Happy Halloween

A friend who knows all the age crap I have to listen to sent me this Halloween greeting. Gave me a giggle, so I thought I'd share it. :-)  Hope everyone is having fun and lots of chocolate out there.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/29

Been a while, hasn't it? I don't have too many offerings, but I couldn't let Halloween weekend pass without a few frights.

hi mayb we get to know eachother??

Or mayb not.

This one was from a 19-year-old:

I think you are super hot.
Can we fuck?

Well, I know I can, and I suppose you can too. Oh, you mean with each other? No chance, Junior.

You're 19!!! Why on earth are you propositioning a 53-year-old? Can you even count to 53?

A comment on one of my FetLife photos:

well trained, i must say !

Excuse me? Really?? Do I look like a @#$%ing circus seal to you? Train this, pal.

I looked up his profile; he's one of those uber-Dom types with "Master" in his name. Here's my question -- if he's so masterful, why is he writing in all lower case, including "i"? :-D

And this week's favorite:

I am 6'3, 275, D/D free, non drinker, non smoker, THICK, long lasting and can cum multiple times if the feelings right

Ummmm... good for you?
Let me get this straight: You're just one inch taller than my boyfriend, yet you weigh about 100 pounds more than he does? I'll say you're THICK. Sorry, dude. I'm not into guys whose necks are bigger around than my thigh.

Here's a follow-up on the guy who posted that comment about "older butts" on my FetLife photo earlier this week. I decided to reply with this:

Please tell me that my eyesight is failing me -- someone didn't actually post the words "older butts" on one of my photos, did they? No one could be that clueless... right?

He then wrote:

Ok, vintage butts is a better term....my bad

Oh yeah, that's much better. I'm not old... I'm vintage! (rolling eyes) And you're not stupid, you're brain-cell deficient.

What else is going on... For those who have been asking about J (and thank you for that), he spent 2 1/2 hours with his doctor yesterday. She took blood, x-rays, asked him all sorts of questions. She thinks he may have some sort of low-grade infection that is keeping him sick all this time, but she wanted to wait to see what the various tests yielded before she threw antibiotics at him. So... we wait. Meanwhile, he's functioning. The good news is, she isn't worried about his weight loss. He's thin, but he's not underweight and his BMI is good. She told him don't try to force calories, just try to eat enough now to maintain his weight until he gets his appetite back.

I think this has scared him; it sounds like he's ready to make some lifestyle changes, cut his work hours, get more sleep. I just hope the resolve doesn't disappear once he feels better... but I can't worry about that now. I have to stay in the present and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, I had my first experience with cryotherapy yesterday -- I had a benign thing on my face sprayed with liquid nitrogen, which freezes the growth and kills it. Not for the squeamish, folks. The treatment causes an ugly, swollen blister before it heals and sloughs off. So now I have a band-aid on my face so others don't have to look at this icky thing. Perhaps I'll take it off on Sunday and go out and scare small children. (OK, it's not that bad.)

Here's the insult to injury. This thing on my face has a fancy name: Seborrheic Keratosis. I did a little research on it, and found that an alternate name for it is "senile wart." In other words, it's a benign growth that older people get.

And now if you will excuse me, I'm going to go open a vein. Have a great Halloween weekend, y'all.

It's a [Spanking] Party!

I promised you guys a parody, didn't I...

I posted this one a few months ago on a "Spanking Karaoke" thread on FetLife, but it got little notice among all the other offerings, so I thought I'd spotlight it here. It's a parody of Oingo Boingo's "Dead Man's Party" from the 1980s, which has become a quintessential Halloween rock song.

For those who aren't familiar with the song, you can click here to hear it and read the original lyrics:



It's a fun song with a very cool driving beat; I think you'll like it. And you'll enjoy it even more with my lyrics! So, in honor of Halloween, and for all my friends going to the Chicago Crimson Moon party (some are already there -- Zelle!), I present "Spanking Party."

All dressed up, got somewhere to be
Tops are gonna throw me right over their shoulders
Plunk me down right over their knees
Gonna spank my bottom until it smolders!

Waiting for the special weekend to arrive,
Going to a party that makes me feel alive!
Waiting for the tops to threaten me with pain,
Though I really love it, I'll still complain!

I'll be struck by paddles
Lying OTK
I'll be hit by hands and brushes
Night and day

It's a spanking party
Who could ask for more?
Lots of spankos coming,
Leave your panties at the door
Leave your skirt and panties at the door!

Don't run away,
It hurts so good
Don't be afraid
Unless you see wood!

Got my stockings, my heels are high
Waterproof mascara on either eye
Halfway through, I'm gettin' oh so sore
"Come on, baby, you can take much more!"

I'll be struck by paddles
Lying OTK
I'll be hit by canes while my bum's
On display

It's a spanking party
Who could ask for more
Lots of spankos coming
Leave your panties at the door
Leave your skirt and panties at the door!

Don't run away,
It hurts so good
Don't be afraid
Unless you seeeeeeeeeeeeee wood!

It hurts so good...
It hurts so good...

Do I look like a @#$%ing chef to you??

New Guy came over tonight with a three-pack of brand-new wooden spoons. WTF?? The first time he came here, he brought me a birthday balloon and a flower. Now I get freaking spoons?? Is the honeymoon over?

Since they were kitchen implements, he got this crazy idea that I should spend more time in the kitchen. Needless to say, I didn't share that sentiment. OK, he said, if I wasn't going to use the kitchen for cooking, then he'd use it to toast my buns.

Yeah, well... I showed him. And his damn spoons.



We moved into the living room, where I was OTK for a long hand spanking and then put over my ottoman for strapping and paddling. I wasn't as giggly tonight; I was feeling a bit high-strung and knew I wanted to play hard. So I pushed. What a shock, huh?

However, there are times when I really am foolish. I mean, I forget where I am and how many evil implements are at the ready. At one point, he kept whacking me with the paddle I hate most, and I complained loudly about it.

"I can't help it," he said, "it just looks so good on your bottom."

"It would look a lot better shoved up yours," I snapped.

News flash: That was the wrong thing to say. I don't know what gets into me sometimes. But he made sure it got whaled out of me. For a while, anyway. I'm sure whatever it is will return. It never stays away for very long.

For tonight, though, I was tearful and contrite, and he held me for a long time afterward. Once I'd returned to Earth, we realized that once again, we didn't have enough pictures. Naturally, we had to address that situation.

If you look close, you can see that my mascara is smeared. Feel sorry for me?



(sigh) I didn't think so. I don't care. I still think he's a big meanie.



And yet, and yet... I kinda like him anyway. :-)

Oh, and get this... I posted the broken spoons picture on FetLife, and got this gem of a comment:

Are newer utensils getting weaker or are older butts getting stronger?

OLDER BUTTS????????????

I haven't thought of a proper comeback yet. I simply must say something; I can't let that one go.

Later. Right now, I feel too good to be bitchy.

Rhythm of the Rain

It's a rainy Sunday night, but not cold enough to close the window. So I sit here near the open living-room window, listening to the quiet drizzle outside and feeling oh-so serene. How is it that rain depresses some people? I wish I understood that. OK, when it's coming down in sheets and torrents for days on end, causing mudslides, it's not so great. But nights like this are like a healing balm.

Anyway, an old song comes to mind, from way back in the Dark Ages (i.e., the 1960s), called "Rhythm of the Rain." It's a very sad song, actually. The first verse goes:

Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain 

Telling me just what a fool I've been

I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain

And let me be alone again

Of course, as I hear these lyrics in my head, my mind transforms them to:

Listen to the rhythm of your falling hand,

Telling me just what a brat I've been

I wish that it would stop and let me catch my breath

So I could sass you once again

That's all I got, folks. I read the rest of the song's lyrics -- mushy stuff about how this guy's girl left him and took his heart with her -- and my inspiration dried up. Perhaps I'll finish the song if the parody muse comes through for me.

Or how about Eric Clapton's "Let it Rain"?

Let it rain,

let it rain,

Let your hand rain down on me...

Ugh. That sucks, Erica. Give it up.

Never mind. I will have a good Halloween song parody for you later this week.

J is a little better. I have a fresh new episode of Desperate Housewives waiting for me on my DVR. And I'm playing tomorrow. Beyond that, at the moment, I don't care. :-)

When it's raining, the world is mine.

Looks like LOL V was a success!

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10/21/10 is LOL V Day

The fifth annual Love Our Lurkers Day, that is. This is the day we spanko bloggers give an extra special shout-out to our readers, particularly the ones who read us regularly, but are too shy to post a comment.

Started and organized by the incomparable Bonnie, LOL Day is an open invitation for our readers to "delurk" and post a comment. It doesn't have to be long, it doesn't have to be Shakespeare. You can just say hello and introduce yourself. You can say why you like the blogs you do. Whatever you feel like saying, it's a nice way to break the ice and make new friends in the blogworld.

I am especially pleased to be involved this year, because it's my first year on Blogger (as opposed to my antiquated blog on MySpace). I feel so much more connected now and I hope readers will feel comfortable enough to step up and say hi.

Here's the deal, folks -- some people may have trouble leaving a comment. Unfortunately, because of one persistently nasty poster, I had to disable the "Anonymous" comments option. There are several other options for commenting, but for whatever reason, some folks are unable to make them work. And damned if I know how to advise them. :-(

So, here is what I suggest. If you would like to leave a comment but you can't, then write it to me at the email address used with this blog: erica.scott.blog@gmail.com. That way, I can collect those comments and paste them into another post, acknowledging you all. Bonnie loves for us to keep a count of all the "delurk" comments we get, so she can compile the stats.

And for those who CAN comment, please do! I'd love to hear from you. Thanks to one and all for reading my blathering. Without our viewers, bloggers would just be keeping an electronic diary. What fun is that?

Happy LOL V!

Don't try this at home

A bit of silliness from last night. You know, being spanked in this position is very awkward. The blood doesn't know where to go -- to my head or to my bottom.

Tops are evil. I know, I'm not telling you anything new. But I thought it was worth reiterating. New Guy comes over here with his toy bag stuffed with implements, plus a case with two canes in it. Oh, and wearing his belt. You'd think that would be plenty of instruments of correction, right? But nooooooo. On the way, he actually stopped the car, got out and cut a fresh green switch. @#$%!!!!!!

"I think you need a good switching, young lady." Whatever. I think you need a lobotomy. (No, I didn't say that out loud. I should have; had nothing to lose!)

Last night was quite different from our play last Monday. Whereas last week I'd been strung out with tension and was ready for a good cry, this time I couldn't stop giggling. I felt like my blood had been infused with champagne bubbles and everything tickled me (well, except for those damned implements). Fortunately, he has a good sense of humor and played along.

After a long OTK warmup (I swear, I can feel his hand getting stronger each week), he stood me up and then piled a couple of pillows on the side of the bed. I started to lie on them.

"Did I tell you to lay down?"

"No," I replied. "And you didn't tell me to lie down, either." Oh, the glee. Y'all know how much I love correcting a top's grammar. Naturally, he didn't love it one bit. I swear, you try to educate some people...

I had to bend over and put my hands on the pillows, but eventually he let me lie on them. (Rather, he picked me up and plunked me down on them.) After a healthy dose of his paddles and straps, it was switch time. It didn't last very long, though. It broke.



He was unfazed, though. He still had plenty left to work with. And it was able to impart quite an impression before it met its demise.



Usually I wind down after a while, settle into my zone and shut up, but last night, I simply couldn't; I was sassy to the end. I'm glad it's not always like that, because that would get tiresome for both of us, but sometimes, it's fun to be silly and light-hearted. However, his spanking/switching/strapping wasn't light anything.

Still haven't broken him of asking stupid questions, though. At the end: "Hmmmmmm... how many should I give you with these?"

"How the @#$% should I know?" I snapped.

"Well, that's good for at least ten," he said, laying ten hard ones on me. Then he stopped. I thought he was done, so I started to get up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I thought you were done!"

"No, I said at least ten, for saying... oh, now I forgot what you said."

Helpfully, I reminded him, "I said, 'How the @#$% should I know?' "

Sheeeesh! Try to be helpful!



At 9:30 he had to leave, but not before he gave me a sample of all his toys again. He didn't want me to forget how they felt, you see. Plus, it tweaked him that I'd already faded. My bionicity seems to have returned. Today, except for one tiny mark off to the side where the switch wrapped a little, I am completely unmarked. Sore, though. Definitely sore.

My apologies if the pictures are a bit large. Blogger is acting up today, and after the first image, it wouldn't let me upload any of the others. So I had to do it the old-fashioned MySpace way: upload the images to Flickr, copy the picture code and paste it into the blog. I don't know how to resize or adjust the photos when I do it that way. But at least I got it to work! Not bad for a computer-challenged sort.

Rainy day, sore bottom... all is well in my little world at this moment.

Thanks, New Guy. (He likes that name, BTW)

Rainy Monday

I love it. It's gray and serene and so, so quiet. Just the patter of the raindrops. It soothes my soul.

This weekend was a little better than the last one; J is very weak and tired all the time, and still a little feverish, but he was a bit more himself this weekend. I saw glimpses of his joking self now and then. I just wish he'd get his appetite back... he's so thin. He did go to the doctor again last week, had an exam. It's not in his lungs, he doesn't have swollen glands in his neck. I don't know why it's lasted this long, but it could be because he was so damned run down before he got it, working 12-14-hour days and sleeping so little. Anyway, I took him on his various errands, made sure he was fed, helped him with his chores.

Regarding my scene with Craig tonight -- unfortunately, life interferes with one's fun once again, and he had to postpone. Too much stuff going on, very understandable. We are hoping to reschedule soon.

Meanwhile, last night I remembered that New Guy had suggested our getting together tonight and I had told him I couldn't. Taking a chance that he hadn't made other plans, I wrote to him and said that if he wasn't busy and would still like to come over, he was more than welcome.

He'll be here at 6:30 tonight. :-)

It's raining. I'm playing. For another little while, I can let go of worrying about J. He called me this morning... just wanted to assure me that he's hanging in there and tell me how much he appreciated my care this weekend. (sigh) I'm glad it makes him feel better. I just wish I didn't hate doing it so much. Seeing him in such a weakened state makes me panic and project, and when I do that, I'm screwed.

Off to the gym with me.

Three weeks in a row!

I can't believe it -- I've been Chrossed three Fridays in a row. My little attention whore heart is bursting. Oh, and I see my sisters Bonnie, Hermione, Poppy and barely-pink are on the roster this week as well. High-fives, ladies!

Let's see... I've played with New Guy three times, blogged about our play three times, and gotten Chrossed with all three of those blogs. Think he might be a lucky charm? :-)

I really wanted to post a CHoS today, but I didn't have enough material and don't like posting a half-ass collection. Maybe by next week it will be whole-ass.

J is still sick. 'Nuff said there. I'm going to his place tomorrow morning. At least it will be clean; I went there earlier this week while he was working and dusted, mopped, scrubbed and threw out trash. He's been too sick to do any maintenance and I couldn't stand it anymore. Oh, and I swept about a month's worth of leaves off his deck in the back yard, and I have the blistered thumb to show for it. Not that I'm a martyr or anything. Heavens to Betsy, no!

Last night at 2:00 a.m., my refrigerator started making very loud squealing noises. It was running, but the noise was awful -- I swear, it sounded like there was a puppy trapped in the freezer. So this morning, I got out the trusty Yellow Pages and looked up a local repair place. I described the problem to the tech and he said someone would come to my place between 12 and 2 today. I said thanks and hung up.

Right after I hung up, the noise stopped. Then started again, not as bad. Then stopped. Then a few squeaks... and silence. Hasn't made the noise since. Figures! Dammit... why does that always happen? I know how to make the noise start up again -- call and cancel the tech! Meh.

Spanking-wise, I have very good news. Either Monday or Tuesday, I am playing with... drum roll... Craig! I last saw him at the Shadow Lane party, and before that, we hadn't had a one-on-one scene since last June. Why? His life is overloaded lately, with lots of work, business trips back to back, etc. In fact, next week he was supposed to go to China, but then that got cancelled. So we're seizing the opportunity. I am looking forward to it. :-)

New Guy says that the week after, my butt is his. You know, I could get used to this weekly spanking thing. I like it. I like it a lot.

Have a great weekend, y'all.

I found this amusing

My good old Hitachi wand "massager" finally bit the dust. I put "massager" in quotes because everyone knows that the usage of said device has absolutely nothing to do with massage. Anyway... didn't feel like paying top dollar at one of the local kitschy sex boutiques, so I did an online search. Found the best price at a site called Sexual Wellbeing, and they were having a 25% off special to boot. So I placed an order.

For whatever reason, my order was routed through DrugStore.com, of all places. That was the return address on the box, even though the invoice was from Sexual Wellbeing. I opened the box, and there was my new little toy... and a trial-size tube of Colgate Pro Clinical whitening toothpaste.

WTF??

Rather incongruous pairing, don't you think? Free toothpaste with every sex toy order! What's the message here? Perhaps because the toy will make me smile gleefully, they want to ensure that my smile is sparkly white.

Of course, it could be a more complex message. Maybe they're trying to tell me to take better care of my teeth so I won't have to spend so damn much money at the dentist. And then guess what? More money to spend on their sex toys!

Whatever. Printed at the bottom of the invoice is "This order was packed with care by Grace." Thank you, Grace.

Just look at that smile! Is it her toothpaste, or her Pocket Rocket?

I don't need no stinkin' Calgon...

Spanking took me away, for a little while. :-)

New Guy read my blog about being stressed out. He appointed himself as my caretaker and prescribed extra-strength, time-release Spanksalot. He did warn me that side effects included reddening of the bottom, difficulty sitting, loss of sass and a condition known as subspace bliss. Marking may occur in some patients. I was willing to take my chances.

I will fully admit up front that I was a little snot to him at the outset. (Who, me? I know, hard to believe.) I was all edges and angles and prickly burrs, full of tension. But he knew that.

"I think I should spank you in your bedroom," he said. "Why?" I asked.

"Because I haven't spanked you there yet."

"So you think a change in geographic is going to improve your technique?" I snapped. That did it.

I don't know how long the scene was. It went on for quite some time, and his bag of tricks was fully utilized, including a brand-new hairbrush, purchased for yours truly. Somewhere about mid-scene as my emotions were bubbling up, I felt angry. Not at him, per se, just in general, and I wanted to fight and scream and cuss. Instead, I snatched the nearest implement on the bed next to me -- a strap -- and flung it off the bed. Unfortunately, it hit him in the legs.

"Why did you just throw that at me?" "Because I felt like it."

Strangely enough, he then felt like whaling the tar out of me. "You will not throw things at me. I will not allow that. Do you understand?"

I'm not stupid. I nodded my head. But he kept going until I apologized. After I did, he paused to rub a little, and I thought, "Oh, damn, I hope he's not done."

He wasn't.

Earlier that morning, a friend had written me and said, "It sounds like you need a good cry. Can you go there with [New Guy] yet?" I thought no, it's too soon. It usually takes a while for me to let go to that point. But I knew she was right; I sure as hell needed to.

The implements are all blurring in my mind. I remember toward the end, he asked me, "Have you had enough, or do you need more?"

I thought I'd had enough. I really did. But when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a meek little, "I don't know..."

"OK," he said. "If you don't know, then you're getting more."

Twenty hard whacks with the wide strap. I had to count them. By ten, my voice broke. By twenty, the dam broke.

It was a long time before I could raise my head. Crying as catharsis feels wonderful, but it embarrasses me as well. As Pixie likes to say, "tears are hot, snot is not." There is nothing sexy about a red nose and smeared mascara. He didn't rush me, just brought me Kleenex and rubbed my back. "Is that what you needed?" "Yes," I murmured into the bedspread.

By the time he remembered that he'd brought his camera, I'd already faded a fair amount. Still, we had to have pictures, right?

Here I am, covered with his arsenal -- and this wasn't even all of it:

Later, I'd pulled my little blue shorts back on and I was sprawled on the bed, and he liked the pose so much he wanted to capture it:

However, it annoyed him that I was now merely pink, and he decided it was time to refresh the color a little:

Mission accomplished.

We hung out and talked for a couple of hours, and then he asked if I'd like something to eat before he headed home. I didn't want dinner; what I really wanted was something sweet, and it was still warm out. So... we went for frozen yogurt. I can't tell you how perfect that tasted. He smiled at me, watching me happily scarf my concoction with four flavors, bananas and cookie nuggets, and asked if I was happy at both ends now. Yup.

Sleepy, sore and foggy brained this morning. But no more tension. Wish it would stay away. Perhaps for today, it will. :-)

Calgon, take me away!

Remember those commercials, or am I hopelessly dating myself? Anyway, I don't need a fancy bubble bath -- I need a lobotomy.

Stressful weekend. Went to J's Saturday morning and found him even worse than he was last weekend. He looked so sick, it scared me, but he insisted he was more tired than anything else and we should go have some lunch.

Took him to get a bite to eat and then ran errands with him, at his insistence. He needed printer cartridges (of course, that couldn't wait) and he wanted to get his groceries too. It was 90+ degrees out, and he sat in my passenger seat, bundled up in his jacket and with his fur-lined trenchcoat wrapped around him. Still, we got the errands done and got him back home to bed.

Couple of hours later, he came staggering out of the bedroom, and the look on his face made my heart jump up to where my tonsils used to be. I will not detail what happened right after that. Suffice it to say it was dreadfully unpleasant for both of us.

Got him back to bed and collapsed on his couch, feeling like jumping into my car and fleeing. I'm not proud of that, but that's how I felt. Seeing him like this for so long was freaking me out. But I stayed.

Later, I went out to get myself some dinner and bring back something for him. Got him some miso soup, some Pepto-Bismol and a thermometer. He woke up for a little while, long enough for me to get some Pepto, some Tylenol and a bowl of soup into him. And some grapes. For whatever reason, he can't get enough grapes. Took his temp -- 101.5. Not as bad as it's been, but still up there, since his normal temp is low, around 97-point-something, just as mine is.

Slept on his couch -- well, tried to, anyway. He woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and then, sick as he was, he brought me blankets. I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't need them, I was already too hot -- just said thank you, and discreetly pushed the blankets back off after he went back to bed.

Today, I thought I'd get him squared away with a light lunch and then head home, but he said he was a little better and wanted to go out. Took his temp again -- Normal! Hallelujah! He wanted to take a shower, but when he first got in, he fumbled with the sprayer, dropped it and got water all over the bathroom floor. I knelt down to sponge it up and he snapped at me that I was doing it wrong and missing spots. Finally he yelled at me to stop, grabbed the sponge and did it himself. Then he apologized profusely for yelling at me.

He managed to eat his breakfast, albeit very slowly. He alternated between pulling on two jackets and then taking them both off, then putting them on again. At least the food didn't get his intestines in an uproar. Got him home and helped him prepare everything to bring to his office in the morning. Yes, he was going to work. He hasn't been exercising and he can barely eat, but he still goes to work. If he doesn't go to work, that means he's no longer among the living. So I made a list for him of things to remember, because in his febrile state he'd forget them otherwise. Once I'd done everything I could think of, I finally took off, leaving him to sleep and going home where I could get some sleep myself. He promised me that if he didn't start to turn around this week, he'd go back to Kaiser. It's been nearly a month.

Got about 2/3 of the way home and realized I left my overnight bag there. Turned around and went back. By the time I got back to his place, I was beyond frazzled. "Hey, you're not supposed to be in worse shape than I am," he joked. He insisted repeatedly that I had been wonderful this weekend and he couldn't have managed without me. I don't think I was wonderful... I was a nutcase. Where do people get the fortitude to be caretakers? I don't have it. I can't do a thing for my mother, and I'm not much better with J.

Still had to run errands, get my own groceries, and of course heading back from his place the second time, there was an accident and traffic came to a standstill. We all poked along at about 10-15 miles an hour, the setting sun blinding us.

Home, sweet home. Unpacked my stuff and fell into bed, and was out like a light for a little over an hour. Now, I'm catching up with email and enjoying the peace and solitude.

Tomorrow? Another dose of stress release. Thank goodness. It couldn't be more timely.

Yes, I know, I'm perverse and twisted. I'm looking forward to pain. But with this pain comes a blissful relief. My mind shuts off and my body sings and thrums with endorphin surge. If I'm addicted, then so be it. Spanking won't pickle my liver or fry holes in my brain. Or bankrupt me. As addictions go, it's quite innocuous. :-)

Hope everyone is enjoying their long weekend.

Friday Hodgepodge + Question

No CHoS today -- I think I scared all the pervs away last week. :-)  Not to worry, they'll be back, I'm sure.

A bright spot in my Friday morning -- I got Chrossed! Again! Two weeks in a row! That's never happened before. Funny, I was just chatting with Craig last night about how some people write such creative and cool blogs that they get Chrossed week after week. This truly is the holy grail for spanking bloggers, folks. barely pink commented to me recently -- I can't remember the exact quote, but it was something along the lines of, "You know someone is important when their name has become a verb."

Side note: My entry that got Chrossed was the one about stress relief. This week, Devlin O'Neill also blogged about spanking as stress relief -- from a top's point of view. He got Chrossed as well. Excellent!

I'm not going to J's tonight. We decided that there's no point in my driving 30+ miles in Friday traffic to his place, just to watch his TV while he sleeps. (sigh) Instead, I will go there tomorrow morning after he's had a good night's rest and take him to lunch, spend the rest of the weekend. In every cloud there is a silver lining; we get to pass on taking his mother to lunch tomorrow, as we did last Saturday. Yes, I'm a bitch. :-Þ  For God's sake... I see my mother once every couple of months; we take J's mother to lunch every single weekend. Plus, she has three other grown kids, all local, who visit her and take her out as well. J can miss a couple of Saturdays.

Well, at least I get another dose of Stress-B-Gone on Monday. New Guy has the day off and is coming over that afternoon. He says he might even consider taking me out for a bite to eat if I'm a good girl. I guess I'll starve. :-D

Tomorrow, October 9, would have been John Lennon's 70th birthday. Seventy??? Un-freaking-believable. He'll always be a cheeky young "moptop" to me. The man who I said I would marry when I grew up (hey, I was six). The man whose death made me cry for two weeks. Happy birthday, John. And happy 35th birthday to Sean Ono Lennon, John's Beautiful Boy, also born October 9.

Question for you guys, along the lines of Chross's recommendations -- what makes you read a blog? There are so, so many of them out there. I don't know where Chross finds the time to read them all during each week to choose his list, but how about the rest of you? What draws you? Pictures? Stories? Stuff about the spanking video industry? Real-life D/D households? Humor? Which blogs do you read regularly, and why?

On that note, have a great holiday weekend, y'all.

Edginess

It's official -- Mother Nature has lost her mind. A week ago Monday, it hit 113 degrees in downtown Los Angeles. And it could have been higher, but we'll never know. The National Weather Service thermometer downtown, which has been keeping the temperature since 1877, broke at 1:00 p.m.

A week later? Cool, cloudy, rainy. Last night, I actually put on a bathrobe.

And by this weekend? Supposed to be back up into the 80s and 90s, and absolutely bone-dry. Blech.

For the moment, it's gray and cloudy. My window is open, and all is blissfully quiet save for the drizzle coming down and the occasional car sloshing by. My favorite kind of day. I'm still feeling some pleasant residual soreness from Monday night. Yesterday, I got the last of my dental work over with, and amazingly, my teeth aren't hurting today. I should be quite serene right now.

But I'm not. I'm edgy and nervous, feeling that free-floating anxiety that plagues me sometimes. I'm worried about J. Yes, it's stupid. He has the flu. Granted, it's a really bad flu. But he'll get better. I hope. See? There I go again. Of course he'll get better.

Yesterday was his birthday; I spoke with him last night. He sounded horrible; no better than he was last weekend. I hurt for him.

This coming weekend, we had plans. We have an annual ritual with a dear friend; each year, she gangs my birthday with J's and takes us out for dinner. We usually go back to her place afterward for coffee and birthday cake, and she fusses over us. Last year, she took us to a Groundlings show. Today, she emailed me to confirm... and I had to write back to her and postpone. I know he won't be well enough by Saturday to enjoy himself, and I don't want her putting out money and effort when it will be wasted. God, I hated doing that. I was so looking forward to seeing her.

Here's how crazy I am, kids. In my worried state, my mind starts to wander into projection, into future nightmares. This is what getting old looks like. This is what we have to look forward to; one thing after another. If your body doesn't fall apart, your mind disintegrates, or vice versa. And if you're lucky enough to stay healthy, then you end up being a caretaker to someone else.

Jesus! Am I a freaking mess, or what? No wonder I need stress-relief spankings.

Sorry to be such a downer. I thought about posting something else, coming up with some sort of interesting and controversial topic, but you know what? Fuck it. This is where I'm at today. This blog is nothing if not honest. This is Erica, tears and fears, self-centerness and all.

I will stay in the moment. Breathe deep, and listen to the rain. Feel the peace of this day. After all, this moment is all we have; the rest is unknown. And that's probably what drives me the craziest... but I won't think about it. Thinking is not good for me sometimes.

A two-parter

Part 1: Birthday greetings are in order. Two wonderful men, back to back -- Danny, October 4, and my sweetheart J, October 5. Danny, I hope you had a great day and enjoyed your greetings on FetLife. I tried to bake you a bacon-and-Hollandaise-sauce cake, but sadly, my projectile hurling kept interfering with the process.

J and I were supposed to celebrate his birthday this past weekend. However, he's been sick as the proverbial dog for two weeks and counting... he got the flu. Big time. In 14 years, I don't think I've ever seen him quite this sick. :-( 

A few tip-offs that he's more than a little sick:

1. He hasn't worked out for two weeks. This is unheard of. J will always exercise through an illness. The only thing he'll cut out is his bike rides. But the walks and the weights? No.
2. He can barely eat. And when he does manage to force something down, he can't stand anything with sugar or salt in it. J usually has a huge sweet tooth, and he loves salt so much, he refers to potato chips and nuts as "salt delivery systems." I had baked him some brownies from scratch, and he couldn't touch a bite. Normally, he can put away three of those things within five minutes of getting his hands on them.
3. He's shivering and bundling up into his jacket one minute and breaking a sweat the next.
4. He's taking Tylenol and Advil regularly and I don't have to hold his nose and stuff it down his throat.
5. He's sleeping and sleeping and sleeping, 10-12 hours at a time. This is a man who never sleeps more than six hours in one stretch.
6. Finally, this is the real shocker: He actually took himself to the doctor last Friday. I didn't say a word; never suggested it. Usually, I'd have to bug him for about six months before he'd go. They took blood, but basically told him, "You have the flu. Go home."

(sigh) Have I mentioned that I am a sucky nurse? I worry and fret and get nervous, feeling helpless and wishing I could just wave a magic wand and make him better. And seeing him suffer makes me want to cry. In fact, on Sunday, I did. Ugh. So after this weekend, I was very stressed out.

Which leads us into Part 2...

A week or so ago, Hermione posted about stress release through spanking. I am a strong advocate of this practice; I can blow off stress through exercise (or posting a rant), but nothing sends that tension for the hills like a good hard spanking. Enter New Guy, who paid me a visit this evening.

We played harder this time. Last week, he had a wide leather strap that turned out to be too long (it was wrapping), so we put it away. This week, he brought it again, showing me how he'd cut it down and now it was perfect. (says who???)

OTK in a straight-back chair for a warmup, then he said, "I think I want you over that ottoman." "You do, huh?" "Yes, I do." And he lifted me off his lap and carried me across the room, still horizontal, plunking me down on the ottoman. I do love that thing; it's very comfortable to lie on and there's room on either side for the spanker to stand, so he has room to swing and give equal time to both cheeks. Besides, if I'm reclining comfortably, I can fully focus on the discomfort happening elsewhere.

He was bolder this time, giving the sweet spots more attention. "Are you feeling this?" he asked. "Why do you ask such stupid questions?" I snapped. I then got a flurry that nearly sent me through the ceiling. "You want to ask me that again?" Uh... no. No, I'll pass, thank you.

Concerned because I was marking, he asked how I was doing, if I wanted more. Zoned out, I gasped, "My common sense says no; the pain slut in me says yes." He laughed. "Which one should I listen to?" "You decide," I said. He went for 10 more swats with the paddle and we were done.

After I returned to Earth, we watched a DVD (When Danny Met Erica, in honor of his birthday), and by then I was back to sassing (yes, already), so I got another spanking on the couch. Just his hand this time, though. :-)

I needed that. Who the hell needs Xanax -- bottle spanking and call it Stress-B-Gone.

Ow.... do you feel sorry for me?

Well, don't. I'm a happy camper. Thank you, New Guy. Thank you very much. :-)

I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight... zzzzzzzz....

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/1

Happy Friday, everyone. Some pre-weekend laughs for you.

Like your pix's and your bottom.......
Would love to spank..kiss and lick it..

You know, pix is short for pictures. Therefore, adding apostrophe + s to pix is redundant and makes you look stupid. Just thought you might like to know.

Lovely ass for spanking and whipping and much more ;)
you are hot cougar ;)

I do not want to know what the "much more wink wink" is. Go away.

you do prefer whitemeat correct?

Well, that depends. I don't care much for pork. But I do like chicken breasts. They're so much lower in fat and when prepared properly, they are as juicy and flavorful as thighs or drumsticks.

I trust this answers your question?

And finally, this gem:

My name Is Xxxx and I saw your profile and would like to know if you would like to have your own personal pussy eating/ass licking slave who will service your legs,pussy and ass orally in anyway that you desire.I just love sucking on pussy,licking a womans ass all over,rimming her and taking her verbal commands on how she enjoys getting pleased for as long as she desires.I can orally please you nonstop in anyway that you choose for as long as you enjoy it.I would love to be your new pussy eating/ass licking slave if you desire one.I look forward to serving you.

(groan) How do you serve someone orally when you never stop talking?

And again with all this pussy business. How many times do I have to tell you morons, leave my pussy alone?

Moving on... So I heard from New Guy, and he asked if he was "going to have to spank me again on Monday." I wrote back and said I didn't know about have to, but I'm sure he'd come up with some lame reason. His reply to that included this:

Monday 6:30 p.m. Expect to get what you deserve!

Well, you know, after a damn-near lifetime of therapy plus lots of positive reinforcement from friends and loved ones, I have come to believe that I am deserving of good things! So does that mean he's going to show up with a present? Nothing too expensive, dear, we just met. :-) But I appreciate the thought.

Have a great weekend, y'all. R.I.P., Tony Curtis.

EDIT: My blog about my belated birthday spanking got Chrossed today! Yippeeeeeeeeee! :-D