Category Archives: Holy Matrimony Batman!
If you follow me on twitter (you all follow me on twitter, right?) you probably saw a lot of this fly by over the weekend, but I thought I would post a wrap up and give a shout out to a couple of my favorite things.
They are like Oprah’s favorite things, but generally with more strippers and booze. Which just so happens to be a couple of Portland’s favorite things, which is why we get along so splendidly.
And it’s not JUST a random stripper fest. This was a trip to celebrate our 15th anniversary, which we were told is the Crystal year. So, we had to go look for her. But we kept forgetting to ask their names. Which is pretty much means we just travelled around Portland breaking $20′s for $1′s and distributing them to all the pretty girls.
We did our best. I apologize if you did not get yours.
Or, if you got yours and you have no idea why some drunk chick stumbled up and stuck a dollar in your back pocket. That was why. She thought you were pretty.
Two months or so ago I came up with an impossibly bad idea and I gave my husband 48 days free of arguing about how much money I spend at Target for his birthday.
They said it couldn’t be done. And by they? I mean my husband. My mom. Most my friends. My neighbor. Pretty much everyone. In fact, no one said it could be done. Except my friend who buys everything on Etsy. I won’t tell you what she said, but I will tell you she was wrong.
It started as a joke. As a dare. As an impossibly stupid idea, but I was actually surprised at what I learned. I tried to stick to the spirit of the promise, which was to spend less on crap we really don’t need. Although, I will admit to taking an extra trip or two to Costco and the little home decor store near my house. I also tried to use the time to clean out the closets and purge the house of stuff we don’t need.
48 Days Free of Arguments About What I Bought At Target.
Every month when my husband is going over our budget I hear the same thing from his office. “Jesus Christ?! What exactly do they sell at Target?”
My reply is the stock, “Well, I went in to get *insert $10 item* but they were having a sale and then I found stuff in the clearance, plus I had that 5% off coupon from filling prescriptions so I thought it would be a good time to stock up on some other stuff we may or may not need. Plus, it’s cheaper then therapy.”
This exchange is generally followed by the sound of his head hitting the keyboard accompanied by some quiet weeping.
But, he forgets that, were I not able to waste hours in Target, that day I needed to have the car worked on? And it was cold out? Ok. Slightly chilly, but still. Monkey and I would have been stuck shivering at the park for fours hours and instead, we were snug and warm in Target, eating popcorn and looking at toys and kitchen stuff. And that was the day I found the new fabulous blanket!
This last month has been a bit of a whirlwind. And right in the middle of it, just like the Big One that hit Oz, I had to spend time with my MIL. I think we have agreed to just quietly dislike each other and talk about that fact behind each others back.
The day after they left, I actually found myself humming for the first time in … years? Probably since before the first miscarriage. Was it the fact that I finally got some sleep? Or that the Wellbutrin has kicked in? Or was it simply the fact that we had survived another yearly FOX news filled visit from the in-laws.
It was a lot like that first day after your period. The cramps are gone, the bleeding has subsided and you no longer feel like randomly murdering strangers for simply being cheerful.
I’m a Dominatrix. I train people for a living. I train them to do the most insane unprobable things. And you know what? They do them. Pain? Hypnosis? Coercion? Enticement. I can sum up my subject in a few well placed questions and invoke the proper technique.
* to always wear a certain item when visiting me
* to NEVER wear a certain item with visiting me
* To avoid eye contact
* to only approach me from the left
* to fetishize boots/shoes/heels etc
* enjoy incredibly tight painful nipple clamps
* not to cum unless given permission
* not to cum without feeling guilty and giving me presents *heart*
I was a madwoman when training my dog. Sit. Stay. Be so fucking cute I may die. He does it all. On command.
Step dad was finally released from infectious disease dr on Tuesday so, Monkey is and grandma and grandpas and we are off to Hawaii for a friends wedding in the same family house that DaddyO and I got engaged at.
The only flight left was first class.
We are coach on the way back, but I brought the rest of the pain pills from the miscarriage so we should be fine.
Will be in the air almost as long as we are actually there… But… Yippee!
Then home for a few days, then on the the rescheduled trip to Disneyland with my mom and monkey.
Then the FET on the 22nd.
Oh, and DaddyO was just offered three contracting jobs!
This month is coming together suddenly, and quite nicely! Nice departure from the shit storm of this last summer.
Oh, the double edge sword that is the sex life of a Dominatrix, or any sex worker really. And it’s not just my sex life I write about, but the sex life of the partner of a dominatrix or other sex worker. That person is in a specially sharp spot of that sword.
On the one hand, the good one I’m sure, the one that can do all the fancy stuff in the nether regions, there is the Openness (Sure! We can try that!), the hot friends (Sure! We can invite Miss HottyPants to dinner!) the cool cloths (Sure! I can wear that!) And his/her bragging rights to certain friends (Sure! I hit that! Fer Free!!).
On the other hand, the bad one that can’t seem to keep rhythm, there are a lot of issues. The I’m Too Tireds, the I Just Did That Today’s, the Jealousy and the Friends that think you are nuts, completely bonkers even, to date a sex worker. Seriously. DaddyO had friends not speak to him for years after we started dating.
Wow. So I kept hearing about them, but didn’t think I would be affected. But perhaps I had the whole thing wrong. You see, I though the post wedding blues were when the bride came home all married and returned to real life and no longer was the center of attention and no longer in the midst of spending more money on a party then they would ever spend in their lives and well… would get sorta depressed.
Yeah, I don’t have that.
Instead, I have 72 stitches in my mouth making it nearly impossible for me to talk. No heavy lifting and any exorcise makes my mouth throb. My house is a pile of half unpacked boxes and suitcases and my clients, for both businesses are calling and emailing because I’m late getting back on schedule. And I think my dog is threatening to move out if I don’t promise some more interesting walks to the park soon.
I would LOVE to get back to my pre-wedding life.