... is taking a baby break
With minimal preamble (but unavoidable post-amble I am afraid), it is with great pride that I direct you to my first ever guest post over at one of my very favourite blogs. Martyr-hood is the cyber home of Romina: Aussie Supermum of four, consummate potty mouth, brilliant writer and currently on Maternity Blog leave.
Please note (MUM) that this post has been classified Parental Advisory due to the fact that it is practically a legal requirement to swear like a trucker over at Martyr-hood. In this particular instance an entry requirement for guest writers was to include in their post the following words that are particular favourites of Romina herself:
- Vagina – which means that my sister won’t be able to read it… she can’t abide this word. Or penis for that matter. Ha ha.
- F*ck – on my blog we use * Apparently you can take the girl out of Private All Girls School but you can’t take Private All Girls School out of the girl.
- Little People – poop and toot makers extraordinaire and endless source of pride and joy
And now for the post-amble… Writing this post for a blog Down Under lead me to much reminiscing, and more than a little blushing, about the mostly fabulous time that I spent backpacking in Australia at the tender age of 24.
I originally went to (kinda) follow my ex-boyfriend *cringes at thought*. I nearly tracked him down like a stalker caught up with him in Sydney only to find he had left for Perth (could hardly have been further away without actually being in the ocean). I didn’t know what to read into that at the time, yet in retrospect the message seems quite clear don’t you think?
Time misspent Down Under. So young, so skinny, so didn't spend what little money there was on food
So I didn’t find him, but ended up finding myself. Ha! JOKING! You don’t find yourself, or anyone else for that matter, at 24 do you? You find recreational drugs, drinking partners and new skills in headdress making. That trip marked the beginning of a 3 1/2 year travel bender during which time I met Mr B (grumpy yet rather endearing father of the Eponymous Bibsey) and some of my very best and most enduring friends. So, in hindsight I have much to thank my feckless ex for, don’t you think?
Big thanks also to Romina for the chance contribute on her far-superior blog and for the trip down memory lane. Good luck with Bubba #4, the beautiful Loren. If any of you reading have not done so before, please hurry over to Superblog Martyr-hood for laughter, tears and gratuitous use of anatomical swear words.
Meanwhile, has anyone else out there tried to follow someone to the ends of the earth? And how did that work out for you?
And, apart from Vagina and Penis (and moist, I have a friend who can’t hear the word moist), are there any other words that just make your toes curl?
