Guilty pleasures

We all have them, those bizarre behaviours or freak like fetishes that we fight to hide from prying eyes. My oddball activity got markedly more obscure whilst I was living solo free from stricture and judgement. Listed below are a few of my more crazy quirks:

Solo bang-bang. This is as disgusting as it sounds. For those of you unfamiliar with a bang-bang, it’s a term made famous by comedian Louis CK, which describes the act of ingesting two full meals from different restaurants consecutively, one after the other. Basically, eating till you hate yourself. There is an art to picking the right combination; Mexican – Italian, Sushi – Pizza, or Indian – Diner for example. I’m not proud but when I lived alone, I would solo bang-bang on occasion. Usually when I was really hungover. I’d go out and get takeaway Thai, walk home ingest the whole thing, then order a kebab from Ericyes and pretend like my conservative ordering was due to my ladylike manners and tiny girl stomach. If I wasn’t up for a bang-bang I’d simply order a shit-ton of food, like enough sushi to feed four, then ask for multiple chopsticks and soy sachets so it would appear like I was catering for my house mates, not dining alone in single white girl devastation. As you can imagine this was quite a plump period for rotund little bachelorette Ray Ray.

Sexy dancing for my cat. This barmy behaviour I’ve only recently acquired. Every morning when I stumble out of bed and into the shower, I am greeted by a meowing Max. He precariously weaves his way around my feet, almost causing me to trip, then jumps up onto the toilet so he’s at eye level and watches me for the entirety of my wash. Don’t ask me why but lately I’ve been busting out sexy stripper-esque moves in an attempt to make Max meow. It actually just makes me laugh, because he stares back with this blank expression on his face, like “why are you subjecting me to this”. I’m sure he’s probably thinking I wish this bitch would hurry up and give me my fucking tuna.

Cooking like I’m Gordon fucking Ramsay. If you went through the ol’ Cormack home videos, you would find about 50 of me and my sisters pretending to be famous TV chefs. These days if I have the house to myself and I’m cooking alone, I crack open a red and put on one hell of a show for my imaginary home viewers. I talk about my ingredients, my inspiration for the dish and offer helpful tips and tricks. In my head I’m slicing and dicing like a professional, masterchef-ing the shit out of all that stuff I prepared earlier, my tits have a healthy jiggle just like Nigella and I float around the kitchen seamlessly. In reality, I’ve got a whole lot of veggies that have been hacked to buggery, multiple cuts on my fingers and a blackened steak threatening to set the fire alarm off.

Wax Mining and Polish Peeling. I’m not into pimple popping or booger picking, but I really like using cue tips to clean my ears. I am strangely satisfied whenever they come out slightly orange and love the feeling of pushing them in so deep they almost hit my drum. I know, this is ill-advised, but I can’t help it. I had a friend say to me once if they didn’t want us to put things in our ears why did they make it feel like you have a g-spot in there, it’s just so god damn gratifying. Another kooky habit I possess; picking off nail polish, and it doesn’t have to be my own. I love it when I get a really good peel going and it comes off in one intact layer. I have nail polish remover but rarely use it because I just prefer to pick. Ollie really hates this habit as I leave little piles of polish all over the house.

I say you should embrace your freaky foibles; these innate quirks and idiosyncrasies are what make you unique and original.

#kinkyrayray #freakfetishes #superfreak #bangbang