google-site-verification: google935433b691795853.html KRISTY BERRIDGE: 2016-10-09

Friday, 14 October 2016

Turkey Slapping.

Yes, this is a topic and one I wouldn’t usually discuss via social media, particularly when in inference to a sexually inappropriate action.

But since I’m all about being inappropriate on most occasions, I figured we’d take a little nose-dive into this topic for a brief moment in time. 

For those of you unaware—and feel free to google it if you want pictorial evidence—turkey slapping is the act of a man literally slapping a woman in the face with his … um … breadstick. 

Most women will admit that this has happened to them on more than one occasion and if it hasn’t, you’re either a nun, lying or living with a eunuch.

In most cases, this generally occurs because your partner thinks he’s a comedian and desires nothing more than slapping you in the face with his mediocre genitalia in the hopes you might open wide and swallow. Other times it’s because you’re shaving your legs in the shower, both of you turn at once and presto! Face full of pink! Other times you’re climbing ladders, surfacing in the swimming pool with your eyes closed, hungry or having a good laugh with your demented other half and compelled to slap him back.

The point is; it happens. 

A few weeks ago my bestie was visiting and was fortunate enough to experience this delightful activity for herself from none other than … The Cockney.
Yes, you heard right. My partner decided to bestow my best friend with this precious gift laden with inappropriate humour. And though I hear women everywhere gasping--to be fair--it was the most ridiculously funny thing I have seen in ages.

Picture this; a day trip on the jet ski takes us to a remote island with crystal clear waters and an abundance of marine life … including sea cucumbers. Do you see it now? The Cockney wrangled one of those bad boys from the ocean floor and proceeded to gently attack my bestie with its slimy skin. She squealed with laughter as he thrust it at her neck, cheek and even attempted to shove it in her mouth. I was beside myself, having no idea whether to laugh, cry or shield watchful children from this sordid act of marine depravity. 

Needless to say we all laughed until we cried. The children watching cried, but they’re someone else’s problem and it was a memory none of us would forget.

Happy Turkey Slapping.


Kristy J

Tuesday, 11 October 2016

To be health conscious these days is to be super trendy and it’s amazing how many people are on the bandwagon and just exactly how many people have an opinion regarding your choices.

Take me for example, I have recently turned Vegan. To those uncertain of this term, it means I no longer eat any animal products; i.e. meat and dairy. It’s simply gobsmacking how many people have enquired into my general well-being and if my funeral will be announced anytime in the near future. I mean really, just because I’m not ingesting a cow or scarfing a pound of butter a day does not mean I will die. Rest assured, I did not become a Vegan to save the animals, make daisy chains and spread messages of peace and love, I turned to this alternate form of eating because I’d become a bloated, gassy mess with bad skin.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no cover model now, but I’m definitely better off for making the decision to change my lifestyle and eating habits. Interestingly enough, it really does seem to bother some people I encounter. My mother initially worried because my bones would break and my hair would fall out. My dad worried we’d never eat at our favourite steak restaurant again and The Cockney thought the refrigerator would be incessantly stocked with Tofu and black beans. I understand these concerns because these are the people that love me and want to make sure we still dine out regularly, I don’t fall to pieces if I crash-dive down a set of stairs or that Sunday dinners at home still include a dead animal roasted and stuffed with trimmings.

Funnily enough it’s strangers and work colleagues that give me the most unwarranted feedback concerning my personal health journey. It seems that when you open your lunch box and salad looms behind the lid that you must be crash-dieting or if you ask a waiter to make simple amendments to an order, you’re forced to endure the eye rolls of impatience.

Since becoming Vegan I’ve often wondered if this sort of treatment is prevalent to many different minority groups. For instance; do the Jewish cop shit about their curly beards and crazy sideburns? I suspect there is always someone suppressing their desire to high-five someone in the face with a chair for constantly scrutinising their chosen way of life. The lesson to be learned is tolerance. I will learn to be tolerant of overly-opinionated dropkicks because there is no way in hell that said drongos are ever going to stop freedom of speech and vocally distributing their biased thoughts. I guess in some ways you do have respect the confidence supporting these views, even if sometimes you just want to eat your damn lettuce in peace!


Kristy J