HEY SO GUESS WHAT?!

I’m gonna move in with my friend Anne.  Probably by the end of this month.

She’s got a 2-bedroom condo that will put me about a half hour closer to work.  We’ve lived together several times before, too, so we’re the kind of comfortable where you leave the bathroom unlocked while you shower so the other person can pee in the morning.

SWEET.

I’m really excited about this.  REALLY excited.  I’m not as excited that my brother, Harrison, has decided to move to California.  In two weeks.  Somewhat randomly.

But, hey, that’s just how he operates.  He’s an artist.  And, anyway, his industry (the movie industry) is out in that direction.  So I know it’s good for him.  I’m just really close to my bro.  We’re best friends.  Bleh.

ANYWAY…  The reason I can afford to move in with Anne and still save money to move in with The Man eventually is that I’ve got a bit of… Uh… “Side work” goin’ on.  I can’t tell you what it is.

(I’m rather hoping you’re going to assume I’m a drug kingpin, though.  So if you are undecided about what your Chloe-mental-image was going to be for this situation, I urge you to choose “drug kingpin” and fear me evermore.)

I’m hoping with this source of income, and the opportunities it provides (bustin’ caps in asses, etc.) will help me gain a career, rather than just a job.  You know?

And I’m so happy to be living with Anne.  We’ve known each other for about 15 years now, have lived together off and on starting in college, and she’s a vegetarian so it will be a meat-free house.  It’s a cute condo, too, and I’ve helped her do painting and decorating, so I think it will be easy to feel at home there.

But you know what? I’m hoping it doesn’t last long.  I’m hoping I can be living with The Man before 2010 is over. I’m hoping my new job helps.  I’m hoping, hoping, hoping.

If anyone  has any more questions, let ‘em rip.  You have precisely 29,233 minutes and 28 seconds  left before I will refuse to answer any and all questions.  You know me; I’m a hard-ass.

Now that I listed fingerprint classification as something that is one of the least important qualities, suddenly it has become Very Important to know.

Do any of you know OFFHAND which fingerprint classification your SO(s) have?

I have no idea.

I know I have loops.  I have no idea what Antonio has.  It strikes me as the kind of thing you could go 50 years without knowing about your partner.

Now I must know.  I’m going to have to grab a hold of his hand next time I see him, because I think he’ll revel in not telling me if I ask him to look and tell me.

And if I press the matter, he’ll probably tell me he can’t tell me due to matters of national security just to make me sputter and attempt to justify it as a Very Important piece of information. Which I won’t be able to do.  Which is why I’ll need to grab his hand and see for myself in person.

(I think I got through all the current questions.  If there is anything you are dying to know, ask away!  I’ll be updating with New and Fun Things in my life soon, too.)

From DK:

Where do you see yourself a year from now? five? ten? include your job/career, Antonio, where you’re living, hopes, dreams, whatevers.  (Also, from j, “Where do you see yourself in 2 years?”) 

I see all sorts of stuff for myself.  I see myself moved in with Antonio within a year, In two years I see myself actually working on a career rather than a job.  In five years, I see myself married, and not living in the middle of the country – give me a coast or give me death!  In ten years, I see myself panicking over approaching 40.

But, really?  If I think back five years and pretend someone asked me where I saw myself today… Well, I’d have been SURE I would be rotting beneath the ground, a young suicide. 

Hell, I actively tried to make that one a reality and couldn’t manage it.  So what the hell do I know about the future?  Nada mucho, that’s for sure.

My biggest hope is that no matter what happens, my love for life, my tolerance and compassion for all living beings, and my ability to weather storms all stick with me.  I don’t want to be where I was five years ago.  Or ten years ago.  I want to keep WANTING to live.

What do you like to wear? Are you a tomboy or a girly-girl in terms of wardrobe; or somewhere in-between?

I guess somewhere in between? I’m terrible at describing my style!  I like looking pulled together but like I could actually go DO something, not just hang around attempting to look a certain way.

What do you rank as the most important quality or qualities in a guy in a relationship? Least important?

Most important qualities – intelligence, confidence, humor, attraction, loyalty.

These are important because I want to learn from, respect, laugh with, desire, and trust my partner.

(By confidence, I mean an APPROPRIATE level of confidence.  Confidence is laughable when it’s baseless.  By attraction, I mean that certain something that just DRAWS you to a person, not necessarily physical beauty, but presence, I guess.  And by loyalty, I don’t mean “monogamous,” I mean a man who is loyal to his word, his principles, his family – whatever matters to him TRULY matters.  A man with drive, if you will.)

Least important qualities – Whether his fingerprints classify as loops, whorls, or arches… Which leg he puts into his pants first… His feelings about face painting at fairs… His ability to quote Full Metal Jacket… Whether or not he feels 11:11 is an appropriate time to shout “it’s STICK time!” and celebrate by making a wish.

(I realize most people would probably say things like, “skin color” or something.  But to me, that’s not something that happens to be really far down the list of important things.  It’s not on the list at ALL.  There’s a difference.  These things?  They are important.  They’re just… You know, LEAST important. )

From what activity or hobby do you gain the most? What fills you up emotionally the most? What gives back the most? (If this is not clear, please forgive me! Let me know and I will try rewording it) 

My favorite thing, or one of my favorite things, I only got to do for a year.  I volunteered to tutor ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) and spent a year helping people break the language barrier.  What AMAZING people they were.  I’d love to do that again.

There is something else I do currently that I find really rewarding, but I ain’t allowed to mention it here. Hmph.

From impy:

If you could have as many ‘pink’ things as you like in the world, what would your world look like? 

Well.  I wouldn’t bathe in pink, that’s for sure.  I’d accent my life with pink, in really stunning ways.  I’d get pink accents throughout my home and wardrobe.  I’d indulge in a lot of pink nail blushes and lip stains.  And I’d definitely get a pink Cadillac, like Elvis.  That shit was sweeeeeet.

From (not-so)vanillamom:

oh! piercings and/or tats? 

I have eight piercings (three in each of my ear lobes, one in the cartilage of my left ear, and a tongue ring).  I used to have nine piercings, but the second tongue ring didn’t last very long. 

Other piercings will be at Antonio’s discretion. But his first choice (the second tongue ring) was a crappy one, so I dunno if he’ll be going for more any time soon.

I have no tattoos and I’ve never wanted a tattoo.  I really dislike them.  Not in general, just on me. (Well, okay, I hate some tattoos on other people.  You have to wonder what in the hell a few of them were thinking and/or smoking…)

The natural processes of human skin are much more beautiful and interesting to me than pouring ink into it.  Scarring, tanning, stretching, healing, etc. I like the idea of branding and scarification.  If Antonio decided on giving me a brand – I’d want him to do it.  There is no point, in my mind, of representing ownership like that if someone else makes the mark.

From subtle:

Did you google all that trivia about PB or is that just stuff swimming around in your head??If it’s the latter, you’re awesome.

First of all, I’m awesome ANYWAY. Hmph.

Of the twelve things I listed, ten and a half of them were just swimming around my head. (Had no idea about the shaving, YouTube let me know.  And I do buy packets of peanut butter and keep them in my car, but I had no idea they fed kids in starving countries with it.)

Of the ten and a half swimming around my head, I’ve personally done (or had done to me),almost all of them.  (I’ve never had reason to assassinate anyone via a peanut allergy, sadly.)

Everything other than murder and shaving, I’ve pretty much done on a REGULAR basis for myself or for kids I nannied.

From j: 

What is stopping you from moving to be with Antonio?

(I combined these, since they seem to be similar.)

What’s stopping me from moving?  His say-so. 

What’s stopping his say-so?  Money.  (I think. That, or he hates me.)

If Antonio lived alone, I don’t think it would be an issue.  I’d just move in with him.  He doesn’t, though, so moving to be with him requires us getting a new place.  So that’s first, last, security, moving expenses (I’m coming from 1,000 miles away), AND be secure enough that I can look for a job and know I won’t get paid right away. The economy has bitchslapped quite a few people, us included, and it’s just a financial clusterfuck to think about shelling out all kinds of cash right now and giving up my job.  Christ, it makes me nervous just to type it.

The good news is we’re saving money!  I wish we could save faster, but it’s good enough to know we’re saving and not going into the red or just breaking even.

Have you thought of looking for a Dominant closer to You?

Nope.

A Dom might be easy to find nearby, but it’s inconceivable to me to imagine giving up what I have in favor of literally anything else, no matter how geographically convenient it may be.

I’m owned by and am in love with an amazing man.  He didn’t just save my life – he made it worth saving.  (I’m not given to super-cheesy statements, so I hope this doesn’t get skimmed over as sappy bullshit.  I mean it, heart and soul.)  

I don’t consider distance or  inconvenience  to be deal-breakers in a relationship like this one.

If I did, Antonio would be shit out of luck if he ever got paralyzed or were contracted for an overseas job or something. (I should probably start reminding him of that more often.  He’s so lucky.)

Next, from bel:

If U were to change your name what would it be? (First, middle and last name N WHY!)  Hercules J Millionaire.  No, the J won’t stand for anything.  And yes, I know that’s a dude’s name. It’s just so amazing.

If you discovered you were alone on the planet what would you do?  (This sounds like I wake up one day and suddenly I’m the only human… And the day before, everything else was normal.  That’s how I’m interpreting the question, at least. You WILL be sorry you asked, I promise.)

First, I’d gather the arsenal of guns and ammunition in my father’s basement (in case of animal attacks!) I’d take plenty of clothing and blankets, candles, the flashlights that self-charge by being shaken, and a U.S. Atlas.   And because I’m sentimental, some family photos. 

Then I’d leave my house, for good.

I’d get in my car and drive to the city.  Specifically the library.  I’d spend a few hours frantically gathering books concerning: wilderness survival in various climates; turn-of-the-century farming , building, and hunting practices; global wind and weather patterns; and nuclear power plants in the continental U.S.

I’d get out of the city as fast as possible because explosions (from  would be forthcoming.  As soon as I was clear of the major city, I’d loot a grocery store.  I’d cram a stolen car (with lots of room but decent gas mileage!) full of non-perishables and water, as well as various prescription medications – mainly antibiotics, pain killers, and multivitamins. Then I’d go siphon enough  gas into containers to make sure I could go for a LONG time if I hit a rural stretch with no cars!

I’d get somewhere as rural as possible and hunker down to research.  I’d have fewer than 10 days before the nuclear power plants explode (just a regular explosion, not a nuclear one) and radiation will be a BIG problem, moving across large areas on the wind, and drawn down to the ground by rain.  If I got the right books, figured out the plant locations and typical weather patterns, I might be able to avoid the majority of that.

I’d find the safest area according to my research, and I’d make it my business to survive. If there were any Amish communities in a safe area, perhaps there.  They would probably be slightly better equipped households and farms, ready to work without electricity or fancy machinery!

Clearly, I’ve thought about this before.  I like your scenario better than mine.  Usually, I imagine I have some genetic mutation that allows me to survive a plague or zombie apocalypse, so there is a whole lot of danger and rotting corpses to deal with during my escape to a survivable area. 

I’m nothing if not practical, paranoid, and prepared.

5 things you would like to do with (for?) Antonio? 

• Learn massage, so I can give decent ones.
• Get branded.
• Go on a seriously awesome vacation.
• Win the lottery.
• Become thinner, prettier, and more confident.

Chocolate or Fruits? Both.  Together.  And right now.

From subtle:

1. Can you please explain to me the American fascination with peanut butter?   I can try. It’s awesome stuff.  Besides being one of those foods that tastes good with TONS of stuff (everything from melted over ice cream to brownies to celery to stir-fried veggies to toast to apples!), it has many uses too.  

You can use peanut butter to…

• Kill people who are allergic to peanuts.
• Make cookies.  Really, REALLY good cookies. And other desserts.
• In fact, you can sub peanut butter in for butter in nearly every recipe – so go crazy! Try it in your next batch of brownies, or how about a peanut stir fry sauce?  Mmmmm!
• Make pinecone birdfeeders.
• Get gum out of your hair.
• Give your dog medication she would otherwise NOT take, even when put in her food. (On that note, when you need your dog to be SILENT and you have company or something?  Give her an empty jar  – she’ll lick it for ages.)
• Add a tablespoon to a chocolate/banana smoothie and die of happiness.
• Shave!  According to YouTube, it’s cheaper and better than shaving gel.  The oils keep your skin soft, and it gets just as close a shave.  Sweet. 
• Remove sticky crap left by price tags
• Rid your home of any bad cooking smells like burned food or fish – just plop a bit in a hot pan and the  yummy smell of peanut butter will offset the crappy smell!
• Lubricate stuff!  Garbage disposal, lawn mower, whatever needs to be lubed.
• Stick packets of it in your car.  If you have water, you won’t die.  In fact, they use special peanut butter packs to feed starving kids in certain countries because it tastes great and stays fresh for two years.
• (I could do this forever. Peanut butter is THAT awesome.  But I’ll stop now!)

2. If you knew then what did you did now, what would you change?

Just ONE thing.  And I wouldn’t change it until, I dunno, a few months from now.  Everything in my life brought me to where I am now, so I don’t want to mess that up!  But, sometime this year?  I’d win the lottery. Fuck yeah, I would.

3. Ultimate FAIL moment so far of 2010?

Shit.  I can’t think of one.  2010 is young, though, I’m sure there will be plenty.

(Okay, that’s all for today!  DK, I didn’t skip your questions, and j, I didn’t skip the one of yours… I just figured one was similar between the two of you, and I’m gonna combine them for the next installment!)

YAY!  You guys are asking me questions!  YAYAYAYAY!

Here are answers to the most recent crop a few.  (Sorry, I meant to be able to get through them all. But it turns out four hours of slightly inebriated sleep is not quite enough. I’m dragging and I need to nap.)

Greta:  Would you ever consider finishing your VFFF, or better yet, starting a new one?

I would.  I SHOULD.  I want to.  It was fun! 

It was a pain in the ass, too, but still.

I need to locate my camera (it’s been missing for months; I had to borrow my brother’s to shoot most of the VFFF stuff before.)  I could use an extra chunk of motivation to keep myself on track, food-wise.  I’ve kind of been thinking about an excuse to start this up again.  You have provided the perfect one!  Thank you, Greta.

The next batch of questions is from my Itty.  Who lives to make me huff indignantly while suppressing a grin, it seems. (: Luff u <3

1 – do you ever consider using a very small vacuum cleaner to hoover your computer keyboard? Hahahahahaha! You said “hoover.”  You’re so cute and British!

two – have you ever, or would you ever, chuck an alcoholic drink in someone’s face because they’re being retarded?  I haven’t (that I can remember…)  I think I would consider it something of a personal failure if I ever had to, though.  I pride myself on being able to reduce people to tears with only my words.  If I had to throw a drink to make a point, it would mean I failed at making that person want to die with my venomous words alone. 

c – all art is completely useless. discuss.  Tsk.

iv – if you had to choose between chocolate and vanilla for the rest of ever, which would you choose, and why? please give a vast amount of detail.  I’m going to answer this one while answering the previous question. (I’m doing an interpretive dance about the chocolate/vanilla debate, you just can’t see it. It’s really quite good.)

*high-five* – how are you? I’m tired.  VERY tired. I went out last night. Anne took me to dinner, then we met up with Harrison and Jackson and went out for drinks.  Shot names never fail to amuse me, btw… Mainly because they allow me to say things like “I had a dirty girl scout last night.” Now I’m trying to figure a magical way to nap before going in to work.  Magic is necessary because I don’t have a bed. 

Seis – is calvin and hobbes a social commentary, or an excuse for silliness?  WEIRD.  Harrison and I were just talking about Calvin and Hobbes.  We dog-eared so many Calvin and Hobbes collections.  Man, what a great comic.

Oh, anyway, it’s BOTH.  Duh!

Se7en – will you make me a cup of tea?  Of course!  But I don’t have any honey, honey.  I have agave nectar.  Or sugar.  Or, hey, wait, my dad might have honey. Yes, he does.  We’re all set. 

(I can’t believe I actually shouted and asked my father if he had honey.  I’m clearly very, very tired.)

subtle:  What would you have for your last meal?

I would choose a smoothie made with frozen bananas, coconut milk ice cream, and chocolate soy milk. Maybe some peanut butter in there too.

If you’d asked me 6 months ago, it would have been a large artichoke with nice sauces to dip the leaves in.

I’d probably change my mind on this one until the last minute.

weirdgirl:  Has ANYTHING ever rendered you speechless? If so, what was it? If not, lol.

I really couldn’t think of anything.  Sad, right?  So, you know what I did?  I searched my gmail.  Here’s what I came up with:

ME: You ARE romantic! Like that time you…. Um….  *scratches head*  Did some stuff…?  And it was… Uh… Yeah.

ANTONIO:  I know. I leave you speechless. I’m good.

I’m pretty sure Antonio wouldn’t know romance if it took him out to a candle-lit dinner and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.  Or if he does know a thing or two about romance, he’s guarding the knowledge like it’s a matter of national security.

In fact, while he’s generally a really great guy, I’ll confess that sometimes I think he isn’t even 100% sure how to be NICE, never mind romantic.

For example… I was in the bathroom, sick as a dog, puking my brains out for the third or fourth time one day, going on the second or so day of being so ill.  He sure as shit did not come to hold my hair back, see if he can get me some water, or even ask if I’m okay.  He lay in bed and announced things like “Shut the door!” so he didn’t have to hear it.

I dunno where he gets the nerve to not wait on me hand and foot.

subtle:  1. Is there was one thing you could do or one skill you could have what would it be?

I wish I had photographic memory.  But I know people who have it generally complain and say it can be hard to deal with.  So I guess I’d like to have willful photographic memory that I could turn off and on.

subtle:  2. Tell us of the losing of the virginity!!! (yes, I need details…)

Blergh.  I don’t like talking about this one.  Let’s just say it coincided with some serious self-hatred and the discovery of that “I don’t caaaaaaaare, I’m floooooooatyyyyyy!” feeling that comes with being shitfaced.

subtle: 3. What would your pornstar name be?

I used a generator online.  It claims I’d be Chandelier Bounces.  I am somewhat disappointed.

I need MORE questions, people.  This is it.  This is your chance.  Ask me random stuff.  Ask me for help on your homework.  Ask me about my feelings concerning Dexter.  Or, you know, ask me things about my relationship or BDSM or “related” stuff.  Bring it people!

It’s March.  Ask me questions.  I need the distraction.

Last Wednesday, we had to put my dog down. I don’t really want to talk about it because… I just don’t.  Seventeen years is a long time to feel loved and be in love with a pet.  A very, very long time.  I can’t talk about it right, and I can’t talk about it right now.

Oh, and my birthday was yesterday.  That was an unadulterated failure. I’m in a lot of pain right now, from losing my doggie, and for that I can barely get more than an, “Uh… That sucks… Moving on now!” out of most people.  My father insists on asking for details about that morning because he wasn’t here.  It takes every ounce of patience I have not to literally scream at him.  Jesus, get your fucking fingers out of my open wound, you fucking asshole.

Anyway, I’m miserable.  I do a good job covering it up – I’ve had a lot of practice.  But the littlest thing can reduce me to choking sobs and stinging hot tears. 

And virtually everyone I know takes that opportunity to… wait for it… TOTALLY ignore my birthday.

Sweet!

The ONLY person who sent me a card?  The guy I bought my car from years ago. 

No lie.  I’m apparently worth a card only to people who can use me to make money.  Interesting!

Both Antonio and my mother managed to say Happy Birthday to me.  (Oh, the guy I bought my car from also called and chatted and wished me a happy birthday.  He’s good like that.)  My mother took two tries.  She called once and forgot, then called back five hours later to say she was the worst mother ever. 

I forgive her because it took her 49 hours of labor to give birth to me.  I was an emergency C-section to save her life.  I very nearly killed her, so she gets a pass on  this, and basically all future birthday blunders.

My father and brother though?  They get NO pass.  I talked to the bro in the morning… Nothing… I sat around with Dad and Harrison last night, watching a movie… Nada.

It just… It makes me feel like SHIT.  I’d like them to say the words.  More than that, I’d like some ACTION to signify that hey, they were thinking about me.  Actions speak a whole lot louder than words…

I guess it’s selfish to want that…  I guess I’m selfish.  *shrug*

Antonio was attempting to cheer me up with a “it’s not a lack of caring, it’s a lack of finances” chat at one point.  And I get that finances prevent people from buying huge gifts (and I don’t want them anyway).  THAT’S FUCKING FINE.  But I refuse to buy the bullshit excuse of “no money” when it comes to an ACTION to show you care.  It doesn’t fly, period.  Sorry, if you have the money to buy cigarettes, or go out drinking with your friends, or take jiu jitsu classes, or buy your girlfriend a trillion dollars worth of stuff for Christmas…  Well, guess what, you financial genius? You can afford a motherfucking greeting card.  I KNOW you can.  What you can’t seem to afford?  Thinking about me for two seconds with enough advance notice to buy/mail a card.

And that hurts.  No two ways around it.

Jesus Christ, could it be any clearer that I could use some attention and kindness right now?  Fuck, I’m so whiny and sulky.  I’m annoying even myself right now.  It’s exhausting.

SO.  You know what?  You guys need to step up to the plate.  Ask me questions for March to give me the distraction I need.  You can comment, or you can email me at chloe (at) thenaturalorders (dot) com.  Okay?  Okay. 

My emotional well-being is in your hands.  Don’t drop the ball, kiddos… My brother has just gotten home with my girl’s ashes.

I ain’t going to Mexico.

*sulks endlessly*

It’s not actually all bad, it’s just… Stupid.  I won’t bore you with the whole story.  Basically, some stuff happened last minute with Foster, the guy who was going to care for the dog, and now he’s in the hospital for three weeks… Our old girl turned 17 on Valentine’s Day, so she’s WAY too old to tolerate being boarded, or being left alone for long periods.  Unless you want to clean dog pee and poop of your floor, that is. 

That, combined with the insane cost of having a stranger come live at the house and care for the dog (and the cat, and the rat), and Harrison separating his shoulder while trying to murder people in jiu jitsu… Well, then you have a really stressful situation.

We called the airline, and it’s a $300 fee to cancel both flights.  (Much cheaper than in-home dog care for a week, I can tell you that.)  So we’re doing that.  We then get to spend the $835.55 per ticket (yikes!) on another trip at almost any time, provided we book before December 27th of this year.  Harrison and I don’t have to go to Mexico, we don’t even have to travel at the same time or to the same place.

We probably will, of course, because this was a Christmas present from Mom.  So we’ll likely wait until she travels somewhere else awesome (or even back to Mexico, she found a place she REALLY likes and wants to go back) and take a vacation then.

Meh.

Secretly, I’m hoping Mom decides we should go to _______ for Christmas next year, and we have enough notice that the combined $1,600+ in ticket money Harrison and I have can be used to buy cheaper tickets somewhere awesome.  And since all Harrison and I have to do is buy a single ticket for ourselves somewhere, and the balance left over turns into a travel voucher that can be used for ANYONE… I’m hoping Mom says, “Hey, use that travel voucher to bring Antonio too!”

I’ve decided  a year from now, they should actually know each other well enough to not have a problem with us all going away together.

Or, you know, she can say I can just go away with him, and forget the family time… Mmmmm…

I lost most of my hours at work, though.  Since I put in for the time off and the place I work is single-staffed 24/7, my shifts have been snatched up.  But the pregnant chick at work is all tired and grouchy (she’s due March 25th) and having Braxton-Hicks contractions and seems to want to take a bit of time off.  So I’ve grabbed a shift Saturday the 27th she was supposed to cover, and most likely will have a shift Sunday the 21st because I have the distinct feeling another girl is gonna call out sick.

I’m clairvoyant!

In other news… Huh.  I don’t really HAVE other news. 

The Man sent me a video link today that I’m dying to watch, but I haven’t been alone to do it.  All he said was, “I saw this and thought of you. It’s a good approximation of your life-to-be (except for the part with the other girl.)”

The URL has the words “his wife and slave” in it.  Needless to say, I’m intrigued.  (My hormones inform me this definitely means he plans on marrying me one day.  *swoon*)

I had a super-sweet dream the other day.  I am in the habit of sharing my dreams, since I like to tell The Man about them, and I like hearing about his… He usually has way better dreams than I do – all kinds of adventure and excitement.  I dream about things like pulling cash out of a toothpaste tube with tweezers. (Not making that up, sadly.  That is the most recent dream I can remember.  And one of the least strange ones.  Antonio is of the opinion all the seven million medications I’ve been on have messed with my brain.  I “see” things behind my eyes when I close them at night.  And I giggle and tell him about them.  And he rolls his eyes and tells me it’s time for me to go to sleep because I’m getting insane.)

ANYWAY.  The super-sweet dream featured me sleeping in bed with The Man.  At my mother’s house.  In her bed, creepily enough.  I was really groggy for some reason, and he was trying to wake me up.  He was doing so by poking me in the mouth with his dick and saying, “Open your mouth.  Open your moooooouth!” until I did, and started Ultimate Blow Job Mouth Maneuvers.

Despite the fact that I usually dream as a combination of from my own vantage point and a floating-overhead observer, I couldn’t see more of him than part of his stomach, part of this thighs, and a whole lot of penis.

I loved how detailed my dream was, though.  When I woke up, I could practically FEEL the softness of his skin, the smoothness of the head of his cock, and the hardening of his flesh as he became erect and got uncomfortably larger in my mouth.  I could taste him, I could smell him.  It was wonderful, and it was hard (ha!) to drag myself out of bed after that.  I just wanted to head back to penis-dreamland.

Penis-dreamland is a wonderful world. 

But, lucky girl that I am, I have a Master who wants to make ALL my dreams come TRUE! 

(By “ALL my dreams” I obviously mean “ALL my dreams about morning blow jobs.  Or afternoon blow jobs.  Or night blow jobs.  Or 4:30am-go-the-fuck-away-I’m-asleep-you-insufferable-bastard blow jobs.”)

Okay, I gotta leave for work in about 20 minutes to make it for my midnight shift.  Everyone behave in my absence and don’t make fun of me for typos or incoherent thoughts or sentences that end midway through – I’m on my old computer, a few of the keys are sticking, and I don’t have time to proof this.

I’ll totally be back tomorrow to comment on those awesome First Words you guys shared.  I’m SO glad I asked that question, I am absolutely LOVING your answers!

I’m nosy, I’ll admit it.  Today, here’s what I want to know…

What were your first words to your significant other(s)?

Here are the rules I just invented for this little sharing-game:

1. I want first time face-to-face encounters only! Emails, texts, forum posts, or phone calls don’t count.  Maybe next time.
2. I really do want first words/phrases, but feel free to include words past the basic greetings of “Hey” or “Hello” or “Nice to meet you” to when you said, “You hair reminds me of a poodle” or whatever genius thing came outta your mouth.
3. NO context!  Seriously, don’t explain where you were or why you said it.  It’s funner if you don’t.
4. If you can’t remember, it’s okay.  You will not be shunned for too long.
5. If your partner spoke first or said something snappy after, you can include that too.

I’ll delete your comment if you can’t play by the rules!  I’M SO HARSH! 

Rawr! 

(Also, Itty, I want you to participate.  Or at least tell me later on msn. I’m terribly curious.)

And now, for my part…

My very first words to Antonio were, “Please don’t leave.”

I just HAD to share this.

I was outside on the patio with my brother yesterday, adding water to the hot tub (so the filter would start again, the little bastard.)

That’s when I looked down. 

And saw this… 

INSTANTLY, I ran back in the house, grabbed my phone, and began snapping pictures.

(In case you’re squinting at that photo wondering wtf is wrong with me, let me share a close-up of my discovery.)

Yeah…

Yeah…

YEAH…

We’re all seeing the same thing, here, aren’t we?  Good.

I started giggling madly, and my brother came over to see what I was doing. 

I apparently have no filter between my brain and my mouth because I pointed at the strange little ice formation and announced loudly, “It looks like a butt plug!”

(It took me a full minute to realize I should be horrified with myself, btw.)

Anyway, let’s all just ignore my absent brain/mouth filter and bask in the glory of my discovery…

For a brief moment in time on February the 10th, 2010, this glistening gift was bestowed upon the world.   Since then, the elements have destroyed this miniature marvel.  But we should all feel incredibly blessed to have been able to use the internet to share such a true miracle of nature. 

While the ice butt plug on my patio may have disappeared from the physical world,  I know that you guys, like me, will feel its mark on your heart indelibly.

*smiles winningly*

(You guys think I’m cool.  I’m sure of it.)