.: midnight confessions :.

2 Down - 6 to Go

2011-07-01T18:20:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm still doing the school thing. Currently carrying a 4.0 GPA which is amazing! Third quarter is proving to be more difficult than 2nd but I guess that's to be expected. I've got homework coming out my ears and not enough time to hit my fat ass with both hands.

Maybe I'll get creative this weekend and do a site overhaul. Hope you all have a very safe and happy Fourth of July.

God I Hate Winter!

2010-12-14T11:26:00.002-05:00

I missed class yesterday because of the fucking snowstorm that hit. The white shit was drifted so high, I couldn't open my front door let alone get to the garage.

Today's much better although bitter cold. Class was okay -- all about CPUs and Memory. I'm thinking this class will be useful in the future but I'm just not a mechanical kinda girl. I leave the hardware to Bro4. I'm all about the software.

Week One Complete

2010-12-09T11:04:00.000-05:00

UGH!!! Since ITT is an accredited school, general education courses are a part of the cirriculum -- math, science, social studies. Today begins three months of math, quite possibly my worst subject. This will certainly be interesting. I haven't had to add, subtract, multiply or divide fractions in over 25 years. And what's this "Magic One" the damned instructor's talking about. I'm so fucked! I think I'm gonna have to bite the bullet and ask Sis for help.

Day Two

2010-12-07T11:04:00.001-05:00

Well, here it is -- Day Two. As the school is undergoing renovation, nothing is where it should be. I spent 30 minutes wandering the halls looking for the classroom. Now, at five minutes before the start of class, only four lone souls sit in front of more computer and testing equipment than I've ever seen. Unfortunately, the snow's been falling for the past two days here on the North Coast. It sure is pretty if you don't have to be in it.

Sometime later

Ah ha! moments rock! I think I finally understand how to convert a standard number to a binary one. 0001 1001 0110 0100 is the year of my birth. How fucking cool is that!

Deja Vu All Over Again

2010-12-06T11:04:00.001-05:00

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm 46 years old and about to embark on Life v2.0. After 24 years in the public sector, I'm starting over again. Although Black Rock was good to me, we've parted ways albeit involuntarily. With the unemployment rate on the North Coast in double digits, prospective employers are being very selective in their hiring practices -- good for them, shitty for the average Jane who has a shitload of experience but no certification or degree to backup that knowledge.

So here I sit in a classroom of much young people waiting for the instructor to arrive and the learning to begin.

I definitely need to go back to LensCrafters to make sure my new glasses are the correct prescription as I can't clearly read what I'm writing. I'm also going have to contact Bro2 and put him on the hunt for an affordable laptop. Although I love putting pen to an actual sheet of paper, we all know this will have to be put into electronic form to share with the world.

Since it's been forever and a day since I've done any blogging, I look at the aesthetics of my little electronic world and realize it's time for an overhaul -- new layout, new graphics, new widgets -- the whole nine yards. Damn, that is such a daunting thought seeing as how I haven't done any sort of coding in well over a year. Consequently, I'm not up on any of the changes Blogger has made. Maybe I need to research moving this tome to another cyberhome. (Hey, I made a funny! Guess I haven't lost it after all.) Class is beginning so I'll be back later.

Sometime later

Phase one of the class has been review and recap -- what instructors call a "soft landing" or introduction to college life. As the regular instructor isn't here, a sub covered almost nothing and we were out an hour early. Lord knows what tomorrow will bring. Here's to higher education!

Life Happens

2010-11-20T01:15:00.008-05:00

Well, I'm still alive but clawing to keep my head above water.

October 20th, Black Rock decided I would do better somewhere else. I haven't been in the job market since 1986! So, I'm now scraping by on unemployment for something like 20 weeks.

My days are spent searching job boards and North Coast companies for, at this point, any opportunity. Oddly enough, despite 24 years of "real world" experience, I ain't qualified for shit!! So, in order to be competitive, I've got to go back to school. Me! A 40-something tub o'goo has to go back to school to get a damned job. Where the fuck did I go wrong the last 24 years?? Whose ass didn't I kiss?? Why am I in this position??

I'll start classes on December 6th at ITT-Tech for, get this folks, computer network systems. Talk about a career change!! But, after 24 months, I'll have that damned degree employers are demanding.

I'm gonna have to find something part time because unemployment won't last and why start a full time job when I'm going to school full time. Just what I fucking want to do at this stage of my life -- start over.

The more I replay the "discharge" from Black Rock, the more pissed off I get. There were other options. Things didn't have to go down the way they did. I didn't have to be in this position but I had no clue this was the course the powers that be were going to take. I was caught completely off guard. I was dumbfounded and, at the time, had absolutely nothing to comeback with. And, I can't burn the bridge to Black Rock. In today's economy, no one can afford to cut off their nose to spite their face, right?

I could probably keep venting but I've had a horrific headache for 2 days now and really need to try to get some sleep. Can you say drugs and alcohol? I'll keep you posted, really I will.

Is Blogging Dead??

2010-02-25T23:58:00.010-05:00

Greetings and Salutations,

After receiving an email from my only reader, I've updated all my links in the sidebar. Going through them, I realize I'm not the same woman who started this blog six years ago. The biggest change is I'm not obsessed with sex, gay, straight or otherwise. Yes, I still find sex a fascinating subject; it just doesn't control my life as it used to. I guess I'm growing up or I'm getting old.

These past six years have seen a change in how people are communicating and expressing themselves online. Blogging was the "in" thing way back then. Then there was myspace. Now, there's Facebook and Twitter. So, is blogging as we knew it dead?

In almost every post, I tell you that there's so much more I want to write about but it never seems like I get around to writing anything of any importance. Blogging was supposed to help me de-stress, to get things off my chest that I couldn't tell a living person but I don't think it accomplished that goal. I'm great outta the gate but suck in the straightaway.

Don't panic, though. I'll still be around. Maybe I just need to schedule time to blog at least once a week even if it's just to recap local, regional, national and world events. Maybe I throw in some random antecdote or even vent about all the shit that pisses me off. Who can tell?!

Reading this over, it's pretty random but I felt I needed to post something to let anyone left reading this know I'm still here.

Peace, Love and Understanding!!

Are You Sure You Want To Know??

2009-02-01T22:55:00.001-05:00

I've been checking all my links because, as I'm sure you can imagine, a whole shitload of them are stale or simply gone. I came across ColorGenics and naturally had to take the test. This one says "see yourself as others see you". I was skeptical but it's so dead-on as to how I see myself I just had to share. So, without further ado, here is how others see me:

You are longing for some love and affection at this time - not that you have been deprived of tender loving care - but there are times when everyone needs to try something new or to go 'somewhere' else to perhaps experience that little extra 'understanding'.

You are greatly impressed by individuality and have interest in people who have outstanding qualities. You try to imitate those people that you admire and their characteristics, hoping that you will be able to display similar qualities in your own personality.

You are trying to prove yourself - not only to yourself but also to everyone around you. There is much that you would like to say and do but the situation warrants self-restraint and that is the last thing that you have on your mind. It would seem that you have an unsatisfied need to ally yourself with others whose standards are as high as your own. You want to be different - to stand out from the crowd. This is subjecting you to considerable stress but you tend to stick to your attitudes despite lack of appreciation. Of course, you are finding the situation uncomfortable and would like nothing better but to break away from it but you don't like the idea of compromise. Your main problem is that you are unable to resolve the situation because you continually postpone making the necessary decisions. You feel that if you make the wrong choice this would lead to such opposition that you would not be able to command the esteem of others. It is essential that those around you are prepared to comply with your wishes.

Although you are, deep down, a very caring person, you are very particular in the choice of friends and indeed very demanding at times. You can be most quarrelsome and controversial and it is because of this argumentative trait you can at times explode into open conflict - conflict with even those you may care for and love. It is because of this inherent argumentative streak in you that may have resulted in broken hopes and dreams.

Now there are many things in life that you require as essential to your well-being but, try as you may, something always seems to be getting in your way. A word of advice - 'keep trying' and you may be pleasantly surprised to see just how matters turn out.

Another Year ... Perhaps More Posts

2009-01-30T22:57:00.001-05:00

Greetings readers,

Yes, I've been gone way too long. I'm not going to apologize or offer any excuses except to say this public forum is beginning to make me feel a bit constrained. I don't feel I can truly reveal all the confessions I need to share. I don't know if I can continue.

A lot of things have changed in the six odd months since my last post ... there's a new president and the economy's in the toilet. Winter is raging here on the North Coast and, frankly, I'm fucking sick of it ... sick of the snow, sick of the cold. Unfortunately, unless I relocate to a warmer clime, I'm pretty much screwed.

I had my monthly session with my psychiatrist today and she got me to thinking about journaling or blogging or whatever the hell this is called. I've just spent the past two hours reading my "diary" beginning in 1985 and ending in 1994. What struck me was the frankness of the entries, the no-holds-barred writing. I didn't have to worry about protecting anyone's identity or about circumventing something so as not to offend because that diary was just for me.

Perhaps I miss the joy of putting pen to paper and letting whatever comes come. Perhaps I miss the honesty. Perhaps I miss the freeness of not having to censor myself. Who the fuck knows?! Do I throw caution to the wind, say fuck it, and write what I want to and to hell with the consequences or do I continue as before? I only know of one person who checks this, or at least used to, so what am I so damned afraid of?? Am I afraid of being judged? I don't know who reads this. Am I afraid you won't like me? Again, I don't know you so why do I care if you like me or not?

Obviously, I'm very conflicted here and don't know what to do. Any suggestions? Hopefully, more later!

HOLY SHIT

2008-08-20T12:31:00.000-05:00

I've been MIA for over six months!!! What the fuck was I thinking? Well, obviously, I wasn't thinking. It seems I don't have the energy to get me through the day let alone sit here and spew crap for you, my loyal reader.

In a nutshell, life's been busy as hell but I was compelled to log on and write because of the unexpected death of Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs-Jones (OH-D).

I'm not a big politico. Actually, politics makes me want to puke but Ms. Tubbs-Jones was a pioneer and deserves to be remembered for all she accomplished both in the City of Cleveland and on Capitol Hill. You can find a list of her accomplishments on her personal website and probably a bunch of other places on the Web. It's worth the time to read about her. She is a force that will be missed.

I'm not gonna blow sunshine up your ass and promise to write again soon. All I can say is I'll be back!

Alive and Kicking

2008-02-12T09:31:00.000-05:00

Well, we're some 43 days into 2008 and this is the first time I'm posting in over four months. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and that this year is shaping up to be far better than 2007.

So, what's on my mind? Lots of shit. The weather fucking sucks. We're slated for over six inches of snow throughout the day and more this evening. Combined with bone-chilling, below zero temps, it ain't fit for man nor beast out there.

The presidential election isn't for another nine months but I'm sick and tired of the fucking politics already. The lot of them are a bunch of con artists telling us what they think we want to hear. Once they're in office, you know they ain't gonna do shit. We'll still have troops in Iraq. We'll still be looking at record numbers of foreclosures. We'll still be struggling to eek out a living.

In my personal life, I'm still woodturning although not with the confidence I had last year and I don't know why. I've got to get back into the groove and find my muse or I'm gonna go crazy.

I adopted a cat, or rather he adopted me, about a month after Woody died. He's a grey and white Hemingway, which means he's got extra toes. We're still getting used to each other but it's better to have him here than to come home to an empty house each night.

After being on television for three seasons, I've fallen in love with House, M.D. on Fox. There's something incredibly sexy about Hugh Laurie but don't ask me what it is because I don't have a fucking clue.

Well, that's about it for the moment. Don't know when I'll be back but I WILL be back!

Life or Something Like It

2007-10-30T12:05:00.000-05:00

As you can see, I haven't posted in over four months. I missed the Fourth of July holiday, the anniversary of 9/11, the anniversary of my dad's passing and, well, most of the damned summer.

Most of my free time has been spent woodturning. I get so much satisfaction (usually) from being one with the wood I forget I have a life.

So, what brought me here today. This morning my four-legged son, Woody, died. I didn't expect it but knew something was wrong. He wasn't breathing right so I rushed him to the hospital. Even before the doctor could start examining him, Woody's heart just stopped. Damn, this house is empty without the thud of his feet or the tingle of his bell.

To top it off, I haven't had any meds in over two months so I'm an emotional wreck. How am I going to go on without my little buddy? Who will love me now? Who will need me now? I know Woddy was just a freaking cat but he was MY cat. He was the reason I got up in the morning. The reason I went to work each day. He was a close to a child as I will ever get and now he's gone. LIFE FUCKING SUCKS!!

Forever and a Day ...

2007-06-13T11:32:00.000-05:00

Or so it seems. I think about blogging every day but don't seem to have the energy or the words.

2007 is shaping up to be the year from hell. Grandpa passing in February started it all. I've taken more time off so far this year than I can ever remember taking off so soon in the year before. I just can't get fucking motivated to do much of anything but wood turning. I treasure each moment in front of the lathe; treasure each moment my mind quiets and my problems drift away.

When I'm not at the lathe, I'm either reading or crocheting. I'm restless. I'm uncomfortable with my own company. I'm even less comfortable with other people. I haven't been as involved with MS as in previous years. I did get a chance to see one of his March performances but nothing since. I haven't even emailed him about the lyrics for his new CD, due to be released sometime in August.

I want so much to just be left alone with my lathe, my books, my music and the occasional television show. I want to retreat from the world and just be by myself. I can completely understand how rich, successful people decide one day to chuck it all and live on the streets. I don't think I'd ever go that far but the thought is tempting.

I'd like to thank my faithful visitors - Magdala, Colette and Angel. I'm not going to make promises I can't keep. Know I'll try to blog more often. Actually, sitting here at Black Rock, listening to MS while I blog feels pretty damned good!

ADDENDUM: Thank you Tina for the lovely comment and, indeed, a big thank you to all you lurkers!

It's The End of the World As We Know It

2007-04-13T12:32:00.000-05:00

I've got two months of shit to talk about however the Imus debacle begs for my attention.

On April 6, 2007, shock jock Don Imus referred to the Rutgers women's basketball team as "nappy-headed hoes" during his radio show. From what I've read, the comment was off-the-cuff with no intended malice and he's apologized for being an "idiot". As a result of this heinous verbal slip, Imus was fired by CBS and MSNBC on April 12, 2007.

Before I proceed, I am not now, nor have I ever been a racist. Have I used racial slurs? Yes, as a matter of fact, I have but that doesn't make me a racist. An asshole? Perhaps but by no means a racist.

The hypersensitive nature in the world today began on February 1, 2004 when during the Super Bowl XXXVIII halftime show, Justin Timberlake exposed Janet Jackson's naked breast to a live audience. According to Wikipedia, 200,000 Americans called CBS to complain about the indecent exposure during a "family" event. After this landmark incident, it seems everyone's asshole puckered up tight and the tiniest criticism, slur, etc. sends everyone into a tizzy.

Can someone please tell me a) when the First Amendment of the Constitution was repealed and b) when political correctness began. If you've never read the Constitution, the amendment reads as follows:

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

Any normal person knows not to cry "FIRE" in a crowded theatre as that one word would incite mass panic resulting in injury or death but if someone calls me a "fat ass", I brush it off and move on. Are my feelings hurt? Hell yes but I'm not going to make a damned federal case of it.

When did Americans become so thin-skinned? Why are Americans so damned uptight about everything from language to religion to politics to sex? America is the most dysfunctional country on the fucking planet. The pisser is this idiotic political correctness is a means of "protecting the children". Give me a fucking break. I'd be willing to bet most of today's children have seen and heard far worse than they'll ever see or hear on television or the radio. And, have you noticed the Reverend Al Sharpton and the Reverend Jesse Jackson are ALWAYS at the forefront of this crusade. When were they appointed the protectors of the African-American people?

Without a doubt, African-Americans have been treated like shit since the moment the first ship brought them to America to slave their lives away. "Whitey" used them to plow the fields, clean the homes, cook the meals, tend to the children and probably more horrendous things. Female slaves were raped violently and repeatedly, often bearing mixed children the white fathers wanted nothing to do with. I am not a black historian, nor have I (or my ancestors) suffered through anything that could compare with the degradation, humiliation and abuse the African-Americans suffered. But people of the world have suffered their own humiliation, degradation and abuse for centuries.

But Imus isn't the only one causing waves. Rosie O'Donnell of The View has been "speaking out of turn" as well. From 9-11 conspiracies to religion to the Donald, Rosie calls 'em like she sees 'em. I'm not a Rosie fan but the woman's got guts. More people should speak up instead of keeping their true thoughts and feelings at bay in order to avoid upsetting someone.

Walking on eggshells sucks!! Worrying that every time you open your mouth you could be fired or sued or whatever sucks, too!! Prefacing every comment before saying something sucks!! Generally, people suck!!

When are we going to tuck in our skirts and suck it up? When are we going to realize we don't live in Utopia? When are we going to realize no one is owed anything? When are we going to realize shit happens and get the fuck over it already?

I'm a fat, four-eyed, short woman who cusses like a sailor, watches porn and fucks when she can, whose had her heart and feelings crushed time and time again. I don't cry about it. I live my life by my rules and my code of ethics. If you don't like it, fuck off!

Of course, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong ...

Time Flies

2007-04-09T09:29:00.000-05:00

No posts in over two months. Suffice to say, 2007 is proving to be a difficult year. February saw my sister in the hospital, my beloved grandfather passing and numerous personal injuries. I don't think I had time to catch my breath let alone engage my brain to post.

C'est la vie

2007-01-28T02:25:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year!

Okay, it's almost February but it's better late than never.

I'm bursting at the seams with things to say but I'm consumed with woodturning. So much so, I see potential designs everywhere ... chairs, banisters, vases, street lights and more. When the ideas flow, my mind goes through my wood inventory, my hands itch to hold a tool and I can't wait to attempt a duplication of my inspirations.

To date, I've completed 15 projects with 2 more in various stages. As my grandparents now reside in assisted living facilities, their oldest son has been cleaning out the family home. Lucky for me, every piece of wood he's found is now in my "shop" patiently waiting to be chosen for a new turning. There's ebony, curly maple, cherry, mahogany, box elder, pine, popular, purpleheart and so many others. There are logs and flats that will require being glued together before turning.

By the time I come home, I'm just too damned tired (and disappointed that I had to stop for the night) to sit in front of this machine.

I will attempt at least a monthly post but I'm not promising anything.

Revenge?

2006-12-30T00:12:00.000-05:00

Saddam Hussein has been executed. Dubya has done what Daddy wasn't able to do. The "war on terror" has been justified. BULLSHIT! Hussein and Iraq had squat to do with 9-11 but Dubya had to invade Iraq to avenge Daddy's debacle in the 90s.

With Hussein no longer a threat, it seems to me ALL US TROOPS SHOULD RETURN HOME!!! What the fuck does the US care who's in power? Why the fuck does the US feel the need to make every damned country in the world a democracy?

The American death toll in Iraq has surpassed the casualties of 9-11. HELLO!?!?! Is anybody out there? Does anybody care? Bring the troops home and concentrate on more pressing problems like poverty, health care, stem cell research and all the other plagues facing this nation.

Merry Christmas!

2006-12-25T03:17:00.000-05:00

Well, here is it ... Christmas 2006. It was another bust year but I'm more or less used to it. It seems my whole world is collapsing around me and I've no control over anything. Maybe I'll write more before the end of the year but, please, don't hold your breath.

Happy Holidays, bloggers!

One Down, One to Go

2006-11-26T20:39:00.000-05:00

Well, I made it through Thanksgiving. Now, if I can make it through Christmas, life will be good. For the first time I can remember, I actually baked for the holiday. What? Me? Bake? Yes, I promised Bro1 a sweet potato pie and that's what he got. For a first try, it wasn't too bad if I do say so myself.

I'm still woodturning with a vengence. I've completed seven projects with two in various stages of turning. Unfortunately, I think I've broken just as many. I promise to post some pictures as soon as I can.

Take care and don't let the humbug bite. Remember, Christmas isn't about trees and lights and presents.

SSDD

2006-11-07T12:02:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday was my "special" day. BFHD!! Mom made me baked rice for dinner and, instead of cake, got a French Apple Cream Cheese Pie to celebrate. I got a couple of cards but no presents. Why don't adults get birthday presents? I'm still a kid inside and love getting presents. Same thing with Christmas. Adults don't get presents, especially single adults. No wonder I'm so fucking depressed at the holidays.

On Saturday, SIL4 took me, Nec4b and Nec4c to an "open barn" at H.O.P.E. Horse Rescue. The group, which recently relocated from Litchfield, OH, had food, pony rides, face painting and more. It was so damned good to walk through the barns and bond with the dozen or so horses. It pisses me off that horse rescue is needed in the first place. Damn it, if you have a horse, take care of it. Don't neglect it!!

I wish I had time to volunteer there but don't. I suppose I could forego the woodturning to be with the horses but don't think I can commit to 8+ hours per week at the barns. Shit, I'm still getting used to two days a week turning.

To make last week complete, my beloved SUV died. Apparently the electronic relay module is all fucked up. Replacement price? $850 bucks!!! I'm hoping the mechanic can lay his hands on a gently used one at a junk yard. Until then, I've got to rely on others for transportation which fucking sucks!!!

Oh well. I've got to get my happy ass back to work. Back soon???

Too Long

2006-11-01T11:21:00.000-05:00

Another month has come and gone and I haven't posted shit. Believe it or not, I'm getting really involved in woodturning. You wouldn't believe how relaxing it is for me even if I'm just making sawdust. I'm getting to spend more time with my nieces and getting at least two hot meals a week. I'm also getting out of the house and away from this damned computer.

So much crap has gone down this past month, I'd love to get into the gory details but don't have a fucking clue where to start. Maybe this weekend I'll have the energy to tell the wicked tale but don't hold your breath. This is my hibernation time. Just put a cork in my ass and let me sleep until Easter.

Anyway, hope you all had a wonderful Halloween. I'll talk to you soon.

Carrying on the Family Tradition

2006-10-04T11:45:00.000-05:00

The anniversary of Dad's death is fast approaching and, for some strange reason, I'm really feeling it this year. I miss him more than words can say. He was my best friend, my confidante, my rock and, after lots of therapy, my tormenter (but that's a story for another time).

For probably 20+ years, the men in the family have had (and continue to have) a love affair with wood. Whether turning or carving, some of the most exquisite candlesticks, goblets, bowls, figurines and more have come out of our garages and basements. I remember watching Dad take an otherwise ordinary hunk of tree or lumber, chuck it up, then begin to bring out whatever was hidden in the piece.

I never gave much thought to taking up the hobby until last Thursday. A co-worker told me she'd seen one of my uncles at a Christmas boutique (already???) and what wonderful work he does. Well, this particular uncle is an asshole but, that too, is a story for another time. After our conversation, I got to thinking about the family hobby and I suddenly had a burning desire to see if I had any talent.

Since Bro4 is the only brother who actively turns, I asked him if he'd teach me, if for no other reason than to see if I could do it. I think I heard excitement, or maybe joy, in his voice as he said he'd love to.

Last Thursday, he went over the basics of the art. The deafening sound of the lathe and the smell of the wood washed over me like a tidal wave. I was transported back to Dad's workshop all those years ago and missed him all the more. Bro4 showed me how to hold the tools, how to stand then stepped away from the lathe, handed me a tool and said have at it. Two hours later, I was loathe to leave.

He told his wife later than night he was amazed at how quickly I picked the process up. I think he may even be a little proud of me but what the fuck do I know. I've got to work on my technique but, with practice, could be as good as my uncles. So now, Tuesdays and Thursdays are woodworking nights with a slew of bonuses. Not only will I get to continue to hone my new skills but I'll get to see my nieces more often and I know Bro4 will make sure I get dinner. What more could a girl ask for?

Last night, I was really into the groove until the piece I was practicing on shattered. Oh well, just part of the hobby. Chuck up another piece of wood and start again. I can't see what lies inside the wood but that too will come with time.

Maybe I'll even post pictures of my creations in the future. I pray to God this isn't another one of my fucking phases. Woodturning is excellent for quieting my mind and will build my upper arms strength. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.

Five Years Later

2006-09-11T08:19:00.000-05:00

September 11, 2001. Like the generation who remembers to this day where they were when Kennedy was assassinated, none of us will forget where we were when terrorism struck our shores. Me? I was home on bedrest for a pinched nerve in my back. Mom called. "Turn on CNN." As I watched, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Airplanes crashing into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania. People jumping to certain death from the Twin Towers. Chaos as first one then the other tower collapsed.

I thought of my co-workers in the 66-story building here on the North Coast. Were we next? Our tower is the next largest after the World Trade Center and before Chicago. Other than more deaths, what purpose would demolishing it serve? For the time being, none. We were safe, or as safe as on can be during an all out, unprovoked terrorist attack.

That day and for many days afterward, I watched news report after news report seeing the images of that day over and over and over again. I cried. I got angry. I prayed. I got more angry. This seemed surreal. Surely I was dreaming. But when the dust literally settled, thousands of lives were senselessly lost. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fire, police, paramedics, port authority all decimated in the blink of an eye. And that's when I got pissed. Why had this happened? Who could have done this?

The remainder of this post will undoubtedly piss off a lot of readers. But, despite the solemnness of the day, I've got to express my thoughts. You have been warned.

I enjoy a good conspiracy theory just like the next person but this one is way too plausible. According to hundreds of websites, 9-11 was an inside job. The government KNEW the attack was coming and the Idiot in the White House took full advantage of it. You see, Dubya NEEDED to get US troops to the Middle East to a) protect his (and his family's) oil interests and b) to get Saddam because Daddy couldn't. The Idiot has publicly said Iraq had nothing to do with 9-11 so why the fuck are US troops occupying that country?

From the time the first plane hit the Twin Towers, Osama bin Laden and Al-Qaeda proudly claimed responsibility for the atrocious acts. Dubya got on television, quoted the 23rd Psalm, expressed grief over the loss of life and promised the American people we'd get bin Laden at all costs. He made it sound like the US would launch a full-court press into Afghanistan to find this fucker. But, soon after troops were sent to Afghanistan, the war on terrorism was abandoned and the Idiot deployed troops to Iraq.

As previously mentioned, the Idiot has publicly stated Saddam Hussein and Iraq had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with 9-11. So why deploy US troops to Iraq? OIL. The war in Iraq is all about OIL. It's about controlling the production and distribution of oil. It's about controlling the price per barrel of the stuff. It's about making the rich richer and the poor poorer. It's about a greedy, self-important little man who can't speak a lick of proper English who wants to control the world. Remind you of someone else??

But back to the attacks. Here are some things to think about:

watch the collapses of the Twin Towers. Their demise was, without a doubt, a controlled demolition. As for the 3,000 victims, collateral damage.

watch the collapse of WTC 7. This too was a controlled demolition.

look at the hole in the Pentagon. There is no way on God's green earth it was made by an airplane. And where's the debris? Where're the bodies?

look at the hole in the Shanksville field. There's no way a plane made the hole. Here, as with the Pentagon, where's the debris? Where're the bodies?

cell phone calls could not have been made from the four aircraft. This is a fact that is irrefutable. So, where did these calls come from? They came from the ground.

at least two flights landed at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport. Why? Did the passengers disembark? If so, where are they?

watch film of Dubya being told of the attacks. Instead of being hustled off to a secure locale, he continues to read to the children (all be it from a book he's holding upside down). Why the calm? BECAUSE HE KNEW WHEN AND WHERE IT WAS HAPPENING BEFORE IT HAPPENED.

read the 9-11 Commission's "official" report. It doesn't say a whole helluva lot about the terrorist act itself. The Pentagon LIED to the so called Commission, the Idiot refused to testify under oath and Condi Rice was a mouthpiece. Bottom line ... the government didn't, and still doesn't, want the public to know anything about 9-11.

If you'd like to have the shit scared out of ya, read "Speaking Truth to Power: 20 Things We Know Five Years After 9-11". It turned my blood cold and if it doesn't turn yours cold, you're a fucking sheep, willing to blindly follow the wolf in sheep's clothing.

There are a million and one other theories about 9-11. Being an intelligent, thinking human being, I don't buy every one. Frankly, some of the theories are downright absurd. And, even after Popular Mechanics "debunked" the 9-11 myths, there's still something fishy going on and the government is behind the stink!

This is our world, folks. Wake up and smell the corruption. Remember, power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely.

If you decide to leave an ugly comment or start preaching God to me, don't bother. I'll delete the motherfucker. As pathetic as it is, this is STILL America where I am guaranteed the FREEDOM OF SPEECH. If you don't like it, move on.

You'll Be Missed Mate

2006-09-04T10:32:00.000-05:00

I'd like to express my deepest sympathies to Terri, Bindi and Bob Irwin and their families on the tragic loss of husband and father, Steve. He put Australia on the map and opened eyes to conservation both in his native land and around the world. Steve's enthusiam and passion for the animals and conservation of their natural habitats will be greatly missed but I'm sure Terri and the children will continue Steve's mission.

If you'd like to contribute to Steve's neverending mission, visit Wildlife Warriors, the organization Steve and Terri established in 2002. You can also visit Australia Zoo for ways to help the animals. Finally, check out Animal Planet's The Crocodile Hunter site for information on how to contribute to the memorial fund The Discovery Channel has established in Steve's honor.

Rest easy, Mate ... we'll take it from here!

Too Freaking Hot

2006-08-01T11:38:00.000-05:00

The last five days or so have seen a fucking heatwave blanket the North Coast. I'm all for warm temps but 100+ heat indices are insane.

So, when I'm not at work, I'm holed up in my condo diligently working on my supplemental income idea, designing and sell cross stitch patterns. I seriously wish I had my new glasses because I'm really in the mood to actually sew some of these patterns. Sometimes I wish I were independently wealthy or at least financially stable so I wouldn't have to work and I could spend my days doing what the fuck I want when I want. I'm anti-social by nature, so living in a cabin in the mountains with running water, electricity and cable would be perfect but the likelihood of that happening is zip.

Anyway, just wanted to bitch for a moment.

Still Hurts

2006-07-27T12:36:00.000-05:00

I know I've been terribly quiet lately and I don't really have an excuse. Not that I need one. This is my blog and I'll blog if I want to.

I've missed the deadlines for the 2006 Blogathon which fucking sucks. I was really looking forward to raising some money for charity. Maybe next year I'll have my shit together. Click on the link above and sponsor someone. Your contribution goes 100% to the charity the blogger has selected and it's 100% tax-deductible.

Most of my time lately has been spent researching starting an online business, or at least a way to generate a few extra bucks to help make ends meet. Of all the things I'm talented at, I've decided to share my creativity by offering cross stitch services. This will include purchase of original designs, graphs converted from stamped cross stitch or patterns with colors and no symbols, photos-to-floss and any custom design you could think of. I'm not going to get rich with this. Like I said, until Black Rock gets off its fucking ass and decides to compensate me more in line with comparable positions elsewhere, I gotta do something.

Finally, the main reason I'm writing is because six years ago today, life dealt my family a blow that continues to cause pain. My beloved nephew should have turned six in May but instead has been in the ground for six years. He should have been playing ball with his dad, rough housing with his sisters, and all the other things boys do but instead, he's romping in Heaven with my dad. Yes, he's in a better place but, damn it, he was taken much too soon. Did his brief life serve a purpose? After much thought, I think it did. He was born to save his sisters and his father from his mother. I know that sounds dramatic but unfortunately I can't get into detail. Suffice to say, Bro4 and his daughters are happy and healthy because Nef1 died. God surely does work in mysterious ways.

I'm not gonna promise to post more often for it would be a promise I know in my heart I can't keep. Fear not, though. I'll be here as often as my heart and mind allow.

Hope you're all surviving the summer!

Happy Birthday, America

2006-07-04T22:35:00.000-05:00

Two hundred and thirty years of independence. Pretty amazing if you think about it.

Contrary to popular opinion, today marks when the Declaraction of Independence was ratified by the Continental Congress, not when it was signed. Only John Hancock, President and Charles Thomson, Secretary signed the document on the 4th. That night, 200 copies were printed, one of which was sent to George Washington on 06 July 1776. Today, only a handful of those first runs remain. One resides under glass at the National Archives in Washington, D.C. The whole congress didn't sign the document until 02 August 1776 in geographic order of their colonies from north to south, though some delegates were not present and signed later.

If you've never read the Declaration, I recommend you take the time to do so. Although a bit dry, Thomas Jefferson captures the vision the Founding Fathers had for their new nation. If they were suddenly to return, I doubt they'd recognize the country they started. If you'd rather not read it, go to Declare Yourself. Scroll down to the middle of the page and launch the Declaration of Independece performance. I've never been more moved in my life.

I could probably write forever about this topic. It is, after all, history and I do love getting lost in the past.

Happy Birthday, America - land of the free and home of the brave.

Shouldering the Burden

2006-06-25T21:45:00.000-05:00

I receive at least 100 email forwards every week. Usually, I give them a quick look then delete them. I received the one below today.

Normally, I'd of forwarded this one. Although I strongly oppose the war in Iraq, I whole-heartedly support our troops. I thought a button in my sidebar proclaiming both my support for US troops and my disgust at those countries decrying the war would be awesome. So, I started searching the web. That's when I discovered this photo is a fake.

"Soldier Wears 'Doing The Work of" Patch on His Uniform?" at BreakTheChain.org explains the fakery. It amazes me how many email forwards are in fact fakes. I guess it just proves how gullible people are.

Rollin' With The Flow

2006-06-20T11:49:00.000-05:00

I can't believe it's the middle of June and I haven't made one damned post.

As usual, real life has gotten away from me. I sometimes even forget I have a blog. However, there are times (actually quite a few times) when writing and sharing would be great. Much to my dismay, though, I've found myself self-censoring; debating with myself about posting thoughts, feelings, happenings. Why? At least one person I know in the real world regularly checks this and there are things I'm certain he wouldn't like reading. These aren't things about him but things happening in my life which I feel might change his opinion of me. So, I've more or less kept my fingers quiet. Kinda sucks actually! I should get a set of balls, say "fuck it" and write what I want -- to hell with the consequences. Unfortunately, for some god-unknown reason, I give a shit about what others think of me.

LP and I are going strong after eight months. We are taking things slowly. Hell, we've got all the time in the world, right? I still haven't met his family nor has he met mine and that's okay. God knows I've made too many fucking mistakes in the past to rush head-long into anything now. Yes, our time together is very limited due to his work schedule and raising his children but I'm happy for whatever time we can share.

Nothing much else is going on -- work, sleep, work. I did make it to the Michael Stanley and the Resonators concert on 03 June which was incredible. The following Saturday, the Chryslers' had a gig at a local rib burn-off. It was quite possibly the most fun I've had in a very long time. I actually got on stage, danced and sang for the last song. Guess I'm now officially a Chryslerette!! This Saturday is another local Chryslers' gig and I can hardly wait! Put on your dancing shoes; go grab somebody and spread the news!!

That's all for now, dear readers. I'm once again toying with the idea of remodeling. Anyone have any suggestions for color schemes for MC?

All Gave Some ... Some Gave All ...

2006-05-28T17:37:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is Memorial Day; a day in which we honor the men and women who have died in military service for their country. For most, tomorrow is the beginning of summer; a time for picnics and parades; a convenient three-day weekend.

But we would not have these and other luxuries if not for the brave men and women who have, and continue to, defend our freedom. From the Revolutionary War to the War in Iraq, soldiers and sailors, airmen and Marines have answered the call time and time again. No matter where in the world they are needed, no matter their political affiliations, no matter their feelings of the conflict, they never raise a question when Uncle Sam calls.

Some will return to a hero's welcome. Some will return in flag-draped coffins and, as "Taps" is played, as the 21-gun salute is volleyed, as those coffins are placed in the ground, families will mourn their loss but America should also mourn for another brave, courageous soul who died fighting for what s/he believed in has been lost.

So here's to the men and women of the military; past, present and future. May God bless you and keep you safe as you keep us safe.

Fact or Fiction??

2006-05-16T19:48:00.000-05:00

Okay, here's the scoop. I'm fucking pissed at the fucking world. No, that's not an accurate statement. I've had it with government and religion. Dubya's head is so far up his ass, he doesn't have a clue he's single-handedly grinding this once-great country into the ground. Gas prices are through the fucking roof; soldiers and civilians continue to die in Iraq, the cost of living is skyrocketing, etc., etc. I'm not sure America can hang on until 2008.

The Pentagon released video of American Airlines Flight 77 crashing into the Pentagon on September 11th. I've watched this 40-second clip until my eyes bled and I have yet to see the Boeing 757, which carried 87 people including the crew. As the five-year anniversary approaches, I've been researching that horrific day and I've come to the conclusion things just don't add up. Whether conspiracy or cover-up or whatever, the attacks of September 11 go far deeper than Osama bin Laden trying to bring down the infidels. Don't believe me? Then go to "Loose Change" and, with an open mind, watch the videos and read the articles. Maybe I'm naive. Maybe I'm gullible. Maybe I just don't trust anyone anymore but this documentary makes a helluva lot more sense than "official" reports.

Then, there's religion. First, the Diocese of Cleveland had its new bishop installed yesterday during an insufferable three-hour ceremony. But the Vatican didn't appoint an ordinary bishop to our little burg. No, His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI appointed the "Ax Man", Bishop Richard Gerard Lennon. Formerly of Boston, Lennon is the one who handled the huge sex scandal there in 2002. He's been sent to the North Coast to "cut the fat" and to, undoubtedly, close many churches and schools for lack of parishioners and declining enrollment. Cleveland is having enough problems without worrying about what this goober is going to do to "his" flock. And, frankly, it pisses me off. Now, I'm not a practicing Catholic. I don't agree with a lot of what the Church teaches but that doesn't make me any less spiritual than the bible beaters. I have a personal relationship with our Lord and I know He loves me despite my flaws.

Anyway ... as most of the 800,000 Catholics on the North Coast rejoice their new leader, the world is gearing up for the release on Friday of "The Da Vinci Code". The "faithful" are freaking out, demanding director Ron Howard put a damned disclaimer stating the movie is fiction, not fact. Props to Opie for refusing.

I've read the book and I found the theories author Dan Brown presented thought-provoking, intriguing and, much to the chagrin of religious family members, entirely plausible. I see no reason why Jesus couldn't have been married to Mary Magdalene. As a rabbi, He would have been expected to "go forth and multiply" so the thought of a child of Jesus is also entirely possible. But, for most Catholics, if it ain't in the Bible, it ain't true. Bullshit! The Bible is open to millions of interpretations. To get a much fuller picture of Christ's time on Earth and the birth of Christianity, you must read the Gnostic Gospels, the Apocrypha and other early Christian writings. You need to understand the Bible contains only the writings Emperor Constantine deemed appropriate for public consumption. God didn't edit the Bible, Constantine did and in doing so, left a helluva lot of early Christian history out, such as the important role women played in spreading the Word.

I'm not a theologian. I'm not a historian. I'm not college educated. I'm just an ordinary woman with some extraordinary thoughts and ideas and The Da Vinci Code brought Jesus the man to life. I felt closer to Him after reading the book than I do after spending a month of Sundays in Church. The book made Christ real for me, which I found oddly comforting. For a woman who lost her faith many years ago, a simple, fictional story opened my eyes in ways nothing else ever has.

Well, once again, this post is all over the place. I could have kept writing for much longer but I need to relax my mind with a nice, hot bath, candles and some Michael Stanley. But, I do feel better having vented.

Peace and Love to you all!

PS - flaming comments will be removed. This is my blog. These are my thoughts. Don't try to preach to me!!!

Happy Anniversary, Baby!

2006-05-11T20:18:00.000-05:00

Today marks MC's second year in the blogosphere. Reading through the old posts, I realize I started out like gangbusters but have faded with the passage of time. There's still so much I want to talk about; so much I want to discuss. I'm not going anywhere but, hopefully, I can get back on course soon.

Blog Tag

2006-04-18T19:48:00.000-05:00

Found this at Anything and Everything and thought I'd give it a shot. Don't have a clue who to tag so feel free to copy and try it yourself.

If you could grab any famous person's azz, who would it be and why? Too many men with sexy asses; Colin Farrell, George Clooney, Ben Affleck, Heath Ledger; why else grab someone' azz than to let them know you find them hot!
If you could switch lives with Paris Hilton, would you? HELL no ... she's a poor little rich girl with too much money and too much freaking time on her hands.
If your best friend of the opposite sex was not your best friend, would you wanna hit? Most definitely. Too bad he's gay.
What's the last thing you stole? Office supplies from Black Rock; various computer peripherals too.
Would you rather walk around smelling like food or smoke? Hell, I smell like smoke now; why change?
If you could give yourself head would you? How often? If I could eat my own pussy, I most definitely would as often as possible.
If yes, would that make you a homo? It's not gay if it's yourself.
Is 'homo' a bad word? It does carry derogatory connotations.
If you could be another race which would you be and why? Never given this much thought. Wish I could be any minority for a day to see first hand the discrimination they encounter.
Think of your most passionate career dream. Now, would you elect to have that exact job today if you had to agree that on your 60th birthday you would get what Muhammad Ali got? God, no! I can't imagine suffering like than, seeing yourself slowly deteriorate before your own eyes.
If you could kill someone without going to jail or having violent flashbacks or guilt, would you? Knee-jerk answer is most definitely but after some rational thinking, I don't think I could kill anyone.
If you could know how/when you would die would you want to know? Absolutely, positively not! When your number comes up, it comes up. There's nothing you can do about it.
Would you want to have vision like those lights at nightclubs where you could see everything crawling on you, not just lint? This question doesn't even make sense to me. Guess that tells you how many nightclubs I've been in.
What is your philosophy on life? Life is what you make of it.
On death? Death comes to us all eventually. You can't fight it; only accept it.
On virginity? A philosophy on virginity? Hmmm. Why does everyone make such a fucking big deal about it.
Which would you rather give up, TV or music? Giving up music would totally suck.
If you could only listen to 3 songs for the rest of your life what would they be? I'm so glad this is just my opinion and not written in stone. "Lover" by Michael Stanley, "I Honestly Love You" by Olivia Newton-John and "Weekend in New England" by Barry Manilow.
Would you rather have true love or a great career? It's no contest. True love is always preferrable to anything else.
What scene from a movie or TV show would you love to live? The Barbeque at Twelve Oaks in "Gone With The Wind". I'd be Scarlett O'Hara with all the beaus fighting for my attention.
Which blogger friend is most likely to lie on their taxes? I don't have blogger friends but suspect everyone lies on their taxes at least once.
Which blogger friend is least likely to get married? Again, since I don't have blogger friends I'll have to say myself. At this stage of my life, I just don't see marriage for me.
If you could put your name on any book and say you wrote it what would it be? The Bible. How fucking conceited is that?!
Would you rather be a crackhead or a midget? A midget.
Would you rather date a midget or a Nazi? A midget. I'd never meet Aryan standards.
Would you rather burn or freeze? I'd rather be cold than hot any time.
If you could beat up anyone on your list who would it be? That list is much too long to even begin to contemplate.
Would you rather be beautiful or brilliant? Beauty inevitably fades. I'll opt for brilliant.
Do you have a secret crush on anyone? Yes, as a matter of fact I do.
Are you currently leading someone on? I don't think I've ever lead anyone on.

For $1,000,000 would you . . .

Let Shaq kick you in the mouth? No!

Be locked in a cage with a bear for 1 minute? 2 minutes? 3 minutes? I might give this a try.

Chase down and bite a squirrel? I'm nowhere near fast enough to even
consider this one.

Eat a shit shake (human and animal)? Eating any type of human and/or
animal waste is fucking nasty.

Well, there you have it. My warped opinions.

Forever and a Day

2006-04-17T17:09:00.000-05:00

Shit! I haven't blogged in a month. Might be part of the reason I'm feeling outta sorts. So, the past month. Hmmmm, let's see. Pretty much the same shit as the other 11 months of the year. I work, I eat sometimes, I sleep. I ask you, how fucking lame is that??

Anyway, the past month hasn't been a total wash. My psychiatrist (did I give her an alias?) suggested I see a therapist so, like the good little girl I am, I called this woman and scheduled an appointment. I've seen her twice now and, believe it or not, she might actually end up helping.

Spring is in the air but, here on the North Coast, you know there's one more snowstorm on the way.

I've been spending a lot of time reading, crocheting and watching television. I still love my computer and living in the virtual world but I guess there comes a time when you hit a saturation point. So, I just check email and maybe troll a few sites but that's pretty much it. Although, I have become addicted to the Eagle Cam. A real-time, except at night, streaming video of an eagle couple sitting in their nest waiting for their two eggs to hatch. Sometimes I bring the sight up and just have it in the background. You can hear the eagles screech and other birds. It's very calming and I can't wait til the eggs hatch!

LP and I are still "together", whatever the hell that means, after five months. I sincerely wish we could spend more time together but he works like a fiend and is a single dad so I take what I can get. I don't have a fucking clue where this relationship is going but I guess it really doesn't matter. We talk almost every day, usually via instant messenger, but not for long. He says just thinking about me gives him a hard-on. I wish I had the effect on all men! And he tells me he thinks about me sexually all the time. He wants to be inside me; he wants to fuck every hole I have until I can't stand and I want to reciprocate. Damn! Even if he's jerking my chain, the thought of being someone's "fantasy girl" is heady (no pun intended) stuff.

Angel and I are still in contact. That fact alone says he cares but I don't think it's much more than the caring one friend has for another. I'd still love to meet him one day and I'd still love for him to make love to me but there isn't too much I can do about making that happen.

Lately, I've gotten into taking luxuriating baths. There's something very relaxing about soaking in a hot tub, with or without the whirlpool going, with just scented candles lighting the room. I feel sexy and beautiful. You know something. I haven't changed my physical appearance except for maybe losing a few pounds but it seems a sexual being I love is beginning to emerge again. And not just a sexual being, but the confident, in control woman who Angel saw almost a year ago. Kinda sucks she's doesn't stay around all the time but I do love it when she appears.

Well, I could probably ramble on for a lot longer but I'll spare you the drivel. Hope you all had a Happy Easter. With that holiday under our belts, Memorial Day can't be far behind.

Fuck!!! I had a witty end for this post and Blogger did something. Maybe I need to look into my own domain or something. Anyway, I've got a Post-It note on my monitor reminding me to blog every day no matter how mundane. Maybe the visual reminder will get me back into the grove.

The Rainbow Bridge

2006-03-27T16:43:00.000-05:00

I could spend time explaining where I've been these past few weeks but it would be boring and pointless. Instead, I need to talk about a dear friend who's crossed The Rainbow Bridge.

We've all lost pets who were our closest confidant's and companions. There's something about animals and their unconditional love that calms the human spirit. We grieve when these beloved animals are gone.

But this is not a post about an animal I interacted with on a daily basis. This post is in memory of a beautiful, owner-neglected horse who touched my heart like no other animal ever has.

When I started visiting the stables four years ago, I was (and still am) in awe of these majestic, gentle creatures. Most are well-cared for. Most owners visit daily. But, there are horses that spend 24 hours a day in cramped stalls with no sunlight, no room to romp and play but most of all, no human contact. Shifty was one such horse.

A white grade of 15 or so years, her owner never visited. Inadequate medical care caused her to crest but there was something in her gentle brown eyes that touched me. Something in her moved me to enter her stall and attempt to get to know her. I would talk to her, brush her, pet her and just be with her. Later, I brought carrots and apples for her but her favorite were peppermints.

When I entered the barn and said hello, she'd whinny for soon she came to recognize my voice as I came to recognize her hello. When I entered her stall, she'd push me against the wall and rub her face all over me. I truly believe Shifty looked forward to my visits but then I stopped visiting. As I'm not a horse owner, I felt very uncomfortable. Almost like the owners were silently questioning why I was there. Until the day I die, I will regret this.

The stables were sold six months ago to someone who's probably waiting for a rich offer for the land. He's obviously never handled horses because he doesn't live on property, has no barn manager and no stablehands. Through a friend, I learned the horses began losing weight. They were no longer turned out and their stalls were no longer being cleaned.

With tears in her eyes, this friend came to me a few weeks ago to tell me Shifty had coliced and died. I cried like I haven't cried in years. This beautiful horse, due to neglect from both her owner and the stable owner, died alone, without a friendly face or a gentle voice to guide her across The Rainbow Bridge.

I long to return to the stables for the horses are far better therapy than any psychiatrist, psychologist or therapist. They induce a calm in me that no drugs can. I think they center me and bring peace, for a while, to my racing brain.

One day, Shifty and I will meet again. She will be young and healthy. She will allow me to ride her through green pastures. Until that day, I will always remember her.

Paczki, Paczki, Everywhere!

2006-03-01T21:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Mardi Gras; a time of celebration in the French Quarter of Nawlyns. Although not as big as in previous years, it was awesome the celebration occurred despite Katrina, FEMA and the government.

For Polish Americans, Fat Tuesday is the day to indulge yourself in all manner of decadent food, especially paczki (poonch-key). From Wikipedia:

"A paczek is a deep-fried piece of dough shaped into a flattened sphere and filled with jam or another sweet filling. A traditional filling is marmalade made from fried rose buds. Fresh paczki are usually covered with powdered sugar, icing or bits of fried orange zest. Traditionally, the reason for making paczki is that all the lard, sugar, and fruit in the house would need to be used up before Lent."

Similar to jelly doughnuts, paczki are 100 times better and 100 times more fattening than any jelly doughnut you will even consume!

I'm gonna try not to get into a catechism lesson here but for those of you who aren't Catholic, Shrove Tuesday, commonly referred to as Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras), signifies the beginning of Lent, a period of fasting, penance and prayer in preparation for Easter.

Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, falls 40 days before Easter (not counting Sundays). At Masses around the world, worshippers will be blessed with ashes made from the palm leaves of the previous year's Palm Sunday celebrations and olive oil. As the sign of the cross is made on the forehead with the ash mixture, the priest will say "Remember, man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return."

The climax (for lack of a better word) of these 40 days is Holy Week which is from Palm Sunday until Holy Saturday. This important week, also called Passion Week, is when Catholics commemorate Christ's final, agonizing journey to the cross. Here's a breakdown by day:

Palm Sunday (or Passion Sunday) - commemorates the triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem that was marked by the crowds, who were in the city for Passover, waving palm fronds and proclaiming Him the messianic king.

Holy Monday - commemorates Christ's cleansing of the temple, when He assaulted money changers and overturned their tables.

Holy Tuesday - commemorates the Sermon on the Mount of Olives when Christ described to His disciples the destruction of Jerusalem.

Holy Wednesday - once called Spy Wednesday, recalls Judas Escariot's decision to betray Christ to the Sanhedrin in exchange for 30 pieces of silver.

Holy Thursday - commemorates the Last Super. After the meal, as Christ and His disciples were praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, Christ was arrested and taken to the house of Caiaphas, the High Priest of the Sanhedrin, who was responsible for the travesty of a trial to which Christ was submitted by the Jewish authorities, before they handed Him over to Pontius Pilate and stirred up the people to demand His death.

Good Friday - commemorates Christ's arrest, His trial, crucifixion and suffering, death, and burial. During Good Friday services is often when worshippers follow the Stations of the Cross.

Holy Saturday - commemorates the burial of Christ and his descent into hell.

Easter - the day of Christ's resurrection

And there you have it; how Catholics look at the next 40 days. Personally, I look forward to watching Ben-Hur for the millionth time and having Good Friday off so I can sleep. I started writing this post at 10:00 this morning and completely forgot where I was going with this so that's ... that's ... that's ... all for now folks!

Five Years Ago

2006-02-20T23:28:00.000-05:00

During the final lap of the 2001 Daytona 500, NASCAR lost one of its biggest, brightest stars.

Sitting in third place, the Intimidator, Dale Earnhardt, blocked traffic as son Dale Jr. fought leader Michael Waltrip for the checkered flag. Suddenly, but not entirely unexpected during a restrictor-plate race, the black No. 3 crashed head-on into the wall. Driver Kenny Schrader couldn't avoid the crash and plowed into the side of the Chevy then both cars slid into the infield. (For a long time afterward, Earnhardt fans would blame Sterling Marlin for the bump that caused the accident.) Schrader got out of his car but there was no movement from Earnhardt's car.

I remember watching as more and more emergency vehicles converged on the infield. It was taking too long to get Earnhardt out of the car. I remember watching Dale Jr. run to the infield care center to wait for his dad. I remember watching the ambulance speed away. Drivers, family members and fans rushed to Halifax Medical Center where they anxiously waited for word on Earnhardt's condition. Then, the unthinkable.

"Undoubtedly this is one of the toughest announcements I've personally had to make," NASCAR president Mike Helton said later, once the news was official. "After the accident in Turn 4 at the end of the Daytona 500, we've lost Dale Earnhardt."

A basal skull fracture killed the 7-time Winston Cup champion instantly. Dale Earnhardt died doing what he loved -- racing.

Hearing those words took me back to 1996 when my family and I were sitting in a hospital family room waiting for word on Dad's condition only to learn he was dead.

For a long time after Dad died, I couldn't watch NASCAR because stock cars were "our" special thing. Every Sunday, he and I would watch whatever race was on, usually cheering for Earnhardt. Losing the Intimidator was like losing Dad all over again and it hurt. Damn it, it hurt like hell!

I've since gotten back "into" racin' and look forward to Daytona every year. Why? Daytona signals the impending arrival of spring. Football season is over. Baseball season hasn't started yet but those stock cars are once again making a constant left-hand turn on blacktops across the country.

I'm really a rather simple woman with simple wants and needs. A good cup of coffee. A cigarette. A good race. I'm as happy as a pig in shit when all is right in my world.

Boogity, Boogity, Boogity -- this weekend's California Speedway.

Valentine's Day

2006-02-14T11:39:00.000-05:00

Not a "real" holiday but a commercial ploy to make singles feel completely inadequate, alone and worthless.

Just remember, large quantities of chocolate give you the exact same high being in love does. And, chocolate doesn't care what you or the living room looks like; chocolate doesn't care if you watch chick flicks; chocolate will never argue with you; but most of all, chocolate will never abandon you.

So, to the lovers, the dreamers and me ... Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy February!

2006-02-01T20:26:00.000-05:00

I hate business meetings. And, the absolute worst meetings are the ones scheduled first thing in the morning or the ones schedule at the end of the day.

So, this morning, I was greeted with the sinking reality of a three-hour meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with me or my job. After the first hour, all I heard was "blah, blah, blah, blah, blah".

As the second hour began, the inane questions started. I hate to admit this but these people are talking so far over my head, I feel like a two-year-old at a mensa meeting. Occasionally, a word I know or have heard during my 20 years in the financial business popped up but how these words related to the subject at hand (which I was failing to comprehend at all) is beyond me.

I'm a simple number cruncher. More accurately, when push comes to shove, I'm an information processor. I maintain, improve and manipulate database information. Need a mailing list? I've got it. Need a trend report? I've got it. Need to know which state produces the most business? I've got that too. In other words, I can give you just about anything you want in any format you want.

The other thing I'm quite excellent at is producing the information in a professional, readable format. Whether a spreadsheet or a document or a presentation, you will receive an accurate, visually balanced product. Now, this is not to say I'm some sort of fucking artist. Far from it. I'm saying I have this innate ability to look at something and know what it needs to make it "pretty".

When I'm not cranking out killer documents, I'm "training" someone how to use an application. It makes me fucking crazy when I get a desperate plea for help because your headers and footers won't work. How the fuck long have computers been part of our lives? How can you not know basic word processing? The bitch of it all is I hear from the same people over and over and over again with the same fucking questions over and over and over again. Exactly how many times and in how many fucking languages do I need to tell you something before it sinks in, huh?

The most shocking thing I'm getting out of this damned meeting is that I'm in desperate need of an eye exam. Sitting probably 50 feet from an 8 foot by 8 foot projection screen, I can't read the presentation to save my life. Squinting helped a little but the halos and blurriness are very worrisome. The thought of losing my sight scares the hell outta me. I can't even get my mind around the thought of being blind. I already wear goddamned bifocals. How much longer before the white cane and the guide dog? And I'm not even talking Stevie Wonder blind. I'm talking blind where I can only see light and dark and maybe fuzzy shapes.

Anyway, as hour three approaches, my mind is so not on whatever it is the speaker's flapping his lips about. Instead, I'm thinking about the emails and voicemails waiting for my return. I'm thinking about how badly I need a cup of coffee (which I left on my desk). I'm thinking about how badly I need a smoke. And, weaving itself through all this crap is LP. Yes, LP.

What can I say about him? Hearing his voice sends a jolt of electricity straight to my pussy. Seeing him makes my nipples hard and my pussy wet. We've kissed and done some heavy petting and, yes, we've even had "lewinsky" sex once but we haven't slept together ... yet. I want to feel his weight on me as he pushes his cock into me. I want to feel his balls hitting my ass as he saws in and out of me. I want to feel his mouth torturing my nipples as I grab his sexy ass and pull his cock deeper inside me. I want to ride him long and hard. And just as we're both ready to explode, I want to take his cock in my mouth and taste myself on him. I want to hear him moan as I begin to suck him dry. I want to feel his hands in my hair as he pulls my head tighter to him, shoving his cock deep into my mouth. I want his heavy ballsac in my mouth, my tongue playing with his balls, my lips sucking the sensitive skin. I want to hear him tell me how good I am at giving him head. Then, I want him to come in my mouth. I want to taste his seed and swallow it without thinking. Damn, I'm such a slut!

Now, I'm sure you're asking what happened to Angel? Well, nothing happened. He's a dear friend whom I'll always love. He's the man who held a mirror up to my face and made me see the real me. He's the man who continues to give me hope. He's the man who still finds me beautiful and sexy. He's the man who is married to his career and doesn't have the time needed to nurture a relationship. I thought he'd abandoned me but I realize he's always been here, protecting me and guiding me and yes, maybe even loving me but the grand romance I foolishly saw happening between us didn't.

Please don't misconstrue that. I would rather have Angel in my life as a friend and confidante than not at all. He has done more for my psychological, emotional and physical well-being than any other person. He doesn't judge me. He accepts me, lumps and all. I think the physical distance between us has been a major hindrance but, ultimately, his commitment to his career is much bigger. And I finally realized, it's not personal. Angel hasn't rejected me. Funny thing is, he's the one who finally made me realize I deserve to be number one and not number two. Ironic, ain't it? (Sorry, sweetie. That's how I feel but I suspect you know that.)

Well, I've got to eat something and get to bed early. I'm still feeling under the weather and exhausted. At least it's Wednesday. Only two more days until the weekend.

Just Checking In

2006-01-30T19:51:00.000-05:00

I hate winter. The weather here on the North Coast has been insane. Spring-like one day, wintry the next. Needless to say, colds and flu run rampant and I've been struck down with a doozy of a cold. I haven't felt human in over a week. I've missed a handful of days of work. I'm miserable. I've been snorting salt and baking soda water until I feel like I'm drowning. I've drunk gallons of orange juice and I've tried to get some rest but it's difficult.

Okay, I'm a smoker so that certainly doesn't help. But the sinus congestion and headache is going to kill me. The salt water helps some as does the vaporizer but when will it end. When will all this snot get out of my head. When will I be myself again?

I've watched a lot of television lately because I can't stand looking at the computer screen. I've tried to read but it just hurts my head too much. I'm bored to tears but too tired and miserable to do anything about it.

Yeah, I'm whining but nobody seems to give a rat's ass. Maybe one of my readers will. Not that you'll bring me chicken soup or anything but a kind thought would be nice.

Hollywood ... What Were You Thinking?

2006-01-18T23:15:00.000-05:00

I'll admit it. I love movies but usually wait until they're on DVD or television before seeing them. So, this past weekend I finally got to see Red Dragon, the prequel to The Silence of the Lambs. As I watched the film, something nagged at the back of my mind. "I've seen this and heard this before," but I couldn't remember where. Then it dawned on me. This is a remake of Michael Mann's 1986 Manhunter. And not just a simple remake; an almost verbatim remake. From then on, I looked at the movie with a critical eye, drawing comparisons in characters and storyline from memory. Naturally, I had to rent Manhunter and boy, is the original head and shoulders above the remake. All you have to do is look at the casting.

Edward Norton doesn't do anything for me. He's a wonderful actor but lacked the intensity necessary to portray retired FBI agent Will Graham effectively. Conversely, William Petersen was brilliant as the tormented agent. Petersen's Graham took you with him as he got into the Tooth Fairy's head. You felt his anguish at having to face Lecter again. You felt his fear as his family was targeted. He showed the toll profiling takes on the profiler. Norton's Graham was wishy-washy, almost timid, very lackluster and uninspired.

Tough guy Dennis Farina did an admirable job as Jack Crawford. Gritty and from the streets, he had an edge that Harvey Keitel's Crawford lacked. You could tell Farina's Crawford really had a difficult time deciding to ask Graham for help. You could see he didn't want to re-open his friend's old wounds, both psychological and physical. I didn't feel that from Keitel's Crawford.

Character actor Tom Noonan was simply unforgettable as Francis Dollarhyde, the deranged serial killer. His appearance gave you the willies. His voice stuck in your head. Basically, he scared the shit out of me. Ralph (it's Rafe not Ralph) Fiennes is a brilliant actor, no question about it but there was no passion in his Dolarhyde. He didn't turn into the character. He didn't scare you senseless.

Joan Allen's portrayal of Reba McClane was lightyears ahead of Emily Watson's McClane.

Stephen Lang's Freddy Lounds was definitely a slimy tabloid reporter. Philip Seymour Hoffman's Lounds was too likeable, too boyish. You didn't loathe him like you did Lang's Lounds.

Finally, although Red Dragon and Manhunter aren't about Dr. Hannibal Lector, he was integral to the storyline. Sir Anthony Hopkins IS Lector, no ifs, ands or buts. He's brilliant as the psychiatrist gone mad. Brian Cox's Lecktor just doesn't make the cut.

Mann's directing was artsy and edgy while Brett Ratner's direction was almost pastoral by comparison. Both screenplays were based on Thomas Harris' novel Red Dragon but I was amazed at how the exact dialog could be heard in both movies.

Both were good movies but I'd recommend Manhunter to anyone looking for a real psychological thriller.

Of course, that's just my opinion ... I could be wrong!

Happy New Year!

2006-01-09T17:56:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I'm nine days late but it's the thought that counts. I'm sure you're all rushing to see what I've posted but I only changed the banner. After searching high and low, I think I've finally found the perfect image.

I've been restless lately; itching to write but there never seems to be enough hours in the day. I need to get some discipline and write something, anything, every day. Please, don't hold me to that but I'll try.

Just Another New Year's Eve

2005-12-31T00:23:00.000-05:00

Well, here we are; at the end of the old year, on the verge of the new one. Invariably, we tend to look at the year about to pass and remember all that happened.

The War in Iraq ground on, Hurricane Katrina's death and destruction, Discovery's return to space, continued terrorist attacks around the world, the outbreak of bird flu, the debate over euthanasia, finally learning the identity of Watergate informant Deep Throat, Israeli pull-out of the Gaza Strip, the devastating tsunami in Sumatra, skyrocketing gas prices, computer hackers ran rampant, Harry Potter, Star Wars and Lord of the Rings mania swept the world, Lance Armstrong's seventh straight Tour de France victory, Danica Patrick became the first woman to lead at least one lap during the Indy 500, and, of course, the passings of beloved celebrities Johnny Carson, Arthur Miller, John Paul II, Anne Bancroft, Luther Vandross, Barbara Bel Geddes, Rosa Parks, Pat Morita, Richard Pryor, Peter Jennings, Chief Justice William Rehnquist, Rosemary Kennedy, Ossie Davis, Max Schmeling, Sister Lucia Santos, Sandra Dee, Chris LeDoux, Johnny Cochran, Prince Ranier, Frank Gorshin, James Doohan, Bob Denver, to mention just a few.

At a personal level, 2005 was a year of growth for me. With Angel's help, I learned I AM beautiful and sexy and desired by men and women. I can be sexy without being a slut. I'm worthy of love. And I am my own worst enemy. I discovered guilt I've been carrying around for years was never mine to carry. I realized I'm not responsible for anyone but myself. I believe I've had a glimpse of love; I may have even felt love. LP's unexpected contact in October showed me I am memorable to those I encounter in life.

I know I've grossly neglected this blog but I make no apologies. If you read from beginning to now, you will see the changes. Blogging is not about shocking the reader. Blogging, for me, is about sharing that which I cannot share with anyone else. To the best of my knowledge, I remain completely anonymous to family and that's a good thing. This blog is my journey through the dark secrets I keep even from myself.

So, as we say goodbye to 2005 and hello to 2006, I wish you all a safe, happy and prosperous New Year. I look forward to what the new year will bring and look forward to sharing it with my readers.

Season's Greetings

2005-12-26T13:35:00.000-05:00

It's the day after Christmas. No, I'm not gonna write some sappy, rhyming poem. I just want to wish readers and fellow bloggers a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Ramadan and whatever other secular celebrations I've missed. I would also like to wish you all a happy, safe and prosperous 2006.

God bless all the troops dispatched throughout the world keeping the peace in an otherwise chaotic world. May you come home to your families and friends sooner rather than later.

Hypocritical? Probably

2005-12-19T22:01:00.000-05:00

I love meat and poultry and dairy and all the things that are bad for you. I know where the food I see in the market comes from. I know animals are sacrificed so I can fill my gut. Despite this, I'm vehemently against animal cruelty. I want to see the slaughter of horses outlawed. I want to see all shelters become no-kill facilities. I want pet owners to spay and neuter their pets.

This post was prompted by something I read about PETA. I've never supported this group of extremists and now I know why. Visit PetaKillsAnimals.com. I know every organization puts their own spin on whatever they are supporting but this site was just too shocking for me. PETA actually KILLS companion animals. I didn't even know they had a shelter. I just thought they were celebrities bringing cruelty to light. WRONG!!! Visit the site and see for yourself.

I understand why animals are used for medical research but there's got to be a way to do this vital research humanely. I've seen the undercover videos and they've sickened me. I've seen the puppy mill videos and the mink farm videos and the premarin videos and the circus videos. How can human beings treat animals in this way.

I love animals. They were on this planet long before we were and we as a people treat them like so much garbage. Abandoned cats and dogs. Starved horses and cows. Overcrowded, filthy stalls and cages. I just don't get it.

I have no clue where this post is going; it's all over the place. I guess I just needed to vent a little. More later.

So Sue Me

2005-12-16T13:19:00.000-05:00

In case you haven't noticed, I've been neglecting this blog big time. Part of it is due to the holidays. I hate the fucking holidays and turn more anti-social than I already am. The other part is self-censorship. There's a lot I want to write about; isn't there always but I don't want to commit things here that might come back to bite me in the ass. I've yet again played with the idea of renaming and moving MC but I'm just not up for that kind of headache.

I should probably do some sort of year-end wrap-up. As I've read the archives, characters who used to appear on a regular basis have fallen by the wayside. I'm sure inquiring minds want to know what's happened to them, right? Most notably would probably be BG and Angel.

So, let me do some serious thinking. I need to figure out where I want to go from here and if I want to keep MC alive.

Infamy

2005-12-08T22:01:00.000-05:00

I fucking hate winter. Snow is slamming the North Coast. I'm sure a lot of people, especially kids, find the white stuff synonymous with Christmas. I see it as a nuisance and dangerous.

December not only brings frigid temperatures, tons of snow, crowded stores and the holiday rush, it also reminds us of some very historical events.

December 1, 1955 - Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat on a bus igniting the Civil Rights Movement.

December 2, 1982 - The first artificial heart is successfully transplanted into patient Barney Clark.

December 4, 1993 - Prostrate cancer claims the life of Frank Zappa.

December 5, 1933 - National Prohibition ends.

December 7, 1941 - The Japanese launch a surprise attack against the US just about decimating the Pacific Fleet.

December 8, 1980 - Musician John Lennon is gunned down outside his Manhattan apartment.

December 13, 1961 - Artist Grandma Moses dies.

December 14, 1799 - President George Washington dies at Mount Vernon.

December 15, 1966 - Walt Disney dies.

December 17, 1903 - Near Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Orville and Wilbur Wright finally succeed at the first manned powered flight.

December 21, 1620 - The Mayflower lands at Plymouth, Massachusetts.

December 25, AD 336 - Rome celebrates the first recorded Christmas.

December 26, 1991 - The Soviet Union begins to fall.

December 28, 2004 - Law and Order star Jerry Orbach dies.

December 30, 1922 - Lenin establishes the USSR.

December 31, 1946 - The official end of WWII.

There you have it. Some completely useless trivia for you.

Things that Make You Go Hmmmm

2005-11-29T14:22:00.000-05:00

Hope you all had a safe and Happy Thanksgiving. For the first time in years, it was quiet here.

This post will be short but this episode has to be memorialized. Bro1 called for computer help, as usual. After his problem was remedied, I asked him if there was anything else he needed.

"Yeah, I need to ask you about something."

"Ask away."

"On Sunday, I noticed a diamond ring on your left hand. Did you get engaged?"

It was hard for me to control my laughter.

"No, Bro1. I've been wearing this for over a year. I know no man will ever put a diamond on that finger so I put it there myself."

His relief was almost palpable.

Swinging 101

2005-11-22T17:44:00.000-05:00

In my post of 23 May 2005, I told you of my decision to experiment with swinging. I joined AFF in June and since then, have had over 15,000 profile previews and received over 200 emails asking to meet me. I've watched men jack-off and couples fuck. I've cammed, one on one, with a few men but haven't taken the next step -- meeting someone in person. I don't know if I ever will take that step but, apparently, I'm not as unmarketable as I thought. Full-figured, Rubenesque, voluptuous women, such as myself, are in greater demand than I ever imagined. And the guys aren't all middle-aged, beer-bellied pigs. I'm talking absolutely gorgeous, fit, buff men looking at my profile and getting hard. Stroking beautiful, hard cocks while talking to me or watching me on cam. Of course, a lot of my appeal, IMHO, is my personality and sense of humor. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm like no other woman any man (or woman) will ever meet. Like Gillette, I'm the best a man can get and, if they don't want me, it's their loss, not mine!

So, as I'm channel surfing last night, "The Secret World of Swingers" on vh1 caught my eye. Naturally, surfing stopped instantly and I settled in for a "real" look at the lifestyle. The documentary profiled the organizer of swing parties in New York, a veteran swing couple, a newbie swing couple and a small town swing couple. I was enthralled watching these men and women prepare to attend a party or, in the case of the small town couple, prepare for a date with a prospective couple. Except for the newbie couple man (who later broke up with his girlfriend), there were no inhibitions, no hesitation and almost no awkwardness. These people know who they are and aren't afraid to show it. They also aren't willing to ignore who they are just because society as a whole doesn't look favorably on the lifestyle.

For the most part, swing parties are underground and usually require an invitation. Couples pay upwards of 100 bucks to attend but, decked out in their most erotic, exotic outfits, cash changes hands and the fun begins. As I've never attended a swing party, but secretly would love to at least once, I can only speak from what was reported. The first few hours are spent just hanging out, scoping out the scene and basically the time to determine if you're in the right place; if this is what you really want. I didn't get the impression non-participants were shunned or treated any differently than the seasoned veterans. In fact, the party organizer circulates making sure everyone is comfortable and readily answers any questions posed him/her.

As the night draws on, couples pair up for genuine partner swapping or other varieties of couplings. I saw quite a few condoms being used, which is only prudent when you engage in sex with a stranger. I saw men and women fulfilling fantasies or enjoying sex the way they want without the fear for rejection or ridicule. The female part of the newbie couple was anxious to couple with someone but her boyfriend was repulsed at the thought of her with another man, or woman for that matter. They left the party but once home, he could tell he was the last person she wanted to be with that night. Hey, at least she found out they weren't compatible before she had too much invested in the relationship.

On the whole, swinging does not break up couples but brings them closer together. The cardinal, unwritten rule is you should be in a stable, loving relationship with your primary partner before even thinking about swinging. If you think the lifestyle will fix a troubled relationship, you're wrong. Unless you and your partner are comfortable talking about boundaries and expectations when playing, it won't work. Both people should have the same expectations and know, at the end of the night, they will be going home together, more in love with each other than they were at the beginning of the night.

I was quite aroused by the end of the show as wicked thoughts of LP and Angel danced through my mind. Images of the three of us in a group sex session made me horny. My pussy began to quiver and my juices began to flow as I imaged them fucking my ass and pussy at the same time. My breathing got heavy at the thought of both of them cumming all over my face. But, as sure as I'm sitting here, I know there's no way any of these fantasies will come true. I'm not even sure I'd want them to come true.

However, in this heightened sexual state, I didn't do anything about it. I crawled into bed with an ache between my legs and never touched myself once. I longed to finger my pussy and rub my clit. I longed to shove a dildo deep into my pussy and ride it until I was exhausted but I didn't. Why? Because I'm more than a little afraid to touch myself. An unobjective bystander watched one of my masturbation videos and asked me why I'm sexually abusing myself. Sexual self-abuse? What the fuck is that? Okay, so I like a little pain. I like having my pussy and ass full at the same time. I like rubbing my clit raw until my mind and body explode in a massive orgasm. Other than the intense veracity, I don't see the self-abuse but the statement scared the living shit out of me. Consequently, no masturbation until I can figure out where the fuck my head is.

As an almost funny side note to this post, the message boards on vh1 mentioned Grego, the featured party-giver, has, since shooting the documentary, changed his views on swinging and sex in general. I visited his website, more out of curiosity than anything else, and was shocked as I read what he has to say. First, let me unequivocally state I have accepted Jesus Christ as my Saviour and when He is not walking with me, He carries me. I believe with all my heart, despite my sins (venial or cardinal), our Lord and Father loves me for He made me in His image.

Having said that, morally, I don't have a problem with sex whether heterosexual or homosexual, monogamous or casual. What two or more consenting adults do in private is no one's business but their own. Disgusting and totally reprehensible sex, in my mind, is incest, pedophilia and zoophilia. Predators such as these should be castrated and forced to eat their own cocks. So, when a former "sex worker" suddenly starts invoking the name of God in a triad about the godlessness of excessive sex, I have a problem. Read your Bible. Read the history of ancient Rome and Greece. Sex in all forms was accepted and, as in the case of royalty, expected. In Great Britain, Scotland and Wales, babies were betrothed to each other barely weeks old and, without hesitation, fulfilled the contact as tradition demanded.

The 21st Century is no more godless or immoral sexually then during the times of our ancestors. If anything, especially in the US, we are so damned sexually repressed, I'm amazed the population is increasing. I get very hot under the collar when the "Moral Majority" sit atop its imagery mountain and tells me what I can and can't do in the bedroom; what I can and can't see on television; what I can and can't listen to on the radio; what I can and can't read. Yes, children should be protected from the explicit sexual nature of these things but that responsibility falls to the parents -- not the fucking government. Parents need to decide what is right for their children. Hell, by age three, I knew where babies come from while an older cousin swore up one side and down the other, the stork is where babies come from.

Your values, morals, etc. are formed when you're a child. If the wrong message is sent, there is no one to blame but those who raised you. Don't blame sex for your failure.

This post seems to be all over the place but all I want to say on this subject is running through my head a lightening speed. So, in the immortal words of Dennis Miller, "Of course, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong."

Recollections

2005-11-07T14:34:00.000-05:00

First, thank you all for the warm birthday wishes. This year is definitely a year I will remember for a long time to come.

LP and I did get together for lunch. He's definitely matured and turned for the bad boy into a grown man. He's more handsome, if that's possible, and, yes, my palms got sweaty, my knees got weak and butterflies infiltrated my stomach as he hugged me. I most definitely want to get to know this man better.

Since LP's reappearance in my life, I thought back to my 20-year high school reunion in July, 2003. As everyone was re-connecting, I sat at a table in the back of the room writing.

It seems as though time has stood still. The cliques fell back into place as though we saw each other just yesterday. Hair has been lost, waists have thickened but we, for the most part, looked like older, maturer forms of our 18-year-old selves. Old tensions have faded. New friendships have been formed. It seems the more things change, the more they stay the same.

A lot of couples are pushing 20 years or more together with multiple offspring. Some saddled spouses with children to attend alone. I'm sure old flames were rekindled and new flames were ignited. Mr. Peabody and Sherman landed the Wayback Machine smack dab in the heart of the early 80s. Everyone appears happy and successful and genuinely glad to see each other again.

Meanwhile, this writer sits quietly in the back of the room, sipping coffee and observing, feeling no more comfortable with this group of strangers than she did 20 years ago. Accolades for a wonderful affair abound but fall on an empty heart. The words are sincere enough but don't appear to come from the heart.

"Call mes" and "Lets keep in touch" fill the air but everyone knows after tonight it will be another 10 years before we see each other again. I'm sure spouses and significant others were bored stiff as we caught up with each other and the goings-on in our individual lives since graduation. Pictures were flashed as proud parents bragged about amazing children and just to remind us hearing aids aren't too far in the future, the music grew louder as the night drew on. Too many of us are smoking and drinking. And yes, some of us are still painfully anti-social.

But wait a minute, a second glance reveals how painfully nauseating this whole godforsaken affair really is. It's still trying to keep up with the Joneses. Who has the better job, the better spouse, the better children, the better house, the better portfolio. This writer can almost hear the conversations in cars on the way home.

I truly believe smiles were pasted on aging faces. Exclamations of joy at seeing each other again were almost obligatory. Handshakes among the guys, hugs and air kisses among the girls. Guys gathered at the bar. Girls crowded the dance floor. Just how old are we again? How long ago was high school? Aren't we supposed to be responsible adults now?

Life's too damn short to be taken seriously. We need to get over ourselves already and realize we are not the center of the universe. The world does not revolve around us. We're merely along for the ride.

That triad might be cynical but it's what I saw that night and how I felt that night. Of course, being there alone didn't help the melancholy I felt. Having old friends unintentionally rub their love lives and successes in my face sucks but I'm used to it. I've let them do it my entire life. When will I wake up and realize I'm just as good if not better than the lot of them? When will I wake up and realize I have just as much if not more to offer society? When will I stop caring what they think of me? When will I grow up?

Blast from the Past

2005-10-31T11:08:00.000-05:00

Eighth grade was 25 years ago. I don't remember much of those pre-high school years but do remember my first crush and subsequent heartbreak. So, imagine my surprise when, out of the blue, he sends me an email. I've thought about LP on and off since then but never knew what happened to him and now, here he is writing me and telling me things I never knew or even suspected.

Here's a bit of the backstory so you're not totally confused. LP was the quintessential bad boy and I was smitten. I think we might have had a math class together which was probably the only time during the course of a school day I saw him. I knew I had a snowball's chance in hell with him but I figured I'd try anyway. He was "going with" one of the "beautiful" people and only thought of me as a friend. After I recovered from the rejection, I chalked it up to a life experience and moved on.

I'm shocked LP remembers me let alone wants to get in touch with me. His emails are full of revelations and all the emotions I felt then have come rushing back. As for the mind-blowing revelations, he says not a day has gone by that I haven't crossed his mind. He's spent years fantasizing about me and loves full-figured, curvaceous women. Sounds like I might have had some influence on his women of preference.

I've spent most of the morning on the phone with him and want nothing more than to see him after all these years. Unfortunately, today there's an appointment with the dentist I can't blow off and, of course, it's Halloween when I traditionally go to Mom's and give out candy. Don't ask me how that started but who am I to argue with tradition?

Hopefully, lunch (or maybe dinner) will happen later this week. Talk about an incredible birthday present! Will anything happen? I don't know. Will anything come of this? I don't know that either. It just does my heart, not to mention my ego, good to know a man from my past, whom I never had a relationship with, wants to re-connect with me. How many women can say that? Probably a lot but this is a first for yours truly.

Have a Happy Halloween and be careful out there.

A Letter

2005-10-23T11:15:00.000-05:00

Dear Daddy,

On this Christmas Eve, I kneel at the foot of your grave and remember sitting at your knee, captivated by the wonder of you. You were Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy all rolled into one. But you were more than that. You were a god to me. You always had a reassuring word when I doubted myself, a strong shoulder when I needed to cry and a willing ear when I needed to yell. You always had faith in me especially when I lacked it in myself.

Now, a harsh wind and bitter snow blow across the land where you have been laid to rest. Of all the places I picture you, here is not among them. I thought you would live forever, that you would always be here for me. I guess that's the little girl in me talking, the one who idolized you, hung on your every word and worshipped the ground you walked on. And yet, I can't help wondering if I was the kind of daughter you could be proud of. Was I everything you hoped for in a child? Did I live up to your expectations? Or, was I an abysmal disappointment? I hope that in some small way I may have brought joy and happiness to your life.

For the rest of my days, I will miss you with every fiber of my being -- I will miss the mentor, the friend, the confidant, but most of all, I'll miss my dad.

Merry Christmas, Daddy. I love you with all my heart.

Your little girl.

This was written in 1996, two months after my dad died. I carefully folded it and tucked it between his headstone and the frozen ground. Come spring, the letter was still there so I retrieved and kept it. On this, the tenth anniversary of his passing, I'm sharing it with you.

Blog Update

2005-10-16T13:33:00.000-05:00

It seems when I update this thing, a million people rush to read whatever crap has spewed from my brain. Well, I've been making layout changes. There's a lot more to come. I'm not happy with the color scheme, the header graphic needs to be changed as does the background and other stuff that's been making me insane.

As I mentioned before, there are about five posts needing completion and I'll get off my fat ass hopefully sooner rather than later.

Thanks for your patience.

The Bibliophile In Me

2005-10-13T19:47:00.000-05:00

I'm still feeling the need to write but my thoughts and emotions remain chaotic, confusing and muddled. Instead of trying to tackle something I don't understand, I thought it would be fun to share my lifelong love affair with books.

For as long as I can remember, books have been my salvation. Exactly when I started to read is kinda hazy but, developmentally, kids usually recognize words around 4 or 5. One book that stands out from childhood is Crockett Johnson's Harold and the Purple Crayon. I truly believe this is where my love for the color purple started. Here's this little kid running around in his jammies, if I'm not mistaken, who creates a world all his own with only his purple crayon.

I know I read all the classics of childhood but I could be wrong. One thing I know for sure is, then as now, books can whisk you away to places and times you've only dreamt of. You can lose yourself in a book but it's not wasted time. Not only do books actually increase your vocabulary, they keep your mind active and your imagination fueled.

It's commonplace to see me with a book of some sort no matter where I am. There's always one handy because you never know when you'll have some time to kill. On the train ride to work, at lunch, waiting for your network guys to fix your computer and various other life delays are ideal for a few brief moments out of yourself. Personally, I usually identify with the heroine, seeing the story through her eyes, feeling what she's feeling, almost becoming her. I know that sounds weird but fantasy and imagination are the stuff of dreams. Just imagine going from a dull and mundane nine to five job to being courted by handsome princes.

Contrary to what's been written before, I am NOT a lemming. Neither am I trendy. I don't read girlie books - no Harlequin Romances for me. Do you remember in the 70s how certain books were the "rave" -- everyone wanted to read them but your parents wouldn't let you? Books like Wifey and Forever by Judy Blume. Whether it was because of my liberal parents or my thirst for knowledge or just because I had to rebel, I read those books, and others, that eventually gave me the coveted title of "Smut Queen." If there was a book you weren't supposed to read, I owned it and read it. And since I owned them, I became the "source" for this illicit material. I must have gone through a hundred copies of Wifey during the 7th grade alone!

Here I was, at the tender age of 13, reading the likes of Jackie Collins and Judith Krantz. I remember once, in 8th grade, reading Scruples in study hall. Hell, I didn't have homework so I might as well expand my mind in other ways, right! Anyway, I'm engrossed in a sexually explicit passage when I "feel" someone behind me. Sure enough, my handsome science teacher was reading over my shoulder. Boy, was his face red as I smiled at him and continued reading!

As I sat down to write this post, I've come to the conclusion there is a band of writers I've stuck with through the years. When I'm looking for a new author, my method is quite unusual -- if the cover art appeals to me, I'll give it a try. You wouldn't believe the wonderful treasures I've discovered using this method. So, without further ado, here is the list of authors, in alphabetical order, I read and reread, with book titles and my two cents. If the author has a website, there is a link.

(R) = real name

Amiel, Joseph - The first book of Mr. Amiel's I read was Birthright as it deals with the banking industry of which I'm a part. Most of his work is out of print now but well worth a read if you can find them.

Auel, Jean M. - Creator of the Earth's Children series - Clan of the Cave Bear, Valley of the Horses, Mammoth Hunters, Plains of Passage and The Shelters of Stone. This is an excellent series of one woman's journey to find her people.

Collins, Jackie - Publishing a plethora of books filled with intrigue, sex and Hollywood, Miss Collins' most endearing character is Lucky Santangelo, daughter of one-time Mafioso Gino Santangelo. Lucky's story began with Chances. And, although I love all Miss Collins' books, the Lucky Saga is by far my favorite. Chances, Lady Boss, Lucky, Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge, Dangerous Kiss: A Lucky Santangelo Novel. The heroine, Lucky Santangelo, is perfection; I think every woman has a little of Lucky in them!

Cussler, Clive - Mr. Cussler is the master of the action adventure novel. His hero, Dirk Pitt, is kinda like James Bond but much cooler. Once you read a Pitt novel, you too will look forward to his next adventure.

Gage, Elizabeth - What can you say about this wonderful author? Ms. Gage writes with a passion that draws the reader in and leaves them begging for more. The title A Glimpse of Stocking prompted me to pick up the book and I haven't put any down since!

Harvey, Kathryn (aka Barbara Wood (R)) - Butterfly was one of those "fad" books, you know the books that all your friends are reading. I usually don't follow what everyone else is doing but I'm glad I did in this instance.

King, Stephen (R) (aka Richard Bachman) - simply the Master of Horror.

Kingsley, Johanna - Scents, Faces, Treasures, Loving Touches - This was another case of the title of the book caught my attention. I wish she would write more!

Koontz, Dean - Personally, I prefer Koontz books to King's books. They're more intellectual and although they'll scare the shit out of you, there's always a logical explanation for the horror at the end.

Korda, Michael - This author was a fluke. Queenie was taking the world by storm and I jumped on the bandwagon.

Krantz, Judith - Ms. Krantz's books were a "no-no" so, of course, I had to read them! Powerful, sexy and just plain fantasy reading. I eagerly look forward to each new release.

Mayleas, Davidyne Saxon - Browsing through a used bookstore, a very plain book cover caught my attention. Navy blue with gold lettering, A Man of Property, sounded interesting so I bought it. Talk about mind-blowing. Ms. Mayleas is a wonderful author with lots of steamy sex!

Michaels, Fern (R) (aka Iris Summers) - Ms. Michaels is a romance writer, of which I am not a huge fan. The first book of hers I read was Panda Bear is Critical, an excellent book about a kidnapped child. I really enjoy her sagas: The Coleman Saga (Texas Rich, Texas Heat, Texas Fury, Texas Sunrise), The Sins Series (Sins of Omission and Sins of the Flesh) and The Thornton Saga (Vegas Rich, Vegas Heat and Vegas Sunrise) and The Kentucky Saga (Kentucky Rich, Kentucky Heat and Kentucky Sunrise) are the best!

Mortman, Doris - By far, Ms. Mortman's books have changed my life the most. After reading The Wild Rose, about a Hungarian pianist, I was prompted me to start researching my family tree. Each of her following books never disappoint.

Patterson, Richard North - Mr. Patterson's Private Screening caught my attention and I was hooked. Always good for an intensive read!

Robbins, Harold - Quite simply, the Master!

Rosenberg, Nancy Taylor - If you like Grisham and Martini, you'll love Rosenberg - law and order from a woman's viewpoint.

Rule, Ann - The best true crime author of our time. Ms. Rule's unbelievable ability to get into the minds of these horrific people makes her a treasure!

Sheldon, Sidney - I've read Sheldon for as long as I can remember. The pretty red ribbon around the woman's neck on the cover of Bloodline prompted me to pick up the book which I finished in a day. Although his recent tomes have been somewhat disappointing to me, I still love reading him!

Small, Bertrice - Over 22 historical romances, I simply love her O'Malley Saga. Skye O'Malley, the matriarch of the O'Malley clan, is the epitome of the modern woman in Elizabethan England. Headstrong, passionate, determined, career and family minded, she and her family become a part of your life.

Smith, Deborah (R) (aka Jackie Leigh, Jacqueline Lennox) - Ms. Smith's books are another case of a title and book cover intrigued me and now I'm a fan. Blue Willow was the first of her books I read and truly fell in love with.

NEW AUTHORS TO ENTER THE FOLD

Breton, Laurie
Cresswell, Jasmine (R) (aka Jasmine Craig)
Crichton, Michael (R) (aka Jeffrey Hudson, John Lange)
Gabaldon, Diana - Creator of the Outlander series
Gardner, Lisa (aka Alicia Scott, Lisa Baumgartner (R))
Golden, Christopher - Creator of the Shadow Saga
Graham, Heather (R) (aka Shannon Drake, Heather Graham Pozzessere)
Hunter, Gwen (R) (aka Gary Hunter)
Kava, Alex - Creator of FBI Special Agent Maggie O'Dell
Kleypas, Lisa
Moning, Karen Marie - Creator of the Highlander series
Neggers, Carla (R) (aka Anne Harrell, Amelia James)
Quinn, Tara Taylor
Rice, Anne (R) (aka Anne Rampling, A. N. Roquelaure) - Be sure to read the Sleeping Beauty series
Sala, Sharon (aka Dinah McCall (R))
Shayne, Maggie - Creator of the Twilight series
Spindler, Erica
Van Wormer, Laura
Woods, Stuart - Creator of Stone Barrington

Although I've mentioned a lot of wonderful books above, by far, my all-time favorite is Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind. I first read GWTW in high school and have since read it at least once a year. I guess as we age, our perceptions change because with each read, I find something new in this epic novel.
If you're looking for any of these books, check Amazon.com or any of the wonderful online bookstores including A Mystical Unicorn. Another wonderful place to search for rare and used books is Bibliofind, who has combined with Amazon to become the world's No. 1 online bookstore.

You're Not Crazy

2005-10-11T23:30:00.000-05:00

Yes, there was a post here for yesterday. However, after reading it over and over and over and receiving constructive feedback from someone whose opinion I trust, I've turned it back into a draft. I don't know if the post will see the light of day but I do know it's too dark, even for me.

I've got about five posts in the bullpen warming up. Now is the time to get off my ass and finish them and then start the template redesign. Maybe I can turn the negative positive after all.

Still Above Ground

2005-09-29T23:14:00.000-05:00

Yes, I'm still among the living, just lacking the imagination to write. So, bear with me while I get my head screwed on straight, keep watching for a template redesign and enjoy "The Meme of Threes" I found at This Is Me ...

Three names you go by:
1. RebelAngel
2. Reb
3. Rebel

Three screen names you have:
1. rebelangel1102
2. rebelangel64
3. rebelangel1964

Three physical things you like about yourself:
1. fingers
2. tits
3. pussy

Three physical things you don't like about yourself:
1. hair
2. face
3. my Rubenesque figure

Three parts of your heritage:
1. Hungarian
2. Czech
3. Polish

Three things that scare you:
1. death
2. unemployment
3. emotions

Three of your everyday essentials:
1. cigarettes
2. coffee
3. time alone

Three of your favorite musical artists:
1. Michael Stanley
2. Goo Goo Dolls
3. Barry Manilow

Three of your favorite songs:
1. 'Lover' by Michael Stanley Band
2. 'Weekend in New England' by Barry Manilow
3. 'Iris' by Goo Goo Dolls

Three things you want in a relationship:
1. trust
2. honesty
3. acceptance

Three lies and truths, in no particular order:
LIES:
1. Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone assassin
2. Area 51 does not exist
3. O.J. Simpson is innocent

TRUTH:
1. That which does not kill us makes us stronger
2. Time heals
3. When you stop looking for love is when you'll find it

Three of your favorite hobbies:
1. crocheting
2. reading
3. blogging

Three things you want to do really badly now:
1. get laid
2. eat
3. sleep

Three careers you're considering/you've considered:
1. English teacher
2. broadcast journalist
3. bestselling author

Three places you want to go on vacation:
1. Hawaii
2. Virgin Islands
3. England

Three kids' names you like:
1. Margaret
2. Jeremy
3. Anastasia

Three things you want to do before you die:
1. fall in love
2. earn $100,000 a year
3. learn to say 'no' and mean it

In For A Dollar, In For A Dime

2005-09-20T19:19:00.000-05:00

I really thought I was getting more consistent with my blogging but apparently I'm wrong. It just seems there's too much running around my head to get it all out. But when it wants to come out, I can't form a sentence to save my life. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I know at least one person checks here daily for new missives. Given that, am I letting myself be stifled? Am I subconsciously censoring myself? Am I holding back for fear of repercussions? After my last brazen post, He said it was dark but He'd learned something about me He didn't know. In the long run, this is a good thing but why the hell can't I just tell Him what's going on in my head? I'll tell you why; because I'm still terrified at the fragility of "us". Case in point. I made some fucking smart-assed comment on Thursday asking why don't we talk anymore. It was a simple question which He answered. Work was piling up and needed to be done. I accepted this at face value. I've known from the beginning He's married to his career and, at best, I can only be a mistress but it was the first time work had to come before me.

He asked why He felt as though I was both relieved and upset. Again, my fucking smart mouth threw out, "Search me." Yes, I was relieved He wasn't with another woman. I know He's not looking. I know He would tell me if He found someone. Besides, if He doesn't have time for me, how the hell would He have time for someone else? On the other hand, I was upset. Suddenly, I realized how dependent on Him I've become. Not dependent in that I can't live without Him but in that His positive energy recharges me after dealing with the real world. He makes me feel alive. He turns all my negatives into positives. He's like an elixir I've grown addicted to which says a helluva lot about me. I fucking hate turning into every needy woman I loathe. I fucking hate being dependent on someone else to boost my self-esteem and self-image. I fucking hate looking outside of myself for validation.

After a long silence, He sent a message explaining in detail where He stood and the way things are. It was nothing new. As I said, I've known from the beginning His career is important to Him. I know His every waking hour is spent working, one way or another. His work ethic is a part of Him and I accept Him just the way He is. I understand and appreciate His dedication and wish I could be as dedicated to something.

Anyway, one sentence plunged a knife into my gut. "This is why I don't get into relationships; communication slows then the questions start;" not necessarily a bad thing because I'd rather know Him than not but very insightful nonetheless. How so? Strictly from the psycho-babble I've heard for over 10 years, when a person buries him/herself in work, he/she is hiding from something. He's far too brave and honest with himself for this to be true but it did get me wondering. Did His previous relationships fail because He was never there, either emotionally or physically? Could He be keeping Himself busy to avoid thinking or feeling? Has He been played for so long by so many that He's given up on friendship, on love? It seems He never does anything for Himself and, even when He does, He's still doing stuff for everyone else but Himself.

The second thought that ran through me was this is the big kiss-off. The big goodbye. I don't know what He expected me to say or how He expected me to react. Well, that's not entirely true. I imagine He was expecting me to stomp my feet and pout, beg and plead, cry and complain but I didn't. I reiterated I understand, appreciate and accept his work is a huge part of his life. There wasn't much more conversation after that as I was determined not to breathe down his neck or waste his valuable time with my piddly shit. I did send him an email before I went to bed basically saying I'm here for the duration.

Do I enjoy being second fiddle? Hell no but there isn't much I can do about it. Do I miss Him? You bet your sweet ass I do but there isn't much I can do about that either. I try my hardest to resist sending Him instant messages. If He wants to talk, He knows how to find me. (Besides, I hate being a nuisance and appearing so needy.) The old adage "out of sight, out of mind" weighs heavy on my mind but my heart hopes "absence makes the heart grow fonder". I've always expected the worst and hoped for the best in every personal relationship in my life and I need to stay focused on that. I need to get my damn head out of the clouds and get my feelings under control. I need to be strong and confident. I need to remember I'm the best a man can get and if they don't realize it, it's their loss.

As for where He and I go from here, worse case scenario; we never meet but remain electronic acquaintances. Best case scenario; we meet and realize dreams do come true. I don't have a gut feeling either way at the moment. Fuck, I don't even know if He still finds me sexy and beautiful but hope springs eternal.

Hormonally Unstable

2005-09-13T17:29:00.000-05:00

If you've read my blog for a while, you know I've been experiencing moderate to severe menstrual problems for almost a year. Lady Gyno thought a D&C would alleviate them but, alas, it did not. Short of endometrial ablation or complete hysterectomy, I've accepted the fact that until menopause, I'll be plagued with raging hormones, unpredictable periods and severe bleeding. Normally, this isn't a big deal. I'm certainly used to bleeding like a stuck pig and being doubled over in excruciating pain. And, family and friends know to tread lightly around me during "that time of the month." But now, Angel is part of the equation and I don't know if he'll be able to (or want to) deal with the wild mood swings brought on by fluctuating hormones. I must say, though, for never having touched my body, he knows it better than I do. He knows when Aunt Flo is preparing to pay a visit which awes and amazes me. There has only been one other man with this particular talent but that's another story for another time.

Once upon a time, I was in tune with my body and used to be able to recognize the signs of Flo's impending arrival but, when you're not in a steady relationship where getting laid is often determined by whether you're on the rag or not, your natural instincts tend to dull. Don't get me wrong. Flo has never prohibited me from masturbating or fucking. BND would fuck me anally for hours and MM loved to fuck during my period. (However, in addition to being messy as hell, it's much too painful for me to fuck while on the rag, so we only did it once.)

Usually, the week before and the week after Flo's appearance, I'm so damned horny, I don't have the words to describe it. But with the horniness comes something else, something dark, something that scares me senseless -- self-destruction. I become belligerent, trying to provoke fights with any, and every, one over the stupiest shit. I doubt my self-worth. I berate myself. I obsess about moronic crap. I become an absolute bitch with a dirty mouth and a hair-trigger temper. But, scariest of all, I masturbate harder and with more bizarre objects in more bizarre ways than normal. I get violent with my body; pushing the limits of my pussy, ass and tits until I'm raw, bleeding and bruised.

Before I continue, dear reader, you need to understand there is one aspect of the sexual violence I seek which I refuse to venture into -- snuff. I don't want to see anyone die. I don't want to see spurting blood. I don't want to see body parts amputated. I don't want to see people set on fire. I don't want to see beatings which leave victims unrecognizable. For me, it's about the humiliation and degradation. I want to see women cry. I want to see men fuck pussies and assholes far too small for their cocks. I want to see candlewax dripped onto clamped nipples. I want to see a pussy held open with clothespins. I want to see a weight hanging from bound balls. Fortunately, I don't have to venture far to find a fix.

With the advent of the Internet, I search for brutality, bondage, torture, monster cock, throat fucking, fisting and, basically, any site where women and men are used and abused. And, the more bizarre and freaky, the better. Make a woman airtight while you're shoving your monster cock down her throat and watch the tears begin to stream down her face. Immerse your bound slave in a pool of water and hold him/her there until his/her eyes open wide and he/she struggles for air. Suspend your slave from the ceiling then mercilessly beat him/her with a hard paddle. Use a violet wand on the tip of an erect cock or erect nipples. Connect an TENS (Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation) device to sensitive thighs, cock shafts and clits. Shove an unimaginably huge dildo in a shallow, narrow pussy or a virgin ass. Fist a gay man's ass elbow deep.

I don't know if I want to be the user or the used. I don't know if I'm looking for the pain or the humiliation. Maybe I'm just trying to feel alive. Most of what I've mentioned above is difficult to do alone. I've dripped hot wax on my clothespinned nipples. I've even tried it on my clit. I've bound my tits so tight, they've turned purple. I've used condom-covered flashlights, bottles (the big end), broomhandles, soda cans and various other objects around the house. I've filled my ass with water until my stomach cramped then fucked myself with a three-inch dildo. I've slapped myself with an open hand and a ruler.

In the past, I've done things to my pussy and ass no normal woman would ever dream of. But now, I just watch what's being done to others as I finger myself furiously. Sometimes I use a reasonable dildo, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I use a buttplug, sometimes I don't. I don't recover as quickly as I used to so I don't inflict the damage I used to but I still want it.

After Flo leaves, I return to normal, whatever normal is. Yes, the self-doubts and self-loathing are still there but it's like they've gone underground. I don't dream the ugly, violent dreams. I don't want to beat the living shit out of anyone who looks at me cross eyed.

You might think I'm sick, perverted and twisted and, maybe I am. However, the need for self-abuse subsided considerably when I finally realized I'm an incest/rape survivor. The guilt I'd been carrying for years was finally lifted from my shoulders because it wasn't mine to carry in the first place.

"Let's Roll"

2005-09-11T22:54:00.000-05:00

Four years ago, four transcontinental airplanes were hijacked and deliberately crashed into the World Trade Center in New York, the Pentagon in Washington, DC and a field in Shanksville, PA. In the blink of an eye, nearly 3,000 innocent lives were snuffed out.

In the wake of the destruction wrought by Hurricane Katrina, let's not forget the mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, the firefighters and the law enforcement officers who were murdered so viciously on a late fall day that dawned with hope for them all and ended in terror for a nation.

"Come As You Are, Leave Different"

2005-09-08T19:06:00.000-05:00

The tagline above seems especially appropriate for the State of Louisiana. I've debated about adding my two cents on the disaster in the Pelican State but I can't keep silent any longer. For those of you who don't know what's happening, on September 7th, 2005, Hurricane Katrina slammed the Gulf Coast of the US. New Orleans, the Big Easy, has literally been obliterated; its remaining residents forced to leave town immediately. Not since Hurricane Camille in 1969 has Mother Nature unleashed her wrath on Louisiana leaving hundreds of thousands of people homeless with little more than the clothes on their backs. Unfortunately, it seems Katrina affected blacks and the poor the hardest. Why is it that those in the worst situations to begin with are always the ones to suffer the most??

I'm appalled at the Republicans response to Katrina. They sat on their hands for days instead of sending federal assistance immediately. Where the hell was Homeland Security and FEMA while victims were herded into the Superdome and other stable buildings? Where the hell were they five days later when the victims were begging for help? No food, no water, no sanitation, the victims emerged from buildings dazed, confused and in dire need of the basic necessities to sustain life. Sure, officials paid these desperate souls lots of lip service but help took almost a week to arrive in the form of National Guard troops. Meanwhile, the dead lay rotting in the sun and raw sewage mixed with flood waters generating serious public health hazards.

Dubaya visited the scene of the disaster, again paying lip service. He's promised government assistance. He's made speeches. He's posed for pictures but, at the end of the day, he has a hot meal; he takes a hot shower, then crawls into a warm bed. He and his administration don't give a rat's ass about the American citizens fighting for their lives. Even his mother, former first lady Barbara Bush, publicly showed her stupidity and insensitivity when she said, "And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway so this (she chuckled), this is working very well for them." Excuse me? Mrs. Bush, how long has your head been up your ass? The Bushs could probably fund relief efforts themselves and never blink a fucking eyelash.

And now, FEMA (fucking ego-maniacal assholes) has instructed survivors to visit their website to apply for assistance. Uhhh, call me crazy but these folks don't have homes let alone Internet access. What the fuck are you morons thinking? No Internet? Just pick up the phone and call for assistance but be sure to provide a permanent mailing address. No wonder this country is going to hell in a handbasket. I can't wait until this administration leaves Washington and we can take back America.

My heart breaks every night as I watch the news and see the inexcusable treatment Katrina's victims are receiving. It seems the government just keeps moving them from place to place as if the survivors are so much chattel. Families are in ruins. These people have lost everything they own and now, when they need their government the most, they're getting the runaround.

And, as in any disaster, the victims who can't speak for themselves have been thrown to the wolves. Rescue workers would not pick up animals of any kind so beloved family pets have been left to fend for themselves. Yes, the people of New Orleans need our help but so do the animals of New Orleans. Personally, I'd help the animals first because I don't like people in general but I know that's not the way things work. So, when you make a donation to the American Red Cross and other relief agencies, remember the animals and help them too. Below are the websites for some wonderful organizations whose sole purpose is the welfare of animals. No government, no Dubaya. Hallelujah!!

My thoughts and prayers go to the Citizens of New Orleans. I know this is a cliche but remember: "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." (Friedrich Nietzsche)

The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
American Veterinary Medical Foundation
The Humane Society of the United States
Katrina Found Pets
American Humane Association
LSU School of Veterinary Medicine
Noah's Wish
The Humane Society of Louisiana
North Shore Animal League America
Best Friends Animal Society
Petfinder.com: Animal Welfare Disaster Resources

Quickie

2005-08-23T14:03:00.000-05:00

Normally, I'd blog about Angel but I need to take a break from blogging about him. Why? Because I'm thinking entirely too much and imagining things that just aren't there.

So, life in general has been throwing me curve balls left and right. Last Tuesday, I had my lower right wisdom tooth extracted and, a week later, I'm still in agony. I know, I'm not 18 any more and it'll take me longer to heal but I don't know how much more I can take.

Sunday, my sister and I took my nieces on a river cruise which was fun. Except for the part where I fell flat on my face and, as I lay in the street, a car decided not to see me. It didn't really hit me or anything but I think I saw my life flash before my eyes. I'm just a little bruised and my knee is killing me but I'll survive.

Yesterday, I had my first physical in a very long time. Mom's been pestering me to get a check-up so I finally caved and went. After being poked and prodded, the doc wants blood work, a cardiac event monitor and a stress echo. I think the cardiac stuff is just precautionary because, let's face it ... according to the BMI, I'm morbidly obese, I smoke, I drink too much coffee, I don't eat right, I don't exercise enough and there is a history of heart problems in the family. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.

Other than that, life is pretty much work and Angel. Haven't gotten myself off in probably a month but I'm finding if Angel isn't watching, I just can't get there. I do still watch the AFF cams when they're working but not nearly as much as before. Haven't really watched any porn either but I'm feeling a hankering for watching so hardcore gay stuff. Watching two men fuck and suck each other has always gotten me off before.

"You Don't Know Me"

2005-08-15T19:46:00.000-05:00

Angel has told me this at least three times in as many days. "You don't know me like you think you do." I'm not sure I've ever thought I know him. God knows he's very close-mouthed about himself. Yes, he does answer direct questions but any other disclosure seems like pulling teeth. It's not that he is secretive; he just doesn't talk about himself. I do know his career is his wife and his mistress. He is a slave to her and, although I don't agree with such devotion, I do understand and accept it. His profession is a very large part of who he is but not all he is.

I've been trying to recall any details that might have been revealed during hours of conversation between Angel and I. And, after racking my brain, I realize I really don't know him at all. Yes, I know the basics many new acquaintances know; birthday, family, physical description, career, hobbies; but I don't know him. I don't know what he thinks. I don't know what he feels. I don't know what motivates him. I don't what type of music he enjoys. I don't know if he reads for pleasure. Damn it, there is too much I don't know.

I don't know why his marriage ended but I do know he's had his share of "Barbies" and is finished with them. He's tried of them taking advantage of his easy going personality. He's tired of their shallowness. He wants/needs a real woman; a woman with a heart; a woman who can laugh; a woman who can cry; a woman who is confident; a woman who knows and accepts she is beautiful; a woman who doesn't care what anyone else thinks of her; a woman who can laugh and play but be responsible too.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I thank God every day for sending Angel to find me because that's exactly what Angel did ... he found me. One of literally hundreds of men and women watching my webcam that night, he saw someone worth pursuing; someone worth nurturing; someone beautiful; someone sexy; someone funny. I remember seeing his screen name every night and I remember the calming effect he had (and still does have) on me. He told me he was my bodyguard, sent to protect me from the masses and protect me he has. He told me I made a lasting first impression on him. But I worry the woman he found so appealing, so worthwhile, so beautiful and sexy doesn't really exist. Obviously, she's somewhere inside me or I wouldn't have been able to draw her out but she's hiding from me and the world and only Angel can see her.

I wouldn't trade one moment of time I've spent with Angel for all the gold in the world and I would rather have him in my life than not at all. But, is he really "in my life"? Yes, we talk every day but it seems our conversations always revolve around me and my issues. I know he's doing his damnedest to open my eyes to the "real" me, to see myself through his eyes and, at times, I can see "her" as clear as day. At times, I feel so sure the veil has been lifted from my eyes and I've finally accepted the truth of who I am. But for every step I take forward, there are always two (or more) steps back. He tells me I don't realize what a wonderful woman I am and he's right. He tells me I don't realize how beautiful I am and he's right.

If ever Angel chose to change professions, he'd be a fabulous motivational speaker or psychiatrist. He's always positive; always looking on the bright side; always proposing more effective ways to look at a situation. And, with his help, guidance and support, I'm slowly ridding myself of baggage that never should have been allowed to accumulate. But what, if anything, am I contributing to this friendship? He doesn't call to cry on my shoulder. He doesn't call to commiserate about life. He doesn't call to complain about how unfair life and love is. Why? Because, frankly, that's not his style. He faces life like water rolling off a duck's back. He doesn't dwell on or obsess about the past. After all, there's nothing you can do to change the past except maybe learn from it.

I know my insecurity is not attractive; neither is my neediness. I imagine Angel seeing an instant message from me or seeing my phone number on his phone and shaking his head. But I know he isn't like that. He's straight forward and shoots from the hip and if I did become the nuisance I think I am, he wouldn't hesitate to tell me. He's never put limits on the time he gives me. He's never talked down to me. He's never treated me as anything but a lady. And he's done all this, and more, freely. He's here because he chooses to be here just as he's free to leave if he chooses to but I'm finally realizing he won't throw in the towel easily. He won't quit trying to help me no matter how much shit I throw at him.

After yet another "woe is me, I'm gonna go eat worms" conversation and subsequent phone call so I wouldn't freak out, I had a thought and I am so ashamed of myself. Angel knows my relationships with men have been dysfunctional at best. He knows my MO probably better than I do and what I'm about to say, he probably knows too. Have my pathetic attempts to pick a fight, to beat myself up, been yet another attempt at sabotaging a friendship that could be so much more? Am I being an unholy bitch to force him leave like every other man in my life? Probably but Angel is like no other man I've ever known. He knows the human heart and mind (especially mine) better than any man I've ever known. Sometimes, he's too good to be true and you know the saying: if it seems too good to be true, it usually is. In Angel's case, though, this couldn't be farther from the truth. He is real and he believes in himself and in me.

There was a slim possibility Angel and I were going to have our first face-to-face meeting and be able to spend some time together over Labor Day weekend. Although I was hoping for the best, he couldn't change his reservations so he'll be by himself as he has been for years. Will I cross his mind during his retreat? I hope so but I don't expect it. Will he cross my mind? Every minute of every day. God, I've become every needy, clingy woman I've sworn I'd never allow myself to become.

I started writing this post at a little after nine this morning and I've fought with it all day. And now, I'm fighting with myself again. Do I press "publish" (I know Angel will read this) or do I press "delete"? For now, "publish" wins.

Remember Our Fallen Heroes

2005-08-08T18:47:00.000-05:00

On August 1, 2005 and August 3, 2005, the 3rd Battalion, 25th Marines, 4th Marine Division, Marine Force Reserve (the "325"), headquartered in Brook Park, OH, lost 20 servicemen. Since Operation Iraqi Freedom began, the 325 has lost more personnel (49) than any other reserve unit in the country.

Tonight, at Cleveland's International Exposition Center, a public memorial service is being held to honor the brave men of the 325 who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. As their bodies are returned to American soil, private funerals and burials will take place across the state. Mothers and fathers, wives and children, will mourn the loss of their loved ones. Flags will fly half-mast and "Taps" will be played by a lone bugler as they are finally laid to rest.

The War in Iraq is far from over. There are currently no plans to pull out our troops until 2006, if then. Whether you agree with the war or are against it, remember American troops, your fellow citizens, your neighbors, your friends and your loved ones will continue to die but they are dying for the freedoms you take for granted every day. They are dying to prevent another 9/11. They are dying to protect and preserve our way of life. Support those troops still fighting, whether with a letter or a care package or an email. Let these brave men and women know you appreciate and support what they are doing for us.

Soldiers are not political creatures. They go where they are needed, when they are needed. They take an oath to protect and defend America. They are doing something they strongly believe in. We need to believe with them.

August 1, 2005

Cpl. Jeffrey A. Boskovitch, age 25
Lance Cpl. Roger D. Castleberry Jr., age 26
Sgt. David J. Coullard, age 32
Lance Cpl. Daniel N. Deyarmin Jr., age 22
Lance Cpl. Brian P. Montgomery, age 26
Sgt. Nathaniel S. Rock, age 26

August 3, 2005

Lance Cpl. Nicholas William B. Bloem, age 20
Lance Cpl. Grant B. Fraser, age 22
Sgt. Bradley J. Harper, age 25
Cpl. David S. Stewart, age 24
Lance Cpl. Kevin G. Waruinge, age 22
Lance Cpl. Timothy M. Bell Jr., age 22
Lance Cpl. Eric J. Bernholtz, age 23
Sgt. Justin F. Hoffman, age 27
Cpl. David Kenneth J. Kreuter, age 26
Lance Cpl. Michael J. Cifuentes, age 25
Lance Cpl. Aaron H. Reed, age 21
Lance Cpl. Edward A. Schroeder II, age 23
Lance Cpl. William B. Wightman, age 22
Lance Cpl. Christopher Dyer, age 19

Source: Department of Defense

Dreaming of You ...

2005-08-05T19:04:00.000-05:00

I need to write. I need to get some of these thoughts out of my mind before I lose my tenuous grasp on reality. But the thoughts are chaotic, incoherent bits and pieces with no rhyme or reason, no connectivity. Where does one start when there is no obvious beginning?

As it's fresh in my mind, here is a fantasy I've been reliving in my dreams for quite some time.

~*~

It had been a typically crazy week. She was exhausted and just wanted to get home, crawl into bed and sleep. No phones, no computers, no people, just blissful, uninterrupted sleep. Although she prided herself on her powers of observation, she didn't take notice of the unfamiliar truck sitting in the parking lot as she pulled in. There were always strange cars about so one more didn't raise any alarms or ring any bells.

The garage door opened with great protest and she yet again reminded herself to talk to her brother about either replacing it or repairing it. Easing the big SUV into it's space, she switched off the ignition and rested her forehead on the steering wheel listening to the creaks and groans as the car began to cool. She was tired, bone-tired and, like every other weekend, she would be alone. Alone to do what she pleased when it pleased her. Alone to lounge in bed until well after noon. Alone to nap when she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Alone to think when thinking was the last thing she wanted to do.

It seemed like she'd sat there for an eternity before lifting her head. Grabbing the keys from the ignition and her briefcase from the seat beside her, she suddenly couldn't wait to get out of the heat and into her air conditioned home. She stepped out of the darkness of the garage to feel the sunshine on her face and, as she pressed the button to close the door, her eyes drifted to where the unfamiliar truck was parked. There, leaning against the front quarter panel, stood an incredibly handsome man. As she drank the sight of him in, recognition niggled at the back of her brain. There was something oddly familiar about him and then it struck her. It was him, the man she'd been corresponding with; the man who accepted her as she was with all of her baggage and issues; the man who had taken her heart into his hands and lovingly cared for and nurtured it back to health.

He saw the proverbial light go off over her head when she recognized him and smiled. God, she was more beautiful than any one-dimensional picture could ever capture. He was drawn to her more than he'd ever been drawn to any other woman. There was something about her that endeared her to him from their very first conversation. Yes, she still had issues but they'd been working on them together. She'd grown a lot but there was still a long way to go. He pushed himself off the truck and started to walk toward her.

Her heart began to flutter in her chest as she watched him walk toward her. Setting her briefcase on the driveway, she slowly began walking toward him then broke out in a full run throwing herself into his arms. His big, work-rough hands settled on her ample hips as she wound her arms around his neck, hugging him to her fiercely. No words were spoken as they stood there holding each other. Finally, he gently pushed her back so he could gaze upon her face and fall into her eyes. She looked up at him and, as their eyes met, she sighed. The connection between them was real; she could feel it. It wasn't in her imagination after all.

Slowly, he began to lower his lips to hers. He'd dreamt of kissing her many times and, with her now before him, he couldn't wait any longer. But he watched as fear washed over her face. She reached up and cupped her hand over his mouth, her eyes pleading with him to understand. It wasn't that she didn't want to kiss. In fact she did but she didn't know how to kiss and certainly didn't want to disappoint him. Silent communication flowed freely between them during those brief seconds before he started to kiss her palm. She grew weak-kneed as his tongue gently stroked her skin. Butterflies were released in her belly as his eyes looked at her. He wasn't disappointed in her. He was ready, willing and able to take her under his wing and teach her the things no other man had taken the time to teach her.

About Last Night ...

2005-07-29T16:41:00.000-05:00

Last night, for the first time since we met, Angel stood naked before me. No, not in the physical sense (although I'm very much looking forward to that day) but in the sense of he let all his defenses fall away and allowed me to see his heart and soul. But I really should back up a bit to capture the whole experience.

Angel and I speak every day, whether via instant messages or the good, old telephone, we are always connected. Sometimes there are long periods of silence between us when we're instant messaging but it's a comfortable silence. I know he's doing his thing and he knows I'm doing mine. But, there are times when that silence is odd, then eerie, the deafening. I know I must have done or said something wrong and, being the paranoid twit I am, I begin to panic.

Such was the case last night. Angel has the unique ability to be inside my head any time he wishes. He knows how and what I'm feeling long before I do and he understands and accepts me despite (or maybe because of) the neurosis he sees. He's told me from the beginning to call him, any time, if I need support, a pep talk, an ego stroke, a reality check or just to hear a caring voice. However, I have a very difficult time doing it. I hate feeling needy let alone being needy. I know he's busy with more important things and I know I should be secure enough in myself to not need him. When I can screw up the courage to call, he always answers the phone, is always cheery, always puts a smile on my face and always shows me I'm not as lost or out of control as I think I am. Have I cried on the phone with him? I'm ashamed to admit I have. And as I'm blubbering like a baby, I hear his incredibly sexy, strong, confident voice through the haze and I know everything will be alright.

When he asked me how my day was, I told him total and utter shit; and quite a few times I picked up the phone to call but couldn't. "Why?", he asked. I gave him every lame-ass excuse I could think of: you're busy, you don't need me dumping on you, I hate bothering you, I don't want you to feel I'm using you. "Those are just excuses and not very good ones. I'm here to support you in good times and bad," was his comeback ... and then, he went silent. For almost an hour, all I heard was silence. I was convinced I'd finally pushed him over the edge; convinced he'd finally had enough of my shit.

As the tears began to flow down my face, I closed the message window, went to Pogo.com and played solitaire for a while. Then, suddenly, the messenger popped up. It was Angel and, with one brief sentence, I sighed with relief. There'd been an emergency and he hadn't forgotten about me. Then, as if a damn had broken within him, he started writing furiously sending message after message after message:

You need to stop thinking the worst
I haven't gone anywhere
I'm trying to be there for you any way possible
If you were a burden, I'd tell you
I won't put a limit on the time I willingly give you
The relationship we are forging is special
I will always be here for you no matter where this goes
The foundation we're creating will never crumble

For almost 30 minutes, his soul spilled out before my eyes. And as I read each word, each sentence, I finally saw, without a shadow of a doubt, that Angel cares for me, cares about me and I really and truly have a place in his heart. I've never doubted he cares. I've never doubted we're on to something special but to see it first hand ... I simply don't have the words to describe the feeling.

This morning, I rushed to the computer to see if he'd left a message. "Don't let the weight of the world bring you down. Have a great day." I called him about one this afternoon and left a message, just to say "hi" and I'm thinking about him and I hope his day wasn't too busy. I haven't heard from him but know I will when he gets home tonight. Even though Angel isn't physically here with me, when I walk in the door, it is him I'm coming home to. One day, we will meet in person and strengthen our spiritual connection with a physical one. Until that day, I will do my very best to be the woman he and I know I am.

Of Men and Music

2005-07-27T17:33:00.000-05:00

First things first. Yesterday's post about Black Rock barely scratched the surface of the contempt I feel. However, I've heard of so many people who've lost their jobs because of what's been said in their blogs, I tried to keep my ranting as generic as possible. Did writing about it help to alleviate the angst? A little bit. I'm going devise some general codes for individuals there so I can blog a bit freer but don't expect that any time soon.

I've got so much on my mind right now; so much I want to exorcise but I don't have a clue where to begin. I could focus all my energies on Angel. I could start "reviewing" some of the many blogs I've come to love. I could delve into my past. I could start the "Dear Diary" series I promised. I could explore new and old attitudes about sex and sexuality. There's so much I want to share but I don't want to bore my reader/s.

So, with all that in mind, I've decided to touch on something simple, something easy -- music. Michael Stanley released his latest CD, American Road, earlier this month. In some respects, it's a return to the writing of old but a lot of the tunes are more bluesy than I personally care for. However, no matter what Michael sings, I still feel he's singing to me personally after having written a song about some aspect of my life. I'm telling you, the man has written the soundtrack of my life.

Although I'm in no way musically inclined, I love listening and singing along. You can almost always tell what sort of mood I'm in by what type of music I'm listening to. Heartbreak is Barry Manilow. Creativity is Pink Floyd's "The Wall". Good mood is any hair band, i.e. Poison, Def Leppard, Winger. Bad mood is Black Sabbath, Metallica, Judas Priest. And any mushy love song or power ballad indicates a new love in my life.

I don't know where this love of music comes from. Or maybe it's not the music as much as it is the lyrics that strike a chord within me. But it's the lyrics that inexplicably become intertwined with people, usually men, in my life at any given time. It could be the whole song or just one line that flicks a switch in my brain which forever links an individual to a song. As for the men in my past (for the most part), the songs associated with them are below:

BND - "Nothing Compares 2 U" by Sinead O'Connor
FB - "New Age Girl" by Dead Eye Dick
BG - "Drops of Jupiter" by Train
EP (whom I haven't talked about yet) - "Tall Cool One" by Robert Plant
MM - "You Outta Know" by Alanis Morissette
CA - "Run To You" by Bryan Adams
Angel - I haven't discovered a song for him yet

Naturally, there are a multitude of other songs associated with each one of these men but the ones listed are the stand-outs.

So, now you know the Ice Princess has a place in her heart where all the men in her past live, sheltered from view and from her conscious mind.

BTW, I'm kinda depressed I'm not getting comments anymore. It's really no big deal because this blog is for me but it's nice to hear from you occasionally.

Why Ain't I Rich?

2005-07-26T20:05:00.000-05:00

I don't usually blog about Black Rock here but there comes a time when rules must be broken. What I do for a living and where I do it aren't relative. What is relative is my performance and efficiency are, unfortunately, dependent on the performance and efficiency of others. When "they" fail, I fail and I hate failing at anything.

The notion that shit rolls downhill is so very true in Corporate America. The big boss bitches to the middle boss who bitches to the little boss who then slams the peon. The top rung doesn't care how the bottom rung gets the work done as long as it gets done. The top rung doesn't care if you haven't gone to the john all day or if the phone has been implanted into your ear or if you haven't eaten all day. The top rung wants what it wants when it wants it; no ifs, ands or buts.

Everything I know about computers, systems and applications, I've learned on the fly. No one handed me a damn thing except a computer full of software and instructions to learn it. So I did and I'm damn good at what I do, if I do say so myself. Deserved or not, I've got a reputation for lightening fast turnaround on anything from system maintenance to report creation. But that turnaround depends on the reliability of the back-end systems. If they don't work, my hands are tied and I'm screwed, and not in a good way.

Every person in every company has one or two "go-to" people. You know you can contact your "go-to" network at a moment's notice to help bail you out of a sticky situation and, your "go-to" people know you wouldn't ask for help if it was needed fast. But when your "go-to" network suddenly disappears, not only are your hands tied, not only are you fucked but now you have to go through "proper channels" to get a five-minute job done. And anyone who's ever had to do something by the book knows, this simple five-minute job will take at least 72 hours.

This probably sounds like sour grapes but I'm sick and fucking tired of taking responsibility for shit I'm not responsible for; for being everyone's fall gal when shit breaks or doesn't work to their satisfaction. I'm just a woman putting in her time until she can retire in about 30 years. So, is it any wonder I have an ulcer; I suffer panic/anxiety attacks, I don't sleep, I'm constantly stressed. Your six-digit salary is a helluva lot more than my five-digit salary but that doesn't give you the right to sit on your ass watching television and eating bon-bons while I'm doing everything I can to keep my head above water.

Pornucopia

2005-07-25T18:03:00.000-05:00

"What if we don't watch porn films to see our fantasies up there on the screen? What if we watch porn films to find out what our fantasies really are?"

This quote, from Constance Penley, Professor of Film Studies at UC Santa Barbara, has been sitting in my mental filing cabinet for quite some time and now is as good a time as any to blog about it.

The HBO documentary "Pornucopia: Going Down In The Valley" is a behind-the-scenes look at the adult entertainment industry, during which Ms. Penley gets more than her share of airtime. Although it doesn't contain anything terribly shocking, it was an interesting watch. Unfortunately, HBO is currently only showing "the best of" so run over to MuchoSucko, select "The Videos" and search for pornucopia. All six episodes are there.

So, as I've been getting caught up on my blog reading, the subject of porn invariably popped up. Isn't there's always someone who has something to say about porn? Apparently, commercial porn has given way to real porn. I'm not talking about so called "amateur" porn but porn filmed by real people usually via their webcams; real porn in real time.

In her June 26, 2005 post, "Porn is So Blah...", Freya writes one of the most honest opinions on porn I've read in quite some time. And it's not honest because I happen to agree with her. It's honest because, quite frankly, it's the truth. Commercial porn cranks out film after film after film to meet the demand of its consumers but sit down and watch a new film; really watch it. Notice how every woman has had more surgery than Michael Jackson. Notice how 99.5% of the men are ugly as sin. Notice how the performers get into positions no normal human would dare try let alone be in for any extended period of time. Notice how every woman begs for a facial. And notice how every guy shoots his load instead of drooling it.

Now, everyone knows porn is made for men. Men just love jacking off while watching the hot chick get fucked and sucked seven ways from Sunday or watching the hot lipstick lesbians have a pussyfest. But then, these testosterone-filled love machines hit the bars and clubs and, lo and behold, where the hell are the hot porn chicks? Guess what guys? The average American woman is not, nor will she ever be, a hot porn chick. She's about 5'4", 144 pounds, 40-34-43 and a size 14.

Enter the webcam, that little sphere sitting on your desk or your PC. It allows you to broadcast to the world your every move 24/7/365. And not just mundane things like vacuuming or cleaning. No, sir. This little baby allows you to put your freak on by yourself or with someone you love (or someone you just want to fuck). A guy can jack off for hours knowing chicks are watching him and waiting for him to come. A gal can diddle herself with fingers, vibrators and more knowing guys are jacking off watching her. And couples can fuck to their hearts content knowing somewhere in the world someone is getting off while watching them.

Camming may be a bit impersonal but wouldn't you rather stroke your cock in the privacy of your own home instead of in some disgusting private booth at the porn store? Wouldn't you rather imagine you're sucking that huge cock deep into your throat instead of taking deadly chances at a gloryhole? Now, nothing beats sex with that special someone and nothing ever will. But, for everyday people looking to explore their sexuality, there is nothing safer than doing it on the web.

This post is a whole lot longer than I planned but you all know how much I love sex and how hard it is for me to shut up when I get on my soapbox. Actually, I'm loving sex more now than I ever have before partly due to Angel and his appreciation of my fine form and partly due to, what else, camming. Amazing what a positive self-image will do for your libido and what a little piece of technology will do to erase your inhibitions.

Creative Interlude

2005-07-24T11:31:00.000-05:00

Gently, she rolled out of bed so as not to wake him. Him. The thought on her mind was intoxicating. She could smell him, them, on her skin. She could still feel his hands, his mouth, his cock branding her as his for all time. Standing next to the bed, she looked at him yet again. She knew in her heart she'd never grow tired of looking at him, of touching him, of being with him. She couldn't drink in the sight fast enough. Dark, silky hair fanned out beneath his head. His lips bruised and puffy from hours of kissing every part of her body. His work-rough hand laying across his stomach. His milk chocolate skin, a stark contrast to the snow white sheets, glowing in the aftermath of their incredible union.

She tip-toed to the sliding glass doors of the balcony and stepped outside, naked. An early morning breeze swept over her raising gooseflesh on her naked body. Her sleep-rumpled hair swirled around her shoulders. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt her nipples harden and with their hardening came an ache. She wanted to feel his mouth suckle her again. She wanted his strong fingers squeezing her dark pink nipples to the point of pain, exquisite pain that shot through her body ending in her pussy. She could feel herself begin to grow wet again. In her wildest dreams and fantasies, she never imagined a lover could illicit such responses from her.

For more years than she could count, she'd allowed herself to be used and abused by other men. Men looking to score. Men looking for a warm pussy. Men looking for more than they had a home. And she gladly spread her legs for each one of them but never enjoyed. She became adept at faking the ecstasy they believed they were giving her. She became adept at hiding the pain and hurt she endured. But, as they left her bed, she'd always look to the dresser expecting to see money laying there for services rendered. Of course it never was but that's how she felt, like a prostitute selling her body and her soul to any cock who wanted it.

And then, the powers that be decided her time in hell had come to an end. It was her time now. Her time to feel loved and wanted, cherished and adored. Her time to realize she was so much more than a piece of meat. But these feelings were alien to her for she'd never felt them before. A part of her wanted to believe the feelings, get lost in them, revel in them, enjoy them. The cynic in her knew when she returned to the bedroom, he'd be gone just like the rest of them. The cynic knew not to trust these alien feelings or to get caught up in them because she'd be hurt yet again.

She shivered as the breeze blew again. The thought of not finding him there brought with it a great sadness. He's so different from the rest of them. He's genuine. He's real. And this handsome man with the beautiful soul and heart of gold had chosen her, at least for the moment. He'd looked beyond her average looks and too much extra padding to see the beauty she didn't know she was. But more than that, he'd found her heart, the heart she was sure she'd buried so deeply in ice no one would ever find it. And not only had he found her long-dead heart, he started it beating again. He took it into his hands like a precious gem and held it close to him. He held it gently as one might hold an elegant orchid. He nurtured it as one might nurture a wounded bird. And he treasured it like a beautiful memory.

A single tear formed at the corner of her dark eyes. She hated herself at that moment. Hated herself for allowing him to penetrate all her defenses. Hated herself for letting her heart betray her once again. But as she reached up to brush the wetness from her cheek, she felt his arms come around her waist. She felt his lips brush her neck and his head rest against her shoulder. She didn't know how long he'd stood behind her, watching her and she didn't care. He was still here and still wanted her.

She swiveled in his arms to face him looking into his beautiful eyes. What she found there surprised her and touched her for she saw something she never thought she'd see in any man's eyes. She saw concern and caring, worry and love. Yes, she finally saw love for her in a man's eyes. She placed a kiss on his lips then she felt his lips part and return the kiss with gentle passion. With her hands on his slim hips, she broke the kiss and put her head on his broad chest. His hands moved up her spine caressing her, pulling her closer. Placing a kiss atop her head, he whispered the four words he'd said since they'd met. Four words that meant more to her than any other words he could have spoken. As if he'd crawled into her mind and sensed the turmoil and pain she was in, he said, "I'm not going anywhere."

The Color of Friendship

2005-07-21T21:08:00.000-05:00

Snagged this from Papyrina's blog:

Once upon a time, the colors of the world started to quarrel. All claimed they were the best, the most important, the most useful, the favorite.

Green said:
"Clearly I am the most important. I am the sign of life and of hope. I was chosen for grass, trees and leaves. Without me, all animals would die. Look over the countryside and you will see that I am in the majority."

Blue interrupted:
"You only think about the earth but consider the sky and the sea. It is the water that is the basis of life and drawn up by the clouds from the deep sea. The sky gives space and peace and serenity. Without my peace, you would all be nothing."

Yellow chuckled:
"You are all so serious. I bring laughter, gaiety and warmth into the world. The sun is yellow, the moon is yellow, the stars are yellow. Every time you look at a sunflower, the whole world starts to smile. Without me there would be no fun."

Orange started next to blow her trumpet:
"I am the color of health and strength. I may be scarce but I am precious for I serve the needs of human life. I carry the most important vitamins. Think of carrots, pumpkins, oranges, mangoes and papayas. I don't hang around all the time but when I fill the sky at sunrise or sunset, my beauty is so striking that no one gives another thought to any of you."

Red could stand it no longer. He shouted out:
"I am the ruler of all of you. I am blood - life's blood! I am the color of danger and of bravery. I am willing to fight for a cause. I bring fire into the blood. Without me, the earth would be as empty as the moon. I am the color of passion and of love, the red rose, the poinsettia and the poppy."

Purple rose up to his full height. He was very tall and spoke with great pomp:
"I am the color of royalty and power. Kings, chiefs and bishops have always chosen me for I am the sign of authority and wisdom. People do not question me! They listen and obey."

Finally, Indigo spoke, much more quietly than all the others but with just as much determination:
"Think of me. I am the color of silence. You hardly notice me but without me you all become superficial. I represent thought and reflection, twilight and deep water. You need me for balance and contrast, for prayer and inner peace."

And so the colors went on boasting, each convinced of his or her own superiority. Their quarreling became louder and louder. Suddenly, there was a startling flash of bright lightening, thunder rolled and boomed. Rain started to pour down relentlessly. The colors crouched down in fear, drawing close to one another for comfort.

In the midst of the clamor, Rain began to speak:
"You foolish colors, fighting amongst yourselves, each trying to dominate the rest. Don't you know that you were each made for a special purpose, unique and different? Join hands with one another and come to me."

Doing as they were told, the colors united and joined hands.

The Rain continued:
"From now on, when it rains, each of you will stretch across the sky in a great bow of color as a reminder that you can all live in peace. The Rainbow is a sign of hope for tomorrow." And so, whenever a good rain washes the world and a rainbow appears in the sky, let us remember to appreciate one another.

Happy Anniversary, Sweetie.

My Heart Cried Last Night

2005-07-21T14:05:00.000-05:00

"I met a woman. We fell in love. Then the unthinkable happened."

That was all he said but those three sentences moved me more than anything he's said before. I know he's been played. I know he's been hurt. I know he's known loss. I know there is an air of sadness about him but it's not ordinary sadness. It's a deep, profound sadness bordering on melancholy. Despite this darkness in him, his heart hasn't hardened; but there is a dead place, a place where all the bad is stored, far from view. It's a place he rarely, if ever, visits; a place he doesn't let anyone near, ever.

But, the presence of the dead place hasn't diminished his belief in love or his ability to love. He's more guarded now and vigilantly protects his heart from being used, abused and stepped on. God help you though if you do injure it for his heart will turn to stone toward you for all time. Contrarily, when another heart, a kindred heart, finds its way to his, it's greeted with open arms, cherished and held onto for a lifetime.

As I lay in bed last night, I could feel him lazily drape his arm across my midrift as he pulled me closer to him. Like two spoons laying in a velvet-lined drawer, we fit together perfectly. He settled comfortably against me, brushed my neck with his lips, sighed a weary sigh then drifted off to sleep. And there, wrapped in his comforting embrace, I feel safe, wanted and loved.

I've felt him since the beginning. Every night as I lay my head upon my pillow and every morning as I open my eyes to face another day, he is there, watching, waiting, protecting. Through some higher power, we've become connected. Exactly what the nature of this connection is I don't know for sure but I won't fight it. I can't fight it because I'm completely helpless against it.

Thoughts of him flutter through my dreams and fantasies. Usually vague, in washed out colors and unfocused, I know more by instinct than by sight it is him who visits me. My dreams are almost like watching a very old copy of a very old film. That is, until last night.

As I entered the world of dreams, it was like walking into Munchkinland in "The Wizard of Oz". The colors were vibrant; the smells wondrous; the textures alive; the sounds resonant but I wasn't myself in this strange world. I wasn't an observer either. I'm looking through the eyes of someone and what I see is exquisite.

The eyes, smoldering yet gentle, gaze across an expanse of blue water, looking to the horizon where the sun would shortly set. I can feel the floor move beneath my feet. My work-rough hands loosely hold a steel railing. Then, a pair of small, elegant hands encircle my waist but I'm not afraid. In fact, my heart swells. I ask myself yet again if I'm dreaming; if she is real. Lifting an arm, I pull her in front of me, trapping this beautiful creature between the railing and my body. She is not tall nor is she short but we fit together like we were made for each other. I lean forward, placing a kiss atop her head. She tilts backward searching for my lips. Effortlessly, I pick her up and sit her on the railing facing me. For the millionth time, I look into her eyes and see the love I have for her reflected back at me. She reaches up, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me gently but I can feel the passion she is restraining. Nestling her in the crook of my arm, she lays her head on my shoulder as the sun sets.

And as the sun sets and the sky darkens, I'm suddenly in a different place. It feels familiar, very familiar, but I feel bewildered and lost. I watch the television continuously play images of planes striking buildings; of enormous fireballs; of clouds of smoke; of doomed souls plummeting to their deaths; of chaos and confusion and I know she is among them. I can feel it in my heart and with every fiber of my being. She's gone.

I sit down; my knees shaking; my hands trembling. I've learned not to ask why these things happen; why the good die young; because there'll never be an answer. As a thin layer of frost begins to cover my heart, I know I can't go through this again. I know I can't love so strongly and so quickly only to have it ripped away from me. As a single tear begins to form at the corner of my eye, the layer of frost steadily grows thicker.

The alarm woke me at that moment and, as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I found them wet with tears. I reached for him knowing he wouldn't be there but still needing to feel him. As I sat in the middle of my bed, silent, salty tears slid down my face and my heart grew heavy. I wondered what was wrong with me now but then, as if the proverbial lightbulb had suddenly turned on over my head, I knew what was wrong. I knew my heart cried last night.

Memories Never Die

2005-07-19T20:11:00.000-05:00

This may seem a very disconnected post. Although it doesn't directly deal with Angel, he has opened my eyes, my heart and my mind to things I've long refused to recognize. With his gentle guidance and neverending support, I've begun examining feelings I thought were long dead. Dealing with one's past is not always pleasant but in order to grow, one must eventually deal with the good, the bad and the ugly of their life.

Instead of diving into things I'm not ready to share, and because I'm feeling nostalgic and melancholy, this post is dedicated to my "children" -- my four-legged children. The creatures who've loved me unconditionally. The creatures who listened when I yelled. The creatures who cuddled when I cried. The creatures who were always there when I needed a friend.

This was originally written on February 20, 1994 as I was faced with a dilemma each pet owner must eventually face. Here's to you, my darlings!

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a pet as "a domesticated animal kept for pleasure rather than utility" but a pet is so much more. A pet is a friend, a companion and a confidant; someone who won't judge you, someone who listens to you and someone loves you unconditionally. From the first moment you see them, you're hooked. Your heart soars and your spirits rise when they are near and your heart breaks and spirits fall when, whether through an act of God or a necessary decision, they are gone. They come to mean so much to you that you are lost without them.

Renko (1980-1986) was my first "child". The spitting image of Morris the Cat, "Renks" was my little buddy, my first pet. He was named after Andy Renko from the television series "Hill Street Blues." I lost him on February 18, 1986, quite unexpectedly, to congestive heart failure. He was alone in a strange place full of strange people. I felt like I'd let him down because he died alone, without his mom. I should have been there when he closed his golden eyes for the last time. I mourned his loss for months.

Samantha (1990-1991) was my only "daughter". Blind at birth, "Sam" was a very special little girl. White with orange and black spots, she loved watching cartoons and was the best alarm clock a girl could ask for. I lost her on December 7, 1991 after she accidentally got out of the apartment. I was to blame because of my carelessness. I shutter when I think of how hard it must have been on her, out there all alone and still cling to the hope that some kind soul took her in. God willing, she was able to bring joy to another family's life.

Beau (1992-1994) is my second "son". The most beautiful Russian blue you can imagine. Named because he is such a lover, always looking for a scratch behind the ear or a warm lap to curl up in. I'm faced with the ultimate decision a pet owner must make -- when to say enough is enough. He'll never be well, never be the son I've loved and cherished these past 21 months. So, I read the following from Dear Abby and know in my heart what must be done.

Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I might lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I can't tell you when I'm thirsty.

Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life.

And, my friend, when I am very old, and I no longer enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any fun. Please see that my trusting life is taken gently. I shall leave this Earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.

After putting Beau down, I swore I'd never get another pet as long as I lived. The pain and heartache of losing a pet was just too much to bear. I kept my promise to myself for two whole years. Until --

Bro4 had enlisted in the Navy and was relocating his family to Pensacola. Ex-SIL4 asked if I'd board this tiny, little fluff ball until she could find a home for him. One look into his huge eyes, as he rubbed his head against my chin and I lost my heart. "He comes with me, he's not leaving," I told her and Hollywood has been my faithful and loyal companion for six years now. From a sprite who fit into the palm of my hand to a whopping 30 pounds, "Woody" is fat and sassy, a slug who spends most of his time laying around. But, come bedtime, he jumps into bed and curls up next to me for a long night's sleep.

I don't want to think about losing him, ever, but I know that day will eventually come. You can never replace a pet, for each of God's creatures is unique in looks and personality. All you can do is adopt another and give him (or her) all the love and attention you've given all your other children.

"Someone Else"

2005-07-14T16:24:00.000-05:00

I promised I'd tell you about him and a promise is a promise. Hereinafter, I'll refer to my "someone else" as Angel. Why Angel? Just read the following lyrics from the classic song, "My Special Angel" because it's how I see him and how I feel about him:

You are my special angel sent from up above
The Lord smiled down on me and sent an angel to love

You are my special angel right from paradise
I know that you're an angel, heaven is in your eyes

A smile from your lips brings the summer sunshine
The tears from your eyes bring the rain
I feel your touch, your warm embrace and I'm in heaven again

You are my special angel through eternity
I'll have my special angel here to watch over me

I first mentioned Angel on 03 July 2005; the man who knows me better than BG could ever hope to know me; the man who's friendship is becoming more important to me than the air I breathe; the man who has been sent to take my hand and help me eradicate the demons of my mind.

I started camming on 13 June 2005. As my shows become more or less nightly events, in the crowd of admirers was Angel, watching me, sending me words of wisdom when I lost (or gave up) control, encouraging me when I suddenly felt helpless and ugly.

On 21 June 2005, instead of two or three word responses, I invited Angel to a private chat during my show. It seemed we talked for hours while I played with myself for the masses, who I probably pissed off because I become totally focused on this incredible man.

He was open and honest. He was encouraging. He said things to me no other man has ever said. Believe it or not, one thing from our first conversation will forever be burned into my mind. When he said, "Times like this, I would like to hold you and listen to you talk and at other times, I want to taste you," Angel melted my ice-encased heart.

But, part of me feared he would turn out to be like every other man I've ever known. Somehow I knew he would use me then throw me away. I was sure he couldn't be real and, if he was, he was a damn smooth operator. By the grace of God, Angel is the farthest from a player as one can be.

Since that first conversation, Angel and I talk every day. I wake up to a message from him and I can't sleep without talking to him. He's seen me cry my heart out. He's been there to pick me up when I've fallen. And, although we haven't met in person yet, he's held me in his arms and comforted me.

There's so much more about Angel but I'm not ready to share all of him yet. We're slowly but surely building a rock-solid friendship based on trust and honesty. Will this one-of-a-kind friendship evolve into more? Has destiny or fate brought us together for a reason other than friendship? My heart hopes so but a sliver of doubt remains embedded in my heart.

Just Because ...

2005-07-05T19:20:00.000-05:00

it comes in your size doesn't mean you should wear it.

Like most buildings in most major cities, Black Rock is smoke-free. However, unlike some businesses, Black Rock doesn't provide any sort of designated smoking area so I have to haul my fat ass down 14 floors and go outside to smoke. Winter, summer, spring and fall, if I need a fix, I'm standing in the elements. One perk of these excursions (other than killing myself slowly) is enjoying one of my favorite pastimes -- people watching.

As the seasons change, so do the types of clothes people wear. I've always looked forward to spring and summer as winter gear is replaced with lighter, more colorful fashions. It seems skirt lengths increase exponentially with the temperature. The closer to 90, the higher the skirts which, in turn, reveal some of the sexiest legs in the world. I'm a sucker for legs that go clear up to there. Tan, athletic legs, with or without stockings; feet encased in everything from "come fuck me" heels to sandals; painted toenails glistening in the sunlight. And during my smoke breaks, I get more than my fill of enticing, delicious visions guaranteed to romp through my mind all day.

And it's not only women who discard their winter garb. Men break out their light linen suits, their faded, skintight jeans, their t-shirts or, if I'm really lucky, no shirt at all. There's something about a man's tight ass hidden behind tight denim that is such a turn-on to me. And, if they're wearing weathered, worn in boots, I'm wet in seconds.

But these modern day gods and goddesses are few and far between which brings me back to my opening statement ... just because it comes in your size doesn't mean you should wear it. Now, men are far less guilty of this than women. Let's face it, men can wear just about anything and get away with it. Although, some do wear their clothes much better than others. What irks me, or maybe embarrasses me, is the large women who still think they can wear a size 2 even after birthing a half a dozen kids.

Since the inception of this blog, I've been more than open about what I look like. I've never found myself particularly attractive and am loathe to look at myself unless I absolutely have to. (But, that is changing thanks to "someone else" who I'm still not ready to share with you.) However, being a big woman isn't a license to dress like a fucking slob. When I walk out the door in the morning, I'm showered, my hair is clean and fashioned in a ponytail, my clothes fit me, doing their best to minimize the rolls of fat and I am as presentable as I can be. I would never dream of facing the world wearing too-tight jeans causing my belly fat to cascade over the top, a skintight shirt emphasizing every pound and a less than supportive bra making my tits look like globs of raw bread dough oozing out of every nook and cranny. These women can't be comfortable, can they? For me, comfort is what it's all about because if I'm not comfortable, I'm crabby and if I'm crabby, everyone around me is miserable.

Even worse than these full-sized women are the full-sized business women who actually think they can pull off a miniskirt and a halter top or some other ridiculously inappropriate blouse. On those rare occasions my ass is in a dress or skirt, it comes below my knees or longer. I know I have "thunder thighs" and I know everyone who looks at me knows I have "thunder thighs" but I don't fucking advertise them. Just like I wouldn't dream of going braless in public. I would feel naked and exposed and I would develop a rash on my tits and stomach like you can't imagine. It's just not worth it. And what's with full-sized women trying to pull off hip huggers and a thong. The image makes my blood run cold and sickens me.

I guess the point of this whole rant is being a full-figured woman doesn't mean you have to be dowdy or a slob. No matter what your size, you should make every effort to put your best face forward. Screw those who look at you with disgust because of your size. Screw those who don't want to take the time to get to know you because of your size. Remember, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and, trust me, there are beholders who will love you, appreciate you, care about you and, dare I say it, love you despite your size. Beauty comes from within. Ready to regain your life? Visit any of the sites below:

International Size Acceptance Association (ISAA)
National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance (NAAFA)
Plus Size Acceptance
Size Wise: Your World, Your Size!
Size Acceptance: Seeking to End the Hidden Hate
Body Positive
Fat Acceptance Stuff
Fat and Proud Webring
BBW/BHM/FA Organization Ringsurf
Jellyroll's Home Page: A Look at Life Through a BBW's eyes
Largesse: The Network for Size Esteem
Largely Positive
Size Acceptance Websites

This and That ... Odds and Ends

2005-07-03T08:08:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I wrote a rather long post about something I'm not proud of; about events in my life which are probably the root of my self-esteem, self-confidence, self-loathing and intimacy issues. It was painful to dredge up all that shit and even more painful to relive it. So, where is this earth-shattering post? I deleted it. I'm not ready to deal with the issues yet. I did, however, tell the one person who needed to know and he didn't run screaming into the night. No, it isn't BG. He's someone else who knows me better than BG ever will but I'm not prepared to talk about him yet either. Oh, don't worry, you will hear about him but, for now, I'm keeping him all to myself. And, yes, he is an AFF connection but what's developing goes way beyond sex.

Speaking of AFF, it's been over a month since I joined and in that time, there have been ups and downs, triumphs and tragedies. The woman I thought was to be my "soulmate" was just a flash in the pan. We exchanged a few emails but I haven't heard from her in quite some time. Then again, I haven't actively pursued her either. I love women but maybe I do love men more than I ever imagined.

My seemingly nightly webcasts are a hit. I think I've finally found my "groove" and despite the hecklers, I really do love being watched by hundreds of people as I play with my pussy, suck my tits and generally show off. A month ago, I was the shy, reserved, overweight tub of goo who would only fuck with the lights out. Now, I'm the parading peacock who wants the whole world to see I'm sexy and beautiful and full of life. Whodathunk it?

Tragedies include men who obviously can't read. Apparently, I'm quite the geezer magnet. Men anywhere from 10 to 20 years older than me who want to fuck me like they haven't fucked a woman in years. And, most of them LOOK old. Now, we all know, much like money and material possessions, looks don't mean shit to me but I don't want to be seen on the arm of a grandfather let alone a weathered and wizen one. And I certainly don't want to be under one of them when their heart gives out. That would freak me out and probably scar me more than anything else I've ever been through.

And then there are the freaks. The guys who want me to dominate them. The guys who want me to tie them up and abuse them. What the fuck is that about?? Isn't sex supposed to be fun and pain free? Apparently, I don't have the dominatrix gene or else it's lying dormant somewhere in my chaotic mind.

Bonuses, which will make my psychiatrist jump for joy, include having no desire whatsoever to watch porn. Why waste my time with fluff and unrealistic sex when I can watch men and women fuck live? And not just beautiful men and women. Let's face it, the average person doesn't bear any resemblance to the bodies in porn. And that's fine by me.

I'm also becoming comfortable with my beauty. I know, I know. Previous posts from almost the beginning of this blog speak of my hideousness. But, after writing the post no one saw, I realize now the hideousness came from guilt that doesn't belong to me. Shame that isn't mine. Evilness I was sometimes a willing victim to. And with the veil of things that were beyond my control lifted, I'm beginning to see that despite not being a size 2, I am beautiful and have so much to offer that special someone and the world in general. And, frankly, for those who can't see the forest for the trees, it's their loss. Damn, maybe I am becoming the woman I am destined to be!

I'm sure you're thinking I've abandoned the real world for my new cyberlife. Wrong! For better or worse, I'm still working at Black Rock where demands for my time and my expertise grow each day. But now, I walk through my day with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Everyone thinks a good fuck is the reason for my new attitude. Yes, I have fucked myself to mind-blowing orgasms but masturbation is hardly a substitute for a nice hard cock filling my pussy. A lot of my new attitude is a direct result of the special someone I mentioned at the beginning of this post.

Bro4 finally tied the knot with SIL4. Right up to when they exchanged vows, I tried to talk them out of making the biggest mistake of their lives and failed. Now, all I can do is be here to pick up the pieces if it all comes crashing down around their ears. The rest of the family is as fucked up as ever but I still love them, warts and all.

Well, I think I've rambled on enough for one day. I'm going to try my best to post more frequently because I know at least one person checks this blog daily. I'm sure it gets old after a while of seeing the same damn post instead of something new.

I hope everyone is enjoying their summers. Weather here on the North Coast has been extremely hot but there is no more snow and won't be (cross your fingers) for at least six more months.

Have a safe holiday. I promise to be back soon.

Ooh, I'm Camming My Life Away

2005-06-22T10:30:00.000-05:00

Since my last post some two weeks ago, my life has taken a turn for the better. On the 14th, I finally purchased a webcam and since then have been a camming fool.

I discovered how much of a voyeur I am on AFF but since starting my almost nightly "webcasts", I think I'm more exhibitionist than I ever imagined. I love sitting naked in front of the camera as hundreds of men and women come to watch me play with my tits, finger my wet pussy and spread my ample ass cheeks. What puts my "webcast" above others is my interaction with the audience. Since the cam has a mic, I figured why not use it. So, instead of typing while trying to put on a show, I just talk to them. Sometimes hot, sometimes funny, it seems everyone loves to hear me, whether I'm talking or cumming.

Of course, I do have rules and, for the most part, they are adhered to. If they aren't, I don't hesitate to tell the offender to read my fucking profile before trolling for my cam and asking me to stick a dildo in my pussy and fuck myself with it. So, what are my rules? Well, you should be between 35 and 45. (You wouldn't believe how many 50+ guys are looking to get laid.) I don't do phone or cam to cam. I don't do private shows. I don't show my face. If your profile doesn't have a photo, don't talk to me and a whole bunch more. I'll gladly answer any questions posed to me and don't mind being "directed." I do, however, have limits.

Case in point. Last Sunday, I was in a funky mood after Bro4's wedding. (A word to the wise, don't make any major decisions when your head isn't screwed on straight.) So, my show progressed pretty much as usual then some guy asked me to gag myself. So, I did. This lead to breast bondage. I put a choke dog collar around my tits and pulled it tight until they turned purple. Then I applied a pair of nipple clamps (much too tightly) to my aching tits. This wouldn't have been so bad had I not gotten stupid. Another guy asked me to slap my now incredibly sensitive tits so I did but got the brilliant idea to use a wooden ruler instead of just my hand. Needless to say, my once beautiful tits are now covered in ugly bruises. I know they'll fade in time but I'm ashamed to show them let alone play with them.

Anyway, I'm learning a lot about myself. I love performing and interacting with people. I'm funny and sexy and sought after. Of course, I'm only confident in the safety of cyberspace. There is no way I could be like my webcam self in real life. It would shock too many people and probably change their opinions of me, and not for the better. But, you know something? I'm beginning to realize it doesn't matter what others think about me. It's all about what I think about myself and I think I'm finally starting to at least like the woman I am.

No in person hook-ups yet but you'll be the first to know when it happens. Hope you're all enjoying summer and keeping cool.

I'm Addicted, Baby

2005-06-06T10:40:00.000-05:00

You know there's something missing in your life. You know there's a void needing to be filled but damned if you know what's missing or how to fill it. Suddenly, out of the blue, you stumble across something that feels comfortable; something that fills the void; something that makes you feel whole again. Then it dawns on you, this is what's been missing. This is the passion I need in my life. This is the "calling" I've been looking for. This is where I belong.

I'm sure you're thinking, "What the fuck is she talking about now?" but you know what I'm talking about. I'm pretty sure everyone has some kind piece missing in their life. Something that, if found, would make you happy. And that something can be anything -- a pet, a lover, a vocation, an occupation, a cause, a charity. It's something you're meant to do but didn't know it until it slapped you in the face.

After spending a couple of weeks on AFF, I know this is where I am meant to be. Here, I am accepted as I am. I am sought after for my written talents and, I am sought after for possible no-strings, sexual encounters of which I've only dreamed. You can't begin to imagine how heady it is to watch a man with a gorgeous hard cock stroke it and come just by reading your words. You can't begin to imagine how powerful it is to watch a couple fucking as you direct them.

Okay, so this may be a temporary powertrip but I doubt it. This place of strangers and strangeness has boosted my ego as well as my self-confidence. I feel good about myself here and that's really all that matters, isn't it.

Trust me, I will not abandon this blog for I enjoy writing far to much to do that. I will still fill my posts with ranting, raving, bitching, venting and all manner of shit happening in my head, my heart and my life. Hopefully, I will be able to add illicit details of random fucking and sucking with strangers. Damn it, my pussy's wet just thinking about the possibilities.

Online Personals

2005-05-30T15:46:00.000-05:00

I think I've found my soulmate on AFF. She's an incredible woman who's made me cum more in the past 24 hours than I've cum in my entire life. Her voice is like music coursing through me as she plays my body like a fine-tuned instrument. She's an incredible lover and I woke up this morning disappointed she wasn't next to me, feeling my pussy, fingering me, making me wet. When I call her, my breath catches in my throat, then her sexy voice is on the other end. She makes me feel sexy and beautiful but, most of all, she makes me feel loved and worthy of being loved.

I hope a face-to-face meeting can happen in the future because I think I could be falling in love with her. I've never felt like this about anyone else. BG will be happy but certainly won't want to hear the hot details. I can't wait to share my happiness with him.

The Motherlode

2005-05-23T17:15:00.000-05:00

Last week was a cold, hard bitch of a week. It began with my beloved Jeep spending three days in the shop to the tune of two grand! Tie rods, swaybar, trackbar, U-joints, the works. What I took her in for, the exhaust system, wasn't touched. So, now she drives like a champ but sounds like a chump. The exhaust is gonna cost me another six bills.

Without a vehicle, I was forced to work from home which wasn't bad but I certainly don't want to see next month's phone bill. You'd think a nationwide financial institution would have 800 numbers for their satellite offices. NOT!

Friday was NASCAR Day and, apparently, I'm the only NASCAR fan who knew about it or remembered it. It was the kick-off for All-Star Week down at Lowe's Motor Speedway. Also, proceeds from the sale of really cool NASCAR Day lapel pins went entirely to the NASCAR Charities.

Last week was also National Police Week. A week set aside every May to honor the men and women in blue who gave their lives in the line of duty. Here on the North Coast, the annual parade ends at our local Fallen Heroes memorial where I think we added one name. My extended family has a strong history in law enforcement so this week is especially dear to my heart. For those who don't know, a National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial is in Washington, DC.

Then, to cap off this week, Saturday morning, my fat ass broke my office chair, crushing my left hand. Luckily, nothing's broken but I fucked up the tendons, ligaments and nerves bad. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. That is until a brilliant idea came to me.

You might remember my post about being unmarketable, at least in the relationship arena. So I got to thinking, what am I looking for? The simple answer is sex. I'm looking for totally unbridled, hot, sweaty, no-strings attached fucking. I still crave a big juicy cock to suck on. I want to feel a huge cock filling my pussy until it feels like it will come out my throat. I want to taste a pussy again and use my fingers and mouth and tongue to get that pussy to come all over my face. I want to bury my face in a hot pussy as my ass is being fucked like there's no tomorrow.

So, what's a girl to do when she's got no partner? Then it came to me. Maybe I'm looking in the wrong place. Maybe I should be looking at swingers! Couples looking for a woman to play with them. Married men looking for a discreet afternoon fuck. Gay men looking to fuck a woman just to say they have.

I searched the Internet and, after being bombarded with a billion fucking pop-ups, I found AdultFriendFinder.com, the site which proclaims itself the world's largest sex and swinger personals site. I plugged in my search criteria and, lo and behold, personal ads for people looking for people just like me filled my screen. So, I spent a few hours trolling the site and, apparently, membership is free but there are pay memberships available. So, do I join or not? Then I found the "blogs" button and couldn't resist.

I've read some pretty explicit and racy blogs here in the blogosphere but nothing compares to these out and out sexfests. Sex, sex, sex and more sex. Sexual questions, sexual fantasies, sexual perversions, sexual escapades, it's all here and you can read it without joining, you just can't comment. Needless to say, my nights have been spent getting lost in an ocean of fucking and sucking, at least in my mind.

On second thought, maybe last week wasn't so bad after all. A big thank you to everyone wishing me and my blog Happy Anniversary. It means a lot to know someone's reading my blatherings.

Happy Anniversary to Me

2005-05-11T21:41:00.000-05:00

Well dear reader/s, I've been at this blog thing for a year now. I never thought I'd do but I'm glad I have. I'm looking forward to many more years of sharing my own particular brand of storytelling with you.

You might have noticed I've done some screwing around with the left nav bar. There's so much stuff I want to add, I'll never have room for it all. The referrerss list has bitten the dust. It was way too depressing for me. You'll find the weather here on the North Coast and the current Terror Alert Level from the bafoon himself.

So, go out and have a drink on me to celebrate my monumental accomplishment. And, don't do anything I wouldn't.

For the Love of God

2005-05-10T16:23:00.000-05:00

So I'm bloghopping; something I love to do. Since Blogger added the "next blog" button on their header, it's even easier to do. HOWEVER, over 75% of the blogs are either blank or in a foreign language and over 50% of the time, you will visit the same blog more than once. What the fuck is that all about? When I'm bloghopping, I was to see a NEW blog with EVERY click of the button. Like, I love visiting webrings or netrings or whatever the fuck they're called now. Seeing sites all connected by a common theme is awesome and, you are taken from one site to the next in order. Why, oh why, can't Blogger do that? It would probably have to be in alphabetical order or maybe geographically but, I ask you, how fucking hard would it be to do???

In my drug-induced haze, I completely forgot to say "Happy Mother's Day" to all the moms out there. You should have more than one day to be recognized for all you do! So moms (and dads), thank you for being there when your kids need you.

Although I want to write more, I've had a migraine for three days now and need to go lay down for a bit.

PS: A big thank you to the fabulously talented and quite beautiful, Lili, for visiting this blog. Of all the blogs I've come across, hers is by far the best on the web.

Buttaface Part III - The Women

2005-05-07T10:08:00.000-05:00

Okay, it's taken me almost a year but here is the final (at least for now) installment of my "buttaface series". You might want to refer to my two previous posts (May 13, 2004 and June 3, 2004) before continuing. As a quick review, a buttaface is a woman who has everything going for her "but her face". I originally heard the term/concept on Howard Stern's morning radio show and, the more I thought about it, the more I realized exactly how many buttafaces are out there in the big bad world. (No matter what you personally think about Stern, the man does say what the rest of us are afraid to.) And, once again, I want to make it perfectly clear, I am in no position to judge anyone as I wouldn't make most people's Top 10,000 list of beautiful women. But, as I've said before, this is my blog and I'll blog what I want to.

Anyway, in Part II, I featured nine of the hottest (according to my standards) men in the entertainment industry. This post is the long-awaited sequel featuring the hottest women in adult entertainment, mainstream Hollywood and one singer/songwriter/musician thrown in for good measure, again, according to my standards. Trust me, you won't find the usual suspects here!

So, what are these mysterious standards? I honestly don't think I can put into words what I look for in a woman. It can be her legs or her mouth or her hands or her tits or her ass or any combination of the above. It took me well over six hours to weed my list down to a manageable dozen. It was the most excruciating six hours of my life. Without further ado, presented in alphabetical order, are 12 of the hottest women on the planet who I would love to lunch at the "Y" with.

There you have it - 12 totally hot, totally sexy, totally fuckable women! Some faces you might recognize, some you may not:

Row 1 - Erica Boyer, Dana Delany, Deidre Hall
Row 2 - Veronika Hanakova, Nina Hartley, Jill Hennessy
Row 3 - Famke Janssen, Chasey Lain, Sophie Marceau
Row 4 - Stephanie March, Marina Sirtis, Shania Twain

It's a rather eclectic bunch but I'm a rather eclectic woman. Brunettes outnumber blondes and I don't know why unless, of course, it's because I'm a brunette myself. And although I've never been in a sexual relationship with a woman (unless you count the time I was a sextoy for a married couple), I don't rule out the possibility. The right one just hasn't crossed my path yet.

After the serious post yesterday, I wanted to put a little lust in everyone's loins. Besides, I started this over a month ago and figured I'd better get off my fat ass and finish it.

As always, comments are welcome.

"Arbeit Macht Frei"

2005-05-06T21:04:00.000-05:00

This false promise, that work would set you free, greeted hundreds of thousands of Jews as they entered the most notorious concentration camp of World War II -- Auschwitz. This year is the 60th anniversary of the liberation of the camps. Between January and May, 1945, Americans, Russians and British liberated hundreds of skeletal human beings and discovered things npo human should ever have to witness. Germany officially surrendered on May 8, 1945.

This will not be a usual post. It will be hard for some and insignificant to others.

For years, World War II has held an unusual fascination for me. From the infamous battles to the unimaginable atrocities, WWII is a tumultous time in world history. As the soldiers and survivors begin to die, living history is being lost. Luckily, organizations like the Simon Weisenthal Center, the Shoah Foundation and the US Holocaust Memorial Museum are recording the tales of those involved in and affected by these historic events.

If you never do anything else in your lifetime, I strongly suggest you visit the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. Next to visiting the USS Arizona Memorial, it was one of the most moving experiences of my life.

Housed in an unassuming building on the outskirts of D.C., I was not prepared for the adventure I was about to embark on. Upon entering the museum, you are handed a "passport" containing information about a prisoner. For the next two to four hours, for all intents and purposes, you become this person. An elevator takes you to the fourth floor where your journey begins with the Permanent Exhibits. During your short trip, you see a video and hear an American soldier describe his encounter with a camp. As you move from exhibit to exhibit, follow your passport to see what "you" were doing during the Nazi Assault from 1933 to 1939.

You are immediately assaulted with disturbing images of Americans viewing corpses then you learn of life before the Holocaust. Videos, pictures and artifacts bear witness to the normalcy that would soon disappear. Upon seeing the Kristallnacht (The Night of Broken Glass) exhibit, you begin to feel singled out, like you're alone in the world as synagogues and Jewish-owned businesses are destroyed. You ask yourself if there is any way you can escape Germany before things turn really ugly. As you descend the stairs to the third floor, hundreds of pictures of everyday people, of families, of children stare at you from a three-story exhibit that surrounds you.

You are greeted by a casting of the original "Arbeit Macht Frei" entrance to Auschwitz. You see displays of personal belonging confiscated from the Jews. Hairbrushes, glasses, toothbrushes, clothing, suitcases, shoes - everything you owned has been taken from you as you enter hell. You see life in the ghettos; the squalor, overcrowding and hard labor lead to death and disease. Your passport tells you where "you" were as anti-Jewish policies escalated.

In 1942, the Nazis began emptying the ghettos and deporting people to the camps. You walk through an actual cattle used during these operations. It's empty now and clean but, if you listen hard enough, you can hear the voices of the hundred or so people packed into it. You can hear the pleas for food and water; the pleas for a little privacy to use the bathroom which was only a pail. You can smell the fear. You can feel the tension and you hear silent prayers.

The remainder of the floor illustrates life in the camps. From your entry where you were numbered, stripped of all your possessions, had your head shaved and were deloused to your barracks where you would live. Reconstructed bunks from Auschwitz adorn one wall and, as you stare at the impossibly small space, you wonder how you will ever survive. As you are put on a brutal work detail, you wonder how man can be so inhuman to man. As you wheel cartloads of corpses from the gas chambers you wonder what has happened to your family and friends. As the cold winter wind blows through your paper-thin uniform, you ask God, "Why?" As you exit the third floor, thousands of confiscated shoes lay behind a glass wall; more shoes than you've ever seen in your life. Across the aisle, mountains of human hair rest behind another glass wall; hair of all colors and textures some still in braids and ponytails. As you descend the staircase, the three-story exhibit of faces greets you again.

The second floor depicts the end of the war. Maps illustrate the turning point and eventual downfall of Germany. Photographs show more corpses, skeletal survivors, haunted faces that will never know "normal" again and prisoners embarking on death marches as the Nazis desperately tried to evacuate the camps. There is a special exhibit describing the experiences of the children mostly in art.

The last, most powerful place in the Museum is the Hall of Rememberance. Made of exquisite marble, it's a quiet place to reflect on what you've just experienced and read of "your" fate. In my case, the person died in Bergen-Belsen. When I read this, a tear flowed from my eye. I was devastated. I thought I was strong enough to survive. I thought I had the will to survive. Of course, it wasn't really me, it was a total stranger but I'd become that stranger during my visit and for one brief moment, my heart stopped and I grieved. On the far wall of the Hall, in a type of grotto, a flame burns 24-hours a day. I stared at it intensely and watched as millions of hopes and dreams went up in smoke because one group of people decided that another group of people was inferior and needed to be eradicated.

I told you this wouldn't be my normal post and, although I'm not Jewish and don't know of any family lost during the Holocaust, we as a people need to remember what happened 60 years ago. We need to learn tolerance. We need to learn that hate kills. We need to remember those who perished and we need to keep another Holocaust from happening again.

Please Change Your Bookmarks

2005-05-05T17:40:00.000-05:00

As promised, here is my redesigned blog. Now called "midnight confessions", the URL will change to http://midniteconfessions.blogspot.com in a day or two. For your convenience, there will be a redirect at the previous URL.

You might be asking yourself, why'd she do that? Well, for whatever lame-brained reason, I felt the title "the truth remains unspoken" was subconsciously limiting me from really opening up. Trust me when I say the truth did indeed remain unspoken previously. Oh this will be the same great blog with the same great filling just more of it. I've got skeletons I need to get rid of. I've got secrets I need to reveal. I've got bitching and complaining to vent. I've got more sexual energy, ideas, opinions and escapades than I know what to do with. I've got memes and quizzes coming outta my ass and previous diary (yes, actual handwritten diaries) entries I'd like to share.

I'd love some feedback on the new design. Keep those comments, both positive and negative coming. I'm being to feel like a real blogger.

On the Pity Potty

2005-05-05T17:23:00.000-05:00

Thank you all for your kind words. I know I shouldn't be so down on myself but it's always been easier for me to believe the bad stuff.

Buffalo, you are absolutely correct. I am sitting on the pity potty but you're not the first person to indicate I don't believe what I say. Apparently, my bark is worse than my bite and deep in my heart of hearts, I yearn for Prince Charming to come sweep me off my feet. Okay, I'll admit it. I do dream of it but I don't expect it.

Unmarketable

2005-04-25T22:27:00.000-05:00

Well, it's official. I am an unmarketable woman! Which really sucks ass because I thought maybe, just maybe, my soulmate was somewhere out there. Well, s/he ain't. And how do I know this? Because in a moment of stupidity, I joined one of those online dating services three weeks ago and guess what? I haven't had one taker, not one. How fucking pathetic is that, huh?

When I was 25, I moved out with the boy next door ("BND"). I thought it was love but apparently it wasn't. Less than six months later, he discovered I'm "a manipulative, vindictive, jealous bitch" and moved out lock, stock and barrel.

The following year, there was MM. I again, wrongly, thought it was love. After two years, it dawned on me I was nothing but a convenient semen receptacle.

Then, a couple of years later, I was a fucktoy for a married couple which only lasted about six months. The wife got jealous because apparently husband enjoyed fucking me more than her.

Then, last year, there was FB, the husband of the former husband-wife team. I thought, finally, this is it. I'll finally be in a steady relationship and live happily ever after. Crock of fucking shit!

Now, the only man in my life is a fag who has absolutely no desire to fuck me, or any other woman, let alone get closer than the phone or email. Don't get me wrong. That word ("fag") was not used in a derogatory manner. If you've read any of this blog, you know I love BG more than I've ever loved anyone else in my life but facts is facts. He's gay. He's in a monogamous relationship with the love of his life. He has no sexual (or any other) use for me.

So, apparently I'm doomed to spend the rest of my days here on this fucking planet alone. I've always intellectually known I would be alone but the sudden and brutal realization is like a kick in the dick -- completely unexpected and painful as fuck.

"I Mock Not"

2005-04-21T21:20:00.000-05:00

I'm not in the business of reviewing and/or recommending movies but, once in a while, a little indie film comes along begging to be talked about.

While trolling for information about "Law & Order: SVU" hottie, Christopher Meloni, I stumbled on his website. Upon entering, I was greeted by a pop-down box with the following text:

"A stand-up comedian toiling in the netherworld of the L.A. comedy club scene, Barry's universe is turned upside down when he meets and falls head over heels for Thea Douglas, a young political activist who is clearly in the "spiritual quest mode." Together, they throw themselves into a comic dance of high intimacy where for the first time in their lives the physical and the emotional become one."

A romantic comedy starring Chris? I simply had to click the link to "The Souler Opposite". Written and directed by actor/comedian Bill Kalmenson, this little "romantic mockery" has received critical acclaim from the likes of the NY Times, the LA Times, E! Online, the Hollywood Reporter and more. Normally, I don't read reviews because what critics like I usually hate and what they pan, I usually fall in love with.

After reading the entire site, I just had to buy the DVD. Chris Meloni, the normally hard-assed Elliot Stabler on "SVU" doing comedy AND romance? It was just too good to be true. Of course, I had second thoughts after pressing the "pay" button. But I swallowed my hesitation, held my breath and waited for my purchase to arrive.

Two days later, "The Souler Opposite" was in the mailbox. I was like a kid at Christmas, ripping open the package and then the DVD itself. For the next 104 minutes, I laughed, I cried and I related to quite possibly one of the best movies I've seen in a very long time.

The casting of Meloni, Janel Moloney ("The West Wing") and Timothy Busfield ("thirtysomething") is superb. In a nutshell, the story revolves around a struggling stand-up comic (Barry) who, despite his best intentions, falls for a political activist (Thea), the proverbial "breath of fresh air". When he's not mooning over Thea, Barry spends his time begging for comedy gigs and discussing life, love and relationships with his best friend, Robert.

I won't spoil this little gem for you. Just trust me when I say this is one movie you need to add to your collection. Seriously, I mock not!

All That Glitters...

2005-04-16T15:01:00.000-05:00

It's a Friday night and, after watching "Law & Order: Trial by Jury" (the continuation of Wednesday's "Law & Order") to see if Det. Green (Jesse L. Martin) survives, I started channel surfing only to discover that without a 500-channel cable package, there's shit on television.

For once, I really had no desire to surf the web or watch porn (do I have a fever?) so I decided maybe a video. Earlier in the week, I'd gone through my 100+ VHS collection and dumped over 95% of them. I haven't watched any since purchase and, chances are, I'm not about to watch any of them any time soon. I did, however, keep a few of my faves I wasn't sure I'd ever find on DVD and most of the "taped-from-television" ones including all my "Sex and the City".

Not since "Dynasty" in the 80's has a series captured my attention like "SATC". I'll admit, I wasn't on the bandwagon from Day One but around Season Three, I became hooked. I bought the Seasons One and Two collections (on VHS) to get caught up and, from then on, my Sundays were spent with Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), Charlotte (Kristin Davis) and Samantha (Kim Cattrall). I cried my heart out when the series ended and even blogged about missing old friends.

So, feeling very nostalgic, I grabbed Season Four and settled in for a few hours of the "good ol' days." At this point in the series, Carrie's engaged to Aidan (John Corbett), Miranda's pregnant with Steve's (David Eigenberg) baby, Charlotte has just broken up with Trey (Kyle MacLachlan) and Samantha is just being her relationship with Richard (James Remar). Episode 62, "All That Glitters..." is what prompted this post because I FINALLY understand BG's hankering for (and attitude about) "lewinsky" sex and BGP's apparent acceptance of it. Here's why:

Carrie is itching to go out on the town but Aidan, being a typical straight guy, wants nothing more than to sit at home with a bucket of KFC and the television. So, she and the girls decide to go dancing at the hot new gay club, Tres. While there, amid a sea of gyrating, sweaty, scantily clad gays, Miranda runs into a co-worker (promising not to "out" him at the office), Charlotte runs into Anthony (Mario Cantone), former personal assistance turned friend, and his "friend", Samantha's in the john taking a hit of Ecstasy and Carrie just wants a dirty Martini.

However, seeing as you obviously need a penis to order a drink in this joint, Carrie can't get the bartender's attention. New-in-town Aussie hottie Oliver Spencer (Murray Bartlett) recognizes Carrie and orders for her. Naturally, he's a shoe distributor and Carrie is smitten. Talk of shoe discounts and gay porn ensues with Oliver asking for a brunch date the next morning. (Yeah, yeah. I'm dragging this out. Ya gotta set the stage, doncha?)

At brunch: (dialog from the episode but not exact)

Oliver: Could you be more fantastic?
Carrie: And they say you can't meet men in bars?
Oliver: Although that was true for me last night. I went to Tres hoping to meet someone new for just a shag ...
Carrie: And your boyfriend doesn't mind if you date other men?
Oliver: Not date. Have sex with.
Carrie: Oh right, right. The international gay rules.
Oliver: Absolutely. Blowjobs only. No last names. The gym is a free space and never, ever show up at the same place wearing the same shirt ...

So there you have it. BG doesn't date. He has sex with other gays according to the "rules" and, obviously, while in a monogamous gay relationship, it's okay.

Just goes to show, you can't expect one man to fulfill all your needs. Sometimes, you need to step outside of the relationship.

Futzing Around

2005-04-14T15:34:00.000-05:00

Check out the side menu. I've tried to shorten it up so the damned page doesn't go down forever. User friendly??

The new name of .t.t.r.u. has been chosen but you'll have to wait for the grand unveiling. Still need to decide on a color scheme as well as header graphic, which could take some time. Certainly helps being on vacation where I can code and recode to my heart's content.

Real posts soon. I promise!!

Coming Soon!!

2005-04-08T11:48:00.000-05:00

I've agonized and obsessed over what to do with this blog. Keep it or trash it? Well, although I don't do it anywhere near frequently enough, I do love writing so the blog stays. However, keep your eyes open for a new design as well as a new name. The URL will remain the same.

And, as my life is so fucking boring, I dug out the only journal I ever kept and have decided to share it with you. It only covers a handful of years but as I read through it, many of my idiosyncrasies, obsessions, trials and tribulations remain the same today as they did back then. I will try not to edit any of the posts so you can see how I've "matured" in my writing style.

So, if anyone has a problem with .t.t.r.u. changing it's name, speak now or forever hold your peace!!

~*~

Speaking of peace, may the Holy Father, John Paul II, be greeted with open arms as he enters the Kingdom of Heaven. The world has lost a great man and a great humanitarian. May the College of Cardinals do their best to elect a new pontiff who will continue John Paul's work.

Thank You, Dear Readers

2005-03-30T18:03:00.000-05:00

Just a quick post for the moment to thank those of you who've left comments with your suggestions for pain management ... The Vicodin is gone and the chiropractor can't prescribe drugs so I'm suffering with Motrin ...

I've got an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon on the 20th of April so hopefully he can do a more extensive exam and give me some viable options ...

Good (Grief) Friday

2005-03-25T12:50:00.000-05:00

Well, well my little chickadees. Here it is, Good Friday, a high holy day for Catholics. Nothing but church and food for the next three days!

Unfortunately, yours truly ruptured a disk in her back and is in more pain than I've ever experienced in my life. So, with an ice pack on my back, a venti Peppermint Mocha in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I thought I'd blog for a moment.

Life has been pretty stagnant if you consider 11-hour work days and no time to myself, stagnant. This back thing has totally thrown off my life but I'm maintaining.

I'm working on updating this here blog and am toying with a new name. Don't rightly know why, just something to keep my mind occupied I guess. I've got a list a mile long of blogs I need to "recommend" but I'll have to get to that later. Right now, I need to take a nap after taking a handful of Vicodin.

Happy St. Patty's Day

2005-03-17T19:22:00.000-05:00

Blogger has been difficult to get into the past few days. Consequently, the lag between posts. But, before I return to BG, a couple of things have happened in the world which I feel compelled to comment on.

First - Former "Baretta" star, Robert Blake was acquitted of the murder of his wife. I don't have an opinion as to his guilt or innocence but I'm glad he got off. The man has aged considerably since going to jail, as I'm sure anyone would. Now he's a free man who can return to his life or what's left of it.

Second - Rat-fuck Scott Peterson is now ensconced on San Quentin's Death Row after receiving a sentence of death for the murder of his wife, Laci and her unborn child, Connor. As with any defendant who receives the death penalty, there is an automatic appeal but, since California is notoriously slow in carrying out death sentences, it could be decades before the prick actually dies. My heart goes out to the Rocha family on their double loss.

Third - Michael Jackson is on trial for child molestation. Let's face facts, folks. The man's a pedophile who likes little boys. Cut his cock off and be done with it.

End of Rant

As you might have noticed, I've been pretty scarce this year. Part of it is due to ungodly hours at Black Rock. Part of it is I've been working to update my website which I won't mention specifically. Suffice to say, it's been well over two years since I touched it and it's in desperate need of a face lift. The rest is a genuine case of old-fashioned laziness. I didn't start blogging for other people. I started blogging for myself but I find it comforting to know there are a few visitors now and then. Then it seemed the visitors dried up. If I wanted to hear myself "talk", I'd talk but it's far more therapeutic, for me at least, to write.

Since we last spoke, I've seen my psychiatrist a few times. After careful testing, I'm happy to report I am not ADD or AD/HD. Now it seems I might have a gender identity problem. No, I don't want to grow a cock but I wouldn't be upset if one magically appeared. I guess I just don't like being a girl and apparently haven't for quite some time. We began discussing my incestuous fling with a family member but time ran out. Hopefully, we can go back to it next month.

And running around in the background of all this is BG, the love of my life, my best friend, my confidante, my other half. We've begun to have frank conversations again but not nearly enough to suit me. I did promise him I'd keep my nose out of his bedroom and am doing my best to keep that promise. I guess that's why we started talking about his extracurricular activities.

Of course, he never came right out and said he loves the no-strings attached blowjobs but after I put two and two together and called him on it, he just laughed. For a woman of above-average intelligence, sometimes I just don't get it. So now, instead of dreaming of him fucking the hell out of BGP, I see him sitting in a steam room, towel carelessly thrown over his lap. I see a hunk of a stranger approach him and tentatively stroke BG's cock through the towel. When he's not rebuffed, the stranger grows bolder, reaching under the towel, caressing, squeezing and playing with BG's semi-rigid cock. I see the stranger down on his knees, kissing the inside of BG's thighs, hands roaming over BG's chest. I see the stranger begin to tease BG's cock to life, slowly at first then more aggressively. The stranger starts deep throating the growing cock as BG grasps his head in his hands and begins to fuck his face in earnest, finally shooting a load of gooey come down the stranger's eager throat.

My only question is this - will only a man's mouth do? Why can't I go down on him? Because we all know, given the opportunity, one of us would chicken out, probably me. It is said sex wrecks a friendship. I can't attest to the truth of this statement but have a feeling, in this case, it might be true. So, BG and I continue to "play" with each other.

Well, there it is for now. Nothing much ever changes in my life but I do have some very bizarre thoughts continually running through my head. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?!

Oh My God!

2005-03-14T10:21:00.000-05:00

There comes a time in every relationship when you learn something about the other person that blows your mind.

BG and I appear to be back on the same wavelength but after months of talking, it finally hit me. We've been discussing oral sex, cruising guys and other gay sex practices. He's dropped enough hints but it just now dawned on me that he's a whore for "lewinsky" sex. That's right, readers, my mild-mannered, upstanding, monogamous gay best friend, loves to have his cock sucked whenever possible. This revelation doesn't necessarily disturb me. Rather, it puts him in a different light. I know he's an exhibitionist but instead of taking his sexual frustrations into his own hands, he gets random men to suck his glorious cock. It explains why he's always going to the gym. It explains why he and BGP make a few annual trips to gay Mecca. It explains so much.

I've got more to say on this but being at Black Rock makes uninterrupted blogging a bit prohibitive. More when I get home tonight.

Back from Hiatus ...

2005-03-01T00:32:00.000-05:00

but not with any certainty.

Much like everything else I do in my pathetic life, I find a challenge, conquer the challenge and then lose interest. Blogging has helped me but reading everyone else's blogs has helped more. I'm going to attempt to get back into the swing of things and be more proactive about posting but don't hold me to it.

During my two-month-absence, a few bloggers have gone on winter hiatus and a few bloggers have left the blogosphere altogether. I'm saddened Geekslut and Billy at Wet Dreaming have called it quits. Hopefully, they'll return one day. Also, Bloggers with Boobies has been laid to rest although you can still find a link to the founder's site below. Quite a few bloggers are now on their own domains and all the links in the sidebar have been updated.

So, what have I been doing for the past 59 or so days? Working my fucking ass off and hating every damned minute of it! Ten-hour days at Black Rock are literally killing me and, because I'm such a fucking conscientious person, there ain't dick I can do about it. So, I suffer in silence ... literally. I shut everyone out and just get lost in spreadsheets and databases. But what about BG, you ask? Well, I wish the fuck someone would tell me what the fuck's up with him.

We don't talk anywhere near as much as we used to partly because we're both swamped but, on a more fundamental level, something's changed and damned if I know what. He's got me so fucking confused I'm lucky I know my ass from a hole in the ground right now. When I ask him what's wrong (because I'm naturally paranoid and I know I've crossed a line somewhere), he tells me nothing and I'm imagining things. I've decided to do my best to keep my nose out of his bedroom and I think the decision might have thrown him for a loop but HE DOESN'T FUCKING TALK TO ME so I don't know.

Other than work, I got back into tracing the family tree for a few weeks but that petered out. Then, I jumped back into cross stitch designing but that's losing its interest, too. Online gaming is losing its allure but not porn -- gay porn -- and lots of it.

I swear to God, I'm a guy trapped in a woman's body. There is nothing hotter in or out of bed than gay men. They are, quite simply, the coolest people in the whole fucking world!! BG does answer the multitude of questions I'm always throwing at him but I always want more and I don't know why. I watch gay porn the way some people watch football or American Idol. I scrutinize every scene. I watch every cock, every ass, every move, every blowjob as though I'm doing recon for NORAD and I don't know why. Okay, I can see BG in every porn I watch. I can see him sucking his partner's cock and loving every minute of it. I can see him fucking the living hell out of his partner's tight ass and, damn it, if my pussy doesn't start quivering and getting wet. Then my nipples get hard and begin to ache. Damn it, I want a cock in my mouth so fucking bad!! I want to be fucked seven ways from Sunday. I want to be eaten until my pussy is raw. But as all this glorious gay sex runs through my head, as my hands reach between my legs and start to tease my tiny, yet highly sensitive clit, I can feel the orgasm begin and start to build and build and build ... but I can't get off to save my fucking life. Motherfuck!!

Have I ever even had a damned orgasm?? I honestly don't know. What I do know is, if I'm horny enough and stimulated enough, there comes a moment where every muscle is my body goes taut and this intense rush comes over me to the point where I'm totally wasted, exhausted even. Is that an orgasm? If it is, I don't know how any woman can have multiples because, after one, I'm totally worthless. Probably why I've never gotten off with a partner. Let them get their enjoyment and once they're gone, I do it myself. Cheese and rice!!! Will I ever have a fucking functional sexlife? Will I ever find someone? Will I ever know what love is? Damn it all to hell!

Well, I think I've ranted enough for now. It's snowing like a motherfucker here on the North Coast and whatever plague has descend upon us has decided to take up residence in my head, my chest and my intestines. I need to try to get some sleep. Drop me an email or leave a comment. I've missed hearing from anyone!

Happy 2005

2005-01-03T19:31:00.000-05:00

Welcome to a brand new year. I pray it will be better in all ways than 2004.

I have lots to blog about the holidays but will leave that until later this week. For those of you who have been reading ttru (?), I've added the ubiquitous cast of characters to the sidebar. After I finished compiling it, I was amazed at the number of individuals I've mentioned here the past eight months.

Now I must grab a bite to eat and get some much needed sleep. I haven't been able to keep my eyes open all day so, hopefully, I'll quickly fall into an uninterrupted slumber.

Out with the Old

2004-12-31T08:27:00.000-05:00

Well, here it is, the last day of 2004. I, for one, sincerely hope 2005 is much better.

Christmas this year was a total clusterfuck. From dealing with my grandparents to dealing with the immediate family to dealing with Bro4's former spouse, I haven't had a moment's peace. Add to this a killer snowstorm which dumped over two feet of the white shit on the ground and you've got one very unhappy woman.

I might write again later but did want to make one final 2004 entry and wish my readers (?) a very Happy, Healthy and Prosperous 2005.

Counting Down

2004-12-23T00:14:00.000-05:00

Well, it's the day before the day before Christmas on the North Coast and what better way to start the season than with a fucking snowstorm. Actually, it's the second snowstorm of the season. The cold bitch known as Mother Nature has dumped upwards of 12 inches of the white shit since early Wednesday morning. Of course, she isn't happy with just dropping snow. No, she's got to go for the whole ball of wax. Temps are rising which is turning the snow to rain which will then freeze when the temps drop again which will making getting into work in about six hours unfuckingbelieveable.

Tonight (Thursday), I'm supposed to accompany my nieces and their mother on a carriage ride around the city. Yeah, like that's what I want to do. Christmas Eve will be spent taking my 86-year-old grandfather to church then to dinner then to the nursing home to see his wife, my grandmother. Then I've got to get him home and make sure he takes his meds before I can even begin considering doing anything else. And why do I get to spend all this quality time with the old folks? Because "single people don't have plans on Christmas Eve" don't you know? Bull fucking shit. I had to cancel plans for Friday because my uncle and his daughters are too busy with their respective families to spend time with Grandpa and Sis is the director of the children's Christmas pageant so she can't do it either. So, for the first time in 40 years, I will not be spending Christmas Eve with my immediate family. This fucking sucks!!!!

I hope your holidays go much better. I wish all my readers (what? all one of you?) a very Merry Christmas. I hope Santa's good to you cuz I have a feeling he's gonna shit on me too!

Justice for Laci and Connor

2004-12-14T21:26:00.000-05:00

It was to be a very special Christmas for the Rocha and Peterson families. Laci Denise, 27, was due to deliver her first child, a son to be named Connor, February 10, 2003. From all accounts, Laci reveled in the glow of impending motherhood.

But, early on Christmas Eve, 2002, something happened to Laci and Connor, something horrible. In all likelihood, an argument with her husband, Scott, resulted in him strangling or smothering her. He then loaded her body into his truck, drove it to San Francisco Bay and, weighing her down, dumped her into the ocean. Apparently, the argument stemmed from Scott's confession to Laci that he'd been having an affair since October.

A nationwide search for Laci began that night and continued through the new year.

On January 28, 2003, Laci's husband is interviewed by Diane Sawyer. During the interview, he wept as he talked about Laci but when asked point-blank if he murdered her, he laughed, as if the possibility Laci's dead is ludicrous.

On March 5, 2003, Modesto, CA police reclassify Laci's disappearance as a homicide.

On April 13, 2003, the remains of a baby are found along the shore of San Francisco Bay.

On April 14, 2003, the badly decomposed remains of an adult woman are found along the shore of San Francisco Bay. DNA tests later confirm the remains to be those of Laci and Connor.

Laci's husband, Scott, is the prime suspect from the beginning, as is any spouse in this type of disappearance. Search warrants of the Peterson home and Peterson's fertilizer warehouse yield damning evidence against the salesman. Surveillance and wire taps allow police to keep tabs on the suspect until his arrest on April 18, 2003.

After much legal wrangling, the case of The People of the State of California vs. Scott Lee Peterson begins on March 4, 2004 with jury selection. Seven months later, on November 3, 2004, the case is given to the jury of six men and six women. On November 12, 2004, the jury returns its unanimous verdict: guilty of first degree murder of Laci Denise Rocha Peterson and guilty of second degree murder of Connor Peterson. Because he is convicted of first degree murder and one or more crimes of first or second degree murder, the verdict came with special circumstances making Peterson eligible for the death penalty.

The penalty phase of the trial began on November 30, 2004. Jurors had two choices for Peterson's fate: either life in prison without the possibility of parole or death. On December 13, 2004, the jury recommended death.

The judge in the case will formally sentence Peterson on February 25, 2005 at which time, he will be transferred to San Quentin State Prison in Marin County, CA. Currently, there are about 600 inmates sitting on death row, 5% of whom have been locked up for 18 or more years. It's almost poetic justice the prison overlooks San Francisco Bay.

This case, and others like it, breaks my heart. To love someone who returns that love by killing you is utterly unthinkable. And to take the life of your own child is unforgivable. I'd like to be there when Peterson is gassed or given the lethal injection (it's his choice). Personally, concrete anchors should be tied to him and he should be thrown in the San Francisco Bay, just like he did to Laci.

The bastard hasn't showed any emotion since reporting Laci missing in 2002. Photos show him smiling at vigils and doing other completely inappropriate things; things a grief-stricken and innocent man wouldn't do. Even as the verdict and the penalty were read, he remained stoic and expressionless. I believe he really thought he'd get away with it.

RIP Laci and Connor. You are loved and missed by your family and friends. Look down on them, watch over them and help them to heal.

The Spirit of the Season

2004-12-07T21:15:00.000-05:00

Christmas is the time of year for family and friends but, as we all know, many men and women will be away from their families this year. The men and women of the US military won't have a white Christmas, there will be no chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost won't be nipping at their noses.

I am, perhaps, the biggest Scrooge you will even meet. I've got no use for the commercialism of the season but I know the meaning of Christmas. In that vein, I've added links to a few organizations helping to bring the joy of Christmas to our troops. Please consider visiting the links to the left and sending a care package or dropping a note of good cheer.

I know first hand how appreciated "gifts" from home are during the holidays. Three of my four brothers served and could not find the words to express their feelings at receiving a little touch of home when they were away.

God bless you all!

~~we now return you to your regularly scheduled bitchfest~~