Monday, November 29, 2004

(Mostly Grumpy) Tidbits...


Gun season started today. I'm not going.


Money is getting tight again. Feelings of hopelessness and despair are taking over, much as I try to be optimistic. The woe is me, we'll be in debt forever, I'll be stuck at this job forever feelings. So much for my Christmas spirit. I don't want to spend any more money on Christmas. I don't want to spend any more money on anything. The house needs a lot of things, and that isn't going to happen anytime soon. It is going to cause me to say nasty things and start arguments. I really need to quit dwelling on it because it won't do a bit of good to worry. But when you're the one that pays the bills and sees what's going on you can't help but worry. I can't even say what I think. GAH!


I didn't enjoy Thanksgiving as much as I should have. Thursday I actually didn't feel good, had some sort of stomach thing going on that really didn't allow me to enjoy all the food and drink. Sunday we had yet another family gathering. I was very uncomfortable. R's kids went, they didn't know anyone except for my immediate family, so I know they were bored. I should have just told R to stay home with them, maybe I would have felt better.


Funny joke someone at work sent me:

A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables, and when he picked up a CD player to place in his sack, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, "Jesus is watching you."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight out, and froze. When he heard nothing more after a bit, he shook his head, promised himself a vacation after the next big score, then clicked the light on and began searching for more valuables.

Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard, "Jesus is watching you." Freaked out he shone his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.

"Did you say that?" He hissed at the parrot.

"Yep," the parrot confessed, then squawked, "I'm just trying to warn you."

The burglar relaxed. "Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?"

"Moses," replied the bird.

"Moses?" the burglar laughed. "What kind of people would name a bird Moses."

"The kind that would name their rottweiler Jesus."


I had another nightmare last night. I can't remember it now, but I remembered it when I woke up. I should have written it down. I just know it was disturbing and I was in some kind of pain. Perhaps that explains my mood today. Maybe if people would send me more silly jokes like the rottweiler one, and I smile enough, I'll cheer up.


I screwed up the invoices at work. I had to print them last week. I never print invoices. Where in my description is Accounts Receivable? Nowhere. That is why I didn't print the invoices correctly and why they are screwed up. And all I keep hearing about is month-end numbers, and that Corporate's not gonna like this. Well, why then would you have someone that knows nothing about accounts receivable procedures handle it? Oh. Because the person who normally handles it was out, and I am superwoman and can figure anything out? I don't think so, Tim. Poor planning if you ask me.


Boy. I am a real downer today. I'll stop now.

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Things I love about R...

I haven't finished this yet because I keep getting interrupted. Damn job anyway. So I'm putting up what I have done anyway instead of leaving it as a draft and will finish it when people leave me alone.


1. He calls me baby. I feel so little and precious when He says that.
2. His hair. He likes it cut really short, and there is just a little bit of grey on the sides. Very sexy.
3. His neck. He has one of those thick necks, like a football player or wrestler and it just looks HOT and I want to kiss it.
4. They way He cups my breasts in His hands when we are lying in bed spooning. He says it's a perfect fit.
5. He's not jealous.
6. He trusts me with his/our male friends.
7. He says we don't kiss enough.
8. Which brings me to His lips. He has full, firm, very kissable lips, and his mustache and goatee are just a LITTLE scratchy in a good way.
9. His hands. When he touches me with His strong, manly, working hands I feel so safe. Simply resting His hand on my back when I am sitting next to Him can relax me.
10. He plays with my hair. At home, in public, He doesn't care if anyone sees.
11. He likes to show me off.
12. He kills icky eight-legged creatures for me.
13. He will go grocery shopping with me.
14. He likes decorating for Christmas.
15. He loves my dog. Even when she slobbers or brings mud in the house. Maybe not as much when she jumps up on the bed.
16. He took my cat to the vet when she needed to be put down. And He buried my other cat when he died. Even though He doesn't like cats. (Maybe He wanted to be sure they were really gone? :))
17. He buys me clothes that He likes and then picks out what I am wearing. He will have me try on my skirts, so I can bend over in front of Him to help Him decide which one He wants me to wear.
18. He makes me feel pretty.
19. He doesn't like me to fall asleep unless I am lying close to Him with His arms around me and my head resting on Him.
20. He likes reality TV shows. He really gets into Survivor.
21. He loves NASCAR.
22. And football. I'd never heard anyone yell "Go Baby Go" at the TV so much. It's kinda funny.
23. He thinks the woman should do all the housework and cleaning, but He does it a lot anyway.
24. He wants me to call Him on my way to work, even if I don't have anything to say. I feel like I bother Him, but if I don't call He calls me at work to see if everything is OK.
25. He clicks with me. We say things at the same time when talking to other people. It's just weird.
26. He tries really hard to understand me and all my quirks. The only time He really doesn't get me is when I'm being selfish - moody - pms-y girl.
27. He is nice to my family. Even my mother.
28. He lets me ride His FatBoy.
29. He finally admits that it is kinda hot that I can ride.
30. He always includes me. Never seems to crave a "guys night out”.
31. He says that one of these days we are going to a strip club and He is buying me a lap dance.
32. He lets me have “girls night out” and insists I take pictures and tell Him lots of stories about us dancing and kissing and whatever else we do.
33. He gets all hot and bothered when I kiss other girls.
34. He sits in the bar when I am working, even if it is dead and He could think of a million other things to do. Like get to sleep before 3:30.
35. He gets this "you better not even think about it” look on his face when other guys flirt too much or want to dance with me a little too close.
36. He gets noticeably possessive if someone makes me uncomfortable.
37. He likes to do dirty things to me that nobody sees while we are amongst friends.
38. He knows exactly where on the back of my neck to kiss me.
39. He has a really nice butt. A lot of guys I know don’t have this feature. He definitely does.
40. He taught me to be comfortable with being naked and eventually to prefer being naked.
41. He taught me to enjoy giving blow jobs. I know I don’t do it as often as He wishes, but I am still working on that whole “being the aggressor” when it comes to sex and all that. It’s just not my nature. Just push my head down, babe. As long as it’s not 3 AM on a work night after we’ve been out, I’ll be happy to oblige.
42. His cock. It’s just perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
43. The way he looks when we are having sex.
44. They way he likes to watch Himself fuck me. I don’t know why but that turns me on. It just the look on His face looking at His cock penetrating me, and me knowing that that is turning Him on, and then He’ll look at me - it’s just good.
45. He likes to sit on the deck, with a fire in the fire pit, and cold beer, just talking. To me.
46. He likes to hug me.
47. He enjoys being at home with me, instead of constantly being out somewhere, anywhere, among others.
48. I have to sit next to Him on the couch. No sitting across the room.
49. I have to sit next to Him in the truck.
50. I cannot get off the phone without saying “I love you, too”. He always beats me to it and says it first.
51. How He followed me home the first time. He was behind me in His truck, and called me to see if it was ok to stop at my house. He pulled in and we were both so nervous. He kissed me. Then He left.
52. How He would sit on the porch at my house with me when we first started seeing each other. We’d just sit and listen to music (love that 60 disc cd changer) and talk until all hours of the night.
53. He wasn’t pushy with me when we started seeing each other. He understood how I was still trying to sort things out in my head and afraid of another relationship.
54. He wants to take care of me.
55. He tries really really hard not to lose His patience with me. I can be very trying.
56. He is a hard worker.
57. He rarely complains about work. Unlike me...
58. He gets a really nice tan in the summer from working outside. With His light hair He is just gorgeous.
59. He just smiles when my friends tell Him what a perfect man He is.
60. He just smiles more when our friends tell us what a great couple we are. And that they never see us mad at each other. (Oh it does happen - we are not perfect - we just keep it private.)

Monday, November 22, 2004

My Weekend

So my weekend was fairly normal. Not long enough, and not relaxing enough.

Friday night we went to the mall so R could pick out a skirt for me to wear to work Saturday. We actually found three that He liked, but I couldn't find any tops to go with them. I think trying on all those skirts and seeing my now pale-getting-flabby-in-the-winter legs put me in a ugly-fat-don't-look-at-me self conscious mood. And of course I then had to feel sorry for myself, proceed to cry silently in the dark truck after we left, only to be asked "What's bothering you" and stupidly replying "I'm ugly and you don't like me anymore."

After a brief discussion it was determined that I am indeed not ugly, or fat, and He does indeed still like me. I don't know why I get like that. My period is over, my hormones should be back to normal, right?

That night I got a buzz on, and slept in late on Saturday. R, ever the early bird, was puttering around the house long before I woke up. As a matter of fact, He came in to wake me to see if I was going with Him to pick up His daughter, run a few errands and go to the Harley store. I was not fully awake and sleepily decided I didn't want to drive all the way to *City up North* with Him and His daughter as I already had a headache. However, I misunderstood Him and thought we were going to go to the Harley store after He got back and then pouted, felt sorry for myself, and called Him on the phone telling Him He didn't tell me that's what He was doing. He said to get in the shower and He would come back and get me, but that was stupid so I just cried some more and told Him to forget it and felt jealous because I never seem to get enough time to spend with JUST him. He should have beat my ass for acting like that when He got home, but He didn't. I wish He would have.

Saturday evening He took me to work. I really didn't feel like working that night. We had good sex before he took me, but that just left me horny and frustrated all night.

NY's mom and dad are up here now that he bought the place, and in typical Italian fashion, are already beginning to boss people around and talk about changes. Which irritates me. But since I didn't have the money to buy the place and do what I want with it, I guess I just have to suck it up. NY's mom and I are going to have issues I think. Unfair, perhaps, because she reminds me of ex-MIL. Whom I loathed.

However, she did compliment me on the extraction of 3 drunk customers that night. 2 drunk guys and a girl walk into the bar. (No this is not the beginning of a bad joke). I knew one of the guys, JV, from school. Before he quit school, that is. He has been thrown out of the bar by the 2 previous owners, and must have figured he'd try again now that there is a new owner. The girl is his wife or girlfriend, and she just had their baby a few months ago. 3rd guy was unknown. They sat down at a table after ordering three beers and proceeded to get louder and louder with their arguing. Baby mama was upset about something and JV was just staring at her like a fool. Baby mama finally got up and walked out the door. The other two just sat there.

I looked at R and said "I am about 2 seconds from asking them to leave. I never should have let them come in in the first place."

He told me to give it just a few more minutes. Immediately after that, Baby mama slammed through the doors, walked up to JV, screamed something at him, picked up his beer, dumped it all over him and stormed back out. Everyone sat there stunned. Except me. I came out from behind the bar walked up behind JV.

"Get her the hell out of here, and you get out too."

He just turned around and looked at me then looked down at his shirt. Sorry mo-fo. I ain't washin' your shirt for ya.

"JV. Get. Out."

He turned at looked at me again. Now mind you, this guy is about as tall as me when he is sitting in a chair. I had a brief twinge of fear that he might hit me. Very brief.


He got up, and so did his friend. I think his friend actually said "sorry" or somthing but I couldn't hear him. JV got to the doorway, took of his shirt, and turned around to say something.

"Bye JV. Bye. Don't say anything. Just get the fuck out." I wasn't going to let the retard say a word.

Everyone was staring at me. The little girl in boots and a mini skirt just kicked out the biggest bastard in the joint. Yeah, that was cool. I'm lucky he didn't hit me. Even though R and some other guys were in there, one hit from him could probably land me in the hospital.

So that was the highlight of the night. That and the twenty 20-somethings that came in a little after one. Carding a bunch of bleary-eyed kids at one in the morning while they're shouting for Jager Bombs and Cherry Bombs is not fun.

Soon it was over. Time to go home and have more sex.

The next day kinda sucked too. I was out of my ugly-fat stage and now into an I'm-mad-becase-I-have-to-go-to-my-family's-and-you-get-to-stay-home-and-watch-the-race mood. I had to go give my grandma a perm. (It's great being a jack of all trades, master of none. I get to do everything for my family that they would normally have to pay a bunch of money for) However, I was using my brothers skills as well, because while I was doing that, he did some work on R's truck.

I finally got home around 3:30. R was on the roof hanging Christmas lights. We got them all done last night. All around the shrubs and railing. They look pretty.

Then we ordered some pizza, watched Survivor, Blue Collar Comedy, and something else we had recorded. Pulled out the futon. R's neck hurt. Neck rub turned into neck kissing, then earlobe sucking, then deep kissing, then get-your-clothes-off-now sex. Spooey in my eye. (ouch) Too tired to go to bed, we slept next to each other under a really little blanket on the futon until two in the morning. More cuddling and breast fondling after two when we finally made it to the bedroom.


Why can't every night be like that?

Thursday, November 18, 2004


Someone found my blog looking for:

hair rollers gag

I don't get it.

One search was:

kamikaze motorcyle jump

That one makes sense to me.


To all the assclowns I work with:

Do not bring me items off the printer and asked if I printed it. If I printed something, I am fully capable of getting up and walking the 10 feet to get it off the printer myself.

If you bring me something anyway, and I tell you I did not print it, don't ask me if I know who did. I don't fucking know.

How about this? When you print something, get it off the printer. If there is something there that you didn't print, leave it there. It won't hurt anything. The printer will not stop printing because there are 3 pages in the output tray. And then I won't have other people coming to me and asking, "I printed something, do you know where it is?"

No! I don't!




Is it 5 yet?

The Enforcer has Arrived

I got spanked last night. For the first time ever when it wasn't part of "playtime".

Last night we went Christmas shopping. As we were walking through the store, R looked back at me and said, "Oh, you are in so much trouble when we get home."

At first I didn't realize why He had said that. Then I remembered that I didn't have my collar on. I didn't put it on when I got home from work. Just forgetful, I didn't mean anything bad by not putting it on.

We finished our shopping and stopped in at *Our Favorite Bar* for a drink. KT was working and we had and interesting discussion about sex and her inability to have multiple orgasms. She was taught when she was little that masturbating was bad and if she touched herself, she would go to Hell. She said she did touch herself once when she was younger while taking a bath, and immediately was disgusted with herself and never did it again. She says her boyfriend probably knows more about her body and sensitive spots then she does.

Poor thing.

We left, and I chattered on the way home as I usually do after stopping in there. When we got home, we both got ready for bed. I came out of the bathroom and he was already in the bedroom. I went to the kitchen for a cigarette, and he yelled "Don't light that!" down the hallway.

"Too late," I said.

"Well then put it out."

I turned to look for an ashtray and He said "Just come in here."

So I did, and He said "Put that down."

I put the cigarette in the ashtray on the dresser. He sat down on the foot of the bed. He was still fully clothed. I thought He was going to push me down to my knees to give Him a blow job. Instead, He quickly reached up, laid me across his lap, and spanked my naked bottom several times. Hard.

"Are you ever going to leave this house, other than for work, without your collar again?"


Smack! Smack!

"Are you going to wear it anytime you are at home?"



"What are you going to do?"

"I promise I will always wear my collar!"

"Do I need to spank you anymore tonight?"


"Are you sure you understand?"


"Now get up and smoke your cigarette. Sit next to me while you smoke it."

So I got up, and sat next to Him and smoked my cigarette. He was very quiet. He gently rubbed my back and pulled me close to Him.

"You know I love you."

"Yes, I love you too."

He said something else, I don't know, maybe asking me if I was ok with what just happened. I was in this weird, almost trance-like state. I just felt so calm. I remember wanting to smile. It was an odd, safe, comfortable feeling. I have struggled with wanting Him to control me. I think we both have. I think He was unsure that it was something I really wanted Him to do, and He didn't want to force me. There would be talk of discipline when I did something wrong, but it never went much farther than that. I think maybe we were both feeling each other out. Neither one of us wanted to do something that the other would not be comfortable with, but I think we both wanted it. I have tested Him, to see. I started think that perhaps He was not as dominant as I desired Him to be. But He was just making sure.

The night before, I behaved childishly. I did something He had asked me not to do. I apologized and tried to explain myself. Instead, I was given the silent treatment. I HATE the silent treatment. Just tell me what is wrong, what I need to do to fix it, and let's move on! But no, He continued to be silent, I continued to seeth. This was NOT what I wanted. We got to where we were going and He got out of the truck. I told Him I would wait in the truck. Instead of saying, "No you're not," or "Get out of the truck," or something like that, He jumped back in the truck and took us home, where He continued to ignore me. I was crushed. Why was He letting me do this?

The next day, in a text message, He told me that no longer would he allow for me to behave that way, and I should have come downstairs last night to kneel beside Him, and I should have been spanked. I was a little upset, and figured He knew that and that is why he told me that, because He knows I like to hear Him say things like that. I have to say that I didn't honestly think He felt that way, that He didn't really want to spank me (other than during sex or "playtime"), or tell me to get out of the truck, or anything like that.

After I didn't wear my collar, and He didn't let me get away with it, I felt better. I can't explain why, just that I felt so controlled and calm and like nothing could touch me because He was going to look after me. Kind of like when I snuggle up next to Him and breathe in His scent and suddenly all of my worries are out of my head, and I just feel safe. I wish I could stay that way all the time.

He stopped rubbing my back and told me to put out my cigarette. He had undressed, and was clearly aroused. I stood up and faced Him and He gently pushed me to my knees. I began to suck Him, and He moaned with pleasure. After a bit, He pulled me up and put me on my back on the bed. He entered me gently and made love to me. There was no agressive fucking, just pleasant, vanilla intercourse. He did call me His little slut while I was on top of Him, but He knows I like to hear that and it makes me cum. But it was all just sweet and loving and nice. Again, He probably didn't want to push me. Too much aggression probably would have made me feel uneasy. He knew that and He was wonderful. And He came on my face and my hair which I also like.

When we were finished, He pulled me to Him so that we were spooning, but I soon turned over to bury my face in His chest. I breathed in His scent and went to sleep.

I felt so safe and warm.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Fantasia Numero Uno

Everyone has fantasies, right? And I don't just mean sexual fantasies. I mean about anything. Winning the lottery. Living by the beach. Driving a fancy car. I have lots of them. But I always punish myself when I have them, as if it is wrong to dream about something you can't have or something that can't happen, especially if they are selfish. Mine are usually very selfish. But I enjoy these fantasies, even if it is a bit of a let down when I am done thinking and remember they can't happen. I have decided I am going to think about my fantasies. I'm not going to tell myself to stop dreaming about things that make me happy. I need something in my life, and maybe through my fantasies I can find it.


She glanced at the clock above the stove. It was almost 5:30. He will be home soon, she thought to herself, and smiled. She did a quick scan of the house. It hadn't been so clean since they first moved in. But now, since He had permitted her to leave Corporate America and stay at home to serve Him instead, the entire house was spotless. Not a speck of dust or stray dog hair. The carpets were shampooed and the air smelled of vanilla. In the bedroom, new satin sheets and a duvet, the color of burgundy wine, covered the bed. She had painted the walls a similar color. She had seen this design once in a home decorating book, and had always dreamed of having such a romantic bedroom. He had given her permission to paint and decorate the bedroom as she wished, and she tried her best to recreate that picture completely from memory. She hated painting, but thought of how lovely the room would look when she got frustrated and didn't stop once until she was completely finished.

Outside, the grass was cut and the dog was cleaned up after. Two things she knew He hated to do. She hoped He would be pleased that those chores were done. As a matter of fact, all of the chores were done. Laundry, vacuuming, mopping, dusting - all done. Tomorrow she would start on the garage and basement, getting rid of things that were no longer needed. Dinner was in the oven already. All she had to do was feed the dog.

She knew she'd better enjoy this while it lasted. He had finally agreed to allow her to stay home - but only temporarily if it didn't work out. She knew that money would be tight, until some excess bills were paid off anyway. She had always been good at maintaining a budget though, and now she would have more time to focus on it and figure out what could be eliminated. Not to mention the gas money she would be saving by not driving to that horrible office everyday. He had only given her permission to leave to get groceries, to go to doctor or dentist appointments, or take the dog to the vet, and only if needed. She didn't mind. And she knew deep down, that if something came up and she had to leave, she would be able to call Him and ask. He would not deny her permission for something necessary.

She loved being at home. She wondered if she would eventually get bored and end up like those women that sit on their ass all day long in front of the TV. She vowed that she would not do that. She would not treat this as if it was a vacation. She hadn't even turned on the TV today. Only the radio. The house would be kept spotless, and when the cleaning was all caught up, there were so many other thing she could do. She vowed have the nicest looking yard in the neighborhood, and when money allowed she would would gradually buy the things needed to improve it. Some emerald arborvitae along the back fence, and landscaping stone where the grass just refused to grow. The shrubs would be trimmed, the flowers watered, and the flower bed weeded. In the fall the leaves would be raked and bagged. In the winter the drive and walkway would be kept clear of snow. All He would have to do when He got home from work was let her take His boots off for Him, shower, and sit down to a freshly prepared meal. She was almost giddy with excitement when she thought of the changes He would see in her.

She would probably finish painting and decorating in the house, again as money allowed. She was not going to be one of those women who takes advantage of a situation. As much as she loved to shop, she would not be going without permission, and when she did get permission, she knew it would be to purchase clothes He wanted to see her in. She thought of the way He looks at her when she tries on just the right skirt. How she can see His erection in His jeans, and the lust in His eyes. It is all she can do to not drag Him into the dressing room with her when that happens.

But that would be happening less now. She did not want to be sent back to work. Not to that awful place. Where you need to live and breathe your work, and nothing else matters. How could she stay in a place like that and still serve Him? She could not. She was not strong enough. The work she did was tedious, but boring, and by the time she arrived home she was emotionally and mentally drained. He would get angry that she didn't want to clean or cook when she got home. He didn't realize how empty it made her feel to be at that place all day long. She could
have left and found another job, but deep down she knew she was never going to be happy in an office situation.

Too many demands, too many people thinking they are more important than her, too many people telling her what to do. So she stuck it out, figuring that she knew she would hate that type of work no matter where she was, and that at least she had some vacation time built up. But that was all she had to keep herself going. She couldn't even force herself to get out of bed to get there on time. Today she awoke when he did and had had been up ever since, excited to begin her new lifestyle.

She was tired of hearing about how she was a "strong woman" and should be more career oriented. Her boss was a woman and believed that all women should take care of themselves and men were not necessary in a woman's life. Her boss couldn't understand how she could think He was more important than her work. She almost felt as if she was being unfaithful to Him. She knew they were asking things of her that He would never ask of her. Asking her to think in ways He wouldn't agree with - and in ways she didn't agree with either. And since she knew that His decisions were always based on what was best for her, she also knew that what she had to do all day wasn't always for the best. It was for money. Their money.

She hated them and what they stood for.

But that was all behind her now. She was going to do her best to not be sent out of the home again. This was where she belonged. And even if she did have to work again, she believed that He would let her choose another line of work. Something that she would enjoy. She would make less money, but hoped that didn't matter.

Her thoughts here interrupted when she heard is truck pull in the drive. She dashed down the hall, stripping her clothes off and tossing them in the hamper. She quickly applied some lipstick, he liked her to wear lipstick, and brushed her hair.

She ran back down the hallway and knelt down at the top of the steps. Finally she could greet Him this way everyday, she thought to herself. She heard the door open and bowed her head, but she was almost trembling with nervousness and excitement. She hoped she had done enough that day to please Him. She tried to remain still, but all she wanted to do was jump up and say "Look, look what I've done! Please don't send me back to that horrible place to work."

He came up the steps and stopped on the landing below her. "I could get used to seeing this everyday when I come home," he said. At first she thought He meant the house being so tidy, but he hadn't even made it all the way up the steps yet to notice. He meant seeing her, naked, kneeling and waiting for Him.

"I would like to greet you this way everyday, Sir."

He came up the steps, paused to kiss her on the top of the head, and walked into the kitchen to put his thermos and cooler on the counter. "It smells nice in here."

"Oh that is the garlic chicken. It will be ready soon. I hope you like it. I have never tried this recipe."

"No, that smells good, but I smell something else too. Vanilla?"

"Oh, yes Sir, after I cleaned the carpets I freshened the air with a vanilla mist spray. The scent is supposed to last for a while after it settles into the carpet. And I knew you liked the smell of vanilla." She smiled to herself.

"Get up, clean out my thermos and cooler."

She rose and scurried over to the sink. He stood behind her as she cleaned His thermos. She knew he was looking at her bare ass, and felt a little nervous. She still got worried that she didn't look good enough for Him, escpecially when He was staring at her in broad daylight.

Any worries of that were soon diminished, as she felt him press against her from behind, breathing on her neck and reaching his hands around to cup her breasts. She could feel his excitement, and she began to feel moisture between her legs. He turned her around and looked at her face.

"You cleaned the entire house didn't you?"

"Yes, Sir. I haven't gotten to the garage and basement yet, but I will tomorrow. I just ran out of time."

"Is the bedroom finished?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What else is done?"

"I mowed and cleaned up the yard."

"You did all of that today?"

"Yes Sir, I would have done more, but I started dinner and the next thing I knew you were on your way home."

He pulled her close and kissed her. "You did enough today. The house looks great. The yardwork is done. I am proud of you."

"I hoped I would please you."

"Well, this is very pleasing. My house is clean, food is in the oven, and you are standing here naked."

"Would you like me to take your boots off, Sir?"

He looked a bit puzzled. She just stared back. He tilted his head to the side and said "Yes, yes I would," and sat down in the dining room chair. She knelt down and untied and unlaced his boots, took them off and set them in the corner. He pulled her up into his lap.

"You seem very happy today."

"I am Sir. I intend to enjoy this for as long as I can, I know it probably won't last."

"I don't know. I could get very used to this. We'll just have to see what happens."

"I know."

"Now, let me go get cleaned up, and you finish getting dinner ready."

"Yes, Sir."

He went off to shower and shave, and she finished preparing dinner. It was all ready by the time he returned. She could tell He was impressed with the way the meal looked. She was too. She never cooked. At least not anything like this. If it wasn't less than 5 minutes of preparation, she didn't make it. Today she actually enjoyed preparing the meal. She couldn't wait to look through her never-before-used cookbook to find something for tomorrow. And the next day, and all the days that followed. They ate together quietly, occassionally with a mention of how nice everything looked or how good the chicken was.

After dinner was finished, she cleared the table and set to cleaning up the kitchen. He went downstairs and returned with two beers. He said to finish cleaning up the kitchen in a hurry, and then come sit and relax. She did so, and sat down on the couch next to Him, enjoying her cold beer. They watched TV for a bit and then He said "Why don't you show me what you've done to the bedroom?"

They rose and walked down the hall to the bedroom. She opened the door to show the freshly painted walls, the clean carpet, and new bed coverings. New curtains covered the windows.

"This looks nice," He said. He wasn't sure He would like it when she tried to explain it to Him. He didn't think it was something He would have picked out, but now that it was done, He could see why she liked it so much. The dark colors and stylings she chose were almost Victorian-like. It looked passionate and lusty.

"Thank you. I was worried you might not like it."

He told her to lie down on the bed. She did so. The satin covers on the bed felt so smooth beneath her skin. He laid over her, kissing her, gently at first, then harder. He slid off to the side and ran His hands over her breasts. Her nipples hardened quickly. He slid His hand down her belly, pausing to play with her ring. Slowly His hands teased her, down and up one thigh then down and up the other. She kept lifting her hips in the air trying to push on something, anything. She needed to feel the pressure on her clit.

She looked over and could see His erection in his shorts. He always dressed comfortably in the evenings after work, and when He was hard it was definitely noticeable. She pulled down His shorts with one hand. He stood up and took them off. He laid on top of her again, and entered her with one easy thrust. She gasped with pleasure. All day she had done so many things to try to please Him, and now she would please Him again, but she knew not before He pleased her.

He fucked her slowly at first, a nice steady rhythm. Then He increased His speed and the depth of His thrusts. He got up on His knees and pulled her legs up in front on Him, holding her ankles together in front of His face. He fucked her harder. Which each thrust she had to suck in her breath.

He stopped and laid down on his back pulling her on top of Him. "Fuck me you bitch. Ride that cock until you come."

He knew that talking to her that way caused her pussy to clench. She rode Him and ground her clit against Him. It didn't take long until she felt the rush wash over her whole body. She collapsed on top of him, her heart racing and her pussy still contracting.

He pushed her back up. "Again."

She started to shake her head no. His eyes widen and He looked at her harshly and said "Again!"

She found her groove and rode Him, more slowly this time, to another orgasm. She knew He would tell her to do it again. She always had a hard time with the third one. Almost like she was too sensitive after two. He looked at her and she knew He wanted her to again. Instead He flipped her over on her back and entered her. This time His thrusts were different. He was hitting her sensitive spot with every move and in perfect time. She matched His rhythm and could feel it building again. She burst into another orgasm, screaming out. He didn't stop though. He kept thrusting until He was ready to explode.

He pulled out, grunting, and grabbed His throbbing cock and spurted His cum all over her face and chest. He collapsed next to her and she rubbed his semen into her skin. She loved feeling Him all over her.

"I love you, baby," He said to her.

"I love you, too."

"I hope this works out, me keeping you at home, just to serve and love me."

"I do, too."

And she really did. She felt so right, so comfortable, so happy, so perfect. Everything was ok with the world.

With her world.

And she didn't want to leave it. Ever.

Friday, November 12, 2004

Job Requirement # 1 - You must not have feelings

Yesterday was our holiday party/annual meeting for work. Usually the first half of the meeting involves work related boring stuff like policy changes, insurance, and how to better serve the customer. Then there are hors d'oeuvres and alcohol, then lunch, then a funny white elephant gift exchange. Oh, and door prizes. But we don't get the door prizes any more because the *Big National Company* that owns us now frowns upon presenting employees with gifts. That's what our boss said. Ok. Fine. Whatever.

This year was horrible. Not because there were no door prizes. (I never won one anyway). The speeches from our superiors were horrible. Awful. I can't tell it all without getting too pissed off. I do wish I would have had a tape recorder so I could play it back for people and get their opinions.

It was supposed to be a pep talk, I'm sure. You know, to try to bring up morale. Instead I think they managed to piss off all of the employees, except for those career oriented people in management, of course.

Here are some of the highlights:

- Big Boss Lady struggled hard and worked a lot to get where she is today. She left her former coworkers in the dust, working from 6 AM to 8 PM. She never called off work. No matter how sick she was, she never called off and dragged herself in, and miraculously, would always feel better when she got to work. One former coworker would show up at 11, got to lunch at noon, and leave at 3. Where is she now? She's a loser. Not standing there in front of all of her employees. But that's where Big Boss Lady is. (I found out this morning that coworker she was trashing had a husband who committed suicide. I probably wouldn't be very gung-ho on working on ANYTHING if that happened to me. So I thought the story was bad when she told it, but after hearing that, I think it's AWFUL.)

- Leave your personal baggage at the door. Nothing in the world should be more important to you during your work day than your work. Think of the sense of pride you will have when you accomplish something, even if your husband left you, your dog died, or your kids are sick. None of that matters when you are here. You can start fresh every morning, forget about all of that, and feel good when you leave. (I remember one lady that worked here. She was the sweetest lady. She found out one day that her husband had prostate cancer. She was devastated. She cried a lot, but tried to hide it. She was reprimanded and told that if she couldn't leave her emotions at home, perhaps she should consider looking for another job. This poor lady ended up getting really sick herself, and finally had to leave. I'm sad for her because she is not well, but I am glad she got out of here. She didn't deserve that kind of treatment. My aunt died a few years ago. We don't get excused time off for funerals unless it is an immediate family member. I have a small family. I cared about my aunt. I was sad. I wasn't allowed to leave for the wake. I was asked if I would be returning after the funeral (which I took off - used a vacation day) because my boss was out of town and they really needed me. I apologized, said "no" and that next time a relative is going to die, I will ask them to do so on a weekend so it doesn't cut into my work day, and that my family needed me more. I mean seriously, what was I going to say - "oh, sorry family, but I can't gather with you after the funeral for food and memories and support, they need me at work, and that is what's important." I was reprimanded for having a bad attitude, and not setting a good example for the other workers - I was a supervisor at the time. Our HR person called me, because I was reported for being insubordinate and told me that she didn't want me to think that they are cold people, but it WAS just my aunt. It wasn't like it was my dad or someone I was really close too. I almost quit that day. How the fuck do they know who I am close too? Oh - and I was told "supervisors don't cry".

- Some people work here to collect a paycheck. Others are here for a career. If you are one of the ones that are here just for a paycheck, perhaps this isn't your cup of tea and you should look for something else. After all, there are a lot of people out there that have lost their jobs, and more that will , who would love to work here. You career should be the most important thing in your life. You need to take pride in your work. (Time to find my cup of tea)

- We must work together as a team. Together Each Acheives More!

- Do not call off work. It hurts the team. Get up, take a shower, if you still feel lousy, come in anyway! You'll feel good about yourself for doing it.

- Do not speak negatively about work. It is like a cancer and spreads, and you will bring everyone down with you.

And so on.

As I was listening to this, I was looking around at the others to see if I was the only one shocked to be hearing this. And today, after talking to people, I know I wasn't the only one. I have had at least 5 people tell me that they feel worse about working here now then they did before the meeting. Of course there was a lot more said, but I don't feel like going into all of it.

I just know I want out. I have no motivation to work for a company that is going to tell me I should live and breathe this place, and everything else is second. I'm sorry. I don't live to work. If I did, I would be as successful as them and own my own business or be in a position of power in a company. If that is how they want to be, fine. But don't say that everyone in the world should be the same way, and if they aren't, there is something wrong with them. I work to live. I work to pay my bills. I work because I have to. If I didn't have to I wouldn't. There are things in my life that are far more important to me than this. I don't think that qualifies me as a loser.

It sickens me that I am wasting my days doing something I don't enjoy anymore, because the people that I work for have told me how disposable I am.

Damn. I feel pretty low. And after hearing that, I don't think I will ever enjoy working here.

I really need to figure something out.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Twas a few weeks before Christmas, 2 years ago

I'm feeling so frustrated lately. What with my girl problems and my job, everything is just getting to me lately. (Girl problems seem to be improving - knock on wood, job is not) However, now I am PMSing so that definitely doesn't help. Hormones suck. I think I was better when I was on Depo, but of course, that is what triggered a lot of my girl problems so I just can't win!!!!


I dragged out all of our Christmas stuff yesterday. I have a lot of stuff. Like 2 trees, enough ornaments for probably 3 trees, and 50 gazillion strands of lights - but they are the little lights and R likes the BIG lights so I have a bunch of lights I won't use. Not to mention all of the other decorations. I think we pulled out something like 8 boxes and they are all in the living room. Poor R only has 1 box of decorations and a manger left since the divorce. And I broke the little people in the manger (accidentally) during the summer and felt horrible when I remembered
about it. We haven't even looked at all the pieces yet. I don't think either of us want to see how bad the damage is. They are all still wrapped up in their paper towels. But I know they shattered. I wouldn't feel so bad, but they were his grandmother's, I think, and they are old Hummels and so I feel REALLY bad.

Z-dog was distressed by all the mess in the living room. Poor pup couldn't find a place to lay her 115 pound frame down. I wonder if she remembers the fight...

2 years ago, after my divorce, I had decorated for Christmas in my sad little empty house. Not sad because I was divorced, but sad because I was all alone. I actually called my mom when I was putting up my tree. I just started bawling like an idiot because I couldn't get the stupid tree topper to stay on and was so angry that I had to do it all by myself. So like a good little mom she came over, after calling my brother, who dutifully came over armed with a dowel rod and zip ties so as to hold my ugly star atop the tree without it flopping over.

I cried about how pitiful my life was and how stupid it was to even decorate for Christmas because nobody would be there to see it anyway. My mom hugged me and told me everything would be ok. Little bro averted his eyes and looked uncomfortable. Poor kid. I know he didn't like that I was upset, but I think he wasn't quite sure how to deal with his irrational, sobbing, older sister.

Eventually I calmed down and they left and I got all my decorations up. I started to feel a little better - I love Christmas, after all. Everytime I started to feel sorry for myself, I would cheer myself up playing with the doggies, and listening to Put a Little Holiday in your Heart" by LeAnn Rimes. At the time I had 2 doggies. Z-dog was my baby. My big baby. I got her at 7 weeks when she was just a 13 pound fuzz ball. She was about 3 now. S the dog was a smaller, nippier, more aggressive version of Z-dog. I got her from the SPCA (when I was still married - I had no original intentions of trying to take care of 2 Rotties all by myself). S the dog was caught in a claw trap when she was found, with seven puppies nearby in a garage. They guessed she was about 2 or 3. Originally, the plan was to get a puppy, but I felt soooooooooooo bad for mommy-S-dog with that pink cast on her front leg that I decided I wanted her. She was in a foster home with her pups and a few other dogs, so getting along with Z didn't really seem like it would be a problem.

Foster home lady brought S the dog over to meet Z-dog. They looked at each other through the dog gate, did a little growly-growly and a lot of sniffing. We opened the gate, and they did that scary posturing thing where they stand next to each other facing each other's butt, ears back, eyes wide, head turned, and ready to attack. We just let them, and soon they relaxed and sniffed and S the dog took to walking around the house. Immediately, she found Z-dog's toy box and picked up her favorite Kong. Uh oh.

But Z-dog didn't care. She sniffed at it in S the dog's mouth and then went to the toy box for another toy. S the dog was content to chew on the Kong, and Z-dog had her Nylabone, and all was well. Foster home lady chatted a bit about S the dog's leg and puppies. Her cast would be off soon, she would be spayed, and I could have her. Yay!! Foster home lady left with S the dog that day, taking a toy with her, so S the dog might be familiar the smell when she brought her back.

I waited patiently and finally S the dog was here. The re-introduction to Z-dog was a little more rough this time. Perhaps Z-dog knew she wasn't leaving this time. But they seemed ok, and Foster home lady left and I had 2 doggies!!!!

The dogs would argue for attention. S the dog was very jealous. Which made Z-dog jealous. After all, she was there first. They would get into little fights. Nothing that a yank on the collar and equal distribution of a chew toy couldn't handle. Soon that graduated to squirting with a water bottle. Everyonce in a while jackass-now-ex would have to pull them apart. I was starting to realize that mixing two mature female Rotts may not have been the best choice.


Fast forward 9 months. 2 months after jackass left. Z-dog and S the dog were both very protective of me. One night, and old schoolmate came to my house. I was uncomfortable to have him there, but was polite. As soon as he was in the door, S the dog had his hand in her mouth. She never bit people, she would just grab their hand or arm and hold it in her mouth with a look that said "One false move, and you're dog food", and then let go. Which is exactly what she did that time. Z-dog stood in the doorway to supervise. Schoolmate left shortly thereafter, which I was thankful for, as I was also starting to realize how men will prey on sad, lonely, divorced, young women. Until they meet their Rotties, that is.

One day the protectiveness took a turn for the worse. S the dog was in the living room by the recliner. Z-dog was sniffing the presents. I think she knew all the presents under the tree were doggie toys. (Remember, not many people to buy for that year being divorced and friendless. I probably spent $150 on the dogs.) I walked into the room and saw S the dog chewing on an ornament.

I said "*Gasp!* S the dog! What do you have?!?" in as stern a voice as I could muster.

The vet told me when Z-dog was a puppy to be stern with her. He also taught me how to restrain her, to show her I was dominant (Ha!) because she was going to be bigger than me. He must have foreseen my divorce and knew my nasally girl voice would not be intimidating to a Rott throwing a temper-tantrum. Obedience school taught the
same. Stern, not mean. You need to be able to hold their attention.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. I must have gotten their attention. S the dog looked up at me and stopped chewing. As I was reaching down to get the ornament from her, Z-dog attacked. I mean ATTACKED. Looking back, the only thing I could figure was that she thought S the dog did something bad to her mommy and Z-dog wouldn't stand for that.

At first I wasn't worried. They had scrapped a few times since jackass left. I pulled them apart, no problem. Not this time. Before I knew it, they were growling, snarling, slobbering, biting, scratching, looking to kill, rolling around the living room floor, tangled together.

OK. I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I tried pulling them apart. They were much to strong. My hands just got in the way of the teeth. I threw water on them. Didn't phase them. They broke my footstool. There was blood on the entertainment center. I got frying pans. I banged them together hoping the noise would startle them for just enough time to could get them apart. Nope. I HIT them with the frying pans. They didn't flinch. I tried pulling their mouths apart again. People are not kidding when they tell you a dog can lock it's jaws. They were locked on each other's gut, twisting, and rolling. I thought of the alligator death roll. How alligators will grab their prey and then roll under water, drowning them. "That's what my dogs are doing," I thought to myself. "They are going to keep rolling and twisting and ripping until one or both pulls the other's guts out."

You know how they talk about adrenaline rushes, like the lady that supposedly picked up a car when it fell on her husband because the panic took over her body and gave her amazing strength? I know what they are talking about now. Once the realization hit me that these two BEASTS were going to fight to the death in my living room in front of my Christmas tree, I snapped. Z-dog was about 125 pounds at the time, and S the dog was at 82 at her last vet visit. I can't eat when I am distraught, and was down to 107 from 122. And I am probably one of the wimpiest girls I know. Ask R.

None of that mattered then. I grabbed hold of both dogs and rolled. And rolled and rolled and rolled. I don't know how I was holding on to both of them but I was. The pressure in my head was intense. I hit the wall. I was by the kitchen. I got my hands in between them and SHOVED. S the dog slid into the kitchen and across the floor. I whipped shut the dog gate. I looked down and I had hair and blood and slobber all over me. There were a few teeth marks on my left hand, the first three fingers on my right had some deeper punctures. I don't know which dog it was was from. I didn't care. I crawled over to the phone and called my mom. Sobbing again, I tried to tell her what happened. Suddenly I had NO strenghth. I just collapsed on the floor.

Mom and Dad arrived. Mom immediately was trying to tend to my wounds, I, of course, was more worried about the dogs. S the dog was bleeding from the mouth and Z-dog had blood on her neck. Turns out it was from me, when I pulled on her collar and twisted I did it so hard that it actually cut her neck. Dad was ready to take S the dog out back and shoot her. He never liked her.

"Please no. Please! It's my fault. I yelled at her, Z-dog attacked! They just shouldn't be together, she is not a bad dog!"

I finally conviced them to let me take S the dog back to the SPCA. My mom called and the SPCA lady said to bring her in. I cried and sobbed the whole way there. I brought a Kong and a fuzzy squeaky toy. I held a paper towel on her muzzle. She just had a puncture wound, probably from her own tooth when she was biting Z-dog.

We got there and I led her inside. She looked around and turned back to me, as if to say "What's going on?". The SPCA lady and mom talked. I made sure to tell the SPCA lady to please, please call me if they said they were going to put her down. She said not to worry. I turned to leave and looked back at S the dog. She looked so sad. Her eyes just cried, "Why does everyone keep getting rid of me?" I broke down again and just cried "I'm so sorry S the dog. I love you." The SPCA lady said not to worry, S the dog would be fine, and they were going to fine her a nice home with no other dogs.

To this day I don't know what happened to S the dog. I was so sad after that. As if I could be any more sad. I bought her a Christmas collar and had to return it, and I cried when I remembered she had all those gifts under the tree and was probably still in a horrible cold metal cage and nobody loved her except for me and that didn't matter. I felt guilty giving Z-dog her toys.

I still get sad when I think about her. I hope she's ok.

Monday, November 08, 2004



Just sad today.

That's all.

But it'll be ok. I'll bounce back.

I always do.


Ever wonder what you look like when you are sleeping?

When she's layin' on my shoulder on the sofa in the dark
And about the time she falls asleep so does my right arm
And I want so bad to move it 'cause it's tinglin' and it's numb
But she looks so much like an angel that I don't wanna wake her up
Yeah I live for little moments
When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it
Yeah I live for little moments like that

-Brad Paisley

I don't think I look like that. I think I must look lazy and wretched and horrible.

To some people, anyway.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004


First of all, blogger is very slow today. Not sure if it's my connection or what. But that's just my luck. When one thing goes wrong, nothing else works right.


I have been wanting to blog for the last few days, but am very distracted by some female problems. I am so sick and fucking tired of having problems. I have been to so many doctors, have had so many tests, and the bottom line is just that I'm "sensitive". Which translates into itchy and burny. Which makes me feel gross and useless. And uncomfortable.

It's not a yeast infection, it's not a disease, it just a fucking sensitivity to certain things (like I can't use latex condoms) and I can develop allergic reactions to things (like KY). Argh.

R doesn't seem to understand this. He will keep demanding that I go back to the doctor. They tell me the same thing. Not yeast, not herpes, not this or that. Don't wash with soap. Don't spray with perfume (who does that?). Don't douche. Use Crisco for lube if needed - you cannot have intercourse without adequate lubrication. If I have sex when I am just the least bit dry, look out. Pain and suffering will follow. Don't sit in wet bathing suits.

Pretty much don't touch it with ANYTHING and I'll be ok. Wanna know what set me off last night? Either the lube or the vibrator. I'm leaning toward the vibe - maybe soemthing with what we use to clean it and it didn't get rinsed properly. I don't know but I am so fucking pissed off right now I could spit. I was already mildly irritated from our Sunday night session. Which was very good, but it appears I had a mild reaction to his semen. Usually he unloads all over my face or chest or back or ANYWHERE but inside me. Not Sunday. So now here I sit in agony, completely frustrated because I know another trip to the doctor will do absolutely no good.

I'm sure you all really didn't want to hear about that, but I am so FUCKING sick and tired of this happening that it (temporarily) made me feel better to blog about it.

Sorry. Hopefully I'll be better soon.