My friend Saint Lush recently complained to me how, whenever her husband was away from his wife and kids, it was labelled “batchin’ it” but when a woman was in the same happy situation, there was no equivalent term.
Admittedly “spinsterin’ it” certainly doesn’t have the same ring, especially if you end up pronouncing it “spin-string”, which sounds like some kind of Stunt Yo-Yo. And if your life has been ruined by yo-yo management like mine where Every. Five. Minutes is punctuated by “Mum! Can you wind up my yo-yo!” and “Mum! McGee just hit me on the head with his yo-yo!” and “Mum! I just garotted the neighbour’s dog. With my yo-yo.“, you will know that such an association is Not A Good Thing. Especially when you’re trying to enjoy some moi-time away from your family.
Still, the other day I found myself “batchin’ it” up in Brisbane for my friend J9’s birthday. But me being me, I found myself batchin’ it in true style eating take-away pizza with six other adults and eight children under 10. Oh, yeah…. this bitch was batched.
And me being me, I decided to lead the adults in a lively conversation about “anal beauty care” in the hope of lowering the tone to true batchin’ levels. I’m thinking Animal House, I’m thinking Porky’s 3: The Revenge, I’m thinking that other notorious 80s frat-party movie Terms Of Endearment…
Now, I shouldn’t take full credit for the conversation. Another friend, Lady Jane, had started the ball rolling that afternoon when we were all in town and she’d spotted a sign advertising “Male Brazilian” services. Most of us were all “What the…?”. At which point, the seemingly mild-mannered Mister G stepped forward to reveal himself as Quite The Expert on a whole range of nether-regional subjects such as the “Back, Crack and Sack” wax, anal bleaching and even anal botox. I hasten to add that, in his line of work, he must acquaint himself with a whole range of different subjects without necessarily trying them himself.
So, really, when I brought the subject up again at the dinner table, I was merely building on the work the group had done earlier that day. And actually, if there was any criminal charges to be laid upon any single person seated at that table, I think you would find that my hands were very clean. Bleached even.
In any case, people may be relieved to know that the dinner conversation didn’t linger too long on “anal beauty care” but, thanks to the careful navigation of Mister G, it swiftly moved onto genital piercing and foot enhancements for people too lazy to get rid of their paunches but who wish to be able to see their feet again (or even clown feet fetishists?).
All things considered, I guess that I really did “batch it” with the best of them.
Next stop? SPRING BREAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
[For the record: I’ve spelt “batching” with a “t” even though bachelor doesn’t have a “t” in it. It’s just that when I tried spelling it as “baching” i couldn’t help but think about Johann Sebastian Bach because, truly, that’s how high brow I am. I think this post has ably proven this.]
[Also for the record: Mister G is now denying that any such conversations ever took place in his presence. And yet, he is apparently “happy for me” – but whether that means he is happy for me to blog about this or happy for me now that he has scarred my mind forever, I do not know.]
[Finally, for that same record: The NDM does not in any way condone the practice of injecting botox into the anal region and wishes to advise that overdoing it can end up either in the Baboon Bum Effect or a complete loss of muscle control. You have been warned.]