I’m bored.

Master’s taking a nap cuz he has a headache (which *I* did not give to him. For a change.) but we’re supposed to go fishing.

So I’m bored.

I could clean the house but – that’s boring.

I could watch a movie but- that’s boring, too.

I could read but- yep. Boring. I’ve read like 4 books this week. My eyes are tired.

So I come here.. and I really have nothing to talk about.

I killed most everything in the fish tank last week. Not on purpose, just.. cuz I didn’t know why everything was dying. I had about 25 dwarf african frogs and a betta fish and an algae eater in there and then… I dunno.. the frogs started to die. I changed the water- still dying. About 2 a day. I hadn’t done anything different at alll so I was baffled.

Anyway, I finally took everything out, dumped out all the water and in looking over the filter noticed that it was completely clogged with muck. So I’m guessing that even though it was running, it probably wasn’t cleaning the water very well. Probably the water just got too toxic or something.

So, after I cleaned that out and put in all new water, the remaining frogs (about 10 left, if that) and the algae eater seem to be doing okay. The betta died (sniffle. Poor Guapo).

I don’t know how well the garden and flowers are going to do. It got so rainy and cold here for awhile, though the sun is out today. We’ll see. Right now, they look pretty wilted and bedraggled and I’m pretty sure the herbs are drowned. Boo.

The upside down tomatoes look good though. I’ll have to take a picture cuz, you know, everyone has empty cat litter buckets hanging from their deck. It’s a decorating statement!

There’s really not much going on. The summer just seems to be sliding away into nothing. The kids stay up all night and sleep all day- and I don’t really care. *shrug*

Except for Jes. Hee. She’s up earlier and earlier every day. She can’t sleep, too uncomfortable. I told her it was nature’s way of getting her ready and teaching her how to function on little to no sleep before she has the added stress of a crying baby.

She is not amused with my philosophies. :D Her ruling? “Nature sucks ass.”

No baby yet, obviously. She wants to go fishing with us, too. I told her she better not tip the boat over swinging her ginormous belly around.

Let’s see.

Um.. I’m horny.

Frustrating that Master is sleeping and isn’t willing to “service” me. Stingy bastard. I even woke him up and announced my plight. He shooed me away.

I’m gonna try that next time the tables are turned. I’m gonna shoo HIM away.

Yeah right! I don’t have a death wish!

Oh! Did I tell you that I went to the doc and she prescribed me Prozac for my pms?

Well, actually she said I have pmdd and not pms but, pffft, I dunno what I think about buzzwords like that.

Anyway, she gave me this prescription to take only during the two weeks before my cycle (and she gave me the go ahead on birth control pills to skip my period in August) so I call Master up after the appointment and I tell him about the prescription for the pms and you know what he says??

“Thank GOD!”

*insert hurt feelings here*

Seriously? Was I THAT bad?

*sniffle*

I mean, he used to tell me I wasn’t that bad. After it was over and I’d be sniveling into his shirt apologizing for being an ass, he’d pat me on the head and say “You aren’t that bad, snooks. It’s okay.”

Hmmph. Liar.

He could have just TOLD me to go get treatment. In fact he used to tell me not to worry about, that he didn’t want me on medication and that *it isn’t that bad*!!

Truth be told, one of the side effects of prozac is sexual dysfunction (loss of interest, inability to orgasm) and should those be the side effects I end up with, he’ll probably dump the pills down the toilet anyway. I think he’d rather deal with pms than have a non-sexual sex slave.

Although… hmmm… taking it when I don’t wanna can be fun, too.

Besides, if I don’t have pms, what the hell am I going to rant about here?!?!?

;-)

Well that’s all I got. This may be the most boringest entry evah.

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Midol Cures Subdrop! News story at 11!

‘Tis true. *nods*

Or, at least Midol cures those I’m-going-to-start-bleeding-any-second-now blahs that highly mimic subdrop.

I knew I didn’t usually drop THAT hard. Apparently, the combination of mild subdrop and pms equals some fantastically wicked blues. Way cool, yeah?

Of course, had I any inkling of impending period-ness, I’d have waited to wash those fucking sheets, if you know what I mean. Oy. Story of my life, I tell ya.

Anyway, a couple of recipes that I need to share before I forget (again). We had a dinner/play party over the weekend and one couple brought a jello salad that was uber nom, plus, my buns got good reviews and I’ve been instructed to post it so they can have it. :-)

My bread buns, not my ass buns. Pervs.

Mandarin Orange Jello Salad (People love this—good for a potluck!)

Ingredients
1 small box orange jello
1 small box lemon jello
2 cups hot water
1 can lemon pie filling
1 cup juice from mandarin oranges
2 cups drained mandarin oranges

Directions
Pour boiling water into a bowl. Add both jellos and stir until dissolved. Stir in pie filling (using a wire whisk to blend and smooth). Add juice and drained oranges. Let set in refrigerator.

Bread Machine Dinner Rolls
1 cup very warm water
3 heaping Tbsp sugare
3 Tbsp oil
1 1/2 tsp. salt
3 cups bread flour (tap cup to settle flour while measuring and then level off)
2 1/4 tsp. yeast (or 1 packet)

Directions
Add ingredients to bread machine and set on dough cycle. When finished, remove dough from pan to a lightly floured surface. Do not knead. Gently shape into a rectangle and use a knife to cut into 12 semi-equal pieces.

I grab each piece and pinch it in my fist, just to get it into a ball shape with a relatively smooth top. Place in a greased 9×13 pan, cover with a towel, place in a warm spot to rise for 45-50 minutes. (I make a warm spot in the oven by setting the oven to 200 for just 2 minutes, turning it off and placing the pan inside.)

Take the pan out, pre-heat oven to 425F. Gently brush top of rolls with some melted butter. Bake for 12 minutes or until rolls are a light golden brown. Brush with melted butter again after baking, if desired.

I make these to use for buns for deli sandwiches. But they’re great with just some butter for plain old dinner rolls, too, and go really well with soups and stews. I’m not sure how they’d fair for use as hamburger buns as they might be too sweet, but I’ll probably try it and find out. They’re pretty darn yummy anyway, I must say.

Lots of chores and errands to make up today considering that I spent the last two days mourning the end of our kink-fest. *sniffle*

We didn’t take just a whole lot of pictures this time. Too busy doing it to worry about the camera (though I do have some clips I need to put up, mainly that face fucking clip that those other pictures came from. Srsly, that was the best face fucking session we’ve had yet, imo. It was teh awesome and the movie is great.), although Master is adding pictures to his Fetlife profile that I would happily remove. Bastard.

But I’ll share this real quick:

On Saturday night, Master got some instructions on rope work from Alderon, a dude from our local munch. It was the first time we’d really spend any time with him and his girl (and for real, does it ever get easier to go from “Hello, nice to meet you.” to “Strip, cunt”? I mean, honestly!) and I just have to say, again, that the kink group up here is phenomenal.

Anywho, he tied me up. And it was good.

Hopefully, this will inspire Master to do more bondage. I heart bondage. Master’s use for bondage seems to begin and end at “functional”. A quick wrap here and there to keep me accessible, loop it around a bedpost or a hook and off he goes.

Though, really, I guess that’s the point.

It was pretty though. And I got goosebumps cuz rope is yummy. (Plus I was naked and cold, but it was from the rope!)

So, that’s all I got today. :-)

~cunt

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For Whom the Bed Calls

Some days

looming astronomical orthodontist bills and family cell phone plans(which one, ffs??) and four forgotten baskets of laundry with MOM!-I-need-to-wear-this-today! and rabies shots and what-the-fuck-is-that-squeal-coming-from-the-car?? and seventy-eight-freaking-dollars for one tank of gas and a 3-day a week part-time job that is suddenly SIX days a week plus twice on Tuesday(!!) and, btw-mom? I’m-flunking-algebra and scheduled child support court cases in another state with lawyers who won’t return fucking phone calls and menstrual cycles that have me BEGGING for menopause because I’d like to rip my cramping uterus straight out through my abdomen wall and beat it against the floor

days when you wonder why in the HELL did I get out of bed today?

And then Master pops in unexpectedly, just time for a hug and a kiss and an I-love-you-cunt, puncuated with a nipple tweak and an ass slap and dang, doesn’t that just make the day better?

Well, that – and a double dose of Midol.

:D

~cunt

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Monthly PMS Rant(s)

I mustn’t break tradition and suffer in silence. I shall generously share with you.

 Things that piss me off, December 2007.

 1. Recipe sites that allow for posting reviews of the recipe. It’s not the review itself that’s irritating because when trying a new recipe I rather like hearing some opinions on it. What is irritating as fuck are the people who write something like this: “I gave this a 5 star rating! I did make a few changes though! I used diced tomatoes instead of soup, canned potatoes and carrots instead of noodles, beef broth in place of the water, added garlic powder for more flavor, only a 1/2 a pack of taco seasoning, and leftover pot roast instead of ground beef. It turned out great!”

WTF! That’s not a review of the original recipe, it’s a review of your own fucking recipe. You have to add a little more salt, or liked it better the next day, or thought it was too spicy, you can do a review. If you’re changing more than 4 main ingredients, you’re making a new dish. Write it on your own recipe site. ‘tard.

2. This journal pisses me off. But that’s old news.

3. My neighbors, who think that WE are the odd ones because we don’t think it’s a fun time to sit on the front porch and get slobbered-up drunk like a bunch of white trash morons. I don’t refer to my kids as “jeagermiester babies!” and then cackle like letting your child know he was a drunken mistake is humorous. I don’t think pizza hut is a career, (especially if you’ve worked there for 19 years and are still a waittess. Bet I make more painting clothespins. Ha!). Nor do I buy weed for my teenager, or think having the cops parked at my curb is “cute”. But mostly, we’re weird because I don’t work. Welllll… maybe if you’d all stop spending a paycheck on beer and poker, you could quit your minimum wage “careers” too.

They’ve finally stopped inviting us over for white trash poker night and we all live in relative peace. We wave if we’re outside, which is plenty more interaction than I care for as it is. Gah. Even if I wanted to be social, it wouldn’t be with them.

4. People who write post after post after post about the problems in their life… and do NOTHING to change it. At first, I’m all kinds of sympathetic. A year later, same whining, same woe-is-me? Piss off. I can only listen to you crying in your cheerios for so long. You aren’t helpless, you aren’t a child, ain’t nothing going to fix itself. Get off your ass and change or shut the fuck up. Self-pity is HIGHLY unattractive, don’t wonder why you are still alone.

5. Bell ringers. If I want to donate I will but don’t guilt me into it. That completely ruins my giving spirit. I like the bell ringers who do a gentle tinkle. I do NOT like those who rattle it like a freakin cow bell the very second you come into earshot, who lift it up and shake it in front of you when you walk by, or who flash you dirty looks if you walk by without poking money into the slot. I have no problem with charities and we do more than our fair share of donating, but Jesus, it hardly feels like a charitable donation when I feel “attacked” going in AND out of the store. Back off already.

6. Senseless violence and the media for turning it into a circus. I’ve made this rant before. If they’d stop making these murderers famous, they’d stop doing it for that reason. What was the shooter in Nebraska’s note? “I’ll be famous now” or something like that.

And senseless stupidity that results in someone else’s death. A few weeks ago, a woman babysitting six kids left them in a running van while she went in to the store. The van caught on fire. A nine-month old and a two year old died, three other children were hospitalized in critical condition. Two families are burying their children when they should be buying them Christmas presents.

I remember watching a news story a few months ago, detailing the events of another shooting not far from here. A man, involved in a spat over an ex-girlfriend, walked into a house where a little party was going on and started shooting. 6 people were killed, all of them high school aged kids. You get so used to hearing it anymore that you become numb to it. I was really only half-listening to the broadcast when they ran a clip of an interview with the mother of one of the victims, a 14 yr old girl. (Don’t get me started on the gall it takes to stick a camera in the face of a woman, standing on the street, who has JUST learned that her daughter is dead) What she said nearly broke my heart and I haven’t yet gotten it out of my head. She said “I haven’t seen her yet. Maybe she’s hiding out somewhere waiting until it’s safe to come out.”

So sad.

Well now I don’t feel like ranting anymore. Now I want to hug my kids.

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A Polite Request

Dear My Uterus,

 WOULD YOU BLEED ALREADY YOU WHORE!!!

Sincerely,

Libido and Masochism

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Grr.

Excuse me for a moment while I bitch.

I’ve just vacuumed a pound of black dog hair off of my once-upon-a-time-it-was-white furniture, AND scrubbed off enough food-smeary fingerprints and potato chip crumbs to make a damn meal out of.

Nobody -and no animal- is setting foot in the living room ever. fucking. again.

I’ve already screamed and yelled at the kids for numerous and various reasons amounting to them being lazy and ungrateful spoiled heathen spawn.

I’ve vowed never to do their laundry again. Why should I? It’s just tossed on the floor and sent back to me all trampled and wrinkled anyway.

When I made the bed this morning, I unlocked the chain from the headboard and threw it in the toy box in disgust. It’s never used anymore. It just dangles there and mocks me. (but then I smartened up and put it back. but i glare at it plenty.)

By the way, I have pms. And Master is on His way home. I hope to God He fucks it outta me. Jesus.

~cunt

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