Off for the weekend in the morning
Current mood: thoughtful

You all know that we're heading for the Shadow Lane party in Vegas in the morning, so there won't be a CHoS tomorrow. But I do want to mention this one: Some guy I don't know wrote to me and asked if I was bringing my beautiful bottom to the party. I couldn't resist; I replied, "Yes, and I'm bringing the rest of me, too." Sheeesh. (To his credit, he did write back to apologize.)

Might as well get the not-so-good news out of the way -- in a case of spectacularly bad timing, I have come down with a cold. Not that big a deal, but I'd certainly rather be without it. It could be worse; if I'd gotten an intestinal flu instead, forget about it. Or if I had injured myself and couldn't play. But I can function with a cold. I'm bringing an entire freaking pharmacy with me. I can't get rid of the damn thing, but I can attempt to keep the symptoms at bay. It might end up being a bit more of a low-key weekend, but I'm sort of anticipating that anyway, and that's OK.  I just want to get there already.

So anyway... all my clothes are pulled together and ready to pack. Three evening outfits, several pairs of shoes, shorts and tank tops for during the day, and of course, lots and lots of panties. Camera and battery charger. Bottled water and sodas, and various snacks -- cookies, grapes, peanuts, and of course, chocolate. Toiletries -- makeup, hair stuff, razor, lotion, etc. Printed out Google directions (of course, J will insist on using a map anyway, because he's a guy). Freshly pedicured toes. CDs for the drive. Cash for the party tickets. I think I've got it all accounted for.

I spoke with D -- he fixed the glitches on the DVD, so now we are ready to move ahead. We'll talk about it more next week, after I get home from the party; I am really jazzed about it.  I told him today that being at the party without him will feel like I'm missing a limb. Damn stupid money... actually, I'm cursing the lack of it. The best things in life are free, my ass. Oh well... things should be better for him by the next event, because of his new job.

We'll be back sometime Monday afternoon. I promise I will blog as soon as humanly possible, and start my party report. I know at least one person who will have a laptop with her and I suppose I could check in, but it will probably do me good to break my computer addiction for a couple of days.

So I'll leave you with a couple of pictures. Check out my beautiful anniversary roses:

Aren't they lovely? Our anniversary is Saturday, so we'll be able to share a dance that night in the ballroom.  

I'm going to be a bit naughty and post another pic from the DVD -- I hope the spanking police don't bust me!

Ouch... and that's still toward the beginning of the video!

I hope everyone has a happy, fun and safe holiday weekend! Talk to you Monday.

4:07 AM - 15 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... finally.........
Current mood: relaxed

D made it over this time, for real. He brought the DVD. We played. Good things come to those who wait.

First thing we did when he showed up was watch the DVD. It's a demo copy, and he needs to do a few more little fixes before it's finalized and duplicated, but it's all there, and I was so jazzed to see it in its entirety. Wow. A fantasy come true, right before my eyes, D and I on screen together.

Anyone out there who thinks I talk too much and get spanked too little in my videos will certainly enjoy this -- holy moly.  I was watching myself get whaled on and I couldn't believe it was me. And I couldn't stop giggling at our lines. I won't give away too much, but we had some great adlibs. One of my favorites: "I'm giving you 12 more. You're going to count them, because I'm busy."

I can't go without mentioning this -- one of the little glitches D has to fix for the final? The big dummy misspelled his own name in the closing credits!  I saw that, and I howled laughing. He blustered and said, "Oh, who cares, it's a made-up name anyway," and I said, "Yeah, but it's your own screen name, you idiot!" LOL! I mean, that would be like Chelsea Pfeiffer spelling herself as Chelsea Pfieffer, in her own videos. Other people will inevitably misspell names (I still don't know why he chose such a funky spelling of Chrighton), but you should be able to spell your own name right, for heaven's sake.  I'm getting a lot of mileage out of this one.

We went to dinner after a while. I almost always get the same thing so I don't have to look at the menu, but D has to peruse the whole thing and go through this ritual of, "Hmmm, what do I want, what do I want..." while I wait patiently. Oh, stop laughing! OK, not so patiently. Our server came by and asked, "Do you need more time?" I rolled my eyes, pointed at D and said, "He does."

When she came by again, he burst out, "OK, I'm getting the blah blah blah." I smirked at the server and said to him, "You're supposed to let the woman go first, dumbass." "Erica!" he snapped. "Oh, you are in so much trouble." He finalized his order, and the server looked at me, "And for you?" I blinked in surprise for a second, then said, "Oh yeah, I forgot... I haven't ordered yet!"

We got home... and guess who was sleepy? Oh, s***, here we go again, I thought. But it was still early, so I sent him into my bedroom to take a little nap while I went online. J called, and while we were chatting, D came out of the bedroom, so I called out, "Oh look, Sleeping Beauty is awake."

(do I push, or what?)

Long story short... he delivered. We broke our three-month fast. And I'd earned the wooden paddle with my big mouth. (sulk)  He threatened to make me write an essay on "How Erica should behave in restaurants," but he knows he's got a snowball's chance in hell of that ever happening.

I will miss him terribly at Shadow Lane; he's only been to three parties, but now I can't imagine one without him. And so many other friends aren't going; each day, I hear about another one. I guess this is the year where I have to stop falling back on familiarity and look forward to new faces (and hopefully laps). My dear friend C will be there and I can't wait to give her a million hugs. And J and I will celebrate our 12th anniversary while we're there. He sent me a dozen roses today, in advance, so I could enjoy them before we go away.

Anyway... once the DVD is cleaned up and we can finalize it and duplicate it, then we move on to the next step -- distribution. Stay tuned.

6:26 PM - 29 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Sunday night giggle
Current mood: quiet

Nothing new to report this evening -- the Olympics are over, the DNC is starting. Go Obama-Biden!  Dare I say it -- I'm supposed to see D tomorrow. He is taking a half-day off work so he can come see me. Very good news, especially since he can't make it to the SL party (heavy sigh).

Anyway, this made me laugh out loud, a bit of Olympics humor. Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

A very, very young Michael Phelps:

Swim, baby, swim! Hee hee.

4:30 AM - 12 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Rant 1,492... stupid names!
Current mood: pugnacious

I'm in the mood to go off on a rant today. You lucky people.

Why, why do people give their kids stupid names?  I'm not talking about ethnic/cultural names, ones that sound strange to Americans but are perfectly common in other countries. I'm talking about just plain stupid, overly cute, joke-y names.

Don't people realize that a person's name is their identity, and they have to live with it every single day, at least until they're old enough to legally change it? Do people forget just how incredibly mean kids are, and how they'll make fun of anything and everything? You can change/get around a lot of things, but your name is inescapable.

Let's start with celebrities, shall we?  What is it with these people -- do they think their kids are immune to ridicule?  Nicole Kidman just had a baby girl, and named her Sunday. Hello? Sunday is not a name. It's a day of the week. You do not name people after days of the week. OK, there was actress Tuesday Weld, but I'll bet that name was made up and her real name was Agnes Glitch or something like that.  And don't give me the example of Wednesday Addams -- she was weird. Besides that, she was a fictitious character. Sgt. Joe Friday? That doesn't count; Friday was his last name. Besides, he was fictitious as well.

Gwyneth Paltrow named her daughter Apple. Come on... that's not even pretty! And there's no saving nickname for it. Appie? I don't think so. And don't even get me started on Brangelina and the weird-ass names they give their kids. Their three sons' names all end with x. I think they've run out of x-ending names. What will they name their next son? Reflux? Ex-Lax?

The late, great Don Adams (from Get Smart) was married three times and had seven children. With his first wife, he had four girls, and they gave them nice, normal, alliterative names from the late 50s-early 60s era: Cecily, Caroline, Cathy and Christine. He and his second wife had two more kids, a boy and a girl -- they were named Stacey and Sean. Also quite normal. Then, with his third wife, they had a girl. They named her Beige. Beige?????  Beige is not a name. Beige is a color you paint your walls. They might as well have named the poor kid Dull. Or Boring. What were they thinking? At least they could have named her a pretty color, like Turquoise. Oh wait, scratch that. She'd go through the rest of her life known as Turkey.

Jason Lee (of My Name is Earl) named his son Pilot Inspektor. Yes, with a k. There are many more, but here's the one that really sets my teeth on edge. Rob Morrow (who was in Northern Exposure) named his daughter Tu. Tu Morrow; get it? Har har. He needs a swift kick in his southern exposure for that one.

But it's not just celebrities who give their kids stupid names. Once in a bookstore, I was standing in line waiting for a cashier, and a toddler wandered up to me. I smiled down at her and said hello -- she smiled back and said hi. I then asked, "What's your name?" She continued to beam at me, but didn't answer. I said, "Can you tell me your name?" Her mother then walked up and took her by the hand, grinned apologetically and said, "Her name is Holiday."

No wonder she didn't want to tell me. Sheesh.

There is a yoga instructor at my gym; her name is Chutney. I don't even know what to say about that one. Chutney is an Indian relish. What's her sister's name, Curry?

Here's some tips, people. For one, a first name is not isolated. It's a package deal with the last name, and they should sound good together. And by good, I mean pleasing to the ear, not funny good. If your last name is Barr, do NOT name your twins Clark and Candy. That's not nice. If your last name is Williams, don't name your son William. If your last name is Johnson, don't name your son John.

Rhyming names are obnoxious. Anyone remember Leave it to Beaver? Remember Lumpy Rutherford? The actor who played Lumpy was named Frank Bank. Don't do that. Actor Jack Black doesn't count; he chose that name. His real first name is Thomas. But if your last name is O'Neal, don't name your child Lucille. Or Shaquille.  If you're David Bowie, don't name your son Zowie (yes, he did this, but I think it's been legally changed).

And finally, it's all very well and good to respect your family members, but you don't have to keep giving everyone the same freaking name. Everyone deserves their own name, don't you think?  J has an older brother who is seventh in eight generations of the same name. When father and son are both in the same vicinity, how do they know which one of them is being addressed when they hear the name? Too damned confusing. Also, I can appreciate that you dearly loved your great-grandmother Bertha, but for God's sake, don't name your child after her. Some names worked in their generation, but sound ridiculous these days. Jews have a tradition of giving their children a name that begins with the same letter as a deceased loved one. Thank God for that. My mother named me in respect for her aunt Elsie.

When all else fails... give your kid a decent middle name, at least!

6:09 PM - 66 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

Spanking story from a friend
Current mood: mellow

My friend Coach A wrote a story about me a couple of years ago, and he asked if I'd post it for him. I don't get stories written about me every day (or ever, for that matter), so I was flattered and pleased to feature it. And yes, if you can't figure it out from the story, Coach A is a firefighter.

5:59 PM - 8 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

One of my more inspired moments
Current mood: pleased

Since the Shadow Lane party is less than two weeks away, J got this bright (!) idea that I need to "practice" for the party and get toughened up. Yeah, right. So yesterday morning, he thought it was a good idea to spank me with his freaking hairbrush, right from the get-go, no warmup.

I hate his hairbrush. It's not the standard oval, paddle-shaped brush that covers a broad area. It's rectangular and smaller, and thicker, and it hurts like hell. And it doesn't break. I've tried.

So I'm thrashing around, screeching at him, telling him to stop it, and he keeps going, saying "we have to get you warmed up for the party, don't we?" What's this "we" stuff??

As I continued to protest, he said, "This is for your own good, so you'll be prepared for the party. I think you should thank me." Say what?  In his dreams! I refused to answer that, and he insisted further that I say thank you. Well, you guys know that I hate saying "thank you" for being spanked about as much as I hate saying the "s" word, so I didn't comply.

He kept going. "Come on, it's just two words, say it!" So I said two words -- not the ones he wanted to hear, however. You can figure out for yourselves which words I said. He was not amused, and continued.

Then after another flurry, he said, "Don't you have something to say to me? It's so easy... just two words... and they start with 'th.' "

So I thought for a second, then blurted, "That's enough!"

He burst out laughing, and put the brush down. I had bested him.

I am brilliant, I tell you. (Modest, too...)

4:22 AM - 34 Comments - 21 Kudos - Add Comment

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 8/15
Current mood: amused

Here we are again. The idiots were prolific this week... and aren't you glad? Me too.

hey baby wanna trade nudes...i know im only 15 but i have a huge dick and the pics to prove it

Good grief... 15??  That's a new record, I think. Young man, what did your mother tell you about showing your penis to strangers? Now stop that wanking in front of your computer and go to bed -- it's a school night.

baby needs a nice glow on her bottom..!!!!!!!!!

Yes, baby does. But nobody puts baby in the corner.

heyyy Erica ( sexy ) can we b friends i was cumming 2 california soon and wanted 2 know if i cod cum by and giv ur ass a lil spanking if u and ur bf wodnt mind

You know, there are so many things wrong with this one, I don't know where to start. Then again, it's not as bad as this one:

hey my queen...
look,,for how long i should resist ..ur beauty..uhh????im dyin to spank u soo hard and make u sit on my face for hours!! ohhh...& suck & lick ur feet for years..i really want u!!? y dont u come? plzzzzz
i love ur age babe...wanna love u!!

We are not amused. Your Queen has spoken. We do not sit on faces, we sit on thrones.

And finally... you know how the Add Request thingamajig has an area where you can type in a message when you're sending the request? I got one last week that literally made me feel sick to my stomach. Sorry, but I'm not pasting it here. This guy wrote a list of things he wanted to do to me, in the most obscene and sadistic language you can imagine. He started it with:

You f***ing dirty old b****....

Excuse me? OLD? Now that hurt.

And get this... know what this guy's MySpace name is? Romeo!!  Yes, I know I don't reveal identities on the CHoS, but anyone who writes such filth to a total stranger doesn't deserve anonymity. Romeo, o Romeo, wherefore art thy head? Up thine ass?

On that note, I have nothing to add. Have a great weekend, y'all.

6:25 PM - 29 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Spanking Therapy
Current mood: relaxed

(second attempt to post this, as my last effort was gobbled by a computer freeze.  )

With all due respect to psychotherapy and pharmaceuticals (after all, I have partaken in both), I must say there are times when nothing calms my head and lifts my spirits more effectively than a good spanking.

I had an unexpected treat yesterday. A MySpace friend and I had been corresponding for a long time; he lives back East, but comes to L.A. periodically for business conventions. The last time he was here our schedules didn't jive, but this time we were able to plan to meet in person over coffee.

Since he was staying downtown, which is a nightmare to navigate traffic-wise and over 20 miles from where I live, we decided to meet halfway, at a coffeehouse right near the Metro station, so he could take the train there and not hassle with the drive. We met at 2:00, and got to chatting immediately. Sometimes, you can talk with someone online very easily, but when you meet in person, it's awkward and flat. Not so this time.

About an hour into our conversation, N smiled at me and ventured forth with, "So... might we have a play date?" (I should mention here that he is originally from England, and has that delicious accent that we spankees all seem to swoon over.)  Consciously, I had not planned to play, since we were meeting in a place nowhere near either of us. But I guess on a subconscious level I'd planned for the opportunity, since I was perfectly dressed for a session, and had nothing going on for the rest of the afternoon.

We thought about driving my car back to my place, then I'd drive him back to the train station later, but discarded that, since it was now after 3:00 and we'd hit the worst of traffic going and then coming back as well. He suggested we leave my car at the station lot and take the train downtown to his hotel. Worked for me.

So off we went on the train, which took us the 10 miles or so and then dropped us off in the heart of downtown. N then hailed a cab, which took us the extra 5-6 blocks to his hotel. Quite an adventure this was turning out to be!

Some of you may be thinking, "Jesus, she just met this guy, and she leaves her car, goes off on a train with him to a hotel -- not very smart!" I trust my instincts. I'd been talking with N for a long time, and upon meeting him in person, I knew I was dealing with a gentle and kind soul with whom I'd be perfectly safe. Besides, I was very much in need of some fun, and something different to shake up my doldrums. As it happens, my instincts, once again, did not fail me.

What a lovely, lovely time.   After discussing limits and so forth, we had a great scene, with a nice long warm-up by hand. Later, after I had thoroughly shocked him with my resilience, we progressed to hairbrush (no, I didn't break this one) and a belt. He also had this stick-like wooden thing, which he said was a letter opener. It felt a little like a mini-cane, pretty stinging. He was just verbal enough, had a great sense of humor, bolstered my confidence with wonderful compliments. And as the play deepened and intensified and we both grew quieter, I could feel all the tension flowing out of me, with each exhaled breath. My racing mind shut down and all I could think was, "More, more, more."

His technique was flawless and focused; somehow, I knew it would be.

Afterward, he kept me in position OTK, massaged me with some lotion, and we talked it up some more.  I'm not sure how long we'd been playing -- an hour, an hour-and-a-half?  Eventually, I had to reluctantly get to my feet and pull myself together; I needed to get home, since I knew J would be calling and I didn't want to worry him if he didn't reach me. (He wouldn't bother trying my cell phone; I never put the damn thing on.)

N was so sweet -- he took a cab back to the station with me and then took the train ride back with me, walked me to my car. I was pleased that he wanted to prolong the visit as much as I did. And when I went home, I felt calmer and more at peace than I have in a couple of weeks.

Nothing has changed -- my mother is still nuts, D is still MIA, I still have no work, J and I are still having our issues. But for that brief while, I didn't care. I forgot it all. And today, it didn't feel as all-consuming.

Damn, I love this thing we do. And I love my spanking pals! Thanks, N.

9:46 PM - 34 Comments - 17 Kudos - Add Comment

Fantasies becoming realities
Current mood: thoughtful

We all know about fantasies, don't we? Especially those of us in the various kinky persuasions. But how many of you have stepped beyond fantasy, and made your desires reality?

Granted, there are certain things we'll never be able to make real. Those ubiquitous (and ridiculous) threads on every freaking spanking board in existence, about which celebrity you'd want to spank, or be spanked by. I know I'm never going to be spanked by Cary Grant. For one thing, he's dead. For another, he and I didn't travel in the same circles, even when he was alive.

For non-kink-related fantasies, I know I will never be an incredible dancer or gymnast or anything graceful and agile like that. I'm simply too much of a klutz. And I will never go to a party, open up my mouth to sing and stop a room dead in its tracks, everyone listening to me in awe. I might clear the room, but that's different.

Some of us have dark fantasies that we wouldn't necessarily want to have come true, but they are still delicious to think about. I recently read about a woman fantasizing that a gang of boys would whip her, rape her and then kill her. I can't see how she'd actually want that to happen for real, but the thought of it was thrilling to her.

But what about the fantasies that lurk in your subconscious and eventually burst through into your consciousness, that you can make into realities?  That is, if you can work through the fear, the trepidation, the wondering if you're weird, what others will think of you if you voice your desires, etc.

I fantasized about being spanked for more years than I care to think about. I ached and longed for it, had dreams of it, wove elaborate scenarios in my head. But there was no fantasy in this world that was as satisfying as the day that bare-bottom spanking over a powerful and handsome man's knee became a reality for me. And I've been making fantasies come true ever since.

Some of these include: Getting spanked publicly at parties (check). Being in videos (check). Writing stories that people like (check). Self-publishing those stories (check). Writing scripts for spanking videos (check). Playing with certain people, like my first scene crush Keith Jones (check). Was I just very lucky... or did I have an extra drive, a burst of courage in each case that overcame my fears? Was it because I waited so long, and I was so hungry to experience everything I could?

Earlier this year, I shot my dream script with my dream partner. What's going to become of that particular DVD, I have no idea. But I got to do it.

A few of you remember me from the defunct MSN group, Southern California Spanked Wives and Girlfriends, and the ongoing fantasy I had for several years. For those who don't know -- I had a huge crush on an instructor at my gym, whom I was convinced was a spanko.

I wish I could post a picture of him here. Oh my god, he was gorgeous. And of course, since he was a gym instructor/trainer, he had a beautiful physique. But more than that, he had an exquisitely toppy demeanor, especially in class. He'd walk in at the beginning of the hour and holler, "You all ready to get your butts whupped?" I think I fell in love with him the day he came in and yelled, "Ah, come on, you guys, smile. It will only hurt for an hour."

He flirted with the women in his classes, myself included. He learned all our names, and called out suggestive remarks, often involving bottoms. Once when we were doing pushups, I guess my form sucked, because he called out, "Erica, get your butt out of the air, much as I love seeing it. You're not a TV aerial." Another time, he was especially hard on us with abs work, and I tweaked my lower back a little. As we lay on the carpet cooling down, I reached down and kneaded my back a little. He noticed everything, even in classes of over 50 people, and called over to me, "Erica, did you hurt your back, did I push you too hard?" I shrugged and said a little, but it's OK. He then said, "I'm sorry, baby -- I didn't want to hurt you. I just wanted to punish you a little." (groan)  The P word. I was glad the lights were turned down so he couldn't see me blushing from head to foot.

Anyway... I simply had to find out if he was one of us. The more I took classes with him, the more I was convinced. So I decided to hire him as my personal trainer, and now, along with one class every week, I worked out with him one-on-one twice a week, and we got to know each other. Very long story a little shorter, one day during our session, I outed myself to him.

Guess what? He'd never spanked a woman in his life. He didn't know anything about our scene. Granted, he was a butt man, and he thought it sounded kind of sexy and fun, but he wasn't into it. Just goes to show you -- people can be very good at talking the talk, but they don't walk the walk!

Still, he was interested. He asked a lot of questions. I told him about the parties, Shadow Lane, videos. I gave him web sites to look at. He threatened me constantly, gave me pats on the butt during our workouts, and I fantasized my fool head off. But nothing happened. This went on for years, literally.

Until right before my 45th birthday. He knew it was coming, and one day, as he put me through my paces, he casually asked when the date was, and I told him. How many years? he asked. Forty-five, I said. Hmmm, he said. You don't turn 45 every day. No, thank god, I replied. He added, "Maybe this would be a good time to give you that birthday present you've been wanting." I nearly dropped a weight on my foot. "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" Yup, he said, grinning very evilly at me. "Don't tease me," I said, "don't say something when you don't mean it." He insisted he did mean it, it was a good time for it, and he was curious.

Holy crap.

Yes, it happened. He came over the following week, on a Wednesday night. He brought some flowers, a bottle of Martinelli's sparkling cider, and a hairbrush. We talked for a while, and then we played. He was a natural. It was as if he'd been doing this for years. His demeanor was perfect, and his technique was amazingly good for a neophyte.

Interesting aftermath... he liked it because I liked it, and he enjoyed how I got into it. But it wasn't his thing. He didn't like the "hitting" aspect. As he put it, "When I see a gorgeous woman's ass in the air (yeah, he said ass... sigh), I want to kiss it, not hit it." Oh well. So a spanko wasn't born. But I still got my fantasy fulfilled, after persevering for years.

My point is... fantasies are wonderful. But realities are even better. You have something you want, really desire? Go for it. Don't wait for years like I did. Screw what society would think of it. What has society ever done for you?

No, I'm not talking about acting on pedophilic urges or anything that drastic. But so many people I've spoken with over the years feel shame and guilt over their kinks, and try to stifle them, ignore them, deny them. They pigeonhole themselves into vanilla relationships, and then feel like they're missing something. Many other friends have realized their fantasies and fulfilled them, and I salute them.

Who's made their dreams come true?

4:29 AM - 43 Comments - 29 Kudos - Add Comment

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 8/8
Current mood: whatever

It's Friday already! Thank God... it's been a sucky week. Now it's time for some fun.

gr8 legs, i enjoy looking at u!

You can look, but you better not touch.

r u still in bed well ask me in

I'm not in bed, but you must be, 'cause you're dreaming.

U ARE A HOTIE I WOULD LOVE TO KEEP U UP MISS LOL :)

What's a hotie?  Well, at least he called me Miss, not Ma'am. (sigh)

hi...well i read your about me and your who id like to meet and well im over 18 im actually 21 lol i think your really hot i gotta admit that, hope my mail wont get ignore:)

No, honey. Your mail won't get ignore[d].  Your mail will get feature[d] on the CHoS.

just wanted to say youre one hot 50 year old. i hope my woman (whatever woman im with then i mean) has a bod like her at your age!

OK, this makes no sense. You hope your woman has a bod like her? Of course she'll have a bod like her. Who else's bod would she have?

Interesting -- this guy's profile says "I love red asses in the air!" Hmmm. Are these asses attached to anything (like a person), or are they disembodied floating ass balloons?

Here's something that really irked me. I got a friend request on here, from -- get this -- Whores on MySpace. I go look at the profile, and all the friends are women in various stages of undress, in sexy poses. Excuse me? Just because you post pictures of yourself looking sexy, you're a whore? I'm not a whore, thank you. So screw you. I clicked Deny.

I admit, I'm peevish. It wasn't a good week, and I'm ready to say goodbye to it. The latest from my stepdad? My mother threw a fit at the home; she threw food at people, and she grabbed a mop from a cleaning area and was swinging it at anyone who came near her. They had to call 911 and have her taken to the psych ward, for yet another evaluation. What's to evaluate? She's nuts!!  Here's the good news -- at least my stepfather has completely let go of any notions of bringing her back home. After he told me this tale, I said, "Still want to take her home?" and he said, "Oh, hell no. You were right. She has to stay where she is." Ugh... at least he came to his senses.

I did see my former stepmother S again this week; that was a bright spot. She took me to visit an old family friend whom I haven't seen in about 11 years, someone I've known most of my life. She recently had a lung removed due to cancer, and I was expecting someone very frail, breathing laboriously, etc., but she was spry and positive and we had a lovely time. The things people have to overcome!  By the way, people -- if you smoke, for God's sake, please quit.

I have no idea if D will be able to come through for Monday. Meanwhile, I've had several email correspondences with spankers that have gone missing; they just stopped writing. Is it really so hard to dash off a few sentences?  People drive me crazy. Have I mentioned that lately? There seems to be so few whom you can count on, sometimes. For those whom I can count on, thank you. I am grateful for you.

Bitch and moan. You know, I have 103 subscribers to this blog now. Don't y'all get sick of the complaining?    Oh well... I suspect I'll feel a whole lot better when I finally get some special attention.  If nothing else, there is SL in three weeks. Although it seems like every time I turn around, I read/hear about someone I was looking forward to seeing, NOT going. That makes me sad. Dammit, I only get to see these people once a year.

Oh, and did I mention it's hot and humid?? BLECCCHHHHH!!!!

OK, I'm done. Honest. No, really. Have a great weekend, y'all.

6:45 PM - 23 Comments - 20 Kudos - Add Comment

Wow.... friends are wonderful
Current mood: grateful

Thank you to everyone for the messages and comments yesterday, when I was so down in the dumps. I even got two phone calls from friends out of state who were worried about me. That really touched me!

And no one told me to shut the hell up and stop feeling sorry for myself, that people are starving/losing their homes/fighting wars/etc. I know that. And I don't like it when I get like this. But I can't help it; it's in my chemistry and always will be. However, I know it passes. Writing about it is therapeutic and helps keep me in touch with people -- otherwise, I isolate and keep it all to myself.

Anyway... I got a good night's sleep last night and I feel a bit better. I'm going to attempt some retail therapy this afternoon. Maybe if I get something new and pretty, it will help me get past the pre-party insecurities.

So thanks, everyone. I appreciate your caring lots and lots!

12:09 PM - 15 Comments - 9 Kudos - Add Comment

New week, same old suckage
Current mood: depressed

Heard from D this morning; he didn't finish our DVD after all. And he can't come over, because he's got too much going on with work. He's sorry, and he'll make it up to me -- next week for sure.

Whatever. He said the same thing last week.

J and I went to visit my stepdad on Saturday. I thought now that my mother is in a nursing facility, he'd have some peace. But he's miserable -- he's riddled with guilt. He said she's just sitting in there, waiting to be taken home, and he feels terrible. The patients aren't allowed to make phone calls, only receive them, and yet my mother has managed on a couple of occasions to steal a phone from the front desk or wherever she is, and call him. Now he's saying he's thinking about bringing her home, hiring someone to stay with her 24/7, and he'll move out, go get a room somewhere. WTF?? He's 90 years old; he's going to move out of his own home? Get a room? Where? That's ridiculous. I told him please, please don't do that, she can't come home, she'll just do the same stuff she did before. He said he was going to talk to her psychiatrist and her social worker, and see what they say.

So, it was kind of a depressing dinner; he barely said anything. It did my heart good to see him eat a fried-chicken sandwich and drink a chocolate shake, though. My mother was always on his case about what he ate, and he would have never ordered that if she were there. She said she wanted to keep him healthy. Fat lot of good it did him.

The Shadow Lane party is three weeks from this Friday. You'd think I'd be looking forward to it, but I'm feeling my usual ambivalence about it. It doesn't help that J and I had one of our periodic my-scene-vs.-his-scene fights, where he says he's more accommodating of my kink than I am of his. Case in point: the Shadow Lane weekend. It's expensive (true), and it's a pain in the ass driving there (also true), and spanking isn't even his thing, but he goes to accommodate me. Of course, he back-pedaled on that, said he does enjoy going -- he likes to see our friends, it's good to get away, it's fun to see me so happy.

Too bad I don't believe him.

So I'm dealing with that, along with that damned negative voice in my head that says, "Why are you bothering to go? Save your money and time; if you don't go, no one will notice. And if they do notice, they won't care." Of course, my shrink's advice is to acknowledge the negative voice and reply to it, "Thank you for your input. Now fuck off."

Great. Now I'm talking back to imaginary voices. Move over, Ma. I'm coming to keep you company in the loony bin.

Damn, I hate it when I feel like this. It's so tiresome, and I know I sound tiresome too. It'll pass. Sure makes me understand why people drink, though.

9:22 PM - 26 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment