Hello smile

I'm Siobhan Curran/Kisa Naumova, and this is my weblog. I tend to write about stuff like crossdressing, Macs, code, cats, wine and Second Life, but in general it's just an ongoing conversation about all sorts of stuff. If you'd like to know a little bit more about what this all is, I recommend starting on this page which has a little bit of info on who I am, and what I'm trying to do — or you could dive into my five years worth of archives if you like.

Otherwise, feel free to close this box and explore...

Things I Know I Shouldn't Do, But Do Anyway

Number 4281: Squeezing Blackheads.

Oh c'mon, we all do don't we? Because it's fun :smile:

I remember the first ever time I got a blackhead (because I am that sad) — it was in 1986 (guess) and it was a corker on my nose. I had no idea exactly what it was, and no amount of picking at it, or scratching at it, could shift it.

I was perplexed :unsure:

One day, someone pointed it out to me.

You've got a massive blackhead on your nose."

(Gee, thanks :tongue: )

"Yeah, I know", I said, picking at it again.

"Don't pick it, squeeze it" he said.

Obviously, I didn't do it there and then. That would have been gross. But later on, in the privacy of the bathroom, I put two fingernails either side of it, and squeezed...

Honestly, I couldn't believe what happened. WTF was this long little yellowy thing with a black blob on the end of it?!

And thus began a teenage obsession with all things dermatalogical :wink:

...

Even though I'm in my mid-thirties now, I still get the odd one or two. Usually somewhere on my back.

The ones on my back are (in the main) OK, because no-one ever sees them, and they don't hurt to squeeze. That said, the ones in the small of my back do hurt.

So I don't like those.

I occasionally get them on my face though, and I've got a nasty little reminder of one — just to the right (my right) of my nose — of the reason why you shouldn't squeeze them.

Bloody thing got infected and turned into a monster :unsure:

GUM Clinics. A Cautionary Tale

While I'm on the subject of spots, I'd like to share with you a little story that happened a few years back — and one that I hope will serve as a lesson for all men worried about the health of their, er, plumbing...

Of all the places I've had spots — on my back, my face, behind my ears, in my ears (true story) — there's one particular place that I really never want to see a zit again.

(Use your imagination. Please)

Part of the old job I used to do involved putting together lots of information for students — stuff like housing, academic gumpf, and, in particular, sexual health. We used to publish reams and reams of advice on what to do if you have crabs, how not to put on a condom, what a 'dental dam' was — but mostly we used to publish great big lists of Sexually Transmitted Diseases and their symptoms.

Under "Syphilis", it read "symptoms start with a spot on the penis" (or words to that effect), and so (having practically memorised all of these things) noticing something odd while I was having a quick fumble with Madam Palm And Her Five Daughters one day, I suddenly jumped to the obvious conclusion:

"OMG, I've got the Clap" :unsure:

Fortunately, it was a Monday. Because Monday is the day the ~~Clap Clinic~~ Genito Urinary Medicine Clinic was open.

So I had a wee, and trotted across the road to get myself checked out. (I lived across the road from the GUM Clinic. Handy eh?)

Sat in a room with two guys, trousers round my ankles, they started asking me questions.

"Have you been to the toilet in the last three hours?"

"Yes, yes I have. Just there now in fact", I said, beaming with pride.

"Ah. OK. Um, we normally get you to give us a sample. But you'll have flushed out any useful stuff by doing that. We'll have to do a different test."

A different test eh? Intriguing...

"Here, lie back and ... Wait! What's that?" he said, pointing out of the window.

I turned to look.

"I can't see anythiOH MY GOD! AAAAAAAAAARHHHHHHH! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU DOING? OOOOOOOWWWWWWWW! IT STINGS! IT STINGS! AAAAAAAAAARHHHHHHH! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!"

I have never, in my life, before or after that moment, felt pain like the pain you get when someone shoves a plastic rod down your willy.

Wait, that's a lie...

"There we go. All done. Just need to clean you up a bit." he said with a sadistic grin.

"That really hurt", I said, holding my damaged goods gingerly in my hands.

"Well, you'll know next time not to urinate before you visit us", he said, picking up a cotton bud from out of a box.

"You're not going to do that again are you?"

"Oh no. Of course not ... Wait! What's that?" he said, pointing out of the window.

I turned to look.

"There's still nothing thAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

...

Two weeks later, I was back at the clinic — this time to get my results. The nurse called me over to the reception window, and pulled out a folder.

"Right, let's see. Gonorrhoea, nope. Herpes, nope. Syphilis, nope. HIV, nope."

I was surprised, to be perfectly honest, that she announced these results to the entire waiting room.

I've always wondered what she would have done if one of them had been a "yep" :unsure:

Aww Doctors at University Practises — they all seem to be perverts at mine, it didn't matter what you went in with. Arm dropping off if you were a bloke you would have to drop your trousers and have your plums felt — then told you had a broken arm.

Jane

At my old grammar school Jane, even if you walked into the nurse's office holding your kidneys in a bucket, she'd still give you two aspirin and send you back to Geography...

Dress different

(via flickr.com/people/si08han)

Dress different

If anyone wants the full version of this, um, email me or something

ADF Demands NC Governor's School Drop Course on 'Gay' Teenagers

"they encourage students to question their religious faith"

Because questioning things, kids, is baaaaaaaad

(I've got to find me a better way of posting links than this. I don't want to go down the "Links for 2006-03-05" route, because IMHO it sucks a little. Elegance and fluidity — that's what's needed)

Pizzas, Popes, and Porn Screenames

I've been reading a lot of things online today. Lots and lots and lots of things. I've expanded my paultry set of RSS feeds to include a few more (because, sometimes, the people I subscribe to bore me to tears by not writing things every day :tongue: ), and I've been following every single link I can find.

In fact, I think I read the whole Internet. I came across that "you've reached the end of the Internet" page, cliked on the "go back to the start" link, and got some guy called "Tim" talking about particle accelleration in Switzerland.

But, along my travels, I came across this article on The Guardian about Domino's boss trying to set up a Catholic utopia

(Guilt on tap, to each and every home!)

Regardless of what you might feel about such things, the thing that really interested me was the enflamed comments. The page hit Godwin's Law about half-way down, yet still kept going.

I'll try and summarise:

Post about weird desire to build a Catholic utopia without pr0n, contraception, or general fun ... several comments about how this is a Bad Thing™ ... a small flame-war where someone likens fundamentalism in the US to fundamentalism in the Middle East ... flame-war diffused by "You can't spell 'fundamental' without 'fun'!" thread-rot ... flame-war reignited by "I think this is good and want to go there" comment

It's after that comment, that it descends into viscious lashings between opposed factions — centred around some guy called "Frank".

But the thing that really struck me (and this might just sum up my "Meh" state of mind, to be honest), is that no-one took the opportunity to ridicule the "I want to live in a pr0n-free world" guy's choice of screen-name.