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You’ve Got Sex

Without Rhiannon in the house it's become painfully aware that I have nothing in common with my roomies. Especially not Morph who gave me a Christmas card that said, Santa isn't real, but Jesus is

There's suddenly a vast expanse of time in the evening that I used to spend ranting and raving to Rhi about the latest pile of unwashed dishes or Mysterious Pubic Hair, because a pube shared is pube halved. But now we speak on the phone a few times a week and I'm reminded how alarming fast things are changing at the moment, our lives branching off in all sorts of crazy directions.

I'm getting the hang of Solo Shopping. If I plan ahead and put my debit card in my coat pocket I can whip it out quickly, avoiding purse-rummaging and cashier eye-rolling. It occurred to me tonight when I noticed that I'd once again filled the trolley with yogurt and ingredients for vegie chilli, that I could get even more efficient with the grocery shop if I just bought the same thing every week. Then I could just cook the same thing every week. I could live off the motherload of chilli for days on end! And with well-timed dashes to the microwave, I'd be able to avoid getting trapped in dreary kitchen conversations.

Tonight's shop was slowed down a little by the Rhiannon Memorial Coat. She didn't want it anymore so I snaffled it, even thought it's a size too small, particularly snug in the arms. It's white with a fluffy collar, so imagine a furry, partially immobile marshmellow. It's very warm though, and as long as I have a good approach it's not overly hard for me to sit down while wearing it. I didn't take it off while shopping, coz then I'd have to waste time wrestling back into it. So I just had to make sure not to buy anything on a high shelf.

As I was shuffling out with my shopping I passed a harrassed looking mother with two little boys. One of them had just learned a new word and was determined to say it as much as possible even though he didn't know what it meant.

"You've got SEX!" he cackled to his brother. "SEX!"

He tugged his mothers hand, "You've got SEX!". He said it gleefully like it was a terrible disease.

He stopped right in front and peered up at me, "YOU'VE got SEX!"

"Ha! Fat chance in this coat."

On the bus home a bunch of students got on at the university campus, looking very young and serious. Why do university students look so serious? I guess it's so you use up all your seriousness quota then, so in later years when you wind up doing apparently serious things like getting married, all you're able to do is laugh hysterically.

My ponderings were interrupted when the bus driver suddenly slammed on the brakes, sending one of my shopping bags flying off the seat. I was powerless to stop it, bereft of movable arms in the Rhiannon Memorial Coat. A pot of yogurt landed SPLAT in the middle of the aisle and exploded everywhere.

"WHOA!" I said very loudly, just like Keanu Reeves.

The students all stared at me as I slowly slid off my seat and tried to manoeuver myself low enough to pick up the pot with robot arms. What possessed me to say WHOA? Was it to convince these kids I was just as cool as them? What would their generation know about Keanu anyway?

As I kneeled in the aisle and swatted at the mess with tissues, I couldn't move my hand quick enough to stop the word popping out again, "WHOA!". It's time to start buying groceries online.

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About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.


23 thoughts on “You’ve Got Sex

  1. Totally Bogus Yogurt Adverntures 🙁

    I have a coat like that which I wear in Winter. Its funny when I go to the gym, coming out looking like a sweaty pink puffy marshmallow wrapped in a fluffy white marshmallow.

  2. Oh that is too funny. “Whoa!”

    I had a yogurt disaster of my own today- what a coincidence. Spilled the darn thing all over my lap. I have no idea how… don’t ask.

  3. I found you again yay! Read your blog a month or so ago but couldn’t remember how I got here. Must have taken the long way around but here I am again. (had a theory about the bra in loo thing – she could have taken it off while sitting on loo, left it in lap, wiped rear end, and it slipped in cause she was drunk?)

    I had a pot of Nestle mango yoghurt today and at the bottom of it was somehting that was not a piece of mango, of any bit of mango I’m familiar with. Perhaps a fragment of the kernel inside the massive seed? Yeah that could have been what it was. I hope so. See blog for more :*)

  4. Ha ha! I hope the yogurt didn’t explode on your white coat. I think those students were boring stick in the muds. Every once in awhile it’s nice to hear a “WHOA!”

  5. I once had a mid-calf length skirt that only allowed for shuffling at best. There was certainly no room for leaping off a bus which I did in a moment of grace and forgetfulness. Splat like the yogurt. And an audience to watch me pick out the embedded pebbles from my palms. But a cute skirt it was.

    Thanks for bringing me back and giving me a good afternoon giggle.

  6. Girl, you are going to get me in so much trouble at work – everyone looks at me strangely whenever I chortle while reading your blog!

  7. WOOHOO I have now read the whole of WNP’s archive.

    and mighty funny it was too.

    aside from the sad and poignant bits of course.

    Is Gareth a Doctor? or was that my misreading it.

    Al the best.

    pol x

  8. Ack!
    Congrats Shauny, from one ex-Canberran to another! I have been a bit ‘out of the loop’ shall we say and now I come back and you’re getting married?! Anyway, congrats!

  9. Happy Australia Day, Shauna! Just had a picnic and swim at Balmoral beach and a massive feed of fish and chips. Yummo. Now listening to Triple J Hottest 100 which is being broadcast live from Big Day Out on a perfect Sydney summer day. Homesick yet?

  10. We interrupt the usual commentariat as the news has reached us that What’s new pussycat is among the top expatriat blogs …

    Speech … Please

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