J.Crew Tail

Today I popped into J.Crew after a manic day at work, hoping to find something/anything that would fit the "casual chic" dress code of a film soirée tomorrow night. (work thing.)

It was only ten minutes before close, and once inside, the door man came up to me with an apologetic face. I stopped him and said: "I know, I know - you guys close in 10 minutes - I'll be quick!"
"No mam," he said hesitantly. "There's toilet paper coming out your pants."

I prayed it was just stuck to the bottom of my shoe, but when I turned around I saw a good foot and a half of it hanging out the top of my skinny black pants like a long tail. (!!?!)

I quickly stuffed it in my handbag, like that was a perfectly normal place to put toilet paper.
"Thank you," I managed in a surprisingly dignified voice, as I continued to browse the racks.

I had just walked two blocks down Fifth Avenue and crossed at the lights to get here. As my dear friend  Liz would call it - Fashion Road-kill.

Zzzzzzz

Having hardly slept… thanks to Oprah, which comes on at 1am here, today at my writer’s office – where it is so quiet - even coughing is not permitted (seriously they strap cough lollies to the door just incase) - I put my head down on my desk, and awoke over an hour later - making vibrating fart noises with my lips. Like a horse does!

The exact noise you need to make to take these pictures:

(taken last year, in a Melbourne restaurant with friends)

I don’t know how long I’d been doing it for, but all the people around me had mysteriously put their headphones in at some stage.

Why had they not woken me? Because they just assumed I was farting?

Red faced, and bleary eyed, I exited to use the bathroom. 

Brazilian Wax – to the left, to the left!

At the height of brazilin waxing popularity, in 2006, I had the glorious idea of getting creative at a particular session.

I wanted a shape, like a heart or a lightning bolt - just like in SATC, instead of the rectangular landing strip. I’d been waxing my bikini line for years, but only just started trying Brazillians. It was addictive! Especially in Brisbane’s summer, where you often find your self in a pair of bathers.

I asked my waxer, if she did any shapes.

“What kind of shapes?” she asked in a suspicious tone.

“Perhaps a lightning bolt?” I said, nonchalantly.

“Well, we don’t have any stencils, and I’ve never done shapes before, BUT - I can give it a try!”

Note: The words “I can give it a try” when using hot wax on your genetailia, should always, always, always raise a red flag.

So - off to work she went! Spreading wax strategically, at different angles, before tearing it off. She was taking her time, even surveying it from a distance, like an artist would, and I grew confident that she was doing a good job. In fact, I couldn’t wait to see it! My boyfriend, Ralph was going to love it - and be totally surprised!!

“There we go!” she finally said. “I’ve done my best here, considering.” She stood back, looking proud of herself.

I thanked her for putting in so much effort, and then I looked down.

A lightening bolt – it was not. But it was definitely in the shape of a curved arrow, going down and off to the left.

Like a road sign, directing penises away from the target.


Ralph’s brain is already confused enough, when the blood drains to his privates. He certainly didn’t need any more mixed signals from me.

I wanted her to fix it. To take it all off. Going bald eagle would be my only choice.

But she just stood there smiling happily in her art work, and all I could say was:

“Oh, that’s great! I love it! Totally love it!”

Fuck! I do this in hair salons too. I wasn’t about to shave, and have stubble in the shape of an arrow growing from me, so that night before getting naked, I warned Ralph:

“Babe - today I went in to get a lightening bolt fashioned in my pubic region, as a lovely surprise, and something a bit different… but the girl mustn’t have been very good at art in school, and, well – this happened…”

He took one look at the arrow, and was rolling around on the floor in fits of laughter.

Which was actually the best thing ever. A bit of humour is essential in the bedroom, and it was a welcome change!

Also, Beyonce wrote a song about it:
“To the left, to the left… everything you own, in a box to the left.” Ha ha ha.