Horny

So this is post number 69. I was thinking of telling some tale of sexy curves, erotic fantasies, leather, rubber and natural highs that drugs can't beat.

Instead I will just show you a picture of my new bike I picked up on the weekend.

If it goes quiet for a while here it is because I am off riding and having big boys toy kinda fun.

If it goes really quiet for a long time, you know I have left a greasy stain on a road somewhere.

Rest assured, if the latter happens, I had a smile on my dial right up until it was obvious it was going wrong :)

A word of advice to the jilted

Use me for sex.

Use me for entertainment.

Use me for the conversation.

Use me for the dance.

Hell, use me to cook you dinner or take you to a movie. I don't care.

I am all about the experience and if I don't want to do it I wont play along unless I really like you.

That said, don't waste your time trying to get back at an ex by parading me around as your new, better than the last dude, piece of fluff.

I don't care but it is waste of energy.

Girls, when you get dumped by a guy there is a little secret that you need to know.

He does not give a shit who you are fucking next. He dumped you.

He will be happy to see you fucking anyone because it means you are not fucking him.

If you make a scene of being seen in front of him and he turns to his mates in deep conversation do you want to know what he is saying?

"Poor sod, I give him three weeks before he realises......."

He will be happy you have moved on and will pity the guy that got you next.

He will not be jealous.

He will not be hurt.

He will be happy that it is me, not him standing in your arms.

As for me, I will be thinking "This is not cool, this is out of whack....think I need to put the brakes on this real soon..."

"Caio bella. It was fun for a few nights but I don't need this shit."

At least you know what I will be thinking when you do the show for me with my replacement :)

Making waves

For those that know me, I don't sleep a lot. I stay up late and start early in the morning.

Most people will spend about one third or more of their life asleep, for me I think it will be less than a quarter. Granted it is probably not healthy but that is a whole other issue.

Despite this I love a good bed. The mattress on my workbench is one of my most indulgent purchases and I smile every time I slide between the sheets as it embraces me. Until recently.

I have discovered an old lover. She was long forgotten and relegated to the too hard basket of bedroom conflicts. Now I find her in my mind, tickling my fancy and making me wonder if I could go back to her.

That 70's/80's fad, the water bed has re-entered my life.

Walk back in time with me for a moment. At about age ten, my parents upgraded from a single bladder, hard sided water bed to a baffled, soft sided model. After some begging and pleading I got myself the queen sized cast off.

So began a love affair that ended in the way of all great Greek tragedies....well minus the sodomy.

For those that have not enjoyed a water bed I must explain the attraction. First of all is the temperature. Water beds are heated but the key here is that with careful adjustment with the seasons you can tweak them to the perfect temperature.

In winter, you make it slightly warm so that when you get under the covers there is no shivering or squealing as your nut sack hits the cold sheets. Better still, in the hot Aussie summers you can dial the temperature down a little so that the bed actually draws heat from your body meaning you can comfortably sleep through a 35 degree night with the covers on, never breaking a sweat.

The second benefit is the support. I can't explain it any other way except to say that there are no pressure points and to me it just feels magical. The bed hugs you back.

Finally there is the wave assist when making the sex. It is the original green power solution, where every third stroke is free. Seriously, if you get your timing right it is bloody amazing.

Having said that, it can be a bit like having an extra partner in the room because if you forget that this is a three way team it can get pear shaped pretty quick and normally ends in an accidental head butt, bruised kidneys or a chipped tooth.

The sea is an unforgiving mistress and water beds are a close relative.

So back to the original story.

I had a few years waiting for the first pube to sprout after getting my first water bed, then a few more waiting for a girl to appreciate the idea. There was then more time wasted waiting for my parents to not be at home and the girl to be in the right place, right mood and well you get the idea.

Fortunately I was young, flexible and had good balance. In no time at all I had mastered the bed and the novelty value of being the only boy with a queen sized water bed paid dividends.

Then the romance soured.

Girlfriend after girlfriend balked at the idea of a lifetime of water bed goodness. Despite an upgrade to a wave less model, like princesses of old the bed was too hard, too soft, too difficult to get out of or too scary to make love in. My attachment to my bed and resolve that I would find a woman that loved the water bed as much as me finally failed in about 2000 with my move to Melbourne.

With a tear and the exchange of cash, my bed went to a spotty teenager with a grin and sense of adventure. I knew I was selling him a bitter sweat pill but some things just have to be learnt the hard way.

Over time, the pain of the loss faded as I came to grips with a normal bed. The cold sheets and sweaty nights became the norm and she was forgotten. Relegated to the rose coloured memories of milk in bottles and near misses with fireworks.

Until recently.

The girl is tall and wears short skirts. She is a master of 3.5 inch heels and is as graceful dancing in them as she is just walking down the street. Her hair reaches her bum but looks as great up as it does down. Spilled over a pillow it is worthy of a photo shoot.

She is smart and has a wicked sense of the naughty. I thought she may be out of my league but I am always up for a challenge. A few dates in and I was back at her apartment with things going swimmingly when she got a serious look on her face.

"I have to warn you about something before we get to the bedroom..."

Oh fuck I thought...she's got the clap...or her period...I hope it is just her period.....

"My bed, is well, not normal. It can take some getting used to"

No...it can't be...."Different how?" I asked trying to hide my excitement.

"It moves..."

"Vibrates or ripples?" I asked, gently chewing on my lower lip in anticipation.

"Ripples....it can be a little tricky until you learn how to use it to your advantage."

"I think I love you...." I just blurted it out like an amateur, nearly blowing with excitement.

Needless to say it was like riding a bike. The bed, not her. She is like a freaking bronco but the bed is like an old friend.

To be honest I am yet to just slip into it and fall asleep without an hour or more of aerobics but I wake feeling more refreshed, happy and rested than I have in years.

I could almost put up with just about any nonsense from this girl for no other reason than that bed. It has me staying away from home at nights and driving an hour to work rather than the 5 minutes from my own house.

Crazy stuff this thing called love.

Pushing tin

It is after 3:30am and I am feeling it in all the right places.

The big trip away was a pain in the ass. Sure it was fun at times but the weather was crap and the competition (not dancing) I was doing was adversely affected by it. The end result was a very expensive little jolly to drink beer, eat average food - read: crumbed and deep fried pig or chicken.

The other problem was that it also conflicted with preparations for a dance champs that were held on Saturday. My partner was well amused by the three week intrusion on our training.

As per my "Pumped" post, we won a heat and made the finals of a showcase competition. This was also tied in with a national freestyle competition where we had to defend the tile we won about 5 months back.

For simplicity, my dance partner shall now be known as HotStuff.

With the jet lag monster on my back after arriving home on Wednesday, I found that Memphis Steve and others had hosted a small party here and trashed the joint. I was eternally grateful Fingers left the Brain at home while visiting and the only damage was a pile of empty beer cans to wade through.

With no time to sleep or clean up, I was straight in to training for this comp. We had two sessions to get back up to speed for normal free style competition and a 3 minute song to finish choreographing and rehearse.

On Thursday night I figured we were stuffed. By Friday night it was feeling good but still a little behind the level we knew were capable of performing at. The routine was finished but not quite in muscle memory.

A ten minute rehearsal today proved again that we were actually stuffed and the vibe from Thursday was spot on. We crashed in both practice runs, forgetting moves and worse still, not dancing cleanly through the mistakes like nothing had gone wrong. It was demoralising with all the other competitors looking on smugly and writing us off.

I celebrated our readiness with a bathroom visit worthy of a vindaloo gone wrong while HotStuff sobbed in the girls bathroom. She swears she just got dust in her eye but we were both gutted and not at all happy with how the day was starting.

Picking ourselves up, the competition started and in no time we were straight through to the finals of our first event which is scored individually for guys and girls. A few hours later and we had made the semi finals of the main event too, the one were were defending a title at. The showcase was still a few hours off so we kept sneaking away between heats to walk it through and try to lock it into our heads.

With a clean run through the semi finals it was time for finals fever and things were looking back on track. We came out of event one with a second for me and first for HotStuff. Personally I was pissed at being first looser but that is just me. HotStuff was beaming and that was going to help for the final of the main freestyle event.

With the pressure of defending but confidence of having won before we took it all to the floor and bought home first place with a successful defence. It felt fantastic but was overshadowed by the impending showcase performance which we now knew we were going to be the first to actually perform.

With a freaking great white spot light burning out my retinas we slipped into the song with HotStuff working every hip roll and making the most of an expanse of 21 year old flesh running from pubis to boob that was as distracting under my fingers as it was to the spectators. Amazingly we nailed it all bar one move that we spontaneously replaced with another after a brief blank moment on my behalf.

Like a pro HotStuff just followed me where I steered her and beamed 4 beats later as we slipped back into the cory like it was always planned that way.

The torture was not over. Reality TV shows seem to have made it hip and cool to shove a mike in the hands of the judges and let them tear into competitors before holding up their scores for the cheers and boos of the crowd. This is a seriously non fun place to be when you have already hung your ass in the wind for the last three minutes.

Fortunately they either liked what we had done or were still finding their voice. The criticisms sounded mild compared to the bollocking some of the following competitors copped so we were very happy to have been up first.

The combined results of the judges and the spectators (everyone could vote) saw us take out third place and a whack of cash.

I am still stunned. I never expected a placing in the showcase.

With all the dancing done by 12:30am it was time to hit a pub and have a few beers. Being a bunch of light weights who had hardly eaten all day and had been dancing on and off for the best part of 12 hours, two pints did us in. That and they shut the pub and no one could be bothered looking for another one.

So here I am with three trophies from the three events I entered and feeling pretty damn happy with myself.

How good was your weekend?

Going, going, Gone

Been to busy to post of late, slack I know but hey, whay can you do?

Just getting on yet another plane to go somewhere cool.

Life sucks. See you on the other side.

Pumped

Some would say it is necessary to be humble in victory.

I think those are the same people who never win.

Early last week my dance partner and I decided to enter a competition. We had to choose a song, choreograph some sort of routine to it and commit it to memory before what is now last night. I think we put in less than 8 hours work total.

We are far from pro's at this and certainly have never worked on a showcase type performance before. Our opposition started preparing two months ago.

A final rehearsal this afternoon before the event had the butterflies in a frenzy as we crashed run through after run through. Forgetting moves, muffing the exits of others and basically feeling like we had made a very bad mistake entering. We were so fucked.

Our shared dinner was pushed around the plate and mostly left untouched, much to the amusement of friends who were trying to reassure us we would do fine.

They had not seen what we were going to do.

Our turn to perform came around too soon. The lights felt like a solarium but floor was clear and ours to play on.

We were off and on auto pilot. Two moves in and a weight came off my shoulders. We could do this. We own this floor.

And we did.

We won.

It is now 2:30 am and that was nearly five hours ago. I am still pumped.

My dance partner is curled up in bed with her boyfriend and just messaged me.

"Hey Champ. Hot like wasabi baby! Thanks, you rock!!!"

Can't wipe the smile of my dial right now.

Random thought

Watching the Olympics the other day I was struck with curiosity about the medals being issued at the 2008 games.

There is obviously a lot of importance attached to these items.

On one had you have the recipients who have spent the best part of their life working towards the achievement, and on the other is the host nation who attempt to make a design that captures the event and the flavour of their nation.

I wondered that as China moves into a position of global power if they had enough self awareness to make sure that the medals carried those words that the western world have embraced with open arms.

"Made in China"