Owner: The Domestic Minx URL:http://thedomesticminx.squarespace.com Join Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2007 02:32:44 -0500 Rating:0 Site Description: Being a minx is delicious.
Add a big dollop of domesticity and you could have a recipe for disaster.
A hip-swinging, shot-slinging, globe-trotting member of the jet-setting elite leaves her expat world for housework, teenagers and a chance to write her Site statistics:Click here
red wine 2007-04-17 12:01:10
Black fingernails, red wine.
I wanna make you, all mine.
A lot of people, underground,
you wanna get there
you gotta go straight down
"Nothing more excellent or valuable than wine
was ever granted by the Gods to man."
Plato
Tonight I am mesmerised, transfixed by a dark, almost black cherry liquid pouring out into my glass, the scent of blackberries, earth and a subtle whiff of grilled meat filling my nostrils.
There are notes of chocolate and deep deep berry spices that fill my head.
Further investigation reveals a lingering velvety mouthfeel of dried cherry flavors, black licorice, and a definite richness on the palate.
Two glasses later, my mouth is thick and full with flavour, my tongue is enveloped with shrivelly fruit flavors coupled to coffee and vanilla accents, sharp edges have softened and my head is swimming with carmine desire, my body rich and ready for exploration and devastation.
My body sways to tunes unheard, my lips forming words, spoken unheard, my
kinky boots 2007-04-19 07:27:01
Batten down the hatches, lock the doors, stay inside and hide the credit card, for
Something Wicked This Way Comes.
Winter approaches and with it march the Boots.
Oh boots, sweet boots.
I cannot hide it. I need therapy. I am the owner of a full blown, growling, snarling boot obsession. I am the Imelda Marcos of boots, the fanatically flagrant female fiasco of the foot fetish. I cannot help myself. I have 35 pairs of boots and counting.
For those readers whose weather is entering a warmer clime, you will no doubt be laughing, stashing away your boots with glee, exposing your moist wintery white footy flesh to the sudden peek of sunshine and reaching for the sandals.
But on this side of the world I enter my most dangerous period. The shops are alive with boots. They call, they beckon, they lure me with their siren song, their leather smells reaching out in tendrilly fingers of decadence to entice me. I touch them lovingly, each pair, my hand running their length, my fing
the minx thinx 2007-04-21 11:31:21 Before you begin to worry, dear reader, that the following tale of
Surprise and Sudden Fame has gone to my head, I regret to tell you that
It is already Too Late...
I am in shock.
Not only have I received an award, I have received it twice.
I am Domestic Minx, Thinker Extraordinaire.
My adorable and delightful friend Margot, aka The Impatient Blogger, and a brilliant one at that, awarded me yesterday with the most delicious of prizes:
The Thinking Blogger Award.
As I was recovering from the surprise, struggling furiously to contain my suddenly enlarged head (with huge thinking brain inside it) I received news via my regular palaeontological read, Fish Feet, that she has awarded me the same honour.
To say I am chuffed and swollen with pride is an understatement.
The honour, however, has Responsibilities, and has presented me with a conundrum so vast that I have since developed a monstrous migraine, emanating rudely from the right hand side of my bulbous brain.
In gratitu
the decadent, darling & delicious diarist 2007-04-23 02:28:18 "We don't see things as they are. We see them as we are."
As Domestic Minx and keeper of my own deliciously dysfunctional diary, I find it therapeutic, if not wholly necessary, to retreat on occasion to the inspiration of my eternal muse and most deliciously decadent diarist,
Anaïs Nin.
I had just started university as a journalism student when Anaïs Nin's "Delta of Venus" leapt provocatively from the library shelf right into my desperately naughty Catholic schoolgirl lap.
For a cocooned coquette, the vision of an undeniably naughty girl sitting astride an old chair, dress pulled up at the side to reveal her stockinged thigh with its proud glimpse of bare flesh, was more than a little enticing.
EROTICA, displayed proudly beneath the title was too much.
I was mesmerized and the naughty little book quickly found itself squirreled into my bag.
Later, in the privacy of my bedroom, closer inspection revealed a deliciously sordid world, filled with the sort of social danger Read more:darling
the key 2007-04-22 13:11:33 The life of a Domestic Minx is filled with daily surprises.
If I am lucky it is a thoughtful parcel left
by one of my menagerie.
Often, however, it is a curious mix of relentlessly accumulating detritus; bread crumbs, cat hairs, sand and fluff.
But this morning there is something special.
A key.
Small, silver, lonely and lockless.
Its identity unknown, its origin uncharted, it is a mystery. An enigma.
Ah, the lonely key. Is there a sadder object?
Separated from it's lock, it is a thing redundant and adrift.
There is a world of sadness in the purposeless key.
Perhaps that is why I collect them, rescue them.
I have sixty five now.
They are all special. I know where they all have come from and I know a little of their history.
They hang purposefully from various cupboards and hooks, some dangle blackly against whitewashed walls, others rest quietly on cupboards and shelves.
There is the intricate tangle of keys from Santorini, a wardrobe key pilfered from a
yoga 2007-04-28 12:02:58
The soul that moves in the world of the senses
and yet keeps the senses in harmony,
finds rest in quietness.
Bhagavad Gita
I love yoga.
Connecting and aligning the earthy minxiness of my nubile body to my magical inner self is something that brings me peace and harmony in the constant turbulence of my domestic world.
These days, however, I choose to do yoga alone.
I have my tv. I have my dvds. But more importantly, I have my privacy.
This is of incalculable importance to me, but not for the reasons you may imagine, dear reader.
I am not shy. No. I am not self conscious. Neither am I uncomfortable with my lithe and lissom frame.
It is simply that I am incredibly naughty.
Naughty to the point of foolishness.
And I simply can't help myself.
Throw me in a room with 20 other women and a downward dog and inevitably there will be biting of inner cheeks, snickering, snorting and ultimate laughter. Expulsion from the class laughter...
I have been removed from three
what you see is what you get 2007-04-27 14:01:31 I am tired of the deceit.
For far too long I have been guilty of spinning a line that does me no justice, undermining the complexity of my character and deluding the dear recipient of my comment.
What you see is what you get.
Have you said that of yourself?
I have.
It is a lie.
It is a lie because I simply cannot guarantee the result.
I cannot guarantee that what the person thinks they see is what they will be getting.
"What you see is what you get?"
Is that based on my physical person?
I'm not a big package. I'm small. Petite. Tiny.
More Fairy than Amazon.
More Molehill than Mountain.
I pray there is not a "Big Things Come In Small Packages" expectation.
Will there be tears when they discover I'm not a Tiffany diamond in a small blue box?
Is it based on how I look?
I am a minx. Decadent, darling and delicious.
Not perfect but very, very tasty.
I'm a Cabernet Sauvignon, improving with age.
And herein lies the first delusion.
First impressions are of
a minx in the making 2007-04-26 02:26:31 If an oak tree from a tiny acorn grows, then perhaps it was not entirely inconceivable that the small, skinny and profoundly unfashionable girl that I once was would, one day, arrive at some small measure of credibility and become A Minx.
Perhaps even a Domestic Minx...
It was late in the sixties and my father, indelibly English but harbouring discontent with the Land of Hope & Glory, decided to uproot the family and take them across the seas to the convict outpost of Australia.
After fearful dreams of loin-clothed natives arriving in the night to spirit me from my mud hut I arrived on the shores of my new home to find not a horde of marauding Aboriginal warriors but instead a mocking and scornful party of first grade children. Dropping me off at the school-gate the implausible attire of my father had stopped small children in their tracks. One look at my father's version of Australian Casual: short sleeved shirt and tie worn with shorts, long walk socks and sandals had sus Read more:making
i had it maid 2007-04-24 11:54:01
After what I am about to tell you, dear reader, it should come as no surprise that the very thought of sweeping the floor once more of it's vile and relentless detritus is giving me a migraine.
It should come as no surprise that the idea of scrubbing the wholly inappropriate white bathroom of it's eternally accumulating soap scum induces nausea.
While you may have come to expect such aversion to disagreeable duties from a domestic minx, it is not simply the result of indolence and indifference, I assure you.
It is the result, I fear, of pampering.
Oh, I have been pampered, and I have been spoiled.
I have had a Maid.
In all truth, I have had two.
Both times while in Indonesia, engaged during times spent in the lonely and deeply unfashionable outposts of various mining ventures.
It was the thing, you see.
Western women adrift in the jungle with nothing to do but clean and carry, and a veritable clamouring of native women wanting to do it for them, for a mere pittance.
It was
wisdom, and lack thereof... 2007-04-29 10:50:10 It is difficult to be cheerful today, dear reader, for I am ILL.
No, it is not a stomach complaint, or the all too common result of a red wine indulgence.
I am afraid it is the result of Denial.
(And not the denial of which you may be thinking, for I will have none of that.)
No, it is the result of sticking one's head in the sand, or up one's bottom, if you will.
It is the result of Inaction, Denial and Procrastination.
For those of you who still have, or once had Wisdom Teeth, you will know a little of which I speak.
I have Impacted Wisdom Teeth.
Two. Right there at the back of my lower jaw, snarling, squirming and growling with such vehemence that my life has become unbearable.
The fact that they should not be there is of great consequence.
The last time they performed like this was deep in the jungled mountains of West Papua. The locum doctor, a witty, wiry and thoroughly decent chap from London, whose last post had been in one of the Motherland's prisons, told me,
la dolce minxa 2007-05-03 13:44:41 If you can lose your Mojo, can you lose your Minx?
Is she innate and intuitive and as memorized as riding a bicycle, is she a groove, that once remembered, one can slide back into, or does she atrophy and close over from lack of use?
I pondered this question today as I basked in the delighful and delicious company of my darling friend and sister-in-law, Simone.
With her long chocolate locks, flashing eyes, perfect teeth and pouting bosom, Simone is the essence of la Dolce Vita.
She is Sex Kitten Minx Italian* style, a veritable Baci of kooky kisses and Yummy Mummy.
Intoxicatingly delicious, her smile has been known to melt the hearts of the misguided, her laughter reduce the unwary to jelly, her touch enlivening and effortlessly flirtatious as a warm breeze on la Bella Costa D'Amalfi.
But it is an impossible enigma.
For the girl sees none of it.
Simone, once dangerously delicious and minx accompli has become
Oblivious To Her Own Charms.
How is this possible? Has she l
tattoo 2007-05-02 11:27:13 It's a fine line between pleasure and pain.
You've done it once you can do it again.
Whatever you done don't try to explain.
It's a fine, fine line between pleasure and pain.
Pain.
Oh, she is a cruel Mistress.
The past few gruelling days of Dental Torment have seen me cowering in her wake but now, filled with the bravado of the foolish and recently drugged, I laugh in her face.
Ha ha! You cannot touch me now, cruel tormentor, for I have my drugs, my drugs, oh my sweet, sweet drugs..
which makes me wonder how I ever survived The Tattoo.
For many people, the primal penetrating nature of the tattoo
is one of the most excrutiating things they will ever experience.
It must be said that most people also choose a relatively innocuous and weathered body part, such as a leg or arm, for their initiation.
But the Minx is not one to do things by halves.
One day perhaps, if you're very, very lucky I may show you The Tattoo.
But don't be disappointed if she is not revealed to you
barbarella minx vs the bad molars 2007-05-01 00:29:08 My wisdom teeth refuse to back down.
The molars know it's just a matter of time before they are flushed from their stronghold and sent straight to Intergalactic Hell.
So they are putting up the fight of their lives.
It is a grim resistance.
A steady and unforgiving barrage of analgesics has dulled their assault but the cruel and relentless struggle within my mouth rages still.
Knowing their fight against enemy gums is futile has not stopped them in their quest for freedom. In defiance, they have pulled something barbarous from their arsenal.
Infection.
Creeping, cruel and calculated, ragged barbs of pain, scarlet and pulsing, have taken dominion of the central control system in a raw and angry assault.
Swallowing, talking, the very act of breathing is difficult as corruption threatens communication systems. Deadly tendrils of evil twist and twine, penetrating north as savage whispers of conspiracy bark now against my ears.
Hush, cruel infection.
Quiet now, harsh tormen
my girls 2007-05-05 12:17:21 How do you feel about your breasts?
(My male readers are not required to answer this question...)
I love mine.
I often tuck my hand down into my bra and give them a little squeeze, a little
"hello, yes, I love you too' fondle, perhaps a tweak of the nipple and a gentle cupping. Sometimes I forget that we're having drinks at the Cottesloe Cafe when I do this and mothers have covered their young children's eyes and my husband has had to remind me, as he rearranges his trousers, that breast cupping in public is lewd and inappropriate.
But the squeezing, cupping and fondling behaviour is my way of saying thank you.
Thank you to my girls.
They've been good, the girls. Despite the swelling funbagginess of two pregnancies,
the tweaking, pulling, sucking, stinging, sweet nourishing goodness provision of breast feeding, a subsequent but short lived period of deflation and the inevitable passing of the years, they have remained loyal and true. Suffice to say, they have never le
the devil in the details 2007-05-08 03:43:37 The Devil and I are friends.
I see him whenever I can.
In fact, I see him everywhere. He's in everything I do.
Lurking, hiding sometimes, especially in the details
.
Oh yes, the Devil is in the details.
And he loves me because I can see him, when everyone else just passes him by.
Never one to see the forest for the trees, I am often at pains to see The Big Picture, distracted instead by the minutiae, the sub particles and those details.
We have a love/hate relationship, the details and I.
While I often willingly accept another's blindness to them, I simply cannot ignore them myself. My dalliance with them is immoderate. I tweak incessantly and with fervour.
My attention to uncommon details is excrutiating, obsessive.
And random.
It is not unusual for me to deliberate over the structure of a paragraph for an afternoon while dirty dishes collect on the sink. I will paint a wall five times to get the right shade of white while four weeks worth of bills lay unpaid. With re
sunday sleepy, soft and slow 2007-05-06 14:02:08
Bliss, a Sunday peeping splash of sun
through curtains white and open still
to warmth of yawns
that tingle, fingers lingering,
kisses sweet, so soft and slow.
Body sleepy skin and eyes still closed
to teasing touch that rouses,
rousing, so arousing.
Stay in bed
today, please stay.
So stay in bed...
Oh dear reader,
I have an idea.
And an invitation...
if you would like..
Would you?
Would you like to visit me, today
at home,
even though, perhaps, I may still be half asleep...
Oh, you see, the day is slow, delectably slow, and the sleep surrounds me still with such mellifluous and miasmic lullaby that I cannot and will not be roused...
And it is sunny, sweet and warm, so lusciously, lazily warm.
Luxuriating cat-like, I stretch and yawn, body basking in the slow glow of Sunday,
Oh, so truly decadent, darling and delicious am I, today.
Please stay.
Just make yourself at home while I brew us some coffee...
the flasher 2007-05-10 03:11:46 When I was a teenager, it was common knowledge that one simply didn't visit
The Nude Beach. It had A Reputation.
That, of course meant it quickly became a pit stop for some of my more pathetic male friends in their relentless search for titillation. But while the promise of sunkissed breasts bouncing freely and in profusion was a potent invitation, the reality was somewhat disappointing. Perving from the sand dunes revealed a rather more motley collection of body parts than expected. There were more flaccid members and leathery scrotums than perky breasts and a good deal more elderly members of society than young.
Surprisingly, however, the lurking of my male friends disturbed a hornet's nest of masturbatory activity in the sand dunes, the private and furtive ministrations of multitudinous voyeurs creating a clumsy exodus as they struggled to leave with dignity and pants in order.
Which was the main reason one didn't visit the Nude Beach. Perverts.
So you can imagine my
face off 2007-05-14 01:53:15 It is with heavy heart that I write you this morning, dear reader.
For I prepare to do battle.
My guns are cocked, aimed at the Axis of Evil; those most loathed of Dental Deviants, the Fiendish Foes of the Oral Undergound, the much maligned, malignant Molar Monsters.
The Impacted Wisdom Teeth.
Their removal is imminent, their collective arses quaking now as the countdown to our face-off begins.
And a face-off it will be.
As we speak, my man the Doctor prepares his arsenal.
Probe - check
Scalpel - check
Pliers - check
Drill - check
Gum Scissors - check
Syringe - check
Anaesthesia - check. double check.
The battle will be gruelling and there will be resistance.
These bastards are not coming out without a fight.
But I am ready.
My loins are girded. My jaw clenched. My sedation prepared.
Think of me dear reader as I prepare to face my foes.
Let the War of Dental Terror begin.
I'm ready.
Lock n Load.
Yippee-ki-yay, Motherf*ckers!
ode to pollcocker 2007-05-13 06:00:51 I love my Mum.
Mother's Day affords me the delicious pleasure of thanking her for all she has given me.
And oh, how my Mum has spoiled me.
She has showered me with her love and bestowed on me the pride and dignity gleaned from a life with humble beginnings, yet lived richly and with integrity.
She has stood stoicly and unwaveringly beside me despite all the silly mistakes I've made, defended me against those who would cause me pain and lifted me up high for all the world to see.
She has given much more than she has taken and then passed it all onto me.
She has given without expecting and loved without measure.
Deliciously funny, infinitely kind, amusingly child-like and blindingly beautiful, she is my muse and my friend.
It is with admiration that I smile at her elegance and charm, her deliciously blowsy blondeness, her blissful and endearing naivety and her enduring belief in the power of Love. She is a beacon of beauty and light. A tower of strength.
She is also impo
Madame X - the queen of everything 2007-05-12 11:17:52 She keeps Moet et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet
'Let them eat cake' she says.
Just like Marie Antoinette
Oh, morning has arrived,
my day is here and I awake to a sliver of light
falling across my suddenly royal and deliciously naked body, warm and gently bathed
in a splash of petals rose and sweet.
Oh sweet Today, It is Mine
and I will have my pleasure,
and you sweet subject,
proud protector,
shall be my paramour.
Come to me, first pleasure,
and see how my regal nipples rise to touch your fingers
gently smooth and softly probing,
my body warm against your flesh
insistent, proud and pulling deeply
into desire that thrusts it's aching arching gasps,
the utterance of My Name.
Oh, for I am Madame
X
and I am Queen of Everything
and I will seek sweet Pleasure on My Day
Champagne my dear!
Let me drown in the bubbles
tartly tingling
teasing my lips as it runs down my chin
in laughter Moet,
glasses crystal clinking over bodies wet with bubbly bliss
and petals,
sprinkled over
the pub 2007-05-11 14:35:02 Ahh, the Pub. I love The Pub.
There is nothing more heartwarming, more unifying than The Pub.
The smell of beer, the clink of glasses, the laughter of good friends, the good cheer.
We headed off to the Balmoral tonight for unabashed celebration.
The company my husband works for has just been purchased by an International organization and it's good. It's all good.
So there was beer, there was wine (a lovely Wolf Blass Shiraz 2005) and there was good cheer..
What is it about a pub and a corner pub at that?
This one wasn't trendy. It wasn't trying to be. It was cool and easy and familiar.
The clientele were diverse and friendly, the music instrumental, guitar.
If I couldn't hear her, I could see Sarah Blasko on a muted video clip. There were young, old and in between. Mostly there was smiling and that's always a good thing.
I smile a lot and it's a rare thing for people not to smile back. So there were sore cheeks and even a bout of spontaneous shoulder squeezing.
the extraction 2007-05-16 11:20:16 The aftermath of battle is as cruel as the fight.
I am weary.
A grim battle has been fought. Casualties lay broken and bleeding on both sides.
My dental foes, those cruel tormentors, the vile insurgents of molar menace, have paid the price for their uprising.
Cast aside now on some toxic medical waste dump the Unholy Trio stand as a reminder to all impacted wisdom teeth that the price for such torment is Extraction.
Oh and the Extraction was a process exacted with military precision befitting the ruthless nature of such a bitter exchange.
Prepared for a troublesome altercation, the Doctor had my back, and my gums.
Strapped, geared and ready for action, his ammunition stood cocked and locked as I prepared for the assault. Oh, there was gnashing and grinding in the trenches as the molar malignancies gave it their last shot but a taste of the big boys dulled their cries, silenced their wailing and paralysed them in a shot.
As it did me.
90 minutes of grinding, wrenching, slic
mule jam 2007-05-18 06:48:34 μαρμελάδα μουλαριών
Mule Jam!
No, it's not a mucilaginous concoction of feral horsemeat boiled down to a gelatinous sugary spread.
It's a cry heard when three or more mules, while making their way up a mountainside, attempt to round a corner simultaneously, wreaking havoc for downward moving traffic as well as for their own pack. Confusion is usually accompanied by braying, a frantic tinkling of multitudinous bells, the cracking of a whip and the gruff and pointed derision of the muleteer.
It was a cry heard many times in Santorini.
Days spent in this island paradise were a delirious blur of sunshine, ouzo, fetta, grilled octopus and Mythos beer. A mule ride was the only sensible way up the mountain after an afternoon of decadence by the beach and certainly the most fun. With little more than a bikini to protect me from the worn leather hide of the saddle and the coarse hair of the mule, there would be an intoxicating swaying and swaggering upon the back of t
foreign tongue 2007-05-22 05:15:04 While currently embosomed in the fluffy and feathery nest of Home,
embodying and epitomising the very essence of The Domestic Minx,
I like to remember the times when I was much more of
an International Minx of Mystery.
Oh yes,it is true.
I am the hip-swinging, shot-slinging, globe-trotting member of the jet-setting elite who left her expat world for housework,teenagers and a chance to write her book.
I have spent a good deal of time in the International Departure Lounge.
I was the one who, under quite the storm cloud, fled the mountains of West Papua for the streets of Paris, spending a week gallivanting and parlez-vous vous parlez françaising with my friend after enduring unmentionable torment at the hands of a vile and jealous overseer.
It was I that subsequently languished at my Nan's house in England for seven days before spontaneously calling over my two sons from Australia to join me for a week of sun and adventure in Turkey followed by a few nights of seedy bars an Read more:tongue
the right ghia 2007-05-20 04:41:09
Smooth. sleek, with sexy curves and a snug, yet saucy little arse.
I could well be describing The Minx...
yet instead I describe my fantasy,
my fantasy car.
Oh how I dream of sitting deeply within her soft leather seats to drink in the dark and dusty beauty of her walnut smells. I long to stretch my stockinged leg and touch with pointed toe the pedals at my feet, my fingers running smoothly the edge of her splendid wheel, steering me to who knows where.
I turn the key, the throb of her engines purring beneath me as my hand shifts the gearstick smooth and eloquently fluid, a growl of pleasure rising from that saucy box as we hit the open road.
"Ooh they're all looking at you, you saucy scarlet minx! With your shagadelic smile and your ruby red rocket rump, you leave those other cars at the lights."
Oh and she does!
I cannot dream of another.
Those new cars hold no appeal for me with their generic lines so juiceless and uniform, their passionless parody blending into the ta
10 things 2007-05-24 17:49:07 I have been tagged.
No, no, it doesn't hurt.
In fact, it's been a rather pleasant exercise and self-indulgent in the nicest possible way, especially as it emerged from someone who I admire very much.
My tagging is courtesy of Whit, warm, witty and wonderful writer of Honea Express,
where his daily musings on life as a Dad at home is both hilarious and deliciously honest.
My mission, as I have decided to accept it, is to tell you 10 Things about Myself...
Oh dear, only 10...
Here goes -
10 Things About Me
1.
I am a Jet-Setter. I love International Travel and have indulged myself extensively.
While I love to go somewhere I've never been before, I am particularly beguiled by the fractured and textural charm of ancient places, alive with history, culture and art.
As a travel companion you will find me tireless and adventurous, imbued with insatiable curiosity and a desire to immerse myself fully in the culture and squeeze as much as possible from my excursion into the Read more:things
bottoms up! 2007-05-23 19:40:28 God in His goodness sent the grapes, to cheer both great and small;
little fools will drink too much, and great fools not at all.
Tidying away the last of the breakfast dishes this morning, I caught sight of a singular wine glass, overlooked last night, standing lonely and bleak on the floor by the sofa.
In the bottom of the glass lay the syrupy residue of Shiraz, around the rim a smudge of lipstick, Anna Sui sweet and scarlet.
A faint, exhausted whiff of wine escaped the glass as I picked it up, and for a moment the smudge of fingerprints and tired decadence, the whiff of past excess and indulgence, washed over me in a flood of memory.
Oh how the wine has flowed. I confess to an immoderate deluge of the fermented beverage passing my lips over the years, it's smooth, seductive ticket to The Dark Side an irresistible temptation.
Yes, I have visited The Dark Side many times.
All on the wings of the Gods and their beguiling nectar...
It doesn't take much.
Three glasses usua Read more:bottoms
kiss me better 2007-05-27 05:49:40
When I kiss you, I can taste your soul.
Carrie Latet
I am despondent.
I am deprived and desperate.
For something that I need to live and breathe has become painful.
I need to Kiss.
And I can't. It hurts.
You may remember the torment I have endured over the past two weeks, dear readers.
You may recall the diabolical pain I felt at the extraction of my dental nemesis.
The torment continues...
I fear the trinity of unholy molars are having the last laugh, their reign of terror reaching out beyond their toxic medical waste dump grave, paralysing me with their vile tools of Armageddon.
There has been a cruel and unusual price to pay for the death of those fiends.
Not only do I still feel the pain of their removal, I have been left with a patch of numbness on my lower lip.
It is the sort of numbness comparable with the side effect of any dental appointment. But for two weeks this has continued, leaving my lip paralysed and unfeeling.
Which was bad enough.
Until last night Read more:better
the illustrious minge 2007-05-30 19:16:04 My minge is behaving oddly.
I fear, sadly, that she is becoming a Diva.
Her mood swings this morning have been so erratic that I have been forced to scowl in her direction.
There have been bouts of Unabashed and Shameless Sauciness, followed by long periods of Pouting; shy, reclusive cries of wanting to be alone, juxtaposed later by Flaunting, flamboyant and flagrant, caution thrown to the wind in careless abandon.
I am at my wit's end.
She is impossible.
It appears Fame has gone to her head..
At least that appears to be the result of Our Very Interesting Discovery.
Every now and then, I like to peruse the administration portion of my site.
I enjoy wandering the corridors of The Domestic Minx, see who's lurking, where they've originated, how they have found me, what peculiar sequence of links have lured them to my bosom. It is a compelling curiosity.
What particularly arouses my interest is the visitor who has arrived via the Google search box .
While it is hilarious to ex
doggie do, doggie don't 2007-05-29 05:42:11 This little doggie is dancing with danger.
She has wee wee weed all the way through my home
and found herself at the top of my black list.
Oh, I must sound cruel.
Look at her.
Sweet, lovable, pretty little Chi Chi.
How can such an innocuous, innocent little creature
be guilty of anything remotely naughty...
Surely, she is Incapable.
I suggest to you, dear reader, that while she is entirely capable of
diabolical naughtiness, perhaps Incontinent is the better word.
Here in the Colony we are entering the time of year that all sun-loving Italian Greyhounds loathe - The Cold.
Italian Greyhounds fear the Cold like they fear Death. There is shivering at the very thought.
Small, delicate and frightfully lean, they have little body fat, thin skin and a fine covering of hair. With their fragile and simpering frame, the prospect of facing the cold air is diabolical, the very concept of going outside for a necessary urination so abhorrent that it is quickly abandoned in favour of sly
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