The Is it a Sex Toy or Dog Bone quiz

I could have sworn, cross my heart and all that, that I wrote about sex toys vs. dog toys on this blog earlier??

Maybe it is still one of these now more than 200 drafts that I will never finish and could just as well be deleted.

But since I didn’t write about it, then Buzzfeed decided to do something to get ahead of me and created the Is it a Sex Toy or Dog Toy quiz for you to take.

So what are you waiting for?! Go take it and score better than I did. (I aced it of course).

This test also says everything about why I DON’T have a dog. I mean just imagine a dog running around in the house with the wrong kind of toy in its mouth when there are guests present.

Ew! Anyway…. Just sidetracking while trying to write about what I didn’t know was supposed to be a date.


Woke up to these messages on the phone

Woke up to these message on the phone this morning – and I am sorry that I left it in the living room and didn’t bring it with me to bed last night.

“Where are you? ”

“I miss you so much!!”

“I can’t live without you”

“Please please please reply to me soon”

“Are you coming by”

“Don’t tell me that you are sleeping while I am giving you my soul!!”


“I so need you”

“I hate you!”

“I need to feel your kisses. RIGHT NOW!!”

“I promise to be yours forever”

(mms with boobs).

“I am coming over to you now and god help you if you are with some one else”.

“please please please please”







(About one hour later)

“OMG Wrong number. I am so sorry”

Drinks with colleagues

I usually don’t go out with my co-workers for an after work drink.

Don’t ask me why, because I sure could use one, more often that I get one.

But I just don’t feel comfortable about getting drunk in front of my co-workers, because, well, when I get drunk then every woman look gay in my eyes – and I tell them so. Plus I just get embarrassing or loud, with no filter at all. Not that I am not loud or tell people what I feel when I am sober, because I do. Just in a more hmm “polite” way?

I don’t know. I just feel that when I a rare time have been drinking, what comes out of my mouth, is less “lady like”, whatever that now might mean, but I quite often feel that I might have to excuse myself the day after. And I don’t really want to do that too often in front of my co-workers.

So surprisingly I agreed to join a few days ago. Think it was Monday, last week.

Yes, I should have written about it earlier.

But ended up post-work half late in a very small and very brown pub with really good (seriously) art on the walls and just as insanely good colleagues and ex-colleagues on the bar stools. And yes, journo’s can be really interesting company. Obnoxious and self-centered sometimes, but interesting with great stories to tell.

It was one of those nights where I firmly told myself that it would be just a single tiny drink and then home. Also, because I didn’t take into account that there are many establishments that do not take credit cards and especially not international credit cards, but only the local debit card. So my colleagues were gracefully allowed to buy everything for me that evening.

It always gives me a lot of guilt to let others pay for me. It’s the fear of being seen as one of “these” parasites that is seeded deep in this lesbian here. But I surround myself with happy, sweet and generous people who think my shame is really stupid. So we became thus somewhat more tipsy than my original plan. And it lasted much longer too.

We talked of course about homosexuality. There always comes a point every time I speak within the alcoholic sphere and / or professional acquaintances when they ask me the question:

“When did you get out of the closet”.

Or said in another way, “When did you know that you were gay”.

It is just one of those questions that comes up when you got a kitschy ceramic figurine of two Dutch milkmaids kissing each other, on your office table. Yes I know it is kind of ugly, but I also think it is cute and does no harm.

Well, not in Netherlands. At CNA or ST it would have been thrown out the moment I left the desk – or I would have been told to pack my things and get the f… out. But my desk is currently not in Singapore.

Plus it works very well as a holder for my hair bands and other knickknack that need a spot to hang on.

Okay, side story…

As I was saying,

I was in the middle of the my first time story, when I noticed that we got extra company.

My colleague and freaking effing K… K as in my ex, MY Swedish ex. K, had come over to our table.

I did know that my colleague had begun dating K., and I should be used seeing an ex with someone else this late in my lesbian life. I mean aren’t we all dating someone’s ex’s in the small circle of lady loving women? But it is K! K with the wonderful hmm voice and perfect body. K, that broke my heart several times over and that I haven’t really heard from in some time, but only exchanged emails with here and there, after a great and stunning relationship that still to a certain degree is haunting me this day today. Exactly THAT K.

I so jealously regret the email that I send to her not long ago.

“Hey K, dear. My colleague is coming to Stockholm, and I was wondering if you could give her a good time there?”

Oh and a good time she gave her.

K. made my colleague dump her bf and is now going to move to Stockholm to live with her. All this in just a few short months.

The move that I didn’t dare to do, when she was posted back to Stockholm after living in Singapore for a number of years, and now she was there in front of me.



K., was not my first and she is not my last – absolutely not my last. But she was the one who I for a long time felt that she was the one. Well, more than anyone else and I still feel that insane heart flutter when I see her eyes and quirky smile again. It’s been more than 4 years and I still felt like an insecure teenager when I looked at her.

She was more than an “let’s move in together and nest” after the first IKEA date. She was the perfect partner to me.

I guess that we all have that one in our life who were the perfect storm to us. Or at least I hope that everyone get to feel that at least once in their life’s. But she was that for me, and only a single perfect other have come close to her, and I don’t dare to let that one get her claws in me like K. did.

Now she was there with my colleague and I couldn’t help feeling jealous in every way possible.

Everyone knew my colleague, who then in return introduced K. to everyone around the table, got some chairs for themselves and sat down, even more cramped than ever with so many people at that small place.

I of course had to remind a colleague of mine to stop staring and act normal, while I tried to act equally normal and brave.

By the way; It turns out that the reason for that art is so good is that hungry and very thirsty artists through time have been able to pay for drinks with wall decor, when money were scarce. That, I think, is a crazy good idea. Actually also a shame – but probably also part of the charm.

But what was supposed to be a single drink, turned out to be several more than I should have, and I ended up with yet again Bambi legs, way past midnight, trying to locate my bed and with a promise of making dinner for K and my colleague before they had to drive back to Stockholm with all of my colleagues things.

In a Volvo of course.

And why did I now promise a thing like that?


Damn, Damn, Damn. I know that I will regret that evening too.

Used panties and a ‘proper’ girl

I think I’ve always felt a bit like a ‘nice girl’. Maybe it’s a completely erroneous assumption, but it is probably because I came from a … hmm … something nicer background than the majority of the people I hung out with did – or at least my mom told me that I did. Dad was always “yay diversity!”, “but don’t get pregnant with any guys who has tattoos on their dick” – Yes he actually said that when I was a blushing 16 years old!

Well I was definitely the only one who was forced to do both piano, ballet and posture lessons at an early age – yes I had a parent who dreamed of a prodigy child…. like so many other f..k’ed up Singaporean parents…..

I’ve never really tried my hands at shoplifting, I drank my first beer (too) late, never been the one standing outside Zuok puking myself to pieces and I have never smoked either.


I got this feeling of being a little too neat and orderly that today is reflected in that I walk around with a pretty hefty anxiety that if I am acting too naive, spoiled or overprotected.

As in when I browse around on the interweb and see an advert for the following:

“Purchase and sales of used sex toys and lingerie”

.. And my first immediate thought is, “no, that is freaking disgusting to sell! Who in the right mind would buy anything like that as a secondhand item!? It’s some of those things that just have to be bought as new!!”

I did manage to think that thought to the end, before it dawned on me that, that might actually be the whole point, that it was used and dirty.

I told you that I am sharp and cunning – after a while.

From there, I wondered if there really was any real profit to be had in this kind (why not triple the value of my H&M panties). It may well be that I am naive. But I am also both a lesbian and a beancounter when it comes to money.

So I investigated.

But it turns out that it’s pretty limited in what you get for your old knickers unless you are providing video and photographic evidence. And that is there where I say stop, the idea of a dirty old man – yes I can’t in my wildest imagination believe that any women would buy second hand panties to well, you know.. – get to smell anything that I have previously worn is too urg, odd.

But it turns out that it’s pretty limited in what you get for your old knickers unless you are providing video and photographic documentation. And that is where my modesty makes a full stop.

So I am an little uptight when it come to that.

Uptight much?

Yes, just a little I guess.

My gaydar is completely driven by alcohol

When I get drunk, two things happen :

1) I fall
A successful night out is not complete without abrasions on the knees. I do not recall that I fell so much when I was younger. But I am also in heels now.

2) My gaydar goes crazy – or it just gets stuck on gay.
Everyone is gay.  It’s crazy. And bordering on embarrassing (as opposed to stumble around with abrasions on my knees)

Late in the evening I always find some poor inadvertently hetero girl, like a nice gorgeous one (read: one I could have had the urge to… , if I weren’t in a monogamous relationship, or in a current messed emotional up state, or whatever..). But then I begin to explain to her that she is a lesbian. And notice: I don’t tell her that I think that she is a lesbian, and I don’t ask prying open questions whether she ever thought that she might be lesbian?

No. I tell her that she is a lesbian.


The delicious lady typically replies politely and politically correct that she has never been with girls, let alone thought about it, but she obviously is not outright dismissive of the possibility that the modern civilized human being that she is.

Or she says, “Arrrrhhj, I don’t believe that I am” To which I reply, “Oh yes you are. It is so obvious.” and so on.

I can be pretty convincing at times and I seem to have initiated a few sexual crises here and there. But what to do for the sake of humanity – right?

Poor things, they get so confused sometimes.

Shaved, Trimmed or Jane with the jungle?

Cameron Diaz like Bush! That should have been the title of this blog. But I felt that would be too much and give me and the blog more attention than I needed.

Oh, that’s what she said!

But no, not that way, not like she finally changed team and joined the rainbow side. She in her recent book, advocate for us to grow a thick bushy jungle, you know down, there.

Now then.

It’s a good question and I will in no way make me wise on “what women prefer,” because I believe that we are quite divided on the matter.

But! Personally, I’m not into shaved pussies / cunts / va-jay-jays at all. With a little double standard from myself, because I have for years done the trip to get myself waxed every 3rd week. But no more! I’m tired of it and have been for quite a while now.

I think it’s become pretty unsexy,  actually, when an adult female somewhat resembles a too young teen between the legs . But there are certainly differences of opinions and I’ve been with women who preferred the style both on themselves and on their lovers. Well, they can pack up when it comes to me now.

Actually, I really like looking at the “jungle”, as you call it. No, not an completely untrimmed jungle that have never been touched for the last 20 years. I prefer something that have been well trimmed or kept. You take care of the hair on top of your own head right? So maybe it is time to look further down and do something there too?

And mostly because it’s a bit annoying to get hair in your mouth.

So a trimmed triangle – like relatively short hair where there should be room for my tongue . That must be the answer. But I speak definitely only for myself. However, I have the impression that most of my girlfriends – lesbians as well as straight women – like roughly the same haircut. A controlled naturalness, so to speak.

It’s been a widely active discussion between friends and even female co-workers through the time and I guess this is something that we can actively discuss without hating each other or join the trenches in the sisterhoods drama’s – right?


One for you! It’s friday after all – right? (prob. NSFW)


This post is not something that you necessarily need to look at in the office (it is, in other words, NSFW, as they say over the Internet). Therefore (hopefully, if this shit works) tucked just behind that little link below where it says that you can read more.

But because you probably need to look over your shoulder and see if anyone is gazing at your screen, before you stick your earbuds in your ears and planning to listen to some beautiful harmonies with associated and vibrant images, then it does not mean that you don’t need to put those earbuds into your ears to listen to what is going to happen, because you do.  

You will not regret it. I promise… You will be smiling and your mouth might like mine, open wide while your think WTF?? And you will in just two small and quick minutes become a little wiser in life – for example, on the cervix. And then I have certainly not said too much at all!

Wasn’t it great and beautiful? I somehow love the Swedish even more after this video. Oh yes, there is a behind the scenes sequel that is very informative (but not equally educative like the one above is) that show how they made it.