Oh, shut up

Forget Nervous Nellie; she's gone. She has been replaced by Cranky Cathy. Or, as John would call me, Cranky the Cat.

Mr. D couldn't make it today. He's much better, but he lost a lot of time yesterday while at the doctor and had too much going on today to shuffle it around. And he can't make it tomorrow, either. So, it's going to have to be next week.

First-world problem, I know. But I want a spanking NOW, goddammit. And I want hugs, I want attention, I want a balm to my ragged nerves. So I'm feeling rather irritable and unfulfilled. I have a project to do, which is good. But as it happens today, there's some work being done on the baseboards in the hallway outside my apartment. So I get to make a feeble attempt to concentrate on work to the sounds of drilling and hammering and workmen chattering. @#$%&!!!!!

Therefore, I'm in one of those moods where everyone and everything is pissing me off. Look out.

Today, on my goofy little video with Mr. D, where I'm answering his questions and we're laughing and having fun, someone commented: "Get the gag!" Oh, fuck you. Yeah, that would be a really fun and interesting scene, with me gagged and completely silent. You want quiet? Go back to your mama's basement and spank your blow-up doll.

People are still posting pictures and comments about BBW, more than two weeks after the fact, and now the talk is starting up about upcoming parties (FMS, for example). I hate feeling left out. Hate it hate it HATE IT. Kelley used an acronym I've never heard before at our gathering in Vegas: FOMO. She was laughing at all of us, late at night on Saturday, all looking like we were about to drop dead, but none of us wanted to be the first to go to bed. Why? Fear Of Missing Out. As soon as we're not there, the best stuff happens and we miss it. That's how I'm feeling lately, with all these parties and the reports. Sour grapes, of course. I don't begrudge anyone anything. But dammit, I wish I had more money and didn't stress out so much about travel. I wish, I want, bitch bitch bitch. I read all the camaraderie on FetLife and Twitter and I swear, I'm back in high school, floating on the fringes.

Yeah, yeah, I know. SHUT UP, Erica. Enough with this already. But hey, it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.

Oh, and on the subject of people and their unsolicited opinions, the never-ending controversy of "Professional spanking/BDSM providers are whores" has been re-ignited lately. I've written about it before, so I won't belabor it once again. But I encourage all of you to please read this brilliant post by Dana Kane, here. I can't tell you how tired I am of this crap. I know it's not going away anytime soon and people will believe what they want to believe, but sometimes (especially when I'm in Cranky Cathy mood), it gets to me. I may no longer be "in the biz," but I used to be. And these women who are being vilified are my friends.

All right, enough. On the bright side, it's my kind of day outside: cloudy. Must go do some work. In the meantime, since I won't have a scene report this week, here's another quickie clip from last week. 

MVI 9816 from Erica Scott on Vimeo.