Rules of Engagement

Possums, what are the rules of engagement when you go out together in public? I am not talking to the shops to buy milk-I am talking about an official outing with people around maybe even common acquaintances. What is the policy? Fake it until you make it? And does that give the non-committal status of the union suddenly some clout? Does that give me cozy, warm feelings and wet dreams of IKEA visits- like okay now we're like out here so might as well go all the way and do IKEA. Heck, why not have a baby while we're waiting in line at the check-out counter... or should this be an alarm that says, "Run and do not look back". It's like when I asked a friend's opinion if he thought it was okay that I parked my Jaguar where I had parked it and he said, "Depends on what the sign says." It's very metaphoric that last comment isn't it? It all depends on what the sign says.That's right, Possums, what does the sign say? Is his sign saying, "Hey park your car here,unlimited parking, no fees, no tickets. All you want 24 hours check in and check out." Or is he saying,"You can park your car during these days only and between this time but make sure you leave when you're supposed to. If you don't leave like you're supposed to or rather when you're parking time has expired, then you will get a parking ticket and you know what, it's going to cost. Big time"
What about me? What is my sign saying? Is it saying, "I want to park my car here unlimited times, no conditions and have exclusive parking rights to just my car and one else's car"? Or am I saying,"Sure, I'm fine with parking my car here and moving it on cleaning days and parking for limited amount of time because I really do not want to pay for the parking fee because I don't believe the risk would be worth it anyway."? Or am I saying, " Hey I don't care where I park, how I park and when I park. I'm just going to park my car however I am going to park and when I'm ready to leave, I will leave but not before I've parked. Take it or leave it"? Do you understand the pickle I'm in? What the parking sign says also defines the PDA situation ( Public displays of affection) which I should add when the parking signs are not clear, best to keep PDA to an absolute minimum-almost zero, Possums. A bit of boob brushing with quick and swift crotch and ass handling to absolute discretion if you must exchange some lusty assurances but tension and refraining is truly the aphrodisiac. And not everyone is into PDA. It all depends on the context. There is nothing as sexless as when your date is all over you like a rash and just won't stop pissing on you like you're a tree and he has to mark his turf like a dog. I know men who do that kind of tree pissing PDA. (Women also have this tendency as well- the type of women who have left it too late to cultivate a personality in life.) Usually men who have an insecure penis tend to do the tree pissing thing. Observe next time when out in public, you will see men doing tree pissing PDA, Possums. But back to the rules of engagement-to park or not to park is the question and does a public outing change the status to " No Free parking rule"? ELLER?

I don't date. I just do marriage and divorce.

Possums, I awoke in the middle of the night and had a road to Damascus type awakening-it occurred to me that I have never dated in my life but have just gone straight to the alter and then to court. In others words, I do not really know what it feels like to date and be as open as a public toilet. But I'm a fast learner as you may note from previous entries, (Royally Rogered) my junk got nicely paddled and my husbands did not have a hand in the matter (Pardon the pun).
But what are the rules of engagement if the terms are no longer marriage and divorce? I am lost and sailing a rudderless ship. How many eligibles should be allowed to see all those stretch marks from child births (and not his off spring by the way) if they are not going to sign a deal memo before hand? A new jargon I picked up at starta eget. It means a serious intention to commit in cash, shoes or bling.
What don't I say? How emotionally inept should I be with another adult who is roughly the same age as his shoe size? (We are talking European size, Possums) Do I keep it straight, simple and honest- last time that happened on a date, he got up and left. Can I ask that he go down on me on the second date? Would that be pushing expectations? Could that be misunderstood as "needy". Like I have the time to be sexually reserved, Possums... what good has that done for women of our ranking? And does a date necessary end in or start with the sex? That's a tricky one isn't it...What about the romance? What the hell happened to that art form? And please don't give me sentimental - that's just needy and so last night. What happened to keeping it eyeball straight and saying like it is - "I dig you.I want you in bed before we can say pass the soya sauce." Providing of course, the sentiment is mutual. It has failed me a few times... but hey, it's like the game pin the donkey- you'll pin his ass eventually. Eller hur?

Speed dating- the truth defines us

I was led to a speed dating event the other night and I believe that as we are getting on in our years, one can't really afford to be coy about certain needs, wants and specifications. Playing hard to get belonged to the teenage years which in Swedish terms means well into the late thirties until one gets pregnant and then we are "mamma ledig".
Which brings me to my dilemma about how honest should I be about myself in a three minute speed date session? The voice of my Yoga teacher came upon me,"cut to the chase".
So it is my turn and I find myself sitting opposite an attractive man, maybe late thirties - far too young for me, Possums, so already I have as they say in dramatic terms - a "conflict".
He sits, smells like fly spray, looks like my first husband when he was married to his first wife. I seem to attract patterns from some time vortex that never seems to leave me alone. (Is that what my therapist means by "projecting?") He starts off saying with a "So, have you done this before?" Lame, Possums. You have three minutes on the clock and you want to make a lasting impression. It's an audition, Possums, there is no call back. Time is now. You don't start with "So, have you done this before?", unless you are Dirty Harry and have a gun to my head. Now that's sexy.
So I decide to myself just make it easy for him, cut to the chase and tell it like it is and so I say this, "Look, this is the deal- first, I don't want children - doesn't matter if we fall in love and live happy ever after and you think that "love" will melt my heart and hormones and I will change my mind. I won't. Trust me. Second, I work all the time at arbetesförmedling at Starta Eget meetings and will not make any compromises when it comes to my potential career and business opportunities. I believe I will make it some day and will not be derailed from my dreams of eventually getting off AKASSA and thirdly, I don't do anal sex.
He got up and left before you could say pass the tomato sauce and before the three minutes were up, Possums.
I was quite remarkable to get all that very important information about myself under three minutes when you think about. It is an art form.
Lets face it, Possums, the man who should decide to stay after an intro like that, is a keeper, eller hur?

Royally Rogered.

I woke up this morning with a very sore bottom. I noticed even a slight raise in the flesh where the indentation of the leather belt smacked my bottom. Possums,I had been tied, belted and royally rogered. It was rather pleasant to say the least. So how on earth did a good housewife get herself in this position? (Excuse the pun)

Well it was instigated really by a pair of shoes, Chinese food, nasty emails to a third party and next thing I knew I was taken from behind, tied up and belted before I could say, "Pass the soya sauce". As the entrepreneur that I am, a new line of business opportunity was taking shape in my mind as I experienced the anatomical limitations one has when dealing with straps, hooks, buckles and gravity and what to wear to next unemployment "starta eget" meeting. Could I get away with a horse's holster over my business shirt- would they notice at arbetesförmedling? Computer says, "yes". I was multi-tasking, Possums. The affliction was inspiring as I was getting my bottom paddled.
Could I have found a niche business and have spanking accessories Tupperware parties? Highly possible, seeing that Christmas is around the corner and the unemployment levels have risen to a whopping 8 percent, Social Democrats have to regroup after Mona's exit and the Swedish King is having dinner at home tonight, or is he? It's all about seizing opportunities and knowing when the moment is ripe.

But I digress... back to being royally rogered. I can recommend the following; Bow Pose (look it up if you are not familiar) arms and wrists strapped to ankles- straps need to be either thick rubber bands that stretch or he has to be strong in his chest to be able to pull you up by the straps from behind as he enters you.
Alternatively, a belt strapped around your waist, leather of course, pulled tight like a corset. Your arms pulled back and your wrists tied with his so that you should feel your skin scratching against the leather strap. You can also do this sitting on a chair, you on top and him underneath. Your wrists tied to his wrist- you both have yoga pull and push of your union where he can pull you up with the straps or you can push back. Your legs straddled across his torso, preferably ankles buckled to something solid. Suggest buying hooks and strap mounts when visiting IKEA next and bolt under table, might also want to consider bolting down table legs while you are at it.
The kids or neighbors do not have to know everything. Discretion, mystery and denial is the back bone of long lasting family and marriage life. If the styrelsen leave a post-it note in the elevator complaining about the noise just tell them the truth, you were getting beaten up. They'll never mention it again as the truth is just too confronting, eller hur?

Possums for Peace and faking orgasms are back in fashion

It's been a while Possums... I have quite a bit to tell. First of all Pavlova business went south. Debts up to my tits because of it but you can't keep a good woman down. What do the Japanese say, "Get up or I will kill you". Something along those lines...I have taken up Bikram Yoga and can truly recommend this to anyone who is looking for another way of being tortured under immense heat under the training of gorgeous yoga instructors- equal eye candy from both gender but as the heat eventually consumes you, you don't care who is high on the erotic capital points as you are stripped down to basic elements- water, air and time- Time to end the 90 minute session so you can die in a puddle of your own sweat in a corner. Why do it? Because after the session you feel like you have entered a state of nirvana bliss and that feeling keeps you going back in for more. There are also fast returns on the torture investment- drop pounds, become fitter, sleep better and sex life is given a new bolt of jolt. Any ages, any shape and any style. Try it. Bikram Yoga.

Ahh, faking orgasms you say... what about that... lets just put it this way- When you have been on a date with a man who considers himself a bit of ladies man with the younger generation of females usually those who wouldn't know an orgasm if it poked them in the eye, and then here is me being the mature age one with a body that has been made supple through yoga and who has demands and expectations in the bedroom department. Possums, I am too old to play "I don't mind. You go ahead and come before me,I can wait next time" There is no next time if he is over 40 something-lets get real. That's another calendar event; shaving, waxing- it's too bloody expensive. Well the sweetest and greatest power to a woman when in bed with a hyped up egotistical lover is fake an orgasm to teach him a lesson and then go home and enjoy your vibrator which is twice the man he is and knows how to hit the g-spot...more than once.
Remember the scene in Harry met Sally? Need I say more. Eller hur?

I will try and endeavor to write often, regularly and meanly.

Review of the year- the people and events that defined my year

Lets see... Obama, Mrs O,( noticed more people of colour in the streets and actually having important jobs since they moved into the White House) the fling in Barcelona with Big, Micheal Jacksson left us all stunned when the curtain fell for him, getting loaded off a Ryanair flight after telling the ground control madam to shove it up her cock-pit when I refused to pay for my beauty box as extra luggage arguing it was a legit handbag, getting a job working in a real Swedish institution with a clock in card, fika breaks and learning that screwing with the hands that feed you is highly over rated in the literal sense. But never mind about that... the year has been a challenging one. Recession has made the demand for pavlovas scarce and Hagen Das ice cream surpassing all expecations making the sin stocks-sex, alcohol, chocolate and ice cream souring to healthy profit. I personally could do with less Hagen Daz and more sex with chocolate, but never mind about that.

Finished reading the book The Secret and the principles of the laws of attraction. I picture myself perched on the edge of rocks with my fishing line in the ocean...no bite yet...but cats whom I dislike lick and rub themselves against me, I mean what part of "no" do they not understand? Laws of attraction work when you don't want it to. I suppose that's the power of the secret, it works randomly.

The year has gone as quick as you can say pass the ketchup. 2010 sees some new challenges ahead; back to the unemployment office and having a fika with my handläggare and then off to visit my social secretary about finally getting that apartment in Södermalm after the dentist appointment paid by someone's taxes at försäkringskassan.

Might take a long trip somewhere and go on crash diet on the plane, take off the Christmas pounds that are going to pile up.
And for all you monkeys who have facebook... have a merry Christmas and enjoy your private information spread out in the public domain of the internet. You are all sooooo blåst, eller hur?

Just call me Mrs Boss now.

Kenneth Nguyen, a writer from Melbourne Age wrote a piece that went something like this, ”Please, Baz, tone down the kitsch and turf the Kidman”

When I read comments by Mr Nguyen and the general cold reviews on Australia the film, I realise how much in common Swedes and Australians really are; That both cultures are isolated – Australia at the arse end of the world and an island,and Sweden at the top north- with bloody freezing temperature most of the year which affects the people’s general out look on life, eller hur?
Both bag their locally produced films when directors dare to show something that is perhaps less kitchen sink realism and dare I say it,when us simple folk from the suburbs would pay a ticket to watch instead of downloading it or gathering in trendy arty cinemas the size of bathrooms,while having a chat over a double espresso.

You see, when you’ve been away from home a while one always looks back with perhaps a slight touch of romanticism-the sentimentality of homeland. The imaginary home and our country is what it is in my mind and the emotion it evokes,negative or positive. I have realised with time that things I would once dread no longer existed upon my return,(like John Howard)it is not that these fears in people,places things did not ever exist,as they did ( Pauline Hansson) and they were(are)real,it is that I have changed. I have outgrown my fear, my perspective has changed with time and distance. So when you are entrenched in dual landscapes as I am,one has the privilege of freedom and an odd obligation which I am not ashamed to stay stems from love for both landscape and culture to bring and see the best of both worlds in a universal context which the best stories over time tell and touch us. (Australia, Wizard of Oz, The Immigrants, just three examples)

I will dare to say that elements of the Swedish cultural institutions are totally unaware of the gifted individuals amongst them who are of what they would certainly count as the kitsch variety and have being promptly cut off so as not to be given any room in fear that we may have Bergman/ Lurhman mutation, which would be opposed to Swede’s unique phrase called, lagom, which means mediocre and that is a compliment on this side of town. Eller Hur?

And we have no major box office international sassy, sexy female actors since Garbo, Harriet Andersson, Bibi Andersson, Ingrid Bergman as they’ve been taught in film school to tone it down and be smart good girls who are directed by a generation of male directors who in turn have been raised by mothers who’ve castrated them metaphorically speaking,from the neck down-A backlash of social-liberalism, possums. (Which is probably why right now the sexiest man alive is a sweating, bloody cheaky bull drover, Aussie and not a Swede.)

So we don’t get sassy because that would be too frightening for the Swedish film school trained directors to handle- but one man did give women her mojo, good or bad- he got canned for it too and his name was Ingmar Bergman and women have never been as complex, sexy, strong, weak, loving, hating, neurotic bitches since. ( Mrs Boss, Monica (Summer with Monica) Scarlett, Baby Jane...me, citing some examples of what I mean)

I had the extraordinary and rare pleasure of sitting in a packed cinema in one of the western suburbs of Stockholm because all the inner city cinemas were sold out for the Christmas opening of Australia.(And they wouldn't let me in with my fish'n chips in my bag)
My point on Mr Nguyen article about toning down the kitsch and turfing the Kidman is this ; If you can get Swedes to come out on sub freezing levels on Christmas day, make them pay twenty-one dollars for a ticket and then expect them to sit for two and a half hours to watch a film about a drover, Mrs Boss and their creamy in the Aussie outback singing Somewhere over the Rainbow, then mate, Baz Lurhman IS the Wizard of Oz.
Eller Hur?