Here it is -- our 2nd annual holiday video! Thanks to ST and his intrepid editing, we have 16 minutes of spanking silliness for you. So without further ado, I present: My visit from Santa's demented lisping elf, Seymour. :-)
(oh, and because I know there are perfectionists like me out there who will point this out, I'll do it for you -- I got my cartoon characters mixed up. Yes, I know... it's not Elmer Fudd who lisps, it's Daffy Duck. Oh well!)
Hope you enjoy! For reasons unknown, the full version absolutely refused to upload, even after three attempts. So it's in two parts.
Part 1:
And Part 2:
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Preview of coming attractions
Tonight, ST and I shot another Holiday Extravaganza! He showed up with his video camera and a fun idea; he even had a few props. I was laughing and clapping my hands like a kid -- yup, Ericaneezer Scrooge took a hike for a little while.
We were a little more ambitious this time, fooling around with different camera angles and shooting/reshooting the same scenes. And ST is going to be doing some very creative editing and special effects. OK, so the lighting wasn't perfect and we were a little off in our angles and we flubbed some lines, but we shot lots of variety and I know he'll have plenty to cut together and make something terrific out of it. It was hard not to crack up through it all -- in fact, I believe I did, several times, as did he. :-D How can you not laugh when you're being spanked by a demented elf with a speech impediment? (yes, really)
One goof we made -- we shot all the scenes, got all the extra snippets we needed, and then he put the equipment away while I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Only then did we realize we hadn't taken any stills! Arggh!
Oh well. You'll just have to wait for the video. But in the meantime...
I gave ST his gifts. I'd made him some brownies from scratch and had them nicely packed in a Tupperware container with a bow on it. Along with those, I'd gotten him the Leather Spanking Buddy from Cane-iac (I'd ordered it at the same time I ordered the first cane). Naturally, he just had to test it, immediately. And he passed the elf cap onto me.
Yeah... we're not too hammy, are we? ;-)
Poor sulky elf...
I love the Spanking Buddy! It packs a wallop, but it's a stinging, slappy, leathery wallop, not a thuddy wallop.
ST felt bad; said he didn't get me anything. I told him his gift to me is year-round. :-)
Stay tuned -- I'm hoping to have the first clip or two up by Wednesday.
And speaking of clips -- forget Clips4Sale. Not only do they have a 10-clip minimum, but someone told me they now require you to update and add new stuff monthly. Screw that! Something will work out. W.D.M.E. will be available again, somewhere. :-)
We were a little more ambitious this time, fooling around with different camera angles and shooting/reshooting the same scenes. And ST is going to be doing some very creative editing and special effects. OK, so the lighting wasn't perfect and we were a little off in our angles and we flubbed some lines, but we shot lots of variety and I know he'll have plenty to cut together and make something terrific out of it. It was hard not to crack up through it all -- in fact, I believe I did, several times, as did he. :-D How can you not laugh when you're being spanked by a demented elf with a speech impediment? (yes, really)
One goof we made -- we shot all the scenes, got all the extra snippets we needed, and then he put the equipment away while I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Only then did we realize we hadn't taken any stills! Arggh!
Oh well. You'll just have to wait for the video. But in the meantime...
I gave ST his gifts. I'd made him some brownies from scratch and had them nicely packed in a Tupperware container with a bow on it. Along with those, I'd gotten him the Leather Spanking Buddy from Cane-iac (I'd ordered it at the same time I ordered the first cane). Naturally, he just had to test it, immediately. And he passed the elf cap onto me.
Yeah... we're not too hammy, are we? ;-)
Poor sulky elf...
I love the Spanking Buddy! It packs a wallop, but it's a stinging, slappy, leathery wallop, not a thuddy wallop.
ST felt bad; said he didn't get me anything. I told him his gift to me is year-round. :-)
Stay tuned -- I'm hoping to have the first clip or two up by Wednesday.
And speaking of clips -- forget Clips4Sale. Not only do they have a 10-clip minimum, but someone told me they now require you to update and add new stuff monthly. Screw that! Something will work out. W.D.M.E. will be available again, somewhere. :-)
Friday, December 9, 2011
Things That Annoy Me, Part Whatever
That's right, I've lost track. Really, it would be much easier to list the things that don't annoy me. But not as much fun and certainly not as cathartic.
Every now and then, I feel like ranting about a phrase or term that irks me. The last time I did, the phrase was "I'd take a bullet for you." First of all, that's a stupidly empty phrase -- people just say it to sound like Friend of the Year, when they know damn well they'll never have to prove it. And second, who says I want you to take a bullet for me? Then you're dead or maimed, and I'm left with lifelong guilt. No, thank you.
Anyway... today's phrase is the feel-good saying: "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened."
OK, on its sweet and shiny surface, it sounds nice. Scratch off the veneer, and you'll see that it's utter BS.
Sure, it would be nice to completely bypass the normal grieving process of loss and skip straight to the warm and happy fuzzies. And maybe some people can do that -- if they are robots, or if they're lucky enough to be sociopaths who are devoid of those pesky human emotions.
Along the same lines, I recently came across a post where the writer was talking about the transience of some relationships. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of, "People come and go in our lives. There is no point in morning [sic] those who have gone; we should simply focus on what we learned from them."
Oh, kiss my ass. Tell you what, folks. Don't tell me not to cry, and don't tell me not to mourn. Don't invalidate my feelings. And if you don't, I'll do my part and I won't call you an idiot for spewing such drivel.
I'm not saying we should steep ourselves in grief and stay there indefinitely. But feeling sad, crying, etc. over something we've lost is part of the process, a step that cannot be skipped. It deserves acknowledgement and patience. Telling someone they shouldn't cry or grieve is the very thing that's going to keep them stuck. Because they'll shove down the feelings and never process them properly.
I know what you're thinking. "You have your own feel-good phrase that you trot out, Erica." Yes, I do. "The depth of your despair will be the height of your joy."
Let's review. Is there any part of that saying that tells the person not to despair? That denies or invalidates the existence of the sadness? No. It is merely a statement of hope, reminding the person that if they are capable of feeling deep pain, then in turn, they can also feel great joy. And they will, sooner or later. When I'm in the pits, I tell myself this, and I know that at some point, the tide will turn.
Here's a thought, folks: Next time you talk to someone who has just suffered a loss of whatever kind, spare them the invalidating homilies. Instead, simply offer them your most heartfelt "I'm so sorry."
Enough of that. In other news, my Cane-iac blog got Chrossed today, which makes me happy. That will bring even more attention to them, which they deserve. I received my second cane in the mail today, so it will be tested next Monday. :-)
And finally -- I may be an Uber-curmudgeon this time of year, but let it not be said that I can't laugh at myself. Check out my December persona, courtesy of the brilliant Zelle. :-)
Those glasses are not mine; she Photoshopped them on. Damn, she's good! Oh, and where did she get a photo of me making such a smug face? Where else... it's my mug shot from Spanking Court.
Have a great weekend, y'all.
Every now and then, I feel like ranting about a phrase or term that irks me. The last time I did, the phrase was "I'd take a bullet for you." First of all, that's a stupidly empty phrase -- people just say it to sound like Friend of the Year, when they know damn well they'll never have to prove it. And second, who says I want you to take a bullet for me? Then you're dead or maimed, and I'm left with lifelong guilt. No, thank you.
Anyway... today's phrase is the feel-good saying: "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened."
OK, on its sweet and shiny surface, it sounds nice. Scratch off the veneer, and you'll see that it's utter BS.
Sure, it would be nice to completely bypass the normal grieving process of loss and skip straight to the warm and happy fuzzies. And maybe some people can do that -- if they are robots, or if they're lucky enough to be sociopaths who are devoid of those pesky human emotions.
Along the same lines, I recently came across a post where the writer was talking about the transience of some relationships. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of, "People come and go in our lives. There is no point in morning [sic] those who have gone; we should simply focus on what we learned from them."
Oh, kiss my ass. Tell you what, folks. Don't tell me not to cry, and don't tell me not to mourn. Don't invalidate my feelings. And if you don't, I'll do my part and I won't call you an idiot for spewing such drivel.
I'm not saying we should steep ourselves in grief and stay there indefinitely. But feeling sad, crying, etc. over something we've lost is part of the process, a step that cannot be skipped. It deserves acknowledgement and patience. Telling someone they shouldn't cry or grieve is the very thing that's going to keep them stuck. Because they'll shove down the feelings and never process them properly.
I know what you're thinking. "You have your own feel-good phrase that you trot out, Erica." Yes, I do. "The depth of your despair will be the height of your joy."
Let's review. Is there any part of that saying that tells the person not to despair? That denies or invalidates the existence of the sadness? No. It is merely a statement of hope, reminding the person that if they are capable of feeling deep pain, then in turn, they can also feel great joy. And they will, sooner or later. When I'm in the pits, I tell myself this, and I know that at some point, the tide will turn.
Here's a thought, folks: Next time you talk to someone who has just suffered a loss of whatever kind, spare them the invalidating homilies. Instead, simply offer them your most heartfelt "I'm so sorry."
Enough of that. In other news, my Cane-iac blog got Chrossed today, which makes me happy. That will bring even more attention to them, which they deserve. I received my second cane in the mail today, so it will be tested next Monday. :-)
And finally -- I may be an Uber-curmudgeon this time of year, but let it not be said that I can't laugh at myself. Check out my December persona, courtesy of the brilliant Zelle. :-)
Those glasses are not mine; she Photoshopped them on. Damn, she's good! Oh, and where did she get a photo of me making such a smug face? Where else... it's my mug shot from Spanking Court.
Have a great weekend, y'all.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
An addendum to last night's post
Since my buddy Zelle posted three anti-Christmas links in comments last night, I was reminded about this bit of footage, the mother of all Grinch-y sentiments. And because I'm just in that kind of mood, I'm going to post it. If I don't laugh, I cry. Laughing is more fun.
WARNING: This is RUDE. Please, if you do love Christmas, or you don't like the f word, don't watch this. But if you do, make sure you listen all the way to the end, after all the clapping. :-)
WARNING: This is RUDE. Please, if you do love Christmas, or you don't like the f word, don't watch this. But if you do, make sure you listen all the way to the end, after all the clapping. :-)
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
It's that time of year again!
Yup, those of you who know me, know what I'm talking about. Time to break out this little guy, once again:
Today in the dentist's office, I heard Johnny Mathis's "Silver Bells." I wanted to barf.
Tonight on the phone, John was talking about Thanksgiving. Oh, goody. He asked, "On a scale of one to ten, how do you feel about our going to [his sister's] house? And no, you can't use negative numbers." Damn. He read my mind.
I am so not in the mood for the annual turkey-fa-la-ho-ho shit. But then again... when am I? Every year in November, I wish for an IV drip that will put me peacefully to sleep and leave me there until January 2.
This sentiment seems to worsen as I get older. Really, I don't know what happened. Would you believe I actually used to bake cookies as gifts? From scratch, too. Those pain-in-the-butt sugar cookies where you have to mix the dough, chill it, roll it, cut out the cookies one by one and painstakingly decorate them.
Got a little older, and switched to mini quick breads from a mix. Few years later -- ah, screw baking. Cards. That's the ticket.
Now, I don't even feel like sending those.
I had to laugh. In my blog's keyword search phrases today, I found "grinch spanking." Grinch = Erica. Nahhh... I don't really want to take away everyone else's holidays. I just wish I could go somewhere and avoid them. Preferably into a coma.
At least this year, John isn't sick. I am very grateful for that. The only thing that kept me sane last year was knowing I had my Connecticut adventure coming in January, when I went to shoot with Sarah and Paul. I have no such adventures to look forward to this time.
Someone, very well meaning, suggested that I could distract myself and make a few bucks by doing some seasonal work in retail. I appreciate that they were caring enough to try to come up with something for me. But, to quote Weird Al, I'd rather dine on shards of glass for all eternity than deal with a teeming mass of harried holiday harridans.
Thank goodness for ST. He'll be here. I wish I could bring him with John and me to the family dinners. We joked about how he could grab my butt in front of John's horndog brother-in-law. But you know, I like ST too much. I wouldn't subject him to that. I'm sure he'll have a better time with his dog.
It's stinking thinking to say, "If I just had something special and fun to look forward to, I'll get through." I know this. I need to cope without having carrots dangled in front of me.
So herein begins the countdown. Tonight is November 15th. Forty-six days until January 1.
I hope y'all don't hate my crabby guts by then. :-) Bear with me.
Tonight on the phone, John was talking about Thanksgiving. Oh, goody. He asked, "On a scale of one to ten, how do you feel about our going to [his sister's] house? And no, you can't use negative numbers." Damn. He read my mind.
I am so not in the mood for the annual turkey-fa-la-ho-ho shit. But then again... when am I? Every year in November, I wish for an IV drip that will put me peacefully to sleep and leave me there until January 2.
This sentiment seems to worsen as I get older. Really, I don't know what happened. Would you believe I actually used to bake cookies as gifts? From scratch, too. Those pain-in-the-butt sugar cookies where you have to mix the dough, chill it, roll it, cut out the cookies one by one and painstakingly decorate them.
Got a little older, and switched to mini quick breads from a mix. Few years later -- ah, screw baking. Cards. That's the ticket.
Now, I don't even feel like sending those.
I had to laugh. In my blog's keyword search phrases today, I found "grinch spanking." Grinch = Erica. Nahhh... I don't really want to take away everyone else's holidays. I just wish I could go somewhere and avoid them. Preferably into a coma.
At least this year, John isn't sick. I am very grateful for that. The only thing that kept me sane last year was knowing I had my Connecticut adventure coming in January, when I went to shoot with Sarah and Paul. I have no such adventures to look forward to this time.
Someone, very well meaning, suggested that I could distract myself and make a few bucks by doing some seasonal work in retail. I appreciate that they were caring enough to try to come up with something for me. But, to quote Weird Al, I'd rather dine on shards of glass for all eternity than deal with a teeming mass of harried holiday harridans.
Thank goodness for ST. He'll be here. I wish I could bring him with John and me to the family dinners. We joked about how he could grab my butt in front of John's horndog brother-in-law. But you know, I like ST too much. I wouldn't subject him to that. I'm sure he'll have a better time with his dog.
It's stinking thinking to say, "If I just had something special and fun to look forward to, I'll get through." I know this. I need to cope without having carrots dangled in front of me.
So herein begins the countdown. Tonight is November 15th. Forty-six days until January 1.
I hope y'all don't hate my crabby guts by then. :-) Bear with me.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
One more clip! :-)
This was the finale to last week's Christmas spanking.
It could have been over; he was winding down, and I was plenty sore and worn out. But despite that, somehow, I didn't want it to be over. I needed that final push. And so, I opened up my big yap one more time...
What you don't get to see, because the clip ends before the aftercare, was the part where I'm kind of curled around him with my head resting on his leg, and I voluntarily smile up at him and whisper, "Merry Christmas." No persuasion necessary. Amazing.
Guess you'll just have to imagine me being sweet. :-D
It could have been over; he was winding down, and I was plenty sore and worn out. But despite that, somehow, I didn't want it to be over. I needed that final push. And so, I opened up my big yap one more time...
What you don't get to see, because the clip ends before the aftercare, was the part where I'm kind of curled around him with my head resting on his leg, and I voluntarily smile up at him and whisper, "Merry Christmas." No persuasion necessary. Amazing.
Guess you'll just have to imagine me being sweet. :-D
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Post-holiday joy, and virus questions
What a fun treat -- came home from John's this evening and discovered that I was included in a special Christmas Chross list. I thought he had skipped the Spankings of the Week this week, due to the holidays. :-D Always makes me happy to be in that illustrious list! I see, besides many of the usual great choices, two of my dearest buddies were highlighted as well -- Zelle and Wolfie -- for what I believe is their first time! Congratulations to all.
So, how was everyone's Christmas? What'd you do? John and I had a lovely and peaceful time. Friday night it was just us; we went out for sushi, then came home, lit a fire and watched It's a Wonderful Life. Saturday, we lounged and lolled around in bed until after noon. Nothing was open, so I'd brought soup and rolls to have for lunch, which we enjoyed with Christmas-y jazz playing in the background. Later that day, we went to his sister's for dinner. It was just family this time, no big wild crowd, and it was actually quite nice, just 13 of us. We had Cornish hens and braised rabbit for dinner, with salad and vegetables and mashed potatoes. Normally I'm a bit squeamish about the idea of eating Thumper, but I have to say the rabbit was incredibly good. I even had a glass of champagne, and John made fun of me because my face was flushed and I was giggling at everything. I'm such a lightweight!
We came home around 9:00 (it was pouring rain), lit the fire again, made tea and watched a Marx Brothers movie. I'd treated myself to a boxed set of their first five flicks -- love those guys! We didn't do much in the way of presents this year, due to John's illness... far too preoccupied for that. I'd noticed, when I cleaned his house that one time, that his vacuum cleaner was broken, so I bought him a cordless hand vacuum cleaner, the best one I could find. Not a very romantic gift, but practical, and something he'd never buy for himself. Plus chocolate, of course. He gave me a gift card from Kohl's, so I can buy some new clothes. And today when we were at brunch, I noticed there was a small wad of cash in my wallet that hadn't been there before. "Sweetie," I said, "where did this money come from?"
He just looked, shrugged and said, "Guess Santa thought you were extra good this year."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! See? SEE? I was good, dammit! New Guy lied when he said Santa was mad at me! Hummmmmpppph. Boy, is he getting a piece of my mind tomorrow.
I have a question for the blog experts out there. One of my readers wrote to me and said she thought she might be getting viruses off my blog! She wanted to give me a heads-up, saying that whenever she came on to read, her virus protection would catch something new. Also, it was happening when she went to Pixie's blog. I've also heard from her and others that people were getting viruses and various warnings when they went to the Spanking Spot.
What could this be? How does one's blog get infected by a virus? I mean, I've run all my programs and come up with nothing; I have no infections. If one's blog is transmitting a bug somehow, how does one stop it? And how do you know if it's really happening in the first place? I mean, if my blog had a bug, wouldn't it pass it on to everyone who comes on it? (According to my reader, it happens immediately.) And regarding Spanking Spot, I've gone on there many times to check on my blog votes, and haven't caught a thing. So what could be going on? Any clues? Anyone else having a bug problem with my blog? Or is it just a coincidence, something with Blogger and not with me, a browser issue, what? Blech.
Oh well. Not going to fret over it tonight; I feel too good. :-) Hope everyone had a very special holiday!
So, how was everyone's Christmas? What'd you do? John and I had a lovely and peaceful time. Friday night it was just us; we went out for sushi, then came home, lit a fire and watched It's a Wonderful Life. Saturday, we lounged and lolled around in bed until after noon. Nothing was open, so I'd brought soup and rolls to have for lunch, which we enjoyed with Christmas-y jazz playing in the background. Later that day, we went to his sister's for dinner. It was just family this time, no big wild crowd, and it was actually quite nice, just 13 of us. We had Cornish hens and braised rabbit for dinner, with salad and vegetables and mashed potatoes. Normally I'm a bit squeamish about the idea of eating Thumper, but I have to say the rabbit was incredibly good. I even had a glass of champagne, and John made fun of me because my face was flushed and I was giggling at everything. I'm such a lightweight!
We came home around 9:00 (it was pouring rain), lit the fire again, made tea and watched a Marx Brothers movie. I'd treated myself to a boxed set of their first five flicks -- love those guys! We didn't do much in the way of presents this year, due to John's illness... far too preoccupied for that. I'd noticed, when I cleaned his house that one time, that his vacuum cleaner was broken, so I bought him a cordless hand vacuum cleaner, the best one I could find. Not a very romantic gift, but practical, and something he'd never buy for himself. Plus chocolate, of course. He gave me a gift card from Kohl's, so I can buy some new clothes. And today when we were at brunch, I noticed there was a small wad of cash in my wallet that hadn't been there before. "Sweetie," I said, "where did this money come from?"
He just looked, shrugged and said, "Guess Santa thought you were extra good this year."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! See? SEE? I was good, dammit! New Guy lied when he said Santa was mad at me! Hummmmmpppph. Boy, is he getting a piece of my mind tomorrow.
I have a question for the blog experts out there. One of my readers wrote to me and said she thought she might be getting viruses off my blog! She wanted to give me a heads-up, saying that whenever she came on to read, her virus protection would catch something new. Also, it was happening when she went to Pixie's blog. I've also heard from her and others that people were getting viruses and various warnings when they went to the Spanking Spot.
What could this be? How does one's blog get infected by a virus? I mean, I've run all my programs and come up with nothing; I have no infections. If one's blog is transmitting a bug somehow, how does one stop it? And how do you know if it's really happening in the first place? I mean, if my blog had a bug, wouldn't it pass it on to everyone who comes on it? (According to my reader, it happens immediately.) And regarding Spanking Spot, I've gone on there many times to check on my blog votes, and haven't caught a thing. So what could be going on? Any clues? Anyone else having a bug problem with my blog? Or is it just a coincidence, something with Blogger and not with me, a browser issue, what? Blech.
Oh well. Not going to fret over it tonight; I feel too good. :-) Hope everyone had a very special holiday!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Chestnuts roasting on my flaming bum...
...Jack Strap nipping at my a$&,
Although it's been said, many times, many ways,
Merry Christmas, with sass! :-D
See, even I can have a bit of holiday spirit with the right coercion... er, coaxing.
I wish all of you a merry/happy/joyous/fun/peaceful whatever you celebrate! xoxox
Although it's been said, many times, many ways,
Merry Christmas, with sass! :-D
See, even I can have a bit of holiday spirit with the right coercion... er, coaxing.
I wish all of you a merry/happy/joyous/fun/peaceful whatever you celebrate! xoxox
Thursday, December 23, 2010
My favorite clip, so far
I hope you guys are liking these! :-) Check out our oh-so-graceful transition from over the pillows back to OTK. But I think the funniest part is near the end.
I know everyone is busy with holiday stuff -- but if you do watch and you like, please tell us! We'll keep doing little vignettes like this periodically if readers enjoy them.
I know everyone is busy with holiday stuff -- but if you do watch and you like, please tell us! We'll keep doing little vignettes like this periodically if readers enjoy them.
Here come da clips! :-)
I got a bunch of them tonight, so I will post a couple now and then more tomorrow. If I do say so myself, we're funny! :-D So be sure to turn your volume up so you'll hear our dialogue.
This one comes at the end of his so-called "warmup":
And in this one, he had the strange notion that y'all want to see my face. Imagine that.
You know, I think we're having way too much fun; the strict-discipline aficionados will be disappointed. I mean, a spankee isn't supposed to laugh, is she? :-Þ (although I do think my color speaks for the caliber of discipline and the power in the strokes, don't you?)
Thanks to New Guy for getting us these so quickly -- more coming!
This one comes at the end of his so-called "warmup":
And in this one, he had the strange notion that y'all want to see my face. Imagine that.
You know, I think we're having way too much fun; the strict-discipline aficionados will be disappointed. I mean, a spankee isn't supposed to laugh, is she? :-Þ (although I do think my color speaks for the caliber of discipline and the power in the strokes, don't you?)
Thanks to New Guy for getting us these so quickly -- more coming!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Preview of coming attractions
Since everyone is posting various Xmas-themed blogs, I figured I'd better get cracking and post the two small clips New Guy sent me from my Grinch spanking.
These are just teasers, y'all -- quite short. And again, if you're looking for polished and professional, great lighting, etc., it's not here. Just us being silly and having a little holiday spanking fun. :-)
Intro:
These are just teasers, y'all -- quite short. And again, if you're looking for polished and professional, great lighting, etc., it's not here. Just us being silly and having a little holiday spanking fun. :-)
Intro:
Some early banter (I love his little "What am I to do?" shrug into the camera):
He promised he'd send more today. Of course, wouldn't you know, @#$%ing AOL email is down and I can't retrieve anything, no matter which browser I try. AGGGGHH! I am hoping this glitch will be resolved post-haste.
More fun with paddles and straps and belts (oh my) to come!
Monday, December 20, 2010
The Grinch got spanked
For everyone who's always wanted to see me get spanked for my lousy holiday attitude, have we got a video for you.
New Guy showed up in the pouring rain tonight loaded down with toy bag, camera and tripod. I was quite ready for him, with a special holiday message attached to the back of my skirt.
New Guy showed up in the pouring rain tonight loaded down with toy bag, camera and tripod. I was quite ready for him, with a special holiday message attached to the back of my skirt.
Can't see my special message? Here, look a little closer:
That's right -- I have mistletoe pinned just above my butt. And you know what that means. :-)
Interesting, though -- I thought it was hilarious, but he didn't seem to think so. He even made me take the skirt off! Of course, that was a good idea anyway, since the damn mistletoe was dry as hay (even though the package claimed it was fresh) and it was crumbling all over the carpet, the bed, everywhere.
So we recorded my thorough scolding and spanking for being such a Scrooge. I even had to say Merry Christmas 20 times (to 20 strap strokes) and "I'm sorry, Santa." @#$%!! I screwed up on the eight reindeer, though. I said "Stupid" instead of "Cupid." Silly me.
Ah, but you know what? When all is said and done, somehow I don't mind the holidays so much anymore. :-)
Clips will be up soon! Thank you, my friend. And to all a good night.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Happy (hic) Holidays
So we went last night to John's sister's annual drunkfest... er, Christmas party. I've written about these before. Every year, his older sister and her husband have a gigantic holiday blowout at their house, with friends of theirs, friends of their kids, kids of their friends, etc. teeming through the house making merry. There is always a live band and dancing. And enough alcohol to sail a fleet of ships upon. (Yes, I know I ended a sentence with a preposition. I don't care.)
This is my 15th time at this gig, so I know the drill. We show up fairly early, eat, and enjoy the band before things get too sloppy/crazy/loud with all the imbibing. I wasn't sure if John would be up for it or not, what with all he's been going through. He's still itching and covered with rash, even though he's been off the drugs for two weeks, and his stomach has been acting up as well. However, he still wanted to make an appearance, and I thought what the hell, we didn't have any other plans anyway.
It started out OK. We got there around 8:00 (it started at 7:00) and they had just put the food out on the buffet table. As we ate and mingled with people we'd seen year after year, the band started. They were amazingly good -- a topnotch drummer, bassist, keyboardist and saxophone player. And a mediocre fiddle player. Unfortunately, he was the one who stood front and center and did all the talking, loudly. He warned us all: "You all need to drink a WHOLE LOT tonight, or you're going to find us very obnoxious as the night goes on." Swell.
John and I grabbed primo spots on the couch and settled in to listen to the band and watch everyone. John, as always, kept me in stitches with his pithy commentary on the other guests. I swear, they say women are snarky, but John can out-snark any of us. One woman did this weird thing with her hands when she was dancing, making them look like claws; he dubbed her "Pterodactyl Woman." Another had her hair wound up in two tiny buns on each side of her head; she became "Princess Leia." Yet another was wearing a rather strange outfit and he said, "Oh, I remember her. She was dressed inappropriately last year too." A young couple, already falling-down drunk at 9:00 PM, came onto the dance floor. They were a rather unlikely pair: he had a full-face beard and was wearing a plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans; she had on F-me shoes and sequined black top with her boobs threatening to fall out of it. John whispered to me, "OK, who's going to regret that hookup more in the morning -- Mountain Man or the Skank?" Shortly thereafter, she stumbled on her spiky stilettos and went crashing into the sax player. I'm thinking there wouldn't be any hooking up with her later... throwing up, perhaps.
It was OK for a while... we even danced a little, but the space was packed and I got tired of dodging lurching bodies and errant feet stomping on mine, so we sat back down. The band took a break and John went off to mingle, and that's when things went sour for me. I stayed on the couch, wanting to keep our spot (besides, it was freezing outside on the patio), watching all the action around me and trying to look interested. I was wedged up against an older guy on my left who was talking to someone on his left, and he was flinging his arms around as he talked. His right arm kept flapping into me, and he was oblivious to it. What did he think he was hitting, the side of the couch? When his arm and elbow crashed into me for about the fourth time, I gently shook his shoulder, and he turned to me in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear," he slurred. "I hope I didn't hit any of the wrong bits." Good lord.
I kept waiting for John to come back, but he was deep in conversation outside with his niece's fiancee, and finally I gave up my couch spot and wandered around. But everywhere I went, there was more noise, more intoxicated strangers and no one with whom I could connect. I saw John's brother there by himself; his wife was home with their son. He comes to these things and kind of hangs out on his own, saying little. As it happens, he was probably the only other person there besides me who was sober; he's a recovering alcoholic and he was nursing his fake beer, looking kind of detached and amused as if he was thinking, "Damn, is this what I used to look like?"
I suppose I could have tried to strike up a conversation with him, but I've never felt quite comfortable around him. He's always been the "cool one" in the family, whereas John was the smart one. And of course, John was the one who got all the teasing, was picked on incessantly, etc., while his brother was treated like he was some hotshot. I've always resented him for that, even though I don't think it was his fault. It's just another screwed-up family dynamic.
The band came back from their break, freshly stoned and with fresh drinks, and their music got loose and sloppy, the vocals more hollered than sung. It was only 11:00, but I suddenly wanted to go home so badly, I could hardly stand it. I went and found John, still chatting, and gave him our subtle secret signal that can mean a lot of different things, but mostly it means "He-e-e-elllllp!" What did the big oaf do? He laughed and said to his companion, "Oh, she wants to go home." Aaaggh.
No, I did want to go home. Now I wanted to kill him.
I left and went upstairs, hoping to find a place where I could find a little peace. But people were in the upstairs bedrooms and I could smell pot. Then I saw Pterodactyl Woman carrying Princess Leia over her shoulder. Things were definitely getting weird.
Fortunately, John realized he'd made a bit of a boo-boo and came looking for me. I told him this was all a bit too overwhelming for me and I needed to go soon, and he agreed. We hung out a little bit longer, listened to the band a bit more and watched the miasma of bodies swirling and banging into one another. By 11:45, we decided to go home. My ears rang for several minutes after we left.
I know this party went on all night. I know that it was considered a smashing success, as it is every year, and people will talk about it until it's time for the next one. What am I missing? Do I need to be plastered? I guess that's it. Drunk people are appealing only to other drunk people, I guess. When you're sober, you feel like you're in a very strange dream, where everyone around you is behaving in a surreal manner and nothing makes sense.
Anyway... I'm grateful for John, who had one beer and then switched to Diet Coke. I don't regret that we went. Now I know the holidays are nearly over... just have to deal with Xmas Day at the same sister's house, and then it's done for another year. Hallelujah!
Oh, and my reward for surviving last night? Tomorrow is Monday! ;-) Now that's MY kind of fun, and while my bottom might be a little worse for wear, my liver will be intact.
Yeah, I know. I'm a square peg in a round world in this instance too. What else is new??
This is my 15th time at this gig, so I know the drill. We show up fairly early, eat, and enjoy the band before things get too sloppy/crazy/loud with all the imbibing. I wasn't sure if John would be up for it or not, what with all he's been going through. He's still itching and covered with rash, even though he's been off the drugs for two weeks, and his stomach has been acting up as well. However, he still wanted to make an appearance, and I thought what the hell, we didn't have any other plans anyway.
It started out OK. We got there around 8:00 (it started at 7:00) and they had just put the food out on the buffet table. As we ate and mingled with people we'd seen year after year, the band started. They were amazingly good -- a topnotch drummer, bassist, keyboardist and saxophone player. And a mediocre fiddle player. Unfortunately, he was the one who stood front and center and did all the talking, loudly. He warned us all: "You all need to drink a WHOLE LOT tonight, or you're going to find us very obnoxious as the night goes on." Swell.
John and I grabbed primo spots on the couch and settled in to listen to the band and watch everyone. John, as always, kept me in stitches with his pithy commentary on the other guests. I swear, they say women are snarky, but John can out-snark any of us. One woman did this weird thing with her hands when she was dancing, making them look like claws; he dubbed her "Pterodactyl Woman." Another had her hair wound up in two tiny buns on each side of her head; she became "Princess Leia." Yet another was wearing a rather strange outfit and he said, "Oh, I remember her. She was dressed inappropriately last year too." A young couple, already falling-down drunk at 9:00 PM, came onto the dance floor. They were a rather unlikely pair: he had a full-face beard and was wearing a plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans; she had on F-me shoes and sequined black top with her boobs threatening to fall out of it. John whispered to me, "OK, who's going to regret that hookup more in the morning -- Mountain Man or the Skank?" Shortly thereafter, she stumbled on her spiky stilettos and went crashing into the sax player. I'm thinking there wouldn't be any hooking up with her later... throwing up, perhaps.
It was OK for a while... we even danced a little, but the space was packed and I got tired of dodging lurching bodies and errant feet stomping on mine, so we sat back down. The band took a break and John went off to mingle, and that's when things went sour for me. I stayed on the couch, wanting to keep our spot (besides, it was freezing outside on the patio), watching all the action around me and trying to look interested. I was wedged up against an older guy on my left who was talking to someone on his left, and he was flinging his arms around as he talked. His right arm kept flapping into me, and he was oblivious to it. What did he think he was hitting, the side of the couch? When his arm and elbow crashed into me for about the fourth time, I gently shook his shoulder, and he turned to me in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear," he slurred. "I hope I didn't hit any of the wrong bits." Good lord.
I kept waiting for John to come back, but he was deep in conversation outside with his niece's fiancee, and finally I gave up my couch spot and wandered around. But everywhere I went, there was more noise, more intoxicated strangers and no one with whom I could connect. I saw John's brother there by himself; his wife was home with their son. He comes to these things and kind of hangs out on his own, saying little. As it happens, he was probably the only other person there besides me who was sober; he's a recovering alcoholic and he was nursing his fake beer, looking kind of detached and amused as if he was thinking, "Damn, is this what I used to look like?"
I suppose I could have tried to strike up a conversation with him, but I've never felt quite comfortable around him. He's always been the "cool one" in the family, whereas John was the smart one. And of course, John was the one who got all the teasing, was picked on incessantly, etc., while his brother was treated like he was some hotshot. I've always resented him for that, even though I don't think it was his fault. It's just another screwed-up family dynamic.
The band came back from their break, freshly stoned and with fresh drinks, and their music got loose and sloppy, the vocals more hollered than sung. It was only 11:00, but I suddenly wanted to go home so badly, I could hardly stand it. I went and found John, still chatting, and gave him our subtle secret signal that can mean a lot of different things, but mostly it means "He-e-e-elllllp!" What did the big oaf do? He laughed and said to his companion, "Oh, she wants to go home." Aaaggh.
No, I did want to go home. Now I wanted to kill him.
I left and went upstairs, hoping to find a place where I could find a little peace. But people were in the upstairs bedrooms and I could smell pot. Then I saw Pterodactyl Woman carrying Princess Leia over her shoulder. Things were definitely getting weird.
Fortunately, John realized he'd made a bit of a boo-boo and came looking for me. I told him this was all a bit too overwhelming for me and I needed to go soon, and he agreed. We hung out a little bit longer, listened to the band a bit more and watched the miasma of bodies swirling and banging into one another. By 11:45, we decided to go home. My ears rang for several minutes after we left.
I know this party went on all night. I know that it was considered a smashing success, as it is every year, and people will talk about it until it's time for the next one. What am I missing? Do I need to be plastered? I guess that's it. Drunk people are appealing only to other drunk people, I guess. When you're sober, you feel like you're in a very strange dream, where everyone around you is behaving in a surreal manner and nothing makes sense.
Anyway... I'm grateful for John, who had one beer and then switched to Diet Coke. I don't regret that we went. Now I know the holidays are nearly over... just have to deal with Xmas Day at the same sister's house, and then it's done for another year. Hallelujah!
Oh, and my reward for surviving last night? Tomorrow is Monday! ;-) Now that's MY kind of fun, and while my bottom might be a little worse for wear, my liver will be intact.
Yeah, I know. I'm a square peg in a round world in this instance too. What else is new??
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A two-fer: a clip AND a rant
I'm home... and I promised more clips, didn't I. New Guy posted a bunch of them on FetLife, but on there, only the people who "support" (read: donate money to) FetLife get to watch the videos, so many won't be able to see them.
This little clip is my favorite. I love his reactions to my big mouth. :-D
So, Thanksgiving is over. One down, one to go. Er... I mean, wasn't Thanksgiving lovely?? Oh, whatever. I'll tell you when I'll give thanks -- when John gets that @#$%ing PICC out of his arm and he doesn't have to inject those @#$%ing antibiotics any more. Just a couple more weeks... he's so miserable. :-(
You all have heard me bitch and moan and rant about the holiday season; I have nothing new to say at this point. So for those who are new to my blog, I'm reposting a rant from December 2007, just for grins. Remember all that fuss about whether you should say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays"? Here's my take on that life-or-death decision. Enjoy.
Warning -- the following rant is sacrilegious. If that sort of thing offends you, please stop reading here!
I don't know where any of you stand with the dumbass controversy about whether one should say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. Personally, I don't give a damn either way. I happen to say Happy Holidays, simply because it's generic and covers everything. But it doesn't bother me if someone says Merry Christmas to me. I mean, it's just a phrase. At this time of year, it's the same as saying hello and goodbye. But people make such a freaking fuss about what to say. Good grief, do people really have nothing better to whine about? I'm sure the homeless people on skid row don't care whether or not someone says Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays to them.
I was watching the news the other night, and they had one of those "human interest" stories they tack on at the end of the war and the rapes and the natural disasters, just for a little feel-good moment. Apparently, some little podunk town somewhere in South Bumf**k decided they've had enough of Happy Holidays, and they're going to reclaim Merry Christmas. One merchant in this town has big signs up in the store, reading "It's OK to say Merry Christmas!" All the employees wear buttons that read, "Merry Christmas." Yes, the Christ is in red.
They interviewed the owner of this establishment, looking very righteous in her button and her loud, cheery Xmas sweater from Bobbie Sue's House of Dreck, and saying, "We need to remember what Christmas is about -- it's about Christ." She went on to say that any customer in her store who says "Merry Christmas" gets a 5% discount.
Give me a break! So now, every greedy so-and-so in that town is going to flock to that store and cheerfully say the designated phrase, just to get the discount! Some Christmas spirit, that is. Hell, I'd say Merry Christmas, or Happy Kwanzaa, or Joyous Toenail Clipping Day or whatever the hell you want me to say, for a discount.
I wonder how the owner would react if a customer came in, piled up the counter with half the store's merchandise, then said, "Merry Christmas -- now give me my damn discount."
Yeah, I know, I'm bad. Tell me something I don't know. :-)
This little clip is my favorite. I love his reactions to my big mouth. :-D
So, Thanksgiving is over. One down, one to go. Er... I mean, wasn't Thanksgiving lovely?? Oh, whatever. I'll tell you when I'll give thanks -- when John gets that @#$%ing PICC out of his arm and he doesn't have to inject those @#$%ing antibiotics any more. Just a couple more weeks... he's so miserable. :-(
You all have heard me bitch and moan and rant about the holiday season; I have nothing new to say at this point. So for those who are new to my blog, I'm reposting a rant from December 2007, just for grins. Remember all that fuss about whether you should say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays"? Here's my take on that life-or-death decision. Enjoy.
Warning -- the following rant is sacrilegious. If that sort of thing offends you, please stop reading here!
I don't know where any of you stand with the dumbass controversy about whether one should say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. Personally, I don't give a damn either way. I happen to say Happy Holidays, simply because it's generic and covers everything. But it doesn't bother me if someone says Merry Christmas to me. I mean, it's just a phrase. At this time of year, it's the same as saying hello and goodbye. But people make such a freaking fuss about what to say. Good grief, do people really have nothing better to whine about? I'm sure the homeless people on skid row don't care whether or not someone says Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays to them.
I was watching the news the other night, and they had one of those "human interest" stories they tack on at the end of the war and the rapes and the natural disasters, just for a little feel-good moment. Apparently, some little podunk town somewhere in South Bumf**k decided they've had enough of Happy Holidays, and they're going to reclaim Merry Christmas. One merchant in this town has big signs up in the store, reading "It's OK to say Merry Christmas!" All the employees wear buttons that read, "Merry Christmas." Yes, the Christ is in red.
They interviewed the owner of this establishment, looking very righteous in her button and her loud, cheery Xmas sweater from Bobbie Sue's House of Dreck, and saying, "We need to remember what Christmas is about -- it's about Christ." She went on to say that any customer in her store who says "Merry Christmas" gets a 5% discount.
Give me a break! So now, every greedy so-and-so in that town is going to flock to that store and cheerfully say the designated phrase, just to get the discount! Some Christmas spirit, that is. Hell, I'd say Merry Christmas, or Happy Kwanzaa, or Joyous Toenail Clipping Day or whatever the hell you want me to say, for a discount.
I wonder how the owner would react if a customer came in, piled up the counter with half the store's merchandise, then said, "Merry Christmas -- now give me my damn discount."
Yeah, I know, I'm bad. Tell me something I don't know. :-)
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