Dirty Dialogues For The Up And Coming Porn Star.

Don`t think I`ve ever met anyone so beautiful in real life. I must admit I do like the occasional ganders in the celebrity mags. I like to console myself that in all probability nobody really looks like that in the real world. So it was pretty distressing to open my door and find a real life, living and breathing goddess entering my genkan.

"I am sorry," Goddess breathed through perfectly pouty lips," I hope I am not late!"

"No,...not at all!" I replied, my eyeballs homing in on perfectly shaped eyebrows and luminescent skin. Wow. Even if I spent the next twenty years dining solely on produce grown directly outside of the Fukushima Dai Ichi nuclear plant gates, my skin would never glow like that. Oh God, did I check my `beauty spot` for errant hairs this morning? Where`s a stone? A big one I can go crawl under.

"So, Ms Goddess. Please tell me why you want to study English?"

"Well,"  she sighed, sliding me a coy glance," For my job..really."  For God`s sake. Get a bloody grip woman and stop staring at her like that. She`s going to think you are a closet lesbian.

"And what is your job?" I enquired.

"I am in the entertainment industry," She gushed as I made the appropriate `wow` responses. "And as I feel that you have a very wide mind, I`d like to tell you that I work in porn."

"Oh....,"  as my mind raced to find a pertinent answer. " Wow!" Yes. Wow! But what do porn stars talk about? In fact, doesn`t she know it`s rude to talk with your mouth full?  I have a ton of textbooks but none entitled `Dirty Dialogues For The Up and Coming Porn Star`. Throw me a new challenge and make my day.

"My stage name is **** *****," Goddess ventured on," Maybe you heard of me ?"

"Yes, I think I might ......." To which she smiled and gave a little satisfied shrug. Why the hell did I say that. My stock reply to anyone who tells me they had something published,something shown at  an exhibition, a small part on a TV ad. "Yes, I might have" sounds a lot better than "Never bloody heard of you!"  The only porn I`ve seen recently was when the kids accidentally switched onto the porn channel on cable TV. Luckily, it was just a few seconds of a close up of a woman`s face . I explained she was making those moaning noises as she was upset at her brother for smashing her latest Lego creation. Went down well. No more ado. All remote controls now child proofed. Please don`t ask me to critique your performance.

In my younger days, I dated a hunk of a guy with hair down to his waist. Total eye candy. The spell was broken every time he opened his mouth. God can giveth and God can taketh. He got a job touring with the `Strip-in-the-Dales`. A bit like The Chippendale's but up north of England.

" I want to branch out and my dream is to break into the American porn circuit," Goddess went on," So I want to improve my English and audition for bigger roles."

Wants meatier roles, I wrote down.

"Okay,! I grin," When do you want your first lesson?"

"You have terrific cheekbones," Benevolent Goddess praised.

"Well,...thank you!" I laughed in delight. Just a shame they are encased in 20 kilograms of unwanted padding with a control centre on top that likes to go awol on me.

There`s a lot more to this porn stuff than get your knickers off. They make it look easy but a lot of technique required. Wonder who Mrs Life will introduce me to next? It`s one giant learning curve....Bring it on,baby!

Racing to the Beat of the Drum.....

.....again. He must have timed his summer hols with ours. Lovely waking up of a morn and sauntering down stairs to a leisurely breakfast...well, in between the food fights and normal sibling warfare that is part and parcel of family life that is.....cruising out to the pools for an all day dip. Now he`s back. In the corner. Beating away on his drum most heartily with that stupid grin on his face. Where are the darts? And his bloody loincloth looks like it hasn`t been washed a while too. "Shut up!" I screech," I am going as fast as I bloody can!" 

" Mummy! Will you please stop shouting at the wall! " Bat Boy wailed, rolling eyeballs up in an enviable Exorcist movement, "No wonder everyone thinks you are bloody weird!"

"Stop swearing!" I admonish.

"Why?" Bat Boy counters, " You are always bloody swearing!"

"No, I bloo...blo..antly don`t!" I stammer back.

"Chill out,Mummy." smiles three year old The Booby Slayer.

"Yeah...chill out,Mumsy," adds Bat Girl," The world ain`t going to end if our bento is burnt!"

"When I feel stressed, I like to play with my willy," interjects Bat Boy.

"Thanks for sharing,love." I grin, somewhat forcibly." But we didn`t need to know that."

The drum beat notches up as I text hubby ` Your son is talking about willy sports in public again. Fatherly chat required tonight. Thank you`. Oh bloody hell, I can smell something burning.

"Bloody hell," shouts out Bat Girl," The pizza for our lunch box is on fire....again, Mummy!"

The drum beat fills my ears as I feel the house lurch and the smell of the sea assaults my nostrils.

"Coming!" I cry out, sounding like Alpha Dalek from Dr Who.

" I am feeling a bit stressed,Mummy!" cries The Booby Slayer." Can I play with  Bat Boy`s willy?"

"No, you can`t!" I firmly reply while attempting to put out the pizza bonfire....


    

Thank you Ma!

This is the life. I could get used to this. After the intense heat of the past week. I spot a neighbour`s head, bobbing along the top of my garden wall. "Lovely weather!"  I shout out in greeting. He laughs nervously. ( Most of the natives seem to get nervous round me for some unbeknown  reason.Must be my charisma.) "Make sure you close your shutters against the rain." he shouts over. " Thank you! I will!" I reply, eyeballs doing a roll up to the heavens shielded behind my Jackie Kennedy knock off sunglasses.

Talking about shutters, I tug at my top to ensure the booby twins haven`t done a Houdini in the tankini. Sarong is carrying herself very well in this wind. In fact, I`d better hold onto the curly wurly straw shaking with terror in my Vimto drink. A rumble of thunder heralds the  heavens opening and in gratitude, I hold up my face and embrace the rain. Rain that falls like the drapes of a million curtains. I can almost hear the plant life sigh with relief as I stand, holding my hands up under this humongous sports shower. A million tiny moisture beads bounce off my skin, refreshing and pummelling me. An image of me, stood under a breath taking waterfall, somewhere in the Amazon, all sultry waterproof liquid eyelinered up, a Cadbury`s Flake poised seductively before pouty lips...okay, I can dream on.

Elysium is disturbed by the sound of a shutter being unceremoniously dragged from above somewhere. Struggling to focus through a river of mascara, I see another neighbour staring curiously at me. "Are you okay? Typhoon Ma is hitting Tokyo!" She shouts over the wailing wind. I had to yell "Yes!" back twice before she nodded, laughed, shook her head and slammed the shutter closed.


I love a good typhoon,I do. Thank you, Ma! I`ll just finish my Vimto, the deckchair should stay put with my weigh on it.........

Ants on Toast Anyone?

Here I am. With my Rambo hairdo...but sweating even more profusely.....and a wee bit less muscle tone, thinking how aptly `slaving away in the kitchen` fits this moment. At least slaves in the galleys had the comfort of a cool sea breeze and spray from the waves. The airconditioning doesn`t seem to be making a dent in the heat at all but we do have water. Little puddles of it on the table where I sit, disrobing potatoes from their filthy skins. Once you`ve seen one.....

I thought the cat had peed himself at first. No, he ain`t incontinent. He`s just scared.....`of them`. Never mind that one `of them` is about as big as one of his eyelashes. There he is. Cowering on top of the washing machine.

The ants have returned to their summer vacation retreat. My house. In fact, I think a furious battle is being waged between several  clans of ants over squatter`s rights. I swear they are all wearing  differing tartan plaids. I just missed swigging down a few of them with my morning tea. Why can`t they just go and jump off the Chuo Line like everyone else?

And then begs the question? What if I`ve been on an ant diet already the last couple of days? Where exactly have these nomadic beings journeyed from? The Government can`t even seem to stop certain, contaminated produce reaching consumers. I have no faith in them being able to control insects. Are they radioactive? Is it even possible to buy a Geiger counter sensitive enough to evaluate the situation?

The cat isn`t happy. Coming across a rather beastie of a cockroach once, cat practically passed out. I think a mouse would send him over the edge. He isn`t a `working cat`. He`s more of an `ornament cat`. He does a great impersonation of a giant, furry cushion. 

Is it possible for a human to sweat this much and survive? Questions. Questions.Where`s the mop? I`ll have a think while I eradicate a generation of warriors.

Shaking and Baking in Tokyo.

No wrath like a woman scorned as  people are learning, with most dire and tragic consequences this year. Mother Nature flexed her perfectly manicured nails over the Pacific and another quake shook the north east of Japan Sunday morning.

There we were, buzzing along of a morn and then the house started it`s oh too familiar shaking. The trees outside started doing their version of `Thriller`, the water in the pool rippled as sunbeams glinted across it`s surface. Windows rattled as did my children's nerves.

On the days you wake up and don`t immediately wonder if another one will strike, it does.

However, I  must admit to becoming a tad wee blase to them recently. Make no mistake. The whole shaky shaky thingie terrifies me. It`s just that we`ve had so many aftershocks over magnitude 5 or 6, you get used to them.

I have 30 bottles of mineral water, non-sparkling, in strategic spots around my house. Bags filled with tinned grub and crackers hang on both floors. One sac used to be full of cans of beer but we drank them all to calm our nerves many a yonder ago.

I vividly remember one lunchtime. Sat with three Japanese mummy friends as the walls and windows started to rattle. Alarms rang on all four phones.

"No problem!" announced my friend," It`s only a 5."  To which, fears allayed we all resumed drinking and chatting as lamps and pictures swayed.

"More tea anyone?" I asked, brushing the light switch cord away from my face as it swung too and fro.......

You Look Radiated, My Dear!

It`s that time of year again. I`ve only been outside on the balcony a mere five minutes and can smell scalp hair singeing in the morning sun. Still....suppose it beats stinky armpits on the old pongometre. With all the austerity measures regarding electricity being `voluntarily` enforced, I`ll be reeking around Tokyo for the next few months. But I am not alone. Major companies have temporarily revised working hours and holidays, in order to conserve electricity. Train lines have reduced their schedules. I even heard that top ranking politicians are relinquishing airconditioning in their limousines.

"Well,Jubai!" I enquire of the cat, conked out in the shade," What`s in store for us today?" I tend to talk to the cat.....and answer back for him, as he can`t seem to organise a coherent reply in any lingo recognisable to me.

Mercifully, this time of year is `pool season` in Japan. All the preschools and schools have pools, much to the delight of the kids.The `super` pools open next weekend which is causing ripples of excitement amongst my mates and I but...... March the 11th still hovers even as far away as Tokyo. The Dai Ichi nuclear plant in Fukushima is still rather poorly and is leaking various obnoxious substances, some invisible to the human eye, out into the surrounding environment. Out in the stores, in dim lighting, you can see folk squinting over Kanji and checking out the origin of that harmless looking potatoe or cucumber,languishing innocently in a palm. I`ve taken to ordering veg directly from a farmer in Kyushu.

The fish is....well...rather `fishy` at the moment and certain types are just off the menu. Same goes for meat, some is `dicey`, some okay depending on the region. Infact, certain folk think it is better to risk eating products from China than homegrown produce in Japan. What`s a bit of food poisoning next to thyroid cancer.

You can check the radiation levels in the air and tap water on websites every morning. Now the schools very kindly issue regular bulletins on the condition of the water in the school pool.  It`s a gradual thing. A lifestyle that we`ve slowly acclimatized to.

Cesium,Thorium and other scary sounding substances with names I can`t remember let alone pronounce, banter around on everyone`s lips.I can imagine the talk at the poolside,this summer.

Mummy A. "Did you check the water levels on the billboard at the entrance?"

Mummy B. "Yes! All within the government`s revised safety guidelines.!"

Collective sigh of relief, as vigorous rubbing of sunscreen resumes on small limbs.

Mummy C. " Damn....I forgot!" Pulling out a calculator and consulting a chart.

Everyone in chorus. "What`s wrong?"

Mummy C. "I forgot. Little Hiro has a dental xray scheduled tomorrow. So...." More tapping on calculator," Today, we watched TV. That`s 1 mrem. He already has one crown...so plus 0.1 mrem....plus the spinach we ate this morning.........one Xray is 1mrem.......Minus that from the yearly average of 360mrem....." As we all watch on in awe,"Oh...okay. No problem. He can stay in the pool today!"

X-Rated Mummy.

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In The Trenches.....

What is it with kids,sickness and the early morning hours? Two does seem to be the magic number...2 am that is. Never 2pm. 2 warm,daylight hours,local chemist is still open, you can call someone for help,all will be well pm. Even if my lot have been ill during the day and I get them off to bed,all snuggled up,thinking the worst is over,the clock hand hits that magic number and hey presto. The various mini orifices of hell open their doors widely and souse any bed sheets and PJs unluckily in the vicinity.2am.....when it feels like the entire universe has conked out,when the darkness seems like a deceitful well wisher peering in through your windows and you can almost smell the peat torches burning as mummies wearing furry bikini type thingies from a millennium ago kept watch over young from marauding predators. Or that's what it seems like after zero sleep anyway.

As I place buckets in strategic positions,I suddenly get a flashback of Grandpa and the Van Dyke guy from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in the scene where Grandpa is complaining about the rain coming through his roof.I wish.....Beloved Bat Boy suddenly sits up in bed,screams something unintelligible and while my sleep deprived brain is trying to translate,an avalanche of what looks suspiciously like last night's Nikku Jagger (Noooo...Not the singer.It's a Japanese broiled meat dish.) launches itself with the velocity of an incoming meteor from outer space in my direction. I grab a bucket and manage to catch most of the torrent. 'Every cloud has a silver lining'.Even ones floating in a dark,dark sky at 2 am in the morning.I'm getting pretty sprightly at this goalie lark.You've got to watch the peas though.They're like metal pellets.Found one embedded in the plaster earlier.When I am in my eighties....maybe even nineties and folk comment on how agile and supple I am for my age,I will reply."It was all those early mornings up with my kids,jumping around the bedrooms,buckets in hands,deflecting rivers of ......"I keep shouting out to my kids "In the bucket,please" but they don't seem to be listening.Never mind,from experience,we've got a few more hours to get it right.

From downstairs,I hear my loyal comrade, the washing machine wind down from her spin mode.She totally understands the 2am factor too.Many a morn,I've lain my weary head across her top,the warmth and motion lulling me away for a few precious seconds. I'd pour a beer into the 'softener' tray if I thought it would ease the poor beleaguered thing.Summers in Tokyo mean that you can hang out your washing in the middle of the night and awake to it crispy dry.

The bedroom soon fills with the sighs of deep,contented sleep as dawn shakes her head and prises open sleep crusted eyes. The lucky so and so......

Walking Munchies For The Mosquitoes.

I only have myself to blame.I take complete and utter culpability for the situation I now find myself facing. A state of affairs so dire that my whole mental stability is threatening to commit mutiny.I don't know what overcame me....how on earth it escaped me but I forgot the mosquito repellent. The life saving lotion my mother dutifully sends over every May in preparation for summer. Forget botox...forget age defying creams that instantly lift the contours of the face to retrieve that youthful look...or Bobby Brown dark circle concealer,I just cannot live without my mosquito repellent lotion.I mean,do you think Catherine Zeta Jones or Kate Winslett would look as gorgeous as they do,covered in red,itchy,swollen blotches -constantly swearing under their breath as they endure another marathon itching session with broken off nails? Where would all that beauty paraphernalia get them then? I quickly swivel my head down in the direction of my calf.A deliciously,tempting piece of bare skin upon which ten and more black intruders now brazenly scoff.I can hear the crackling of radio as more circumnavigate my lower leg on their ascending flight paths. A speedy right palm slap takes five of the rogues out, stunning two as the rest of the cowards fly for the hills,throttles up. I watch as my three kids race around the park,their laughter tinkling along with a glass fish chime hanging in a nearby balcony.Summer in Japan is incredibly beautiful.....experienced gazing through a window,sipping green tea in an air-conditioned room.A room that is mosquito free,I hasten to add.My children are half Japanese and could be outdoors all day if I let them,only to return with two bites at the most.I,on the other hand attract the little fiends by the minions.I have this image of myself,engulfed in one huge buzzing cloud whenever I step outside in summer.One doctor told me that it is due to my blood being so healthy. Well,at the rate I am going I'll need a transfusion soon.Image of a mummified me on a park bench,lips curled back in pain,one hand curled for one last scratch suddenly flashes before me.I eye the UVA/bug net on the child buggy. Maybe if I wrap it around me from head to toe,they won't be able to get at me.Maybe if I wrap it around me and run around screaming,they might give up and go for easier drillings? It's not like I have any street cred left,I have three young kids and a face covered in red,angry blotches.I swiftly deliver a double palm slap to my face making the local drunk on the next bench lurch in surprise.The satisfaction of seeing those red ink blotches on my hand far outweighs the stinging in my cheeks.......plus the immense comfort gained from that quick whiff of Dove anti sweat zone and the knowledge that at least my armpits are still in great shape even if the rest of the exposed me looks like a smallpox victim. Forget the botox,forget the.......