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.