So, I am thinking I am going to actually have to set up a timeline and stick to it for a while with regards to posting on this blog… I have had a bunch going on, but I need to write some of it out or risk going insane. So, for the next week, I am going to be posting something everyday, be it something relationship-y, or answers to questions, or whateveer, but from now until the 19th, something will be up each day dear readers. so *muah* loves and hugs and I hope you enjoy.
Soooo looong. I have not written in a long while for a variety of reasons. My daughter, Bear, has had many medical issues flaring up since the beginning of the year, and I have been spending much time and energy on that. She is doing well now, however, and so yeah.
I have been trying to sort out where things sit with Hart, as well as beginning to hang out with Nightengale again, and the people from my local kink community whom I had lost contact with. I am also at the beginning of the road with Pet, my new boy, new potential sub, etc. (More to come about him tomorrow 😉 )
Sooo at any rate Aunty Slutty has returned, ALLO!!
LOL Ok, so for this addition of Wanton Wednesday I decided to tell everyone to KISS MY ASS… ok so not really, but here are some pictures of it in new undies 😉
HAPPY WANTON WEDNESDAY Y’ALL!!!
So, I had been having a great weekend with the minions (my kids), despite being at my parents… Until this morning.
A little background, I started a new job a few weeks ago, doing insurance claim processing with a fairly conservative company. Well, about a week ago, I got reprimanded by the hiring manager for asking too many questions in our training class and because apparently I offended someone because I scratch my skin a lot (my meds send a psuedo-itchiness signal to my brain, making me think I’m itchy when I’m not.) So all of last week I was super self-conscious, very afraid to talk at all and afraid that any time I touched my own skin that I was ‘scratching too much’.
Ok, so that brings us to this morning. I woke up and checked my professional email (out of habit). I had a letter from the same manager, apparently this Friday, someone complained to her because I rub at the scars I have on my legs and arms, and because I refer to myself as a ‘fat chick’. They apparently are ‘concerned’ that I am a threat to myself because my scars ‘indicate a possibly troubled person’. She stated that if my physical habits and appearance continue to be an issue that I will be asked to step down from my position.
Wow, that really makes me feel like shit. I really don’t think I should have to explain to MY EMPLOYER why I have a large number of scars… I have scars because I’m on meds that slow my body’s natural healing process. I have scars because I had a mental breakdown and tried to kill myself. I have scars because I was attacked, thrown through a glass window, and my head was kicked in. I have scars because I had a father who beat the shit out of me. I refer to myself as a fat chick because I have regained almost 80 lbs in the last year and a half and am extremely uncomfortable with my appearance right now. Should I have to explain any of this?
It’s things like this that honestly make me wish I HADN’T gotten help. Feeling like a total flake and liar when I have to explain moving back to the Springs as “Oh, I had some personal issues and had to move back in with my parents” or people looking at me like I have the plague if I explain what actually happened. Not being able to wear anything that shows my legs without people who I don’t know commenting on my scars and being ‘concerned’ for me because their sister’s ex husband’s second cousin four times removed was a cutter and they KNOW I shouldn’t do that to myself. Having people look at me like I’m a psychopath when I talk to myself and say that no one there will hurt me, when I mess with the scars on my head or press against my eyes because they hurt, or have dark circles under my eyes because my anti-nightmarial medicine didn’t work the night before, so I didn’t sleep…
I hate feeling like I’ll never belong…
Some titles we have tossed around for potential house parties:
- Pizza and Porn
- Booze and Boobs
- A Very Bukkake Birthday
- Gangbangs and Guacamole
- Pirate Porn Party
- Drunken Dredel (actually did that last year at a friend’s house)
- Banana banana banana banana rum
- Whiskey and Whips
- Party in My Pants, and Everyone’s Invited (Gangbang or swinger party
I recently read a list from Men’s Health titled, “50 Things Women Wish Men Knew”. Well, I don’t agree with a lot of the ‘things’ so I’m writing a personal list.
- Screw coffee, invite me to go to the soda shop or Sno-Cone shack with you. I am lactose intolerant, and can’t have most of the stuff from Starbucks.
- I hate it when people invite me out on a date, and then spend the time on their cell phones. Unless you are trying to show ME something, I am more important than your texts.
- I find bards HIGHLY sexy. Sing me a song, tell me a story, dance, or play a guitar to get my attention.
- Come up behind me, hug me around the waist, and kiss my neck, and you can pretty much get whatever you want.
- I’m a sucker for chivalry. If you speak softly and kiss my hand, I melt. Open doors, it makes me happy.
- I am just as afraid to hit on you as you are to hit on me.
- I notice kindness. I also notice ass-hattery. I keep it quiet that I notice either.
- I wouldn’t have gone on a date with you if I didn’t see value in you, don’t continue berating yourself, and talking about how “You don’t see what I could possibly see in you”, it makes me think perhaps I was wrong.
- Every girl’s crazy bout a sharp dressed man, especially this girl.
- I like a nicely put together person, not a metro guy who takes longer to get ready than me. I’m low maintenance. Including make-up, it takes me under 20 minutes to get ready… 30 if I need a shower.
- I’m poly. It doesn’t mean you will mean any less to me just because I love other people too.
- I have only ever gotten flowers from two people. I love flowers, it will set you apart.
- I hate oral on me, please stop trying to do it. It just annoys me and no, you really DON’T know some secret trick.
- I like sex, porn, and foreplay A LOT. This doesn’t mean I ALWAYS want sex, stop pestering, it’s unattractive.
- Unless you are very teeny tiny downstairs, I genuinely DON’T CARE how big your Johnson is. Stop worrying.
- I generally put out on the first date, unless you fuck up.
- I am not a booty call technician. If you invite me out for a date, I’m gonna be mighty pissed if you invite me to your bedroom before we go anywhere.
- I wear short skirts, low-cut tops, high heels, and form-fitting clothing for a reason. Feel free to compliment me accordingly.
- “God your tits look good” is NOT a good compliment.
- If you EVER call me a cunt, whore, cum dumpster, etc., expect to get kicked in the shins, HARD.
- If you treat my family like crap, you have NO shot with me.
- Don’t ask my opinion if you aren’t prepared for any answer.
- If you can’t make decisions, I will. Either don’t bitch about my decision, or make the decision yourself.
- I love movies and movie theaters. There are no categories of movies I DON’T watch.
- Chick flicks are the lowest movie category on the list.
- I’m a geek. I love WoW, ancient history, art, books, board games, Dr. Horrible, Firefly, Dr. Who, Monty Python, and many other geeky things.
- I don’t mind if you play video games, but it is still a game. I am more important.
- I highly dislike watching sports. If I leave the room, you haven’t done something wrong. It’s me, not you.
- I love to cook. I also love a man who cooks for me.
- I like sex rough. REALLY rough.
- I will ask you if I look nice. I may still change even if you say yes. Don’t take this as a personal insult.
- “Does this look good on me?” is NOT a trick question. I want an honest answer, if I look like crap, tell me.
- I am not hesitant to talk about much. If I am, it’s probably for damned good reason. Don’t push.
- If I say I am “Fine”, I’m not. If I say I’m “peachy”, fucking run!
- Sarcasm and picking on you means I like you.
- I’m poly, not a robot. I still get jealous. I still get insecure. I still like to feel special.
- My nipples belong on my body, they are NOT meant to be torn from me and thrown beneath my curio cabinet.
- You have common courtesy from me until you prove you don’t deserve it. Likewise, you do not have my respect until you have proven you DO deserve it.
- I hate the terms “holla”, “ey mami”,”sooki sooki”, and “hey bitches”
- Febreeze was invented for a reason, please for the love of the gods, if your domicile smells like B.O., weed, sex, ass, or last weeks taco night, spritz accordingly if you know I’m going to visit.
- I’m bi. I like men and women. I stare at, hit on, and enjoy the company of both. This DOES NOT mean I hit on anything with a human pulse. I still have taste.
- I’m a klutz. Please don’t make a huge ‘thing’ of it. It makes me feel stupid.
- I am definition based. Ambiguity annoys me to no end. If you love me, tell me. If you don’t want to see me again, don’t tell me you’ll call me.
- I may not like how I look, but I am comfortable with my body. Modesty isn’t my strong point.
- I love the great outdoors. I love to hike, camp, and spend time outside.
- I like to snuggle, and get pet on, a lot.
- I don’t own pants… stop joking how cold I must be every time you see me in a skirt.
- I may be a slut, but I’m still a lady.
- Manly men make me happy.
- Open communication is the key with me, if you are ambiguous with me, expect the same with me.
So, I decided to do something a bit different for my WW picture for this week. I haven’t played in a while because I have been trying to find who I am. I have never really known who I am inside and it’s really hard sometimes to face the faults you have, the mistakes you’ve made. This is me unscripted, real, and un-retouched.
I’m the girl with the stomach she hates because it is round and bumpy, not flat.
I’m the girl who runs around naked because I hate how most clothes look on me.
I’m the girl with the bruised thigh and the skinned knee because I run into everything.
I’m the girl who is the cutter that everyone saw smiling, because I didn’t want anyone to know I wasn’t ‘together’.
I’m the girl with the fun shoes because they remind me on the outside not to hurt so much on the inside.
So, the delightful religious company known as Focus on the Family, has made the decision to be the backing force behind The Day of Dialogue.
This is an anti-gay protest. It was originally started as a counter-protest to the The Day of Silence, an anti-bullying protest, wherein the participants do not speak for the day as a show of support for the GLBT people who are afraid to speak up about being bullied.
I am so utterly disgusted. Focus on the Family and the original founders of this ‘counter-protest’, Exodus International, missed the mother-fucking boat. Though I do commend the people at Exodus for deciding to drop the event after the recent rash of highly publicized gay teen suicides. The point of The Day of Silence, was NOT a pro-gay event but rather an anti-discrimination event.
Telling teens that they have the ‘opportunity’ to take a stand against gays, and “express the true model presented by Jesus Christ in the Bible against homosexuality” (per the Day of Dialogue website) is irresponsible and a complete show of jack-assery. Focus on the Family, have you READ your Bible? Because last I checked Jesus was all about love, acceptance, and hanging out with people who didn’t agree with him. Last I checked he was about making sure people knew they were welcome with loving arms by his God.
How much of the general populus of the Focus company knows that the Bible NEVER definitively disapproves of homosexuality? In the Bible every example of female homosexuality involves females THAT ARE RELATED, in these instances, the incest is condemned, NOT the act of being with another woman. In every instance where male homosexuality is involved, the word used is arsenokoite. Arsenokoite also translates to male prostitute and male-on-male rapist. Is it not FAR MORE LIKELY that the verses can be translated that rapists of men and male prostitutes are not approved by their God, as are female prostitutes and rapists of women? THESE people ARE condemned by the Bible, in multiple verses, in several dozen stories within the Bible… juuust sayin. The first translation of the Bible wherein male homosexuality was the ‘interpretation’ of arsenokoite, was a translation by the English, who at the time of translation were at war with Greece, who were notoriously known as ‘boy lovers’… hmmmm…. possible passive aggressiveness much?
My point in this rant is the following, Focus on the Family is claiming that they will, for this event, “offer students the facts (about homosexuality) to engage a dialogue.” To me it sounds more like they will present their opinion of homosexuality to create a more socially acceptable label to hate. I understand that some Christians feel that homosexuality is wrong. I understand that many of those who do feel that way, feel homosexuality is a choice. There are more productive ways to go about trying to change the minds of the ‘poor poor lost gay souls’. Perhaps being loving. Perhaps inviting them to your church. Perhaps inviting them to your home for dinner for an active debate. Perhaps not creating and sponsoring a day of hate and rhetoric. Perhaps not putting words into the mouth of YOUR God.
I think if Jesus had seen the hate that was occurring in his name today, he would again up-turn the tables of the town-square and cry in disgust at the pure ugliness of those in the religious majority of this nation. Offering young people an opportunity to publicly join together to hate another group of people is appalling and burns me to the depths. It disgusts me as much as an anti-straight, anti-white, anti-black, anti-muslim, anti-pagan, or anti-christian protest would. I am astounded that anything this horrific would be carried on in the name of a God.
“Jesus wept.” ~ John 11:35
As some of my friends know, I have an extreme… fascination/ obsession with men’s shaving, heads, faces, I love it all. I can explain in much more detail, but I think I’ll let this fantasy do the explaining…
The sun shines warm through my shop window, as I sit and wait for the next willing customer. I start to get anxious and sweep the floor again, waiting…waiting…
Finally, He walks through my entry, stretching lazily and rubbing his tired neck. “The full treatment today S, and please don’t leave anything out” , He groans as he plops into my leather barbers’ chair. He closes his eyes and waits for what’s next.
I put the sheet across his shoulders and chest, being careful to keep his neck exposed. gently raking my nails over his bald head as I pass behind him. I place the warm damp towels, scented with sandalwood and clove over his head, face, and neck. The aroma lifting across the shop like a call to manly relaxation. As his muscles unknot, I carefully pare his fingernails, and buff them to a sheen, rubbing birch lotion into his calloused hands.
I pull my pearl-handled straight razor from its case, today is Thursday, it’s even emblazoned into the gleaming blade. I run the razor back and forth in careful caresses on the worn leather strop, making it precise and dangerous. I prepare the musky soap cake in the shiny steel bowl. A basin of steaming hot water sits filled beside it.
Removing the towel from His head, I brush a rich lather onto his skull. I carefully work the curves of his head with the straight edge. The rough sound of the blade against the stubble making me shiver in contentment. I breathe in the rich, manly scent of my products mixed with his cologne. I sigh, as he smiles beneath the towels. I finish playing with his brain, and remove the warm cotton cloth from his face and neck, I again create a cream between my fingers and the cake, and brush it onto his face and neck.
I then come in front of him, and straddle his legs, so that I am sitting on his lap. I run my blade repeatedly over each contour, each rough spot. I take care at his sideburns. I am delicate across the curve of his chin, and sliding up his neck. I purr and sigh as the pulse shows up at his jaw line. The crisp snip of the scissors, trimming his goatee. I squirm to get a better angle, my wiping towel brushing against my breasts. I lean in close, my hard nipples pushing against him, as I make certain I’ve not missed a spot. He takes in the scent of my hair as I run my hands over his head and cheeks looking for mistakes. I reach behind him for the aftershave lotion, and he runs his teeth across my breast. I rub the lotion dutifully into his soft skin. I rise from his lap and brush off his pants with a hand, taking the time to pause for one brief rub across his fly. I shake the excess from the cover cloth, and hold back a step as he rises.
“Thanks S. You’re the best, and you give one mean shave, girl,” He pats my ass and slips forty into my bra as he glides past, the scent of man lingering as he waltzes out my front door.