Rambo is so awesome.

Shut up with the "tributes" already.  Please.

Brought home the new puppy last night, an English Bulldog I've named Lulu.  I think my Ruby would approve.  Ruby taught me so much about love, loyalty, and companionship...and now I am faced with a whiney, wiggling bundle of cuteness and I know all those lessons will come to good use in their own time. 

Thank you, Ruby, for teaching me how to be a good mommy.  I miss you, but you'll always be in my heart. 

Lulu is full of such vigor for her young life.  It is a joy to watch her do practically anything.  And puppy breath...I'd forgotten how I love it.  Her little baby belly is so swollen and pink...oh, I am cherishing these early days.  They will be few.

She snores.  It's so fucking cute I want to cry.  She's barely bigger than a shoe.

I'm in love.

Some people just should not be allowed to post photos...

I'm in love with a zombie boy...but his heart is so cold.

Check it out for yourself...  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1e-J7nViJU8&feature=related

If you can't trust me with a gun, how can you trust me with an idea?

Today is the Day of the Deployed.  Honor Deployed Troops if you know them.  Seek them out and get to know them if you don't.  They deserve our support.

Sometimes cocks just pop out of nowhere and surprise the hell out of you!

Good scotch
A good cigar
Good music

A recipe for a fine evening indeed.

"If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you."

Oscar Wilde

The East Coast is rubbing off on me and opening my eyes to new things I'd never really considered interesting before.  Suddenly I am obsessed with the idea of All-Girl Roller Derby.  Now, I am far too delicate and like my front teeth too much to participate in the sport myself. (I'll stick to muay thai and paragliding for now, thank you very much)  However, the idea of watching a bunch of bad ass girls beating the hell out of each other while on skates is bloody awesome (pun intended)! 

There are roller derby events near here.  I could see myself getting into it as a local sport--something to get rowdy for...you know, other than hollering at the tv set during football season.  Live events are fun.  I haven't been to a game since I lived in Washington and went to Seahawks games...so getting into roller derby could be right up my alley. 

There's something I love about the contradiction of all these things.  Most people who look at me wouldn't expect me to be someone who might get so excited about roller derby, but I love the idea of it.  I love the theatrics, the smack talk, all of it. 

I definitely have to taste this new flavor of wickedness...

I am still chipping away at this move and getting my boxes unpacked.  Today I organized shoes, and I had to giggle when I took notice to the percentage of my shoes that either glitter or have some kind of sparkly embellishment on them.  Glitter...it's such a superficial decoration, and it's so unlike most other aspects of me.  Yet, I am irresistably drawn to gawdy shoes...I love them.  I love the clickety clack of my heels on a hard surface floor...I love the ways my toes look peeking through the tips...I have an addiction to twinkly shoes.  The one pair of shoes that DO NOT have twinkles on them are my running shoes, but a Bedazzler will take care of that in a jiffy!

Glittergirl visited her bad ass piercer and got some more glitter today. I love to twinkle. 

Profiles, people...prove to the world you are not as stupid as you make yourself look in your profile!  Sigh...

I know it's summer...it's hot...you're cruising Collar Me for hot, submissive honeys...you have a profile up, and you know it sucks.  But like I said, it's summer and it's hot...so you go to the fridge to get a cold drink...you open the door and it reminds you how good cool air would feel on your sweaty balls right about now.  So, you pull down your pants for a little cool air relief on your junk...but the air just makes you hard and you start playing with yourself...it happens...and oh, look...your profile still sucks!  No freaking wonder your inbox is always empty! 

I've offered profile tips before, because it is painfully obvious the creation of such profile seems to be a complete mystery to many on this site.  The residents here at CM have cycled through, so I think it's about time for a refresher course.

First and foremost, if you write anything in your profile, write SOMETHING.  What I mean by that is, write a few things that tell something about about yourself.  I love when Dominant males write things like "I want to meet a submissive with the same interests as me,"  yet they neglect to provide you with any examples of those interests.  I guess we are left to assume some or all of the following: this Dominant Male enjoys dressing up his collection of vintage Barbies, photographing the various stages of decomposition in road kill, and dye-ing his poodle's hair in wild and crazy colors.  Who the hell knows...

Secondly, make a reasonable attempt to post a flattering picture of yourself (if you post a picture.)  Not all of us are runway models, I get it.  Give me a freaking break here, people.  Some of you are idiots.  Unless it's a joke and you want to look like you have no chance of getting laid...ever.  COMB YOUR FUCKING HAIR.  CLEAN THE SPACE YOU ARE PHOTOGRAPHING (at least) and give at least an impression that you are not a obsessive compulsive masturbator who lives in his Mom's basement. 

Stop posting pictures of yourself in a Speedo.  This is America, damn it.  A Speedo, unless you are Michael Phelps, is simply an invitation to get kicked in the balls.  I mean, seriously...eeewwwww....

Stop using your profiles to whine and complain about all the fakes and scammers on this site.  We all know they are out there...you are not doing anyone a great service with this shocking discovery of yours...use your profile to tell the world what a catch you are.  It might actually work. 

Know what those squiggly red lines under words mean.  Take a moment to read your profile through once you've posted it.  Read it out loud (I was a former school teacher, this WILL help you, trust me.) Notice any squiggly red lines under any of your words?  Spell check, buddy...it's your spell check function, and those red lines all over your profile are telling smart, hot girls that YOU are a dumb, fucking idiot.  Sorry, gentleman...you need to read this, and I need to be graphic to get my point across.   Correct spelling errors.

Dear God in Heaven, get a Dictionary--or find a free one online and look up the difference between Dominate and Dominant before I come over to where ever you are and personally punch you in the throat.  Then we'll see exactly who is Dominant over who, and who is able to Dominate the English language...jeebus...

Now before my brain completely implodes, I have to write one more pet peeve.  Stop writing that you don't know what to write about yourself in your profile.  This is true for anyone, but especially Dominant males.  Seriously, dude...how do you think a submissive is supposed to have any faith you can dominate her if you can't even dominate a paragraph?  It's easy...tell us why you are an interesting person or be honest and just write:  "I am a boring, fat slob with no control over my own life but I am looking for a submissive with my same interests [not listed] to completely own and dominate 24/7.  You will be required to be caged all day as well as go out and earn a living to contribute to the household income because I am currently "between jobs"."  Sweet deal...sounds like a real hottie, eh, girls?

Good luck, men.  Some of you need it.  Others of you are already all over it...

I'm not usually a fan of this girl, but the song seemed appropriate.

I'm Not Myself Tonight
--Christina Aguilera

You know tonight
I'm feeling a little out of control
Is this me
You wanna get crazy
Cause I don't give a...

I'm out of character
I'm in rare form
If you really knew me
You'd know it's not the norm

Cause I'm doing things that I normally won't do
The old me's gone I feel brand new
And if you don't like it fuck you

The music's on and I'm dancing
I'm normally in the corner just standing
I'm feeling unusual
I don't care cause this is my night

I'm not myself tonight
Tonight I'm not the same girl (same girl)

I'm not myself tonight
Tonight I'm not the same girl (same girl)

I'm dancing a lot
I'm taking shots
And I'm feeling fine

I'm kissing all the boys and girls
Someone call the doctor cause I lost my mind

Cause I'm doing things that I normally won't do
The old me's gone I feel brand new
And if you don't like it fuck you

The music's on and I'm dancing
I'm normally in the corner just standing
I'm feeling unusual
I don't care cause this is my night

I'm not myself tonight
Tonight I'm not the same girl (same girl)

I'm not myself tonight
Tonight I'm not the same girl (same girl)

In the morning
When I wake up
I'll go back to the girl I used to be
But baby
Not tonight

I'm not myself tonight
Tonight I'm not the same girl (same girl)

I'm not myself tonight
Tonight I'm not the same girl (same girl)

Yeah
That feels good
I needed that

Yeah
Get crazy
Let's go

That's right
C'mon

Give it to me now
Don't stop
Yeah

I just had a representative from the US Census Bureau come knocking at my door because I did not fill out my census form.  I know I did not fill out my census form.  I shredded my census form.  I did not fill out my census form 10 years ago either.  There is really no reason, in this day and age, the US government needs that information, and the questions on the census violate my right to privacy as far as I’m concerned.  It also irritates the hell out of my MY tax dollars are being wasted on people who come to my door and ARGUE with me about filling it out.  The federal government is out of control and this is yet one more perfect example.  I’m not filling out one single form allocating how more of my tax dollars can be wasted.  Screw them all. 

My work outs are getting harder.  I’ve been pushing myself hard, both at the pool and at home in my gym.  90 minutes a day four days a week, 30 minutes 2 days a week with 1 rest day.  The ankle injuries are holding up fairly well.  My neck injury is starting to get my attention, though.  It is unbelievably frustrating to me because I am riding a magnificent endorphin high with my workouts right now, and it feels really good.  The world isn’t going to stop and wait for these work outs to get easier for me or for these injuries to heal.  I have no choice but to power through this.  If I could only reach around to pull the ice pick someone shoved up inside my brain…

Heart on My Sleeve
by Michael John

You think you've heard this before
I'll try and say it differently
As long as it comes naturally
It's been makin' me sad,
'Cause I can't find a better way
To speak the words I want to say to you

And know how I love you
Know how I need you

That I want you to know
I won't let you down, I can't let go
And I want you to see
Every day I wear my heart on my sleeve
On my sleeve

It's been drivin' me mad
Consistent tones and constant drones
Keep pullin' me back inside my head
Nothin' matters at all
The world will keep in spinnin' around
All these feelings keep pourin' out

Oh, I love you
Oh, I need you

That I want you to know
I won't let you down, I can't let go
And I want you to see
Every day I wear my heart on my sleeve
On my sleeve

Yeah, I try to write the words down, yeah
Before they are lost and won't come out
Oh please help me save my soul

That I want you to know
I won't let you down, I can't let go
And I want you to see
Every day I wear my heart on my sleeve
On my sleeve

Heart on my sleeve
Heart on my sleeve
Heart on my sleeve, yeah

No, I can't let it go, I can't let it go
Oh, I want you to know
Won't let you down
Every day, yeah, I can't let go
I wear my heart on my sleeve

To Love Somebody
Various Artists


There's a light a certain kind a light
That never shone on me
I want my life to be
To live with you to live with you

And there's a way everybody says
To do each and every little thing
But what does it mean
If i ain't got you if ain't got you?

'cause you don't know what it's like
You don't know what it's like
To love somebody to love somebody
The way i love you

If i pray i see your face again
But i know not where to find
You ain't got to be so blind
I'm blind so very very blind

I'm a man can't you see what i am?
I'd move heaven and earth for you
But what does this man do
If he ain't got you if he ain't got you?

'cause you don't know what it's like baby
You don't know what it's like
To love somebody to love somebody
The way i love you i love you i love you

'cause you don't know what it's like baby
You don't know what it's like
To love somebody to love somebody
The way i love you i love you i love you ha

Ooh yeah
Ooh yeah
Oh baby

You don't know what it's like
You never never know what it's like
To love somebody to love somebody
The way i love you i love you i love you yeah

You never never know what it's like
Honey oh baby
I love ya i love ya i love ya
God almighty i love ya

Your Sex Is On Fire
Kings of Leon

Lay where you're laying, don't make a sound
I know they're watching, they're watching
All the commotion, the kiddie like play
Has people talking, talking

You, your sex is on fire

The dark of the alley, the breaking of day
The head while I'm driving, I'm driving
Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale
Feels like you're dying, you're dying

You, your sex is on fire
Consumed with what's to transpire

Hot as a fever, rattling bones
I could just taste it, taste it
If it's not forever, if it's just tonight
Oh, it's still the greatest, the greatest, the greatest

You, your sex is on fire
And you, your sex is on fire
Consumed with what's to transpire

And you, your sex is on fire
Consumed with what's to transpire

God gave me water to heal myself today.  I know He did.  I ran in deep water like I used to run on land—with every ounce of energy I had in me.  I had my waterproof I Pod hooked up, and I worked myself hard for an hour finding my grace, my anthem, my inner strength…trying to find that beautiful woman inside again.  I know she’s in there somewhere.  I’m trying to learn to run on land again, but I am slow and meek.  In the water I am powerful and enduring.  I am changing.  I am transforming.  It happens periodically in my life.  It usually hurts and then feels really good afterwards.  But I’m older now.  I can’t keep doing what I did when I was 20.

There's a storm in your eyes I've seen coming for awhile

I feel like I'm moving in the rhythm of your grace
Your fragrance is intoxicating in our secret place

Who knew…the whole time you were building walls to keep intruders out you were actually locking yourself in with the truth?  The truth won’t keep quiet forever…

Now here's a song you can grind to...a little Bill Withers for y'all...

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.
It's not warm when she's away.
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and she's always gone too long
anytime she goes away.

Wonder this time where she's gone,
wonder if she's gone to stay
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away.

And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know

Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone,
but ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
only darkness everyday.
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
and this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away.

I’ve been thinking a lot about kissing lately.  It has to be one of my favorite things to do.  It’s definitely one of the hottest and most intimate ways to mingle one’s soul with another.  I’ve never been able to kiss with my eyes open though.  Everything comes through my lips…I have to close my eyes…because it feels like I’m creating art with my mouth using my spirit as the medium.  It probably sounds hideously corny, but it’s absolutely true, and anyone who’s kissed me can verify it.  I give myself over to the experience.    

There are so many different kinds of kisses and it’s so easy to get lost in each one of them.  Lately my mind has been preoccupied with the idea of restraint and savoring each delectable, lingering moment of a kiss, even when it hangs in midair and not yet engaged.  Lips moist, breathing labored.  All the tiny hairs on the surface of your face are suddenly electrified and alert at the closeness of another.  Chest tightening.  The sound of your breathing seeming so loud it’s almost deafening.  You just want to crawl inside the other person.  They are so close…right there…barely a hair’s breadth separates you…and then you kiss.  It starts off slow.  Tongues sliding over lips and teeth.  Soft.  Gentle.  Pressing.  Hungrier now.  Remember how it feels when you practically want to feed off their lips?  Passion might lead to accidental biting.  The taste of blood is strangely erotic, though. 

It really becomes a dance between tongues once the mouth opens.  I don’t know how we all learn to kiss.  No one really teaches us.  I definitely have met bad kissers, they do exist, just as exceptional kissers do.  I like to think of myself as someone who just gets lost in a kiss.  I don’t even think about what I do…I just let go and let my instincts take me away.

A kiss isn’t a kiss until I come away with it with all my kiss proof lipstick smeared, and burn from his facial growth.  That’s why a lady always keeps spare lipstick and powder in her purse!

Damn it, now I’m horny.

I am finding my center in the water.  I used to find it at about mile five of a hard run.  I miss being able to use myself up like that…it clarifies you.  My injuries don’t appreciate it so much anymore, and I am forced to learn new ways I can push myself physically without hurting myself.  I’ve recently discovered deep water running, and though it is a totally different experience than running on land, I am finding it cathartic.  Finally, I seem to be climbing out of the darkness I was stuck in last week.  There’s something so cleansing about using your muscles to fatigue.  I’m still amazed I can sweat in water!  This old body of mine has carried me through many an adventure and many a tragedy and we’re still here…a little battle worn, but not ready to hang it up yet.

This has been a year of profound loss, but also of profound joy.  Grief cannot exist without its counterpart of love.  It will also be my year of transformation.  I’m not done with myself yet.  That’s one of the greatest joys of being me—I’m always reinventing myself. 

Today for the first time in a long time, I felt a lot less alone in this great big world. 

You think these little pebbles will keep me from what’s mine? Again he scoffs. I’m boiling. I can feel the flesh on the bottoms of my feet bubble up. I can smell my flesh burning. I am angry. I am tiny. I am melting. I run from him and as I do, I can feel my legs dissolve beneath me. First my toes, then my ankles, my calves, my knees…Good, now you can’t run from me you little whore. So I crawl. Arms reaching out in front of me dragging the seared stumps that once gave me the power to run.

He walks right up to me. Tell me you love me, you filthy little cunt. I refuse. I will not. I crawl, slow and helpless, pitifully…he barely has to stroll to keep my pace. He stops to smoke a cigarette and flicks the butt of it towards me in mockery. Will you just stop? Look at you! You can’t escape me. I hiss at him. Fine. He leans down to me, heaves me up like a sack of potatoes on his waist and continues. I don’t have time for this. I’m taking what’s mine. You have no choices. Your purpose is me. Your reason to be is me. Just open your eyes.

I scratch at him. Put me down! For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to feel his hold on me. The way his flesh feels pressed against mine. I hate him. I love him. I can not feel where I end and he begins. His flesh is beneath my nails. I press my fingers to my mouth and taste him. His blood is rich and thick, and salty on my tongue.

Go ahead and consume me, my love, for now I will live inside of you. He stops, gingerly sets me down. I cling to his strong arms for balance but see my legs beginning to regenerate. They are stronger and leaner than before. Does this surprise you, my love? That consuming me allows you to grow? You have no idea. My flesh, my blood, my seed, my piss…you will consume it all and it will give you strength like you’ve only imagined, so stop fighting it. Stand up, see for yourself.

I don’t understand this journey of mine. I get so arrogant thinking I know the way. I stack the stones. I man the gate. I stand seductively at the iron. They watch. They stop. They rattle the iron. They masturbate at my gates, and I let them. I used to open the door. But now I grab stones and clock them in the head when they get too close. I contradict my desire, my heart, my soul. I am a submissive. I am a slave. I don’t even own the key to this part of myself anymore because there is none. There is just Dominance, who’s steadfast and confident. He doesn’t need the key. He knows how to scale the walls. He sits on their highest point entertaining himself while I fend off invaders. My walls mean nothing to him, they are just a place for him to sit and rest. He comes down from that high point when he wants. He takes what he wants when he wants it. My fight is futile. His love is thick and swallows me whole.

I bought another pair of shoes yesterday.  I thought maybe it would help.  Like any temporary solution, they made me feel good for awhile—and I knew this would be true when I bought them.  I wasn’t born yesterday.  Sometimes there are no easy fixes. 

Trying to hold it altogether is like trying to keep a litter of puppies on a rug. 

I was just sitting out on my porch in Montgomery County, Maryland enjoying a warm spring afternoon with the dogs when the weather suddenly became a torrent of stormy, swirling winds.  The dogs were suddenly in a crazed state of dogginess, barking and running around in circles.  One cat was asleep on the porch railing in the middle of all the wind; two cats were freaking out inside; and one cat was asleep inside and apparently had no clue what was going on.  The change in the atmosphere outside was so dramatic and instantaneous; it seemed to make an impression on creatures great and small.  Even the bees seemed stirred up.  (Is it me, or are the bumble bees in DC downright obese?)  So, there must be a storm brewing…I’m not ready to lose my sunshine yet.  I need to be able to hold on to the little things, like a gorgeous spring day.  I have a lot of major life stressors going on right now.  This storm is too poetic.  I wanted to go out and stand in the middle of it…just hold my arms out and lean into it.  I just might do that still.

One of the funniest damn songs I've heard in years...

I'm Awesome!
by, Spose

awesome, awesome, awesome,awesome,awesome,awesome
i don’t necessarily have to be here for this
im gonna keep the headphones though
motherfucker I’m awesome!!!
no you’re not dude don’t lie
I’m awesome!!!
i’m drivin around in my mom’s ride
I’m awesome!!!
a quarter of my life gone by and
i met all my friends online
mother fucker I’m awesome!!!
i will run away from a brawl
I’m awesome!!!
there’s no voice mail nobody called
I’m awesome!!!
i can’t afford to buy eight ball
and i talk to myself
on my facebook wall

you know my pants sag low (low)
even though (though) that went out of style
like ten years ago (go)
spose, i got the swagger of a cripple
i got little biceps,
getting fatter in the middle

and lyrically i’m not the best
physically the opposite of randy
moss and yet so preposterous
feel the awesomeness the most obnoxious
guest up at the sausage fest
oh yes!
the girls are repulsed so i hide
in my hood like i’m joining a cult
uh uhh
i’m as nervous as my cattle dirty curtis
all my writtens are bitten and
all my verses are purchased
me? i’ii never date an actress
got to many back zits
plus my whole home aroma is cat piss
every show i do is poorly
promoted and if you like this
it’s cuz my little sister wrote it

I’m awesome!!!
no you’re not dude don’t lie
I’m awesome!!!
i’m drivin around in my mom’s ride
I’m awesome!!!
a quarter of my life gone by and
i met all my friends online
mother fucker I’m awesome!!!
i will run away from a brawl
I’m awesome!!!
there’s no voice mail nobody called
I’m awesome!!!
i can’t afford to buy eight ball
and i talk to myself
on my facebook wall

swagger of a cripple

check it out

i’m from Maine and i don’t hunt nope
and i can’t ski
smoke weed but i can’t roll blunts
might be whipped by my wifey
but my necks not icy
eatin’ at Mcdonalds because subway is pricey

uh and my unibrow is plucked
just ask my mom if i could borrow ten bucks
shes like “for what?
blunt wraps and some heinekens?
you skinny prick, go get a gym membership and vitamins”
i’m like mom please don’t blame it on me
i got my bad habits from
you, dad, and aunt steve
my attitudes sour but my futon’s sweet
and the hair on my ass it is jumanji

suit untailored, ringtone taylor swift
can’t tweet up on my twitter
cuz i haven’t done shit
blank account red, body ungroomed
the good thing about me is i’m off stage soon

I’m awesome!!!
no you’re not dude don’t lie
I’m awesome!!!
i’m drivin around in my mom’s ride
I’m awesome!!!
a quarter of my life gone by and
i met all my friends online
mother fucker I’m awesome!!!
i will run away from a brawl
I’m awesome!!!
there’s no voice mail nobody called
I’m awesome!!!
i can’t afford to buy eight ball
and i talk to myself
on my facebook wall

further more i’m cornier than ethynol
cheesier than provolone
i spent years eight to ten living in a motor home
with a ego the size of Tim Duncan
even though i got shit for brains like a blumpkin
i’m twenty four serving lobster rolls
because i spent a decade filling
optimus and i’m not even the bomb in maine
on my game and only about as sexy as John Mccain.
Now put your hands up if you have nightmares.
If you wouldn’t man up.
If there was a fight here.
If you got dandruff.
If you drink light beer.

Im outta Breath !!!!

But, I’m awesome!!!
no you’re not dude don’t lie
I’m awesome!!!
i’m drivin around in my mom’s ride
I’m awesome!!!
a quarter of my life gone by and
i met all my friends online
mother fucker I’m awesome!!!
i will run away from a brawl
I’m awesome!!!
there’s no voice mail nobody called
I’m awesome!!!
i can’t afford to buy eight ball
and i talk to myself
on my facebook wall.

I’m awesome !!!!!!!

STILL one of my all time favorite songs...

Come Pick Me Up
Ryan Adams

When they call your name
Will you walk right up?
With a smile on your face?
Or will you cower in fear
In your favorite sweater
With an old love letter?

I wish you would
I wish you would

Come pick me up
Take me out
Fuck me up
Steal my records
Screw all my friends
They're all full of shit
With a smile on your face
And then do it again
I wish you would

When you're walking downtown
Do you wish I was there?
Do you wish it was me?
With the windows clear
And the mannequins eyes
Do they all look like mine?

You know you could
I wish you would

Come pick me up
Take me out
Fuck me up
Steal my records
Screw all my friends
Behind my back
With a smile on your face
And then do it again
I wish you would

I wish you'd make up my bed
So I could make up my mind
Try it for sleeping instead
Maybe you'll rest sometime

I wish I could (2x)

I spent a lovely Easter Sunday in Washington DC enjoying the sunshine and walking the Mall with my husband.  We visited the war memorials and I am once again reminded of all the fine American soldiers who have placed themselves in harm’s way in the service of our great nation.  I am fortunate enough to include several combat soldiers as friends and I am in awe of them and their experiences.  Their bravery and ability to remain calm and focused in the face of great danger is something I am amazed by.  We are so fortunate to enjoy the freedoms so many of us take for granted each day.  We enjoy those freedoms because of the fine men and women who serve and protect our nation.  Don’t forget to thank them every chance you get—past or present service.  Don’t wait for Veteran’s Day to thank a soldier—thank them each time you see one.  Make it personal and make it meaningful.

"We are each of us angels with only one wing. And we can only fly embracing each other." -- Luciano De Crescenzo

We’ve all done it—we complain about all the posers, fakes, cam models, tribute seekers, HNGs, and World of Warcraft ass clowns who sit in front of their computers and masturbate all day. Go ahead, flip through some profiles with journals and see how long it takes you to find 10 people complaining about how many losers are hanging out online. Hey, the big, hairy guy in the baby diapers makes me scratch my head, too…

I’ve been on this site since 2005, though, and I keep coming back. I’ve met some truly amazing people here, I don’t care what any of you say! I always mention my husband at this point, as he found me on Collar Me, and he is the love of my life. But I have also found a caliber of friend here that can take my breath away, and I feel lucky indeed to have my path cross theirs. I am reminded today that we all have just the one wing.  My friend does not strangle me with his embrace, but holds me gingerly with a hand on the small of my back guiding me through the rocky cathedrals, soaring across a kaleidoscope of colors in his sky. Thank you, Greg. Thank you so much. What is even lovelier is knowing I help him fly, too. 

Smart Cars just aren't sexy.  I think if a guy tried to pick me up and take me out anywhere in one, after peeing myself laughing...(I'm sorry, but in my eyes, it's just not a masculine choice for a vehicle)...I would RUN, not walk, in the opposite direction.  Those things are death pods.  An accident in a Smart Car is a ticket to the morgue.  So, go ahead and save Mother Earth, we need to clear out the gene pool anyway.

No farewell words were spoken,

no time to say goodbye,

 you were gone before we knew it,

and only God knows why.

 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.

I do not give to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

John 14:27

Be thankful for the love in your life. 

Can someone please explain to me the whole draw of the puppy fetish?  I keep coming across these profiles, primarily of male slaves/submissives, and I'm trying to imagine what it is that makes lit sexy to see a grown man with a puppy tail,  long puppy ears and a black puppy nose barking at the mailman.  I think if I saw a man on all fours, wagging his tail and barking like a yappy little mutt, my first instinct would be to through a shoe at him. 

Just One More Song

I’m battling a new addiction.  The worst one is causing me a great deal of physical pain but I can’t pull myself away from it until I am practically in tears!  My husband is slowly turning me on to gaming.  I should probably write up front that we do, in fact, possess all the gaming systems:  Xbox 360, Playstation 3, and the Wii.  It’s sinful, I know.)  He’s been battling his Guitar Hero addiction since before Christmas but it makes my wrists hurt so I never cared much for it.  Then we were milling around Best Buy for one of the mall restaurants to open and he got me to try Rock Band.  He played guitar and put me on drums.  It took one song and I was hooked…Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi for crying out loud!  It’s embarrassing. 

We’ve gotten caught up in for hours at a time.  The house is a wreck.    Laundry is piling up.  I’m in horrible pain.   Oh, this is where I reveal a herniated disc right where the cervical and thoracic regions meet in my spine (around the “hump” of the neck/shoulders area for those of you who aren’t quite sure where I’m talking about.)  Yeah, this is an injury that can make life very UNfun for me at times, but I digress.  He keeps telling me all I need to do is tap the drum pads, and I honestly do try.  I make it a song or two.  Then the pounding grows on me and I end up playing them like real drums.  He says (and I quote) “You look like Animal from the Muppets when you’re playing!” 

I can’t stop, I’ve developed an addiction and it’s just been two days.  Just one more song…  My hands are numb.  I have a blister.  Now I’m on the sofa recuperating, nearly in tears because it feels like someone has simultaneously stabbed me in the neck with an ice pick and set me on fire.  He’s put down the guitar  and has taken over my drums.  Yes, MINE!  Tap, tap, tap…he plays like a girl.  At least I break a sweat. 

It's my birthday today.  My husband is so cute...sneaking in with gifts he bought.  He even wrapped them in wild tiger print paper!  He got me one of those Wii Fit boards, a couple of Perfect Shot pistols for the Wii controls and two shooting games so I can shoot big game and zombies...depending on my mood of course!  I managed fairly well with the zombies, but the elk were practically stampeding me and I only managed to bag two of them and a mule deer!  A lot of fun, though.  I loved the way he thoughts about what I'd like and tried to share his love of gaming with me.  Now, if I can just get him off my Wii Fit board...

After browsing profiles, I'm beginning to think I should hire myself out to write profiles that will attract women.  I guess I am a person who has had the benefit of having the skill of writing come easily to her.  So, admittedly it's difficult for me to understand why some people find it so challenging to write an interesting, coherent, intelligent, grammatically correct, and captivating profile.  Did everyone flunk high school and college English?!   Ack, and the flowery "just suppose" profiles are even worse!  Don't write half ass porn and pass it off as your profile.  It sounds like you're just looking for something to jerk off to from behind your computer! 

I'm just glad I'm married to an intelligent man. 

I was browsing at profiles recently and noting how many bragging shots people post of “dungeons” with elaborate equipment and all the toys displayed proudly on the walls.  This looks kinda cool, but one thought immediately comes to mind…don’t these people ever have family or visitors come stay with them?  I’m trying to imagine my parents coming for a visit and having one room in our home strictly off limits.  Like the cats that we lock out of the upstairs rooms, there’s nothing more that those darn cats want than to sneak behind those closed doors.  My parents don’t really go into my bedroom, nor do I go in theirs very often, but if the door is cracked open for any reason, there’s nothing but dirty laundry I have to hide.  Maybe if we had a finished basement…

I had no idea putting in a garden would be this hard.  It’s not even that big, just 8’ x 19’.  We’re probably doing it the most difficult way, but we’re novices, so everything we do has a learning curve involved.  Today we purchased picket fencing to keep the dogs out, but installing that this weekend was foolishly ambitious.  We managed to dig up the turf with the rototiller, but discovered lots of rock beneath.  So I’ve spent the better part of the day raking and trying to pull out the clods of turf and at least the biggest of the rocks.  We’re still going to need plenty of top soil, though.

I’m so exhausted, I just want to space out in front of the tv tonight…there’s still so much to be done tomorrow.

The funniest line I’ve heard in awhile, from a patient in an institute for the criminally insane:

The world around me is shrinking.  The four horsemen of the Apocalypse are coming to see me this afternoon but they aren’t bringing any flowers and it’s making it really hard to get organized!

Ever feel like that?!

We’ve decided to start trying to get pregnant.  After all, I am in the twilight of my breeding years and we really want a family and would prefer at least one child of our combined genes.  We will be married soon (thus I will soon be insured) and we are getting a head start on our family garden, so to speak.   So, ovulation and some rather lovely sowing has taken place and now we are left to see if any of his seeds will germinate.

So, now is the waiting game…waiting for another two weeks to see if I’m “late”…waiting to give my body a chance to produce any HcG that can be detected in a pregnancy test.  It feels a little like waiting for Christmas or my birthday as a kid.  Trying not to get my hopes up to high, yet still remaining excited.  Will it take?  What’s happening in there?  Why does a day, a week, two weeks last so long?!

My girl-plumbing is hyper-sensitive, which isn’t helping much.  Every twinge seems to be noticeable.  Things down there just seem to be more…just more.  I can’t tell if it’s wishful thinking, self-induced hyper sensitivity because I’m paying attention, or if the magic is happening down there. 

Tick tock, tick tock…

Not that it does or should make a difference, but I am over my Bettie Page thing.  I was sad for the afternoon, but the more I started thinking about it, the more I realized being sad at all was pointless.  I’m not that person anymore for one thing.  For another, most of the folks whining on the flame site are just a bunch of pickled twats to begin with, so who cares if Renee wallows in the vinegar along with them?  If she wants to sink to those depths, selectively mis-remember the time we spent together and exploit it online so she can gleam in some freak light because we’ve met in person and she has a so-called “real life” expertise on what a savage cunt I supposedly am…well, it’s her story. 

I don’t make any apologies for being a conservative.  My only apologies are for the few occasions I lower myself to the common denominator of those folks on the forum and I forget my manners.  I don’t apologize for my views, though, but I’m not so stubborn I am not at least willing to consider an opposing argument if it’s presented in an intelligent fashion.   In my personal life, I count among friends many people I disagree with politically, but politics do not define who I am and who I am friendly with.  I don’t categorize those I count as friends.  I don’t have black friends or gay friends or liberal friends…I have friends and they may or may not also be any one or more of those things as well.  I have enough respect for them to understand and appreciate their right to believe in their own way based on their own life experiences.

I am amused by what they have written about me on that web site.  I know they are frothy, longing for me to show up and post some sort of rebuttal to their flaming.  One poster actually wrote she would spit on me if she saw me on the street!  Big words from behind a computer screen.  However, in the depths where people like that dwell, I actually don’t doubt her.  That’s the difference between animals and intelligent creatures.  Even as mind numbingly idiotic as some of the liberal posters I argue with on the forums are, I would never consider such behavior.  It’s beneath me.  I enjoy the fight, I really do.  I enjoy stirring up excitable topics, I really do.  But at the end of the day, I like to believe those in cyber space that I disagree with are every day folks just like me.    

The value of such passionate discussions are lost to so many who frequent that flaming site.  They are toxic, venomous, revengeful creatures.  For folks like them, the idea is lost that our political views are but a small fraction of what defines us as individuals.  To them I am some seething, hateful conservative monster hell bent on destroying social progression.  Wow…I’m such a villainess…maybe I should get a cape or mask, or maybe even my own comic book!

Hard Lessons

I don’t generally use my blog to get too personal, but I learned something new today.  I came across a thread about me on a flaming web site.  It was mostly the same old stuff from the same people who flame me in the political forums I frequent.  I do enjoy the good fight there.  All that aside, none of the flames bothered me at all…except those from one poster who shall remain nameless.  It’s someone who knew me in person during a very difficult period in my life right after my divorce.  I made some really bad decisions in those days.  Still reeling from the violence of my marriage, jumping right into the fire with someone who lied and used me (and believe me, I blame myself for being naïve and unstable enough to allow it), I engaged in some rather uncharacterized, impulsive behaviors.  Thinking back on those times, they were pretty dark.  I was a few months out of a major surgery gone wrong; transitioning from a failed, violent marriage; and made the mistake of putting my trust into a person who violated it greatly and cost me many thousands of dollars.  For putting my trust in the wrong person and supporting him and his children, I hold only myself responsible.  I was naïve and vulnerable, but ultimately I made the bad decision to move in with him.  At the time it felt like my world had no gravity and I had nothing to hold onto to stabilize myself.  As a result, I did some weird things. 

During that time I was introduced to a new friend and she was like a beam of light into a world that was otherwise dark and terrible unstable.  I really enjoyed our time together.   It (seemed) we had a lot in common.  We never had really deep conversations.  We never discussed politics.  We mostly talked about…well, GUYS (big surprise.) 

When I left the area I knew her from, she was bound for Europe and a Dom she supposedly loved.  I tried repeatedly to re-establish an email friendship with her, but chalked it up to her busy new life.  I truly never had any idea the true feelings she harbored for me.  Admittedly, I was very focused on my own drama when I left that community to move to Washington, but I didn’t realize how I peripherally involved her.  I just needed a friend, and I thought she saw that I was just going through a really difficult transition period.

People are afraid to be honest with each other.  All the times I contacted her, if I’d only known how she really felt, I would have apologized.  I was indeed self absorbed, but then…I needed to be.  It was a long hard transition until I found stable ground.  Still, during that time she was such a source of light in my life and I always held fond memories of her.

It wasn’t until recently, when I discovered myself as a topic on a flaming web site that I stumbled across her comments about me.  It took several posts for me to figure out who she was.  She said she knew me in real life and offered details about my life…amongst all the other flames, it was a shock to discover.  Like I said, nothing anyone said on that site bothered me in the least (I’d heard most of it before)…but what she said bothered me.  It brought tears to my eyes.  It was honest and undiluted from her and it left me in absolute shock.

I tried apologizing to her for involving her in any of that mess.  I was a bit malignant in those days, I’ll admit that much.  When it went bad after the separation, it metastasized in all areas of my life.  So today I cleaned up some old messes.  It may not matter to her.  Our politics vary greatly, and that may be enough for her to toss me comfortably into the “psycho bin”.  That’s okay.  My heart is still stinging a little.  I’ll recover.  I have a beautiful life; this is just a tiny road bump.  Maybe it’s good I read her honest critique of me.  Maybe it’ll cause me to grow.

I know who I am NOW.  It’s a long ways from where I was THEN.  I am stable.  I am loved.  I am happy.  I’ve lived a million lifetimes in my 38 years.  Occasionally those lifetimes collide and knock me on my ass.  Never hurts to find a little humbleness.  Thanks, Bettie Page…you know who you are.

Doms Who Bug Me…a rant.

Can you be a “responsible and trusting” person if you are on this site, married and conducting yourself without your spouse’s knowledge?  I was contacted by such a person not too long ago.  I politely told him “thanks but no thanks if your wife doesn’t know” regarding any communication after stating quite clearly I was not seeking any online or real time sexual encounters.  Apparently this offended him, which is fine—I don’t mind offending people when it’s just.  He did leave me alone after that, but I occasionally come across his profile when I’m silently cyber-cruising.  (I might add, before I get a flurry of “You hypocrite” emails) that my fiancé knows I cyber cruise.  It’s all innocent and friendly.  I have no need to hide anything from him and NO desire to replace him.  I cruise to unwind…I guess I could smoke, watch soap operas, or any number of things…but that’s what I do.

Just today I got an unsolicited email from a guy who said he wanted to give me a pearl necklace.  Now, okay folks…I do have a provocative statement regarding pearl necklaces in my profile.  It does occasionally elicit saucy emails, which I generally reply to with some sort of statement regarding my relationship status, “but thanks for writing.”  So I replied “My jewelry box is full from my sweetie, but thanks anyways.”  It was a polite way of telling him I was spoken for without being rude.   But then he had to go and reply “I guess you don't know the definition of a "pearl necklace."  That’s where my toleration runs thin.  One of my pet peeves is people who treat me like I’m an idiot.  I could have told the guy to bugger off, but he just had to get a last dig in.  I may not be MENSA material, but I’m pretty damn smart.  After all, my fiancé is a doctor, all his friends are doctors, and I can hold my own *just fine* in a room full of doctors, so I ain’t no dumb bunny.  You know what’s nice to read?  It’s nice—after sending a “thanks but I’m in a relationship” email to get back a response that reads “He’s a lucky man.”  Admittedly, I get plenty of them…and you know what, THANKS.  It’s nice to know gentlemen still exist.

Okay folks, what’s with these tribute profiles to one’s “owners”, “Masters”, “Mistresses”, etc???  The groveling, the verbal elevation, almost religious undertone of praise to the dominant…I actually see this more with male submissives than female, but it exists on both sides. 

“I am now owned and exclusively servicing the almighty, goddess of wonder.  She is the air I breathe, she is the source of all goodness in my life.  I worship her and hope I can find a place at her feet where I can trim her beautiful toenails and consume the clippings…”

COME ON PEOPLE, are you serious?!  Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve written about my sweetheart and how happy I am to be in love with him, and that’s not the type of stuff I’m talking about.  I’m talking about the verbally gilded architecture of homage these people create.  It’s over the top!  Then you click on the profile of the dominant being paid homage to, and you see NO mention of that slave, but often times a profile with a list of strict commands to be followed for initiating contact and continued solicitation for more slaves.  Don’t even get me started on tributes…it makes me ill to think of some snot-nosed 19 year old diva wanna be demanding tribute of some form by some shlubby 50 year old, back woods submissive.  Wake up, people.  Send me your money if you’re so keen to burn it up on nothing.  At least I’ll give you some sound advice and a good slap to the back of the head to send you back into reality!


I think there are a lot of people on this site who have a slipping grasp on reality.  D/s can exist in an every day relationship, but do you want to PAY for it?  And because you are a submissive should you grovel publically as a gesture to a dominant?  What makes them feel they need that?  It sounds suspiciously like compensation to me.  Is your dominant some fry cook at McDonalds demanding public worship to elevate him to a feeling of importance in the world?  Ask yourself some questions, submissives.  A true, confident Dominant doesn't need that.  What has happened to intimacy?  Why is there a need to display it for all to see?


Okay, I'm going to go clean his shaving clippings out of the sink now and make a collage for him as a way of saying I love you...


hee hee 

HOW TO ATTRACT WOMEN TO YOUR PROFILE

Dear Dom Guys:

I get a chuckle out of the different approaches people take in posting a profile.  Some of you out there need some serious help.  Others of you have it right on the mark. 

Let’s start with picture selection, for instance.  I think I am a fairly average girl in terms of how I see thing in the world of virtual dating.  When I used to troll for fresh meat, what attracted me most about a profile photo was seeing someone normal looking—and attractive, of course.  Attractiveness is highly subjective, so I won’t even bother to comment on the specifics there.  Pictures showing men doing everyday things—or glimpses of men in their normal life are very revealing and attractive to me, as they are to most women I’d venture to say.  Just today I saw some wonderful pictures of a guy doing yard work—I LOVED the approach he took.  It spoke volumes about who he was as a person (I knew automatically he enjoyed doing things outdoors, for instance.)  Candid shots of a man, especially ones in which the man is smiling, also often get a second look from me.  Never underestimate the power of a smile.  It doesn’t reflect any lesser degree of “domliness” in a guy, so don’t fall into that trap.  Also, don’t be afraid to take some creative license in your picture.  I just saw another great profile today of a guy’s image reflected in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, and the background of the picture showed the open road.  That tells me he is creative, and creative men are often creative doms…and they are always worth a double take.

OK, so here’s a list of definite NO-NOs…unless you don’t mind ridicule, because these are exactly the yahoos us girls make fun of.

DO NOT post pictures of yourself looking menacing.  It’s time you know, YOU LOOK LIKE A DORK.

DO NOT post pictures of your bare body unless you are extremely hot, and even then, save it for later.  Hairy, pasty beer bellies will not attract women.  I promise. 

Comb your hair for crying out loud.

Pictures of you loafing on a hideously ugly sofa also do NOT inspire us girls to reasonably believe you will ever get off your ass and be any fun at all.

Don’t be afraid to learn about your photo editing program.  Most computers come with them.  Crop out non-essentials like your neighbor’s house in the background, or the street behind you.  There’s nothing more frustrating than a picture with 90% background and the focal point (that’s YOU) from a far distance.  On the flipside, don’t go crazy with special effects.  It makes us wonder what you are trying to cover up.

OK, boys.  It’s time for some tough love about your profile content.  Dom or sub, some of you need to be slapped into some sense.  This is what women really want to know:

Other than getting a good blow job, what do you enjoy about life?  Getting some ass is only a small part of a healthy relationship.  From experience, the ass is so much sweeter when you have some substance between you.

You guys out number us girls.  For every 100 emails you send out, you're probably lucky to get a 10% return on response, am I right?  So, what makes you special?  What makes you stand out?  What makes us think you have any potential?  Be proactive.  Look at your competition.  How can you make your profile stand out?


If you do any of these things, please see me because I’m going to give you a good slap to the back of the head:

DO NOT fill your profile with flowery prose!  Most of you have over inflated egos about your writing abilities.  I have to be brutally honest, most of you suck as writers.  Post this shit as a blog, please.  As a former school teacher, I long for a virtual red pen for all your run-on sentences and complete lack of paragraphing.  Plus…this sort of approach always makes me think you just do this because you’re a frustrated masturbator.

ERASE every instance where you say you are a “strict but fair” Dom.  80-90% of male profiles contain those three words, or some other variance.  It’s irritating.  It’s BORING.  Good writers—writers who captivate a reader’s attention use the practice of “show, don’t tell.” 

NEVER, EVER post pictures of people who are not you.  DO NOT misrepresent yourself physically by posting a picture of some International Male model trying to pass it off as you.  Most of them are fags anyways.  Remember that!  And please, show a little critical thinking and don’t post pictures of you with a group or another person without blocking their face or cropping them out.  If they knew you posted their picture on a kink site, you’ll likely get sued or at the very least really piss them off.  Plus, it demonstrates you are an idiot for not knowing any better.

DO NOT write that you don’t know what to say about in your profile.  That translates into:  “I’m about as smart as a box of rocks and have no imagination, so don’t expect me to able to handle dominating you if I can’t even come up with some reasonably interesting content for my profile.”

DO NOT start off writing demands or what you want.  Start off by writing what you are and have to offer.  This practice demonstrates confidence.  Dom or sub, ultimately you are selling a product, and that product is YOU.

I hope these tips come of to some use for those who bother to read them.  Good Luck with your pursuit.  I am getting married next month and I'm madly in love.  I met him right here on Collar Me.

I don’t understand those who are pursuing online-only relationships.  Well, I actually let me rephrase that statement—I understand them, I just can’t identify with them.  Not too long ago I received an email from a married man who, out of one side of his mouth praised his wife and family life.  From the other side of his mouth he said he was never really in love with his wife and she didn’t have any interest in pursuing his BDSM leanings.  He was also a “writer”—and forgive me from being cynical, but most writers I’ve come across on these sites are barely literate and just crank out half rate masturbation material at best.  Let me add, I am not speaking about this person in particular as I’ve never read his writing—the whole writer thing is a side bar for me because I hate profiles with flowery, sloppy prose fantasy instead of any real substance about the person.  But I digress…

..Anyhow, this whole exchange was quite brief because I told him I was NOT interested in pursuing anything beyond a friendly exchange, and I asked right up front if his wife was aware of his online dealings.  She was not, of course, as they rarely ever are.  I, on the other hand, share many of my email exchanges with my fiancé and he certainly has my log on info if he ever wanted to get into my account to read any exchanges for himself.  This person was looking for “inspiration to write”, which seemed fairly evident that he was looking for intimate details to jerk off to—but he had also had several “online relationships,” which leads me to my topic at hand.

I’ll be the first to admit I got roped into some budding “online relationships” when I first became active in pursuing people via the computer.  I quickly abandoned them, however, when I came to realize they would likely never get offline.  Seriously people, what’s the point?  To me, being in a committed relationship with a spouse or partner and pursuing “online relationships” unbeknownst to that spouse or partner is the virtual equivalent of infidelity.  Now, I’m not opposed to relationships getting started online.  In fact, for the past ten years that is the only place I’ve met my lovers and boyfriends, including my former spouse.  But if after a reasonable connection has been made and no serious effort is expended to work towards meeting—whether it be for a date with someone locally or a trip for someone at a distance—I would immediately get suspicious and start feeling seeds of distrust grow.  There’s always a reason people make excuses for not meeting.  In my experience some of the reasons have included but not been limited to: the person I was “connecting with” also apparently was connecting with a lot of other women and had one of them actually move in with him right in the middle of our exchange; spouses were discovered (“I’m going to leave them, just not right NOW”); economic  situations covered up (one person claimed they designed restaurants when I actually discovered he and both his dysfunctional children were on social security); or the person misrepresented himself physically. 

What is the point of online pursuits if it will never lead to a physical real life relationship?  That is what I don’t understand.  I am also quite in love with my fiancé, and can never imagine loving and respecting him while dabbling in any form of virtual sex. 

I’m getting married.  Planning this wedding has been masking me somewhat crazy…at least until recently.  Coordinating all the details is no easy task, and we’re looking into getting hitched before we get into June too far.  What should be an incredible adventure and pleasure to plan was making me fall apart.

He’s not doing much better than I am.  He’s assumed a department chief position temporarily and his admin works has grown exponentially.  There just aren’t enough hours in the day to get all his work done.  When he comes home, he finds me exhausted and frazzled.

Of course we’re both dieting, for different reasons, but getting the same result:  exhaustion and irritability.  Luckily we haven’t directed any of it at each other.  There just seems to be a general frustration looming over us is all.

Sometimes, like anyone, we can fall into a routine and “specialness” seems to get masked by everyday pressures. 

Last night we hosted fight night at our house—UFC rocks, btw, but I digress—and we had a house full of people and for a few hours we were just able to relax and have a good time.  Then later on, we cuddled up to one another in bed, both of us feeling a little vulnerable, a little “off.”  We just fell asleep like that, tangled up together and completely worn out.  It reminded me of how simply beautiful it is to know we’ve found each other in this big, bad world. 

There is a world of difference in how I feel entering this marriage with him compared to marrying my ex-husband.  In my own way, I loved my ex although he was never even capable of loving me (I was more of a second income arrangement to him, as he freely admitted before we even said the “D” word.)  Knowing I truly have a partner I am building a life with is such a comfort.  I think I fell in love with him even deeper last night.  I know this marriage will last a lifetime.  I can confidently walk down that aisle without a single doubt of our decision.

"My friends, we live in the greatest nation in the history of the world.
I hope you'll join with me as we try to change it." -- Barack Obama

A new friend of mine recently forwarded that little gem from the Messiah of Hope and Change, Barrack Obama.  I am still so completely bewildered why he has any following at all, other than we are staring at one of the most glaring examples of failure in our educational system in the history of this nation.  We are facing generations of people who know little to nothing about our Constitution, the principles our nation was founded from, the nature of economy, how government dependence is crippling us, or the fact that no one in this world owes us jack and we are not entitled to suck off America’s heaving bosom because we are too lazy to get off our asses and change our circumstances.  We are becoming a nation of victims and we have everything in the world going for us.

Barrack Obama admits while we live in the greatest nation in the history of the world, he wants to change it…with his empty ideas and vacuous notions of hope and change.  He’s a blatant hypocrite of the absolute worst kind, extends no apology and at best a feeble and somewhat retarded explanation.  Oh yeah, if his pastor and spiritual guide of 20 years hadn’t have retired when he did, oh yeah, Barrack would have left that church.  Huh?  What are you suffering from Mr. Obama, Helen Keller Disease?  What the fuck have you been doing in church for the last 20 years—doodling?—napping?

But for now we're on vacation, but you'll start seeing me around again. I won't be here to troll the waters for meat, but rather keeping in touch with my peeps. Ugh, peeps...I know. I couldn't resist the term. I blame it on him. He's been torturing me with Air Supply, Journey, and Styx via Sirius radio for days now. Just wait...when I drive, my revenge will be the gayest music known to mankind...Village People, Erasure, Boy George. The rule is, whomever drives gets to controll the satellite radio...and today we're off to Vegas, and that is MY town.

Kisses to everyone. I'll be back.

Changes

I’m experiencing a lot of changes lately…one of the major changes in my life has been my return to employment after quite a stretch out of the work force.  My body is still getting used to the grind…the 40+ hour work week and acclimating to the rush hour commute.  Whoosh, it’s been awhile.  I’m loving the stimulation of being back in the saddle again, but man…I am TIRED.  24 hours suddenly seems like waaaaaaay too few hours to get everything done I need to accomplish in a day.  I’m also working in a brand new field, and it’s a really exciting new journey for me.  This is not even to mention having some pocket change again.  

Another strange change I am experiencing, (although it’s one I’ve written about many times before,) is the strangeness and delight in my shift of perception with regards to this wonderful new relationship I’m in.  I was reminded of the shift just last night when he asked me what sort of things I would show him in Las Vegas.  We’ve been discussing a trip there this summer and being a former resident I mentioned I’d love to show him “my Vegas.”  One of the first sights I rattled off was the showing him the Red Rooster.  Now, for those who aren’t familiar with the place, the Rooster is one of the most well known swingers clubs in the nation.  I’ve spent some time there, and during that phase of my life, I quite enjoyed it.  However, almost as soon as it came out of my mouth, I said, “No, I really don’t want to show you that place.”  As fond as my memories are of that place, it was a different me…and I’m not that person anymore.  I don’t want to share, and I certainly don’t want to be shared.  Truthfully, I can’t even imagine not being absolutely monogamous with him.  I have no desire to be with other people, and I would be heart broken if he didn’t want only me.  But still…that change in myself still surprises me from time to time.

One of the more lighthearted changes in my life is the fact that even as I write this, I am alone at home and voluntarily watching an NFL game.  To some this might not be such a big deal, but I have never been a sports fan.  My father’s idea of introducing me to sports when I was a kid, was to take me canoeing or tell me about mountain climbing…but he never watched sports on television.   I’ve never even had a relationship with anyone who was a sports fan…well, until now.  Football is now part of my life every Sunday and Monday night.  (Go Chargers!)  He is a patient teacher, and I am learning the game.  I’m also developing hypertension because of it!  Well, not really, but I have taken to yelling at the television screen and grabbing my chest as a feeling of the cardiac wrenching grabs hold of me!  Tonight I am alone.  I could watch anything I want, yet I am watching the game, pacing the floor and wondering how I ever got roped into all this silliness.  

I’m getting used to all the changes.  Some are easier to assimilate to than others.  But change is the one sure thing you can count on in life…and that’s exactly what I’m learning to do.

Since I am unable to post links to my blog, I can not direct you to the youtube link of an NBC video clip of John Kerry giving us yet one more example of his gross disrespect of the men and women who serve in our country’s military.  The same military who has fought today and for generations past to ensure his freedom to be one of the biggest pimples on the ass of America. 

“You know education, if you make the most of it…you study hard and you do your homework and make an effort to be smart, you can do well.  If you don’t, you get stuck in Iraq.” 

I Used to Think


I used to think I wanted to be taken.  I think it stems from the indifference of my marriage and knowing I really never meant much to my ex-husband.  So, I went off the deep end, submerging, perhaps nearly drowning myself in this world of meeting men online for…well, I’m not sure what I was looking for.  Sometimes I met people because I was profoundly attracted to them as people and I wanted to wrap them around me like a silky mink coat.  Other times I was bored and they were available.  Sometimes I was lonely.  Still other encounters were about sticking my fingers in the light socket of life and feeling the charge of electricity pulse through my being.  Each encounter I made laid a brick on the path of my journey as a woman.  I have very few regrets, but I’d be lying if I wrote that I had none.  

It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted, and frankly, I don’t think I ever really knew what I wanted until suddenly I just found it quite accidentally.  

I used to think I wanted to be taken.  I wanted to be chosen, claimed, seized, pursued.  I thought I wanted the choice to be made for me. 

Then someone showed me his heart.  He said “I’m not ready for a committed relationship right now, but I really like you so let’s be friends.”  So, we were.  It wasn’t that the sexual element was removed from the equation, but our intention was the person instead of the orgasm.  Yeah, we chatted up sex a bit, but more of our exploration was about our favorite flavors of ice cream, what movies we liked, and how much we loved road trips.  It wasn’t all fluff, though.  Interspersed were some pretty significant life stresses, career pressures, personal traumas…but it was never about conquering or being conquered.

I would be lying if I wrote that there wasn’t any sexual tension before we met.  It sort of snuck up on me at the last minute, to be honest.  I was plenty wound up by the time we decided to meet, and I had every intention of fucking.  I’ll never forget the heat of July and having no air conditioning.  Our bodies were naked and wet from sweat…the fan on full power blowing air over a bowl of ice we put in front of it.  I remember realizing I was really hungry and being with him felt like nourishing my soul.  I think if you asked him, he’d tell you he felt very similarly.  I think he’d also tell you he wasn’t expecting us to connect in the way we did.  He wasn’t out to take me, to conquer me, to dominate me.  We just wanted to spend some time together.  Our relationship was a very natural evolution.

It’s never been about domination and submission.  It’s never been about being on my knees.  It’s never been about bringing me to tears.  It’s never been about rope, giant inflatable dildos, or the way his fist fits inside my twat.  Those things exist on a certain level, but what makes us work is so much simpler than that.  What it is about is Sundays on the sofa with my head in his lap while he gently strokes my hair and face between explosions of excitement during the afternoon’s football game.  What it is about is burying my face in his armpit and breathing in his scent in the early morning hours when the light of a new day is creeping through the window.  What it is about is the way he collapses on me right after an orgasm or the way my eyes roll into the back of my skull when he has me pinned down with his fingers inside of me reaching that spot I can never get to on my own.  What it is about is how he always remembers to thank me for making him dinner, or when he how he wipes away my tears after I spend a week with my mother who struggling with depression and chronic pain.  

I used to think I wanted to be taken.  What I realize now is that I really wanted to give myself to someone.  I wanted to stand before him, open up the iron gates to my heart and say “Here, this is for you.”

I held a human brain this weekend. 

No, that’s not a typo.  The Seattle Convention Center is currently hosting an exhibition of actual preserved human bodies, delicately and meticulously dissected, many in open displays and not encased in glass. (Since Collar Me won't allow me to post a link, you can google "The Bodies Exhibition" for further information if you are interested in attending.)  I’m a person who has blood and wound phobia, but it didn’t bother me in the least.  It was, in fact, one of the most fascinating exhibitions I have ever seen.  The dissections were truly amazing.  I can’t even imagine the time and technique and steady hands it must have taken to do this sort of delicate work.  The only part of the exhibition that was somewhat difficult for me was the fetal section.  While I did look at everything they had to see, it was a somber place I did not want to linger in for any longer than I had to.

With (most of) the skin pealed away from the bodies, it certainly makes one aware that as much as we are all so different from each other, we are also so very much alike.  We wake up, take a shower, get dressed, eat, go to work, bitch about rush hour traffic, buzz around all day doing our daily tasks, come home, go to sleep, and do it all again the very next day.  Rarely, except in times when we are compromised, do we ever consider how our bodies function and allow us to do all the things we take for granted.  The human body is truly a physiological miracle!  Even by purely biological functions we are miraculous, and this takes no considerations into the complexities and mysteries of intellect, creativity, or emotion.

So, I held a human brain.  There was a part of the exhibition where you were allowed to handle the body parts, although you were asked to refrain from handling the other exhibits, even though they were displayed in such a way that you could.   This was the first time I’d ever held such a thing, although the person I am intimately involved with handles human parts on a somewhat regular basis.  So while he reached right for it enthusiastically squealing “Oh cool, brains!”, I was a bit more cautious in touching it.  The process in which the bodies are preserved makes them sort of rubbery or waxy to the touch, so handling the human brain was not revolting in the least.  I think it was the idea of the brain that took me by surprise.  This brain was once alive.  It produced emotions, ideas, a personality; not to mention that it was the epicenter for every biological function of the body it once belonged to.  What dreams did that brain produce?  Did it like the scent of Jasmine in the springtime?  What did it think of chocolate or the state of world affairs?  Did it control eyes that looked lovingly at children, or dislike the sound of it’s mother-in-law’s voice?  Did it experience pain?  What made it cry, smile, cringe, or gasp?  

How much of us is biological and how much of us comes from something divine?  Why do I love cheddar cheese, pickle and ketchup sandwiches and he calls mayonnaise the white death?  Why does pain from my neck injury bring me to tears while I can endure his hand fisting my twat?  What made me once fall in love with running an 8 minute mile and now makes me cringe at the idea of reconditioning my body to run at all?  What made my ex-husband hear voices and feel rage as his only significant emotion?  What makes the man I am involved with now so level headed and sensitive to my every desire and need?  

We are all amazing in our own, unique ways.  Even those of us that are buttholes, and goodness knows there’s no shortage of them in this world.  Take just one moment today to appreciate your body, your heart, and your mind for all the miracles that we are!

The Big Picture

I used to think finding a Dom was the most important component in seeking out a new relationship.  I needed the strength, the anchor, the stability.  I still think I need those things, but one thing I’ve discovered about myself in recent months is that finding a Dom is secondary to finding someone sexually adventurous who quite simply adores me.   I can’t be an object anymore.  I can’t be an instrument of pleasure for another without that other satisfying my need to be touched, cherished, and (gasp) even loved.  

Most of the friends and acquaintances I’ve made from these kink sites know I am involved in a new relationship, but every once in awhile someone I haven’t had recent touch with sends me a catching me up on your life sort of email.  Almost inevitably I am asked if my new guy is a Dom.  This is an obvious question that I am not at all offended in responding to…after all, why should I be?  The truth is, I wouldn’t really consider him a Dom, although he is quite clearly the most dominant of the two of us.  One of my best friends calls relationships like this vanilla with a twist.

The truth is, unless an alien laid eggs in his brain and he suddenly began using completely unreasonable judgment in his decision making, I will generally defer to his final word.  If I express a desire that is very important to me, I know he will weigh it heavily in his decision.  It is extremely comforting to me to know he hears me when I need to express myself.  The only noticeable exception to this rule is I am the self declared Queen of the Kitchen and I do insist he eat his vegetables at dinner!

In our daily lives, he allows me to serve him and do things to make him happy.  But this is just as true in reverse.  We take care of each other in the ways we are each best at.  To be truthful, it’s nice on the occasions he leaps up from the table to refill my glass.  It’s a simple act that makes me feel special. 

Last night the sex was all about me.  That is still a challenge for me to get used to without feeling guilty about being “selfish.”  Before this relationship, being on the receiving end of oral sex was a very small part my sexual experiences.  Quite honestly, it made me a little sheepish having someone’s face in the most intimate part of my body.  I’m learning to get over that, though, and am more and more thankful that I am involved with someone with such a strong desire to turn me inside out with his tongue!  He has this magical way of taking me to that primal place where I forget about everything around me, I forget about how I look or the sounds I make. I just want to grab his ears and shove his face into my crotch.  I suppose that’s not a very submissive way to be, but who the fuck cares?  It just feels sooooooooo good.  Now, I just have to learn it’s actually okay to ask him to do this to me instead of just waiting until he offers to do this…so many lessons to learn!

Lifestyle, vanilla, slave, master, dominant, submissive…it all makes little difference to me in the big picture.  It’s all about the connection between two hearts in the way that works best for them.  I have found an amazing man to spend my life with, and he thinks I’m pretty nifty, too.  What works for us is that we’re both sexually adventurous, we both try to make the other feel appreciated, and we communicate honestly with each other.   

I received another call this morning from someone I was once very interested in becoming involved with.  Every few weeks he calls, and since his number is restricted I never answer it, so he ends up leaving me a message that it is urgent I get hold of him.  I usually am polite and respond by email.  I have kept him well informed of my current relationship and told him I am blissful and frankly, changed from the woman he knew me as.  While this particular man has all the makings of a talented Master, he has chosen to involve himself in a vanilla relationship and seeks to satisfy his need to dominate by keeping a slave on the side and seeing her a time or two a week, and to share her with his friends.  There may be women out there who find this situation appealing, but I am not one of them.  Admittedly, he did have a way of turning all my knobs and pushing all my buttons and I was, at one time, very interested in the fantasy of this man.  But in hindsight, especially now that I am in the relationship that I am, I realize that I could never be satisfied in a life like that.  It doesn’t mean that I am better now, I am just different.  

Nothing this man could offer me would dissuade me from the man I am involved with now.  So, maybe I’m not a real slave.  Maybe I recognize I have needs.  I need love, attention, compliments, surprises, affection, respect, a strong shoulder, ears that listen, lips that kiss me, to be part of a family, to create a family of my own, to be sexually satisfied, to be a part of someone’s life every day and not just when it’s convenient for him.  So the fuck what.  If having those needs and recognizing them, valuing them, and seeking out a relationship that satisfies them boots me out of the prestigious realm of being a slave, then so be it.  Maybe I need a healthy dose of vanilla mixed in with the bondage, gagging, cock slobbering, ass fucking, double and triple penetration, breast caning, flogging, and hair pulling needs I have as a submissive.  Yes, I have needs!  I’m proud of them!  They make me who I am.  And if any of you asked the man I am involved with, he’d tell you I’m an amazing woman.  There is no slave on the face of this planet that could compete with the depth of devotion, adoration, or even worship I have of him.  Am I a slave?  No, not really.  I would be for this man if he ever asked me, but he enjoys it when I express my desires, my opinions, and my needs.  I love this man, and I do feel as though we belong to each other.  There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him.  I can say that with 100% faith in backing it up because I already know he would never ask me to do anything against my beliefs.  

So, maybe I should demote myself from slave to submissive…it’s alright with me.

Sodomy and a Hallmark Moment

Yesterday my man returned after being gone for ten days. We tore at each other the moment we got home after I picked him up at the airport and we had the best sex we’ve ever had. It almost seemed as though we’d been starving for ten days and laid down to this bountiful feast of our flesh. About midway through round two, with his weight bearing down on top of me, face to face, his cock stroking in and out of my ass as if he were playing me like a violin, I looked deep into his eyes. I felt an intimacy like none other in my life. We were barely still two people at that moment. We were as close to one another as two bodies can be, and I fell even deeper in love with him.

The Final Solution


My last couple blog entries have complained a bit about solicitous emails from Doms who don't read my profile, but I've finally discovered the perfect come back to get rid of them in a hurry!  I just send them a return email with one simple line..

Can I borrow some money?

Bumps
 

A Return to Monogamy

I remember a time when I never considered any type of relationship other than monogamous.  Even in dating (when I was younger) it never even occurred to me to date more than one person at a time.  Then I got married.  Why a freckle-faced, curly redheaded firecracker like myself married a money obsessive uber-vanilla, a-sexual accountant is something I still don’t understand, but I did it.  Even before we actually got married, I had doubts of my fidelity, but it wasn’t until 2 years into our marriage when he’d already moved out of our marriage bed (not that anything interesting other than sleeping ever happened there anyways) that I walked into his bedroom, told him he no longer needed to consider fidelity between us necessary since we knew we would eventually divorce anyway.  Then I announced I was going out on a date.  The funny thing was that he was never upset that I was seeing other men; he just couldn’t believe anyone would actually want me.  We continued to live under the same roof in quite violent conditions until I finally left last Thanksgiving.  But that night launched me into the whole Wild Oats experience.

I didn’t start off intending to abandon monogamy, but I was experiencing what I have now begun calling my Emotional Holocaust.  I was starved for attention, affection, and down right filthy, sweaty, rough-housing SEX.  In retrospect, I think what I was starving for the most was actually love, but I was not ready to receive it yet.  My need to be satiated overwhelmed just one partner, so I began exploring the practice of dating more than one person at a time.  Still, I seemed insatiable…but what an adventure I had!  I met overwhelmingly wonderful people during this phase of my life, and I discovered a lot about myself.  The one thing I don’t harbor is feelings that I did anything wrong during my Wild Oats experience.  I did attempt monogamy a time or two during this period, but it was always at the insistence of my partner and truthfully it made me nervous when I took my irons out of the fire for very long.  I didn’t think I would ever be able to return to a life of fidelity with just one man. 

My solution to this dilemma (or so I thought) was taking a stab at poly amorous relationships.  I’ve never been wired for jealousy and the concept of loving more than one person in a family setting just seemed to make sense to me.  As much fun as girls are (and I do and have enjoyed them immensely), they didn’t come anywhere near to satisfying the overwhelming need I had for attention.  I think that’s why I never considered myself truly bisexual.  I always needed the emotional connection from men that I was never able to achieve with women.  However, with all that said, I always came into the poly amorous situation as a secondary partner, and it always exploded in my face with issues of being the object of the other woman’s jealousy or passive aggressive behavior.  I finally gave up and swore off that whole idea, at least as a secondary partner.  Truthfully, my need for attention probably would only be complicated in such an arrangement unless it was open and I could seek out partners outside of the family. 

My social experiences this calendar year have been largely disastrous, and I will be the first to admit this is due in a large part to my own mistakes.  When I left the metro areas of Sacramento and then later Portland, and moved to rural eastern Washington, my need for attention just seemed to amplify.  That need became something like a tumor on my soul.  I was once a highly independent person (before my marriage) and through a series of events—some stemming from poor life choices and many stemming from the circumstances of my violent and unhealthy marriage and the near fatal health issues I had—I developed into a very emotionally needy person.  And that just ain’t attractive, not to mention healthy.  It was a hard fact to face, though.  It was very difficult to see myself for what I’d truly become.  I was very lost, my internal compass having been destroyed long ago, and I had degenerated into losing my worth as a woman and a member of society. 

The irony of this entire experience of mine was that when I finally faced the truth that no one but me was going to save myself from this collision course I was on, the very thing I was craving seemed to fall from the sky like a heavenly rain on my desiccated spirit.  Love.  In my heart of hearts I believe God sent this angel to me knowing I would recognize his golden wings, and find my direction to become worthy of this gift.  This man I love never said to me Come to me and let me rescue you.  I think prior to him, I was seeking exactly that—to be rescued from myself.  It would be a complete fabrication to say this transformation in my spirit and the regeneration of my inner strength was solely an independent effort.  He did not save me, nor did I expect him to.  What he did was support me and help me unearth the tools that I always had within me (but had lost touch with long ago) so that I could help myself.  He reminded me of my worth.  He saw through the muck of my life and recognized the glitter underneath.  He has never demanded anything of me (other than my honesty) but he inspired me to demand more from myself.  He is not my Master.  He is my hero, my best friend, and I genuinely believe the last man I will ever fall in love with. 

So, how does this all tie in with monogamy?  I’m getting to that.  My abandonment and subsequent fear of monogamy, in my eyes, was a product of my need.  I lost sight of my own worth and capabilities.  Sex became something akin to a band-aid over a bullet wound.  What I really needed was to replenish my spirit, find my strength, and love myself.  Do I still need attention, affection, really hot sex, and emotional fulfillment?  Of course I do; I would not be who I am if I didn’t.  But that need no longer cripples me.  Someone finally saw my worth and reflected it back on me. 

This is not a one-sided relationship.  There is a synergy that exists between us and it has planted a magical garden in our hearts.  It has helped me trade in my lead weights for wings.  I can’t imagine ever loving another human being the way I love him.  It doesn’t matter if we’re making love or sitting on the sofa watching bad horror flicks, I know I am safe.  Not just physically safe, but safe to expose the most tender parts of my soul.  I am safe to be wounded or empowered in his presence. I am safe to be absolutely and authentically ME.

How could I ever want to with anyone else?  How could I not want monogamy with this man?  How could I ever want to return to a life with just fuck buddies?  To me, it would be like drinking the finest, most delicious red wine and then having to go back to red wine from a box.  No thanks.  I’m spoiled now, and I have no intention of going back.

I had forgotten what it feels like to be wanted and valued and appreciated until he reminded me.  I had forgotten what it felt like to have someone put my well being and safety and pleasure above his own until he reminded me.  I had forgotten what it felt like to have someone leap up from the dinner table to refill my drink just because he enjoys taking care of me until he reminded me.  I had forgotten what it was like to be asked silly questions like What’s your absolute favorite flavor of ice cream? for no other reason than he just wanted to know.  It’s funny how we forget such things and we plod along in life seeking what we are absolutely certain we want.  Then suddenly someone drops from the sky and reminds us of the subtle details of what it can feel like when two people just fit.

It seems like it’s been a really long time since I’ve been in a monogamous relationship without it coming from my partner who insisted on exclusivity.  I complied, but in the back of my mind I always was looking for something else, something more.  Then it came up in a conversation early in our union when he said to me Why would I look for someone else when I have everything I want with you?  Then it hit me. I felt totally satiated for the first time in I can’t remember how long.  Maybe ever. 

There’s a novel by Terry McMillan called Waiting to Exhale, which I think perfectly describes that sensation one has when they finally feel totally satisfied, comfortable, and safe in a relationship.  I don’t even think I knew I was waiting to exhale.  The idea of a healthy, passionate, emotionally quenching relationship had left me awhile ago.  That was a mysterious concept other people enjoyed, and even then not many other people.  I mean, my ex-husband married me not because he loved me (which he never did or perhaps was even capable of) but because it was easier to get by in the world with two professional incomes versus being single.  Gee, you’d never guess the guy was a CPA, would you?  

When we’re together, every morning when he’s in the shower, I take the dog out to go potty, clean the cats’ litter boxes, feed all the animals, and get him a morning snack ready to take on the road (since I have yet to get him to eat a healthy breakfast other than on the weekends.)  He’s not used to someone doing that for him. He told me he never wanted me to feel taken for granted, and it nearly made giggle because no one had ever said that to me before.  When I’m here, I’m home most of the day (busy applying for jobs, mind you, certainly not loafing around!) I can’t imagine not doing some of the menial chores that need to get done.  Or I’d be taking him for granted! It’s just funny…little things like the attention we give to each other to communicate our appreciation for what the other brings to the table.  Two people coming together, starving for affection and an emotional connection, not to mention sex…I’m beginning to feel like every day is Christmas!  I can’t begin to describe how happy I am just being.  Or what a difference it has made in my motivation, my direction, and my confidence…like I wrote in a previous blog, nothing in my life has changed but him, yet my outlook and hope and belief in myself is completely altered.

 I am just so happy.  I had forgotten what it was like to feel this way.