Happy New Year!

Well, we at Chez Lushly are off to celebrate the New Year at a party at our favorite Mexican place.. I would tell you which one, but it is crowded enought these days...

I have purposely selected a top that I know looks good on me that PK hates. Unfortunately for him, as I stepped out of the bedroom my girls "Ooohed" and rushed to tell me how pretty the top looked on me. I kind of knew that.. I had worn it out previously... at that time I wore it to dinner and had two gentlemen watch me during the entire meal... ahhh good times. Here it is when I wore it initially.... and my description of his attitude.

The kids have convinced me to let them spend the night after the festivities with my folks...

That means that I am going to get the full court press from PK for sex. Which I still don't feel like...

Well, that isn't true.. I want to have sex... I don't want to have it with him. Since he makes me feel so lousy about myself... lately when I do consent, I feel more like a whore than you can imagine.

Here is my wish.

You all spend the evening with someone that you love or even just want, who makes you feel good about yourself.

and that I can get out of this lousy feeling and be with someone who makes me feel like a beautiful, desirable woman.

Happy New Year!

sex and the preteen daughter

I know I have posted under this title before but this time te subject is slightly different. As I have mentioned before I have two daughters, Asha and Thara. Both are good girls who are growing up fast. Asha faster than I would hope.

She is not quite 12 but already attracts the attention of grown men and teenage boys when she walks down the street. She has been uncomfortable about these changes as you would expect, but completely aware of how hot she is.

Unfortunately, she assumes that everyone sees her for what she is... an 11 year old girl who is too physically mature for her own good and safety. See, like all kids her age she craves freedom. The kind of freedom that I had when I was her age. And I wish I could give it to her. I wish I could send her off on the bus and let her explore Chicago to her hearts content. But we know more about the world these days. (I refuse to say that it is a different world, I think that these things always exsisted we just covered them up)

I have on occasion allowed her to go with friends to the park. The last time, she decided to wander around the neighborhood with her friends.. I think they covered 5 miles of territory. The worst part is that she ended up at the home of a classmate. A boy. Now, don't get me wrong, Quito is a nice boy. His parents seem to be raising him well.. but he is a boy. And like Asha, is a bit too mature for his age.

You know what that sounds like to me?

TROUBLE.

When I picked Asha up I discovered that the Quito's parents were not at home.

Now, I am sure that this was a completely innocent outing. And nothing happened.

But, she cannot be allowed to go to hang out with boys at their homes without their parents home to supervise.

When I pointed this out to Asha she got very upset. "What did I think was going to happen? That she and Quito were going to have sex??"

She was even more angry when I pointed out that she wouldn't be the only pregnant 11 year old in Chicago.

There has to be some way to explain this to her without potentially calling her a slut (which I didn't)... But how?

You must be joking

I couldn't believe it when I heard it last night...

PK: "Maybe over the next day or so, we could have sex?"

What?

Me: "For the last week, at every opportunity to let me know that I am lazy, stupid, vindictive and ugly ... and that was FOREPLAY?

Um... let me think.

NO!"

Was that the end of it?

No, this morning I got the caress that usually accompanies the request for not quite awake sex...

PK: "Want to fool around?"

I thought to myself, "Didn't you understand me last night? NO."

Me: "Yesterday, you treated me as if I were an idiot incapable of dressing herself, Monday you told me to get over a wrong you did me that you never even tried to correct and Sunday, while you were sitting on your ass watching football, you complained that I was holding you up by taking to long to cook... Oh and I made you dinner that night too..." "Why would any of these things lead me to want to make love?"

PK: "Well you tell me when things don't look good on me"

Me: "When you ask for my opinion... Your's was unsolicited"

PK: "You would want me to tell you the truth!"

Me: "Why can you only hurt my feelings and make me feel lower than dirt when you 'tell the truth'?"


Good thing we are make progress in communication, eh?

How stupid am I?

Apparently not smart enough to pick out an outfit on my own.

This is the outfit that I picked out for myself today... Surprisingly they were items picked out by PKs parents.

Of course, PK decided that I looked like a little old lady getting on the plane when you are in a hurry... You know the type? She and her husband of 80 years are wearing matching sweatsuits...

I am so tired of being treated like an idiot who is incapable of the simplest acts. I was online with a friend when the order to change my clothes came in. The questions that I got?

Will it cause a fight if I don't change: yes
Is it worth the fight? I don't know? What level of identity remains to me? If I am not deemed capable of dressing myself is there really any pointing in trying to pretend that I am a human grownup? What is next?

And what is the point of changing? Because he will find me more attractive? Hardly. That is an issue as dead as my self-esteem these days.

So what do I do? stay and be an idiot? or leave and be the same idiot with half the money and 4 times the pressure.

Do I pray for my husband's early demise so that hopefully I will be left as a widow with the basis to get back on her feet? And really what good will that do me? Since chances are he is driving me to an early grave. And then I will just be alone anyway. Left to suffer the fate I anticipate for myself... left to die alone and found 3 days later my brain having liquified and poured out of my nose and ear cavities and left as carrion for the dog, cat and flies to feast on...

Choices, choices...

A Question for Solomon.... or Os

I certainly don't know what to think anymore.

Once upon a time, LushlyMe sat in the back row, like Os. She had her own trombone that she got from a friend who had given it up... her instrument was old. The friend's family sold it to her family for a paltry sum... even by 1970's standards. It was old. The wrong color (rose brass), had an etched pattern on it that was like no other trombone that she had seen, kind of like this one, pictured... and it had a strange looking case. It was a rectangular cube... no indication of a bell and had a woven leather handle. Lushlyme thought this sucked, as it bit into the tender flesh of her hand. But such was life. It was hers.

Until her new husband, the Porn King, loaned her instrument to his former college room mate. Johnny was auditioning for Second City and though other, closer friends also played the trombone, those friends were using theirs at the time.

Can you guess what happened? Lushlyme's instrument was never returned. And though she has begged and pleaded that her PK implore his friend for its return.. those pleas have fallen on deaf ears. She even tracked the boy down and asked for the return of the trombone... and while the boy claimed that he would check at his parents house for the item, he never called back and never has been in town long enough for Lushlyme to track down again.

Now sadly at Christmas my father at the end of Christmas dinner, while discussing PK's Christmas gift from me, a Les Paul guitar, mentioned that we could now start a band... One daughter plays the guitar and the saxophone, another, the violin and clarinet, PK, the accordian and now the guitar and me? Well I could play my trombone. When I pointed out the impossibility of that, given the loss of my trombone was when the fun started.

See, PK doesn't want me to talk about my loss. He doesn't want me to talk about how, when or where. He wants me to "Get Over It". Now, I could. If he tried to get my trombone back and his friend Johnny said, "Dude, I am so sorry it got crushed, stolen, lost or hocked" I would have my closure. But I don't get that. I get, "Get over it" Which by the way is NOT in my nature.

So what happened? I wish I could say that I was drunk and things got out of hand... but I wasn't. And an argument broke out. The kind where everyone in my family argues at me to not upset the PK as he is the founder of our feast (to use a Dickensian term) and that just pissed me off more.

The fact that I got no support from my parents made me more upset. More than I can possibly describe. And as I got more upset and my language became more raw, my father-in-law reminded me of how and why I should mind my "Ps and Qs". In that tone of voice he uses to talk to idiots... or his own wife.

Well, I just exploded.

Not being a child, I pointed out that my use of language was none of his business. What did this get me? Well of course, The Porn King rushed to his father's defense. No one! NO ONE, even me, is allowed to speak THAT way to his father.

My older daughter can call me a whore with impunity but me telling his father to mind his own business is considered out of bounds in our family.

Charming, eh?

So near as I can tell here is the score card for the holiday:

No trombone.
No respect.
No loyalty.

Can someone describe to me why other than sheer stubbornness or masochism I am still here?

HNT-44 My Favorite HNT

As it turns out, the picture that was my favorite in 2006, I failed to post in HNT... What a dolt I am. Fortunately some of you did see it. And even though it is not in keeping with the rules, I am including it in my posting for today. I liked this picture because of the way the light is reflected and shadowed. Also, even though I would generally be uncomfortable showing so much of my body, the water was soothing and relaxing.

My favorite HNT posting was more recent and taken by my daughter who is a budding photographer... After looking at this picture I decided not to change my haircut. For now anyway...

From the Mouths of Babes

Here is the poem that my daughter wrote me for Christmas:

Lie is full of risks.
Take all of them.
Or as much as you can.
If you don't take them,
You will regret it.

So take a chance.
Live your life as you want.
Or regret your life.
Take the risk.
Live your life now!

Sometimes that girl is so insightfull that it scares me.

Of course, this just made me miserable the rest of the day and got me into trouble when I refused to let go of a wrong done to me later on...

Sigh.

All I want for Christmas

is for some one to slowly and methodically lick my clit until I cum so hard that I weep with relief...

Is that really too much to ask for?

I didn't think so either, and yet, I won't get it...

My wild weekend?

My apologies to Smooth Brad for the lateness of this posting..

Sadly my computer gave me nothing but trouble last week and this week too, in truth, and I have had difficulty posting virtually anything. Sigh.

The party that I attended was a delightful affair. I was particularly pleased with my dress... which I wore for the first time. One of the party attendees, a woman I have known for 20 or so years and dresses impressively in Chanel and St. John almost all of the time, complimented me on the beauty of the lace of my new frock. This was delightful to me.

Overall, it was a lovely evening of fine food, clever people and lots of tasty cocktails. All in all, a good time.

The next day, I got a very late start for my weekend. Why? The PK kept creating obstacles. No surprise there, I suppose.

Eventually I got downtown and checked into the hotel.

I got to my room and found two things.

A. I had no bathtub (a secondary issue)

and

B. I had no internet access. I couldn't even catch a bit of spare wi-fi...

In other words... a disaster.

Better yet? My cell phone battery was low and I forgot the charger in my haste.

I hadn't had high expectations for the night, but they just dropped exponentially... with the speed of pyroclastic blast down Mt. St. Helens fast and disaster wise. Truth be told, a friend of mine talked me into posting an ad on CL to see if I could find someone to hang out with. I have never done that before and figured at least I would be amused watching people in the bar wondering if anyone was looking for me.. ultimately the majority of the men that responded to my ad (before it was blocked as if I was offering prostitution services... this should have been my first warning of trouble to come) didn't pay the slightest attention to what I wrote... a couple that did, weren't interested in me once they discovered what I looked like... ultimately I figured that the chances were slim to none that anyone would be tempted by or be considered tempting by me. Still, I liked the possibility that I could be the kind of woman to be picked up in a bar... a sense that there was something of a temptress about me.

Instead. I spent the evening out of communication with the world with no tub to soak, cry and drink overly priced minibar chardonnay in. And yes, I know that sentence is wrong grammatically and I don't care.

I did go down to the bar. I took a book.. so that I didn't look totally pitiful, ate some lovely hors d'oeuvres and drank not the overly oaked aforementioned chardonnay but instead a fairly decent cheap pinot grigio. There were virtually no men there alone and the one that I saw, I discovered the next day was married.. no wonder I couldn't make eye contact... or maybe I just suck at it.

Ultimately, I left the bar, found my way back to my room and masturbated wildly while trying to imagine what I might have done had I had access to my computer to do something truly naughty... or I might have been thinking about what the guys from Myth Busters would look like naked and mid-orgasm. And yes, I get to keep to myself which Myth Buster I was fantasizing about the most.

Saturday, I was finally not alone, joined by my best friend who sadly for me is moving to Connecticut at the end of the week. Yes, I realize how much that sucks.. and yes, I realize that my life is descending into a suck fest. We did have a good day, having lunch, massages and then dinner out at Butter.

We loved our dinner and failed to behave like typical girls having a spritzer and a salad and instead feasted on the white truffle tasting menu and included the wine pairings. It was an amazing meal with excellent liquor and then we were invited back to the kitchen to meet the Chef, Ryan Poli and his staff.

We rolled back to the hotel and went to bed. Kind of sad, really. Sigh.

And that Brad was that. Sorry to disappoint.

HNT-43

It is a wrinkly, bloated day in the Christmas tree forest... Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday! and Happy Holidays... and if you insist on something more specific? Happy past Eid, past Diwali, Chanukah and Christmas... forgive me if I missed out on any religion...

HNT-42

I am getting excited.. Tomorrow I am off to a holiday party...

Then Friday I will be celebrating a weekend sans famille...Friday I will be alone... I have done this before, I go to a hotel spend some time at the bar where I am ignored then retire to my room. There I masturbate, dreaming of a tongue and teeth gently pulling on my nipple and a voice hoarsely instructing me to lift my hips higher as I roll my swollen, wet clit between my middle and index fingers. I will keep those fingers wet, not damp, as I swirl around and around my sensitive nub until I cry out... as the electricity jolting my body fades, I will rewet my fingers and reapply them to my body.. bringing me to the edge, then plummetting over again and again.

Is this as good as sharing with another human? God, no. But it is what I can depend on. Myself.

Memeing my sex life...

I saw this meme over at the Virgin Slut... and it made me laugh... so I thought I would play too.. Here are the rules:

-Copy this entire list into your blog/journal
-Bold everything that is true about you.
-Leave alone anything that is false about you.
-Place an asterisk by anything that you would like to be true about you.

I have had sex while wearing a blindfold.
I have blindfolded someone during sex.
I have had sex while watching porn.
I have had sex while surfing porn on the internet.
I sleep better after sex.
There are some nights when I can’t sleep without sex or masturbating.
The bed is Not my favourite place to have sex.
I get turned on knowing someone is watching me masturbate.
I have masturbated for someone over a webcam.
I have had sex over a webcam.
I will have sex with someone I just met if he/she turns me on.*
I have been tied up during sex.
I have had sex with someone who was tied up.
I have dripped hot wax on a lover’s body.
I have had a lover drip hot wax on my body.
I have a foot fetish.
I have a leather fetish.
I have a tickle fetish.
I like being choked during sex.
I have had sex in a burning building.
I have erotic art on display somewhere in my residence.*
I enjoy nudie magazines.
Erotic toys are a regular part of my budget.
I think PlayBoy is tame, maybe even boring. (that being said, I must keep my preteens from discovering it quite yet.. )
I have clicked on porn links in my email.
I know the difference between girl/girl and lesbian sex in porn.
I have watched more than one gay/lesbian porn film.
Much of what I know about sex comes from porn.
Interracial sex turns me on.
I think we should do more to understand the cultures of sex.
I would participate in sex research if given the opportunity. (it would be for science after all... )
My current lover does not meet my sexual needs.(which one? ;-) )
I currently have a crush on someone of the same sex.
I have had sex at my place of employment.
I am often disappointed in my sexual relationships.
Some people might describe me as a nymphomaniac.*
I am difficult to live with if I’m not having sex on a regular basis.
I sleep better with someone curled up next to me.
I have had sex underwater.
I have had sex in the snow.
I have had sex outdoors.
I have had sex in a public place or where I might have been discovered.
I have had sex in a bathroom stall. (I am too loud)
I have had sex in a car.
I am in a polyamorous relationship.*
I have to have music playing during sex. (how about just liking it...)
I have had more than 10 orgasms in one night.*
I have flashed strangers.
I have given sex as a gift.
I have set-up a three-way for my lover.
I stopped during this list to have sex.*
All day I dream about sex.

Never Forget

HNT-41

I have been very remiss in my HNT posts for the last couple of weeks... mostly because I have be hacking my lungs out for the last couple of weeks. I suspected that these would not be attractive shots and therefor avoided them...

Today, I decided to further my hair issue by offering a look at the locks as they are. The problem that I am having is that my hair looks beautiful in this shot (which btw was taken by my talented 10 year old... on another day, I will show some of her beautiful self portraits... they are taking my breath away and are completely age appropriate)

Anyway.. please tell me what to do with this freaking hair.. I have to chose something soon.

A New Me?

I have been feeling so yucky lately that I have decided it is time for a change... at least when it comes to my hair... after years of long hair that I have always loved, I now find that I am unable to get into the bathroom for longer than 3 minutes at a time in the morning... Clearly the long hair has become impractical... At the beginning I was goofing around with color too.. but I have decided on the chestnut auburn, so please feel to ignore the dark copper blonde...

Feel free to give me your opinion... I am going to take a couple of days to decide.

Oh, and I know that the base picture sucks. I mostly did it on purpose. I figured that if I could stand looking at the picture despite how sucky I look then it must be pretty good hair... so please refrain from telling me I look like a cow... I know. But I will be a cow with pretty new hair soon... so I guess that is an improvement, right?

When will it end!

I am so tired and sick... and tired of being sick. I will pull it together soon... I promise...

Assuming that anyone is even reading this...

Oy... I need to get better soon to at very least improve my bad attitude

Just a thought

I am sitting here watching late night tv, drinking jaegertee to calm my cough (truly for medicinal purposes... I am trying to stay off the sauce) and watching stupid commercials

"Do you find it hard to remember to take your birth control"
"Even those once a week patches?"

What?

Once a week birth control is too complicated? How will once a month make anything better? Because frankly, your problem seems to be that you are careless and forgetful. Changing the time frame is not your issue.

And if you can't remember even once a week to take your birth control are you really responsible enough to have sex?

I don't think so.

Just a thought

Sadness

I have been reading over the last couple of weeks a blog called Atomic Tumor. The last couple of weeks the entries have been about the illness of his wife. She fell ill around Halloween and went downhill very quickly. For a fortnight AT has poured out his heart about his love for his wife and his fear of having to live without her.

Unfortunately the worst has come to pass. His beloved wife, Barbara Jamie, was declared brain dead on Friday.

This made me unspeakably sad. Sad for him. Sad for their children.

But ultimately the love he was expressing for her made me jealous.

I doubt that I would be mourned so deeply. Maybe by my children. Although at this point they are past the age of loving me so deeply. I am mostly a thorn in their side that someday they would be mourn.

The PK? He would be taken up with the details. Pissed at me for leaving him with the part of life that he can't deal with... the domestic side. But miss me? Mourn me? I doubt it.

And that is unspeakably sad.

Well, that is interesting

Last week, I told PK that things sucked here on the home front. And that extended beyond the preteen bullshit that we have been dealing with. I told him that I needed some improvements. That I was tire of feeling alone in this marriage. That I was tired of watching him drink the way he has been and that I would have to find something for myself if things didn't change soon.

And off to work he went.

Well, I felt like an idiot. Find something for myself? Could I possible be more obtuse or euphemistic? Frankly, I probably could in all fairness. I do have a dramatic flair....What a dope. So later when he called from the office I clarified matters. Asked if knew what I was talking about... Yes, he did, according to him. I pointed out that I wouldn't be discussing this again and that I would not pre-warn him when I took a lover. Again, he stated that he understood.

And that was the last it has been discussed.

Today he took the preteen to the office with him. I was glad. I had dreaded spending the day with her. She was only going to complain about how cruel I was to her and of course, she would tell me what whore I was... since that seems to a constant refrain these days.

The tween, on the other hand had a volleyball clinic from 10:30 - 2.... so I had a lot of time to myself. What did I do with this time? Would you believe that I moved furniture around? Well, sadly it is true. By the time he got home I was exhausted. He was irritated with me. Because I was still in a bad mood. "What did you think I was going to do with my time," I asked. "I don't know... taken a bath or something" was the reply I got.

Or something?

Is that code for get laid?

HNT-40

See those wrinkles? They have been earned this week. Dealing with the preteen and her bullshit.

But I have taken control. Telling PK that if he wanted to argue with how I am dealing with the girl crisis, he could leave. He has chosen, for the time being anyway, to be supportive. In the meantime, anyway I am the object for all the preteen's anger and resentment. This week, I have been downgraded from whore to whorebag. Charming, eh?

I remember when being called a whore was an indication that I was getting laid and having some fun with my lover... Now it is just a bitter indictment.

As I wandered through the week considering each day how I was going to deal with the bullshit, I realized that I need to re-focus the girl inward, since to date it has been all about clothes, make-up and friends. I thought, why not find a bindi to put on her forehead, so that when she looked in the mirror she was reminded to look within herself. Then I realized that a bindi would be a pretty, decoration that would distract her. And that she wouldn't have the cultural awareness to understand the concept of the Hindu third eye that I was thinking about. (Yes, one of her complaints about me is that I know too much and that she can't be expected to know all the things that I do...Fuck it and suck it up is generally my response... at least give it a try, jeez)

But when I was looking a this picture I realized that maybe some of my introspection comes naturally. See on that second wrinkle? That is a dent in my forehead. My mother tells me that I got it when I was two. She was waiting for a cab, after grocery shopping. She was pregnant, tired, it was hot, the ice cream was melting and I was being fidgetty... she put me on her shoulders... and I immediately took advantage and stood up on her shoulders, and then fell, denting my forehead. The end result is that scar or dent as it is...

But in retrospect, perhaps that is MY third eye and I should rely upon it more at times like this.

Ahhhh, Sweet Relief

No children, no pets, no demands...

Just skin and tongues and hard penetration. Nibbling and sliding and candle light...

HNT-39

It's your fault you whore!

These are the words that I was assaulted with today.

What have I done to deserve this?

I used to work.. But I stopped because I was not able to deal with my responsibilities for the kids an those to my job given my husband's schedule. I did it for them.. And now I am called a whore.

And the worst is, I have the opportunities to fuck other men. I may be fat and old and ugly, but there are men that are still interested. I didn't fuck them today and I certainly don't charge for my services. I will give them away.... I would share. I am lonely and horny and begging to get a hundredth of what given to my family back in respect, love or companionship. Wouldn't that be better than being called a whore by a girl who fails two classes her first quarter of 6th grade and THEN fails two tests because she was caught cheating... and why the language? I removed her from the basketball team and cheerleading squad.

That will teach me.

Well it is official

At least according to Dr. Gail Saltz and Dr. Drew Pinsky...

They have designated my marriage as sexless...

Luckily I am in really good company as according to them, up to 20% of marriages are like mine. The good news is that there is a solution. It is called communication.

Oops. There is the problem. When I communicate my feelings, I am accused of dumping on him. So I stopped. And I wait. But nothing improves.

Lost Again

The stress level here may have dropped but it is not gone.

Yes, I managed to get construction loan fixed so that the contractors could be paid...

I then got to spend the next day making sure that the constractors WERE paid.

Then, just for fun, I got to go to school to help carve pumpkins, then attended parent teacher conferences, ran kids to parties and sleep overs all over the northern part of Chicago and dealt with stressed and over-served husband who at the 11th hour decided that he needed my help... He ddoesn't want me. Just my feet to help him get off. Not an act of love. Not even an act of mutual lust.

I am alone.

There is no one to touch me. No one to offer me comfort and love. No one desiring me for my unique gifts.

What am I to say? I need a life outside my family because they bring me no joy? I need a lover to rediscover the woman I used to be?

HNT-38

Oh ok.. most of the crises are over and I finally got some time to relax... for one whole hour before I had to pick up the kids from school... so I took advantage of it!

STOOOOPPPP!!!!

screwing with me that is.

I am tired. I have been running like a madwoman for the last couple of weeks.... We have travelled east twice this month. I have yelled at basketball coaches. I have corrected an out of balance loan. I have attended birthday parties and weddings. I provided the bride with an usher, altar server and the services of a personal undresser (hey, getting out of a wedding dress is a bitch) Found that my older daughter is failing not one, but two classes... wait until I find what else awaits on conference day... I have been to mass everyday this week.. creepy I know.. my other daughter has been an altar server all this week at 7:30am... Surprisingly, lightning has not struck nor have I acheived any enlightenment.

I give up. You will find me cowering in the corner...

HNT-37

This is a post similar to what I posted for Boobie-thon.com... why? Well, I did it for a couple of good reasons..

No, not those... although truth be told protecting my own breasts is a good reason too.... instead I was thinking about my family that I posted about previously.

So even though Boobie-thon is over, remember that the fight is not!

Because sex is all in the brain.

Using your mind Your sexual hidden talent is your ability to use your mind. Sex is mostly in your mind and to your partners delight you have mastered the arts of seduction and atmosphere. Take this quiz at QuizUniverse.com

Does this make sense to other men?

Let's say you are feeling sick. You have a cold (that you will subsequently pass on to your wife, thanks for nothing!). Does a handjob really make you feel better in any real way.. other than the obvious one, of course.

An anniversary of sorts...

It was on this evening twenty-two years ago that I lost my virginity.

I suppose it is unusual to be able to say this in this day and age, but it was to the man that is now my husband. The man now know as the Porn King. He was so hot for me then... How times have changed. I don't think that he even remembers.

You can decide for yourself if that is sweet or pathetic. I have heard opinions each way.

HNT - 36... On Reading

What is the last book you read? Not the book that you told Barbara Walters or Vanity Fair that you read... The real book.

The last couple of days have been frustrating to me because of this very subject. It started with this:

The Greater Washington Initiative created an ad campaign to advertise that their local workforce are highly educated. How did they do it? Juxtaposing the image of two commuters. One is reading a romance novel, the other Plato's Republic.

This set off a flurry of commentary at one of my favorite websites Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Novels . They believe, rightly so that one's reading choices are no indication or their intelligence or even their educational level. Of course, this has opened them (us, as I consider myself among their numbers) to further ridicule in the Washington Post and the New York Times.

Now don't get me wrong. I have read Plato. The Republic, The Symposium, The Protagoras (now THAT is a tough read). I have read Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides, Aristophanes, Cicero, Virgil, Pliny, Tacitus, Thomas Aquinas, Justin Martyr, Gelasius, Augustine, Jerome, The Venerable Bede, Abelard and Heloise, Machiavelli, Petrarch, Montaigne, Galileo, Newton, Knox, Calvin, Luther, Pascal, Cromwell, More, Diderot, Robespierre, Murat, Mazarin, Bentham, DeToqueville, John Stuart Mill, Franklin, Paine, Hegel, Thoreau, Alcott, Emerson, Marx, Engels, Neitzsche, Weber, Bismarck, Herzl, Chamberlain, Petain, Freud, Keynes, Hitler, Churchill, Lenin, Sartre, and Chomsky. I am highly educated. If I do say so, myself, there are not many people more educated than I.

But I also read crap. I read mysteries, thrillers and chick lit... Hell, once I even tried to read Ann Coulter (I don't recommend it.. she doesn't make alot of sense and is exceptionally shrill)!

I also read romance novels. THERE! I said it! I read my first when I was in 7th grade... so I guess that would make me 12 or so. Lady Vixen.... by Shirlee Busbee. I still remember it. My friends and I passed it around... we devoured it. It went from Debby to Donna, to Emily to Carol to me eventually... I was a year younger so they made me go last. Oh what book. It ruined me for other romance novels, really... Since then I need a much higher quality... better plots, better writing and hotter, much hotter sex.

Should I be ridiculed for my choice of reading materials? I don't think so.

Do my reading materials indicate any lack of intellect on my part? Definitely not. I am currently reading a book about evolutionary biology (Sex, Time and Power by Leonard Shlain) and a romance novel (Again the Magic by Lisa Kleypas)

Oh, and any guy reading Plato on the train is an insufferable show-off. No one can truly read for deep understanding in that environment. Trust me. So maybe a guy like this is turning the pages, but he isn't understanding it...

That puts it in perspective

I had lunch with my senior year prom date recently. It was nice to be able to sit down with someone that you haven't seen in 20 or so years and feel comfortable, but that is where we were. This is not to imply that I am meeting men for lunch all the time. I don't. But He and I were friends for a really long time. We saw the King and I at Kleinhan's Music Hall back in the early 80s. (apparently the broadway debut of this round of the King and I occurred in January 1985.... we must have seen him in '84)

We also went to see Camelot, with Sir Richard Burton (the actor, not the explorer.... yes, I am dork enough to know about the explorer and am currently reading a translation of his version of the Arabian Nights...) During that expedition to the O'Keefe Centre in Toronto, we broke into the upper balcony for dress rehearsal and heard them go over the number, "Fie on Goodness". Burton showed up in his jeans... we were enthralled.

He was in town to see "Wicked". Did I mention that he is gay? And as I learned, so was everyone else that I dated or wanted to date in highschool... (note if your initials are PA or KK, I have no idea either way.. but you are the only ones... )was gay. In fact, as I learned of yet another guy that I found cute being gay, I explaimed (or exclaimed for those of you not drinking vodka... Hey my house is under construction and my daughter calls me a whore regularly, what would you drink under the circumstances?), "Did I like anyone in highschool who was straight?" Our waiter, at Ann Sather's in Boystown in Chicago, laughed, looked at me and said, "NO!" Much to my consternation...

Oh well... I eventually found men interested in my charms...

Although we never did discuss the whole prom night issue... hmmmm wonder that was about? A discussion for another trip, I guess

Boobie-Thon 2006!

Ok.. I just got back from visiting family in the aul sod. While I was there I got to see and visit with assorted family members...

And to think about those who weren't there...

I can visit my Father's sister. She is a three year survivor of breast cancer..

I can and did visit my cousin. She is 4 years older than I am. She is currently undergoing radiation treatment.

I can visit another cousin, who lives in NYC. She is still in a pre-cancerous state for breast cancer. She is being watched very closely and Memorial Sloan-Kettering.

But I can't visit my mom's sister. She fought her breast cancer for a decade, but lost her fight when I was a freshman in college -- 20 or so years ago. I still miss her. As do her children. That yearning will never go away.

So I am doing my small part by participating in Boobie-thon 2006. I would like to say that I am bold enough to do full nudity... but I can't say that! Since you need to find me on your own...but let me know if you find me! Ok yes, I am teasing you, but you know that I am not that much of a tease.. you can see my boobies... for a price.. but it is for a good cause...Well you will have to prove that I have stepped over that line.. describe my pix to me.. then you get to claim what a slut I am!

HNT-35 Now with real boobies!

As promised.... here they are!

Renewal

Do you know what sucks the life out of me?

Travelling 500 miles with PK, kids and parents to attend grandmother's 99th birthday. This entails, yelling griping kids, criticizing parents, irritated husbands, fighting cousins, grasping, greedy aunts, and assortment of 1st, 2nd and 3rd cousins removed and unremoved.

Do you know what gives it back to me?

Being taken to bed by a lover whose only interest our mutual total satisfaction... A man who sinks into my soft body and sighs his delight, sucking on my nipples while pounding my hot wet pussy until I scream... and I hardly ever orgasm from intercourse, so you know that it will have to be incredible... Oh and we would take our time to explore each other's bodies... He would bury his long, hard cock deep in my tight ass and whisper his secret desires in my ear... I would explore his ass, sucking his cullions, while I explore his fundament with my fingers. I love the sound of his groan as he guides me into his body and spends his passion for me...

Yup, that would do it!

HNT-34

I am sooo sorry. I know you all must be getting really irritated with me and these pictures... I fully intended to use another picture today... but after I saw this.. only one thought entered my head...

MY HOUSE IS TOPLESS!

Please note the section of yellow wall... now you have all been in my bedroom... What a slut I am!





How fast are my builders moving? This was my house this morning:


I promise to be actually topless next week... Unless something even freakier happens at my house next week...

Oh and you might be asking, why is she at that house all the freaking time? Answer? I had to go over this morning because my idiot neighbor (in the white house) called the police on my builders again... Reason this time? A shingle landed on his Daddy's sidewalk. Would you believe those bastards would not jump off the roof and clean it up immediately? Some people!

How to tame a putz

Well.. let's see we are about three weeks into the construction project at my house... you know... the half-nekkid one... and already my next door neighbor's son has called the cops twice and daily harrasses the workers at the job site.

Today's incident was while the guys were taking down the roof...and the putz started screaming at them to them again. Charming. Let's distract the guy 25 ft in the air because his position is the most stable...

PK is trying to figure out how we are supposed to handle him. But the problem is that this schmuck hates us because even though we have a completely screwed up marriage and family situation at the moment, we still ultimately have a life. We have a house. We have kids. PK has a career. The putz probably even thinks that I have a cushy situation being alone 90% of the time but responsible for the care and keeping of everyone and everything within the household 100% of the time. Maybe he even thinks we have regular sex...

Naturally the putz has none of these things. He is 35 years old. Lives with his dad. Works with his dad. Has no visible girlfriend. Spends all of his free time either not wearing his shirt in the backyard drinking beer and playing The Grateful Dead over and over.. (think I am joking... ask my kids to sing 'Trucking" for you...) or....

He sits on his front porch, with or without his shirt, drinking beer and smoking, letting his dog crap in my front yard and run loose (tormenting my pooch) and glaring at us as we come and go in the course of our living our lives...

Now the one thing that everyone agrees on that we have discussed this problem with, is that this goon should go and get laid. I agree. However as I have pointed out for those that who have not seen the lad that is hard for a grungy, bushy, uneducated twit who lives in flannel and appears not to shave, shower or wash his clothes frequently to find a woman who will do him.

God knows that that I am not going to volunteer.

I am hoping that the general contractor just tells the tradesmen coming onto the jobsite to ignoring the rantings of the loser next door.

I got this quiz from my friend Jon...

I have to admit, I was a bit surprised that my car was so exotic and sexy... I guess that I assumed I would be a Chevette... not that they make those anymore, but I think you understand what I mean... good basic transportation.. that gets you where you are going.

I'm a Ferrari 360 Modena!

You've got it all. Power, passion, precision, and style. You're sensuous, exotic, and temperamental. Sure, you're expensive and high-maintenance, but you're worth it.

"Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

One of those days

Have you ever had an overwhelming desire to be filled with a hard, thick cock that pounds at you until you scream, squirt and then pass out covered and filled with sticky hot semen?

Yeah... me too..

HNT-33

I call this one: Half-Naked House.

Now I know what you are thinking...

What is wrong with this woman? Can't she manage to take a picture these days?

(my front door as viewed from my ceilingless basement... I like the irony of the curtain remaining)













Now in all fairness, I would like to point out that these photos were snapped today. And I did like the other-worldly quality of the light. Oh, and watching your home of 15 years being shredded from top to bottom leaves one (i.e., me) feeling vulnerable.

(the view of my daughter's bedroom... I liked how the floor beams from one floor to another are perpendicular)








So I think that this qualifies for HNT status. But you tell me!

(This is the best... I left a picture on the wall and the ceiling fan... IN MY BEDROOM ON THE SECOND FLOOR!)

A Pirate's Life for Me!

In honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day, I present Anne Bonny, pirate, lesbian, slut.

A girl after my own heart for refusing to live life according to the ideals of others.

The daughter of an otherwise married Irish attorney and a housemaid that escaped to South Carolina to own a plantation and raise their child, Bonny, nee Cormac, married a pirate at 16 and moved to Nassau, The Bahamas. Soon leaving her husband, she soon ran off with Calico Jack Rackman and joined his crew. On board his ship, The Revenge, Bonny soon uncovered another female on board, Mary Read. The two soon became lovers.

Sadly, men being men, and pirates being pirates the fun had to end. After coming under attack by the Governor of Bermuda's men, with the men aboard The Revenge drunk, Bonny and Read defended the ship and held off the enemy... for a while anyway.

When brought to trial, both Bonny and Read were spared the ultimately penalty due to them being pregnant. Mary Read died either during childbirth or shortly thereafter.

Anne Bonny was pardonned for her crimes and quickly disappeared, never to be heard of again. There is a legend that she escaped with the assistance of a doctor and moved west with a group of pioneers to continue a life of adventure, albeit, anonymous.

So, here is to Anne, a tits-out (at least according to this picture) kind of gal!

May we all be so bold in our life choices!

Well someone out there seems to like me...

I spent a weekend dealing with sneering preteens who expected to be carted hither and yon, handed cash and the butt of their jokes. Oh, and did I mention that they are exploring new, exciting and inappropriate insults.

So I was really happy to see that my blog received a favorable rating from Jane's Guide.com. I have admired their reviews for years and was excited and proud to read that I wasn't the hack that I sometimes think I am in my head. I will wear my icon with pride!

Oh... and will someone please explain to my daughter that a whore charges for their sexual services... By definition, I am just a slut.

HNT-32

Nude gardening, eh?

Generally speaking this would get me to run outside naked to my 9 square feet of back yard and go to town...

But sadly, I am not at my house. And if I was, I would be standing in a giant pile of dirt and mud due to the construction. The rental here has a large yard, but it is surrounded by a chain link fence. Not good for privacy...

So I am turning to indoor gardening... where I am raising a fine crop of boobies! I have quite the green thumb!

A new low

I am the one in the middle... at least I will win the race to skin cancer.

Yes...

My daughter was given a pamphlet today from her pediatrician.. who has taken care of her since she was an infink... (sorry to Popeye). The pamphlet was on monthly breast self exam.

She is so stacked that even he elderly pediatrician realizes that she is hot.

This is just adding to dilemna of how to deal with her hotness while still feeling like a vital woman.

Is this just a transitory feeling? Or do I have to adjust my world to except that I am on a lesser plain of womanhood. I would like to think that I used to be hot, but I doubt it.. I think had a certain level of cuteness though...

Before and After

Before

We groped in the dark.
Anxious and excited.
Before an audience that despised the show.
Wanting more.
Remembering.
Desiring.

After

The sun glinting over us.
Anxious and excited.
Alone and for ourselves.
Wanting much more
Exploring.
Desiring.

HNT-31

I have no idea what this picture is... I think my hair... but i was also taken by my 1o year old.. quite impressive for her age, I believe...

My Commute - A HNT Special Report

Oh Okay, it is part of my day, as I am a twit who couldn't remember to work on the camera stuff in the mornings... just as well, as it was blindingly bright this morning. Here is where I clued in this morning... I always enjoy the anti-Bush diatribe on the exit ramp... and the Bushie's answer to it...
















Looking at the mess the pooch made when I was running this morning (bad doggie!)















Off to school (tough luck doggie!):
















Lunch lady duty at school:

















Checking on the progress at the homesite (Don't you love the Porta-potty in my backyard?):






























Heading back home:











































Staying away from the flies and bees: