I've Cracked It.

My bum-crack is higher than most. I've investigated the biology behind this and most medical practitioners have responded with something close to eye rolling and evasion. But it seems to me a phenomenon shared by women (and sadly a few lady-arsed men as well) the world over.

Where most women might show a little bit of crackage if crouched over a small child or dropped coin, I need only lean across a table and my arse is practically leaping out of my jeans wanting to introduce itself.

And before you start, no. My jeans are no lower than anyone else's. I'm as fond of a hipster as the next kid but given the height of my crack, I'm always conscious of this when purchasing pants.

So I've developed my own theory. It's twofold.

1. I have more junk in my trunk therefore making it harder to close the boot. My arse cheeks are fuller than most and go some way to creating crack merely by deepening the canyon. It is logical no? My only worry about this is if I keep adding arse, will my crack end up around the base of my neck? That might rule out low-backed tops as well and I've always been fond of those.

2. If humans evolved from apes, and nobody has been specific about which type of primate in particular, then perhaps some of us have descended from particular types of monkey. If this is the case, I'm not chimpanzee, gibbon or gorilla. Methinks I have the arse of a baboon type creature. Pronounced. High-riding.

I recently took a facebook poll for suggestions of blog topics. A dear friend mentioned I should write about the high-riding g string and why they should be banned. Well I'm the first to jump on the banning of the g string bandwagon. I've always believed them to be the ugliest of underpant and flattering to none. (Subclause 1A: when wearing formal wear of the hugging variety the g banger is advisable).

But I must jump to defend those whose g strings occasionally rise into visibility. It's not planned. It's just that our bum-cracks are very high. The g has a lot to traverse in this situation. It will fall where it lands and if the only flat place is just below the rib cage then physics is the winner on the day.

Look, I know it's not pretty. But I'd like to quote from one of my old favourite films:

"I like a woman with a bottom you can park your bike in."

I AM success.

Lately I haven't been in love, had a baby, been promoted or won any sort of prize. Other than these things, good stuff happens to me all the time. I aim to celebrate the small stuff.

So in no particular order I am proud to report the following:

I found two lovely leather handbags at Vinnies for $6 each. The old lady complained that I had messed up her display. Have almost got rid of the mothball smell.

There have been almost 800 hits on my blog since I started. Only about 300 of these have been me checking to see if I've had any new hits.

I borrowed several books from a public library and none of the pages had dried boogers on them.

My pet bird seems to hate my flatmate slightly more than me.

One of my students wrote a cinquain poem about me. The second line of the poem calls for the poet to use two adjectives to describe the subject. Loud and crazy were selected.

My upstairs neighbours are fighting less. They are having giggly, repetitive sex more often.

The cold sore forming on the end of my nose doesn't look like a booger according to a close friend. Apparently it would be better to have a booger permanently hanging from the end of one's nose rather than a cold sore.

Okay okay, I'll stop bragging. Nothing worse than someone who is constantly reminding you of how amazing they are.

Shocked, appalled and yes, flattered.

I'm not the kind of girl that has men's tongues dragging on the footpath. Apart from my height there's nothing remarkable about my overall appearance. I'm not a dog. But I'm no model either. I can look pretty good when I put a bit of effort in and thanks to my hair stylist I've got nice hair. So it's not every day that I get random compliments from strangers on my looks.

I did today.

Crossing the road this morning I almost walked out in front of a car waiting at the lights. The car started to move a little and then stopped. I jumped back on to the footpath, only to notice that the lights had just turned orange. The driver had had plenty of opportunity to go when they were green but was apparently waiting for me to cross. I smiled and nodded in thanks as I finally passed the bonnet of the car on foot. To my surprise came the confident and calm reply, "Nice tits".

I was shocked. I actually did a corny double take to check that the comment had been meant for me. Thanks to the guy's wry smile and an apparent lack of any other tits in the vicinity of the incident I was able to confirm that he had in fact been talking about my breasts.

I know I'm supposed to be offended by this blatant comment. Most modern women would probably roll their eyes in disgust at such an act. Some might even turn around and give a little lip service of their own.

But alas. I'll be honest. I loved it. The moment put a smug and ridiculous smile on my face. I walked along the shop front windows just catching glimpses of my boobs.

So I'm giving a little shout of thanks out to the universe. And a note of encouragement to a more tentative male. If you're thinking about sneaking in a cheeky and bold, perhaps slightly sexist and inappropriate comment, go ahead. She might roll her eyes at you but she'll be secretly checking out her tits in mirrors all day long.

"Brang" is not a word

Yeah. You heard me. "Brang" is not a word. I will fight this battle for many years to come and I don't care how stuffy and boring I become in the process. It's not that hard. I brought my book to school. I bought a new pair of earrings. Look, I can see the thinking (or lack of thinking) behind it..."I sing therefore I sang", "I ring therefore I rang", "I bring therefore I brought" just doesn't have the consistency one looks for in a language. But life wasn't meant to be easy and some things should be corrected.

While I'm on it I'm going to set a few youngsters straight on some other absolute pet hates in the language department:

Listen up kids....you can't "verse" anyone at sport. I can't tell you who you're "versing" this weekend at soccer because...."VERSING" IS NOT A WORD!!!!!!! I love it when you argue the point. "Verse is in the dictionary!". Yes it is you little moron - and it relates directly to the structure of correct English language.

Further to my rant, you never usen't to do anything, especially not in relation to articulation. What? You don't say this one? "I usen't to like chocolate but now I do."

A wise older teacher once reluctantly explained to me that these common errors eventually become an accepted part of speech. Well this is a battle I'm willing to fight. I'll verse anyone. I usen't to be so combative about it but now that I brang it up I mean business.