dirty deeds

Um, hello there. My name is Sherri, a.k.a. the claw. My blog, covers a variety of topics including but not limited to: the rock and the roll, film, angst, preschoolers and preschooler angst, talking about redoing rooms in my house, Bravo and Lifetime reality shows, starting various projects I don't finish and my love of Prozac and wine. Well, that last part isn't really "discussed" per se, but if you've ever read a comment I've left on your blog after 11:15 or so at night and there is quite a bit of rambling and non sequiturs and typos involved, I'm just saying. Which is worse? Drunk dialing in college or drunk commenting if you are forty? I suppose there is no record of drunk dialing on the world wide web...but I digress.


Charlotte was been kind enough to guest blog over at my place (here and here) and I was only too happy to return the favor. I say was. Until I learned of the topics we were to choose from as guest bloggers. I thought and thought and felt that politics and religion, even though they are a laugh a minute don't really provide that little something something that the topic of sex does.


So here we go.



My oldest son turned four years-old yesterday. So I've had sex once or twice.

I was thinking about how different he and his younger brother are. They couldn't be more different really. Nor could the way they were conceived be more opposite. If you are a parent - do you know which "time" your child or children were, uh, made? Where you were, under what circumstances?

I do. And I started thinking about whether or not this in some way colors a child's personality. Not seriously, really, but it is very interesting to me the correlation between the deed and the dude. At least my dudes and their respective deeds. Speaking of deeds, allow me to digress for a moment.


O.k., sorry bout that, Angus Young, I lurve you. Back on track.


Take my oldest son, for instance. We had been trying for over a year after two miscarriages in a row to have a child. I had become a bit, um, mildly obsessive about it. I would read books all the time about ovulation and things on the web about possible causes of miscarriages (waste of time - no one can tell you shit usually about why women miscarry - if you ever need to talk about this topic w/someone who's gone through it though, please feel free to e-mail me at my place). I could hardly think of anything else at this time but how to solve this situation.

The day M. was conceived, I woke up and did my pee on a stick test and yes I was ovulating, no time to waste. We happened to be at our friends' house in Raleigh, where we had spent the night and were in a guest room. I ran back in to tell my husband we needed to get busy on the air mattress and so we did. I won't go into the details obviously, but let's just say it wasn't very romantic, sex for us had become a single-minded duty at this point. It was a bit mechanical and filled with trepidation of the outcome.

But the outcome this time, would be a wonderful, amazing son. Who can be a bit serious for a four year-old. And can be very methodical, a tad OCD at times. Who is data-oriented. Who has a serious attention to detail and focus, who loves a challenge. Who is sensitive and emotional. Who is a lot like the way he was created. Here is working on a Transformer.


And then, a year-and-a-half later we had our other son, W., who wasn't unplanned but rather a big, awesome surprise. And who is reckless, silly, unafraid, highly affectionate, optimistic, unpredictable and basically always in search of a good time. His conception was - a little different than his brother's was, and his personality shall we say is a bit reflective of that as well.


So this theory of mine is total B.S. but I'm curious - do you remember when your kiddo was conceived and does anything about the circumstances remind you of that child's personality?





Thanks to Charlotte, for letting me grace her sphere of the blogosphere that is N.E.O. Moms and please know that you are welcome over at my place anytime. Hope to see ya there.

And here's another one of my dudes. Why? Cause I can.

Jesus is coming!

Hi everyone! Mickie here, also known around these parts as The Official Buttwiper. My job for the past five years has basically been to wipe butts in my household. I'm very good at it too. I can use one wipe (or now, a few sheets of toilet paper so as not to clog the toilet, although I prefer wipes because they don't crumble and break up into little dirty poop covered balls of lint in the butt cracks of my loved ones) to gently swipe the poop away as my children bend over, heads between their legs, cheeks spread, ready for the wiping. (Occasionally my husband will assume the position as I walk by, hoping to be treated to one of my quick, clean, gentle butt wipes, but I always walk right past him and let him do it himself.)

Anyway, I have to tell you that ever since Charlotte asked me to do a guest blog for her, I have been racking my brain trying to think of what to write. Politics? Um, no. Not going there. Why, you ask? Well, here is why. I am a silent Republican living somewhat peacefully smack in the middle of the San Francisco Bay Area. Hello?! Is there a more liberal area in the country? Probably not. I like to think I have balls, but if I were to speak up every time one of my friends around here went off on an anti-George Bush rant, or an anti-Republican tirade, I'd no doubt feel like the retarded kid on the playground being bullied and attacked by fifteen first graders. So in the interest of retaining some dignity, I just keep my mouth shut tight. Which, for me, is extremely hard because I am a very opinionated person, and I love to share my views with the world at large. I suppose it could be considered taking the pussy way out, but you know what? I just don't care. It makes things easier - and I'm okay with that.

On to the next option for a topic. Religion. I could write a book on that one! In fact, I actually might write a book on that one. I've got more juicy stories on how religion can fuck someone up (yes, a Republican can say fuck) than the Vienna Boys Choir. You see, I spent several of my formative years living smack in the middle of the Bible Belt in Little Rock, Arkansas. My parents, trying to do the right thing, sent us to a private, Baptist school because the public school system in Little Rock was, at that time, horrible. My sister and I went to a small school called Heritage Baptist. It was housed within Heritage Baptist Temple. Those people were some of the freakiest, scariest people I've ever come across in my life. They loved to teach about hell and the devil - I think they talked about Satan and hell more than they talked about God and Jesus. Within two months of being in that school, at the age of eight, I became "saved." I knew that when Jesus came back to earth to magically suck all of us up to heaven, I'd be among those sucked up with him. And I wouldn't burn in hell for all eternity. Phew, I'd dodged a bullet there! Because according to them, it was going to happen any day. I breathed a sigh of relief that I'd found these people in time! Just think if I hadn't! An eternity burning in hell - an eternity!! Do you know how long that is? No? Neither did I at the age of eight. But I knew that it was a long time, and it would be more miserable than anything I could imagine. My relief was short lived though when I realized that my parents, although good people, would not be sucked up along with me. Why? Because they were sinners. They drank wine. And they smoked cigarettes. (Remember, this was back in 1980 when everyone smoked.) I was consumed with worry. Every single day I tried to figure out how I was going to manage to bring my parents with me to heaven. But rather than tell them what was going on in my head, I suffered and plotted silently. I'd lie in bed at night, crying, worrying that Jesus was going to appear in the sky while we were sleeping, and that I'd be sucked into heaven with him, and my parents would wake up in the morning all confused about where I was, and they'd have to endure the misery of what was going to happen to all the sinners left on earth. At school we saw movies about this very topic: Mass confusion back on earth, all the sinners wondering where everyone else had gone. A person mowing the lawn suddenly disappears, leaving a lawn mower just idling where they'd been standing just moments before. Cars being abandoned as they were being driven down the freeway, causing crashes and terror among those left behind. So I began to sleep on the floor next to their bed at night, citing a scary movie as my fear, when in reality I was hoping that if Jesus returned while we were sleeping, that maybe I'd be able to grab their hands as I began to float to heaven - take them with me. And that story is just the beginning of my experience with religion. (With that upbringing, it's no wonder I turned into a Republican, huh?) I tend to be extremely long-winded, so I'll just end this topic right here, but you can check out more of my stories at The Official Buttwiper if you're interested.

Thanks, Charlotte, for the chance to share my silly stories with your readers. It was an honor that you asked me, and I hope you had (or are having) a fabulous time in San Diego! See ya at the gym......

Oh, for love of sex. . . .

Thank you so much Charlotte for the chance to participate - I've never done this, so in light of the subject, I feel like a virgin! ( :

When given the choice to write about religion, sex, and/or politics it was a no brainer for me – sex always wins! But in our overly sexualized society - what aspect hasn't been discussed ad nauseam?

How about sex and the mentally retarded?

Oh no, did I actually say that – the R word? Partially for clarity, partially for reaction, and partially because I know this group can deal – but I promise that now that I’ve said it, from this point forward I’ll exchange “retarded” for “developmentally disabled”.

I’m a lucky woman. I have many friends who carry the label of developmentally disabled. I’m not going to speak for my friends in this blog, just about them – this is all me!

As I mentioned earlier, almost everything in this country is sexualized – breast feeding babies, pre-teen panties stamped with “party girl”, you know what I mean. . . . what appears to be the one exception is our stereotype of people with developmental disabilities. You know the game – those people are sweet, without a care in the world, always a smile on their face, blah blah blah. Such a strange phenomenon, and really such bullshit! In every way, people with developmental disabilities are like me and you. They can be nice, they can be assholes, they can be funny, they can be mean – and like their "typical" friends, they have all the same needs, wants, and fantasies when it comes to sex!

I remember the first time it really hit me – I’m in highschool and playing with some teenagers who were diagnosed with autism. There was this one kid who loved to play with a big red ball – and had some funny tactile stuff – so we would take the ball and bounce it on his chest and every time it hit we’d say “boom, boom, boom” and make him laugh. This was his favorite game for a good long time until the day he took the ball and clearly placed it over his genitals and said “I want boom boom”. I look back and think “yes honey, we all do!”

Fortunately for me, it’s fairly easy. I have a great husband who likes sex as much as I do, and in between, I have a few favorite toys that always do the trick. I get lots of physical touch, caressing and love – I consider it as important as air, food, and water. This is one of the main things that separate me from my friends with disabilities. And for the people I know, it’s not their lack of wanting.

So what is it? Sometimes it’s their parents who can’t move beyond the fact that their children are now adults with adult feelings and needs. Many parents will have a judge give them complete authority to control all the decisions in the life of their son or daughter with a disability. How many of us would get laid if our Mom was still making all our decisions?

Sometimes it’s the “professionals”. I sit in countless meetings where the person with a disability is supposed to be involved but the rest of the group is out talking the one person who’s opinion matters most in the discussion. Often times, we’re focused on everything but sex. Is he being compliant to the many staff in his life? Is he taking a shower every day? Is he serious at church and quiet at work? Poor little Johnny with Down syndrome is having these behavioral episodes every night – he insists on shutting his door and the staff can’t allow it because he may need help in the night, they have to be able to hear! Well yeah, poor little Johnny is trying to get off and no one is even considering it. If you have a disability and masturbate with your door open or in public settings, you’re going to have bigger stronger staff around you and your not going to get the privacy you need.

I have actually sat in meetings where the person has found a lover and the team of staff and family are spending all their time working on a solution to keep them apart. The team worries that they might not understand what they’re doing, they might not be safe doing it, and then there’s the pregnancy issue. It’s never black and white – but last time I checked people with disabilities are still people and have the same right to fuck, fuck up, have unsafe sex, and get pregnant like the rest of us. What is happening here?

I spoke with a long time friend last week who was talking about his loneliness. Struck by a car as a kid, he lives with a brain injury that affects almost every aspect of his life. He told me that he’s so lonely; he doesn’t always want to live. He’s over 40, but has never had a real girlfriend, the touch of a person who wanted to be intimate, or sex – never. Ugh, I’d want to die too.

Some people find ways to get around this – sexual surrogates had a bit of popularity in the 80s (that’s over with now) and the brave and able will make their way for a massage with a happy ending – at least every once in awhile. But mostly there’s nothing happening – nothing that any of us would want to be a part of. Here’s some statistics I want to share:

• Among adults who are developmentally disabled, as many as 83% of females and 32% of males are victims of sexual assault.

• 49% of people with developmental disabilities, who are victims of sexual
violence, will experience 10 or more abusive incidents.

• 33% of abusers are friends or acquaintances, 33% are natural or foster family members, and 25% are caregivers or service providers.

Don’t these numbers sound like we’re in Africa or something? I guess I have to take back my statement that they’re not having sex, they are, but unfortunately, it’s still not the kind any of us would choose. California had a law on the books until sometime in the 1970s for mandatory sterilization of people with disabilities. This was not because they wanted to prevent pregnancy from consensual sex – there was still no acknowledgement that they were even interested. It was to prevent pregnancy after abuse. Disgusting.

So here’s what I’m saying – at some point in all of our lives we will have the opportunity to become friends, neighbors, or coworkers with a person who has a developmental disability. That person is as likely as the next to want to talk about the hot delivery guy, the fantastic privacy of porn on the web, and what is the best sex toy! Let’s celebrate how healthy sex is for everyone – not just the folks we consider “normal”.

~julie

Bloody Nora, What Have I Let Myself In For?

When asked to guest post on Charlotte's wonderful blog, I was delighted; then she told me that the subject choices were sex, politics or/and religion. Oh dear, I thought, all those taboos our mother told us never to discuss in polite company. Then a smile slowly spread across my wee, rose-cheeked face and I rubbed my hands with glee.....sex, politics and/or religion....?

Excellent. Said in a Dr. No kind of way as opposed to Bill and Ted.

I considered politics; the recent spate of anti-Scottish websites and anti-Scottish feeling; you should see some of my emails that have sprung up because of a decision made by our Justice Minister was an option. People haven't read the actual facts and how Westminster were repeatedly contacted by the Scottish First Minister and the Justice Minister read his speech, it's pretty impressive to exclude the Lockerbie bomber from even being allowed possible consideration for transfer and that, despite reassurances, Westminster signed an agreement with Libya which did not exclude Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi. Scotland was outraged and spoke with Westminster who shrugged their shoulders, leaving Scotland no choice but to deal with this issue within the confines of Scottish law.

But then I decided against that as too emotive, not much chance for humour and religion or sex was much better suited to a guest position.

So talking of positions....apparently, a new Kama Sutra kama, kama, kama kama, kama chameleon, you come and blow, you come and blow oh oh oh has been discovered or a part of the Kama Shastra which contains amongst other works, the Kama Sutra. There are 64 types of sexual acts within 10 chapters but new revelation reveals there to be a further 5. That's right. Five positions you have NEVER even contemplated. Non Possible! I hear you proclaim in French somehow as it sounds better.

I know you're thinking right now what those 5 positions might be. I of course, get dressed in the morning with bluebirds tying my apron strings and mice fixing bows to my hair so I'd never think of such things.

Is it significant that this takes the number to 69? Are those extra 5 positions necessary to all sexual partnerships and have we been doing it wrong all those years? How awful. I was curious and searched the web, after seeing the original article in an obscure copy of a local paper but alas severe disappointment later, I can find no information/pictures or comments.

You'd have thought that at least some people would have gotten their hands on such relevant information and tried it out, simply for our amusement knowledge and potentially increased sexual health benefits. That's what the freaks sexperts are all about after all, isn't it? So keep your eyes peeled and if you hear of anyone extolling the virtues not really a word I should be using here, is it? of the 69, reconsider your opinion on what they may be talking about and ask them immediately to send a message to me, including feedback, pictures and real time footage. For research purposes only.

Ah, religion. I personally subscribe to His Noodleness, the Great Spaghetti Monster and would like him to be recognised as the all knowing, all powerful. But that's just me. I take my religion like I take my life; with a little humour. This doesn't go down well with everyone though; I've known intelligent, good, kind people turn into gnarling, scary beasts at the mention of this subject. "Sooooo, you're a HUMANIST?" a friend somewhat strangely spat at me, with barely disguised disgust at my questioning of certain....beliefs. Beliefs which he monologued. Beliefs which he knew I didn't share but proceeded to shove down my throat. Beliefs which he believes to mean my children and I will burn in hell. It's kinda hard not to retaliate to that.

It's like this; I'm confused when it comes to religion. My husband is a scientist and smiles when he reads Dawkins. My gran was a religious zealot, bordering on insanity. My father joined a strange lodge type religious culture didn't last long, they were against alcohol and my mother sent us to Sunday School. She rolled her eyes when we suggested she come with us. I understand the concept of belief but can't help but guffaw when the children mention Adam and Eve. It's an instinctual response. Lucy believes despite this, Kelly doesn't but then, she is easily influenced and Fraser is on the fence when I say fence, I mean playing the x-box 360, hoping we'll shut up anytime soon.

When it comes down to it, I respect everyones right to have faith, I believe that there may be a God but not in the traditional sense and whereas I like a good discussion, this is definitely one that should be kept behind closed doors, unless you are prepared for the raining of random nutters ready to harass you at a moment's notice.

A doctor friend of ours was harassed by some stranger who had read his views which he'd stupidly voiced a bit like me, eh? I'm Scottish, I can take it, we'll set aboot ye! on a website, sought him out and metaphorically tried to douse him with fire; he called his place of work making false accusations, he sent him hate mail, a thousand spam mail daily and hacked his computer. He got hold of sensitive information, he blackened his name and yet this person considered himself to be a good, religious man. He continues to feel he is doing the work of God. Yeah...ooookay.

I am not anti-faith or anti-belief but I may be anti-religion, if it spawns this type of zealot but of course, every walk of life, every area has it's group of crazies so why would this be any different? Therefore, anti-religious does not cover it either: I am anti-nutter and proud of it.

Helen x