I really can’t see why you would be……..

 [I bet many of you said you'd never get a flat screen telly - and guess what.....guess what?]

Would love to hear from you……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.

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.

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.

You know those quirky little media stories?

…..The ones that are supposed to brighten up your miserable day or make you feel ‘gee whizz, this ‘ere world sure is an aaamaaazing place……’

Usually [in the interests of professional pride] I wouldn’t point to one……

You can thank my first chief-of-staff, the passionate newsman, the late Mister Peter Cullen, of Wollongong’s flagship tabloid, The Illawarra Mercury, for that…..

”Now nervy Cadet KJ, how many times have you seen a wire service screamer along the lines of  ’six missing trekkers in deepest darkest Africa have been cut out of the belly of an obviously overweight python which terrorised an unnamed village, overnight?’

……”They run that one every six months or so nervy Cadet KJ when things get quiet……..

“On the other hand, you’re in the business of TRUTH…….

“By the way, if you’ve got a moment nervy Cadet KJ check out those reports of a three-headed mastiff bulldog stalking the Dapto Shopping Centre after midnight……..”

HOWEVER, a little story from Fairfax via deepest, darkest Scandinavia has got me very excited indeed.

“A Finnish couple have won the country’s annual wife carrying competition for the third year in a row.  Forty six year old lawyer, Taisto Miettinen, with his partner Kristitina Haapanen’s legs wrapped around his head, sprinted 235 metres, leaping hurdles and negotiating a water pool, in one minute.”

What I’m proposing is this:

A colossal charity fundraising event – held on the same day in every Australian city, regional centre and hamlet - where single people of all sexualities aged 40 or more carry their latest date, with legs wrapped around their heads,  for as far as they can.  

The event will be called ‘Date Pride’.

‘Date Pride’ will serve a dual purpose.

Raise not inconsiderable funds for the House With No Steps ['bout time they got some!] and  unequivocally demonstrate to the nation that getting a date when you’ve over 40 IS possible.

Imagine…….

Forty-years-old-and-much-over men and women, men and men and women and women who’ve been on at least one date together seen in erotic though hard-to-achieve embrace in their thousands on the streets, lanes, by-passes, cul de sacs, boulevards and old Cobb and Co tracks of Australia.

‘Date Pride’………..

I can see the story now:

”A Sydney-based couple, Barbara Stevens and Warren Curtis, have amazed ‘Date Pride’ organizers by ending up in Perth.

“Barbara Stevens, with Warren Curtis’s legs wrapped around her head,  constantly ignored ‘Date Pride’ marshals’ pleas to ‘pull over’…..

“Barbara, aged 52, told reporters that Warren had been her first date for nine years……..

” There was NO way I was ever gonna let him out of my sight, ” she said.

“Walking to Perth with Warren’s legs around my head was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

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Gee, I think I’ve got something!

Is ‘Date Pride’ a good idea?

Would you sponsor couples [say a dollar per 50kms] participating in ‘Date Pride’?

[And please, please don't tell me you've got compassion fatigue.........now is NOT the time]

Report in 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.