Feel Dirty

**This post is descriptive and gross, but it is not about poo**

I am reading the worst book right now. It's called Wideacre by Philippa Gregory. Don't read it. Or you know, read it and share my feelings. That would be nice too.

I love Philippa Gregory, she wrote The Other Boleyn Girl, a very popular retelling of the Anne Boleyn fiasco through the eyes of her sister Mary. It's sexy, it's enchanting, it's propelling, it's a great great read. She's also written other books that all take place surrounding The Other Boleyn Girl, about Katherine of Aragon, and Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth I...while not as good as TOBG, I still enjoyed each one immensely and would read them again. Which is a good and economical idea because I own them.

So I thought I would check out some other books by this author, not from the Tudor England era, and I found the Wideacre trilogy. I went and bought all three books, and they were on my big "Books For Carol To Read" pile. I finally got around to starting it. I was eager to get into the story, because it was a period piece, about a girl in Georgian England, and how she loves her home and the land, and she fights to stay there despite the land being entailed to her older brother who has no knack for being a squire, but that's the law. There's supposed to be love and lust and murder and betrayal. Wonderful things, all.

This book is savagely raping my mind.

The murder and betrayal? It's pretty horrible. So far, she's murdered and betrayed her father, and then this guy she was banging when she was 14. Actually, what happened was that she was angry with her father, and so she told her bang-buddy that he could kill him. And so he does. And then she got angry at him for doing that, so she murdered him herself. Or at least, she THOUGHT she did, but it turns out he escaped, bloodied and broken, and is presumably out there plotting his revenge. That's all generally disturbing and kind of creepy.

Okay.

The love and lust? It's with her BROTHER!! She's having sex with her BROTHER!!! Her BROTHER is inserting his PENIS into her VAGINA and EJACULATING in it!!!!!! The whole deal is now that her father is dead, Wideacre has been entailed to her brother, and he's the new squire. And she's obsessed with the land, so she starts lusting after him. And he's kind of a big pervert who likes to be beaten and whipped, and gets off on pain. And he lusts after her too. And so they start having hot and heavy incest sex, and she has his baby! Unbeknownst to everyone, she tricks his wife into adopting the baby and pretending its hers, and then her brother tries to end the sex. And so she puts together an S&M room, and leads him there and dominates him until he's sobbing with lust! She whips him until he bleeds, and then she gets on him and bounces on him till he's about to come, and then she gets off and SLAPS his penis and CUTS it with her ring, so that his sperm sprays out all mixed with his blood on his stomach.

SO SICK!! The last thing I read was their mother accidentally walking into the parlour while he was humping and grunting on her, and so some shit is about to go down. The last thing you want if you're being humped by your brother is for your mother to walk in and see his pasty white buttcheeks flexing so he can put his brother-rod into your sister-hole.

I can't handle this book. It's making me ill. I can read really fast, and usually a book will last me one or two evenings. If I drag it out a lot, and only read 20 minutes before bed or something, I can make it last a week. But I am loathe to read further in this book, and so it has put a complete stall on my reading schedule. I can't decide whether I should just stop the book altogether and burn it along with the remaining two books in the trilogy, or if I should just push through the nasty incest and horrible patricide and predictable matricide, and just finish the damn thing.

I will now end with a beseeching haiku.

Brother sister love

Shouldn't involve genitals

Don't put that in there

This is going somewhere

When I was in grade 8, our school took us on a trip to Quebec City. It cost maybe $150, maybe $250 per student...I can't be sure anymore. But I remember I was very excited to go. There was a big buildup to the trip, and we did fundraising by selling very large boxes of microwave popcorn. I remember when the shipment of the popcorn came in, we stored it in a supply closet on the main floor of the school, and when you walked past the supply closet, you would be hit with the unmistakable aroma of fake salty microwave popcorn butter. As a bright-eyed eager beaver and Student Council Vice President (coming in second to Kim Russell who blew me out of the water with her KFC - Kim For Council campaign, but ahead of Kevin Poon who was a very good friend and extremely well-respected brainer who walked to the high school to take grade 9 math every day), I actually think that I participated in the distribution of the popcorn boxes after school.

In Quebec City, I roomed with Nina Nayar, Karen Gaettens, and Jenn Rees. I think the third girl was Jenn Rees. I'm fairly certain. In any case, our room was one of the best, it was huge, and very very comfortable. My mother bought me a black purse that converted to a fanny pack, so that I could safely store the $50 she had given me for spending money. I remember that one night we went to have a nice dinner, and Nina ordered fettuccine alfredo, which is one of her favourites. But there was egg in the dish, maybe in the noodles. And Nina is allergic to eggs, it makes her tongue super itchy. That's why every year for her birthday, her mom would make ice cream cupcakes. So she sadly couldn't eat her dinner. After dinner, I got a tea with milk and sugar.

I got a caricature drawing of myself in Quebec City. It was the first comical caricature I had ever had, and I got hooked. I would later go on to have caricatures drawn of myself in any city I visited where I could find caricaturists. This particular drawing turned out to be the most racist one I would acquire. I had tiny slanty eyes, and huge - nay, gargantuan buck teeth, and the only thing that caused it to resemble me were the glasses and the little mole-freckle I have on my upper lip. The drawing also depicted saggy breasts and large saggy hips. I was only 13, and I was very skinny, with no boobs to speak of. But I loved the drawing...I had long since developed the ability to laugh at myself. Aware of my awkwardness, I wanted to be the first to laugh, because that way no one could make me feel bad.

On the bus ride home, Liz Reynolds got sick on the bus and threw up in the coach toilet. (I'm quite sure that this was the trip - there was another trip we took in grade 7 to Ottawa, and that could have been the actual vomit incident, but I am fairly confident that it was the grade 8 trip to Quebec City when this occurred). Liz Reynolds would go on to become the first of my friends to lose her virginity. She had sex with Steve Potter in grade 9. It was all very gleefully shocking, and I clearly remember her telling me that they knew they were young, but it "just felt right". I also remember that Bon Jovi's Always was their song. Maybe two months later, the relationship had degenerated, and it was "all about the sex". So they broke up. Liz owned a cream coloured sweater that I always admired.

The smell of Liz's puke on that grade 8 (or 7) day was really terrible. It was several degrees beyond sick, and I'm surprised that no one else started yakking in response to this odour. It's all the worst things you can imagine about the smell of vomit, times a hundred, because you're on a bus for 6 hours driving home from Quebec City. Plus you're only 13, and the days of puking weekly on a university building after 20 drinks at Alfie's and humping some horny dude on the dance floor who tried to put his hands in your pants while you gyrated in his face were still far in the future. The smell of the hot sticky vomit in that stuffy cramped coach was beyond anything I had experienced before. And I was trapped.

Everyone else on the bus agreed, and some of the girls got out their aerosol cans of some cheap underage whore fragrance. This was the kind of thing you can buy at Shopper's Drug Mart for maybe $4. I want to call it "Malibu"-something, but I can't say for sure, because my strict classy Chinese mother would never in a million years let me buy something so trashy. As much as I wished that she would. The girls emptied their pre-teen stripperwhore fragrance cans into the air in an attempt to mask the odour, while poor Liz sat on the floor of the coach with her head between her knees.

The result was a sickly sweet tropical perfume smell, with strong, occasionally overpowering under notes of vomit. It was a sickly sweet tropical vomit smell. The perfume smell was a relief, but the vomit smell underneath could not be ignored, because you KNEW it was vomit. The entire ordeal lasted for a good long time, and the scars are still on my soul.

Okay, this is where I was going with this:

I didn't have to go the washroom all morning today. Usually I'll go about twice in the the morning, and one of these trips will involve poopie. But today, nothing came down the pipes until after I had eaten my lunch. This is unusual, but no matter. The important thing was that stuff was indeed moving. I walked down the hall to the washroom and pushed open the door.

THE WASHROOM SMELLED LIKE MALIBU-SOMETHING AND LIZ REYNOLDS' VOMIT.

The nasty smell hung in the air like a thick moist cloud, and as the odour met my nostrils, all these vivid memories of that Quebec City trip came rushing back to me, and suddenly I was a 13 year old girl again sitting on a bus trying not to breathe in the stench surrounding me.

The assault left me so disoriented, I didn't even think to turn around and use another washroom. I confusedly found a stall and went in and lined the seat with tissue, and sat down. I sat, pushing and waiting desperately for the smell of my own feces to travel up to my violated olfactory area. When it hit me, the relief that flooded through my body made the blood rush to my head. I was gratefully sucking in lungfuls of my poo smell, just to avoid the nightmare smell of Liz Reynolds' vomit.

Of course, as my pooing came to an end, the Malibu vomit smell came pushing back in, persistent, insistent, and all-pervasive. I held my breath and wiped my bumbum and pulled up my pants, and flushed the toilet and ran out and washed my hands, and staggered towards the washroom door. Upon stepping out into the hallway, my stomach gave a great great lurch, and I stood there gagging and coughing, trying to expel the malodorous gases from my poor besieged body.

It was horrible. Horrible.

I don't have anything else to say. I'm physically and emotionally drained.

Hold me.

Conversations at Bedtime

Eric and I were snuggling down for bed last night. He lay on his back and I cuddled my head into his shoulder, slinging my arm over his midsection. He had one arm behind his head, the other around my shoulders. Eric clearly was feeling lazy and tired. I clearly had the closest access to his crotchal area.

Eric: "Adjust my balls...pull them to the left..."

Carol: (pauses...adjusts balls...pulls to the left...)

Eric: "Ahhhhhhhhhh okay. That's what I want to do all the time."

Carol: "...pull them to the left?"

Eric: "No, move my balls around...all over the place...constantly..."

Carol: "....."

Eric: "Having a ballsac is so annoying. Balls."

Carol: "....."

Eric: "....."

Carol: "This is so going to be blogged."

Eric: "...yeah it is."

I will now end with a balls inspired haiku.

Testicular sac

Grab the scrotum, pull it good

O futility!

Obligatory Post-Holiday Post

I hate it when this happens, when I neglect to post for so long out of sheer laziness that I don't even know how to address the entire fiasco of the holiday or anything that has taken place. I know I bring it on myself. But here we go...

1) The holidays actually weren't so bad
I luckily don't have anything in the calibre of the trainwreck holiday tales of my contemporaries. Tales of torrid sobbing and mobs with pitchforks...not my bag this year! We spent Christmas Eve with my family, Christmas Day with Eric's family, and New Year's Eve with some friends from university. I gots me stinking drunk at the Annual Cooledge Christmas Spectacular, and was too drunk to make the trip back home to North York, thereby requiring Eric to drive me to my mommy's house at 1:30am, calling on my cell to make her wake up and come unlock the deadbolt, then taking off all my clothes and throwing up in her washroom. Other than that, I have not much to say here. Great families, great gifts, great food. Whoo-hoo!

2) The coming and going of the High Definition Boxing Day Purchase
We went to Best Buy on Boxing Day, thinking we'd check out the great savings, and talked ourselves into buying a 40" Samsung LCD HDTV. It was very exciting, and it wouldn't even fit into our car! We had to drive our car to Eric's house, and pick up his family's minivan, then Eric and his dad went and go the TV and brought it back to our condo, then they came back to get me, and later that evening we set it up.

Unfortunately, a flat screen LCD HDTV looks like ass unless you have a high definition cable feed, and high definition monster cables, and a progressive scan dvd player. And since the sound quality on LCD televisions are notoriously bad, you also need a new surround sound system. Eric was sad and disillusioned, and we took the tv back and returned it. Which in restrospect is quite awesome because now it's like we have $2000 of extra money.

3) So much sex
For some unknown magical holiday reason, the sex occurred every day. Every single day. It was like old times, back at Queen's! I actually think that Eric wrote to Santa, and that's what he asked for. It creeped me out, but I felt compelled, and I couldn't stop.

4) Costco rape
Why do we keep going back to Costco? Last week we went to buy a single big box of Swiffer dry refill cloths. We left with $65 worth of Swiffer dry refill cloths and Ziploc freezer bags. How does this happen??

5) ShinyPants
We finally - FINALLY - got to see my best friend and erstwhile lover Peggy for the first time in one and a half years! I love Peggy, I absolutely LOVE her. And to my soul damaging loving jealous horror, that bitch got skinny! She's an intern in hospitals all over New York City. Along with her hot intern boyfriend. They're Grey's Anatomy, they do rounds and see patients and operate on people together. I asked her if they have sex in the oncall room, but she said that no they didn't...but on occasion they go out to the parking lot for "breaks" in the car. But I digress. That bitch got skinny!! A diet of coffee and no sleep has made her shrink into this tiny curvy sexy bombshell, but with unshrunken boobs. I'm going to convince her to go into plastics, and then when she's got her own clinic, I'm going get her to make me look like her.

6) There is no item 6
I wrote the number "6" down and then couldn't think of anything to put in it. So that's the end of the post. I will try never to let such a long break occur again.