For those of you still using the “old” Blogger–why? I held off in switching, but it’s worth it. The conversion itself is simple (just sit back and wait) and the new interface is much less clunky. The Deadly Spinning Wheel of Publishing is gone! You can label your posts!

What’s the problem?

I’ve recently finished a tedious project. All my old posts–16 months’ worth now–have been transferred over to an archive blog, also on the “new” version of Blogger.

See, every time I got paranoid or whatever, I’d delete masses of old posts. How I long for a day when I don’t have to worry about old posts coming back to haunt me.

So now, everything is in one spot. One password-protected, invitation-only spot.

It’s mostly meant as a reference for me, but if you have a burning desire to read old posts, you may email me.

My little girl is learning the ABCs. She thinks that the letter after “g” is “ouch.” She has to stop and laugh at the ridiculousness of a letter called “ouch” every time we sing the ABCs.

It’s charming.

In my new adventures in dating, I’ve needed to remind myself that Real People are very different from Sex Bloggers. Things that can be said to one’s fellow Sex Bloggers without fear cannot be said to Real People without Real People accusing you of “sounding like a guy.”

Which apparently is not an attractive trait in a potential dating partner.

I’m going to have to write The Rules on my forearm and refer to them frequently.

The other day I was in a foul mood, which only lifted after a brief but intense session of coming.

Even a quick wank by myself improved my mood so much that I had to wonder: How would life be different if I’d spent the last decade-plus in a marriage with regular, happy sex?

Would I be perkier? More regularly cheerful? Overflowing with energy? I bet my teeth would be whiter, my hair shinier, my fingernails stronger…I bet I’d be thinner, stronger, taller even!

Shinier hair from more sex. I gotta get to it!

“When you see some tornado living with a squid, it means that a salad dressing ceases to exist. And when that’s done, I believe I’ll see if I can do anything about getting the fuck out of here, Annie.”
–my favorite spam email ever

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Can you see the tiny mushroom hidden away between the branches of this tree?

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Coats bedevil me.

As long as the temperature remains above 0F, you’ll not find me in a coat, no matter what the date. Even if the temperature drops below 0F, I refuse to wear a coat in the car–not for a trip across town or across country. If I’m merely going from my house to the garage to the store and back again, I won’t wear a coat.

I’ll load a coat in the car (in fact, a coat often spends the entire winter, unworn, in the wayback of the mini along with my other cold-weather-emergency supplies) but my body remains happily unencumbered by heavy wool or down as I make my way through the cold months.

I hate coats. My arms feel restricted and I invariably overheat; I cannot tolerate the cognitive dissonance of roasting on a freezing day.

Also, my constant small companions are a collective 60+ pounds of wiggly-giggling heat, packaged in curly-headed squirming containers. Why would I need a coat when I’m toting my own small furnaces around with me?

My determination to clothe my body as I see fit turns my mother, especially, into a gibbering mass of outraged parental concern. The fact that I’ve made it to nearly 40 years old and have yet to suffer even the tiniest degree of frostbite, much less death from freezing, fails to deter her indignation at my flaunting of the weather.

I remain unfazed by her raving. When it’s cold, I like not to be hot.

This is the main reason I love these dark days of December. I love this time of year because we are now so close to the upward swing of things. Light will return to this portion of the Earth. We are halfway through the darkest portion of the year. It cannot get any darker. For the next six months the light will increase.

If I had my way, I’d list the seasons as so: Summer, Autumn, Almost-Spring, and Spring.

I feel deep gratitude for the return of the light. That’s what I celebrate now, in these painfully short days and wickedly long nights in late December. I’ll watch my mailbox carefully, not for the same Christmas cards I receive every year, but for the first seed catalog of the season, which invariably arrives at this time. I’ll hang over the pages, trying to soak up some of the glorious hot summer light from the pictures.

And when my mother asks once again why I am not wearing a coat, I’ll tell her, “Mom, it’s Almost-Spring! Light is coming back! Who needs a coat?”

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And now for HNT Three Wishes

To Shay, I wish an inbox packed full of cock the next time you decide to hold a festive-cock contest. And I wish that you’ll let me help judge again!

To Missouri Savage, I wish you the ability to change what needs to be changed in your life so that you will be completely at peace.

And finally, to Osbasso, I give you a many thanks for running HNT every week. I wish you infinite patience in dealing with Blogger’s many ineptitudes and outright failures.

I’ve been spending far too much time over at a site called The Perfect Phallus, written by Mrs. Candy. She features pictures, videos and articles devoted to…well, you figure it out.

The pictures are truly breathtaking, but honestly, I only go there to read the articles.

Really!

Mrs. Candy posted the video below a couple of days ago and I kept going back to see it. The singer’s face is just extraordinary. I want to kiss her and fuck her and watch her fuck someone else and…

Sorry, getting carried away.

Watch for yourself and tell me what you think. And go visit Mrs. Candy.

There, is everyone satisfied now?

Details forthcoming.

Lying in bed the other night, trying in vain to get to sleep, I noticed a pain in my right thigh. A strong pain.

Given my propensity for overabundant imagination, within minutes I’d decided that the pain was cancer (not simply overexertion from yoga, no, that would be too simple!) and that traditional treatments would fail. The leg would have to be amputated, shrieked my fantasy! At the hip!

Would anyone lust after an amputee? Would sex work? Could I still have doggie-style sex? Would I need the human version of this? Would it be possible to prop my leg stump up on a small table next to the bed? Could my partner steady me?

All this from settling too deeply into warrior position.

Or…

Yep, that’s it. Forgot to take my meds.

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My husband’s shrink is growing out his hair. Longer hair does nothing for him.

Pity, that. His hot-ness was pretty much the only thing that kept me ticking along through counseling sessions.
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Ordered a rechargeable vibe, but not the one alluded to here. It arrived. I’m saddened to report that it is weak, horribly weak.

Is there no other way than the Hitachi? Am I down to only one alternative? Must I put live electricity between my legs?

Barbaric, it is. Simply barbaric.
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For a Christmas gift, I’m working on a complicated and slightly tedious project for my mother, one that involves pictures of her family. Photoshop is great for removing unwanted elements in pictures, such as food on a child’s face, but I swear it’s wrecking my vision.

And you all thought I’d go blind from masturbation.

Last night I was looking at pictures and descriptions of cigars online, and I found myself getting turned on.

I mean, they give their sizes, both length and circumference. They line them up to be photographed as if the cigars are in a miniature beauty contest!

This is sick. I should check myself in somewhere. Who the hell gets excited over cigars?

Don’t answer that question; I already know.

Someone who has a raging libido and who has been fucked once this year.

Look at that. It’s like porn!

Anyone else forget to serve things that had been prepared for Thanksgiving?

I think my family set an all-time record this year. Four things remained in the fridge. Gah.

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Anyone else want to take a pass on the entire holiday season and skip right into mid-January? This is the most morose I’ve ever felt about the holidays. I’m ready to call the whole thing off.

Want to join me on a long vacation somewhere tropical instead of going to the mall?

Who’s in?