Kitten’s Mewlings

Go ahead and blame me, I’m used to it. She wanted to have the talk, you demanded that we talk, and once we do, the end result is all my fault.

I’m a cold heartless bitch. What else can I be?

My only words to her were a request for the affectionate displays in front of me to be cut back and to "keep in mind, that one day the physical portion of your relationship must end." I told her I don’t mind if you two are friends or if you two hang out, but to please try to cut back on that one thing in front of me and not to forget the other.

What I want to know is where did she get the idea that it would go on forever? "I know you two are talking about marriage and kids, but that won’t change anything." That sounds oddly familiar to your statement that the only way it would stop would be if we moved. When I told you that hurt, you claimed to have never said those words - then you said that if you had said them, you didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Right now, it seems to me that the two of you had similar ideas of about my relationship with you.

Her response to me telling her the above two requests was tears. Her tears were accompanied by words claiming that I didn’t think of your feelings in all of this. "Well, it wasn’t supposed to be a forever thing from the beginning. It wasn’t even supposed to be more than a few weeks."  "I know that, but I can’t help it if we fell in love, if we developed feelings for each other." Cue the stab to the heart.

Though I felt betrayed, I did not push her to end things with you. Blame me for my little statement if you want. It’s nothing new, everything is my fault. It’s always my fault.

When she asked how I thought you would feel if the two of you ended things, I told her the truth - "I don’t know how he would feel, but it’s not like it’s the end of the world because it would just be the end of the physical fun. You two could still be friends and hang out, just nothing extra." "It would make him unhappy and upset. If he asks me to leave, then I will leave." "If it makes him happier to be with you, then I will leave. I will leave the two of you to it. I can’t and I won’t share him forever." A hard solution, but a solution I could live with. She called it harsh, the words "cold heartless bitch" were never said, but they were implied. Maybe that’s true, I mean, it is all my fault, isn’t it?

I don’t want her actions and lack of willingness to deal with my statements to affect us. If you lost a friend, it was not because I told her to keep in mind that one day the friends-with-benefits would end. I agreed with her that we could be great friends, I thought of her as a friend-in-the-making, we just needed to hang out a little more to learn each other’s quirks. But apparently what I said affected her too greatly to continue with you. I can apologize from now until forever, but you won’t listen. You will continue to blame me for her response. And why shouldn’t you? It’s all my fault. It will always be all my fault.

I love you. I agreed to a threesome as a way to spice things up. You seemed to really want it, and I wanted to see you happy. I’m sorry that I said yes. This is where I went wrong, because if I had never said yes, you would not be hurting right now. The two of you would still be friends, I would not have been swayed back into another man’s bed, and everything we fight about, all the answers you demand that I don’t have, would never have come to pass. I truly am sorry. You are right - it really is all my fault.

And forgive me for wanting to be selfish for once. I didn’t know it was such a crime to want to have the husband and kids without the mistress-claiming-to-be-the-unseen-girlfriend along for the ride. "Why should it bother you? You have everything: you get to live with him, you two will be married, you will have his children; I don’t get any of that. Hell, he won’t even tell his parents about me!" Isn’t that what friends-with-benefits is? A temporary thing? If you two truly did fall in love and you can’t live with being friends without the benefits, then by all means, enjoy the fun. I won’t stop you. I will require it to stop in the event that we do get married. If you refuse this one request, if you still want to keep your friend, all benefits included, then I will leave you to it.

Triple Tryst
Two on one are not fair odds,
But this is not a fight -
It is a dance.
A triple person tango,
Wrapped in black silk and lace,
One and one and one,
Tangled sensually, bound by touch.

Mouths lock on skin,
Teeth nip at flesh,
Fingers clasp, nails dig in.
Three become one,
Inseparable in the night.
One claims two,
Two claim one.

~by me

Recently I have been having issues with my current relationship. Not bad issues, no, we do not argue, we do not fight, we are not in danger of breaking up. Then what kind of issues you ask? Well, see, there is this other woman….

Every party and dinner I host, I have at least one person tell me, out of earshot of the rest of the guests, that one woman in particular is looking at my man with eyes that should only be reserved for the one dating him. I play naive and ask what they think I should do, how I should approach the issue, and listen intently to their advice. Oh how little they know….

You see, this other woman has become a fun component in my solid relationship with Big Ed. From my point of view, she has earned the right to look at him that way.

It started with small glances. She would come visit late hours, after her children were placated and fed, and she would stay until the early morning. Drinks would be mixed, and while I would usually go to bed around ten or eleven, she and my boyfriend would stay up watching random BBC shows, talk about the joys of working in different buildings and departments at the same company, and whatnot. She was worried at first about pissing me off; pillows would always be piled between her and him on the couch, even when I was in the room, creating a small wall that would seem endless with the more she drank.

Then one night, I somehow managed to stay awake until after she left. That was the night she had enough liquor in her system to get up the nerve to ask me if she could borrow him. She is divorced, her oldest of two daughters is a year younger than I, she has one unsteady (read: barely there) fuck-buddy, and has had no release in weeks. I giggled and let her know I’d think about it. If only she knew what thoughts had been going through my head all night!

You see, I have had the pleasure of being the center of attention in a three-way, where I was the only female, but never have I had the pleasure of joining alongside another woman in an attempt to spoil my boyfriend. She elicited such thoughts in my head, but it was not in me to admit to this quite yet. I played it out, teasing and taunting my boyfriend with thoughts of what could happen. When he pushed a date one night after work, I hesitatingly agreed. This, from me at least, is normal - I need a little nudge now and then, and especially with this. I was excited. I was nervous. My nerves overrode the excitement. A little vodka can do wonders to calm nerves. And an exhibitionist boyfriend can help a lot as well.

The first time was incredible. The quickie that it was (she had a deadline to go pick up her daughter from a volleyball game) started before she arrived. I needed something to do to help the vodka get my mind off the nerves, so Big Ed, sitting in his over sized, nearly love-seat sized chair, with his legs up on the massive ottoman) pulled me on top of him. I was still fully clothed, he was still in his workout shorts and tank. He ran his hands through my hair, whispering reassurances to me, kissing me gently, and asking again if I was sure about this. I cracked a joke (a bad habit I picked up from my ex) and made mention of the last time I was part of an attempt at this kind of thing (the girlfriend freaked out and yelled and cried hysterically). I brought up a point he had not thought of, and it sobered him up a bit, made him nervous for a change. It was my turn to calm him down - Had I ever freaked out over anything? Have I ever given cause to think I may be that fragile? More kisses followed, and soon the bra had to come out from under the shirt. The first orgasm of many was the next thing on the list. Big Ed enjoys the fact that he can get me off so easily.

Not even five minutes later, while I was still atop Big Ed, straddling and kissing, the lady in question knocked on the door. We shall call her Willow - it is such a pretty name and bears no resemblance to the real name, but does bear a striking resemblance to her body type: tall and thin and graceful (though realistically she is quite prone to accidents and spills…not really all that graceful…like me!). I was recovering from my orgasm, so Big Ed said hello and prompted me to do the same. Big Ed is such a playful guy, he really helped break any tension by getting straight to the point, "Willow, she’s already one up on you! Would you like to even the score?" I rolled off, sat on the floor, and let her straddle him and come the same way I had.

I had not told him of the rules. I had parameters set in my head, but had not been able to sort through them, and when he had asked before, I simply told him that I would be clear if something was about to happen that I did not want happening. This left a lot open to his imagination and bought me time to sort through how far I was willing to let this go. Seemed fair to me.

Once we were all comfortable and us ladies had been relaxed a little at the hands of Big Ed, Willow and I traded off straddling him and rubbing his back with our bare chests.

Oh dear, I seemed to have skipped a space! In the course of swapping positions, Big Ed coaxed me out of my shirt, and Willow followed lead. While I, still in jeans, rode his still covered cock, Willow crawled up behind him and started rubbing his back and head with her nails. We both decided he should join us, and there we sat, all three of us topless. There, we are now back on track!

There was much timid exploring on my part, but with Willow’s ‘out there’ attitude, her explorations were much more demanding. For one on the outside, it would not appear this was her first time as well, would it?

Time draws fuzzy at this point. How long we swapped places, getting off, and teasing Big Ed…It could not have been long, but it was quite a few orgasms for both of us.

Willow and I then decided it was his turn, to which he objected. It seems he was having more than enough fun seeing us squirm and get off. We promised not to be gentle, but only if he would take his shorts off. I let Willow get acquainted with her new toy while I leaned up and kissed my boyfriend. Oh the look in his eyes!

She and I switched every few minutes, varying the techniques, speeds, pressures, sensations. We weren’t aiming to get him off quite yet, we wanted to drag out as much pleasure as possible in our limited time slot.

Willow’s daughter called, breaking the moment. Not too much of a break, though. We were then coaxed out of our jeans and panties and instructed to sit side-by-side on the couch. To be honest, I’m not a big fan of cunnilingus; it has more to do with not really being used to it because my ex, a boyfriend of nearly four years, refused to do it. Big Ed is slowly working me over and helping me, mainly because it is one of his most favorite acts. And here he had two women, very very wet, propped up on the couch in front of him - what more could he ask for?

Willow is a dry crier. When she comes, she whimpers, curls, and makes short crying sounds. Compared to my violent screaming spasms, I am sure Big Ed preferred going down on her. She had quite a questioning look on her face when he switched from her to me. With her, his face was buried and both his hands were traveling between me and her breasts, but when he moved over to me, both his arms were circling my thighs. Why, might you ask? Did you not read "violent screaming spasms"? On various occasions I have nearly suffocated him, and once, very nearly snapped his neck. I may be small and compact, but I have thighs of steel. Hearing the explanation, Willow smiled knowingly and once he started, she let her hands and mouth wander for him. After a few small orgasms, Big Ed was not satisfied, and began biting on my inner thighs. I have never had a more explosive orgasm! I vaguely remember almost nothing other than the swirling colors that overtook the room.

When I came to, my legs were quite weak. So weak, they wouldn’t move. That signals a wonderful time has been had. I was asked if it would be alright for him to actually fuck her. Little did they know I had already imagined that and the thought excited me quite a bit. While still limply lying on the couch, I watched her climb atop him in his chair. I love my uber comfy furniture! Every piece is just big enough to be a small bed! Big Ed, however, had drooped a little while working us over. I was asked if I could move just enough to come over and help him up. Have you ever tried crawling across a room when your legs are very nearly nonexistent? It seemed to take forever! But the reward at the end of the long journey…!

I love sucking cock. I will get that out in the open right now. I’m not very good at it (at least I think so), but I love it, and I firmly believe that until my experience and expertise increases, my love and joy and enthusiasm will help hide a few of my faults. And sometimes, it helps to have a small-ish mouth. With my mouth, tongue, and fingernails at work, and with Willow getting off on his hand while kissing her, it didn’t take too long to get a rise out of him. I was a little reluctant to move, but when I did, I only went so far as the arm of the chair. Mmmm, I had a great view of her face, his face, and I could drag my nails up and down his chest. She enjoyed a few wonderful orgasms (and the back cushion on the chair shows it with new creases where her hands balled into fists). After she was well taken care of, and after another few missed phone calls, and after a quick glance at a watch, it was decided it was time for the treat.

I like to think of myself as a great hostess. And as hostess for the evening, I had already promised Willow the chance to swallow Big Ed’s load, should she want to. She was shocked but readily accepted. The only problem was, Big Ed had gone a little limp again, seems disuse had gotten the better of him again (she had gotten up to walk across the room to get her phone, again). Big Ed never has such a problem, so I threw the explanation under nerves. Yes he had two beautiful women at his disposal, but I’m sure he was just waiting for me to freak out, and he may have also been dreading the minutes to hours after Willow left - he does not like it when women friends in his life do not like each other, and I am quite sure he was worried about how I would feel afterwards.

I was asked to wake him up again while Willow looked around the room for her clothes. I have never tasted anyone on my boyfriend’s cock except me, so I was curious how I would react; would I love it? Would I hate it? Would I freak out? OMG she was sweet! I cannot describe how sweet! It was like sucking down a hunk of sausage that had been dipped in a tropical syrup that had been mixed with a lot of powdered sugar, but still even sweeter than that! Again, I was reluctant to move, but shifted out of the way only after she had her clothes on and I had licked her juices clean off of him. Big Ed then took over, pumping himself to orgasm, with her mouth hovering over his hand, anticipating the treat, while her hands drug her nails up his thighs, while my mouth locked on his neck, and while my nails raked across his chest.

It was almost too much for him. He orgasmed, but he did not come. It was a long orgasm, almost as long as mine or Willow’s. A dazed and heavenly look overtook his face, his entire body pulsed and convulsed. Willow and I simply smiled at him, happy to have worked him over. I was a little disappointed Willow had not gotten her treat, so was Big Ed - when he could talk without stuttering again. She kept saying not to worry about it, but I am sure she was disappointed at least a little, too.

We all kissed and said our goodbyes, her all dressed, grabbing her phone and purse, while Big Ed and I still sprawled naked on the chair. Big Ed pulled me to him, softly kissed me, and told me again how I had earned massive good girlfriend points, putting me at or above "greatest girlfriend ever". I curled into him, rested my head on his shoulders, and purred. It may have been a silent purr, audible only to my own mind, but it was a purr nonetheless! Again, he voiced his concern for not giving Willow the treat she deserved, to which I replied: "Don’t worry about it. She’ll get it next time."

{} SubmissiveKitten {}

At my age, most people are finishing college, maybe dating between party hook-ups, and holding quite an unsteady temp job.

Or they are working full time, not caring about school, enjoying their weekends with millions of friends, living the single life or shacked up with their unmarried significant other.

Or they are like all of my close friends: community college flunkies, getting knocked up, getting married but still living at home with mom, working odd night-time jobs, scrounging up every last penny, but completely <em>happy</em>.

Which leaves me where? Sitting at home, working full time to afford to attend night, weekend, and online courses at the local community college, renting a small house with my boyfriend, literally miles away from everyone I know, taking care of two cats…I have everything my friends are lacking - the house, the job, the security of the two combined - while they have everything I want - the joy, the husband, the close family, the children…the garanteed future.

I know life isn’t fair. But…does it have to be rubbed it in my face?

Dreams. That is where the future begins. Without dreams, there is no ambition to move forward, to excel, to create, in essence there is no future.

As children, people dream of what could be, what might be, and on some subconscious level, plan how to achieve the possibilities floating in their minds. As the children grow up, some dreams are realized solely as dreams, fantasy, while others are known to be physical truths to be one day touched. When children become young adults, the future seems endless, realities just out of reach. Some dreams become entangled between multiple people, companies are formed, partnerships make money and products easily accessible to many, and couples come together for a shared dream. Other dreams hit roadblocks, walls, and barriers, sometimes crushed underneath another person’s demanding fist of power, or set aside to allow another safe passage alongside. It is conceivable the day people stop dreaming is the day they stop living.

I have written before of my dreams of becoming a loving mother, devoted wife, and dedicated employee. This dream is still with me, though it saddens me to see so much going right for others and having to constantly stop my day to congratulate another on stepping stones and even milestones of their dreams becoming a reality while I am stumbling over a blade of grass on my way to my next stone.

Ignoring the age factor, although that does play a small role in my sadness, I figured that by now I’d be at the very least happily engaged. I honestly do not like the fact that my dreams depend on another person’s dreams, but sometimes, that is how life is. With my ex, I was happy. It was plausible that we could have taken our relationship anywhere. However, when presented with a chance to change things for the better, I suggested moving in together, and suddenly my life was crushed. It seems that although we had spent four years together, he was quite uncomfortable with our relationship being taken to a higher level. He did not know when he would be comfortable with such an action, and we parted ways. Four years of a dream crushed and I was forced to start anew. Then I met TJ. It was all just a romp in the hay; he was not the settling-down type. I was sad to part ways with him, I try to keep in touch; even though he is completely wrong for me, he is fun to hang out with. But parting ways with him landed me in the arms of Big Ed.

Big Ed is recently divorced. I am fine with this. He doesn’t want to rush into things. I completely understand. He wants children, just not right now. I agree.

So why am I having issues with our relationship as it stands right now? Because I am beginning to fear that he will string me along and allow our relationship to coast rather than move forward. Quite honestly, I’m tired of hearing "it’s possible" and the like. Forgive me for sounding like a spoiled child but, I want it NOW! Seriously, though, I know these things take time. I would prefer, however, to not allow my hopes up too high with "it’s possible" only to have them crushed in the future with some lame excuse. I understand men are men and I understand that a man could get accustomed to the sex. I am not deluding myself, in fact I firmly believe that is what happened with my ex. I do not fear this of Big Ed, but there are times when I wonder if he is not ready to move beyond where we are.

It was quite a step from having me move in to us renting an actual house together. Then there was the purchasing of objects that will need custody disputes in the event we split up - a complete living room set, a complete bedroom set, and a complete home theater system. What else says "I plan to keep you around" better than going into debt with another person? It makes a great joke, but in all seriousness, this is a big step, a small stepping stone, perhaps, in reaching the end of my seemingly elusive dream.

A coworker has recently admitted to us his girlfriend and her child. They are adorable together, really, but they have been together only a few months and he is purchasing a promise ring - a symbol of a promise to do no wrong and signifies they will, one day, quite possibly be engaged. Some couples are like that; they meet and there is an instant inseparable quality to their relationship. It hurts to see these real life "love at first sight" kind of relationships. They are a depressing reminder that some of us either had that and did not know it and/or lost it or that we may never have that chance. This is not a bash against the lucky, it is simply a depressed sigh of envy.

That is what I want. I want to have the kind of relationship that you see in movies; the laughing and rolling in the grass on a bright sunny day, picnicking in the park, skipping stones on the water, photographing random moments, tickle fights, playfully wrestling around on the floor over the remote, earth-shattering love making, candle-lit dinners, holding hands walking down the street, falling asleep in each others arms on the couch, losing time looking in each other’s eyes, carefree kind of relationship. Call me a romantic, it’s true. And quite depressing when slapped with reality.

I enjoy my time with Big Ed. It’s wonderful - aside from the times he chooses to bring my young age into the mix. He claims our being 10years apart does not bother him, but it does. I can see it, even if he cannot. I understand wanting to be with each other for a few years before allowing yourself to contemplate proposing, but waiting until your partner is a certain age? There are times I want to just scream and walk out. But where would that get me? Right back into a world of hurt and wondering how much of a wonderful thing I have thrown away - again.

But looking from the other side of the window, I can understand how, even subconsciously, having a partner at a certain age can affect decisions. Honestly, I can’t. Every example I come up with negates the opening of this paragraph. All equations point to shallow men. My apologies for wasting your time with these sentences.

Big Ed and I joke and dance around the age issue. I find nothing wrong with it; Hell, my parents are 10years apart, but that is nothing when compared to my step-sister’s grandparents - who were 25years apart! Maybe I am simply all wrong and Big Ed, even at his age, is not mature enough to handle such an "issue" in a relationship. Again, this lands me right back at square one.

I cannot talk with him about this, because, as I have said, this is a subconscious happening on his part, and though he will not deny that it is possible, he pushes the subject aside.

I must admit that this is not our only problem, we do argue, but a healthy couple does argue; however what sets a healthy couple apart is the way the argument is handled, how the issue is resolved, and how willing each partner is to compromise. Looking at it this way, a relationship contains a portion of politicking, putting a person’s people-skills to the test. But that is life.

And that is also why I fear I may never have that Hollywood-produced "Heaven-on-Earth" relationship. Who wants to be with someone they agree one hundred percent with, anyway? Does not a high divorce-rate stem from couples becoming bored from having a partner that is too predictable? This endangers the dream of being the forever-married and loving wife, does it not?

 Shattered dreams, where does that leave us? If dreams are the future, what is left when the future is destroyed?

There is no cure for the common male, is there?

Somehow I have landed one so screwed up, it’s not even funny anymore.

He’s "in a funk" and depressed. He sits and he mopes or sits and stares. I can’t do enough to cheer him up. He does get this sad sort of smile on his face and pulls me into a hug, or pets my head, and tells me "even in a funk, I can still love on you," but it still sounds forced. He’s trying too hard to tell me that I’m not at fault for his ‘funk’ and trying a tad too hard to tell me he’s sorry if I feel left out or lonely.

Of course I feel lonely! He’s off learning to be a pilot after work 3 nights a week! Those 3 nights he doesn’t get home until AFTER I have burried my face so far under the covers, I pass out from lack of oxygen! That’s HOURS of boredom (from lack of friends in the area) that I endure so that when he IS home, we can make the best of it. But now? There isn’t even that! He’s in his ‘funk’ right now.

He tries not to show it, but he can’t stand to be touched; he’s tenser when I try to rub his shoulders than he was beforehand, when I sat on the couch.

I can understand a lot, but a depression like this? Dude, please, for my sake, see someone! I can’t stand it for much longer, and if only you knew I was looking for my own apartment, too? What would you do? Would that ‘funk’ get worse? Or would you suddenly become less secretive, less paranoid, less mental, and rebound back to yourself?

What’s the best birthday gift for an 8yo "grown up" girl?

Simple: "Lots of things."

With criteria like that, shopping should be a snap. Right?

**EDIT**
In searching for a gift, I found something I want.

So far, all I’ve found is a UK version, which is, from what I’m told, not compatible with my dvd player…*sigh*…It was an 8-disc collection of all 11 movies and all possible sing-alongs. All I really care about is the first, the original Land Before Time, the only one that really matters.

Yea, I’m a kid at heart, but considering that was MY movie growing up….

If anyone can help me find a version that will play on my dvd player….I would be soooo grateful!

Oh, and any DVD’s of Dink, too. I was/am a sucker for dinosaur movies…

****edit:
my dvd player plays dvd’s region-rated "1" and "all"…does that include "multi"? Cuz that’s what that dvd set is rated…… (yes, this is one of the few times you’ll see me ask "dumb" questions. shuttup)

This weekend was Serenity’s Coming Home Party. She came home Tuesday, but the relatives showed and fawned Saturday, then she went out for the first time and visited my Aunt in Dallas for Sunday BBQ.

None of her father’s relatives, just the sane group known as my side.

I convinced Big Ed to show up with me to the BBQ. We were late, had to wait for his happy ass to jump in the shower. So we arrived about ten minutes before my folks split. The only reason they hadn’t already left was because LittleOne had stayed the night with me and they had to pick her up.

My Aunt is a hoot. Ya catch her at the right time…. Let’s just say she was wild before she married, I’ve heard stories, and she’s trying to reach out to me when no one is looking.

One comment she made before we left still kinda sticking to me. She told me she’s glad to’ve met Big Ed, says she’s never seen me with a man before. And considering she’s seen me with my ex, who is now enjoying a new pastime, I agree with her.

….I’m begging you….

Go congratulate Big Ed so he will calm down; he sounds like an excited cheerleader upped on sugarpills and beer at a taping of girls gone wild.

Thank you.

Wednesday was terrible.

All I will say is that we had a great guy quit because of all the shit thrown at us drafters.

Actually, it was a bunch of shit thrown at me and him. Not that kinda shit, rumors like that fly about all the employees at least once. It’s a thrill when they turn out to be right (meaning the people get irritated and complain; innocent people just don’t do that). No, it was rediculous shit involving every single supervisor above me, including the president of the company himself. This guy quit just before the public ass chewing, which I had to endure alone. Fun, no?

I was even trying to have a good day, too; I mean, I was doing my best to feel sexy, which meant I was actually wearing eyeliner and lipstick (that’s how you know I’m really not feeling like I look good…I pull out the lipstick). I was also wearing my white shirt. Yup, the lovely little top that I love. Along with my collar and the bunny

Yup yup. I think that is the ONLY thing I like about this place; they let you dress in your own style, so long as it’s not insanely immodest or overly obscene. Me? I only have the collar and the bunny. And my shirts. There’s this other guy…yikes…that’s all I’m gonna say.

This weekend was full of events AND posts.

Please feel free to catch up:

Friday: Diamonds

Saturday: Thoughts

Sunday: Serenity Leigh

I am disappointed.
I am envious.
I am hurt.
I am jealous.
But most of all, I am proud.

I am disappointed in your choices so far, envious of the new life you have created, hurt by your pushing me away, jealous of the family you have now started, and proud to be your sister. Never, not in my wildest dreams, would I have ever expected you to be fearless going into battle, and not even cringe when the contractions went from many so close to one continuous spasm.

Even after 30+ hrs of lack of sleep, I am not easily impressed, but you have done so. And she is gorgeous, although she more resembles her father than you, she has your toes (giggle). She has potential, I hope you rear her well.

Yes, folks, my sister had the baby. She had basically continuous contractions since roughly Saturday about 5pm, and when they got rather constant, and about four minutes apart, they left to the hospital…at 11:30pm. They checked in just as I was calling–I figured something was up and wanted to know if all was ok. 40minutes later I was pulling into the parkinglot (40minute drive from my apt to the hospital while doing 80 down the highway and getting lucky and falling in behind a cop doing 70 in a 50…). While she slept fitfully from a muscle relaxer, I huddled in the room’s unpadded wood glider, my mom stuffed herself in the pukey-floral half-couch, and the daddy lay fast asleep on a quickly assembled cot (after my mom and I basically pushed him away from my sister). I couldn’t sleep, I sat and listened to the baby’s heartbeat on the moniter and watched the machine graph her contractions. That is kinda lulling, but every time I was even remotely close to passing out, the heart-rate would change or there would be some beeping from the machine (like….ran out of paper….gawd that was loud!). The nurse checked in every hour, checked her dialation every two, and at four, they booked her and checked her into the hospital…originally they figured she’d be out and home in an hour or so, but after nothing but continuous contractions and another slight change in dialation….

She eventually caved and had the epideral. Not because it hurt so much, but because the pain was so constant that she couldn’t sit still, she was squirming and the pain-stuff they’d pumped her with didn’t do a damn thing…and basically she was maxed out on the stuff. Oh how she slept! The daddy used that time to retreat and call up friends and family.

OH! My new in-laws…..oooooooooohhhhhhhh boy! Yikes. Let’s say white-trash, plus plastic surgery, plus a diva complex, plus sick drunken stories. THAT was the waiting room before we called into the delivery room to listen in. *Shiver* I think I’m going to refuse any invitiations to that side of the family reunion….sorry sis, but DAMN!

But I should get back, no? By two in the afternoon, she’s barely dialated, but fully efaced, or so the nurse says. To hell with it, I have a 45minute drive (meaning I won’t be flying at 80 down the highway home) ahead of me and I’ve been awake since roughly 7 or so the day before. Sure I’ve pulled all-nighters before, but given that the last one was with the aid of a fianced couple, 1/2 bottle Jack, and 1/3 bottle vodka (all me), I wasn’t lasting quite so well this time around. If I got any sleep at all, it was in 5min incremants that can’t be called sleep. So I made up my mind; either the baby would be here soon and I could go home guilt free, or I’d leave at 4pm no matter what and see the baby Monday after work.

I left at 3:15pm for a 5minute run to Braum’s just down the road, she’s sitting at 6 and just waking up to be checked again. I get back about 3:20pm or so and get a phone call as I’m walking to the elevator "We’re getting ready to push!" Whaaaaa–???!!!??!!!!

At 3:48pm, Serenity Leigh officially joined the world. She was barely bigger than I was when I was born! But she weighed a few ounces less. 6lbs, 10oz, 19 3/4" long. She has her daddy’s hair style and color, daddy’s chin, daddy’s upper lip, mama’s amount of hair, mama’s nose, and mama’s toes. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, not with a million people milling about. Serenity is the only one to see my tears as I welcomed her to this world and talked to her. Hugging the daddy gave me an excuse to hide my face long enough for them to fade, and then I hugged everyone and left. I’m an aunt again! And my mother is now officially a grandmother, and this time not by a step-daughter.

I find myself somewhat depressed a lot of the time lately.

I’ve put it off as work getting under my skin, even though I know that’s a lie.

Truth is, I haven’t really understood why I’ve been feeling this way.

Weekends I have the mornings to myself while Big Ed sleeps; he plops into bed at some point between midnight and six in the morning, the time I’m sleeping. This morning I sat at the computer and retouched a photoshop piece I did last night, and began on another. I’ve got a spontaneous urge to create; not to write, but to create. Completely unlike me, yes. But while I was working, I thought. Thinking, for me, can be dangerous, have we not learned this lesson before?

I firmly believe that had I not been moved to the big city, I’d still be quite an innocent country girl, most likely never been kissed, and working a small time job at the Tastey Freeze between classes at Seminole Jr College (since been redubbed an actual college, I believe). How different would life be compared to now? A whole hell of a lot, yet not much.

I realized that I’m not mentally healthy. What? How? Well, before certain things happened, I was one of the most friendly girls around, but not in that way, and I’d let people walk all over my niceness. Now, I’m slightly hostile to other women and highly suspicious of every male I run into. It’s become a subconscious habit; I exude an air of hatred to other women, more so when I feel them a threat, and I treat every male as if he’s a future attacker, simply biding his time until the time is right. I know this isn’t right, but it’s something I’ve noticed. And it’s something I don’t know how to fix, or if it’s even possible.

I also took the time to sit and think about my recent funk. I can hide it easily enough, but sooner or later Big Ed will learn the signs and signals of me hiding in my shell. Trust me, it’s not something I’m proud of that I have learned to hide inside myself. I sat and analyzed my mood while I searched through music on MySpace mindlessly. My conclusion: that inner part of me that wants a family is torn to bits because my teenage younger sister is already married and has a baby due any minute now. I know its rediculous, but it’s something I can’t help. That part of me does settle down when I stand in the doorway and watch Big Ed sleep; it hushes and hums and purs because he’s mine, and that eventually something may come of it. It’s simply the possibility.

Oh, and guess what I was told Friday: I’m too faithful. Apparently that because I’m not married, I should be open to the idea of multiple boyfriends and/or partners. How does this logic work? Someone tell me. I honestly don’t understand that view on relationships.

I’ve gotten diamonds as gifts before.

But always from relatives.

Or that one ring from C. The truce ring. That fucking thing.

Well, C basically ruined my ideal of a diamond from a boyfriend. Shattered.

But I’ve never gotten diamonds from a coworker before….

…Married, with little girls, and yet he gives me diamonds….

Not sure if they’re real, off to get them authenticated and appraised this weekend.

WHY did I get such a gift from a coworker? For being me. *shrug* Whatever that means… Well, considering he’s one of a few that stumbled here all on his own, and the pictures he’s seen, stories he’s read, maybe that’s what he means?

He showed up today at my desk during break. He had a small container holding a handful of diamonds his grandfather had given him sooooo long ago. He doesn’t know what to do with them; plans for setting a bunch into a shiny ring for his wife, but the rest…. He says I deserve a few. I turned down the largest (if real, possibly 2carats) and opted for two pin-drops and a small marquise. At the very least, I could make myself a pretty little ring *shrug*

If you care to notice, I’ve been sprucing the place up a bit here and there. My mile-long link list is steadily getting groomed and there’s a new little "profile" in the "profile-section".

Aside from that and being dangerously dizzy and ill from the medications said to cure my throat, I’ve been sleeping. Yup. Call me up and you wake me. Not something smart.

Well, when I’m up, I’m running around in as little clothing as possible. I’m rather in tune with my anscestrial ways and prefer bare feet and minimal cloth. Afterall, it *is* summer in Texas; skimpy is the norm. Right? Or am I the only one?

Well, since I’m rather top heavy, I do need *some* support. I can’t ALWAYS run nude around the apartment (but I try). So today’s HNT is a sight you’d see if you could see me typing this post right now. A wonderful sight with a subtle shot at my bra. (that would be the top of the right breast as viewed from the left side…got that?)

And no, I did nothing funny with the angle of the camera or photo. That is taken exactly perfectly horizontal.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am off to sleep off this horrendous headache, plot my doctor’s demise and wish I were born a male.

It’s a sad day when a little girl asks you to sell her puppy.

Well, my little sister is wanting to get rid of Savannah, her 4 month old pup.

We were told she would be 1/2 golden retriever and 1/2 blue heeler, but we were lied to. She’s at the very least a german shephard mix.

She’s too much of a puppy. She’s too dominant over my little sister and she’s too playful for my dad’s patience. So, she must go.

Sad, yes.

She’s a gorgeous pup. She just needs a little obedience schooling and lots of love. Maybe another pup to play with? She tries to play with my mother’s cat (who hates all other animals) and she chases birds and tries to catch them mid-air.

She’s addicted to the pool. She tries to ride on floaties, but when they are removed, she bites them. We’re trying to fix this. She also doesn’t like when people swim underwater in the pool; her instincts are to bark and to try to pull the swimmer out of the water. Not a bad instinct, but it makes it rather difficult to swim with her around.

She’s had her first set of shots, overdue on her second (will have them soon).

Our vet refuses to fix her until she’s older.

Quirks:
- I’ve already mentioned the pool, right?
- She collects sticks. When she was allowed free reign in and out of the house, she brought sticks in and hid them under the couch. Even tried a log from the fire-bin outside.
- She did carry a blanket with her everywhere, but it became tattered and trashed (bad daddy!).
- She has a thing for towels. I suspect it is because she now has no blanket to carry with her.
- She thinks she’s a lapdog. It’s cute now, but when/if she gets bigger….
- She once found a dead baby bird in the backyard. She brought it to the back door and barked insanely until my dad disposed of it. Apparently it didn’t belong.
- She chews rocks. She digs them up and carries them everywhere. Be warned.
- She chews bushes. In process of trying to break her of this.
- She jumps and tries to chew tree limbs. Suspected bird hunting; she only does it when birds are in said tree. Again, trying to break her of this.
- She hates sqeeky toys. She has effectively hidden the two squeaky toys bought (a rubber sqeaky stick and the squeaky green thing pictured below). They have not been seen since she hid them two and a half months or so ago.

I would love to give her up as free, but I didn’t get her completely free. I don’t think she’s pure German Shephard, which would be a pricey sale to be sure. I do know she’s at the very least part Shephard.

If anyone is interested, ESPECIALLY IN THE DALLAS/FORT WORTH AREA, please email me or leave a comment.

Her price is $250. (I’m willing to negotiate)

Savannah roughly 2 1/2 months old, playing with Big Ed

Savannah as of July 23, 2006. Wet from playing in the pool and carrying a stick.

As a child I was a little clock. Once a month, on the dot, I’d have strep. It was terrible. It got so bad that they decided I needed a tonsilectomy (needed my tonsils removed). However, once decided, I had nonstop strep. They pushed back my surgery three times before my pediatrician said "to hell with it" and put me under with a 102 temp.

Since then, I’ve regularly had strep once every two years or so.

Until now, I’ve gone a good five years or so without one single strep diagnosis. Guess I was way overdue. This just kicked me in the ass.

I ignored the headaches I woke up with Thursday and Friday, even managed to ignore the beginnings of a stabbing pain when I swallowed Friday. But when I woke up Saturday morning at FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING and couldn’t swallow because my entire exterior throat was swollen and puffy and tender and the entire interior was swollen and icky looking, I couldn’t ignore it.

I’ve had strep plenty to know that you must gargle warm salt-water to cleanse the throat. You must drink plenty of juices and water. You must see a doc as soon as possible.

What I didn’t remember was the massive headaches and the lovely fevers. I don’t have a thermometer, however after this, I will purchase one. I mean, if after taking some tylenol for the headache and fever, my temp was 100.4 (visited my mother, don’t ask), then I must’ve had a pretty high fever. Hell, it was high enough that I couldn’t focus or see straight, I was quite dizzy and off balance. Until the tylenol, of course. Then I could move and sleep with ease.

Of course, that also meant that I went to take a nap Saturday afternoon while Big Ed visited his parents. But when I woke up…. According to Big Ed, the apartment’s thermostat read 85degrees but I was cuddled and huddled in a ball under the blankets freezing my ass off.

So I’m not doing so well. And to top it off, I gag on my birthcontrol pill, a tiny little spec of a pill compared to the horse-pill antibiotics and painkiller/anti-inflamatory meds the doc gave me. My throat is still that swollen. *sigh*

I’m late,
I’m late,
For a very important date.
No time to say "Hello."
Goodbye.
I’m late,
I’m late,
I’m late.

Yikes! I almost went all day Thursday not realizing it was Thursday! Perhaps because work was odd today. But then again it was the same. Contradictions at it’s best unless you were there to understand. *sigh*

So, today’s HNT was taken at work a few weeks ago. MmmmHmmm. We have a daily ice-cream man. He sells ice-cream to the production workers at $1 for anything in his push-cart. So, I sweet talk one of the guys into running out and getting me a FudgeBomb. They’re great.

Pay attention to the news the next few weeks, those of you who are in the DFW area. You may very well see me and the other drafters from work on strike. Why? Many reasons. Those grievances against the company are hereby listed below:

(keep in mind, while reading, that our pay period is from Thurs-Wed)

1. If you are going to pay as little as possible to the employees, you should at least have SOME form of insurance offered. Do you? NO. A SALESMAN had to bring in a buddy of his from an insurance company to try to calm the company down a little. Let me tell you, the least you could do was welcome them with open arms and made a deal with them to offer lower rates. What money we do make would, if we chose to take them, would go directly into their greedy pockets.

2. Is it so much to ask that we make a decent wage? I understand that we may not all be qualified by collegic standards, but we know AutoCAD to a T and we know the database and we know what the fuck is going on! Hell, the guy who got me my job has been with you for SIX FUCKING YEARS and IS JUST NOW getting another 50c "raise" to an even $20/hr! THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT! I made that AS AN ENTRY LEVEL EMPLOYEE at my previous employer! The guy who sits next to me has been with you a little over a year now and is BARELY making $12.50/hr! Why not hire a completely staffed section of highschool employees? You’re already halfway there! FUCK! The PART-TIME employees make more per hour than the guy next to me! AND THEY WORK HALF THE TIME!

3. You wish to employ more people, therefore you CUT over time OUT of our shrinking list of possibilities? That makes NO FUCKING SENSE! Which works out better, paying one person time and a half at $13/hr (best scenario pay scale), or paying two people $13/hr? For a 40/hr week, you pay out twice as much as before, but, no! You’re looking at overtime as well! One person working overtime for one file is roughly 46hrs, which is $637 pretaxes. Paying two people to share a file at EXACTLY 40hrs pays out $1040 for that week, or roughly $520/person pretaxes. How does that save you money? And with the new policy in place, we are not allowed to clock in before 8am, yet you expect us AT OUR DESKS, ALREADY CLOCKED IN, READY TO WORK, AT EIGHT! Now we have mandatory ONE HOUR lunches? It was nice with a mandatory half-hour lunch with maximum allotted time set at one hour, but docking us the minutes we don’t stay away for the full hour? Counterproductive on SO many levels! And shall I begin with today’s announcement, at noon, "Those of you who have already clocked your forty hours, get your ass out"? By three today, there were roughly 6 of 18 drafters still click-clacking our keyboards. I missed half-day on Friday, and being yelled at because I’m still fumbling with my belongings AT FIVE FIFTEEN because I haven’t left yet DOESN’T allow me to make up those four hours I need to even REACH my required 40. And I hope you’re happy, I didn’t make my 40, which means my paycheck this Friday will be quite small and I will be lucky to be able to pay for fuel after bills are paid.

Oh, wait, you want to keep money out of our pockets while you line yours with as much of the good green as possible. Greedy bastards.

4. The "teams" you put us on cause nothing but trouble. We compete to put things into production, however if the salesmen don’t sell, we don’t produce. Not to mention that salesmen are unfairly divided among the teams, some teams (like mine) have ALL new people and two veterans under one bitch who knows NOTHING about leading a group of people, and the work is unfairly balanced upon those teams that are weaker. Our quota each quarter hovers around $700,000 of drawings, and with record breaking sales the last two quarters, our expected quota has risen, not taking into account the weaker teams BARELY scraping by. And the "rewards"? JUST for making quota, a team gets "bonuses". These are a load of crap. It started with the winning team getting $3000 to split among the members. That was fine. Now it’s shifted to simply making quota gets you a minimum $50 "bonus". The higher up you are in the team structure, the more money you get, and the "winning team" gets nearly a double paycheck. We rake in a MINIMUM of 2.1MILLION each quarter, and all we get is an extra paycheck? Where’s our .5% of that 2.1MILLION? That’s a MINIMUM of $10500.00 to split among roughly 18 people, a MINIMUM of $600 a drafter! This $50 minimum simply for making quota is bullshit. Our quota gets you millions a quarter.

5. I don’t owe you a gawddamn bit of loyalty. If I hear that fucking lecture one more fucking time, I’m going to scream! I took this job because at the time, no one else would hire me. Same goes for 90% of the rest of the drafters. Not to mention that to expect loyalty you must be loyal. You are only loyal to the upper management. We work our asses off and they sit on their high thrones and fill their pockets. MILLIONS. WE, the drafters, put MILLIONS into production each quarter. Salesmen see 9.5% of that in commission (a load of bullshit), our supervisor (who does NOTHING) sees .5% of that as a quarterly bonus. That .5% is SUPPOSED to be divided among the DRAFTING DEPARTMENT, not stop with the drafting director! We see NOTHING for our hard work except the heel of your boot, and you expect us to be loyal? Fuck that!

Keep in mind that these are simply my rants against the company. I’m sure that once us drafters get together for our final organizational meeting, this list will expand. I’ve been there six months, some have been there six years. A few longer than that. One thing we all agree on: something has GOT to change.

LittleOne called me last week. Monday, I think. I wasn’t at my desk, so I missed the call. She didn’t call from a cell phone, which is her normal method, as she can open the flipphone, say "TripleLLL", and the phone will automatically dial me. No, she used the house phone. She actually looked up my number and dialed by hand. Wow.

So I missed her call. My caller ID showed "Home" and I thought something was up. Nobody ever calls me from the house phone! The baby? She’s due any minute now, maybe she’s in labor and I’m gonna miss it?!?

So I call back. Expecting great and exciting news. LittleOne answers.

LO: "Hellow?"
ME: "Hey, did someone call me?"
LO: "Yup. I did."
ME: "Is it the baby?"
LO: "No, silly, just me. Sissy told me to call."
ME: "Did she tell you to call because of the baby? Is the baby coming?"
LO: "No, she won’t come until her expiration date. If she comes before then, she’ll be too little. But if she comes after it, she’ll be too big!"

I fought to control my laughter. Little kids!

Well, the basis of the call was about the wedding. I was supposed to have been in conference with them regarding this matter, but somehow I missed out. They were to be married last Friday, as soon as possible, basically. Y’know, before the baby arrives? Yup.

Court houses are fun. Yup. I took off work Friday and arrived at my mother’s house for lunch. Ran a few errands while we waited for the groom to find his tie (shockingly, HE decided everyone would be dressed up). The bride, 9 months along, was wearing a floor length white maternity skirt and a rather comfortable looking white top. The groom wore black slacks and a white button up, sans tie (couldn’t find one).

We took two cars to the courthouse; bride with me and the folks, groom with their friends. We arrived 15minutes before the appointment, however didn’t check in until two minutes before; the groom and friends got lost. Then the short ceremony. My sister actually cried at her own wedding! And shockingly, my father didn’t cry until afterwards, when he acknowledged she was no longer his.

Marriage out of the way, all that’s stopping the baby is the doctor. He’s on vacation this week, and she’s forbidden to show up until he comes back. LittleOne keeps putting her head to the beachballbelly and asking Serenity to go past her expiration date by nearly two weeks to be born on LittleOne’s birthday so they can be twins. *smile* I can’t wait to have kids of my own ~ they’re adorable.

Was watching Criminal Minds earlier and I had an idea for my HNT. See, I did this a LONG time ago, and it was fun. It’s more fun with cutting and pasting, but when photoshop is at hand…..it’s just tedious! *sigh*

FINALLY it turned out right. Enjoy my two photo collage. Later I will post the two shots I used, both taken with my phone (bad quality).

Big Dick is remodeling his master bed & bath. While doing so, he requested his followers readers to post a pic of their ’shitter’.

I consider this task complete. However, it may not be exactly what he wanted, it’s what I found upon entering the bathroom to take said photo.

I even marked the blur of grey cat fur for you.

[EDIT - THIS IS PARTIALLY STRICTLY A TRIPLEL POST]

As you can see, I’ve changed the look of my blog again. That last background was wonderful, but too many complaints led to me mirroring it to make it a little more readable, but it wasn’t working for me.

So I took a little free shopping spree on over at Se7en’s freebies page. I had to pick between this one and the "pink scrolls". This one just fit better.

When I showed Big Ed my new page, he got slightly jealous, then excited and asked where I got the layout. When I showed him, he found one he liked and asked if I could customize it for him. His choice? *giggle* the Forest Faerie layout. As you can see, we took some liberties with that layout. OF COURSE, Se7en still is credited with the layout, all I did was change the color of the lines and exchanged the faerie with travel stuff.

What Big Ed doesn’t know is that I’ve emailed Se7en to request pricing on a custom layout for him. For those of you who don’t know, Se7en runs Blogs Gone Wild, a lovely little page with lots of options (for a price) for those who don’t know a lot about html or customizing their own page. AND, he’s got a summer-time sale going on…wooo!

Ok, maybe I’m doing a little bit of shameless pushing for a friend, but hey, can ya blame me? He’s a great guy, I’ve met him and bought him lunch. And that was BEFORE he fully developed the idea for this little web-based business!

But, yea, new layout here AND over at Big Ed’s place. It was a rather relaxing weekend, even if I’m more broke than I should be and still have to buy my sister’s babyshower gift.

Oh, and I need a new Super Nintendo AC Adapter…know where I can get one? Nintendorepairshop.com is a possibility, but I want it NOW, not in a few days/weeks. How’m I supposed to play my Star Wars games? Yea, so I talked my brother out of the systems and the games (hell, he only plays that multi-player online playstation crap anyway…I like it older school…like THE Nintendo and the Super Nintendo…too young for Atari, but I have one…it doesn’t work though). Now I just gotta talk Big Ed into letting me hook ‘em up to the tv….He doesn’t believe in tv game consoles; insists on PC gaming. It’s not about the GAME, it’s about the FUN. You can’t replicate the feeling of plugging in all the cords, unravelling the controllers, playing with the RF Switch with a loose wire, and enjoying hours of thumb-numbing games.

Well, I best go to sleep; big day of fighting with The Bitch at work tomorrow. *rolls eyes*

I woke this morning not realizing it was Thursday. My tip off? Big Ed’s HNT! For once, he posted BEFORE me AND I didn’t have to bug him either!

Well, I had my HNT picture chosen this past weekend. I did a few shots of me with my camera while at a few red-lights on the way home last Friday and chose my favorite for today.

This shot was actually taken while waiting my turn at drive-up banking.

This HNT is named for the collar and seatbelt, both of which are forms of containment: the seatbelt for obvious reasons, and the collar contains my sexual being solely for my "owner" (boyfriend).

I love the braids. That’s what I’m doing again today, too. Big Ed loves toying with them and the people at work get a kick out of tugging them. So, you see, fun all around, and with Big Ed to come home to? *SMILE*WINK*

( And for those of you who complain I never write anymore, one post back is the first story in months. Enjoy )

It’s my day off and I can’t sleep in. I’m just not programmed for it. Years of waking at five regardless of the day or event. So, before I search for a local dentist office*, I figured I’d blog a bit. And tell a story. It has been too long.

Day Off

Lindsay’s alarm screeched into the dark silence. She groaned and opened her eyes, glaring at the ceiling. She had forgotten to turn the damn thing off last night; today was her day off work, she didn’t need to be awake for another two hours at least. Grudgingly she crawled out of bed and stumbled across the room, a trick she had learned to wake her up in college when she had to turn off her roommate’s alarm when she was nowhere to be found. After getting up and walking, she could never fall back asleep, which annoyed her this morning; she’d only gotten two hours of sleep.

The night before she had attended her sister’s bachelorette party, held unceremoniously a week before the wedding. They’d gone out dancing at the local Country dance hall, Tombstone Torri’s. Torri, the owner, was due to stop by later in the day to help finalize plans on the reception with Lindsay and Laura. Lindsay was supposed to pick up her sister by one so the three of them could decide before Laura needed to be at the airport for her departure flight from Montana to Texas to see her fiance. Who knew that being states apart was the best way to find a man?

When her thoughts turned to men, Lindsay looked toward her bed. Lying still ensconced in the blankets was the memory of her fiance. The perfect man, at least in her eyes. She blamed herself for his death years ago, still unable to forgive herself, and still unable to invite another man to her bed. Nobody understood, insisting she dance with every available male the night before. Dancing the night away had been wonderful, but it was lonely.

In the end, after a few dozen drinks, she turned down every invitation and went to bed alone. Now those drink were turning on her, as they do every morning after; her head was splitting with a lovely hangover migrane. If the alarm had been off, it wouldn’t have hit quite just yet. Groaning, she stumbled back to bed and crawled under the covers, desperate to drown in her memories once more.

She rolled onto her side and curled up against the memory of Seth, only to find the memory wasn’t a memory; there was an unclothed man sprawled across her dead lover’s side of the bed. Before she could react, he woke from a feigned sleep and covered her mouth and pinned her down. First the alarm, then the hangover, now this; NOT my morning!

Unable to struggle, knowing that screaming would do no good, Lindsay went as limp as she could and stared wide-eyed at the intruder. In the dark, he looked fierce, but there was something about his face…she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t say where. Damnit! Why’d I have so much to drink?! I can’t think! His features were smudged in the early morning darkness, but high cheekbones were obvious. His eyes were impossibly black and mesmirizing.

"My dear, please do not tell me you have already forgotten me! I leave for two weeks and you treat me like a complete stranger!" His voice was deep and rich and wrapped around her like a comforting security blanket. The fear in her eyes fought with relief. His hand, thick with the scent of the forest and fresh air, slowly slid from her mouth. Trembling, she pulled one arm free and ran her hand down his cheek. It can’t be…

"…S-s-seth?"

"Lindsay, honey, you are acting like you have just seen a ghost! I have only been gone two weeks!" Impossible! she thought, I saw you die! How..? Mind muddled, her astonishment showed through her face. She pulled her other arm free and cradled his face with both hands. A glint caught her eye. Her engagement ring shone in the darkness. She hadn’t worn it since that last hospital visit. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at his face. All the guilt she had locked away over his death surfaced and escaped through the liquid streaming down her cheeks.

"Shh, baby, don’t cry" he whispered as he leaned down to kiss her. His lips tasted just as she remembered, but different somehow. The taste of the earth, the taste of him, the taste of her on his tongue, all familiar and true to Seth, but there was something else. The slight scent of honey? Yes, there it was, just the tip of his lips brushed with honey. It wasn’t a sticky honey, like the sugary food, it was the skin itself; it was him.

She froze. This wasn’t Seth. Seth was dead. Her lips parted for a scream that never came; his hand was suddenly covering again, the scent of honey clear in her mind. Pinned once again, she struggled frantically.

"Be still! Darling, what’s wrong?" He whispered in her ear. Unable to scream, desperate to get him to remove his hand, she bit hard on his fingers. His muffled curses preceded a sharp slap across her face. She lay still once more, glaring at him in the dark.

"You….You’re not Seth!" She spit at him, breath coming fast. A sneer as a response to her accusation drove fear back into her eyes, bringing a gasp out of her throat.

"No, I am not. And you, my dear," he shifted atop her, "are a murderer. You killed Seth, and now you shall pay." She suddenly realized her struggling had worked him up, something she was surprised she hadn’t noticed before, mainly because it was quite painfully obvious as he throbbed, large and thick, against her stomach. "That’s it, tremble for me."

"Wh-who are you?" She asked, voice quite small with her fear.

"Do you not remember me? Or did you really only have eyes for Seth?" He shifted again, beginning to part her legs, not a difficult task for someone as muscular and big as he. "That first and only dinner you attended, hanging all over Seth, he introduced you to us all. Did you really forget he had a twin?" Grunting with the effort of holding himself up, Shawn sneered down at her wide-eyed face. He held both her hands with one of his, and slid the engagement ring off her finger, "You never deserved this," and tossed it across the room. "Seth never saw it coming." Slowly he lowered himself, as he entered her, he whispered "Now, you pay."

Her pain tried to fly out in a scream, but that scream was stopped by his mouth covering hers. He began pumping slow, nibbling her lower lip in time with his hips, using his free hand to caress her skin. Her body betrayed her and she moaned. The trembling faded from fear to excitement. She no longer fought, caving in and giving her craving body what it had been denied. It wasn’t Seth, but it was the closest she’d ever come again.

Shawn couldn’t understand her sudden change, it was supposed to be payment for killing his brother, not something she should enjoy! He pulled his mouth away and angrily pushed into her on his next thrust. Her shock and gasp was satisfying to his ear and he repeated the thrust. His hand squeezed tighter around her wrists, his nails bit into her tender breasts. Lindsay whimpered, the fear back in her eyes, but she was unable to control her body. Shawn sneered once more as he bent down to nuzzle her neck, biting none too gently. She cried out, fighting to regain control of herself, pulling at her captive hands, her hips still lost to their attempt to meld into his body.

Lindsay’s regained attempts to free herself hightened Shawn’s desire, driving him harder and faster into her. She screamed out from the pain and realization that he had no intentions of letting up now. Sobs fell from her lips as she bagan to beg him to stop, urged on by the feeling of blood dripping down her neck onto the bed.

To her surprise, he suddenly stopped, raising his head, her blood trailing down his chin. With a moan, he threw his head back and pushed as deep inside as he could. With the deepest dread, she realized she could feel his cumming, deep and hot inside her.

She woke up in a sweat, clutching the sheet around her tightly. The clock lit up the room with the red digits, it was only four in the morning; she’d been asleep for an hour. Maybe she shouldn’t've had those last few drinks.

(end)

* I have a tooth literally rotting in place, no pain, nothing, just releasing bits of tooth every so often…happened with all my baby molars when they were ready to fall out, but this isn’t a baby tooth….and before you blame my brushing habits, I will say this: if it is simply a massive cavity, it will be my second ever, and being that it is on the farthest molar, a tooth barely reaching out of my gums, and considering my tiny mouth, with even the smallest toothbrush (trust me, i’ve gone for them), it is a hard to reach tooth. Doc said that I just had some coding in my DNA for the saliva or something that attacked the baby molars as they got ready to fall out; but they never made it to ‘falling out’, they ALL had to be pulled. It is part of my fear of dentists…seems every time I went in, they were pulling…and the needles….so you see my hesitation to hunt one down and blog instead?

EDIT
A quick aside: DINOSAURS IS NOW ON DVD!!!!!!!!!!

Let me be selfish for a moment. I think I deserve that much at least.

Just as a rule is meant to be broken, a plan is meant to fall through. That is one painfully obvious truth I have learned these last couple decades known as my (short) life. I do try not to get my hopes up for anything, but there are times I let my guard down and find myself actually looking forward to something. I have learned to hope for the best but prepare for the worst, and be happy to at least land somewhere in between. That is, as I said, my usual way of looking at things. It serves me for the most part, but every now and then there are some shocking surprises that slip through. I try not to dwell on anything, it hurts the spirit, but when things refuse to allow me to not dwell…it’s not pretty.

Well, I made a plan. A long ago plan. All around me I see my plan coming true for other people, but not me. It’s completely unfair! Take my sister for instance; she’s not yet 18, will have a baby and be married by the end of this month. Aren’t I, the elder one, supposed to get married first? Aren’t I, the elder one, supposed to start a family first? And yet, I find myself unable to get mad at her or upset with her, instead I am finding myself willing to buy them a cheap set of rings as a wedding gift (they can upgrade later for an anniversary — if they last that long). No, I’m more upset with the fates than anything. They have refused me every turn so far. I can understand that some higher power may have a plan for me, but what about ME and MY plans? I don’t want to be some old maid, and, though it is better than an old maid, I don’t want to be like my oldest sister and wed at 30; I want to marry early ("young" it is called nowadays) and enjoy my husband a few years, then have children, as many as he will consent to, while I’m energetic enough to handle them. Which, by my "fragile health" state, won’t be my mid- to late-thirties!

I’ve heard the speeches about being too young, about needing to go out and enjoy life, and about needing to go out and explore and have an adventure so as not to look back later and regret starting so soon. It might sound strange, but I don’t want to enjoy life as a single, and even though it might be exciting to explore and enjoy adventures, I know my financial limit, and it’s rather very small. Depressingly small. It’s not going to change any time soon, and I’m fine with that. I’ve got more now than I did growing up, I’m actually quite happy with that. I refuse to envy or crave beyond my means. Marrying "young" doesn’t bother me, it is actually something I’ve wanted since I was quite little, though, maybe growing up in a community where the average alter-going age is either 20 or never, might have something to do with it.

I know Big Ed’s response to all this. We’ve talked. It’s too soon after his divorce, I understand. Hell, he even called me his ex-wife’s name the other day! (granted her name and my name are quite similar, just a consonant apart sound wise) IF we make it that far, it’ll be AT LEAST another year before any sort of ring. I’m fine with that. I would just like some sort of assurance it could be more than an "if".

It’s just a little disheartening, really. And quite unfair. Of my close-knit group of friends, two are engaged, while the third has recently acquired a boyfriend. Yes, I only have like three friends. Sad, huh? Which makes it slightly worse.

In ten days it will be six months for me and Big Ed. Honestly it doesn’t feel all that long ago, but it is still a milestone. And to be frank, a part of me is slightly upset, asking if I’m not as good as his exwife; he proposed to her five months after he started dating her. The logical part of my brain knows differently, but there’s still that voice that won’t shut the fuck up.

Oh, before I forget in all my self-absorb’dness, go congratulate Big Dick and O.G.(Kelly). Dick, you’re a wonderful guy, and I’m curious what you got at Home Depot that would hold that rock without letting it’s shine and glow escape. Kelly, you’ve a wonderful man, don’t let anyone steal him! And that kitchen is gorgeous; hope you enjoy it!

I’m a food lover. That’s no secret. I savor every bite, and it is beginning to show. C once made some remark about wishing to come back in his next life as a chunk of food to have me look at him the same way (jackass!).

Earlier tonight I told Big Ed that I was in the mood to go out tonight, but not like the usual outing for food; I asked if he knew of anything small and unusual. After much thinking, he asked how I liked German food. To be honest, I’ve never been to a strictly German restaurant before, which made his mind up instantly. The only problem was he couldn’t remember the name of the place and wasn’t sure if it was still snuggled in the heart of Fort Worth. We made the trip on the faith that it was there, and even if it wasn’t, there’d be plenty of options to choose from.

We arrived and saw the flickering and half-lit sign for Edelweiss Restaurant. One step inside the door and you realize why it is rated #1 in Fort Worth (according to Yahoo!Travel)…it’s something you have to see; it can’t be described. I will admit it was a tad crowded with tables, but only roughly 75% of the seats were filled (though I hear it’s jam-packed Saturday nights). I will also admit that a few of the waitresses (the ones that weren’t older than 25) were complimented quite nicely in their uniforms, one most in particular…. (picture something like this, but a little more waist-hugging and sexy on the long legged waitress).

I was warned before I sat down that the food comes in mass quantities. I was prepared enough, I thought, to be able to munch one slice of bread, nibble the salad, then get to my Hungarian Veal Goulosh. To be honest, I barely made a dent in it when I realized I was full. This NEVER happens to me! But it was just.so.much.food! My plate was a little over a foot wide, oblong, and piled AT LEAST four inches high! My only complaint about the place, no isn’t the portions, it’s the price, but DAMN is it worth it! Roughly $12-$16 a plate, but the doggybag will feed ya a few more meals!

While we enjoyed our expensive meal (our final total, including tip was $60), we were serenaded by the owner himself who came out to sing ‘happy birthday’ and any requests for a young 60-something man and his party. He even did a rendition of Elvis’ Jailhouse Rock (which is one of my favorites), and returned to the stage and faced those of us behind the dance floor…I even got his attention (I think it was my shirt partly, the rest my major smile) and it seemed he was singing TO ME for that brief song…it ended with a wink *giggle*. The "band" stopped playing and allowed him his time (after all, he IS the boss). This band consisted of an accordian player and a keyboardist/singer. They are a treat! And our waitress was a bit of a gossipper, spilling the beans about one woman sitting all alone at a table near the stage — she’s the accordian’s stalker! She, maybe 250lbs, comes by every night and only leaves when the band finishes. Keep in mind, the guy she’s ’stalking’ plays the accordian (alright, I admit, that takes FANCY finger work), is rather on the farther side of fourty (at least), and is no slim-jim himself.

I must also remark on the little "beer tabs" sitting at the table. There were these pieces of business-card-like paper with a triangle perferated in the middle with the appetizer list on one side and the other with this:

Take the triangle and put it, like a bookmark, over the edge of your cup. Viola! They won’t touch your drink while you PEE PEE. *giggle*

Ok, I must be off to bed now; just remember, if you’re ever in the Fort Worth area, I highly recommend this place. After all, I wouldn’t have titled this post "Damn Good Eatin’" for nothin’!

Just a quickie today. Enjoy!

Brutus is my first Vet-ridden pet. Before him, they were all healthy and/or taken care of medically by my dad (aka: shotgun). Being that he is my first pet with medication orders from the vet, I had a bit of experimenting to do for antibiotic/pain reliever time.

Brutus has been declawed and looks quite unfavorable upon us humans in the apartment. Pandora constantly taunts him (case in point: she is currently sitting atop HIS tower, staring down at him willing him to hurt himself to make her move her high-throned ass). He sits in the room with his back to everyone and tries his best to sleep; I feel terrible - his attempt at throwing guilt is working.

Our first excursion into medication-time began with his pain stuff. One syringe filled with 0.1mL. No problem. That dropped on his tongue and he swallows. Next up, the amoxicillan mixture, filled to 1.0mL. Now to test how well this will work….

I lay across the bed with Brutus snuggled on my stomach, pillows propping me up for some support. Holding his neck gently, making him look at me, I ease my thumb below his chin. He is effectively trapped, but not harmed. Three small drops go by fine before I let a little too much out. The result is a nice gash on my stomach from his back claws as he jumped out of my hold and hobbles to the door (he tries running, but slows quickly and limps). Guess my hold wasn’t that great…or I was as surprised as he was… Either way, it took a few minutes of soothing his ruffled fur before I could ease the dropper back to his lips. Tail thumping, he’s not happy. The rest of the dropper emptied without any other incident.

Now, all this while, Big Ed has been out to the Mart of Wal picking up a cage for dear Brutus. For the next two weeks he is confined to HEAVY supervision and lockdown while we are sleeping or at work.. Know why? Cuz he’s got GLUE holding his paws together and he is not allowed to jump or put excessive sudden weight on them. TWICE tonight we’ve lost him. Err, the first time was shortly after medications, I turned my back for a second to scold Pandora more for taunting him and I turned back and he was gone! He managed to get up on the counter in the bathroom and was whimpering in pain. The second was just a short time ago; Big Ed had returned with the cage and he had COMPLETELY disappeared when we finished setting up the collapsable thing. He was nowhere to be found! Turns out, the meds had finally kicked in and he was hiding behind my stuffed leapard atop the television in the bedroom. He wasn’t happy he’d been found.

Apparently neither is he happy he’s caged and Pandora isn’t. I think I’d better go and seperate the two before he hurts himself trying to get out and be free…. She’s taunting him again, but from above him on the table *sigh* Children!

I’ve an idea to create a small comic about my two cats.

Very original, I know.

But considering all the stuff that goes on, it would be a best seller and a great read.

Well, I figured I could start off with a major current event: Brutus being declawed.

Brutus is massive in size, but he’s still a kitten and nowhere near a year old yet. Pandora is a tiny thing, the runt of the litter, and at 8years old, quite cynically set in her ways. They don’t really get along; they have that Garfield & Odie relationship.

Thus, I present the first in the, hopefully, successful series.

CLICK

My close knit circle of friends has drifted since I moved. And since half of them have kids now. Woohooo! *not*

I have a dream of one day being married to a wonderful man. With luck, this wonderful man would want kids as much as he’s good with them. So far I’ve found men who are good with children, but don’t want any. *sigh* Maybe Big Ed is different; he simply says ‘not right now’, which I’m completely fine with! AFTER the wedding!!! …*IF* there is a wedding for us. After over three years with C produced nothing, my hopes aren’t too high, and only five months with Big Ed, I can’t hope too hard; he already told me it’d be AT LEAST a year before he will even consider going on one knee.

But I’ve got people who have a lovely head start on my dream. Here’s a short list:

- My sister, who’s due before August, exact date keeps shifting. She and the daddy will be wed before then, and have already named the baby: Serenity Leigh Dean (I think that’s his last name….)

- Bitch, once one of my best friends, now just another friend in a faraway town that I see very little of anymore; mostly because of her nightshift job and her baby. From what I understand, her fiance is no longer a part of their life and she’s back in her mother’s house, but I haven’t spoken with her yet, so I don’t know for sure. Christine Elizabeth Childs is only a few months old and is one of THE most adorable babies I’ve had the pleasure of spoiling so far.

- My cousin, who’s roundabout the same age as my sister, is knocked up as well. Don’t know the story here, just that she’s following in her brother’s footsteps, though his child was born when he was only 14.

- BabyBitch, another friend (nickname given to her by her fiance), is suspected of being pregnant; I have no way to know if this is true or not; she won’t answer her phone. Either way, she will be married by the end of next year and will surely be pregant at least by then.

- My aunt; I know she’s got four other kids, but the fact remains that at this moment she’s with child again. It’s in the air!

I’m sure I’m missing someone here, but you get the picture. Everyone is knocked up but me! I can’t help but to feel left out of the loop, which only makes my depression so much worse. Sorry, not depression, I’m not clinically diagnosed, and would refuse to accept it if I were. I’m just feeling rather lonely, that’s all. I don’t get along with too many people well enough to consider them close friends, and those close friends I do have are drifting away…. And mostly because I moved to another town and half of them are affianced and/or will be parents! GAHHH!!

Thus, I throw myself into other areas of life; like books (always a decent, yet sometimes expensive, outlet), writing (which you should see more of soon), and recently added to the list: my ORKS! And my kitten gets a lot of my attention when I’m home; I’m just so worried and having second thoughts about his operation Monday….I was all for his being declawed until the appointment was set; now I don’t feel so well and I’m worried for him. He’s my baby afterall! He loves me and expects me to keep him from getting hurt, he hides when too many people come over, he lays on me and purrs and knows that I’m there for him…and I’m voluntarily handing him over for an amputation! Oh the betrayal!

Yes, I very well could be the crazy cat lady; I love my cat so much he could possibly be my child; hell, I’ve spoiled Big Ed’s cat too! She’s already adopted me! So, I guess, in a way, I have my babies too, but it’s not the same. It’s a psychological thing, really. It’s not about "growing up", it’s about a dream FINALLY coming true, something going so perfectly right for a change, y’know? Something that can’t be rushed, yada yada yada, must happen on its own, in due time, blah blah blah. I know. I try not to push it, but when it’s being shoved in my face from so many around me….