Rad, Ron, Jean-Paul, and I all drove out to Hoover Dam this afternoon. That took about 3, 4 hours. I've never seen it before, and it's quite impressive.
Earlier, Ms. Cassandra appeared at the Bad Boyz Breakfast, along with Rochelle, Miranda, Miss Chris, and Wednesday. About 20 very naughty boys showed up and needed to be dealt with. I was able to cane and strap several VERY bad boys who needed more than my hand. (Yes, I know that's nearly all of them, but there are some special cases). I have pictures to show later; will revise this when I'm back on my own computer.
Last night, again, I played a lot, topping and bottoming (details still to come), but tonight I still would like to hook up with a certain British top who's infamous for his use of the cane, as well as a certain San Diego top, a certain Long Island top, and several others. I'll have to see how my body and my butt hold up.
Now, on to dinner. I am sad. We have to leave tomorrow. The friendship and camaraderie this weekend have been outstanding. I can't even begin to say.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Shadow Lane -- play play play!
Yes, this year I am booking time to play, rather than waiting for it to just happen. Friday, I play with M. of M.&K., the aforementioned Brad, and U.D. U.D. and I end our session while Rad is using our room, so I have to ("have to") go down to the casino to gamble for about 15 minutes until I can go back up and change. I lose $15. Could be worse. I’ve only gambled about $40 so far, so I’m not doing too bad, but I’d LIKE to start seeing a positive balance.
Quick change of clothes and then off to the Friday night suite parties. There are four options on the 10th floor that I know of, and I want to stop into each one, which will be tough. The first two are very crowded, but I remain calm. I talk to M.&K. for a while. They are headed down the hall to the other party and I join them. K. and I talk about negative feelings, feeling competitive, feeling that we are vying for attention, and feeling that we do not want to have to ASK someone to play, but rather for someone to approach us.
(My fantasy is someone just coming up and yanking me over his knee. Yes, I know, it doesn’t work like that in real life unless you know the person and you have established that he can do that. I’m free to fantasize, however.)
We go to a slightly less crowded party in the suite of L.&G., a very nice couple that I met at my first SL party several years ago. K. goes off to do something else. I go over to talk with L., who is sitting on a stool near the bar. The couch is perpendicular to the bar, and I sit on the edge of the couch, near a nice-looking guy I didn’t know. I continue my theme of feeling competitive, needy, wanting attention, etc., to L. She knows the guy on the couch. She leans over and says to him, “Why don’t you put her over your knee?” She then officially introduces us. His name is S. I look at him. He looks at me. I’m certainly willing. He says, “Let’s go.” I look at L. and she’s smiling. Cool. We go off into the bedroom part of the suite and he puts me over his knee.
Then S. proceeds to spank the living daylights out of me. Holy crap, it’s good. He only uses his hand, but he’s tireless. First it hurts, and then I just want more and more and more, so I’m egging him on, cursing, calling him a son-of-a-bitch, etc., just to make him go harder. I’m exhausted at the end. I mean, it must have been a half-hour spanking. He looks at me and says, “We’re going to finish this tomorrow.” Uh -- "Yes, Sir," I say. At that point they have to call the maids to mop the floor… Just kidding, but damn, it’s simply PERFECT!
Today, Saturday, a bunch of the girls all get together for breakfast, had a wonderful talk, some bitching, some gossip, some good and bad reports of how the party's going so far. I'm happy to say that I'm still having a wonderful time, and have more appointments scheduled for later today.
Quick change of clothes and then off to the Friday night suite parties. There are four options on the 10th floor that I know of, and I want to stop into each one, which will be tough. The first two are very crowded, but I remain calm. I talk to M.&K. for a while. They are headed down the hall to the other party and I join them. K. and I talk about negative feelings, feeling competitive, feeling that we are vying for attention, and feeling that we do not want to have to ASK someone to play, but rather for someone to approach us.
(My fantasy is someone just coming up and yanking me over his knee. Yes, I know, it doesn’t work like that in real life unless you know the person and you have established that he can do that. I’m free to fantasize, however.)
We go to a slightly less crowded party in the suite of L.&G., a very nice couple that I met at my first SL party several years ago. K. goes off to do something else. I go over to talk with L., who is sitting on a stool near the bar. The couch is perpendicular to the bar, and I sit on the edge of the couch, near a nice-looking guy I didn’t know. I continue my theme of feeling competitive, needy, wanting attention, etc., to L. She knows the guy on the couch. She leans over and says to him, “Why don’t you put her over your knee?” She then officially introduces us. His name is S. I look at him. He looks at me. I’m certainly willing. He says, “Let’s go.” I look at L. and she’s smiling. Cool. We go off into the bedroom part of the suite and he puts me over his knee.
Then S. proceeds to spank the living daylights out of me. Holy crap, it’s good. He only uses his hand, but he’s tireless. First it hurts, and then I just want more and more and more, so I’m egging him on, cursing, calling him a son-of-a-bitch, etc., just to make him go harder. I’m exhausted at the end. I mean, it must have been a half-hour spanking. He looks at me and says, “We’re going to finish this tomorrow.” Uh -- "Yes, Sir," I say. At that point they have to call the maids to mop the floor… Just kidding, but damn, it’s simply PERFECT!
Today, Saturday, a bunch of the girls all get together for breakfast, had a wonderful talk, some bitching, some gossip, some good and bad reports of how the party's going so far. I'm happy to say that I'm still having a wonderful time, and have more appointments scheduled for later today.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Friday morning wake-up
Friday, Aug. 28 8 a.m.
Last night was relaxing and fun. First person we see (at the hotel registration desk) is Brad. He gives me a big bear hug and lifts me off the floor in the process. He lives in Maryland, so we see him periodically throughout the year, but it's still good to see an old friend. (He was at our wedding in 2006). We confirm plans to meet at Senior Miguel's at 5:30 p.m.
We check in, hang up clothes ... WHY are there never enough hangers in hotel rooms? Do I have more clothes than the average woman? Rad gets one hanger, I take the rest.
Nap time. Then shower time. Then dinner.
Shadow Lane invades Senor Miguel's. Brad says there were more than 30 people there. We completely take over, there's five or six tables of us eventually; all sense of propriety is out the window. Strangers at our table introduce themselves. After dinner I walk around to the other tables shaking hands. "Hi, good to see you, thanks for coming," I say, like I'm at my own party. Always a wise ass. The handshaking is quickly abandoned for hugs, at least for the people I know.
The male brat trio has arrived (JP, R. and G.); the New York contingency, some of it, is off to one side. Colorado is in the house, M&K; we have people from Florida, North Carolina, Ohio, Indiana, California, Arizona, Pennsylvania, probably many other states. We are all trying to catch up, exchanging room numbers and phone numbers, trying to firm up play times.
Later, T.&S. host a room party, a nice welcoming shindig. I go off to play privately with B., then come back to T.&S.'s room for more play. Paul canes me over the bed. Later we freshen up and go up to Seattle T.'s suite for more socializing. I don't play, just talk for about half an hour, meet more old and new friends). It is getting VERY late, by New York time, so we finally go back to our room and sleep.
We always get up early, usually before 6, so we are up at 7 this morning and now we're about to get breakfast. D. (of D. and G.) and I are going for pedicures later, I have plans to play with Brad and M. later. Paul seems to have no shortage of partners, so he'll be very busy. I may gamble. I may swim. I may sit at the coffee bar, just read my paperback and wait and see who comes along from our group.
Last night was relaxing and fun. First person we see (at the hotel registration desk) is Brad. He gives me a big bear hug and lifts me off the floor in the process. He lives in Maryland, so we see him periodically throughout the year, but it's still good to see an old friend. (He was at our wedding in 2006). We confirm plans to meet at Senior Miguel's at 5:30 p.m.
We check in, hang up clothes ... WHY are there never enough hangers in hotel rooms? Do I have more clothes than the average woman? Rad gets one hanger, I take the rest.
Nap time. Then shower time. Then dinner.
Shadow Lane invades Senor Miguel's. Brad says there were more than 30 people there. We completely take over, there's five or six tables of us eventually; all sense of propriety is out the window. Strangers at our table introduce themselves. After dinner I walk around to the other tables shaking hands. "Hi, good to see you, thanks for coming," I say, like I'm at my own party. Always a wise ass. The handshaking is quickly abandoned for hugs, at least for the people I know.
The male brat trio has arrived (JP, R. and G.); the New York contingency, some of it, is off to one side. Colorado is in the house, M&K; we have people from Florida, North Carolina, Ohio, Indiana, California, Arizona, Pennsylvania, probably many other states. We are all trying to catch up, exchanging room numbers and phone numbers, trying to firm up play times.
Later, T.&S. host a room party, a nice welcoming shindig. I go off to play privately with B., then come back to T.&S.'s room for more play. Paul canes me over the bed. Later we freshen up and go up to Seattle T.'s suite for more socializing. I don't play, just talk for about half an hour, meet more old and new friends). It is getting VERY late, by New York time, so we finally go back to our room and sleep.
We always get up early, usually before 6, so we are up at 7 this morning and now we're about to get breakfast. D. (of D. and G.) and I are going for pedicures later, I have plans to play with Brad and M. later. Paul seems to have no shortage of partners, so he'll be very busy. I may gamble. I may swim. I may sit at the coffee bar, just read my paperback and wait and see who comes along from our group.
On the way to Vegas
Some notes from our Shadow Lane trip so far:
Thursday, Aug. 28, 2008
The day shows nothing but good omens. Car service is early, we are ready with time to spare. Last look around, last goodbye head scratch to the kitties, and we’re off. Driver is friendly and talkative (tales of his years with UPS), traffic is not bad and the trip goes quickly. At JFK, there are only two people in front of us at check in. Bags are both underweight, and because we bought our tickets a while ago, there is no charge for the bags (U.S. Air is one of those airlines that have started charging $15 for bags recently).
Security check in is fast as well; there’s hardly a line at all. Best of all, EVERYONE is pleasant and friendly. Am I still in New York? What's going on here? at 7:30 a.m., maybe they’re still too half-asleep to get their nasty on for the day. Whatever the reason, I’m taking and running with the good feeling.
We get our Starbucks, muffin, yogurt with granola, and relax at a table before moseying on over to our gate.
Oh, and damn, I realize I forgot my party tickets! I emailed Tony Elka from my cell phone (I LUV modern technology) and when we landed in Vegas, there was an email waiting telling me he’d help us out, that we were on a list. Thanks, Tony! Yes, I know – Paul has to spank me for that.
Thursday, Aug. 28, 2008
The day shows nothing but good omens. Car service is early, we are ready with time to spare. Last look around, last goodbye head scratch to the kitties, and we’re off. Driver is friendly and talkative (tales of his years with UPS), traffic is not bad and the trip goes quickly. At JFK, there are only two people in front of us at check in. Bags are both underweight, and because we bought our tickets a while ago, there is no charge for the bags (U.S. Air is one of those airlines that have started charging $15 for bags recently).
Security check in is fast as well; there’s hardly a line at all. Best of all, EVERYONE is pleasant and friendly. Am I still in New York? What's going on here? at 7:30 a.m., maybe they’re still too half-asleep to get their nasty on for the day. Whatever the reason, I’m taking and running with the good feeling.
We get our Starbucks, muffin, yogurt with granola, and relax at a table before moseying on over to our gate.
Oh, and damn, I realize I forgot my party tickets! I emailed Tony Elka from my cell phone (I LUV modern technology) and when we landed in Vegas, there was an email waiting telling me he’d help us out, that we were on a list. Thanks, Tony! Yes, I know – Paul has to spank me for that.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
bonus blog: reality rears its ugly head
Well. That synopsis of what happens at SL is all well and good — and mostly true. But deep down inside I am still often a scared, vulnerable, flawed little girl, the teenager sitting at the edge of the dance, hoping someone asks her to dance, but thinking that someone probably won’t. I can say with pretty good certainty that I will play with people that I want to play with. But feelings will come up. A good time all gets complicated by my never-ending negative internal tapes.
I’ll criticize my body and compare it to others’ bodies. I’ll feel hurt because some top said he wanted to play, but doesn’t make a better effort to find me and commit to a time. I’ll feel old. I’ll see someone else’s dress or shoes and start to think MY dress isn’t good enough. I won’t feel smart enough when someone starts talking about politics. I’ll mispronounce a word. I’ll laugh too loud. I’ll feel shy.
Ugly emotions will arise. Some strange man will ask me to play out of the blue and I’ll be tempted to snap, “Ever think of introducing yourself first?” I will judge at least one person (probably more) based on appearance — despite all my pompous claims that it’s not about appearance.
I will brat and go too far, then regret it later and beat myself up for a full day, because I know I’m just broadcasting my insecurities, my desire for attention, and, let’s face it, my greed.
I will do the exact opposite and run around trying to make sure everyone else has a good time (neglecting my own needs and wants).
So I'm praying now that I can obtain a healthy balance somehow: to have fun, to be nice, and to be just a little selfish without going too far.
The last thing I want to say is I need some hot scenes this weekend, one or two good thrashings. Oh, I plan to dish it out, too. But I do NOT plan on living vicariously at this party. I need to be taken down a notch or two. I need to be given what for…
I’ll criticize my body and compare it to others’ bodies. I’ll feel hurt because some top said he wanted to play, but doesn’t make a better effort to find me and commit to a time. I’ll feel old. I’ll see someone else’s dress or shoes and start to think MY dress isn’t good enough. I won’t feel smart enough when someone starts talking about politics. I’ll mispronounce a word. I’ll laugh too loud. I’ll feel shy.
Ugly emotions will arise. Some strange man will ask me to play out of the blue and I’ll be tempted to snap, “Ever think of introducing yourself first?” I will judge at least one person (probably more) based on appearance — despite all my pompous claims that it’s not about appearance.
I will brat and go too far, then regret it later and beat myself up for a full day, because I know I’m just broadcasting my insecurities, my desire for attention, and, let’s face it, my greed.
I will do the exact opposite and run around trying to make sure everyone else has a good time (neglecting my own needs and wants).
So I'm praying now that I can obtain a healthy balance somehow: to have fun, to be nice, and to be just a little selfish without going too far.
The last thing I want to say is I need some hot scenes this weekend, one or two good thrashings. Oh, I plan to dish it out, too. But I do NOT plan on living vicariously at this party. I need to be taken down a notch or two. I need to be given what for…
What to expect at Shadow Lane (IMHO)
This was a response to a friend who was asking what to expect at a Shadow Lane party (he'd heard good and bad things about SL), and this was what I wrote:
At least some of what happens at a large party like Shadow Lane depends upon what you are looking for there. If you're just looking to play, that’s a given: this is the place for people who are into spanking. A wide number of attendees are into a wide number of other activities, too. This is your playground.
If you are looking for a partner, you’ll be in one of the best places in the country to meet that special someone. You might NOT meet the right person, or you might meet someone who lives too far away. But at the very least, you will have the chance to meet people and network more. I went to a bunch of SL parties as a single before my husband and I hooked up (through SL, I should add).
Yet, a newcomer will have to overcome any shyness he or she has. SOME folks also may have to overcome any notion that they'll be playing with people who look like the video actresses or actors. There will be a wide variety of body types and ages. On the other hand, there’s a possibility you’ll get to play with a “star.” Anything can happen. You don’t know, until you ask, what someone might be looking for.
Will there be cliques there? I suppose that depends on how you use the word, but yes, there will be groups of people who know each other and like to hang out with each other. Are they “exclusive” and unwelcoming of anyone new? I’ve never come across that, at least not blatently. I didn’t have the guts to try to establish contact with the young crowd of video babes who were hanging out together. I’m not saying they wouldn’t have wanted to hang out with me … but on the other hand, I’m forty-five, most of them are in their twenties, and I didn’t push. I also don’t drink or smoke, so I tend not to hang out with people who are drinking a lot and smoking. One-on-one, though, I’ve talked with many of the “stars” and they’re generally very sweet, nice people.
I myself have friends whose company I enjoy, and I like to seek them out year after year. Our last-night-of-the-party dinners are always fun. There are tops I like to play with. I know their style and I know it’s what I’m looking for. Easier to jump right in with someone you know, right?
But why would I ignore someone new and interesting? I personally think people are hoping to meet new people no matter how many parties they've gone to and how many people they already know.
I’m a pain slut and an exhibitionist. I like private, serious play, too. My husband and I both like to play with others. We also like fun, open-minded, intelligent people. This party is perfect for us.
I approach it with some expectations, a little nervousness (I still get a little anxious in large crowds), but mostly excitement. I will have a good time. I’ll get to spank people. People will spank me.
At least some of what happens at a large party like Shadow Lane depends upon what you are looking for there. If you're just looking to play, that’s a given: this is the place for people who are into spanking. A wide number of attendees are into a wide number of other activities, too. This is your playground.
If you are looking for a partner, you’ll be in one of the best places in the country to meet that special someone. You might NOT meet the right person, or you might meet someone who lives too far away. But at the very least, you will have the chance to meet people and network more. I went to a bunch of SL parties as a single before my husband and I hooked up (through SL, I should add).
Yet, a newcomer will have to overcome any shyness he or she has. SOME folks also may have to overcome any notion that they'll be playing with people who look like the video actresses or actors. There will be a wide variety of body types and ages. On the other hand, there’s a possibility you’ll get to play with a “star.” Anything can happen. You don’t know, until you ask, what someone might be looking for.
Will there be cliques there? I suppose that depends on how you use the word, but yes, there will be groups of people who know each other and like to hang out with each other. Are they “exclusive” and unwelcoming of anyone new? I’ve never come across that, at least not blatently. I didn’t have the guts to try to establish contact with the young crowd of video babes who were hanging out together. I’m not saying they wouldn’t have wanted to hang out with me … but on the other hand, I’m forty-five, most of them are in their twenties, and I didn’t push. I also don’t drink or smoke, so I tend not to hang out with people who are drinking a lot and smoking. One-on-one, though, I’ve talked with many of the “stars” and they’re generally very sweet, nice people.
I myself have friends whose company I enjoy, and I like to seek them out year after year. Our last-night-of-the-party dinners are always fun. There are tops I like to play with. I know their style and I know it’s what I’m looking for. Easier to jump right in with someone you know, right?
But why would I ignore someone new and interesting? I personally think people are hoping to meet new people no matter how many parties they've gone to and how many people they already know.
I’m a pain slut and an exhibitionist. I like private, serious play, too. My husband and I both like to play with others. We also like fun, open-minded, intelligent people. This party is perfect for us.
I approach it with some expectations, a little nervousness (I still get a little anxious in large crowds), but mostly excitement. I will have a good time. I’ll get to spank people. People will spank me.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Hair-raising tales
My mood on the trip home fluctuated between anxiety and being relaxed. The relaxed won out eventually. The anxiety was only relating to spending more than I'd planned on my hair. I allowed myself to be talked into reddish-blonde highlights along with the cut I'd walked in for. The relaxed part is simply the way I feel after most haircuts. I love the sensation when I get my hair washed. It's like getting a head massage (another thing I love). The assistant washed my hair before the haircut was to begin, and then, because I opted for the highlights, I got two more washes and rinses before we were done. Everyone was VERY nice. I really, really appreciate that these days.
The stylist's name was "Eagle"; he was a very nice man, and good with the scissors and color. I left very happy, glad I'd spent the extra money.
Afterward on the train it was a tiny bit loud -- there was one big mouth as usual holding court; I had to remind myself to stop passing judgment and to stop sticking labels on people -- but overall I was able to deal with distractions. I eventually put my i-Pod on and listened to some jazz.
I was so irritated earlier in the day. I haven't gotten enough sleep this week and I was very cranky this morning. Rad and I got into a little fight before going into the Starbucks. (We made up pretty quickly, but I was unhappy with myself and my overreaction to certain things.)
At lunchtime I just wanted to take a break and go off by myself. I had a book in my bag and I was all set to go find a place to hide for an hour. It wasn't meant to be today. My coworker latched onto me, declared that she would be walking with me. I guess she needed company. I wanted to be alone, at that moment, but couldn't think of any nice way to tall her. I like her, have no reason to blow her off (plus she's going through a lot of personal stuff right now and I'm trying to give her a break). Right then, I wanted solitude and didn't get it. Not the end of the world. We bought pre-packaged sushi at the Chinese deli, went back and ate at our desks; I slipped away later for a few minutes alone. Not a big deal.
On your mark...
Started getting ready for the Shadow Lane party last night. Step one, washed the hand washables in Woolite; slung them all over the shower curtain bar (Sorry, Rad). Step two, worked my way systematically through the closet to make sure I have all the dresses and tops I need. Step three, did same with drawers.
Made an analysis of panties: Yes, sexy. Yes, sexy. No, sexy but uncomfortable -- kept riding up. Yes, uncomfortable but sexy enough to override the uncomfortableness. Yes, not sexy, but I need for working out and other "normal" activities. I have an abundance of panties. A girl MUST be able to have options.
Don't forget t-shirts, shorts, and jeans. Where the fuck is my new Land's End bathing suit? Did I leave it in Florida? Come to think of it, have I actually SEEN it since Florida Moonshine? Two older bathing suits tossed into suitcase instead.
So, I'm nearly packed now. We're in pretty good shape.
Tonight (Tuesday) -- haircut, pedicure, manicure (should I get acrylics?), perhaps eyebrow waxing?
Wednesday night -- appointment set for the dreaded Brazilian waxing. Yes, I've decided to go do it, my first since the disastrous one six months or so ago. I could not get an appointment at J Sisters, so I hope the spa I chose knows what they are doing. It had good reviews...
Thursday morning -- off to Vegas!
Somewhere in between now and Thursday morning -- emailing my favorite tops and trying to firm up appointment times!
Am I nervous? Perhaps... will discuss later.
Made an analysis of panties: Yes, sexy. Yes, sexy. No, sexy but uncomfortable -- kept riding up. Yes, uncomfortable but sexy enough to override the uncomfortableness. Yes, not sexy, but I need for working out and other "normal" activities. I have an abundance of panties. A girl MUST be able to have options.
Don't forget t-shirts, shorts, and jeans. Where the fuck is my new Land's End bathing suit? Did I leave it in Florida? Come to think of it, have I actually SEEN it since Florida Moonshine? Two older bathing suits tossed into suitcase instead.
So, I'm nearly packed now. We're in pretty good shape.
Tonight (Tuesday) -- haircut, pedicure, manicure (should I get acrylics?), perhaps eyebrow waxing?
Wednesday night -- appointment set for the dreaded Brazilian waxing. Yes, I've decided to go do it, my first since the disastrous one six months or so ago. I could not get an appointment at J Sisters, so I hope the spa I chose knows what they are doing. It had good reviews...
Thursday morning -- off to Vegas!
Somewhere in between now and Thursday morning -- emailing my favorite tops and trying to firm up appointment times!
Am I nervous? Perhaps... will discuss later.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Just a little slip
So I had a slip. It wasn't much. Just a little muttered comment: "Stupid!" was what came to my lips, passing the rather large woman who'd chosen to amble down the exact center of the subway platform, blocking traffic. Why? Because she had her head facing downward -- she was texting!
So I got angry, briefly. In retrospect I should have muttered, "Selfish!" instead, becasue that would have been more appropriate. And of course her size had nothing to do with her selfishness, except that it made it harder to get around her on the narrow platform. So I was a bitch. I can't always keep my mouth shut. Sue me.
I got on the train and calmed down. I actually got a seat, too! Hallelujah!
I should have been in a better mood. Rad gave me a caning before bed last night, and this morning, he threw me over his propped-up knee and gave me a nasty hairbrush spanking. This was mere minutes before we were to head out the door, so when I got into the car I was still a little dazed. He'd told me last night that this was going to be happening. I'd been warned. But I was still a little shocked when he came into the bedroom and grabbed me. Damn, that hairbrush hurts! I was one minute late yesterday. ONE FREAKIN' minute. Sue me.
But yeah, I liked the attention and I was in an okay mood until I ran into the texting fool. It wasn't really about the texter, either. I've been irritated at procedures going on at work; I'm not happy about having to redo several hours of work yesterday, all because of indecisiveness on the upper levels. My promotion this past spring gave me a few more responsibilities. I've had more duties added since my new boss started a month or so ago. More responsibilities, less authority, one more boss to answer to. The higher-level boss makes everyone's life difficult because of her lack of planning and last-minute changes. It's disheartening, but I keep plugging away. Both bosses are out today, so I can concentrate on my work. I may call some meetings to try to streamline procedures when they are both free.
Oh, so I stopped at the grocery store to pick up lunch and they were playing John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High." I caught myself singing along. A guilty pleasure. I'm not ashamed to admit I loved John Denver. I know a lot of you out there probably did, too. It made me happy for a few minutes. So sue me.
So I got angry, briefly. In retrospect I should have muttered, "Selfish!" instead, becasue that would have been more appropriate. And of course her size had nothing to do with her selfishness, except that it made it harder to get around her on the narrow platform. So I was a bitch. I can't always keep my mouth shut. Sue me.
I got on the train and calmed down. I actually got a seat, too! Hallelujah!
I should have been in a better mood. Rad gave me a caning before bed last night, and this morning, he threw me over his propped-up knee and gave me a nasty hairbrush spanking. This was mere minutes before we were to head out the door, so when I got into the car I was still a little dazed. He'd told me last night that this was going to be happening. I'd been warned. But I was still a little shocked when he came into the bedroom and grabbed me. Damn, that hairbrush hurts! I was one minute late yesterday. ONE FREAKIN' minute. Sue me.
But yeah, I liked the attention and I was in an okay mood until I ran into the texting fool. It wasn't really about the texter, either. I've been irritated at procedures going on at work; I'm not happy about having to redo several hours of work yesterday, all because of indecisiveness on the upper levels. My promotion this past spring gave me a few more responsibilities. I've had more duties added since my new boss started a month or so ago. More responsibilities, less authority, one more boss to answer to. The higher-level boss makes everyone's life difficult because of her lack of planning and last-minute changes. It's disheartening, but I keep plugging away. Both bosses are out today, so I can concentrate on my work. I may call some meetings to try to streamline procedures when they are both free.
Oh, so I stopped at the grocery store to pick up lunch and they were playing John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High." I caught myself singing along. A guilty pleasure. I'm not ashamed to admit I loved John Denver. I know a lot of you out there probably did, too. It made me happy for a few minutes. So sue me.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
What the? ...
Okay, I know he's the new All-American hero, and he's an incredible athlete, and he'll be on the Wheaties box soon and all that, but ... am I the only one who thinks Michael Phelps looks like he's wearing a HALTER TOP here?
I'm just saying...
I'm just saying...
Monday, August 18, 2008
"I shoulda stayed underground"
Today's roundup of "I shoulda stayed underground" news, courtesy the NY Post:
1. MORE glass is falling from the skies, this time on Broadway and 42nd; an entire window falls 40 stories and -- luckily -- lands on scaffolding; no one is injured, but, hello? Inspectors?
2. Out of control cabbie two blocks away, Broadway and 44th, runs a red light, goes up on sidewalk, "scattering terrified tourists." (several people injured).
3. Lastly, a 20-foot tree falls on and critically injures a Queens woman as she's walking by.
Like I said, not a good day to be walking around outside, I guess.
None of the Post headlines were worth sharing today; I guess the Sunday news crew isn't as creative.
I'm in a cranky mood, meanwhile. I'm doing good on my daily commute; no worries. Even loud cell-phone guy next to me on bus did not get to me. As I wrote this morning, I'm letting it go, letting all flow over me.
But earlier, my serenity was threatened by a bizarre encounter with a Verizon store salesman. I wanted a new phone, and/or a new cell phone plan with more options. I was ready to pay more, up to double what I'm paying now, although of course not going into this blindly -- wanted to make sure exactly what my options were on Blackberries or similar phones. The Blackberry costs about $170 but you get back $70 on a mail-in rebate -- hah! I'm still waiting for my Wirefly/Inphonic rebates on the cell phone I bought in 2006. (a blog for another day, I suppose).
Back to my point: You'd think the salesman would pay attention and try to make the sale. Instead, he's looking everywhere but at me. The minute we start talking, his eyes are looking elsewhere. He's looking over my shoulder, around the room, all over
but at me. It's very disconcerting, and right off the bat I lose my concentration. I had specific questions to ask him and all I can think is, "This guy does not want to be here. Why should I trust him ? Why should I buy from him?"
I ask him more questions about the phone itself, and he is dismissive, tells me it comes with an operations manual and there is tech support available. Finally I look at him and tell the truth: "Look, this is awkward. You've been looking over my shoulder the whole time we've been talking." He denies it. I say, "Well, you were." He asks if I would like to speak with another salesperson. I say, "Yes, I would." He tells me I have to go to the front, where there's a kiosk that I must sign in at, and then wait for the next available salesperson. I say, "Uh, no, that's okay," and I walk out.
Did I ever write about how much I hate shopping, and how much I distrust salespeople, especially at electronic stores?
1. MORE glass is falling from the skies, this time on Broadway and 42nd; an entire window falls 40 stories and -- luckily -- lands on scaffolding; no one is injured, but, hello? Inspectors?
2. Out of control cabbie two blocks away, Broadway and 44th, runs a red light, goes up on sidewalk, "scattering terrified tourists." (several people injured).
3. Lastly, a 20-foot tree falls on and critically injures a Queens woman as she's walking by.
Like I said, not a good day to be walking around outside, I guess.
None of the Post headlines were worth sharing today; I guess the Sunday news crew isn't as creative.
I'm in a cranky mood, meanwhile. I'm doing good on my daily commute; no worries. Even loud cell-phone guy next to me on bus did not get to me. As I wrote this morning, I'm letting it go, letting all flow over me.
But earlier, my serenity was threatened by a bizarre encounter with a Verizon store salesman. I wanted a new phone, and/or a new cell phone plan with more options. I was ready to pay more, up to double what I'm paying now, although of course not going into this blindly -- wanted to make sure exactly what my options were on Blackberries or similar phones. The Blackberry costs about $170 but you get back $70 on a mail-in rebate -- hah! I'm still waiting for my Wirefly/Inphonic rebates on the cell phone I bought in 2006. (a blog for another day, I suppose).
Back to my point: You'd think the salesman would pay attention and try to make the sale. Instead, he's looking everywhere but at me. The minute we start talking, his eyes are looking elsewhere. He's looking over my shoulder, around the room, all over
but at me. It's very disconcerting, and right off the bat I lose my concentration. I had specific questions to ask him and all I can think is, "This guy does not want to be here. Why should I trust him ? Why should I buy from him?"
I ask him more questions about the phone itself, and he is dismissive, tells me it comes with an operations manual and there is tech support available. Finally I look at him and tell the truth: "Look, this is awkward. You've been looking over my shoulder the whole time we've been talking." He denies it. I say, "Well, you were." He asks if I would like to speak with another salesperson. I say, "Yes, I would." He tells me I have to go to the front, where there's a kiosk that I must sign in at, and then wait for the next available salesperson. I say, "Uh, no, that's okay," and I walk out.
Did I ever write about how much I hate shopping, and how much I distrust salespeople, especially at electronic stores?
Zen and the art of commuting
For the last two weeks I've been trying so hard to not get mad during my daily commute. It's a problem if I'm always getting angry or upset if people are too loud, or talk on and on, or play music too loudly. (People standing too close or not making room for others is another issue)
I've been telling myself (like a mantra): "Whatever happens, don't get mad. Whatever happens, don't get mad," and I only turned my i-Pod on once, when guys right behind me on the subway were shouting right in my ear. When I say, "shouting," usually I mean TALKING VERY LOUDLY. It's really unavoidable, living in New York. There's no real solution. It won't stop happening. I could get in trouble if I force a confrontation about it, so I'm pretty much reduced to accepting it -- however I manage to do that.
The first few days of this exercise I was deliberately not playing my i-Pod. I heard some woman say once that she lets the noise flow all around her and it becomes part of her and everything else in the world, and she accepts it in this manner. It becomes less annoying, she said.
Was I able to achieve anything like that? Did that happen to me? I tried. I really tried. If you're in a noisy place when conversation is going on all around you, it's fine until one sharp voice rises above the din. It's like a shock to the system. It gives me a headache when I'm just trying to relax after a long day. It's worse in the morning, when people are generally more subdued, to hear such a sudden loud voice. Then it's not a voice rising about the din but a voice rising out of nowhere. You go from quiet to unnecessary loudness.
"Unnecessary" is a judgment, of course. My first step in this process, this goal for serenity on the daily commute, might be to stop judging, to stop saying, "this person 'shouldn't' be making so much noise, this person 'should' know how rude he is being," etc.
Once I go beyond the judging, it comes down to what's actually happening. How is this affecting ME? "Listening to those kids shouting back and forth is giving me a headache. I doubt they will stop. My choices are: 1., keep listening to it and accepting it (I can always take out a notebook and start writing down quotes for my future blogs or short stories); 2, blocking it by putting my i-Pod on, or 3) moving to a different location on the train."
So, that's my goal for today as I head off today to another week in the trenches.
I've been telling myself (like a mantra): "Whatever happens, don't get mad. Whatever happens, don't get mad," and I only turned my i-Pod on once, when guys right behind me on the subway were shouting right in my ear. When I say, "shouting," usually I mean TALKING VERY LOUDLY. It's really unavoidable, living in New York. There's no real solution. It won't stop happening. I could get in trouble if I force a confrontation about it, so I'm pretty much reduced to accepting it -- however I manage to do that.
The first few days of this exercise I was deliberately not playing my i-Pod. I heard some woman say once that she lets the noise flow all around her and it becomes part of her and everything else in the world, and she accepts it in this manner. It becomes less annoying, she said.
Was I able to achieve anything like that? Did that happen to me? I tried. I really tried. If you're in a noisy place when conversation is going on all around you, it's fine until one sharp voice rises above the din. It's like a shock to the system. It gives me a headache when I'm just trying to relax after a long day. It's worse in the morning, when people are generally more subdued, to hear such a sudden loud voice. Then it's not a voice rising about the din but a voice rising out of nowhere. You go from quiet to unnecessary loudness.
"Unnecessary" is a judgment, of course. My first step in this process, this goal for serenity on the daily commute, might be to stop judging, to stop saying, "this person 'shouldn't' be making so much noise, this person 'should' know how rude he is being," etc.
Once I go beyond the judging, it comes down to what's actually happening. How is this affecting ME? "Listening to those kids shouting back and forth is giving me a headache. I doubt they will stop. My choices are: 1., keep listening to it and accepting it (I can always take out a notebook and start writing down quotes for my future blogs or short stories); 2, blocking it by putting my i-Pod on, or 3) moving to a different location on the train."
So, that's my goal for today as I head off today to another week in the trenches.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Yes, I liked it...
Confession time. I have been trying SO HARD to leave on time for work, since my punishment last week. But two days ago, it was 7:01 a.m. when we finally got out the door. One minute late. ("Just one minute," I say. "Doesn't matter; you're late," he says. Sheesh!)
Okay, he says, ten with the bath brush and six with the cane later. Sigh. "Yes, sir..." (hangdog look).
Later that night... we're both fooling around on the computer and then finally I say I need to go to bed (I've been waiting for his signal that it's time). "There's something we need to do before you go to sleep," he says.
"Yes, sir." (hangdog look).
I'm told to kneel on the bed and he takes out the bath brush. This is the new one, the hardwood one I found recently at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It hurts! (pout). At that point I'd forgotten how many I was supposed to get. I'm thinking it was twenty. He smacks me really hard with it. Yow! Damn, that's not nice! OMG...
It wasn't until number 7 or 8 that I realize I'm only getting ten (yes, my memory sucks, but at least it fell in my favor this time.) I take the last couple strokes, which are probably the hardest, and then I rub my bottom.
But it's time for the cane. He lets me lie across pillows on the bed (I like this position). He's using the thicker cane, which is thuddier but still very painful. He delivers the six strokes, slowly, and all of them hurt. But... it's only six. It's bearable.
We go to sleep. Next day, up and out the door int time. We go to Starbucks for coffee. I say to him, "That was a hard spanking you gave me last night, 'Daddy.'"
He looks at me, not buying it. "You liked it."
"But it hurt!"
"You liked it," he repeats.
Okay, I liked it... what can I say? Oops. Gotta go. We have to be out the door in six minutes!!
Okay, he says, ten with the bath brush and six with the cane later. Sigh. "Yes, sir..." (hangdog look).
Later that night... we're both fooling around on the computer and then finally I say I need to go to bed (I've been waiting for his signal that it's time). "There's something we need to do before you go to sleep," he says.
"Yes, sir." (hangdog look).
I'm told to kneel on the bed and he takes out the bath brush. This is the new one, the hardwood one I found recently at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It hurts! (pout). At that point I'd forgotten how many I was supposed to get. I'm thinking it was twenty. He smacks me really hard with it. Yow! Damn, that's not nice! OMG...
It wasn't until number 7 or 8 that I realize I'm only getting ten (yes, my memory sucks, but at least it fell in my favor this time.) I take the last couple strokes, which are probably the hardest, and then I rub my bottom.
But it's time for the cane. He lets me lie across pillows on the bed (I like this position). He's using the thicker cane, which is thuddier but still very painful. He delivers the six strokes, slowly, and all of them hurt. But... it's only six. It's bearable.
We go to sleep. Next day, up and out the door int time. We go to Starbucks for coffee. I say to him, "That was a hard spanking you gave me last night, 'Daddy.'"
He looks at me, not buying it. "You liked it."
"But it hurt!"
"You liked it," he repeats.
Okay, I liked it... what can I say? Oops. Gotta go. We have to be out the door in six minutes!!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Lazy blog
Can’t think right now, and I spent my subway ride indulging in one of my guilty pleasures, reading the New York Post. Now, don’t knock it. I know it’s a biased, right-wing rag, but it’s got the best headlines AND Sudoku (easy AND hard Sudoku!) So, my “blog” today is simply a potpourri of news I found interesting.
Holy Hoofer!
Adam West may be busting a move on "Dancing With the Stars." The original "Batman," now almost 80, is being considered for a spot on the next "Dancing" season. "Adam is in outstanding shape," said a source. "He works out an hour a day and walks with his big dog on his farm in Sun Valley, Idaho."
(Sandy comment: Oh, walking your dog qualifies you for Dancing With the Stars? I can’t wait…)
A rep for West said that he is "not definite yet, but is one of the people they are seriously looking at. They will decide on everyone on Aug. 25."
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08132008/gossip/pagesix/holy_hoofer__124186.htm
Death from the Skies! Glass Panel Falls 50 Floors
Two people were hurt yesterday when a glass panel being installed near the top of a Midtown skyscraper fell more than 50 stories, authorities said.
… The department closed Sixth Avenue between 41st and 42nd streets…
(Sandy comment: THIS IS RIGHT WHERE I WAIT FOR MY BUS HOME!! I’ve watched this building going up, and have had fears of glass falling as the windows were being installed across the street. There have been a LOT of construction accidents lately in New York…)
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08132008/news/regionalnews/glass_panel_falls_50_floors_124260.htm
Good news from the Police Blotter!
Thugs in a wolf pack brutally beat a woman walking to work in the West Village... Carlton Eaglen, 17, Emira Beskovic, 18, and three juveniles repeatedly punched the 26-year-old woman in the face at Barrow and Hudson streets at around 6:30 a.m. Saturday .... One suspect hit the woman's coffee cup, causing the steaming java to splash up in her face, cops said. The suspects then allegedly demanded the woman's purse, but she refused. Good Samaritans helped the woman and called cops, who arrested all five thugs.
(Sandy comment: But wait, there’s more! A story from Monday...)
CONEY ISLAND MOB BEATS EX-MARINES RESCUING GIRL
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08112008/news/regionalnews/coney_island_mob_beats_ex_marines_rescui_123919.htm
A wolf pack of at least 30 thugs viciously attacked two hero ex-Marines in Brooklyn after they rescued a teenage girl who was being assaulted, police and witnesses said yesterday.
(Sandy comment: What the hell is going on in NYC? The only redeeming factor about both these stories is the good Samaritan element. At least people aren’t turning their heads and looking the other way. But that didn’t work out so well for the Coney Island Marines...)
In “Weird But True”:
A man posing as a "porn inspector" tried to get the owners of an X-rated shop in Colorado to give him free videos, claiming he had to make sure the performers weren't underage. Of course, the local police don't have a porn inspector.
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08132008/news/weirdbuttrue/weirdbuttrue.htm
(Sandy comment: This last one’s not a Post story, but an AP story. Glad to see Arkansas residents are so well-protected:)
Crime-ridden Arkansas town expands 24-hour curfew
“… some infringement on constitutional rights is OK,” says Helena-West Helena, Arkansas Mayor James Valley.
HELENA-WEST HELENA, Ark. - Officers armed with military rifles have been stopping and questioning passers-by in a neighborhood plagued by violence that's been under a 24-hour curfew for a week.
… officers … only questioned people about why they were outside. Those without good answers or acting nervously get additional attention, Police Chief Fred Fielder said.
… such stops likely violate residents' constitutional rights to freely assemble and protections against unreasonable police searches…
…"As far as I'm concerned, at 3 o'clock in the morning, nobody has any business being on the street, except the law," Councilman Eugene "Red" Johnson said.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080813/ap_on_re_us/arkansas_town_curfew
Holy Hoofer!
Adam West may be busting a move on "Dancing With the Stars." The original "Batman," now almost 80, is being considered for a spot on the next "Dancing" season. "Adam is in outstanding shape," said a source. "He works out an hour a day and walks with his big dog on his farm in Sun Valley, Idaho."
(Sandy comment: Oh, walking your dog qualifies you for Dancing With the Stars? I can’t wait…)
A rep for West said that he is "not definite yet, but is one of the people they are seriously looking at. They will decide on everyone on Aug. 25."
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08132008/gossip/pagesix/holy_hoofer__124186.htm
Death from the Skies! Glass Panel Falls 50 Floors
Two people were hurt yesterday when a glass panel being installed near the top of a Midtown skyscraper fell more than 50 stories, authorities said.
… The department closed Sixth Avenue between 41st and 42nd streets…
(Sandy comment: THIS IS RIGHT WHERE I WAIT FOR MY BUS HOME!! I’ve watched this building going up, and have had fears of glass falling as the windows were being installed across the street. There have been a LOT of construction accidents lately in New York…)
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08132008/news/regionalnews/glass_panel_falls_50_floors_124260.htm
Good news from the Police Blotter!
Thugs in a wolf pack brutally beat a woman walking to work in the West Village... Carlton Eaglen, 17, Emira Beskovic, 18, and three juveniles repeatedly punched the 26-year-old woman in the face at Barrow and Hudson streets at around 6:30 a.m. Saturday .... One suspect hit the woman's coffee cup, causing the steaming java to splash up in her face, cops said. The suspects then allegedly demanded the woman's purse, but she refused. Good Samaritans helped the woman and called cops, who arrested all five thugs.
(Sandy comment: But wait, there’s more! A story from Monday...)
CONEY ISLAND MOB BEATS EX-MARINES RESCUING GIRL
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08112008/news/regionalnews/coney_island_mob_beats_ex_marines_rescui_123919.htm
A wolf pack of at least 30 thugs viciously attacked two hero ex-Marines in Brooklyn after they rescued a teenage girl who was being assaulted, police and witnesses said yesterday.
(Sandy comment: What the hell is going on in NYC? The only redeeming factor about both these stories is the good Samaritan element. At least people aren’t turning their heads and looking the other way. But that didn’t work out so well for the Coney Island Marines...)
In “Weird But True”:
A man posing as a "porn inspector" tried to get the owners of an X-rated shop in Colorado to give him free videos, claiming he had to make sure the performers weren't underage. Of course, the local police don't have a porn inspector.
http://www.nypost.com/seven/08132008/news/weirdbuttrue/weirdbuttrue.htm
(Sandy comment: This last one’s not a Post story, but an AP story. Glad to see Arkansas residents are so well-protected:)
Crime-ridden Arkansas town expands 24-hour curfew
“… some infringement on constitutional rights is OK,” says Helena-West Helena, Arkansas Mayor James Valley.
HELENA-WEST HELENA, Ark. - Officers armed with military rifles have been stopping and questioning passers-by in a neighborhood plagued by violence that's been under a 24-hour curfew for a week.
… officers … only questioned people about why they were outside. Those without good answers or acting nervously get additional attention, Police Chief Fred Fielder said.
… such stops likely violate residents' constitutional rights to freely assemble and protections against unreasonable police searches…
…"As far as I'm concerned, at 3 o'clock in the morning, nobody has any business being on the street, except the law," Councilman Eugene "Red" Johnson said.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080813/ap_on_re_us/arkansas_town_curfew
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Man, she UG-LEE!!
How ugly is she? She so ugly, she wear TWO bags when she sing at the Olympics, case the first one break! hee hee hee.
"Olympic opening uses girl’s voice, not face
By CARA ANNA, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 12 minutes ago
BEIJING (AP)—One little girl had the looks. The other had the voice.
So in a last-minute move demanded by one of China’s highest officials, the two were put together for the Olympic opening ceremony, with one lip-synching “Ode to the Motherland” over the other’s singing.
The real singer, 7-year-old Yang Peiyi, with her chubby face and crooked baby teeth, wasn’t good looking enough for the ceremony, its chief music director told state-owned Beijing Radio.
So the pigtailed Lin Miaoke, a veteran of television ads, mouthed the words with a pixie smile for a stadium of 91,000 and a worldwide TV audience. “I felt so beautiful in my red dress,” the tiny 9-year-old told the China Daily newspaper.
Read more... http://sports.yahoo.com/olympics/news?slug=ap-china-lip-synchedsong&prov=ap&type=lgns
Man, this is so depressing. Imagine being seven years old and having the Chinese Politburo declare you as too ugly to represent the country.
"Peiyi later told China Central Television that just having her voice used was an honor."
(SURE it was an honor!)
"Olympic opening uses girl’s voice, not face
By CARA ANNA, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 12 minutes ago
BEIJING (AP)—One little girl had the looks. The other had the voice.
So in a last-minute move demanded by one of China’s highest officials, the two were put together for the Olympic opening ceremony, with one lip-synching “Ode to the Motherland” over the other’s singing.
The real singer, 7-year-old Yang Peiyi, with her chubby face and crooked baby teeth, wasn’t good looking enough for the ceremony, its chief music director told state-owned Beijing Radio.
So the pigtailed Lin Miaoke, a veteran of television ads, mouthed the words with a pixie smile for a stadium of 91,000 and a worldwide TV audience. “I felt so beautiful in my red dress,” the tiny 9-year-old told the China Daily newspaper.
Read more... http://sports.yahoo.com/olympics/news?slug=ap-china-lip-synchedsong&prov=ap&type=lgns
Man, this is so depressing. Imagine being seven years old and having the Chinese Politburo declare you as too ugly to represent the country.
"Peiyi later told China Central Television that just having her voice used was an honor."
(SURE it was an honor!)
Home improvements, part II
I've written about this on occasion before: My obsession with home improvements. In the two-and-a-half years that Rad and I have lived together, I've managed to paint the bathroom and kitchen, put up a few small shelves, and, as yesterday's blog indicated, make new curtains. We have a tiny one-bedroom apartment with little in the way of storage options, so I'm constantly thinking and scheming of ways to improve the situation.
The thought process usually goes something like this: We need shelves and matching "in bins" above or near the dining room table so we can reduce the clutter currently covering the dining room table. Okay, but before that happens, I have to paint the dining room walls. Do we have enough primer and color paint left? What color paint should I use? Do I need to go to Home Depot?
What am I going to do about that corner? Should I move the kitty litter boxes there, out of the kitchen? I COULD hang the ladder above the closet (ladder is currently in the kitchen). At this point I get out measuring tape and measure. Yes, that would work. What kind of hooks? Do I need to go to Home Depot?
What about hanging a curtain between the door and the closet area and between the dining room table and the closet area -- to make it like a separate little "room" for the cats? Would the cats like this? Would they find their litter soon enough? Would the litter be too close to dining room? Will the curtains block the dust?
What about the area on the other side of the couch? I could put down a board, put the litter THERE, curtain THAT area off for the cats. Then they'd drag debris through the living room... Maybe instead of a board I'll get a large plastic ribbed mat so they can wipe their feet. Might have to go to Home Depot...
What about my work area? I need a table for my crafts. Should the table be in the area near the (proposed) kitty litter area? Or should I set it up on the other side of the couch? What about shelves over my computer table. I need to paint the walls first. Do we have enough primer? ... Home Depot...
Etc., etc.
I don't spend HOURS watching home improvement shows, but I do watch them occasionally, and I look at tons of magazines and do-it-yourself projects online. I browse hardware stores near where I work, thinking, thinking. I get dangerous ideas into my head. I can do THAT! I can make a custom cabinet! I can stencil pretty designs around the top edges of the dining room walls! I can tile a backsplash for the kitchen sink!
The reality is I'm handy, but not THAT handy. I may have to do what everyone else does and pay a professional.
The thought process usually goes something like this: We need shelves and matching "in bins" above or near the dining room table so we can reduce the clutter currently covering the dining room table. Okay, but before that happens, I have to paint the dining room walls. Do we have enough primer and color paint left? What color paint should I use? Do I need to go to Home Depot?
What am I going to do about that corner? Should I move the kitty litter boxes there, out of the kitchen? I COULD hang the ladder above the closet (ladder is currently in the kitchen). At this point I get out measuring tape and measure. Yes, that would work. What kind of hooks? Do I need to go to Home Depot?
What about hanging a curtain between the door and the closet area and between the dining room table and the closet area -- to make it like a separate little "room" for the cats? Would the cats like this? Would they find their litter soon enough? Would the litter be too close to dining room? Will the curtains block the dust?
What about the area on the other side of the couch? I could put down a board, put the litter THERE, curtain THAT area off for the cats. Then they'd drag debris through the living room... Maybe instead of a board I'll get a large plastic ribbed mat so they can wipe their feet. Might have to go to Home Depot...
What about my work area? I need a table for my crafts. Should the table be in the area near the (proposed) kitty litter area? Or should I set it up on the other side of the couch? What about shelves over my computer table. I need to paint the walls first. Do we have enough primer? ... Home Depot...
Etc., etc.
I don't spend HOURS watching home improvement shows, but I do watch them occasionally, and I look at tons of magazines and do-it-yourself projects online. I browse hardware stores near where I work, thinking, thinking. I get dangerous ideas into my head. I can do THAT! I can make a custom cabinet! I can stencil pretty designs around the top edges of the dining room walls! I can tile a backsplash for the kitchen sink!
The reality is I'm handy, but not THAT handy. I may have to do what everyone else does and pay a professional.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Not a moron! An epic tale with a happy ending
Last week browsing a fabric store, I found some pretty but inexpensive material. 
I needed new curtains, and, shopping for them over the last few weeks, I wasn't finding the correct dimensions. So I decided to make them myself. A simple project, right? Three hems, and a larger folded-over pocket on top through which to slip the curtain rod.
First I drill the holes for the curtain rod hanger. This is drywall, so I'm using plastic anchors. I've done this many times before. It's cake. I drill three holes, slip the anchors in, no problem. On the fourth hole, I'm drilling and drilling and I hit something (the stud?) too tough for my drill to go through. I give up. I screw the bracket in with one screw missing. I let it go. The curtains and the rod itself are light. It will be fine.
On to the curtain. I measure, mark the hems, iron, pin, then start making the hems using my handy-dandy roll of Magic Tape. I love Magic Tape. It will let me finish these curtains in no time. La la la la la. Ironing, taping, ironing, taping. First panel side hems done. I go to second panel and ... I run out of Magic Tape.
Shit. No, no problem. I finish the side hems with another type of iron-on adhesive tape I had sitting around in my sewing kit. This tape is not as strong as the Magic Tape; it doesn't hold as well. Fine for the sides, but I'll have to get out my sewing machine for the top pocket.
I pin and prepare the top flap. The sewing machine's already threaded so I start to sew. First one gets done real quick. Second one, I start having bobbin trouble. "Fuck!" I lose the bobbin thread, have to start over. I manage to finish the second panel's top pockets, so all that's left now are the bottom hems. This "quick" project has now taken several hours. Back at the sewing machine, I have more trouble. "Fuck!" The machine has started to eat the material. "Dammit..."
"What?" Rad says from across the room.
"This sewing machine's jammed up!" Sigh. "I must be a moron!"
"Don't say that! You are not a moron. Why are you saying that?"
I'm certainly frustrated, that's for sure. These "simple" curtains are taking forever! "Millions of women use sewing machines every day! Why can't I figure out how to properly use mine?" (This is not the first time I've had sewing machine problems).
Rad says, "Millions of men know how to do construction; I don't. Does that make ME a moron?"
Good point. Rad is certainly not a moron. Me, on the other hand ... the jury is still out.
At this point, I take a break, because I have to go to a meeting. Curtains are NOT going to be complete before then. More cursing. "Fuck it, I'll hand-sew them when I get back," I say.
An hour later, I'm home and that's what I sit down to do. I'm determined to get these curtains finished and hung!
But the first needle is defective and it bends when I try to push it through a thick edge of fabric. I locate a second needle, which slips out of my hand as I am trying to thread it. Nowhere to be found. Is it on the chair? My clothes? The floor? We can't have someone stepping on it later; must find it now. I get out a flashlight and shine it around the area to catch a glint of metal.
"Ooh! What's that light?!!" my cat Buster says, and he comes rushing over. (Okay, he didn't say that out loud). He's chasing the light while Rad and I are searching for the damn needle. Fat cat Rocky is just watching the whole farce -- he couldn't be bothered to move. Buster calms down momentarily. "The needle's probably right under Buster," Rad says. We look some more. Buster finally moves. "Here it is!" Rad says. Right under Buster. Terrific!
Nothing is going to stop me now. I sew the bottom hems by hand, which takes about a half hour, maybe 45 minutes. And -- at last -- I have new curtains!
They look nice, don't they? (Yes, our kitchen walls are very yellow). This all wouldn't be so bad if the curtains weren't supposed to be the first of three or four other projects I was going to do on Sunday. Ha!!! Baby steps. I trudge forward...
I needed new curtains, and, shopping for them over the last few weeks, I wasn't finding the correct dimensions. So I decided to make them myself. A simple project, right? Three hems, and a larger folded-over pocket on top through which to slip the curtain rod.First I drill the holes for the curtain rod hanger. This is drywall, so I'm using plastic anchors. I've done this many times before. It's cake. I drill three holes, slip the anchors in, no problem. On the fourth hole, I'm drilling and drilling and I hit something (the stud?) too tough for my drill to go through. I give up. I screw the bracket in with one screw missing. I let it go. The curtains and the rod itself are light. It will be fine.
On to the curtain. I measure, mark the hems, iron, pin, then start making the hems using my handy-dandy roll of Magic Tape. I love Magic Tape. It will let me finish these curtains in no time. La la la la la. Ironing, taping, ironing, taping. First panel side hems done. I go to second panel and ... I run out of Magic Tape.
Shit. No, no problem. I finish the side hems with another type of iron-on adhesive tape I had sitting around in my sewing kit. This tape is not as strong as the Magic Tape; it doesn't hold as well. Fine for the sides, but I'll have to get out my sewing machine for the top pocket.
I pin and prepare the top flap. The sewing machine's already threaded so I start to sew. First one gets done real quick. Second one, I start having bobbin trouble. "Fuck!" I lose the bobbin thread, have to start over. I manage to finish the second panel's top pockets, so all that's left now are the bottom hems. This "quick" project has now taken several hours. Back at the sewing machine, I have more trouble. "Fuck!" The machine has started to eat the material. "Dammit..."
"What?" Rad says from across the room.
"This sewing machine's jammed up!" Sigh. "I must be a moron!"
"Don't say that! You are not a moron. Why are you saying that?"
I'm certainly frustrated, that's for sure. These "simple" curtains are taking forever! "Millions of women use sewing machines every day! Why can't I figure out how to properly use mine?" (This is not the first time I've had sewing machine problems).
Rad says, "Millions of men know how to do construction; I don't. Does that make ME a moron?"
Good point. Rad is certainly not a moron. Me, on the other hand ... the jury is still out.
At this point, I take a break, because I have to go to a meeting. Curtains are NOT going to be complete before then. More cursing. "Fuck it, I'll hand-sew them when I get back," I say.
An hour later, I'm home and that's what I sit down to do. I'm determined to get these curtains finished and hung!
But the first needle is defective and it bends when I try to push it through a thick edge of fabric. I locate a second needle, which slips out of my hand as I am trying to thread it. Nowhere to be found. Is it on the chair? My clothes? The floor? We can't have someone stepping on it later; must find it now. I get out a flashlight and shine it around the area to catch a glint of metal.
"Ooh! What's that light?!!" my cat Buster says, and he comes rushing over. (Okay, he didn't say that out loud). He's chasing the light while Rad and I are searching for the damn needle. Fat cat Rocky is just watching the whole farce -- he couldn't be bothered to move. Buster calms down momentarily. "The needle's probably right under Buster," Rad says. We look some more. Buster finally moves. "Here it is!" Rad says. Right under Buster. Terrific!Nothing is going to stop me now. I sew the bottom hems by hand, which takes about a half hour, maybe 45 minutes. And -- at last -- I have new curtains!
They look nice, don't they? (Yes, our kitchen walls are very yellow). This all wouldn't be so bad if the curtains weren't supposed to be the first of three or four other projects I was going to do on Sunday. Ha!!! Baby steps. I trudge forward...
Polyspankorous
Rad and I have talked at various times before about our frustration with playing (the lack thereof) at our apartment. We go out and play when we can. We like playing in public (and showing off), so we'll be at Paddles about once or twice a month, and usually at some other spanking party every month or so.
We both play with others as well, and this allows us to explore things we might not explore with each other, or experience a different style of play, or simply get more play time in during a party.
Sometimes, though, every once in a while, I still feel guilty about playing with other doms. I'll think, "Why do I have to play with these guys? Doesn't Rad give me what I need? Isn't that enough? Am I greedy?"
We are not polyamorous in the sexual sense, but I'd say we are "ethical sluts" in that we play with others within certain boundaries, making all efforts not to do things to hurt the other person. Jealousy and neediness sometimes roar their ugly heads at a play party. Either one of us could succumb to that -- and both of us have, at various points. We talk through it and it's okay. I want him to feel free to seek out scenes with whomever he wants to top. He's given me the same freedom. We don't always talk about our scenes with others, and it's pretty rare that we watch each other play, but those options are available.
At the end of the day, we are a team.
We both play with others as well, and this allows us to explore things we might not explore with each other, or experience a different style of play, or simply get more play time in during a party.
Sometimes, though, every once in a while, I still feel guilty about playing with other doms. I'll think, "Why do I have to play with these guys? Doesn't Rad give me what I need? Isn't that enough? Am I greedy?"
We are not polyamorous in the sexual sense, but I'd say we are "ethical sluts" in that we play with others within certain boundaries, making all efforts not to do things to hurt the other person. Jealousy and neediness sometimes roar their ugly heads at a play party. Either one of us could succumb to that -- and both of us have, at various points. We talk through it and it's okay. I want him to feel free to seek out scenes with whomever he wants to top. He's given me the same freedom. We don't always talk about our scenes with others, and it's pretty rare that we watch each other play, but those options are available.
At the end of the day, we are a team.
Fear and longing in Queens
I've been having difficulty writing, feel blocked, not able to get deep into my emotions the way I'd really like to, and I'm trying to pinpoint why.
I have some ideas why. Part of it has to do with expressing a desire to the world and being ignored. I don't want my desires ignored, left echoing off the walls of my own head. "Hello? Hello? Is there anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? (hear me... hear me... hear me... )"
Beyond my fear of being ignored there is the fear of ridicule, of being put down. Paranoid, perhaps; perhaps not...
Third is my fear (which often becomes reality) that some who hear my desires expressed will offer to fulfill my needs ... but they won't seem "right" to me. I won't feel comfortable agreeing to a scene with a particular person. Then I'll have to say no, which is always awkward. And my search will continue.
And what is it exactly that I want? Let's try to describe it: I want my control taken from me, my submission demanded. Pain. Humiliation. To be brought down to the depths and to be made to suffer ... by someone I trust will then bring me back up from that place, release me to an even higher plane than where we started; someone who will not take this lightly, who will understand that it's not about sex, or play, or even just pain; someone who understands where he's taking me and wants to take me there.
Oh, but I forgot my fourth fear -- the fear of myself. Can I still do it? Will my body betray me? Will I chicken out too early? Those who've played with me will know that I don't often call mercy, but it is a struggle for me. I don't take it peacefully. I make a lot of noise. I may fight and resist. I may need to be gagged or tied down, if my struggling and noise bothers someone.
I know there are doms who understand this, some of whom I know read my blog. Kind, intelligent, fun, decent people who can slip into this role (and who want to slip into this role, who really enjoy this role, and aren't playing just because they like woman's butts).
Needless to say, Rad's one of those doms. As we approach the Shadow Lane party, I know of others that I'll be playing with there. The in-between times are tough. Asking for what I want is tough. But now I've put it out there.
Hello? Hello?
I have some ideas why. Part of it has to do with expressing a desire to the world and being ignored. I don't want my desires ignored, left echoing off the walls of my own head. "Hello? Hello? Is there anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? (hear me... hear me... hear me... )"
Beyond my fear of being ignored there is the fear of ridicule, of being put down. Paranoid, perhaps; perhaps not...
Third is my fear (which often becomes reality) that some who hear my desires expressed will offer to fulfill my needs ... but they won't seem "right" to me. I won't feel comfortable agreeing to a scene with a particular person. Then I'll have to say no, which is always awkward. And my search will continue.
And what is it exactly that I want? Let's try to describe it: I want my control taken from me, my submission demanded. Pain. Humiliation. To be brought down to the depths and to be made to suffer ... by someone I trust will then bring me back up from that place, release me to an even higher plane than where we started; someone who will not take this lightly, who will understand that it's not about sex, or play, or even just pain; someone who understands where he's taking me and wants to take me there.
Oh, but I forgot my fourth fear -- the fear of myself. Can I still do it? Will my body betray me? Will I chicken out too early? Those who've played with me will know that I don't often call mercy, but it is a struggle for me. I don't take it peacefully. I make a lot of noise. I may fight and resist. I may need to be gagged or tied down, if my struggling and noise bothers someone.
I know there are doms who understand this, some of whom I know read my blog. Kind, intelligent, fun, decent people who can slip into this role (and who want to slip into this role, who really enjoy this role, and aren't playing just because they like woman's butts).
Needless to say, Rad's one of those doms. As we approach the Shadow Lane party, I know of others that I'll be playing with there. The in-between times are tough. Asking for what I want is tough. But now I've put it out there.
Hello? Hello?
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Have to go to work, now.
Yesterday I had a comp day, so I went over to New Jersey to do a private scene.
When I got back, Rad had something to discuss with me. This discussion was to have taken place on Saturday night at Paddles, but that was not to be. He wanted to address my perennial lateness. He likes to leave the house at 7 a.m. on the dot; it often is closer to 7:02, 7:04, and last week it was a little bit later, once as late as 7:15 (I think that's the latest it's been, however). I play with it because HE doesn't have to be at work till 10 a.m. and my bosses are flexible about a few minutes here and there since I tend to stay late and sometimes work through lunch.
But Rad likes to go to Starbucks with me to have coffee in the morning before I get on the train, so leaving the house late means less time together at Starbucks. (Isn't he sweet?)
Long story short, I got the hairbrush. No warmup. Hard, and FAST. I was struggling but he made me take it. Wow, that hurt! I lay there afterwards breathing heavy. It took me a while to recover. I promised to be a good girl from that day forward. And then... he rewarded me... !!!
Guess I better get ready for work, now.
When I got back, Rad had something to discuss with me. This discussion was to have taken place on Saturday night at Paddles, but that was not to be. He wanted to address my perennial lateness. He likes to leave the house at 7 a.m. on the dot; it often is closer to 7:02, 7:04, and last week it was a little bit later, once as late as 7:15 (I think that's the latest it's been, however). I play with it because HE doesn't have to be at work till 10 a.m. and my bosses are flexible about a few minutes here and there since I tend to stay late and sometimes work through lunch.
But Rad likes to go to Starbucks with me to have coffee in the morning before I get on the train, so leaving the house late means less time together at Starbucks. (Isn't he sweet?)
Long story short, I got the hairbrush. No warmup. Hard, and FAST. I was struggling but he made me take it. Wow, that hurt! I lay there afterwards breathing heavy. It took me a while to recover. I promised to be a good girl from that day forward. And then... he rewarded me... !!!
Guess I better get ready for work, now.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Discovered a new writing blog
A commenter on Rad's blog, Brian, has started a dialog with me as well on This Cat is Crazy; he's got a writing blog, "Truth is Freedom," with frequently updated "writing prompts" to get one's creative juices flowing. He posted a link to this in my comments section, but I just wanted to reprint what he'd written about jazz, in particular, the saxaphone:
"The Saxophone is,
Sad news (which you already know if you read Rad's blog) is that we did NOT make it to Paddles last night (both too tired) and I still need a spanking. Sigh.
"The Saxophone is,
Notes like a lovers spanking, over knee bare bottom arching high crisp smacks falling on smooth flesh growing warm and red ’til hot flames scorch the sky."
So. Hm. I DO like jazz saxophone; I've been getting into Dexter Gordon lately and who doesn't like John Coltraine (A Love Supreme)? -- but honestly I never made THAT connection. Actually I think jazz is very appropriate for setting a good spanking mood. At Paddles they tend to play a lot of techno. That has its place -- it can get you into a good head space for a good thrashing -- but I doubt I'd ever choose to listen to techno at home.So this week's prompts on Brian's blog are:
Prompt A (which is always a prompt, he says) is: “Tell us what’s really on your mind.”
Prompt B is: “What book, movie, song or any other artistic expression made the greatest impact on your young mind?”
I'm heading out to the beach this morning with my girlfriend; bringing my latest book and, of course, a notebook for writing. I've jotted these prompts down on the top of a clean page, will see what develops later.Sad news (which you already know if you read Rad's blog) is that we did NOT make it to Paddles last night (both too tired) and I still need a spanking. Sigh.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Bad monkey's in trouble!
The Bad Monkey's coming out to play tonight. Rad and I are going to Paddles NYC for OTK night, of course. He promised to punish me in public for being late leaving for work almost every day this week (only a few minutes at most, but still, it was WRONG of me! -- am I not taking this seriously enough? I guess I'll find out later tonight!)
Yes, all is well and good NOW. But tonight, he's threatened to strap and cane me! Oh, noooooooooooooooooo!!!!!
Well, I guess I'll just try to be GOOD for the rest of the day. Is that possible? I made the coffee this morning, fixed his cup the way he likes it, I was all "wifely" and nice. He'll return the favor, I'm sure.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Some people CAN take a hint
I hinted to Rad, by leaving a comment on his blog tonight, that I needed a spanking, and right away he goes and tells me to get the bath brush. Now, come on! Oh, yes, he felt it necessary to give me what I asked for. It was very stingy, especially when he peeled my panties down.
Well, I was sort of a bad girl today. On the R train to Astoria after work, I kind of overreacted to some girls who were making too much noise. Talking extremely loud, back and forth to each other, just going on and on about the most banal of topics. I didn't do much except, after several minutes of their nonsense, finally uttering loudly, "Jesus Christ!" (Taking the Lord's name in vain, tsk tsk.) But really, did I need to have some little bitch yelling practically in my ear (to her friend) about her HAIR and the products she's using on it? It was enough to make anyone snap.
So what happened? They started the bullying. There isn't much else you can call it. (Kind of like high school -- good times!) "Hey, we can talk loud if we want to!" "Yeah! If you don't like it, take a cab!" "Yeah, take a cab!" (They were nasty, just not very bright about it). I acted cool, waved my hand backwards at them. "Yeah, whatever, it's all good!" Inside, I was SEETHING. Of course they can talk loudly "if they want to," and I can mutter curses at them "if I want to"... see how it works? No, they don't, because of course "free speech" only goes as far as THEIR free speech...
Sigh. But anyway, back to the bath brush spanking. Rad says I react too quickly to things and don't pick my battles. He's right. I have an i-Pod and I should turn it on more often. I DON'T always do that, because to drown out other noise it means turning my music up beyond my normal level of comfortability, and then it's hard to concentrate on the reading I like to do on the train. However, sometimes that IS the best option, so I am going to try to do that more often to prevent future altercations. I didn't let this one escalate (honestly, I was too scared to let it escalate), but it was bad enough. I felt like a fool afterward.
So yes, I needed the spanking, and it was nice ... but as usual, we couldn't play too hard in the apartment. Rad "told" me to bring my school uniform to change into tomorrow night at Paddles. It's OTK night again. He said he needed to deal with my "tardiness" (another character defect; man, I seem to be exhibiting a lot of them lately) in front of the whole "school."
I'll report back on how tomorrow goes.
Well, I was sort of a bad girl today. On the R train to Astoria after work, I kind of overreacted to some girls who were making too much noise. Talking extremely loud, back and forth to each other, just going on and on about the most banal of topics. I didn't do much except, after several minutes of their nonsense, finally uttering loudly, "Jesus Christ!" (Taking the Lord's name in vain, tsk tsk.) But really, did I need to have some little bitch yelling practically in my ear (to her friend) about her HAIR and the products she's using on it? It was enough to make anyone snap.
So what happened? They started the bullying. There isn't much else you can call it. (Kind of like high school -- good times!) "Hey, we can talk loud if we want to!" "Yeah! If you don't like it, take a cab!" "Yeah, take a cab!" (They were nasty, just not very bright about it). I acted cool, waved my hand backwards at them. "Yeah, whatever, it's all good!" Inside, I was SEETHING. Of course they can talk loudly "if they want to," and I can mutter curses at them "if I want to"... see how it works? No, they don't, because of course "free speech" only goes as far as THEIR free speech...
Sigh. But anyway, back to the bath brush spanking. Rad says I react too quickly to things and don't pick my battles. He's right. I have an i-Pod and I should turn it on more often. I DON'T always do that, because to drown out other noise it means turning my music up beyond my normal level of comfortability, and then it's hard to concentrate on the reading I like to do on the train. However, sometimes that IS the best option, so I am going to try to do that more often to prevent future altercations. I didn't let this one escalate (honestly, I was too scared to let it escalate), but it was bad enough. I felt like a fool afterward.
So yes, I needed the spanking, and it was nice ... but as usual, we couldn't play too hard in the apartment. Rad "told" me to bring my school uniform to change into tomorrow night at Paddles. It's OTK night again. He said he needed to deal with my "tardiness" (another character defect; man, I seem to be exhibiting a lot of them lately) in front of the whole "school."
I'll report back on how tomorrow goes.
Pussy Galore!
Well by now most of you have probably seen or hear of (Captain/Princess) Chunk, and if not, well, here she -- I mean HE -- is in all his glory:
The animal shelter that took him in (in my home county in South Jersey!) first thought he was a boy and named him Captain Chunk. Then they thought she was a girl so they renamed her Princess Chunk. But when she appeared on Regis and Kelly yesterday, a vet determined this 44-pound hunk of pure cathood was, after all a boy.
My Rocky was a little upset that I'd stuck pictures of Chunk on my cubicle walls. He's a bit depressed that he hasn't achieved similar glory and fame. He's ONLY 22 pounds! So I gave him lots of cuddle time when I got home last night.
I have nothing "real" to write about. I'm pretty dry this week, and I don't know why. I had a good therapy session last night where we talked about my creative block -- I haven't been playing my guitar, or working on mosaics, or writing very much. My plans for home improvement projects are pretty much at a standstill, too. Doing lots of reading and not enough DOING.
Work isn't too bad; my new boss seems OK (after two weeks; time will tell); the higher-up boss is still driving us all crazy, making TONS of copy changes at blueline stage (aka, the very last minute) and CLAIMING she didn't get to read the issue earlier. I call BULLSHIT. She had the issue when she was supposed to have the issue, plenty of time to read it. We, the lowerlings, are simply planning to get the new boss on our sides so similar nonsense will not happen in the future. It may or may not work. Oh, look, here's my boss on the internet.
The animal shelter that took him in (in my home county in South Jersey!) first thought he was a boy and named him Captain Chunk. Then they thought she was a girl so they renamed her Princess Chunk. But when she appeared on Regis and Kelly yesterday, a vet determined this 44-pound hunk of pure cathood was, after all a boy.
My Rocky was a little upset that I'd stuck pictures of Chunk on my cubicle walls. He's a bit depressed that he hasn't achieved similar glory and fame. He's ONLY 22 pounds! So I gave him lots of cuddle time when I got home last night.
I have nothing "real" to write about. I'm pretty dry this week, and I don't know why. I had a good therapy session last night where we talked about my creative block -- I haven't been playing my guitar, or working on mosaics, or writing very much. My plans for home improvement projects are pretty much at a standstill, too. Doing lots of reading and not enough DOING.
Work isn't too bad; my new boss seems OK (after two weeks; time will tell); the higher-up boss is still driving us all crazy, making TONS of copy changes at blueline stage (aka, the very last minute) and CLAIMING she didn't get to read the issue earlier. I call BULLSHIT. She had the issue when she was supposed to have the issue, plenty of time to read it. We, the lowerlings, are simply planning to get the new boss on our sides so similar nonsense will not happen in the future. It may or may not work. Oh, look, here's my boss on the internet.
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