Hey, Y'all!
Thought I'd greet you like Paula Deen. Hey Y'all. Now I kinda want some cookies. Dammit.
Anywho, How ya been? I only missed one day of posting, and it isn't even a biggie because I often miss weekend days, but it feels like forever because so many eventful things have happened!
Plan P Productions Meeting Cancelled, Impromptu Family Game Night, Plan P Productions meeting Redux with lots of inspirational awesomeness, my WEBSITE is finally up and running and very nearly complete! I'm a DotCom! My bedroom is RESTORED to me, and I am typing this to you right now from my amazing loftie loft. Ah, loft, I will never take your splendor for granted again. I thought we'd never go back to how we used to be, and here we are. Thank you loft, for being just as awesome as I remember you--nay, better, for absence has indeed made the heart grow fonder.
Yes. that's right folks! Eric has indeed finally removed the majority of his shit from my apartment, and he'll be leaving the state to make the next big waste-of-time-mistake of his life which has been strewn with poor decisions and completely avoidable mistakes, and so it really, honestly, finally feels like he is gone from my apartment and for most intents and purposes gone from my concern and from my life. This is a mostly great feeling.
It meant spending a sunday evening post-amazingly-inspirational-production-dinner cleaning, Febreezing, vacuuming, and purging my loft of ginger presence; it meant fresh linens and gross old crumpled linens which I pretty much refuse to touch too, but fresh ones which make my heart and soul happier than fucking a box full of puppies and a bowl full of ice cream!
And our real bed? Means really really good sex. It is a great space for lovemaking. Sweet Jesus, I could ride until the cows come home and not have to worry about making too much noise with a squeaky, rickety, wobbly old loft bed, without having to stop because I'm knocking items over below us (real fun the night I jostled a whole spine of blank CDs over in the office space below our loft bed. That crash killed my mounting orgasm but quick, lemme tell you. grrr.). So ride I have folks, and I am a happy camper. Turns Out I could ride until the cows come home, but the husband isn't superhuman and, lol, we had to stop rather, um, abrubtly. heeheehee, as it turns out he too is psyched to have this awesome fuck-space back too. It's like I forgot he was human and not actually a god placed here solely to pleasure me. "I tried to warn you, but you just kept going..." he apologized after, um, evacuating the scene. I came anyway (and it was like, my fifth orgasm anyhow, as we were having tons of fun with foreplay in our restored bedroom!), which is always hilarious and must look ridiculous, but which feels pretty fucking awesome, lol.
Me, writhing and panting and barely-conscious, Holy shitholyshitholyshitholyshit!
Him, holding me safely away from potential impregnation and cursing his inability to power through for me:Wait, what?
Me, throat hoarse, face squashed against his chest, all spent and mumbly: Yeah, that just happened.
Him, pleasantly surprised: Oh. Well. Good.
Me, tingling but still wanting so much more funtime: Yes. Very fucking good. Mores?
Him, with a jack-bauer-esque chucklething: No-way-in-hell. Night!
But that was ok. Like I said, I'd come a billion times and it was like 2AM and he was exhausted, and I always feel a little smug when I make him come like that, which blunts the disappointment of sort of rendering my favorite toy temporarily-out-of-service. It's kind of an ego boost, isn't it ladies? Making them lose their, um, control? It always makes me feel like a seductress or a sex goddess.
Incentive to get on some powerful fucking birth control, i know, but I really don't want to put all those chemicals in my body. And, despite what they sternly warn in health class, the evacuation (withdrawal) method? 14 years and counting. KNOCK ON ALL THE FUCKING WOOD. I guess that it is a gamble, I guess, but if you won the lottery every day for 14 years, wouldn't that start to feel more like certainty than risk?
Sucks for those moments where you want to come in tendem, but hey, that's what other avenues are for! lolz.
(Lol, I like this link even better than the one above. Some of the phrasing is Hi-larious.)
So when did my cheerful little monday night update become a porn blog? Ahhhhh. Welcome back to loft living!
I should probably disclaimer the hell out of the above; remember folks, don't try this at home! Or, Hey Folks, Try at your own risk! And, it probably bears reminding that the withdrawal method does NOT prevent STDs or AIDs. If you are sleeping with a stranger, wrap that shit!
Hell, who knows if it even prevents pregnancy? We might just be Sterile!
Ahhh. Won't I be a great mom someday? Not if we keep pulling out! Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk.
ANYWAY...........
I sometimes read a blog that is linked on a friend's blog, and tonight's was brills. I wanted to share with you. Check Out The Sassy Curmudgeon's take on blogging, which echoes my frequent sentiments (and why I am blogging to you at past-midnight after being startled awake by a ridiculous cat spat--my cats are real assholes sometimes, but you have them to thank for this post! I was blissfully in post-coital dreamland until those little furballs came to fisticuffs over the use of the catbed or some other trivial cat bullshit!!)
And don't forget to check out my new website, but please, please, please disassociate the professional on that site from the lunatic over-sharer who blathers on over here in the blogosphere.
Y'all come back now, hear?
Eww. Now I'm kinda picturing Paula Deen AND the pull-out method... enjoy your buttery cookies, Y'all.
Thought I'd greet you like Paula Deen. Hey Y'all. Now I kinda want some cookies. Dammit.
Anywho, How ya been? I only missed one day of posting, and it isn't even a biggie because I often miss weekend days, but it feels like forever because so many eventful things have happened!
Plan P Productions Meeting Cancelled, Impromptu Family Game Night, Plan P Productions meeting Redux with lots of inspirational awesomeness, my WEBSITE is finally up and running and very nearly complete! I'm a DotCom! My bedroom is RESTORED to me, and I am typing this to you right now from my amazing loftie loft. Ah, loft, I will never take your splendor for granted again. I thought we'd never go back to how we used to be, and here we are. Thank you loft, for being just as awesome as I remember you--nay, better, for absence has indeed made the heart grow fonder.
Yes. that's right folks! Eric has indeed finally removed the majority of his shit from my apartment, and he'll be leaving the state to make the next big waste-of-time-mistake of his life which has been strewn with poor decisions and completely avoidable mistakes, and so it really, honestly, finally feels like he is gone from my apartment and for most intents and purposes gone from my concern and from my life. This is a mostly great feeling.
It meant spending a sunday evening post-amazingly-inspirational-production-dinner cleaning, Febreezing, vacuuming, and purging my loft of ginger presence; it meant fresh linens and gross old crumpled linens which I pretty much refuse to touch too, but fresh ones which make my heart and soul happier than fucking a box full of puppies and a bowl full of ice cream!
And our real bed? Means really really good sex. It is a great space for lovemaking. Sweet Jesus, I could ride until the cows come home and not have to worry about making too much noise with a squeaky, rickety, wobbly old loft bed, without having to stop because I'm knocking items over below us (real fun the night I jostled a whole spine of blank CDs over in the office space below our loft bed. That crash killed my mounting orgasm but quick, lemme tell you. grrr.). So ride I have folks, and I am a happy camper. Turns Out I could ride until the cows come home, but the husband isn't superhuman and, lol, we had to stop rather, um, abrubtly. heeheehee, as it turns out he too is psyched to have this awesome fuck-space back too. It's like I forgot he was human and not actually a god placed here solely to pleasure me. "I tried to warn you, but you just kept going..." he apologized after, um, evacuating the scene. I came anyway (and it was like, my fifth orgasm anyhow, as we were having tons of fun with foreplay in our restored bedroom!), which is always hilarious and must look ridiculous, but which feels pretty fucking awesome, lol.
Me, writhing and panting and barely-conscious, Holy shitholyshitholyshitholyshit!
Him, holding me safely away from potential impregnation and cursing his inability to power through for me:Wait, what?
Me, throat hoarse, face squashed against his chest, all spent and mumbly: Yeah, that just happened.
Him, pleasantly surprised: Oh. Well. Good.
Me, tingling but still wanting so much more funtime: Yes. Very fucking good. Mores?
Him, with a jack-bauer-esque chucklething: No-way-in-hell. Night!
But that was ok. Like I said, I'd come a billion times and it was like 2AM and he was exhausted, and I always feel a little smug when I make him come like that, which blunts the disappointment of sort of rendering my favorite toy temporarily-out-of-service. It's kind of an ego boost, isn't it ladies? Making them lose their, um, control? It always makes me feel like a seductress or a sex goddess.
Incentive to get on some powerful fucking birth control, i know, but I really don't want to put all those chemicals in my body. And, despite what they sternly warn in health class, the evacuation (withdrawal) method? 14 years and counting. KNOCK ON ALL THE FUCKING WOOD. I guess that it is a gamble, I guess, but if you won the lottery every day for 14 years, wouldn't that start to feel more like certainty than risk?
Sucks for those moments where you want to come in tendem, but hey, that's what other avenues are for! lolz.
(Lol, I like this link even better than the one above. Some of the phrasing is Hi-larious.)
So when did my cheerful little monday night update become a porn blog? Ahhhhh. Welcome back to loft living!
I should probably disclaimer the hell out of the above; remember folks, don't try this at home! Or, Hey Folks, Try at your own risk! And, it probably bears reminding that the withdrawal method does NOT prevent STDs or AIDs. If you are sleeping with a stranger, wrap that shit!
Hell, who knows if it even prevents pregnancy? We might just be Sterile!
Ahhh. Won't I be a great mom someday? Not if we keep pulling out! Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk.
 | |
| You're Welcome! |
ANYWAY...........
I sometimes read a blog that is linked on a friend's blog, and tonight's was brills. I wanted to share with you. Check Out The Sassy Curmudgeon's take on blogging, which echoes my frequent sentiments (and why I am blogging to you at past-midnight after being startled awake by a ridiculous cat spat--my cats are real assholes sometimes, but you have them to thank for this post! I was blissfully in post-coital dreamland until those little furballs came to fisticuffs over the use of the catbed or some other trivial cat bullshit!!)
And don't forget to check out my new website, but please, please, please disassociate the professional on that site from the lunatic over-sharer who blathers on over here in the blogosphere.
Y'all come back now, hear?
Eww. Now I'm kinda picturing Paula Deen AND the pull-out method... enjoy your buttery cookies, Y'all.
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1 comment:
I don't think pulling out is given enough credit LOL. 11 months and counting :). Fuck the pill!
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