Dead Cow Girl is Riding Off Into the Sunset

The dungeon is like a confessional. My clients place the same level of confidence in me as they place in their doctors or their priests. While I never want to betray that trust, I want to share their experiences to help others understand the drives and desires behind kink, and that many people, he, she or ze, have those desires.

Dead Cow Girl was supposed to be a sand box in which I could play and practice my writing. It was supposed to be an outlet to process my feeling about a horrible dental experience I was going through, my impending IVF cycle as well as my clients, and the weirdness that is a monogamous Martha Stewart wanna be housewife who is also a Dominatrix. I also just wanted an excuse to write more. My friends have always told me I should write more. Although that may have just been a polite way of asking me to shut up.

I didn’t plan on using this blog as an excuse to fly off to blogging conferences leaving my husband home to learn how to parent. He is an amazing dad, a fun dad, a loving dad, a ‘lets build things with Legos in our pajamas all day’ dad. But he also has been known to ask me questions like, “what do I do to get him ready for school?” Well. He has all the same bits as you. Do all the same things to his bits as you do to your bits, minus the shaving and what ever it is that you do in the shower that takes so much time. No he doesn’t brush his teeth on his own and yes, you need to send him to school with a lunch. We both know he won’t eat it, but the teachers really frown on you not at least giving him the option.

So yes. THAT is why I keep going to blogging conferences. Even though the first time I came home to a toddler with a huge bruise on his forehead and a hair cut straight out of Dumb and dumber and the last time he ran my pet crab down the garbage disposal. ALLEGEDLY. All I know is that the kitchen is clean and the crab is gone. In his defense, he assumed the crab was secure in his bowl.

And I assumed that crabs didn’t have jet packs.

Either way RIP Emmett. We miss your little crab face.

I also didn’t expect to make friends, literally all over the world. I didn’t expect to make friends who I could never picture my life without. I didn’t expect to laugh and cry, celebrate and morn with them.

Also? Never imagined sites like Eden Fantasys and Lovehoney would send me fucking awesome sex toys and let me love on them (heh) or rip them apart as I saw fit.

Most of all, I never in my wildest dreams imagined that women from every walk of life would share their stories with me for Glitter. As my excuses not to release it to the public dwindle, I realize that while having a nickname like Dead Cow Girl and reclaiming a really painful time in my life may be cute and empowering, having to explain the story behind it to everyone I meet takes time and attention away from the Glitter Anthology.

So, in yet another destined-to-fail attempt to fit in, I will be changing my URL and handles to something a little less… Weird.

I promise the content will remain at the same level of weird that has me blocked from most of your work places.

Stay tuned.