“Only me and God have all the facts about myself…”

- But you can have seven.

Chloe and Lexi tagged me so here goes:

Rules:
1. Link to your original tagger and list these rules in your post
2. Share 7 facts about yourself in the post
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post, leave their names & links to their blogs
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged

1. When I was a young teen, like that awkward age of 14/15 when you’re trying to fit in as a freshman in high school, I had the summer job of detassling corn- the worst job ever, I might add- along with 90% of the rest of my fellow high schooler’s. (We lived in corn country. We ALL detassled.)

One particular stretch of days in July brought high temps and high humidity and people were “dropping like flies” (to quote the crew leader on that day) from heat exhaustion. One of those “flies” was me.

I semi-fainted in the middle of the corn field and was scooped up and hauled out by the high school football star. Not only did my shirt ride up as he carried me, revealing my ugly sweat stained support bra and half of one tit, he laid me down in the ditch in front of *everybody*, bare tit and all, where a cricket hopped right into my mouth. So I promptly rolled over and puked down his shirt- essence of cricket and orange gatorade.

He was the gorgeous senior class football hero. I was the geeky, pimpled, glasses-wearing loser freshman.

It was the single most mortifying experience of all of my high school years.

(Years and years later, when my kids were smaller, I ran into him again when he signed on to be my kid’s T-ball coach. He was about 60lbs overweight and balding. I was still a bar-hopping hottie. Silly as it is, I felt better.)

(He remembered me. I was mortified all over again.)

(That wasn’t a fact so much as a memory but whatever. It’s my blog and I can do what I want! )

2. I am afraid of the dark. When Master is away, I leave the bedroom light on. And I hop onto the bed from a few feet away because the under-the-bed boogey man might grab my feets.

But all monsters are gone when he is home.

3. I’m a fast reader. Probably not a speed reader, but close. I don’t read like I used to though. I’m less enamored with fantasy I think.

4. I came very very close to falling over the edge into alcoholism. Almost everyone else in my family IS an alcoholic and they have serious life-affecting problems due to drinking. When I was in my early 20′s, I drank like they do and I found comfort in being drunk. I had a drunk driving charge when I was 21. Entire bottles of liquor to myself, puking blood, going to work still drunk/hungover, losing jobs because I couldn’t go to work, too sick to take care of my kids.. etc. etc.

There was one night sitting in a bar with my friends, talking with one friend very matter of factly about “if I go home with that guy (whom I didn’t know), will you pick me up in the morning and take me home?” and I thought to myself “this just isnt fun anymore. I’m better than this.”

I didn’t quit just like that, but I started cutting back and watching other people (family, friends) getting drunk more than joining them- and I realized how fucking stupid they are. Soon enough I wasn’t drinking at all, found some stability in my job and in my life, enjoyed my kids more.

I think I could have gone to the other side pretty easily though. I think I may have already been there.

5. I love romantic comedies. They make me cry. Like, bawl-cry, but happy tears. I couldn’t wacth them before Master though. I was so miserable in my private life that to watch other people, even actors in a fake setting, being so happy made me angry. Now, I’m on a “twat twitcher” movie kick. I want to watch all of them because, for a change, I can identify with the feelings. I walk away from watching those movies feeling lucky and happy and very much in love with mah man.

6. I carry a stupid amount of pride for having gone through two natural childbirths without so much as a Tylenol, by my choice. And not a single scream. I know, it’s silly and it proves nothing, except, yes it does! I am woman, hear me roar! Check out my massive pain tolerance. I can shove a watermelon out of my vagina with nary a tear. Grrs!

With the third though, I was just tired. So I opted for an epidural and, omg, it was heavenly. There was no pain whatsoever. In fact, I was actually birthing him (head crowning) while chit chatting idly with my mother when the nurse came in to do a check. She squealed and ran out to find a doctor. “Your baby is coming!” Hee.

But then I had my tubes tied right after and I came out of the anesthesia crying. That fucking hurt. Boo.

7. For years and years I resented that my parents were too poor to afford to let me join band and learn how to play an instrument. I love music and was terribly jealous of my friends when they carried around their instrument cases and when they had to practice at home. I can’t read music or play anything now and I consider that to be a tragedy. I always wanted to learn how to play the piano. ~wistful sigh~

So that two of my three kids can play instruments makes me insanely happy. Jes is moderately decent on the flute and B-man is picking up the guitar pretty quickly. Am started the violin several years ago but lost interest in a short time. (What she should do is sing but she’s too shy. She’d be good though.)

I’m tagging:

1. You.
2. Yes you.
3. You! The one reading this right now.
4. And you over there in the corner!
5. Oh, yes, you guessed it. You!
6. You too.
7. No I don’t care if you’re shy or don’t have a blog. I’m tagging you anyway! Deal!

Do eeeet!

Titles are so last year!

Master is working this weekend (boo) so I have nothing but time on my hands. I’m gonna fill up on some memes, some pointless babbling, and then, later, (today or tomorrow) I’m gonna shoot y’all some porn (and it’s not me! Another boo!).

I think we need to make some porn though. After watching some of what I’m going to show you later, I’m feeling quite neglected and horny and very much like stomping my feet and demanding that he “play with meee! Wah!” Not that that works or anything but that’s how I feel. I ain’t gonna lie.

Yesterday, I had a big resurgence of masochism. It’s been pretty low-key, as I’ve shared here, almost to the point of Do-Not-Wantism rather than masochism. But yesterday it all kind of bubbled up to the surface and now it’s just slowly simmering. I haven’t had this itchy, twitchy feeling in my panties in a looooong time. It feels kinda weird actually.

What was the big event that sparked the masochism tango in my spankies? Hee. I’ll tell ya!

I was making dinner. Roasted red pepper, asparagus and mozzarella cheese stuffed chicken breast with fettucini alfredo on the side. Wanna see?? It was uber-yummy!

First, you pound out some chicken breasts. I sprinkled them with an Italian seasoning/parmesan cheese/chives mixture on both sides. Then add in a couple of asparagus spears, a pepper slice and some mozz. cheese. Roll up, stab with some toothpicks to hold it together, drizzle with olive oil and bake at 350F for, oh, 20-30 minutes or until done.

Here’s the precooked look.

Here’s the finished look.

It was so nummy. But I digress. Enough of the noms.

So I was standing at the counter, pounding out the chicken breasts, right? And, you know, I was all alone and, admittedly, I’m getting a little stir crazy, a little cabin fever taking root as winter never ends up here in No Man’s Land, and I talk to myself. In LOLCat language. I guess maybe I figure my cats can understand me if I speak in their native tongue. That way I’m not really talking to myself. I’m talking to *them*.

They do look at me like I’m insane so they could be listening!

Hush.

Anyway, the cats are terrified, either because I’m talking to them or because I’m rattling the windows with my earnest meat flattening, hard to say really, and it amused me that they were all poofed up and hunkered down and wild eyed, stalking around the house trying to flush out the enemy. So I started brandishing the meat tenderizer at them and going, “Ahh! I are teh skeery meat lady!” *Slam!* “I will beat you with my skeery hammeh!” *Wham!*

I’m beating the bloody hell out of the chicken breasts. “I are teh Chicken Boob Sadist! I will mangle your titties! Grrrs!” *BamBamBam!*

And then I held up my little wooden meat tenderizer and I thought, now why in the HELL is this neat-o toy NOT IN THE TOYBOX!?!?!

Just like that, I bubbled. Yep. Bubbled over with masochistic need.

This?

Will be in the toybox. And I will have my breasts tenderized. Probably not quite as mangled as I did that poor chicken, but close. I hope.

I has needs!

Dinner was good though. Really.

~~*~~

Speaking of the cats, Loverboy (orange kitty) has been acting up the last few days. He wanders around the house yowling (and he’s fixed so no chance of being randy), and we call him over and he comes and lets us pet him for a second and then he resumes his prowling and yowling.

He tore the shit out of Am’s lunchbag. Like, shredded it. He dumped over the water dish. He paces up and down the stairs, to the bird channel window, to the door, to the bedroom, to the food dish but doesn’t eat, to the bathroom, in and out of the cupboards, back to the stairs…

I think he’s looking for Sutter.

~~*~~

I was tagged! By TakenByLovely.

List five songs you’re REALLY into right now and then tag 5 more people:

1. Single Ladies- Beyonce. (It’s not the song so much, other than that it gets stuck in my head, but the video! All that ass-shaking and air humping, my eyes become glued to the screen.)

2. I’m Yours- Jason Mraz (for the same reason that I like that Hawaiin dude’s version of Over the Rainbow.)

3. I’ve Been Loving You Too Long- Otis Redding (this is a crap video but I can’t find a good one. Love this song though. One of my all-time favorites ever.)

4. Pretty Pink Rose- Ashton Allen (I don’t think this song is very popular. I had to upload it myself to get in on youtube, and though it says it’s like 7 minutes long, the song is the usual length of 3 and a half minutes or so. The rest of the time is dead air. I dunno why nor do I care enough to fix it. I really can’t say why this song appeals to me. Just.. the melody, the smoothness of his voice. I dunno. It just do!)

5. Oh, Darlin’- Robin Gibb. (Again, not the best video. Just, yanno, don’t look at him. Just listen.)

I tag everyone. 5 times.

~~*~~

The Controversial Survey

Would you do meth if it was legalized?
I would not.

Abortion: for or against?
Against.

Would our country fall with a woman president?
Yep.

Do you believe in the death penalty?
Yes. But I think the cases it’s used in should be absolute.

Do you wish marijuana would be legalized already?
No.

Do you believe in God?
No.

Do you think same sex marriage should be legalized?
Yes already. Preferable before my daughter is in love and of legal age to marry.

Do you think its wrong that so many Hispanics are moving to the USA?
No, not wrong. I wish they’d do it legally though.

A 12 year old girl has a baby..should she keep it?
I guess that depends on her parents, as they’ll be the ones raising it and paying for it. But, yes, if she wants it, she should keep it.

Should the alcohol age be lowered to 18?
Well, I think that either the legal adult age needs to be raised to 21 or the drinking age lowered to 18. Preferable, raise the adult age. But the spread between the two makes little sense to me.

Should the war in Iraq be called off?
Before it even started actually.

Assisted suicide is illegal..do you agree?
No.

Do you believe in spanking children?
I do, but with lots of qualifiers. The childs age, how it’s done, what it’s done with- that sort of thing. I don’t necessarily think that physical punishment is the answer for every mistake, but when you need to make a point pretty quickly, a swat on the ass can sometimes shock them into listening better.

Would you burn an American flag for a million dollars?
I probably would do just about anything for a million dollars, though if I did this one, I’d have to be prepared to be disowned by both Master and my dad. Soooo… No. I wouldn’t.

A mother is declared innocent after murdering her 5 children in a temporary insanity case, Do you agree?
I agree with the defense of temporary insanity in some cases, however, I don’t agree with that equalling getting off punishment free. If not life in prison, then life in a mental institution. Whatever.

Are you afraid others will judge you from reading some of your answers?
I am not afraid of it, no.

~~*~~

Amusing (to me) story:

Master, and the rest of us but Master started it, likes to snack on peanuts. So we buy them in these big ginormous bags from Menards. But we’re dorks, right, so we don’t call them peanuts. We call them penis.

As in: Hey, anyone want some penis?

And: Who took the bowl of penis??!

And: Am, they’re gonna kick you out of the Lesbian Club if you keep sucking on penis.

In the store: I found the penis! Penis over here! Penis in aisle 3!

And: I could really sink my teeth into some penis right about now. *nom nom nom*

Hee. Anyway, it’s become stupidly normal to call peanuts penis, we all do it without even thinking about. So last weekend, Am had a friend over and they were sitting at the table working on a homework project. I walked into the living room and the coffee table was a damn mess. Peanut parts scattered all over!

So I holler through the house, “Who in the hell left penis tracks all over the damn coffee table!?”

Am answers back, “The cats were playing in the penis and tracked it all over, Mom.”

And this poor girl (snicker) gets this terrified expression on her face, her mouth drops open, and she’s looking back and forth from me to Am to me to Am and she whispers to Am, “Did your mom just ask you about putting a PENIS on the coffee table??”

We cracked UP. Omg. Freakin’ hilarious. And she’s just staring at us like we’re fucking crazy. Took a few minutes to explain the whole penis-peanut connection and then she was fine, but oh lordy, I forget that not everyone is as weird as we are.

And it isn’t that she was offended that we say penis. She’s 17 and I’ve been with her and her mother and I know they talk about penis, too. It was just the context of it I guess.

Too funny.

Well. Anyway. This is the longest bullshit post in the history of ever so I’m done now.

“Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…”

There are many of you who (who? whom? whatevs) I don’t know very well. So I ganked this from an LJ friend. Answer the questions in a comment so I can learn all your dirty secrets!

1. Can you cook?
2. What was your dream growing up?
3. What talent do you wish you had?
4. Favorite place?
5. Favorite vegetable?
6. What was the last book you read?
7. What zodiac sign are you ?
8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
9. Worst Habit?
10. Do we know each other outside of blogging?
11. What is your favorite sport?
12. Negative or Optimistic attitude?
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
15. Tell me one weird fact about you:
16. Do you have any pets?
17. Do you know how to do the macarena?
18. What time is it where you are now?
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
22. What color eyes do you have?
23. Ever been arrested?
24. Favorite fictional character of all time?
25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
26. If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
27. What’s your favorite hangout?
28. Do you believe in ghosts?
29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
30. Do you swear a lot?
31. Biggest pet peeve?
32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
33. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?

TMI Tuesday

I’m jumping on the TMI bandwagon for lack of anything more exciting to blog about.

1. What do you think is the un-sexiest part of the body?
Assholes. Really. They’re just not pretty no-how.

2. Toilet paper: over, under, or what the hell are you talking about?

Over! For the love of God! O-V-E-R! If I’m at your house and it’s under – I’m changing it. It is THAT important to me.

3. Have you ever called in sick to stay in bed with a sexual partner?

Hee. Yeah. Me and Master can be naughty and immature like that.

4. Did your parents have a “birds & bees” talk with you? If so, at what age?

No. I was indoctrined to the ways of the birds and the bees before I could tie my own shoes. Probably, I could teach them a thing or two by now.

5. What is one thing a someone could do to you to rock your world?
Blah. I don’t know. My world is rocked pretty frequently anyway.

Bonus (as in optional):What does sex mean to you?

Orgasms. Pain. Sweat. Shower. Nap.

Not necessarily in that order.

~~*~~

Today is Am’s 16th birthday. She’s having a party this weekend (oh fun).

I really wanted to post a picture of her because she’s so beautiful but I ain’t even in the mood for the “omg! you posted a picture of your kid on a sex site! Bad mom! wah-wah-wah-wah!” type comments. But you can email me if you wanna.

~~*~~

You know how when you think you’ve gotten away with slacking, like you’ve done just enough that *maybe* it looks like you’ve still done everything you’re supposed to do and since men are meh-iffy sometimes on noticing these domestic things and so you feel a *little* bit guilty, a little bit relieved and just a little bit sneaky, too?

And then, just out of the blue, a couple days later, you surprise him with an unasked-for bowl of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream and he grins and says “Now, THIS makes up for everything you didn’t do last week, cunt.” and you just kind of stand there with that deer-in-headlights look.

You know?

So, off of the internet I go and busy with the chores I am.

~cunt

How to Pluck a Chicken

First, one has to find a chicken.

That would be me. ~waves~ Chicken-shit right here.

So yesterday I got a comment. Lovely comment it was, short and sweet, came with a link to a video. Now I love me some shared s&m ideas, so I read the short and sweet message of “would master like to consider this solution to the hair issue?” and hollered out to Master to come watch it with me.

He did.

Now. Here’s the thing.

Me? Reluctant masochist. I have a hate/hate relationship with pain. You see there at the end how that amazingly brave and wonderful guy has that spontaneous orgasm as a direct result of intense pain? Yeah. That does not happen for me. I don’t orgasm from pain. Well, okay maybe I do when it’s that perfect nipple pain, but I sure as fuck ain’t gonna from hair plucking!

Anyway, back to the hate/hate thing — I hate that I have to be hurt. Srsly. I don’t LIKE pain at all. It hurts. A lot. I go into it dragging my heels and cursing the Genetic Gods that created me in this manner. I got brown hair, short legs, small tits, and a need for pain. Thank You God, you sadistic bastard.

For me, this is the major difference between a “pain slut” and a “masochist”. Y’all may define it differently or even see no difference between the two words at all, but seeing that I live in kaya’s world where I create my own bdsm-language, they are two different words with two different meanings. A pain slut (not me) LIKES pain, craves it, gets off on it, it makes them randy. A masochist (me) NEEDS it for whatever fucked up reason, and it feeds some portion of them in a manner that is not (entirely) sexual. It’s like taking bad tasting medicine. It has to be done for the after-effects. The during-effects suck fat dick.

So when Master discusses with me the mechanics of duct tape hair removal, I am not jittering with masochistic glee. My pussy is not wet. I am not eagerly anticipating the day. What I AM is cotton-mouthed, dry-heaving scared. My stomach churns and I think I might vomit, I envision running away and make panicked plans on where I can go and who I can stay with. I even hate Him a little. Maybe a lot, but who’s keeping track?

And that’s why, as we sat watching the video so generously shared with us by subsquare99, I watched with my mouth hanging open, my legs firmly crossed and tears in my eyes and Master watched with a grin on His face and a twinkle in His eye while getting a chubby. Because He is an eager sadist and I am a reluctant masochist.

/armchair psychology.

The hair continues to grow. I’m no longer just Sas-crotch, but the full Sasquatch. The armpit hair no longer leaves neat-o trails in my stick deodorant, but now lays flat, greased down by my stick deodorant. It is brushable.

Master looks at my leg hair and each time He does, He grabs some to pull. Apparently there is a magic pull-length that I have not reached yet. He also makes faces, cringes and ewws. *sigh* Humiliation games are fun.

Now, fer real people. There is NOTHING even remotely sexy about those legs on a woman. Nothing. I’m trying to come to terms with what His reasons are for making me feel unattractive. Or, more accurately, for turning me into something that HE does not find attractive. I know there are other people who dabble in this sort of thing and if you read Slut On Display, you’ll know about the complicated relationship her Owner has with her tits that He does/does not like.

It really is complicated and hard to grasp. On one hand, I can try and brush it off as being something He’s doing as a means to an end. He *wants* to cause me pain through hair removal and the only way to do that is to let it grow, a process that is just as unpleasant for Him as it is for me. However, while that may or may not explain the cunt hair, it does not apply to the leg/armpit hair. I don’t think duct tape hair removal is in the plans for the legs and pits. Or, it may be in the plans but merely because it happens to be there when He has duct tape in His hands, that wasn’t the purpose or plan when He took my razor privileges away. There is more to it and I can’t figure it out.

Or maybe there isn’t. Maybe it’s purely a whim and I’m giving Him too much credit. *snicker*

Either way, that video up there? If that happens, you’ll hear me screaming wherever you are.

Okay, that other picture isn’t of MY legs. But that’s where they’re headed!! Good God.

These are mine. It’s worse than it looks, trust me.

I am not taking pictures of my disgusting armpits. But I do have a hairy cunt picture. Oh lucky you!

Meh. Nasty.

Anyway. Enough about hair. And thank you for the video link, subsquare99. We were both impressed. You are amazing.

I was tagged by more than one person and I figure that trumps Master’s meme preferences. Hey, majority rules, man. Master’s been out-voted. *beams*

The Rules-
* Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
* Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog – some random, some weird.
* Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
* Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I’m the youngest of nine kids. I’m also the most normal and well-adjusted of the bunch. Take from that what you will.

2. My mother spent a large part of her childhood traveling with a carnival and working a booth as a carny. One of the things she did was palm-reading. Before I got married the first time at age 19, she (jokingly) read my palm and told me I would be married 3 times and have 3 kids.

3. Master is my 3rd husband and I have 3 kids. (My first marriage ended in divorce after 3 kids in 4 years. I was widowed the second time.)

4. I have had both electric shock therapy and “truth serum” therapy. And I am STILL the most normal one in my family. We put the “funk” in dysfunctional.

5. At one time I was a suspected anorexic and weighed less than a hundred pounds. Now I’m a confirmed overeater and need to lose about 40lbs. Irony? No? I can never grasp the concept of irony.

6. When I was a kid (around age 6 or 7) I used to pick all of the marshmallows out of the box of Lucky Charms, put them in a bowl, cover it with chocolate sauce, and force myself to eat it to the point of vomiting — and then some. The game I was playing with myself was of dominance and force, though I didn’t know it at the time. I carried on a sick and twisted dialogue in my head of “do it or else” though I don’t know that I ever defined the “or else” part then. I ‘graduated’ over the years of my adolesence from Lucky Charms and chocolate sauce to eating cigarette butts and licking ashtrays to sucking on the bottoms of shoes and scrubbing toilets with my tongue. Strangely (luckily?) I never picked up germs or got sick. I figure I’ve been a pervert since birth, with a strong tilt toward taste/forced gross stuff. It’s not something I engage in very often or to the point of recklessness that I did as a kid. I’m far too aware of germs these days and it’s ruining that kink. (and I still maintain I’m the normal one!)

7. When I get angry I play minesweeper. I’m currently on a 96 game losing streak of minesweeper. I’m not sure it’s helping the anger.

It’s taken me hours to think of these facts. I am incredibly not interesting. That’s rather depressing.

I think almost everyone I read has done this meme. If not, consider yourself tagged by me! Dweaver? you should do it in my comment section unless you have a blog somewhere that I don’t know about? You are definitely tagged though. I’m popping your meme cherry.

~cunt

Useless Trivia

We are not kid-free (sad face) and it is raining so we’re also not fishing (sadder face). And since Master didn’t even frown at yesterday’s meme, I has more. I have been meme deprived for years! I must make up for lost time.

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