If you are a person who plays some sort of sport on some sort of field in New Zealand, this is where you wait if you’re not in play:
It’s not exactly a dugout – that may be an American thing – but it’s not where the spectators sit. So what else would it be for, especially just outside the club rooms?
At the very end of last year, I opened my email and was absolutely delighted to see a message from Molly (of Molly’s Daily Kiss) asking if she could interview me for her new podcast, the KissCast. Of course I said yes – how awesome was that?
So in early January we got together on Skype and talked enthusiastically about many things, the end result of which is this, the fourth episode of the KissCast. (I recommend the others as well – they’re great listening!) Molly was a wonderful host who asked great questions about all sorts of things. Between the laughter there may even have been some answers!
Do you know what scrummaging is? If you’re in a society that’s heavily invested in rugby culture then you likely do – and for the rest of you, well, it’s a part of a rugby game, and looks very grunty.
It also means that on a sports field there’s a fair chance of finding a scrum machine, which is used for practice. They’re also good for leaning on!
I rather like paddles. Some that I own are heavy thuddy bastards, and some are stingy light bastards. Some look and feel like they’ll deliver a thud (like that gorgeous wooden one above made by The Gunner’s Daughter) but sting incredibly instead. I’ve found that’s one of the downsides of paddles: no matter what I think they’re going to deliver when I get them, I never know for sure until someone’s whacked my bum with it.
Unlike the majority of New Zealanders, I’m not a big fan of sports. I’m particularly not a big fan of rugby – I went to some games with family when younger, but if pressed I must admit to preferring cricket a bit more (the other big Kiwi sport). And I prefer roller derby most of all, probably because I know some players!
But despite not being a rugby fan, there are sports grounds everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. Handily, where there’s a sports ground, there’s a scoreboard:
When making my list of things to take to Melbourne last month, m’Lady requested that I bring a short (as in short!) skirt. While I have some very short dresses, a short skirt is unfortunately missing from my wardrobe – I tend to go for long and flowy. But that’s what friends are for! I asked Kiana if she could lend me one, knowing that when we’d been op-shopping recently she’d purchased an incredibly sexy one.
The last time I posted some of my ‘derp’ photos the response was unexpectedly positive – so I promised I’d do it again. Finally, here are some more of my not-so-good pictures, complete with closed eyes, stupid expressions, and strange poses:
Starting with both a stupid expression and a strange pose, this photo was taken back during my aquarium trip, where I was photographed by Delilah’s husband. The shark is a recommended photo opportunity, but I obviously did not make the most of it!
Last Saturday night I got all dressed up, picked up Kiana, and off we went to a kink party at the Chilli Club. It was private invitation, a pre-event for the new CHoKE – but boy was it packed! It was fantastic to arrive there and see friends, acquaintances, and new people all mixing in together. Not to mention having a good perve at everyone
The party had a theme of corporal punishment, so it’s unsurprising that there were quite a few school girls, school boys, a headmaster and headmistress or two, and a whole lot of general fetish wear on show. It was quite an impressive turnout, with the least dressed-up still looking lovely indeed.
This article was originally written for express magazine online in June 2011. It was written for those without much rope experience. All photos (so far as I can recall) were taken by Kiana at various workshops and play parties.
It’s marvellously versatile, rope. Sure, you can use it for securing the load on your trailer, but it’s a hell of a lot more exciting winding it around limbs, across skin, and creating patterns that you know can stay impressed on flesh for hours later.
Once there was a young red heifer, wandering across the fields. She had lost her herd: there was no farm she called home, nor any farmer’s whistle she recognised as familiar.
The cow was unaware that the sensation she felt deep below her stomachs, day after day, was loneliness – she had been weaned long since, and so all she had to do each day was amble and munch upon pasture grass (and wildflowers, when she came across them) for the long slow turning of the earth.keep looking »