To All You Born Again Virgins...

An interesting question was posed by a fruitloopmum fan last week, and now I'm seriously beginning to consider writing a loopy advice column. I've led an interesting and varied life and made so many mistakes that I reckon I'm the perfect person to advise people on what NOT to do.

Anyway, back to the question in hand which was posted after I'd written 'Divorce can be Wonderful' Which, by the way, I'm over qualified to comment upon, this latest being my second divorce. BUT, THE FIRST TWO HUSBANDS WERE JUST PRACTICE... OK?!

So, in a comment to this last post, a fruitloopmum fan called 'Starfish' who I think has recently separated/divorced, wants to know if , in my humble opinion, she can be considered to be "re-virginised" after only having sex about four times in seven years.

HELL, YES SWEETIE! ....and that's a really good thing, read on.

You see, I've been secretly joking for years that by the time a woman has gone without sex for a few years or more, she shouldn't be considered frigid or past it. Au contraire! It's probably healed over 'down there' and she should be considered a 'Born Again Virgin' and, boy are these BAV women dangerous.

Firstly, there's all that pent-up sexual energy just waiting to be released. Then there's the fact that these women have probably been in a miserable relationship (cos they've not been getting any for starters, as well as dealing with loads of other shit) and are just bursting at the seams to have someone show them some loving, physical attention. Add to this that women who find themselves in this situation and single again, are generally in the age bracket where they're considered to be in their sexual prime and BINGO they're suddenly, footloose, fancy-free and hot stuff!

Also, Starfish - and here's the icing on the cake - you've reached this wonderful status of the BAV in an era where it's far more socially acceptable to go find yourself a younger man! So stuff the old bugger that you were with and go for a younger version. I was amazed and stunned when I became single again and got continually propositioned by outrageously young men. First I thought that it was all a joke, but seriously the number of young men wanting to hook up with older women is unbelievable.

Actually, a discussion with someone whom I had reprimanded sternly after they'd shocked me with a hot (and unprintable) proposition, made it all very clear. I asked what the hell it was with these young guys who pursued older women. Where they perverts or something? "Well" came the reply, "If you can get yourself a cougar, then you're the man cos it's like a badge of honour, a real education.....you know what I mean?"

I told him to bog-off cos I knew his mother. Which of course I didn't, but he was so young that I might have. Now Starfish, I'm not suggesting that you go off and become Mrs Robinson or give out 'cougar badges' or anything, but hell woman, you could go for something just a snip younger than your last model and do your self-esteem the power of good.

Take it from me, there is nothing quite so good than to be told by some handsome hunk of a younger man that they find you sexy and beautiful. So, rejoice in your Born Again Virgin status and think of it a the re-birth of not only the rest of your life but your sex-life too. Get out there and shine like a star Starfish cos the sky's the limit and you're rocket fuel baby!

Divorce can be wonderful

I am in celebratory mood. Divorce can be a sad and stressful time for may people, but for this particular fruitloop it's a cause for much celebration.

Hands up anyone who's tried to divorce a narcissistic psychopath. OK, so in the absence of my being able to actually see you right now, I guess I should give the heads-up for anyone who suspects that they're married to one and wondering how to achieve such a mind-blowing coup.

Rule Number One:

Just remember, you can't divorce a narcissistic psycho, they wont let you. Use reverse psychology. Apply for a divorce. Wait about 8 weeks before they slap an anti-suit injunction on you. Haha! that's a good one, because they don't want you to divorce them, they have to divorce you.

Rule Number Two:

Be damn sure you have money to burn. I'm talking eye-wateringly, serious amounts of money that could be used for something far more constructive like your children's education or your shrink bills. You'll need the best lawyer you can afford. Firstly, because you have to deal with someone who is more cunning than a friggin weasel and has the charm of one of those guys who do tricks with a snake in a basket. You simply must have a lawyer who's got teeth and balls. Frisk the bugger's crotch and ask him to open his mouth. I'M SERIOUS. We all know though, that lawyers with a full set of teeth and mammoth balls don't come cheap.

Secondly, remember... the psycho will always try to out-do you. They simply have to have the best lawyer. It's a matter of entitlement. So, you can't be caught with your pants down and relying on the legal skills of a toothless, impotent, eunuch when he wheels in the big guns.

Rule Number Three:

Patience. Be prepared for the longest, most acrimonious, frustrating, expensive, divorce and settlement in f**ing history. The narcissistic psycho will get these expensive lawyers to communicate about all possible minutiae from weekly letters regarding access to the dog, to a spreadsheet showing who owns the contents of the bloody refrigerator. I jest not! Oh, and you'll need to sort out that anti-suit injunction.

Rule Number Four:

Keep your marbles intact. There will be times when you get to read and respond to their 100th solemnly sworn affidavit, and you'll wonder if you've lost the plot. These things are amazingly convincing works of fiction, and reading them will make you want to vomit...you'll probably want to slit your wrists too! DONT. Sure, they'll contain a grain of truth, but the truth will be so twisted that you'll doubt your own sanity. Reach for the diary, the photographic evidence, the forensic accounting report and the bloody Valium....but keep your marbles intact.

Rule Number Five:

When the decree absolute comes through, and he sends you a pompous message reading "I find it so very pleasing that I have finally stopped your divorce and divorced you" .......f**ing well CELEBRATE! You will be finally free of the bastard.

Today, I celebrated with a spot of fly posting around the village. This weekend I am having an enormous party.

BECAUSE DIVORCE IS EXPENSIVE..... BUT FREEDOM IS PRICELESS!

Mouthing Off

I'm mad as.

I'm still wall-kicking, door-slamming, talking-to-myself, angry-mad. I shouldn't be this angry surely.

Yesterday afternoon as I kissed my children off for a weekend with their father I committed a cardinal offence...I forgot to pronounce the 'T" in later - as in 'See you later". Seems I have picked up a bit of an Aussie accent and, horror of horrors....it came out as a soft 'D"

Now, the father of my children has always had a bee in his bonnet about accents and their relation to social class. In the past I have been absolutely, categorically forbidden to socialise with anyone who might be deemed to have a "working class" accent. Oh yeah, and that includes some of my family. Hell, I've been hauled away mid-sentence in the street when one of these 'offensive' people have brightly smiled and asked how I am! The man has even visited both school and pre-school to instruct our children's Australian teachers on the importance of correct pronunciation of "The Queens English".

I don't have to put up with his shit any more. I left it behind. Bollocks to social classes and superior, judgemental attitudes. Let's judge people by their deeds and not their f***ing words.

The superior bastard still felt completely free after 18 months to smugly correct my pronunciation of the word 'later' by shouting it at me in the street and in the presence of our children (who, poor things, shot me a look of complete resignation and embarrassment)

And the other reason I'm still mad?

Well, apart from the fact that this little problem is obviously here to stay, as a lovely English acquaintance of mine pointed out rather furiously recently..

"But he's got a f**king working-class, northern accent, can't he hear himself?"

(Think UK TV Coronation Street)

Too complicated to explain, but does anyone know of an elocution teacher prepared to tutor a psychopathic narcissist in the 'correct' pronunciation of baath and doock?

OMG.. Fruitloopmum on a Sex Site!

How the bloody hell did that happen?

Call me dumb, but I've not posted nude photos. I've not even advertised for kinky sex HONEST, but somehow I've managed to get my Fruitloopmum blog included on something called "Sexy Adult Posts"!

Oh F***k.

There I was last night congratulating myself on my newly learnt blogging skills. I looked at my reader stats and I looked at the links, and I looked at people who've left nice comments and gave myself a premature pat on the back. Well done Fruitloopmum for launching yourself wholeheartedly into something you knew bugger-all about 8 weeks ago and turning it into something that over 1000 people have enjoyed. Ok, 1000 people is infinitely small in the over all scheme of the blogging world, but it made me feel good - after all, it could have been only 40 hits....all from my mum.

Then, like any good ageing marketing guru, I Googled myself to see what that threw-up.....

Wow. I was really pleased that BBC online had picked up a couple of my posts (not sure how that happened either but I was chuffed ) Then, I scrolled down the Google page and lo and behold, Fruitloopmum is there on Sexy Adult Posts! Of course, I just had to click on the link and see what this site was.......

Well, if you're remotely interested, and to save you all the trouble of looking yourself, let me put it this way; I'm after a salacious picture of a beautiful young girl doing something odd with an ice pack, a link to 'Katy Perry topless: real or fake?' and somewhere just below the One Stop Porn Shop. I was speechless and confused because the Fruitloop posts that this site features are???

Is Chivalry Dead? and Update, Update - I mean, come on guys, you could've at least picked Vaginal Smoking. That I might have understood!

So, I'm not sure whether this is a coup or a catastrophe for Fruitloopmum, but it's back to the drawing board in my self-taught quest to understand how search engines categorise and produce links. In the meantime, I shall continue to write my innocently humorous little blogs containing swearing, indiscretions and body parts because 'FRUITLOOPMUM IS INNOCENT' OK?

One thing I know for sure though.....that nice mummy blogging site that I joined?......I reckon I'll get a ban any day now. And as for my future prospects of attracting sponsors? Well, I could always go for sex toy manufacturers.

PS ...Watch this space to see where this little post ends up featuring cos it sure as hell wont get picked up by the women's knitting circle. Oh, and give me your vote in the comments section because I'm innocent right?

Who is Fruitloopmum?

They seek her here,

They seek her there,

Those readers seek her everywhere,

Is she loopy or just plain dumb?

That damned elusive Fruitloopmum!

Hi Fruitloop fans. I got a polite but terse email over the weekend requesting that I submit my photo for inclusion on a mummy's blogging site. Uh-oh, sorry guy's no can do. Well at least not a real photo of me anyway. There are some very good reasons for this, and they're pretty obvious to anyone who reads my posts:

- I have recently made a dramatic and long-awaited escape from a psychopathic husband and have actually been writing humorous posts about him. Yeah, that pretty much confirms the loopy part of me. Probably not a good idea that he finds out about this though. You've all seen the film "Sleeping with the Enemy" right? Well admittedly, I haven't actually had to fake my own death (I just managed a disappearing act that David Copperfield would have been proud of - along with half the furniture one day) but that film is pretty close to my story. However, I don't want to fake my own death just yet. I've only just re-discovered fun, love and laughter.

- Even if I managed to escape the physical attentions of said psycho, I can guarantee that I'd be in court for defamation quick as. See, although many people have witnessed said psycho's behaviour, he's oh so desperate to make everyone think he's normal. My defence would be that I haven't written anything that is untrue, and I have the paperwork to prove it! But, I've been in court more times than the f**ing bathroom in the last few years thanks to this bugger, and I really don't fancy any further courtrooms just yet, thank you.

- Here's another really good reason for not identifying myself.....My posts are absolutely FULL of swearing, sex and body parts. In real life, I actually look like a sweet, innocent, yummy mummy. Hell, most of my casual acquaintances would be mortified if they knew about the real me. I would probably be barred from the parents association, the library and the women's knitting circle if they knew I was Fruitloopmum.

Okay, so my close friends and some of my family are aware of my identity, but I reckon they love me warts, wicked indiscretions and all ,and they're not likely to dob me in to The Psychopath or the school committee, but I still have to be careful. So, my apologies to anyone who is remotely interested, but I will not be posting my picture or revealing my identity any time soon. You'll have to make do with some colourful fruit loops. Come to think about it, I'll probably be barred from the nice mummy blogging site anyway once they actually read my blog!

Those three little words...

Dear fruitloop fans, it was like a scene from one of those slushy movies:

Sexy, hot woman (that'll be me then) laid snuggled up with beautiful, young, muscular lover. He stroked her hair tenderly as she nuzzled contentedly into the crook of his neck. She smiled to herself at this new-found intimacy and tenderness. It felt good.

Then, his deep, chocolate voice asked "Hey, babe, can I tell you something?"

Her heart skipped. She suddenly felt apprehensive. Were things moving too fast? Was she ready for the leap into a full-blown love affair? He was going to tell her that he loved her. She was certain. She took a slow, deep breath...

"Sure, you know that you can tell me anything"

He held her closer, stroking her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Babe, you snore"

"WHAT??? I do not snore!"

Oh the shame of it. Deep down she knew he was telling the truth. She hadn't slept with a man in years and the last one slept like the living dead and wouldn't have heard her even if she did snore. But somewhere deep in the recess of her memory she recalled many, many years ago staying awake for the entirety of a long-haul flight because she was sitting in business next to her client and was afraid to sleep in case she snored...

She wanted to die of shame. At least farting in bed was something one had control over, and she made absolutely sure that she never did that...well not in company anyway. Snoring was far worse cos it was out of your control and you're not even aware of it! Ok, she had to front it, so she braced herself and asked,

"What badly?"

"No babe, it's actually quite cute, just a little snorty and snuffly"

"Ahhh, that'll be because my nose felt a little blocked yesterday"

Well, fruitloop fans, that got me out of the horribly embarrassing situation for a few weeks. Until one night recently....

The hunky BF is snuggled next to me in bed. In the depth of a wonderful sleep I suddenly snorted so bloody loudly that I woke myself up with a start. Surely that huge, rasping masculine snore hadn't come from me, a sexy little feminine minx???....I looked across the bed praying to god that I hadn't woken him too. Uh-oh. There he was, head raised from the pillow looking first left and then right for all the world resembling a badly startled meerkat.

"What the f**k was that?"

I started to laugh. It was the only possible response.

We both laughed uncontrollably for the next ten minutes. Holding each other in the dark, the laughter subsiding then starting again when one of us re-lived the moment. Eventually as we began to drift back to sleep, the chocolate voice says...

"Hey, babe, can I tell you something?"

"Sure, you can"

"It's a good job I love you"

Vaginal Smoking...have I missed something??

I bloody well choked on my coffee yesterday as my dear friend asked in a conspiratorial whisper "Hey, have you ever come across vaginal smoking?"

I mean, WTF?

There we were, having a long-awaited catch-up after 3 days abstinence and she's asking me about smoking vaginas??? We were in a coffee shop, not a bloody sex shop. I quickly had a look around to see if anyone had heard her. Couldn't really tell. Several people were all looking at me snorting coffee at 3 in the afternoon though. Oh well.

My brain immediately leapt understandably to sex.

"Smoke from dry friction you mean? No, can't say that I've ever had that problem!"

"No, no, I came across the term yesterday on a website when I was booking my trip to Indonesia"

"Oh, that explains it. It must be some sort of trick, you know like those girls who fire ping-pong balls from their fanny's as entertainment for tourists!"

At this point I had a mental picture of a woman with a glowing pack of twenty between her legs making smoke rings with her vagina. I also had coffee all down the front of my shirt and tears down my cheeks. I was getting stared at.

"No, no, no that can't be it. Must be something else..... they only offer it at high-class establishments. I saw it mentioned on The Four Seasons website"

My mind then wandered to poor unfortunate women so addicted to smoking that they had deviated to using a second orifice and the practice, obviously being socially unacceptable required rehab in expensive establishments.

"Can't they use bloody nicotine patches or something? It's unbelievable, I can't believe that neither of us has ever heard of this before"

Both my friend and I consider ourselves to be intelligent, women of the world. Why wouldn't we have heard about this practice? How could we have missed it?

"Funnily enough, it came up under spa treatments. Someone called Martha swears by it"

SMOKING is bad for your health. We all know that. It's a nasty, smelly, socially unacceptable habit. And as a reformed smoker of ten years or so I hate the smell, it makes me want to gag.

"Don't tell me you're going to try it for godsake.....you've been trying to give up for months!"

At this point one of the kind staff approached our table and offered a damp cloth to wipe my shirt down. Actually I think that she just wanted to get a better handle on our conversation cos she loitered a little longer than required. We decided to take our leave and walk to the school yard to collect our offspring. I had a brainwave.

Google: Vaginal Smoking Indonesia BRILLIANT!!

As we reached the schoolyard the answer popped up on my iPhone. Apparently, the practice comes from Java and is considered a traditional treatment before marriage. It is supposed to cleanse and disinfect the vagina.

Unfortunately I then got a crystal clear image of someone in a beekeepers outfit with one of those smokers puffing it up your you-know-what like they smoke beehives. We were both laughing uncontrollably by now, supporting each other as we walked across the schoolyard like a couple of drunks. Heads turned, tongues tutted, but it was only the usual humourless suspects.

As other parents saw us approaching in our juvenile hysterics one smiled and said " Ok, whatever it is, I'm sure we'll read about it tomorrow"

I couldn't resist......"Yep, and if she comes back from her holiday next week smelling like a bloody ham, then I'm writing about that too!"