Gertrude and the Webbies

Did I ever tell you I got a gosling and some ducklings? They’re big now, about half-grown and nearly fully feathered.

The ducklings are shy but Gertrude is pretty friendly. If you pick her up, she’ll give you kisses.

From left to right, is Gertrude, two unnamed ducks, and Duck-Duck. Oh, and one photo bombing rooster.

Fetishes

I was browsing the internet (okay, one specific site and if you’re a member you’ll know which one) and I came across a fetish on someone’s profile.

to be spanked until you cry

This made my brain light up all the dopamine receptors because holy crap. This is my kink.

There’s a lot of “kinky” (I put kinky in quotes cause it really is subjective) things I would like to try, and quite a few I’m into, but this one is pretty non-sexual.

I strongly prefer a bare-bottom and bare-handed spanking, (I want that harsh, hot sting) hard enough to leave me shaking and in tears. After that I just want to be cuddled until I fall asleep. It’s a pretty simple thing, but most people won’t use enough force to put me in that place. That delicious, floaty, warm place.

It’s not as simple as just finding someone to do it though. I need to know that you know me well enough to judge what I need and how to administer it. And you need to be able to actually strike me hard enough to get the job done. I also need to have trust in you that you’ll take the time to offer aftercare and coddle me a bit afterwards.

That second bit is tough to get from a lot of vanilla people because they don’t understand that pain can be a really beautiful thing. And I get it. Plenty of people don’t like pain. Plenty of people don’t get turned on by it. I do. I love it.

Yesterday’s Visit with the Piercer

I know, if anyone is reading along, I kinda left you all hanging yesterday with my little screen grab of a conversation with my friend, so here’s what happened.

I set my alarm for 10am because I needed to go to the bank in Palmdale first thing. I checked to make sure my check was in, and then transferred money over to my mom for rent. Ate a breakfast burrito and some leftover steak and headed into town.

I went to the bank, pulled out most of what was left, and headed back to Lancaster. Then I stopped at the other bank, deposited some cash, and went looking for Your Favorite Tattoo, which I knew was on the Blvd but not exactly where. Took a few passes before I saw it but found parking almost immediately outside the front door.

I went inside and it was clean, open, and pleasant. Told the first person I saw who I was there to see and he told me to take a seat. TJ, the piercer, was a few minutes late but once he arrived he went over after-care, asked if I had eaten, had any health problems that might effect him doing the piercings, and if I had any questions. Nope, I know the drill pretty well by now. These would be my 21st and 22nd optional added holes.

He got set up and I asked him to use nitrile gloves because I suspect I have developed a latex allergy. No problems there. Then I got to strip from the waist down and get comfy on the chair – think dentist’s chair with all the up, down, and recline options.

He showed me the jewelry and then had a look at my labia to decide if the preselected rings were a good match fur my personal anatomy and to check for any obvious blood vessels that might cause substantial bleeding if pierced.

Almost immediately we decided to go with larger jewelry which he typically uses for prince Albert piercings. I was a lot happier with the size of these rings than the originally chosen jewelry.

Finally we were ready to begin. He had me lay back with my feet up on the chair, about 8″ apart from each other, with my knees apart. He placed the clamp which was slightly uncomfortable, had me inhale a deep breath, hold it for 3, and then slowly exhale while he pushed the needle through.

It hurt. Oh fuck did it hurt. I didn’t dare move, but I whimpered like a kicked puppy. I gasped. I cursed. And then he was putting the jewelry through.

By the time he was sliding the jewelry through on the second one, I was flying high on endorphins. It still hurt like a bitch, but my brain was kind of numbed to the intensity of it. I still made all the noises though…. Lol.

Then TJ tightened up the balls on my new jewelry, went over the after-care stuff again, and after a few more minutes I had finally stopped shaking and could get up to get dressed.

I gave him my phone to take some photos, and I sent the best one back to him to add to his portfolio. It was an incredibly intense experience but they look absolutely beautiful and I’m super pleased with them. Then I had other errands to run, groceries to buy, and bills to pay, which was uncomfortable but tolerable, and I grabbed a cherry coke to keep my sugar up because I knew when I hit the post-endorphin crash I was going to crash hard and fast.

I managed to stay awake after getting home until about 10pm and then slept like a dead thing for about ten hours. Today they’re still pretty sore but I expect that to fade over the next few days.

Crazy Dating Dream

I had the weirdest dream.

I was asked out on a date by Chris (no one I know in real life but that was his name) and I said yes. But my mom only allowed me so many points per day to spend how I liked, so I had to decide all the way down to how much kissing if things went well. I got it figured out though and was ready to do this thing. My mom informed me if we wanted to make out it had to be in the light by Tiffany’s car. Who is Tiffany? Why do we have her car?

Anyway, then I got word this other guy (too much money, spoiled, demanding, no social skills) was going to ask me out. Obviously I was going to say no.

I was sitting on a public lawn on the Blvd in a spinning rolly chair when he approached. He demanded I come closer. I refused. He demanded someone bring me closer and even offered them $100. They refused.

Eventually he drags me in my rolly chair onto the street and there’s a slight hill. I give myself a little push and start rolling down the hill. He runs to keep up, trying not to spill his precious glass of brandy.

He’s angry and getting angrier. I’m laughing. Eventually he catches hold of my chair and demands I go out with him. I laugh in his face and tell him no and why. He gets so angry he vomits all over me. I punch him in the nose and head into the gay bar we’ve ended up in front of to use the bathroom to clean myself up.

I realize while in the bathroom that I’m having a hard time standing still. I look down and I’m wearing roller skate. There’s a full flight of stairs going down from the corner of the bathroom and I sit down on them to change into regular shoes. I’m a bit cleaner but I’m worried because I can’t go home to change and my date with Chris is in a few hours.

What’s Wrong With Us?

I’ve collected a few tweets that highlight things I find myself thinking about – mainly what the hell is wrong with us as a people that these are the things we have to be worried about?

My Success

My therapist asked me to write about my own success story as a kind of graduation out of one on one therapy. To start with how I felt when I started with her a year ago, and end with how I feel about myself today. This is what I wrote.


My Success

A year ago I started therapy. I was anxious, even scared, about what it would be like. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t bathing, or sleeping well, or putting on clean clothes. I worried about everything. I had just broken up with my now ex-boyfriend and my entire world was upside down. I had to move back in with my mom and I didn’t want to. I was worried about living with her because we didn’t have the best relationship when I was a child.

I learned pretty quickly that my therapist was non-judgemental, and open to discussing whatever I needed to talk about that week. She gave me a safe space to not worry about what might be thought of me, and to reflect on myself with her gentle guidance. At the same time, I started doing things that let me feel in control of my body, since I couldn’t control anything else in my life right then. This took the form of several piercings, some easily visible, some more intimate. I changed my hair. I started wearing make-up more often. I showered. I put on clean clothes.

I got a puppy, and I started cleaning the house. I slowly stopped worrying about the things that had bothered me- if my pup was safe, if I was safe, if I would have a place to live. My piercings became less frequent, though I still got a few new ones, as well as a tattoo. The word WORTHY on my foot. Because I am.

I learned to look at things that had happened to me in a different way. My mom did the best she could for me. Not all the bad things that happened to me as a child were her fault. She loves me and thinks I’m just fine the way I am. Realizing that made a big difference in how I felt living with her and her boyfriend, and things got better.

I realized my ex was even more of a self-centered, bullying, and verbally and emotionally abusive asshole than I had let myself see before we broke up. Good riddance to bad garbage. I stopped talking to him completely and blocked him on social media. There was nothing good he brought into my life. I felt good about that.

All of these changes, and talking about these things while my therapist reframed them for me to consider made me see I am worthy of my own love and affection. I am worthy of others’ love and affection. I am worth working on to become a better, strong, more emotionally secure person. I’m worth taking care of. I am, all of me, worth it. I’m smart. I’m capable. I’m a good craft artist and a great dog mom. I can and do learn new things all the time. I can take care of myself and I can be my own success story. I am not a failure.

I AM WORTHY.

Second Coming of Christ

Oh sweet Cthulhu don’t let this be me!

I fell asleep super early tonight (and without the help of meds) and had a crazy dream that I was the second coming of Christ. Everyone found out because I guess I wrote a song or poem or who fucking knows what that told everyone just who I was.

And this church full of crazies wanted to get hold of me and crucify me. I obviously wanted none of this, so I escaped. Multiple times. In weirder and weirder ways. I stabbed someone to death with my brand new Gingher sewing shears (Omg I would never! Those blades are sacred!) and at one point a church defector who could fucking fly helped me get away.

Then an older guy gave me the mini tool kit and his souped up, all terrain, amphibious lawn mower and I jumped on, hauling ass across the county. Did I mention this thing could also fly?

I had just stolen a set of earrings (a girl has to look her best when running for her life!) from a fish farm when I peed myself in my dream because there’s no time for potty breaks.

Believe you me I woke up fast afraid I had actually peed the bed. Whew! Nope! But I got up and peed and took my meds anyway.

Comics Coming Out My Ears!

About six months ago, I bought some trade paper backs of some comics I like. Read a few, loved the stories, but decided I would rather read digital instead.

Those are in my shop now at a discounted price… Hint hint!

Then I bought a couple Humble Bundles which were loaded with comics. And I’ve got them all loaded on my Kindle Fire 8 (plus others I’ve acquired) and I’m slowly reading through them in the ComiCat app.

Some of them really surprised me how much I enjoyed them. Bitch Planet? Chew? Chester 5000? I’ve loved every minute! Lumberjanes took a little bit but it really grew on me. Mine! was a fantastic collection of stories from all sorts of people. It’s sales benefit Planned Parenthood and believe it I bought it the day it released.

I’m still reading Chew which has quite a few issues I need to get, but after I read the next few tonight, I’m planning on reading Bingo Love, a story about two women of color who fall in love at church bingo, but go on to marry, have kids, and live a full life only to be brought back together again in old age. I’m super excited about that one!

One Year

Somewhere in these next few days marks my first year of being me post-relationship. It’s gone by really fast, and while I honestly like being single more than I like dating, it still feels weird sometimes after an almost 8 year coupling.

In the last year, I’ve used multiple dating apps and attempted 2 dates. The first guy was supposed to meet me at Sharky’s but he stood me up.

The second guy met me for coffee and could not hold a conversation at all. He just made occasional mumbling about his dog. I love dogs. I’m a dog person. But this guy seemed completely terrified of actually talking to me.

I’ve had a lot of guys get crappy with me in chats because they accuse me of playing games when I don’t invite them over immediately. No, I’m just not allowed to have guests. And no, I’m not looking for a hookup, k thnx bai.

I’m not even really actively looking to date. If I find a connection with someone and it’s a good fit and we enjoy each other, great. If not, I’m not all that invested. And if a good thing happens, I feel like I’m ready to be a part of it, but there’s no rush. And that’s okay!

Anyway, yeah, one year also marks the time I’ve been living with mom and her boyfriend. One year of cleaning, purging, and organizing a mess that’s mostly not mine. I’ve made a lot of progress, but I’m looking forward to the day I’m not living here any longer.

Baby steps though. Baby steps.