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Tuesday, September 30, 2008

work angst, potentially dangerous train incident

I was back at work today, struggling with a head cold (and possible stomach flu -- I'm waiting and watching). All was going fine, I was a tiny bit tired but in an overall okay mood. I brought chocolates from Ghirardelli for the office (this is an unwritten office rule -- if you go on vacation you must bring back a treat. A coworker had been to Edmonton so she brought back maple cream sandwich cookies).

Next thing you know, a bit after lunch we're called into a sudden meeting. The head boss tells us our coworker has been let go. She's gone; already off the premises. This was for nothing she had done and (allegedly) nothing to do with the budget, but simply because they want our internet presence to go in a different direction and they didn't feel her skills were what they needed.

We were all in shock, and none of us had any clue this would be coming. It's a tiny office and another person had been let go two weeks ago. THAT one was expected; he had been here less than a year and was generally considered not up to the job. Today's layoff happened to a woman we all liked a lot, someone whom I considered a highly responsible employee, a hard worker, and just a very nice person. Guess that's just not enough when you need to make changes.

I went back to my desk, immediately called her cell phone to offer support. Sigh. Wonder what's coming next...

After work, the 1 train was already on the platform as I was descending the stairs from 116th Street. I rushed to the nearest open door, and the doors began to close as I pushed through. Somehow, my glasses got knocked off. The doors reopened just then, maybe because of motion of my arm trying to grab the glasses. They fell and skidded toward the gap between the platform and the car.

There would be no saving them...

Now, these are not just reading glasses; I am extremely nearsighted and would barely be able to see my way home, not to mention the cost of replacement.

I ducked and snatched at them. They were right at the gap. I snagged them! The door was closing again, and bumped my head as I was standing back up. But I was inside the car, standing back up, glasses in place, breathing a little heavy. People were watching. I think I'd heard someone mutter, "Oh my god." (But it might have been me). There was nothing to say. That was a close call. A trim-bearded gentleman across the car from me who had witnessed this debacle raised his eyebrows to me, as if to say, "You were damn lucky!"

I raised my eyebrows back at him, responding with an unspoken, "You're telling ME?"

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Folsom Street Fair is insane!

A few photos from this afternoon:

sandy and les flogger
bound and tickled
zebra pulls cart
school girl paddling at folsom
sandy warm up at folsom
pony girl
male puppy

And a few mental images: An old guy, completely naked except for sandals, slapping sunscreen on himself. A lady in a suit holding a leash,leading a leather-clad man whose hands are cuffed to his sides. People, some partially naked, playing Twister on a stage. Men in chaps kissing. Lesbians of all types. A naked Elvis. Bootblacks at work. Public flogging, tickling, bondage, spanking, hair pulling. Pierced cocks. Men in frocks.

Did I forget anything? Oh, I'm sure -- there was too much to take in, let alone remember. Folsom Street is simply crazy.

You know me. I'm an exhibitionist and will try anything if it's legal (and sometimes not). Rad and I were dressed "normally" -- we weren't the only ones -- but I eventually found and bought a black tank top with a spoof on the M&M's logo ("S&Ms," it said, with a purple female M&M in corset). Cute.

I was spanked by Tatiana, flogged by a tough butch sporting a Mohawk, and finally strapped by Rad -- all for charity. I don't think I've played outside, in broad daylight with a crowd watching and taking pictures, before this.

Dolores, her friend Ralph, and Steffany from Shadow Lane with with us. We all had breakfast, along with Steve, also an SL member, who was a volunteer at the Fair. Stephanie Locke, Dana, and other SL'ers were supposedly there, but we did not connect.

The people were very friendly, but by 2 p.m. the crowd was getting rather thick. After Rad strapped me, we pushed our way out of there and walked back to the apartment.

We are done with our sightseeing; we're not planning on going anywhere else tonight except maybe for a little walk later to get dessert. Tomorrow, it's back to NY. Sigh.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Quickie

Dolores, our Shadow Lane friend, stopped by our studio after she left work yesterday (we are staying in a studio apartment while we're in San Francisco). I made us all dinner and we watched the debates together. That was a lot of fun. There was much cursing and shouting at the TV. Nothing like politics to bring friends together.

What do you think of this? One of the tackiest souvenirs I've seen in a long time!



But I bought it for my brother. He'll love it!

We are exhausted. I dragged Rad to the ocean today (we hadn't seen the beach here before today) but I felt bad afterward because he was very tired, yet didn't want me to go alone. It was nice, but too chilly even to want to dip our feet into the water. We sat on a towel and watched the surfers. All I did on the bus ride back was read the paper, to see what the San Francisco Chronicle thought about the pending financial bailout and the debates. Barely even looked at scenery. I think we're almost vacationed out. I do miss my cats and, not that I want to go back to work, but, I am looking forward to getting home on Monday.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Inpromtu play party

On Wednesday night our friend Shelayla from Shadow Lane hosted a dinner party for us and some other friends, in her house north of San Francisco. Bella, also of Shadow Lane, picked us up and drove us there. There were about eight people there, four men and four women.

Oddly, Rad was the only male top and Bella was the only non-switching female bottom. Shelayla played matchmaker and Ms. Cassandra was called upon to top three very different male subs. Meanwhile, since Rad and Bella know each other and have played before, he spanked her. Near the end of the night Ms. Cassandra closed up shop and let Sandy back out to play. Rad took me off into a bedroom, spanked me and flogged me, and then ended by picking up Shelayla's frat paddle and paddling me hard over my jeans. mmm. Very nice.

Our host cooked a delicious pork tenderloin with cous-cous. Guests Richard and Marie contributed a mixed greens salad fresh from their garden with homemade dressing (mmm). We brought crusty herb bread and olive oil we'd bought at the Ferry Building (an upscale waterfront shopping area) in our exploring on Wednesday, others brought drinks. Dinner and conversation were wonderful before the play began.

It was nice to meet interesting new people and hear new takes on play (Marie described some very elaborate role plays she's done in the past, such as one where she dressed as a nun and took confessions). And it was great to see Bella and Shelayla again, since they'd been unable to make the last Shadow Lane party.

Over the weekend, we plan to hook up with other Shadow Lane friends, some of whom will be our tour guides for the Folsom Street Fair on Sunday.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Some musings on the scene



Not too much to say this morning. San Francisco is cloudy. We need to do laundry after we've had some coffee and breakfast. We're still perusing the Frommer's guide book, deciding what to do today. We might hit Haight-Ashbury. Or go walk across the Golden Gate.

Being on vacation is a great time to spend together, but I've found you have to be with someone you really LIKE because there's always got to be compromise. I love hiking, and I fear I subjected Rad to a bit too much of that over the first couple days of our trip. Yesterday in Muir Woods was no exception. On the other hand, I think he LIKES seeing nature that, as a city boy, he never explored much. So I'm guessing that "going along with the hike" to humor me or to be with me is ultimately something he likes. I still have to watch pushing too much for stuff I like to do, and listen and do stuff HE likes to do.

I'd like to bicycle across the Golden Gate bridge, go back up to Marin County, and take the ferry back (something they suggested in the guide book). But it's a sixteen mile ride, and Rad's not really into that. But, maybe tomorrow, Friday, or Saturday I can do it by myself (they also have guided group tours available) and Rad can go explore something else.

Meanwhile, on our travels here and there and at night in the room, we have running conversations about the scene and our role within it. Last night we discussed Doms who are not husbands/significant others. Can the emotions that arise in a Dom/sub relationship coexist with a committed relationship? What about the egos of both the men? The Dom wants to be in charge and in control. The husband feels someone is messing with what is "his" -- someone is stepping into his turf.

I don't know if it's a huge issue for me but it's an issue, because I do like the idea of following someone's orders. Rad DOES issue orders once in a while, but we don't have a domestic discipline (or a Dom/sub or a Master/slave) relationship by any means. To be honest, I'm more into punishment for disobedience than the actual obedience. I'm not very submissive over the long haul. (I like temporary submissive scenarios).

If I had a Dom outside of my marriage, it couldn't be full-time in any way that would conflict with my primary relationship. For instance, if a Dom called me up or emailed and told me to go stand in the corner -- while I'm sitting at home with my husband -- it wouldn't be possible. On the other hand, it could give him license to punish me next time he saw me. I don't know. It's a delicate balance. Rad is my "Daddy" and I like the way that feels.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Seals, hills, rocks, inspiration






Just wanted to share a few pictures we've taken along the way. The rocky coast shot is from Pt. Lobos National Park, the seals were on a dock in Santa Cruz, the closeup of the quote is from the guestbook at the Henry Miller Library in Big Sur, and the poetry section and the shot of yours truly are from City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco. I'm a fairly big fan of the Beat poets and writers, especially Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. Lawrence Ferlinghetti, one of the Beats, founded City Lights. It's a three-story, quiet little place that still holds poetry and book readings regularly. We are staying less than half a mile away so we walked up last night. I bought books at the Henry Miller Library on Sunday and I don't want to carry too much home, so I resist the urge to pick up more. As a writer, I feel simultaneously awed, humbled, and antsy while browsing shelves. The feeling tends to come over me -- do I have anything to say myself? Is my story interesting enough to share? Do I have the imagination to embellish where I need to embellish (and I have no qualms about embellishing -- hello, James Frey, best seller?).

Surprise -- San Francisco is hilly! What, you say? You didn't KNOW that? Yes, of course I knew that! I just didn't realize HOW hilly. Holy cow, this is worse than a Stairmaster! There's a Starbucks (which we haven't seen since coming to California -- at last, civilization!) two blocks away that we'll probably have to take a cab home from. All right, I'm kidding. Sort of.

Today we visit Muir Woods (home to old redwoods), Point Reyes National Seashore, and Sausalito. Getting to see more SL friends tomorrow night.

Off on our next adventure -- will check in later.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Vacations wear me out!

Oh, boy. Lots to talk about but don't want to bore anyone to death. We have just finished our whirlwind tour of Big Sur, arrived this afternoon in Santa Cruz, and I've just now woken up from a much-needed nap.

Henry Miller Library was our first destination; turned out to be closed yesterday day for a wedding reception! So we simply checked into hotel, ate dinner, watched sunset over Pacific Ocean, and fell asleep by 9 p.m.

We aren't on vacation to play, but I had sneaked two toys into my bag just in case... Today I'm (quietly) celebrating seventeen years since I quit drinking. This morning, since I didn't have time to celebrate in any traditional way, I asked Rad to give me seventeen with the liquid cane, that nasty rubber thing. I loved the afterglow as we were driving...

We hiked for an hour in the morning, finally got to see the Henry Miller Library, drove north and had lunch at a restaurant called Rocky Point, with an incredible view of the Pacific and the rocky shoreline below. Oddly, we encountered yet another wedding there. A few miles north, we explored Point Lobos, where we hiked all over the rocky coast, saw many seals on the rocks below, and generally wore ourselves out. Hence the need for a nap.

We are meeting Shadow Lane friends George, Fireman Chris, and Sparkle for dinner in about an hour. Tomorrow, we explore Santa Cruz and then it's on to San Fran! We have internet access tonight and we are supposed to have it where we're staying in the city, so I'll try to keep up here as best I can.

First of all, a correction

In reference to yesterday's blog, I must have been working too hard, because this was NOT our first vacation since our honeymoon, but our second. We went to Colorado last year, and I'm embarrassed because we had wonderful hosts, M&K, and they must think we're terribly rude to have forgotten that...

In my defense, I still feel very new on my job and was thinking that I'd only taken long weekend trips over the last year or so. SORRY!! (already emailed M&K to say the same thing)

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Off to the wild west!

A quickie post here before we head out for the airport. Rad and I are off to San Francisco today for a full ten days of vacation. This is I think our first real vacation since our honeymoon; we've taken a lot of long weekends over the past year or so (somehow they seem to revolve around spanking parties) but not a full week or more. We are going to drive south to Big Sur this afternoon, where I want to see the Henry Miller museum (I'm a big Henry Miller fan), and do some hiking in what is said to be a very gorgeous area. Sunday we'll drive up to Santa Cruz and spend a day there. We are not avoiding our spanking "roots" entirely as we're having dinner with some SL folks in Santa Cruz.

On Monday we drive to San Francisco to stay for a week. We rented a studio apartment through vacationrentals.com that is in the heart of the city and cost less than half what a hotel would have. We have no itinerary except for a tour of Alcatraz on Thursday night, and, oh, yeah, we're going to the Folsom Street Fair next Sunday (again meeting SL folks for tour guides).

Our cab arrives in about 15 minutes so I'm signing off. Will try to blog periodically during the trip.

Friday, September 19, 2008

My big squishy New York family

The downtown buses in the morning are NEVER the tightly packed smaller buses that we midtown riders seem to be subjected to. I watch the large, comfortable Wall Street-bound QM1As pass by. Ten minutes later, an older, nearly full tiny bus pulls up, the 6th Avenue bus, which I need to take. I can't risk waiting for the next one; it's already nearly 7:30 a.m. There are no forward-facing seats left, and the sideways seats are already getting full.

By the time the bus leaves its last stop in Queens, every single seat is taken and six people are standing in the aisle. This is not a big deal on a cross-town bus, but this is an "express" bus that takes anywhere from forty-five minutes to an hour to get to the city.

I am smooshed between a thin, Chinese, New York Times-reading man and a squishy, blonde, crossword-puzzle-solving lady. I pull out a batch of stories I have to copyedit for work. I am not going to get irritible. I've had enough of THAT lately, haven't I? I'm slightly bugged at the MTA for not retiring these crappy uncomfortable buses, but beyond that there's no one to get upset with. We are all squished in here together, and, actually, this lady's soft wide butt feels kinda nice. Like a pillow! Yeah...

I get a lot of work done, finish editing three stories, before the Midtown Tunnel. I'm thinking I deserve a cup of Starbucks coffee (haven't had enough yet this morning) and a healthy treat. I settle for some Snyder's of Hanover pumpernickel and onion pretzal sticks. The bag says it's a "Delicious Wholesome Snack," so it must be all right.

I'll stop being a bad girl in a few minutes and start doing my work. By the way, I'm still feeling the sting in my left hand, where Rad smacked me with a wooden ruler before I left the house. I was asking for it... sigh.

Got ten minutes to waste?

You'll laugh...

All I can say is, thank god I quit drinking before YouTube.

Drunk fan at Shea Stadium falls victim to fans' prank

Sad thing is it's basically drunks picking on another drunk. They're putting half beers on the poor sucker's head but making damn sure they don't waste any!

Okay, I know this isn't a real blog. I'm cheating. I'll write something on the bus later. We're going on vacation tomorrow and I'm crazy getting work done before we leave.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Sky is falling, but I'm practicing patience

Sometimes patience pays off. The first R train pulled into Steinway Street station at about 8:17 a.m. packed to the gills. Ugh, no! Could I afford to wait? Would I regret waiting? I stayed on the platform. A few people had moved off the platform bench to the train, so I grabbed a seat, finished my Starbucks coffee, scanned the NY Daily News heads. Banks were failing, stocks were falling, and so was the sky in NY. More glass falling out of skyscrapers onto the streets. Bank of America building, ironically. I was unable to find the link, but here's the story:

"A real pane in midtown
"A glass panel on the Bank of America skyscraper in midtown fell more than 50 stories onto the street below and shattered, but no one was injured. General contractor Tishman Realty & Construction says no work was taking place at the site where the glass fell. The cause is bing investigated. A similar incident at the building in August injured two people."
(Story from August says three people) http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2008/08/12/2008-08-12_falling_glass_injures_3_at_midtown_manha.html

This is not funny. Again, it's in the block near where I wait for my bus home. 6th Avenue, from 42nd to 43rd (or maybe 44th), was closed. From 6th Avenue, our bus had to turn right onto 42nd, left on 5th, fight traffic and swing up 46th back to 6th to continue its route. The delay was annoying, but, I'm really worried about the reason. How much more greed and graft and cutting corners are we going to see in the city and in the country? I see greed as the primary reason for the stock market plunge and the economic mess we are in. I see the windows falling as directly related. Cheap putty? Cheap labor? A little something slipped into the pockets of someone to keep inspectors away? And the CEOs walk away from it all with a golden parachute while the rest scramble for part-time jobs at Barnes and Noble? Defenestration from the towers of finance with NO parachute this time! I didn't say that. I would NEVER advocate violence!

I like what columnist Michael Daly had to say this morning, too: http://www.nydailynews.com/money/2008/09/17/2008-09-17_another_major_crisis_and_as_usual_there_.html

Oh, so, yeah, my patience DID pay off. The next R train didn't take that long to arrive, and I got a door spot with no one touching me! Fantastic.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Fiction dredging up history

Last night, on the commute home, I finally finished reading I Know This Much Is True by Wally Lamb. I had started this book about two months ago but then put it down and started another book. I Know This Much Is True is a 900-page book and my version is hard cover. I was reluctant to carry it on the train, so it sat on my desk.

But about two weeks ago, I started reading it again and I decided to carry it to work anyway in spite of the bulk. Wally Lamb is such a great writer. If you've read She's Come Undone (not as big a book), you'll know what I mean. I Know This Much Is True deals with identical twins, the narrator and his paranoid schizophrenic brother. I won't say too much, but the themes that are arising in this book struck me deeply, enough so that I needed to discuss them with my shrink last week: How your family defines you. How much responsibility you must take for your family. Biology vs. upbringing. Personal responsibility -- how your actions affect others.

It's all about family, and this dredged up past and present thoughts of MY family, where there was a lot of anger, a lot of rage, as we were growing up. My dad was randomly violent and my older brothers got a lot of that; we did, too, but they got it more often. There was a pecking order; my brothers would turn the tables on the younger kids. I remember getting beat up a lot.

But I wasn't innocent. I passed it along as well, picking especially on my younger sister, doing cruel stuff to her in retaliation for her tattling or whining (that wasn't allowed, that wasn't part of our "code").

Beyond that, I had to watch her receive more than her share of my father's anger. I would watch it unfold, petrified that I'd be the next victim, as sometimes happened. I would wonder why she kept on talking, when she was obviously pushing him too far ... why didn't she see he was about to erupt? "Everyone" else knew pretty much when to shut up. For some reason, she couldn't shut up, and she always got it. I'd see it happen, or I'd hear the noise and yelling from upstairs.

I think about this a lot because I'm pretty sure my sister has some kind of emotional disorder. I don't think it's schizophrenia, but there's something there, and reading this book has made me wonder what part my own childhood cruelties played in how she turned out. There's no denying that the physical pain and fear I went through as a child affected me, too, and I'm doing my best to work through that and overcome it. My ventures into BDSM have helped me tremendously. Yes, I sometimes use it as therapy.

But I can't deny that I too caused pain to someone else. How does one makes amends? My sister and I do not get along all that well. We skirt around the edges of a relationship. I don't do the best I can. She make me uncomfortable, it's hard to talk to her, and I tend to avoid her.

I loved the book, by the way (glad I don't have to lug it around anymore), but not sure I like this sudden introspective look at my past. I'm wondering if I really need to reach out to her more, to try harder.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Dreams -- do they mean anything?

Having weird dreams lately, since just before and after the Shadow Lane party. First I dreamed I was in a Stephanie Plum novel (Janet Evanovich) and I WAS Stephanie Plum, but for some reason I was working as a supermarket cashier. Then I dreamed I was hanging out with Erica Scott, her boyfriend J., and some other SL characters. I think we were making a spanking movie, but the details are hazy.

Then I had a mini-nightmare. The other night, just after falling asleep, I dreamed Rad and I were on the highway on our way to work. I believe we were on the Cross Island Parkway, in the right lane, about to exit onto the Grand Central. Traffic was heavy but was moving at a fast enough pace. There was an SUV in front of us.

Suddenly the driver's side door of the SUV opened. I saw the driver (who was dressed in black) start to lean out of the car, like he was about to jump out. Was he going to kill himself? We were RIGHT behind his car and there were cars to the left. He was going to get hit, smashed, at the very least bounced around. We were going to hit him! And other cars were going to hit us. I saw him lean further out ... I screamed, "NO! FUCK!" ... started to brace myself ... and then I woke up.

I shook myself off, glad it was only a dream. Got up to use bathroom, then finally fell asleep again. The dream did not return.

Since our car accident in May, I've had one or two flashbacks. Was this a sort of flashback? Does this reflect a part of my own life? Is someone in my own life crying out for help? Do dreams mean anything? It's disturbing.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Drop your pants

I had a support group meeting on Sunday evening and when I got home, Rad teased me about whether I'd discussed with the group the marks still showing on my bottom from Saturday's play.

I was wearing shorts, so I promptly unbuttoned them and began to peel them down. "Yeah, this is what I did. I stood up and shared all about my punishment on Saturday." I wagged my bare bottom around at him, as if THAT was what I was doing with my group.

Rad started laughing. "Of all the women I've dated over the years, you're the only one who lets her bottom 'erupt' out of her pants at a moments notice." That sounded rather disgusting.

"'Erupt'? I'm 'erupting'? Oh, so your exes were all so prim and proper?"

"Yes. They were REFINED ladies."

"Ha!"

"I barely saw most of them fully naked." Hey, not MY problem they had sexual hang ups! I knew his ex just before me didn't walk around naked.

I do admit nudity is not an issue with me, at least not any more. I used to worry about my body and its imperfections a lot more when I was younger. Didn't WANT anyone seeing me naked then. Now I don't care.

It's not like I walk around naked ALL the time -- I don't; I get too cold. I almost always wear t-shirts and panties to bed. I just like to exercise the option when it's practical (coming out of the shower, etc.) And sometimes I just like to flash my butt.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Good attitude adjustment

I had a full afternoon and evening of spanking and punishment yesterday. Woke up this morning very sore -- in a good way, of course. Really got what I needed. I am sitting on a padded office chair now, but we are heading to Barnes and Noble shortly for coffee and those wooden benches are going to be tough!

Started off in the early afternoon by hooking up with B. I was moody and emotional in the morning and almost canceled my visit because of my emotions (part of it was that time of the month; I always get down just before and/or the first day). I was glad I didn't cancel, because we were able to talk a little beforehand, and the severity of the session got me out of that mood. B. gave me a long bare-bottom paddling with a leather paddle, then a caning. It was extremely hard, delivered in sets, mostly of ten strokes each. He ended up giving me 125 strokes.

Later, at Paddles, it was OTK night. Rad really gave it to me good, using a strap, cane, riding crop, the leather carpet beater, his hand, and a wooden paddle. (Did I miss anything?) He said I was out of control with my angry blog last week and I had to control myself. I agree, and I'm already working on that.

I got topped by several more people, especially my switch friend, B. (different B.). I still needed punishment, and told B. that. He got REALLY tough with me and used about ten different implements. I had a hard time staying still for it, but he made me. We ended with a caning, then a paddling with a wooden paddle. Damn!

I am going to work on my attitude. I'm ALREADY working on my attitude. I swear! Ask Rad!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

New day

I popped my i-Pod bud out of my right ear on the train earlier. That had absolutely NOTHING to do with the view I was blessed with, inches to my left: A pair of lovely, tanned, long legs, a bright mini-dress halfway up her thighs. My my. I was listening to the Shins, declaring nothing would bother me this day. She was reading the Daily News and, Thank God, did not notice my sidelong glances.

We (Rad and I) ended the day yesterday with my punishment. He gave me fifteen with the cane. Not satisfied, he made me kneel, head down on the bed, and he gave me an additional six with the braided leather carpet beater. Was worse than the cane. I went to bed horny; we were too tired to do anything else.

We began the day to the classical music on the clock radio and the Fat Orange Cat scratching and banging on the bedroom door. We ignored both and made love ... rough, painful ... he did what he wanted to me and I took it, while he told me stories about the nasty things he will do to me later.

I was not thinking (and am trying not to think) about today's date. Nothing will go wrong today... Nothing will go wrong...


P.S. I think I've discovered one reason why I drank so much -- my rotten parents denied me high heels as a baby:
http://www.parentdish.com/2008/06/09/carrie-bradshaw-that-baby-high-heels-for-newborns/

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Zen and the Art of the F Word


Contains language unsuitable for most people.
(for further reference, see:
mansitters: http://gothamist.com/2008/04/02/seat_hogs_bewar.php
Pole dancers: http://gothamist.com/2007/12/10/four_women_pole.php
Pole HOGGERS: http://gothamist.com/2008/04/03/putting_pole_ho.php)

Bear with me here. This may be rough. The day did not start off well. First of all, I've got the wrong panties on. You think this is no big deal? Try walking around all day long with panties that only go half-way up your butt crack. These are spanking panties, not regular panties! Okay, I know what you're probably going to say -- don't get your panties all in a bunch! Har de har har.

And, yes, I was late leaving the house (part of reason I rushed the panty selection). I was six minutes late. So I'll be punished. F*** it; I need to be!

I really feel like cursing. No, my anger management "program" is NOT going well.

F*** you all, loudmouth bitches in Starbucks! Why are you talking so loud -- to cover up your inherent obtuseness? You're loud and boring as sticks! Shut up! And you, especially-loud-and-self-centered lady with the constantly screaming toddler -- could you stick a sock in her, too, before it's too late and she ends up like you?

F*** you, too, pole-leaning bitch on the R-train. The train's crowded. People gotta grab the poles. Kindly move your stinky polyester suit the f*** away from my hand. Oh, you won't move? You're too IMPORTANT? You were here first? How about a knuckle poking right into your back, then? You like that? Still won't move? I'll move then, and shove my bag up against you so I don't have to touch your arrogant skeeviness. Ugh, you make me ill, standing there with your eyes closed pretending to sleep. Another selfish bitch. New York really needs more of your kind!

And f*** you, too, my condescending bitch of a boss. Because of your perpetual inability to make a timely decision (but persist in meddling in minutiae), my work is harder than ever. What ever happened to that assistant I was going to get? Or that intern? Vanished -- poof! -- into the ether? No money in the budget? I don't get the promotion, someone is hired at twice my salary, but suddenly I have more work to do, more decisions to make, but oddly, still no authority! F***! F***! F***!

Ahh. Okay. I feel better now. A little, anyway. Thank you for letting me rant.

Maybe I need to get tied up, gagged and beaten for an hour or two. Hello? Anyone? Okay. Not just ANYONE.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Acting out?

I saw my therapist on Wednesday. Good timing, just after the party, and naturally she got an earful about both the good and the bad parts of the Shadow Lane party (see my post about "horny men" for some of the bad parts). The good far overshadowed the bad, of course.

My therapist is so great. She wasn't that familiar with the intricacies of BDSM before I met her, but she's totally open-minded and, beyond that, she's done a shitload of research and she asks tons of questions.

I was describing the particularly hard scene I did on Sunday night and she asked me, "Was it like 'obliteration' or 'transcendence'?" I looked and her and thought, "Wow!" As in, neither of these terms had been on the tip of my tongue, but I have to say those ARE good ways of describing certain scenes. The scene on Sunday? Mostly transcendent, with a healthy dollop of obliteration on top.

She also pointed out something that I've never really considered in all my years of public play. I don't drink anymore, I gave that up nearly 17 years ago because I was out of control. I don't normally go to bars to unwind or to just hang out. I don't have a problem going to a bar for a good reason, but being sober around people who are getting drunk isn't really fun. You tend not to be on the same wavelength, as amusing as it can be sometimes.

A long time ago I had labeled spanking as "my drug of choice." I consider it a safe addiction, as long as I maintain a balance with other areas of my life (not doing TOO well with that this week!)

But the parties themselves, the dressing up, the multiple play partners, the occasional bratting -- this is like my acting out. This is my version of "partying." This is how I let loose, I let myself be free, get out of myself. And I am pretty, I am sexy, I am having the extreme reckless fun that I don't usually allow myself in my day-to-day life.

And you know, that's okay. Maybe that's why I crash a few days later, because I'm walking around in a state of euphoria for a few days.

You know, I have heard a few other people who have quit drinking say, "If I put anything into my body that takes me out of reality, then I'm not sober." I've even heard some people say they won't take aspirin or allergy medicine. Personally, I think that's ridiculous. I won't take medicine that has ALCOHOL as an ingredient, but in any other case, if I need medicine, I'll take it!

And when I need my spanking "medicine," damn straight I'm going to take it. Yes, it takes me out of reality. Then again, so does good sex. Or a hard workout. Or a great novel or movie. I guess what I'm saying is that sobriety does not equal stark-raving reality. I get STONED on my endorphins! I dare anyone to tell me that's not okay once in a while.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Well-behaved women?


Or should that say, "Badly behaved women have more fun"? Indy was wearing this t-shirt at Shadow Lane and said it was okay to snap a picture. I love it! I don't think I'll make history any time soon (except in the annals of spankology) but I intend to make as big a dent in my little corner of the world (and my ASS) as frequently as I can, and for as long as I can.

Hey, I want to be shuffling off to an SL party with Rad when we've both using walkers and forgetting our dentures.
Yes, I know no one really wants to picture THAT. I told Rad we'd be the couple where the husband's walking ten paces in front of the wife, and one of us (I guess we'll take turns) is yelling, "Shut up!" to the other.

We would NEVER do that! (Would we, Rad?)

By the way, I picked up a new bike tonight from a coworker who was selling hers. She gave me an extra inner tube, too. And I'm sitting there chatting with her, holding this tube in my hand, thinking all kinds of wicked thoughts... Yes, Rad DID give me a few strokes when we got home.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Attention horny men!

Please. I beg of you to listen.

If you're planning on attending a spanking or scene party in the near future, can you do the women a favor and please stop with the leering, drooling, and stalker-like behavior at parties?

A compliment is one thing and is always appreciated. Gawking at the same woman and telling her over and over and over how lovely she looks gets creepy.

Rubbing after a spanking is usually fine. Offering to rub someone after she's just
played with someone else is very strange. Commenting on a girl's butt, and pointing out the unique characteristics of said butt, is beyond disturbing.

Needless to say, TOUCHING a butt without asking (I heard a rumor this happened to someone at SL this weekend) is completely against not only the rules but all sense of decorum.

Being shy is one thing. Sitting at a table alone, not talking to anyone, and
staring at other people -- sometimes with what looks like a glare on your face -- is
scary.

I want to meet people. I want to play with people. I want new adventures. At this party, as at most SL parties, I met and played with brand-new people that I had not even networked with prior to the party. These were guys who came to the party as singles. See, you don't necessarily have to be on any "list" or be well-known in order to play. You really only have to behave yourself and be NICE.

As I've said before, I try to be a decent, giving, friendly person, but I'm not the Mother Theresa of spanking, nor am I a social worker. Eve and Tony aren't social workers, either. Please, learn to talk to people. Learn to socialize, with men as well as women. And knock off the touching, leering, glaring, and ultimately, pouting. People are starting to talk...

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Addendum on SL

I had neglected to mention others whose company I enjoyed this weekend: Brad (and good sport wife Cindy) of Maryland, M&K of Colorado, Dolores of San Fran, Jersey John, Andrea from Texas, Denise from NJ, Carolyn from Arizona, Jim and (the other) Sandy, BobDJ, Arthur, Tara, Danny the Salsa King, Mick/Santa Spanker, Richard Windsor of NY, Bailey of Colorado, Mija and Pablo, Jenny (Miss Chris' sub), Fireman Chris and Sparkle, Mike/River/Dana/ Sam and other bad boys, Ian and Laura, Andrew the photographer, HL and Sass, The Mike formerly known as New Mike, Cat, Naxie, Mir, Matt, James and Angie from the UK, and George from Santa Cruz.

Bonus party moment. If you know George you will appreciate this more. Paul and I were down in the casino close to 2:30 a.m. Monday morning talking with George. Someone or all of us used the "S" word one too many times before we realized that some gamblers were playing slots right behind us. I think I kind of pointed with my elbow in their direction, to hint that we should be quieter.

"Oh!" George said. "That was MOST indiscreet!"

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

SL party recap

My party report was starting to get too long, and I wanted to post some kind of wrap-up before it got to be old news, so I'm just going to hit on the highlights. I asked for most people's permission to use their names here; I didn't have emails for everyone, so if I didn't ask and you don't want your name used, I'll change it to an initial ASAP.

1. Camaraderie. Okay, not a "highlight" as in an event, but the overarching theme of the weekend for me. Lots of bonding with other women, new and old friends, women I've known for several years but hadn't talked with much before, sharing, laughing, real emotions, real pain, real joy, and of course, gossip. We try not to ... but we do. I felt camaraderie with male friends as well, and had many intimate conversations this weekend. Really awesome to be able to do that.

2. The room and suite parties where much of the action takes place. Thanks to Todd and Suzy (of American Spanking Society fame); Harry; Crowe; Seattle Tom; Henry and Susan; Lori and Glenn; Lauren of Alaska; Jules, Maria and KathyCA; Kat and John; and others, for opening up your rooms each day. Thank you, Lori, for introducing me to newbie Stephen, who was adorable, but more importantly, knew how to give an incredible spanking. Got me out of my Friday funk very quickly!

3. The breakfasts ("bitch fests?") in Jules', Maria's, and KathyCA's room several mornings in a row. The group was mostly women, with a few special guys joining us later. Great to hang out and get to know all of you better -- Indy, Katylynne, SueNY, Kat, Kitty, D. (of D.&G.), Dawna, Spirit... did I forget someone? Let me know, I'll add you ASAP. That was beyond fun. Oh, congrats again to Kat and John, who got married Thursday in Vegas.

4. Interesting conversations, including the one I found myself in with J., Erica's boyfriend, about Ludwig Wittgenstein. I am supposed to read Wittgenstein to hone my comma-usage skills, and reading Kafka for proper semicolon usage. Bizarre as that conversation seems, it may not be craziest topic ever discussed at a Shadow Lane party. Happy anniversary, by the way, Erica and J.

5. Magic Steve's magic show in Crowe's room. A well-done show generating amazement and lots of laughs, and a nice ice breaker for SL. I don't like that Invisible Leprachaun, though. He's a nasty SOB! Who invited HIM? Thanks, Steve, and thanks, Uncle David and Crowe, for the delicious homemade lemonade.

6. Getting to top all the wonderful male brats at the Bad Boyz Breakfast on Sunday. Okay, you're not ALL brats. I won't name names ... except for Duckie, Jean-Paul, and Uber-brat Ron of San Diego. Can't wait to see you all next year! (Thanks, Ron and J.P., also, for joining us on our road trip to Hoover Dam). Thanks, Rachelle, for hosting. Lots of fun to share topping "duties" with you, Wednesday, Miranda, and Miss Chris. I really had a blast, and I think my arm is nearly recovered.

7. Hot two-couple scenes that Rad and I took part in with D. (bratty school girl) and G. ("Dad"); and Scott and Miranda. D. was adorable. I hope I can get a picture -- hint hint. Scott used Miranda's strap on me, a nasty thing that was the very strap her mother used on her when she was younger. Damn, that hurt. I loved playing with you all, can't wait for next time.

8. Thank you to the women who shared recommendations on good tops. This helps a lot when you're trying to find like-minded souls.

9. Thank you, Tim of Las Vegas, for a WONDERFUL session. It made my weekend to be able to submit to you. I think I am still high.

10. Thank you, Rad... Paul... my partner in crime, my support, my "Daddy," my best friend. I hope I tell you often enough how glad I am that you come into my life and can share these adventures with me. Love you, Man!

Monday, September 1, 2008

Party talk

Rad and I were talking about one difference between men and women in the scene. He says women talk LOTS more than men. That's true of me. When I have a a bad thing happen, I talk. Sometimes I just need to talk; I need to ask how I should have handled something, whether I handled it right or wrong, etc., etc. If I sense that what happened was NOT the top's fault (i.e., we didn't communicate enough prior to the scene, or I didn't speak up at a moment when I should have spoken up), then I really try hard not to name names. It's not fair to someone, ESPECIALLY if he is new and inexperienced and still finding his way.

More often, I find myself talking after a GOOD scene, (especially someone I've never met before, someone who's at his first party). I want to spread the word. "Have you played with S.? OMG, he's so good." Why? Can't exactly say. Part of me wants other women to have a good time, part of me wants the new guy to get better known so HE has a good time and keeps coming back, part of me feels like I've just "discovered" something and I want to talk about it. But yes, I do talk. And I've seen other women talk. I've had WONDERFUL scenes because I've chosen to play with someone who was recommended to me. It happened twice this weekend.

Men, on the other hand, at least according to Rad, don't share such information. Instead, he says, they "hoard." They don't want other guys finding out about the hot scene they just did, because then there will be competition. The babe they just played with needs to keep playing with HIM, not other guys. She might end up liking the other guys more. (is that what the thought is?)

I do admit it's not entirely a man thing. When I have a really hot scene with someone where I feel like we just clicked instantly and he knew EXACTLY what I needed and he pushed me and controlled me just right, I tend to want to think that I am the only one who can take it as much as I've just taken it. I want to think we just shared something really, really unique that only happened because he and I converged at this moment in time and bonded in a way that could never happen with anyone else he plays with.

Then I run into someone else he's played with and she has the same blissful look on her face when she talks about playing with him. And I start to think maybe I wasn't so special. I hate feeling that way, because what happens is it's usually some female friend who you really like and you don't want these jealous feelings popping up, these negative emotions. (I'm thinking, "Oh, you might have 'enjoyed' playing with him, but he and I traveled to heights never reached before.")

This is what I mean when I talk about competitiveness. And I HAVE to nip it in the bud, because I don't want to be competitive. I want to CONNECT with people. We CAN play with the same person and have different experiences. And even if the experiences are similar, it doesn't make one less special than the other.