How not to talk about sex with a teenager

Now it may not surprise you when I say I don't have the best relationship with my step father. I’m going to hold back from throwing insults and show a little respect. We never shared anything while I was growing up. Complete polar opposites but, there was one night when he put on the dad pants and made my inner girl scream with embarrassment and cringe at the awkwardness. That was the night we were both taken by surprise by an ‘adult scene’ in a movie.

When you're a 13 year old girl, sex scenes are extremely awkward to watch with any member of family. If I was to witness one with my mother now I probably make obscene comments until she blushed or walked out of the room. Back in the day I was quite content to pretend I didn't know what sex was. That was of course until that fateful night.

My mum had gone to bed. It must have been a Friday because I was allowed to stay up and watch the rest of the movie with my step father. Mum was quite liberal and let me watch M15 movies, it was no different from any other movie... or so she thought. As we sat there, the plot thickened. I must admit I don't actually remember the plot or what the movie was called but that’s not important for this story. What’s important is while I was munching on popcorn and sipping herbal tea, (no normal tea after 7pm due to the caffeine. If only she could see me now!) All of a sudden the main female character was taking her clothes off. Hmm, thinking quickly I looked away,
“Wow check out how interesting this piece of popcorn is?”
Yes things got that bad and we stooped to that level to try and avoid what was going on over on the TV.

I looked from my piece of interesting popcorn back to the TV. The main male character was looking at the female character like a lion that hasn't eaten in weeks and has just spied a zebra fresh from the watering hole. AHHHH my down played sexual education was diminishing before me. I knew what they’re doing, my step father knew what they’re doing but did he know that I knew? I guess not.

I squirmed, the step dad squirmed. Not exactly a bonding moment to seal our already fragile relationship! As the female character (with boobies out) mounted the male character in a sexual position that made my Barbie look amateur, my step dad turned to me with a bright red face and said, "she's just comforting him."

Not knowing whether to laugh, cry or run from the room and wash my eyes and ears outs with soap, I was mortified! Here is my step father, on a Friday night, in front of the telly, trying to give me ‘the talk.’ I racked my brains trying to find a witty comment, an excuse to leave the room but I was rendered speechless and frozen. All I could muster was a big fat, “Oh.”

I think he though the look of horror and shock was because I had no idea what was going in the movie. I guess he made the assumption that my mother had neglected to inform about the finer points of baby making. I was more than happy to let him believe that if it meant he wouldn’t make any more comments like, “Comforting him.” Trust me when I say this; that looked far from comfortable! I think ‘Oh’ did the trick though because he didn’t say anything back and he left the room to fill up the already full pop corn bowl. Too little, too late.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

It’s that time of year again when I write to you and try to justify my actions of the past 12months. Seeing as we’re both adults I don’t feel it’s necessary to beat around the bush. Unlike certain children, I don’t feel I need to draw you a nice picture to prove my intentions. I can’t draw. So let’s get down to business and discuss why I should be on the good list and how I should be rewarded.

I can’t lie like little kids. I’m not even going to pretend that I’ve helped out around the house and done something nice for someone everyday. Santa my man, you are all knowing and all seeing so it’s pointless to even pretend that I’ve tried. In my defence, can I just say that while I am shockingly disruptive, a professional procrastinator and all round story teller… I am actually a good person deep down. I can be caring when I fancy it and I try to do the best by others (unless I don’t like them very much.) When I laughed at the midgets wrestling on Jerry Springer a few months ago, I meant no offence to your elves in any way.

So let’s get down to business. May I please have something half decent? You know my boyfriend Justin? You must know him; he’s the one at the top of your good list with a halo around his head. As much as everyone loves him, he has no Christmas cheer. For Christmas may I please have a boyfriend who isn’t so suborn and just goes with the flow? If I want to dangle lights all out the place, I would like him to smile and say “good job! Our house looks like a cheap brothel and is completely uncoordinated but good job!” It’s just not Christmas unless we’re both wankered on Baily’s, wearing Santa hats and singing dodgy Christmas carols while dancing around the lounge. Also, I would love for him to understand the importance of wrapping everything and anything in wrapping paper… just so I can open it on Christmas morning. Could you please remind him that I left the wrapping paper, sticky tape and scissors on the kitten table? There are only 2 tags left but I’m sure he can pick some more up from the pound shop.

As for the gift department, you have yet to let me down. Just to ensure we are on the same page; here is a list of stuff I wouldn’t say no too:

• A head massager (manual or electric. You can pick these up cheap from boots.)
• A Christmas Song CD to play all day long. (must include Wham and Mariah)
• A dressing grown/ slanket (it’s a blanket with sleeves)
• The Sims 3 expansion pack.
• A kitten.
• Eurostar tickets for a weekend in Paris
• Some books, of the soppy lady variety
• Lily Allen, Michael Buble`, Lenka, Peter Andre or John Williamson Album (will settle for downloads as long as they are paid for and I can play them in the kitchen)
• A photo album with all the pictures from our adventures in it
• The lifestyle and culture channel package on Sky
• Christmas flowers delivered to work
• Some arcade games on the playstation (happy with downloads)
• Chocolate dipped strawberries (home made with Cadbury chocolate)
• Arrow Word, crossword book
• A princess outfit for Kitty-Minx (I know he’s a boy cat but he has no balls!)

To be honest Santa, apart from that one year when my brother was born and my presents where rather thin on the ground, you’ve done alright by me. I think if we can maintain at this current strong level of quality we shouldn’t fall out.

Till next year, you’re faithful, naughty, little one. ;)
Kell xx

It's a Girl! (or is it a boy?)

The other day I had to make a mad dash in the rain from Liverpool Street station to the taxi rank. While I stood under my umbrella waiting for a taxi, a woman joined the queue behind me. In toe, she had a small child which I would put at around 3 years old. Now this child left me with some serious questions.

I’m sorry, but if you have a little girl what on earth would possess you give her a mullet? No really, there is nothing funny or cool about a three year old girl with a shiny mullet for a haircut. In fact there is nothing cool about a 12 year old girl with a mullet but at least she has the voice to fight back. Should the 12 year old roll over and accept her mullet, then laughing at her is fair game. But a three year old, how is that remotely fare. Further more, should you have a son (with a mullet,) why would you put him a dress? It really does confuse things, even for open minded people like me!

If you haven’t figured it out yet, this child looked like a boy, had a mullet but yet was wearing a red dress thingy with trousers underneath. I don’t condone laughing at helpless children but what the heck? I mean surely this is a case for child services… or the fashion police!

I looked down and smiled at the little shim (she/him) and also gave it a little wave. The child gave me a big grin back and waved. Thinking that this could be my chance to find out what gender it was so I could either laugh at the hair cut or attire, I asked, “What’s your name?”
The little shim hid behind its mother’s leg and I heard a small voice say, “Charlie.” Well smack me over the head with a baseball bat and give the shim a biscuit, it has a unisex name to match the gender confused get-up.

If I’m confused what must that poor child think? I’m a boy but mum wanted a girl bad enough that she makes me wear dresses OR, I’m a girl… with a mullet, my life is over. The parents should be shot either way.

A taxi finally arrived and due to the rain, I offered it too the shim and its mother. Freak show or not, it’s still a small child in the rain and freak shows can catch a cold too you know!

Quote of the Day

It seems London is burning… AGAIN! Last night a fire struck a housing estate in Peckham. Low and behold it's all over the London news this morning (the story that is.) So far reports are saying there are no fatalities, which is a good thing. It seems the fire is being dubbed "The Great Fire on London 2009". How a fire can be great, I'll never know!

But what I really loved about this article in particular was the quote from one of the residents. Lucy Pope whoever you are, you have won my quote of the day competition (which I just invented.)

“People are scared, they are standing in bus shelters and there are babies who have been woken up.”

Babies who have been woken up! OMG this is a real tragedy of epic proportions!!!

Also in other news that is completely unrelated to the fire in Peckham or babies being woken up by concerned parents who thought a woken baby is better than a burnt baby. (Although Lucy would beg to differ…)

I would like to send out a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to one of the most important people in my life. Words will never be enough to express who much you mean to me. Happy Birthday Kelton! I feel the same way about you as a fat kid feels about cake. xx

Anywhere is... ie, NOT HERE!

I really need to vent. I’m not going to go into details as to why I need to vent but trust me when I say this; if I don’t vent soon, someone and most probably someone who doesn’t deserve it, will become the helpless victim of an obscene amount of verbal abuse.

When my brother was born, my step father’s mother came and stayed with us while mum was in hospital. Before mum went away for the longest 4 days of my life, she bought me an Enya CD and told me to play it every time the evil cow wound me up. Not that I have a problem with controlling my temper, more that my mum knew if I got to breaking point, I was more than capable of slipping a little something in her tea and tying her to a chair for the remainder of her stay.

So today while I stomp my feet, pull my hair, have a cry and all in all, throw my toys out of the cot, I would like to share with you a song that seems to calm me down and take me to a place where nothing really matters. Please enjoy this video of Enya’s Anywhere Is.

She wrote a song... For You!

Does anyone have Simon Cowell's number? I think I have just found the next Whitney Huston!

Investment Banking: It’s a bit like Lego

The other night at the pub I got a very interesting lesson in the art of Investment Banking. I thought I would share it with you.

Investment Banking is like Lego. In a Lego set you have 5 or 6 different colours and lots of different size blocks made out of those colours. Each of those colours represents a product and each different sized block within that colour represents… something else. I can’t remember what he said; I think Girls Aloud came on so I stopped to have a bit of a dance.

But anyway, so you have all these different blocks made out of different colors that can be rearranged into a magnitude of different things. But the fundamentals of all structures are the same… just constructed in different ways.

On Friday night, while nursing not one but two glasses of wine I found this analogy fascinating. So on Saturday morning after my trip to KFC I figured I would try and expand on what was explained to me. This is what I came up with.

The world economy is like a Lego village, you have the town part and the houses/suburb part. The economic down turn is when you’ve run out of blocks. All construction stops and all the Lego Men loose their jobs. Mum won’t buy you more blocks and feed a false village, so you have no choice but to evict your Lego men and make them all live together in a small one bedroom flat on the wrong side of the village. You use the blocks from their now empty houses to expand the town. This is called 'Repossession' and 'Public Sector Spending'.

Now all of this could have been avoided. The Lego village was working just dandy until the neighbour came over to the play. The motto to the story is quite a simple one. Don’t let your children, who are the master craftsman of such a complex system, play with kids called Gordon.