Today is the day I start to cook for Thanksgiving. There’s so much to do that I’m almost overwhelmed. Do you think my family would mind too much if we just ordered in a pizza?

______

I suppose I should clean, too, but that seems pretty pointless, as the little people make messes faster than I can clean them up.

Ah well, at least I have the comfort of knowing that time’s arrow is indeed functioning properly in my house!

______

In somewhat related news, I’ve broken yet another vibrator. If you are keeping track, this is the third vibe that has met its demise in the Bermuda Triangle of my puss this year, and that doesn’t even count the couple I’ve trashed because they were completely worthless.

This rechargeable vibe might be a good Christmas present from me, to me. What do you think?

 

Since I was a wee bitty thing, I’ve been making lasagnas. My mother is The Matriarch of Lasagnas; she taught me well.

But I’m so contrary that I cannot follow a recipe. I scorn recipes. Recipes are for the weak.

My mother is religious about recipes. Clearly I’m still a bit of a teenage rebel.

Whenever I need to make lasagnas (usually when someone I know has a baby–have a baby and I’ll bring you a lasagna!), I make a bunch of them. Many many lasagnas, made assembly-line fashion, strung out across the counters.

One problem. With such pig-headed refusal to follow a recipe, I cannot accurately predict how much of any one particular ingredient I’ll need. I guess pretty well, but something always ends up running out before everything else.

Usually it’s the ricotta*. Ricotta is the limiting reactant.

And it’s a sad mess that is left, a lasagna without ricotta.

One of these days I’ll manage to make a batch where every ingredient runs out at the same time. That is my life’s quest.

That and a hard cock in my bottom.

______


People who comprehend a thing to its very depths rarely stay faithful to it forever. For they have brought its depths into the light of day: and in the depths there is always much that is unpleasant to see.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human

I gotta stop with the Nietzsche. Way too depressing.

If I ever wind up in another long-term relationship (which is doubtful, very doubtful), it will be clear from inception that monogamy will not be on the agenda.

No. More. Monogamy.

I will reserve the right to have other lovers if the occasion warrants, and he will have that right too, so long as he whispers to me tales of his exploits while he fucks me, hard. That would be lovely.

Is that weird?

______


Me, being anonymous over the IM: Have you ever been with a woman who had multiple orgasms?

Anonymous Adult Friend Finder Dude: I’m not sure…

Me, astounded: You aren’t sure? What do you mean?

Anonymous AFF Dude: Well, when I’m having sex I’m mostly thinking if I am attracted to her or not.

***short pause***

Me, appalled: I think we’re looking for different things…

Anonymous AFF Dude: No wait, tell me about your multiple orgasms!

The above conversation was from a long while ago. I’ve given up hope of being fucked (again) in the year 2006**. Would it be too melodramatic to say that conversations like this made me despair, deeply?

______
*Don’t even talk to me if you make lasagna with cottage cheese. Heretic.
**Or possibly ever again.

Nov 152006
 

These things I’ve learned about buttsex.

I record these things here, so that I will remember, in the (increasingly-unlikely) event that I am ever allowed to partake of its multifarious pleasures.

______

Recently a good few days had passed since I’d had more than little orgasms, wee orgasms, tip of the iceberg orgasms. My body was due for a big one, so badly that I was nearly vibrating with lust.

I followed my usual routine. Couch. Vibe. Toy. New batteries. Everyone else sleeping or absent. Jeans off to avoid the puddles. Towel under me. Then I got down to business.

When I haven’t come for several days, it’s hard, fast and urgent. One right after the next with not even a pause to catch my breath. The toy in my bottom was a buttplug this time, a soft jelly one that I wanted to try out. It did its job admirably–or at least it did at first.

As a stealth-masturbator, I typically wank with as few clothes removed as possible, so as to have at least a modicum of deniability. I got to the point that nipples had to be touched. They were screaming to be pinched bare, the pinching sending shocks directly to my already-throbbing clit. I pushed up my shirt. I pulled down the top of my t-shirt*.

Pinching my nipples and moaning, moving my hips in increasingly intense circles, feeling my bottom throbbing around the plug–some days orgasms are the sole thing that make life worth living. This was one of those days.

As I pinched and rubbed my nipple, I felt a small crunch. Crunch? What could possibly be crunching there?

I turned off the vibe so that I could investigate the crunching. As I did so, I realized that the plug had shifted during the last intense row of orgasms and was now nearly out of my bottom. I coerced it back inside of me and began feeling up by breasts.

Crunch.

A small lump.

A small goldfish shaped lump.

Dammit. I fished it out**, made sure the buttplug was firmly wedged back where it belonged, and resumed with the highest possible vibe speed. Sometimes a short break gives my body just enough time to relax and recover; the orgasms started up again, urgently moving toward that huge final one.

With something in my bottom and the final orgasm fast approaching, I’ve noticed that I have a tendency to moan aloud, “nononononononono.” Why? I don’t know. It’s certainly not the same “NO!” as was spoken here, but I could see how the two could be confused.

If I’m ever being fucked in the ass, verging closer to The Orgasm to End All Orgasms, moaning “nonononononono”– and my partner actually stops, I’ll have to bite off his head. Seriously. This will have to be discussed in depth beforehand, so that he will know that “nononononononono” in that particular context and ONLY that particular context means “if you stop, I will bite your head off.”

Only if I say “marmalade” should you actually stop. “Marmalade” will be my safe word.

With moans that surely could be heard throughout the Midwest, I came, the final huge come that generally leaves me spent for at least five minutes. I rolled off the couch. My buttplug rolled off after me, having apparently become dislodged at some previous point. It bounced away cheerfully.

Left on the couch was a shower of goldfish crumbs, leading me to puzzle over where on my person the rest of the school could be hiding.

______

And so I summarize the things I’ve learned about buttsex:

1. Whoever buttfucks me will need to hang on tight or risk being dislodged repeatedly.

2. Whoever buttfucks me will need to search for goldfish in my bra beforehand, unless he has a crush fetish***.

3. Whoever buttfucks me will need to remember the safe-word and not dream of stopping when I moan “nononononononono.” Unless he’d like to have his head bitten off.

______
*As I had no other plans for the day beside domestic duties and a really big wank, I wore only a t-shirt with a built-in shelf bra.
**Believe me when I tell you that I have found goldfish in far odder locations than my own bra.
***Does anyone have a crush fetish for goldfish?

 

Do you ever get the feeling that the only people reading your blog are the ones who hate you? The ones who just want to keep an eye on you?

Um, no, me neither.
______

In the mini…

Baby: (so rapidly that an immediate reply is not possible) Mom? Mom? Mom! Mom!!! MOM!!!!!

Me: What, baby?

Baby: Dink!

Me: Yes baby, we’ll get a drink at home.

Baby: (shrieks in annoyance for a solid minute, then goes quiet for five seconds)

Baby: Mom? Mom? Mom! Mom!!! MOM!!!!!

Me: What, baby?

Baby: Dink! Dink! Dink! Dink!

Me: Yes baby, we’ll get a drink at home. Quit asking!

Baby: (shrieks in annoyance for a solid minute, then goes quiet for five seconds)

Baby: Mom? Mom? Mom! Mom!!! MOM!!!!!

Me: What, baby?

Baby: Dink! Dink! Dink! Dink!

Me: (turns radio up louder; drives faster, still smiling though)

______

 

If you are in the US

and you haven’t

already done so,

VOTE!

______

I seem to follow a pattern when big decisions are necessary. For weeks, if not months, I stew in a bubbling cauldron of angst. I weigh pros and cons. I analyze. I brood. And it gets me absolutely nowhere.

Then one day, for no apparent reason, a switch flips in my brain and the answer seems clear. I think, “How was this not utterly apparent before?”

And then I act.

Every big decision in my life has been preceded by this process. This was perhaps most evident when the time came to conceive the first child. The husband considered himself ready for months…years, even. I knew I was not.

For months I agonized with no answers forthcoming. Then one day I had my yearly check-up. My doctor declared me in good health. I went home, feeling extra-shiny with youth and health, and while putting away laundry, a bolt of lightning hit me. I stopped in the hall, weighed down with a load of underwear, as the thoughts settled down in my mind.

Why not now? What better possible time could there be than now to begin trying to conceive? The switch flipped; I discussed the change of heart with the husband and we began the long process of making a baby. Decisions about marriage, employment, family and friendships have all been decided in a similar manner.

Right now, I’m so tired of going around and around in my mind. I want the confidence to make this decision with no dithering, no wishy-washiness, no angst. I want that now.

But I’m not quite there yet.

While I wait for my sloth-like mind to perform whatever machinations it finds necessary in order to reach its inevitable conclusion, I am a hypocrite, I am a cheater, I am a liar.

I am someone I don’t particularly want to be.

______

I hereby declare that I reserve the right to email anyone I see fit, unless of course that person has asked me not to email them.

I will email whomever I choose and I will speak only the truth, in the gentlest and kindest way possible. Any email I have sent has been after long thought and consideration, only because of my own convictions, and not acting on anyone else’s requests.

If you have a problem with an email I have sent, it would probably be best if you’d email me directly.

Furthermore, I currently am in the employment of no other person as their minion. However, I am seeking a position as a minion, if anyone is interested. I’ve always wanted to be a minion.

Anyone need a minion? I’m available.

Pricey, but available.

______

 

Oct 162006
 

I feel so guilty when I ramble here. I should give you decent, quality writing.

But no. Some days you get only the spewing detritus of my jumbled thoughts.

Forgive me?

______

Strangely enough, one is not really expected to sleep much during a sleep study. The nurse must have woken me up a dozen times.

A friend of mine mentioned that a nurse waking you throughout the night could lead to some porn-like moments. Hm.

Could have happened, I suppose, if she’d not told me repeatedly that I was loosening my chin electrode by drooling as I slept.

The romance was dead before it even started. Alas.

No one likes a drooler.

______

My child has a new occupation. She drops her goldfish crackers carefully onto the ground and then crushes them with her tiny heel. When I tell her to stop, she calmly says “no.”

She calmly says “no” to nearly every thing I ask her (other than “Do you want a cookie?”). With perfect coolness and equanimity, she continues to crush goldfish, gaze at me with her liquid-blue eyes, and say “no.”

I’m raising a tiny Bartleby.

______

Steve Watson is in a new show on HGTV. He’ll be all sweaty. God. That whisky voice and sweat, and building things.

Capable men make me weak in the knees.

______

Ah, you really want to know why I lack the brainpower to write something substantial today?


O: Ugh! I’m the worst possible blogger today!


me:
[smile] Noooo I surely am.

O: I’m the worst blog citizen. I never comment on anyone, hardly.


me:
Well all I can do is sit and look at my own masthead!

O:
Hahaha. Yes, damn you.


me:
Come on over. You can look at it too!

O: I did! I was! Iam! I’m getting no work done today!

me:
Really, just now?

O: Yep.

me: We’re pathetic!



Seems that most of you are enjoying the new masthead?

I’m glad.

Oct 122006
 

Disjointed thoughts.
______

Too much painting. My hands hurt.
______

Have looked at too many pictures of naked men and then immediately had my way with my poor abused pussy.

If I die mid-wank, the coroner in my little conservative town is going to be extraordinarily surprised to find an njoy in my ass*.

______

The charming and large-cocked** Para from Chilli Talk is interviewing me in the morning. I’m flipping terrified.

I know what’s going to happen. He’s going to sweet-talk me for a half-hour. He’s going to get me all horny and stuff***. He’s going to make me drop my guard.

Then he’ll bring out the tough questions. He’ll ask me about quadratic equations, or Heidegger, or the correct use of the present perfect progressive tense, and I’ll be completely flummoxed.

______

Madame X, we’ve got to stop coming at the same time. Unless we’re in the same room.

______

Yeah, um, that’s all. My brain is mush from painting and naked men.

I’d swear of painting and naked men, but I think that resolution would fail in about a day.

At least the naked men part.

______

*Thanks so much for putting this idea in my head. You know who you are.

**So I’ve heard. I have no direct knowledge of this. Yet.

***Yeah, like that’s difficult.

 


Once an ancient priest gave a present to a young monk. It was a tiny carved box. “What shall I do with it?” the young monk asked.

“Anything you like,” answered the priest.

So the monk took it home and placed it on his mantel. Immediately he noticed that the beauty of the box emphasized the shabbiness of the rest of the mantel. The monk took a moment to straighten the mantel.

But he noticed that the mantel now threw the chaos of the rest of the room into sharp contrast. He cleaned it up, so that it would match the order of the mantel.

When the room was beautiful, he noticed that the rest of his house looked shabby in comparison. So he put the rest of his house into order as well.

After his house was straightened, he looked outside and noticed the disarray of the rest of the world. He took one last look at the beauty of his house, then stepped outside to begin the task of restoring harmony to the rest of the world.

______

This is where I am with my repair/paint project. Every little bit that is completed shows up more the entropy around it. Every job creates three more jobs.

Can’t. Stop. Fixing. Things. Can’t. Stop. Painting.

I tell myself I’m fixing and painting so that when the time comes to sell, it will be ready. The house will be ready.

I hope that when the house is ready, I am also ready.

______

The kids are lucky they are all mobile or else I’d paint them too.

Oct 102006
 
This has been stuck in my head all day long.
I’m sharing it with you so as to exorcise it from my brain.

Fat chance of that.

Isn’t it gorgeous?

******

“Til Kingdom Come”

Steal my heart and hold my tongue.
I feel my time, my time has come.
Let me in, unlock the door.
I’ve never felt this way before.

The wheels just keep on turning,
The drummer begins to drum,
I don’t know which way I’m going,
I don’t know which way I’ve come.

Hold my head inside your hands,
I need someone who understands.
I need someone, someone who hears,
For you, I’ve waited all these years.

For you, I’d wait ’til kingdom come.
Until my day, my day is done.
And say you’ll come, and set me free,
Just say you’ll wait, you’ll wait for me.

In your tears and in your blood,
In your fire and in your flood,
I hear you laugh, I heard you sing,
“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

The wheels just keep on turning,
The drummers begin to drum,
I don’t know which way I’m going,
I don’t know what I’ve become.

For you, I’d wait ’til kingdom come,
Until my days, my days are done.
Say you’ll come and set me free,
Just say you’ll wait, you’ll wait for me.
Just say you’ll wait, you’ll wait for me.
Just say you’ll wait, you’ll wait for me.

Find Me Here



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