Reasons why I can't believe anyone in their right mind considers me an adult

• 8 am meeting?  Let's stay up until 3:30 reading trashy romance novels?
• Oreos?  Why, those sound like a fine breakfast!
• Lunch?  Wait, I'm supposed to eat again?  Ugh.  I'm hungry,  yeah, but there's no fooooood right here.
• OH GOD I AM SO HUNGRY AND THEREFORE ANGRY RAAARRRRGHGHG SMASH
• heheheheheheh accidental dong heheheheheheh
• Wait, you mean I'm supposed to listen to the voice mail, and then call people back?
• "Clean all the things? :(" (FYI, I laugh EVERY TIME I READ THIS)
• Fuck, I should really bring a lunch with me to work.  How about let's go to bed instead of packing one.
• DAMMIT IT'S 3 PM AND I'M AT WORK AND THERE'S NO FOOD AND I AM HUNGRY GODDAMN YOU ALL
• Spending six hours reading sex blogs, rather than do anything like, oh, laundry, cook, dishes, etc.?  Hell yeah.
• Nachos?  Totally an awesome dinner.

Number 7 - Your ex-

Frenzy -

I admit to having some mixed feelings about you.  I admit to indulging in some serious schadenfreude when I found out that you were married and miserable.  I admit that every once in a while, I miss you.

You were the first one to teach me that yes, people found me attractive.  That in and of itself makes our probably-doomed-from-the-start relationship worth it.  You liked me.  You wanted to kiss me.  And no one had ever been in my life like that before.

I didn't quite know what to do with that at the time.

Looking back, I can see the seeds of the person I am today in the person I was then, and know, with no sadness, that we wouldn't have been happy together for any significant length of time.  Our paths are for different destinations, even though we were beside each other for a while.  And having realized that, I can't be mad at you for not being able to give me what I needed.  It's not who you are, and there isn't anything wrong with that.

So, my memories of you are largely fond, and I can only hope you think of me the same way.
And wherever your path leads you, may the walk be good.

~s.

Well fuck me.

I've discovered that there is certain music that I really, really shouldn't listen to at work.

Backing up a moment.  As a coping skill, I frequently have my iPod going at work, with my headphones on.  It provides a layer of isolation from the environment that I really, desperately need right now.  I am so not capable of dealing with hearing people's conversations and being aware of when people are walking past and etc. and so on.  So it helps keep my stress level down, as well as helps me concentrate on work.

Problem is, there are certain songs that really, really get me thinking about things I probably shouldn't at work.  See, I'm a dancer, and dancing?  Dancing is just socially acceptable public foreplay.  Really good dancing is dirty.  And I can do hell of dirty dancing.

So, there's a lot of music I have specifically because it's very danceable, and lately, when I hear certain of the songs, good goddamn, my brain is treating me to all sorts of very, very dirty dancing scenarios, usually either with Hal or Jay.  And it frequently evolves from dancing - again, see also foreplay - to very explicitly sexual situations.

Apparently my brain thinks I need to make use of a very specific chair in my house.  For sexual purposes.

And apparently my brain thinks that I'm not having enough sex (actually, I agree with it on that).

You know, which is all well and good, except for the whole part where one, I don't have an office with a door, and two, I'm supposed to be, you know, working.  One of these days I'm going to have the wrong look on my face when the wrong fucking person walks by and that is just going to be a bad scene, y'all.

Well then!

I had my first experience with a Hitachi last night.  We'd actually bought it about, oh, a month ago, and Jay's been using it, but I have so far resisted.  I was... intimidated?  Concerned?  Hmm.  Well, not totally on board with having a Hitachi applied to me.

I mean, that sucker is fucking loud.

I was apparently in somewhat more experimental mental space last night - or at least willing to be talked in to things - because when Jay said "Oooh, let's try out the Hitachi" in the midst of our excited erotic fumblings, I said "Okay?"  Maybe it was just that I didn't feel like saying "no" yet again.

Yes, there was a question mark on that.

And... you know, it's different.  Not bad, definitely very intense.  But different.  It's definitely thrum-my, which I've heard.  And I found that for me, unlike most vibrators, it needs to not be applied directly to my clit.  Press it in to my pubic bone, above or below the clit?  Oh now that is delightful.  I highly enjoy the fact that everything vibrates.

Is it a game-changer?  Nah.  Did it totally rock my world and/or tilt it off its axis?  Nope.  Will I use it again?  Meh, probably.  I just can't see myself reaching for it repeatedly and often.  Of course, I don't reach for vibrators that often anyway, so that's really not super-surprising.

What is interesting is that the twiddly bits were not nearly as sensitive after orgasm as they usually are.  How much of that is the Hitachi and how much of that is just where I am on the sexuality swing (see also:  the other night, I masturbated to orgasm, and immediately wanted to go again), who knows.

So one Hitachi-assisted orgasm and one penis-assisted orgasm later, at 10 at night, I passed the hell out.  And woke up at 6 the next morning with my necklace still on.  Classy.

Obviously I needed that.

Oh god I hope not

So since it's my blog, I figure I can ask some really stupid questions here, right?

Long story short, next month Jay and I will be attending a public fetish-y event.  The reservation form for the event asks for scene names.

Neither of us fucking has a scene name.

Are scene names required?  Having never been to this kind of event before, I seriously have NO FUCKING IDEA.

Help?

Number 1 - Your best friend

SN-

I need to get drunk with you right fucking now because there are so fucking many stupid asshats in this world I can't even.

-SN2

Woo equality!

So in case you haven't heard, Proposition 8 in California was overturned today and ruled to be unconstitutional.

Which is fucking awesome.

The ruling itself is a thing of beauty - and of course I'm biased; I have this pesky belief that gender, sex, and sexual orientation shouldn't be reasons to discriminate against anyone - and names opposition to same-sex marriage for what it is:  an emotional or religious belief that same-sex couples are inferior to "opposite-sex" couples.

Now granted, I'm privileged.  I'm a white straight cis-woman; the only ways I could get more privileged would be to be a cis-man and skinny.  So yes, I'm doing a happy dance about this.  This means a lot of my friends who couldn't get married before can.  This means that they get something I do, that I get to share, that the eyes of the law can't look on them differently than they do me in one very significant and visible way.

Does this mean that everyone's equal?  Nope.  Does it mean that gay and lesbian people are equal to everyone else?  Nope.  It doesn't even remotely touch on anything else in "LGBTQQI" besides the "L" and the "G", and even then, only on one specific issue, the recognition of marriage.

There is still so, so much to do.  I am not in any way denying that.  I'd love to see transpeople included in ENDA.  I'd love to see DOMA and DADT repealed.  I'd love to see marriage redefined and poly relationships recognized.  I'd love to see actual equality, for fucking everyone.  This ruling, this ruling about one specific thing, is not even enshrined in law yet and could very well be overturned.

And maybe because I am so privileged, it's easier for me, even with all of that, to do a happy dance about this.  Maybe it's easier for me to be overjoyed that a symbol - a symbol - is step-by-step becoming more accessible for everyone, should they choose it. 

But you know what?  Fuck it.  This is another course of bricks in the big ol' house called Equality, and fuck it, I'm celebrating.