They’re just another set of human beings… you are not contractually or legally obliged to be nice to them, but in all actuality you’d better be…

I can write about this with some authority cos although I don’t have any at this time, I bloody well have had in the past.
They’re the parents of your live-in lover; what may be viewed in the eyes of 'god' as your sinlaws.
So, you‘re living in sin...
You would hope that this delicious buffet of sin lets you off the hook as far as familial duties with your other half’s family go, just leaving all the fun and sexy stuff with none of the responsibility! Waaaay! You get to avoid all the rubbish stuff like having to do paperwork if you break up (breaks-ups suck bad enough as it is without having to fill out documents).
But somehow, being as we are human beings, and therefore generally disposed towards harmony (at least most of us fairly sane, or 'can pass as sane' ones) you find yourself in situations with these people, dealing with the strain of hyper-politeness, trying not to swear, generally being on best behaviour, stifling all the best and most exciting parts of who you are and acting like you are some sort of a wholesome, mature individual who was certainly not completely off your face and naked with their son the previous night.

Part of the problem is that you subconsciously know that without that marriage contract, you're on shaky ground anyway...
Also, there's always going to be the thought that you just can't chase away that all they are thinking when the look at you is "you do nasty, dirty things with my boy"...

I remember biting my tongue when now ex-sinlaws came over for live-in lover's birthday. I slaved frantically and fearfully away cooking a roast and making a massive and impressive cake covered in icing, candles, the whole bit... Upon arrival, mother-sinlaw announced she had brought a (not previously arranged) pudding. I thanked her and said that in actual fact I had made a cake but I'm sure we could have a little of both. To which she replied in her trademark blunt way "You can have the cake tomorrow night." I sat through dinner (while every bite was scrutinised by said mother-sinlaw, all the while damning it with faint praise) then after they had left and we could barely move for gluttony, I stubbornly got the cake out and insisted on lighting the candles and singing the damn song.

All in all though, I've had a fairly easy ride with the sin-laws... If you're lucky they live in a different city. If you're even luckier, a different country. You also want to hope for sin-laws that have extremely full and busy lives themselves so there is no time or desire for meddling, with the added bonus that conversation topics are more plentiful.

That particular mother-sinlaw (of the unrequested pudding) is soon to be another girl's actual 'in-law'...
I can't help thinking I dodged a bullet there...

This one is marvellous - I've been meaning to write about it for ages, but haven't gotten around to it for so long, I'm ashamed to say that I have now forgotten where I first read this. Probably in a dreadful woman's magazine. Or possibly even in the Sunday papers.

Today's delightful term refers to the product of the following set of circumstances: Let's imagine you are a woman. You are starting to reach an age where, after focusing on your career for 10 or 15 years to the detriment of your personal life, you have gradually comes to the realisation that it is getting fairly late in the day as far as your ability to bear fruit goes. Something must be done, or how will you possibly feel that you have lived a complete life when you are an old woman reflecting on your achievements?

Some women, searching for a solution to this problem, and without a suitable candidate (or 'mandidate', I should say) for creating offspring, decide to go it alone.

Now you and I both know that there is only so much a woman can do on her own. Even in this day and age, we still need something from a man - this is where your mandatory gay best friend comes in (all women have one of course)... You ask your gay best friend to donate sperm so that you can make yourself a delightful baby.
It's perfect, of course: your gay friend is intelligent, good looking, stylish, fun, driven, and best of all has no wife of his own to create complications and awkwardness in such a delicate situation.

How you go about the technicalities of this is of course up to you and your friend - whether you are adventurous enough to try it the traditional way (someone revealed to me recently "it doesn't matter who's touching it - if there is friction, it will get hard" - not sure that's true for everyone), or whether you prefer the more clinical, and certainly more costly, turkey baster method, the result - all going to plan - is the same:
A beautiful bouncing 'gayby' boy or girl. Your very own bundle of joy.

Oh dear, it's been too long. Sorry to my one fan who has sent me irate messages. Sometimes a girls' just gotta do what... you know the rest.

So, in remembrance of my super cool Dad (no, I never would have called him that while he was alive - even tho I secretly thought so), I am writing with an aviation theme. This was s'posed to be the theme of the day on Dad's birthday which came and went last month but alas, I lapsed.

Anyway... I have two words today. Yep. two whole words. Well actually kind of four words if you count the conjoinulations as... oh never mind. No wait! I've got three! Oh! I mean six!

Aerobatics - Aeroplane Aerobatics - RIP Popsicle
Avionics - Aviation Electronics - It's the fancy shit, the worky bits they use to make airplanes fly so the pilots can put their feet up and drink some camomile tea.
Avgas - This IS one, I promise. Ok, maybe it's a brand name, can't be sure. All I can be sure of is that when I get the scent of burning Avgas I know that I'm about to go on a trip. Or I'm meeting someone after they've come from a trip. Or I just drove past the airport.