Needs less fat.

Chee and myself are ridiculous. How so? We invented a new kiss. We call it….

kiss, with spirit fingers:

Yes, we realize how utterly amusing we are. Thank you for your agreeance.

I cannot promise how long I’ll leave this up. My voice is high on caffeine and loss of sleep and whatnot. I posted this on the previous Mr. Rogers’ post, but I know NSM gets off on hearing me sing the Mr. Rogers’ theme song.

So I’m giving it it’s own post in the event I decide to keep it up.

Don’t make me regret this, children.

Mia Rogers’ Neighborhood

Working on a new layout. Anyone who still wants a link on it, please comment here and I’ll keep you on the main page. Otherwise, all links may be moving into a Links page.

PBS affiliates across the country are kicking Mister Rogers off their lineup to make way for “better” programming “more geared” to the 12 year old parents in this country. Please, please, please go to http://savemisterrogers.com and see what you can do to keep Mister Rogers on in your area. Yeah, today is seriously such a different time to grow up in as opposed to what we saw when we were kids. But Mister Rogers helped us all, and would be nothing but a good influence to today’s young people.

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And because no Mister Rogers post is complete without them, the intro of the show:

EDIT: by request, here is my rendition of the song. Enjoy. Mia Rogers’ Neighborhood

I’m a huge fan of beating myself up over miscellaneous bullshit from my past. HUGE FAN. I’m pretty good at it. And lately, much to my own dismay, I’m beating myself up over an ex.

I cannot even tell you how I started thinking about him. I was doing my own thing and then all of a sudden, BOOM! HAI WUTS HE UP TO?

He….. is dating.

And I suppose that, yeah, I’m a tad jealous that he’s dating someone that looks waaaaaaaay more put together on a regular day than I do on a great day. And yeah, it irks me that there’s photos of this woman with his friends - the same friends who spread lies that I was giving head in the VIP area of the club I hostessed at, the same friends that never gave me a chance.

And then I think about it and I’m not really jealous. Just very, very pissed off.

For you to understand, I have to start at the beginning.

It seriously was the Fates at work when I met him. I was on lavalife and it was just…….. UGH. Frustration. I’d never been on a dating website and it was seriously the most degrading thing ever. Lavalife - I refuse to link to them - has 3 different categories for you to choose from, or at least they did. One was for friends, one was for relationships, and one was for sex. Obviously, I was in the relationships area, and everyone and their fucking brother was still whispering to me and sending smiles, EVEN THOUGH their profile clearly stated that they wanted a fuck buddy. Oh, and lavalife is where I discovered that everyone decides the world should be in three groupings: Dominant, submissive, bisexual. because every. fucking. email I got was “you don’t mention it - are you Domme or sub? please say sub =)” Dude, I was 23 and FRESH out of my second long term relationship. I had no fucking clue what the fuck that crap meant, nor did I know why anyone would classify themselves as something. It’s like in 5th grade when Wendy and Chris kept trying to get me say that I wasn’t straight by saying “well, if you’re not straight, it’s totally cool. I mean, you have a really good personality - people with good personalities aren’t straight. And people that aren’t straight are FUN.”

/end childhood angst

Who cares that you’re Dominant or submissive? I honestly think that it was because of the times. Which sounds stupid because it was only 4 or 5 years ago, but still. I think everyone then was into BDSM because it was okay to be into it. Anyhoo, that’s what every frickin’ email asked me. “ARE YOU DOMME?” And eventually, I learned to stop saying that I had dominant and submissive tendencies because this brought everyone out of the woodwork.

FWOOOOOOM! Total swarm.

After 3 months and not one normal guy in site, I decided to cancel my membership. I’d rather be Myself and alone than with some asshole that tries to manipulate me into a Dominant or submissive role in the relationship.

THAT LAST SENTENCE IS CALLED “foreshadowing”.

SO, while I’m on the cancel page, I get an email from a boy. A cute boy, actually. His profile was….well, perfect. He’s the right age bracket, right height, right education, etc and so on. Brand new to the area, and sweet. I decide that, yes, I’ll talk to him. Membership cancelled, and I did walk away with ONE BOY. And we talked. ALOT. Like that thing you do when you talk to someone constantly because they haven’t heard all your shit and vice versa? Yeah, we did that. Great, great, great. We’re both in agreeance that we need to take it slow because of my previous relationship, so we do. But during the same conversation, we had a…. talk, I guess you could say. See, The Old Yankee called me that day and said, in these exact words, “Yeah, so if you come back, I guess we can get married and you can have a kid.”

Wow….. that’s so….. wow. Magnanimous. Thank you for allowing me the oh-so-obviously distinct honor of becoming your bride and carrying your spawn.

And that got me thinking. We had broken up not because I wanted kids and he didn’t, but because I got to the point where I wanted the right to choose if I had kids or not, and he was absolutely anti-kids. Which was a huge deal to me - outside of games and intrigues, I didn’t grow up wanting kids. I knew I didn’t want them right then, but it was my choice. And what if this new guy wasn’t into kids? So, I flat out asked: “are you open to the possibility of us one day having children?” Obviously, it threw him for a loop, so I told him about The Old Yankee calling. He immediately understood and said that he was open to the idea of them. To offer a sort of olive branch, I told him a few secrets of mine. And in response, he told me a secret - something that should have made me cover my ears and say LALALALALALA NO BAD TOUCH DADDY.

He told me….. that he really got off on the idea of being fucked in the ass.

I KNOW. I KNOW, OKAY? SO DONT SAY ANYTHING!

So, he tells me that it’s not a definite urge or anything - it’s just something he thought about when he got off sometimes. And I was okay with that, but i did tell him that while I do have a somewhat dominant personality, I’m not someone who’d be into doing that. I could try at some point, but that’s all I could promise.

And from there, we had our first date. Ten, actually, in three weeks. And all of them ended very chastely, nothing more than a kiss or so. That was our choice - to take it slow and make sure we liked each other.

On the eleventh date, we went to a bowling alley and made out in the parking lot before we went in. And while we’re making out, I decide to be nice to the guy and rub his cock outside of his jeans. I mean, two weeks of flirting and romantical notions? I’m a team player, dammit. So while I’m rubbing, I notice that he’s not responding how a guy would normally respond if a somewhat cute chick was rubbing on your junk through your jeans in a parking lot. I rubbed a bit harder, and still no response. And part of me thought, “……… he’s numb down there?” or something, so i squeezed as hard as I could.

And I’ll be damned if he didn’t get waaaay into it then. Stupid little submissive boy. Ugh.

Shortly after that date, we had sex and I got my first “comment” - I didn’t such his dick hard enough, but hey, that’s okay. It’s the first time we had sex and all, but just FYI.

Anytime someone says FYI to me, it’s to point out “hey, you did this wrong, here’s how to do it better.” ALWAYS. NEVER FAILS.

After the 6 month mark, the sex slowly died out and he eventually mentioned that “OHAIBB so i b thinkin dat….. idk….. i want 2 go c a mistress or summin elle oh elle.” After a LONG debate about this, I decided that, yes, I’ll allow you to see someone more experienced in D/s than i am, but there are ground rules:

a) absolutely no sex - Any Mistress worth her salt knows that you don’t have sex with your customers. But I was figuring that he’d go see “practicing” Mistresses - the ones on alt.com that decide to play Mistress on weekends.

b) absolutely no kissing - this is key. I view kissing as cheating. Hell, I view serious TALKING as cheating.

c) I am still priority in the relationship - meaning, if we have plans, you’re not going to break them to go get your dick beat on.

d) If you do this, our sex life comes back eventually. - I’m not going to go without sex and kissing and ANYTHING just so you can go have fun.

He agrees and that was that. He’d tell me he was going out. He’d say, “hey, I’m gonna go have drinks.” WHY LIE? It was my decision to let you go, so tell me where you’re going. “Okay, I’m going to meet someone from alt.com.” SEE, EASY. My life is already hard because I’m dealing with this shit - don’t make it worse by lying to my damn face. So he’d go on his dates - yes, they were DATES in my little eyes - and I stayed home. After several months, a move still hadn’t been made. I wasn’t going to throw myself at him; the last time I did that, it ended with me sucking a half-hard cock and him patting me on the shoulder, telling me that “it’s okay”. And this isn’t a case of not knowing how to suck dick, trust me. Unless EVERY DICK I SUCKED HAD NEVER BEEN SUCKED BEFORE, AND THUS THOUGHT THAT THE ORAL PLEASURE I WAS BESTOWING UPON THEM WAS LIKE MANNA ITSELF.

I really doubt that was the case. I mean, come on. A 16 year old wrestler, never getting sucked off by a gf or his teammates? A FORTY YEAR OLD MAN not into blow jobs. Here, while we’re at it, show me Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. And I’m pretty sure snow flurries were sighted in Hell.

So yeah, NOT throwing myself at him. Because the only thing gotten from that experience was disappointment and embarrassment on my end.

I mentioned the no-sex thing to him and he was very “well, I haven’t hung out with anyone I click with.”

…………. *blink* ………… *blink*

ORLY? SRSLY? Eight months and NO ONE? *SNORT*

What. The fuck. EVER. I was pissed. Almost irate. I mean, ya’ll…. I wasn’t even getting KISSED at this point. Pfft. Nada. NOTHING. And the answer to the maybe-obvious question: “Why didn’t he go buy time with a Mistress?” Because he was a cheap bastard. That’s why.

One day, he randomly picks on the fact that, hey, I gained weight and I wear my pjs all day. Okay, yeah, I might have gained weight, and I might wear pjs all day, but wouldn’t you think that there’s a …. i dunno…. REASON for all of that, aside from the work-at-home thing? So I tell him, “My boyfriend won’t kiss me, fuck me or spend time with me, and hasn’t for over a year now. So….. I’m thinking that me wearing pjs is FINE.” He proceeds to tell me that maybe he would be attracted to me if I hadn’t “let myself go”. “Maybe I wouldn’t have “let myself go” had my boyfriend been able to get his dick hard for his GIRLFRIEND THAT MAKES PORN.”

*snap*

After that………. I’m not sure if I’d call it female intuition or what, but I randomly got the urge to check his email. Never had that urge before - I see no need to read someone’s emails at ALL - but it was like if I didn’t check his email, I would die. Like, I HAD to do it. So I checked it and my suspicions were confirmed.

Apparently, my submissive boyfriend - the one that that couldn’t get it up for me - was having an affair with a married woman.

A submissive. Married. Woman.

Yeah. I mean, who knew that all that time he was supposed to be getting pounded on by Mistresses, that he was actually pounding other subs. Huh. I don’t know how far it went, granted, but obviously it was bad enough for them to comment lovey-dovey on each other’s myspaces - I would post evidence, but it appears that he’s deleted the incriminating comments.* Probably because the email I saw was from her husband, asking him how he’d feel if his wife was cheating on him and he had two young kids at home.

Yes, I did feel vindicated when he came home and looked depressed. Surely did. Had a hard day at work? Gee, that’s a shame.

The last straw came when he spent another SEVERAL months doing his “sub” thing, and I did what all women do when left up to our own devices: I got snicky.

I created a profile on collarme.com. Grabbed some photos of a cute chick on myspace, and turned into a 5′10 thin blonde Domme. Nothing really on my profile to make me stick out, right?

WRONG. He took the bait the very first night it was up, and wanted to chat on yahoo. So, we did. He told “me” that his bitch of a girlfriend was withholding sex and didn’t understand his needs, but was apparently okay enough that he could find a Mistress on his own.

ORLY?

What’s sad is, all the things I told him when I was answering his questions of “why do you do this” and “what do you find attractive?” I wasn’t lying. Not a lick. But I was so disgusted by that point, so I ended things with the conversation, promising to meet in the next few days.

Quick fact: Yahoo has this lovely feature called “profiles”. You can make a profile to add to your current messenger name and that profile is separate. The only thing is, if one person has both your real name and your profile name on their messenger, they’ll see that you sign on and off at the same time.

So I signed off.

Immediately, I get a “……………. MIA?” I go in there and use my “Who, me?” face. He says “Why did you do that?”

What did I do? I made a profile and answered questions. And the only thing that was “lying” was the picture and my stats on the profile. How is that any more wrong?

Obviously, he was busted - oh, but I was in trouble. Oops. It’s my fault mankind fell because Eve ate the apple. SORRY!

He didn’t talk to me for a while after that, which was fine with me - I started looking for a place to live. And randomly, one day he told me that he “couldn’t do it anymore” and he moved out.

I told you all of this so I could get to this part: I get horribly depressed when I think about anyone wasting my time. Henry Rollins said it best in one of his skits: people are killing you one minute at a time. Time is a commodity that you can’t “owe” or “pay back”. And maybe that’s why I’m always in such a hurry. I KNOW how valuable time is, I truly do. That’s why I’m always hounding Chee about moving in together or getting married. Because the sooner we start our lives together, the longer we have together. Yeah, the getting married thing is a big deal to some people. But in my eyes, we were “married” when I lived with him until February. Nothing’s going to be drastically different if we sign a piece of paper - except that it’ll show certain parties that we’re serious and we’re in this for good.

When I think back to the past, and all the things I’ve done, I get embarrassed or sad or angry or depressed. “why didn’t I say that?” “Why did I let him do that?” Why the hell, for the love of GOD please tell me, did I spend so long on someone that yeah, we might have gotten along really well aside from the sex thing or LACK thereof. But there was absolutely NOTHING there as far as sex goes - shit, the sex wasn’t even that good. He was just going through the motions and I was just so glad to be with someone that wasn’t solely about sex.

GAH. I embarrass myself so fucking hard sometimes.

And I keep thinking back to that moment in the car. I should have KNOWN that that moment would in effect chart the entire relationship. Had I not wanted to be nice and rub his dick, then I wouldn’t have wasted my FUCKING TIME on someone like that.

It may not seem like i’m over it, but i really am. I suppose the reason for my brat rant is that in my eyes, it’s not okay for him to be in a relationship and be happy right now. Because I wasn’t happy for so long and out of all of it, I didn’t get an apology or acknowledgement that “yeah, sorry that my fetish became bigger than it should have been.” I’m so pissed at myself for not saying something to him alot sooner, and even worse, I’m pissed that I touched his dick that night.

Let that be a lesson ladies (and Firefawkes) - don’t touch peepees. They will cheat on you and never want sex.

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[*it's okay, though. i couldn't screenshot anything on his computer, so I did the next best thing - video'd it all. And I still have the tapes. I shall share them with you one day.]

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EDITED TO ADD: okay I’m getting the wrong reaction here. I’m not jealous because he’s dating. I’m jealous because he’s putting effort in that he never did with me. Like I wasn’t worth anything except as a name on a lease and a cook and a housekeeper. Sort of driving my own self worth down, you know? I guess that by now, I have yet to realize that the world isn’t a fair place and just because he made me suffer, that doesn’t mean that he ever did. That’s all, okay? I don’t want him back because HAHAHHAHAH TRAINWRECK. Besides, as much as this whole thing hurt, it made me more appreciative of Chee and his affections. Everything is a learning experience, and I learned so much from this relationship - things that make my relationship with Chee even better than I thought it could be. So there you go. Someone using their blog for therapeutic purposes. Who knew?

EDITED TO ADD:

I lied. THIS is it. LOL WUT?

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EDITED AGAIN TO ADD:

ZOMG you guys, I found so many Mildly Amusing Videos that are so mildly amusing that I have to now call them ZOMG WTF? VIDEOS OF THE DAY. OBSERVE.

Yes, I had enough votes to catapult into the winning group and be in the HOT BLOGGERS CALENDAR - coincidentally, I keep typing that as “hot BLOOGERS calendar”. HEY, you try typing it fast!

I’m not sure why exactly I made it that far, as the title is “hot bloggers” and this was not a beauty pageant, as a photo was not required for entry. I guess people somewhat like my writing? Eye dee kay. But hey - now I’m in the Hot Bloggers Calendar. WOOT! I’m going to petition for December. Hey, as long as I’m a winner, right? *shades*

Thank you, thank you, thank you to every single fucking one of you that voted. I totally appreciate it. And to show my thanks, when I dominate your puny little planet, I shall kill the voters last, because that’s how much I care.

Or if you beg enough, I’ll just put you in the breeding program.

Yesterday, for the first time, I saw my “first” nephew.

Now, Chee has two nephews, so I consider them partially mine- regardless of how shitty their mother has treated me (and believe you me, I’ve never been treated so harshly in my entire LIFE - this is coming from someone that was abused as a kid, okay?). And my adopted sister has……. two boys now, I think? And my adopted brother has two and my half brother has one. So this is not my first rodeo as far as having a nephew goes. Try telling that to my mother.

She whined and prodded and eventually begged me to help her watch the baby on Saturday night, since she can’t use her shoulder because of recent surgery.

I didn’t mention her surgery before? That should show you how much I’m “loving” dear ol’ ma, now, shouldn’t it?

And if I don’t help, my brother will miss his debut as a rap star.

Yes, you read that correctly, but that’s a totally different post - complete with proof.

SO I did what I always do in those situations when I can’t get out of seeing her - I dragged Rynie along. We got out there about an hour after departing, and the whole way, I was psyching myself up for it.

For the new folks…. I’m not a fan of my mother, mostly because after my dad left, she became a shitty mother* growing up - spending money meant for the electricity on partying and drugs, forgetting to buy food for the house so the only time we ate was at school for lunch (only because the state paid for them), having verbally and physically abusive boyfriends. I mean, okay, so ignorance is one thing. But I refuse to believe that a solid 10 year block of time can be chalked up to ignorance - because she also verbally abused us. I cannot tell you how many times I was called fat, and this was when I was 5′ and 95lbs and still growing - and guess what, I still get called fat. She spent the first 26 years of my life telling me that I didn’t need to ever get married or have kids (and we’re talking, she was HOUNDING me not to do it) and for the last two years, hounding me when I’m going to do it.

It’s all just very mentally draining. I think Rynie got a taste of it yesterday, but I told her later that Succubus was on her best behavior - which is really saying something about her.

As usual, I got the “when are you getting married”/”when are you having a baby”/”when are you moving over here” BS. Let’s review our stock answers, shall we?

“When are you getting married?” Real Answer: At the rate I’m going, I doubt I’ll be married before 30, and I’m really, REALLY not holding my breath on that one. Mom Answer: One day.

“When are you having a baby?” Real Answer: Look, I don’t want a baby. Yes, I may want to shiv someone to get pregnant because of my hormones and I may sacrifice a puppy for a toddler at this point, but I don’t want a “baby”. I feel like a bull in a china shop around them, and I don’t do “baby” very well. I just want them to be older so I don’t have to be so worried and they have much more vivid reactions to someone playing with them. Mom Answer: Hopefully after the wedding.

“When are you moving down here?” Real Answer: When Hell freezes over. Mom Answer: When Hell freezes over.

And yes, BB Xerxes is adorable. Looks just like my brother when he was that little - which would be why my mother is acting like BB X is her kid and doing all the work as far as taking care of him. It will not shock me at all if this kid grows up thinking that I’m his aunt and Teh Childe is his brother. Yeah, this kid will totally get a Jack Nicholson done on him.

OH. And I saw his girlfriend, the now-18 yr old? Gorgeous. Pixie-sized. I come up to my brother’s shoulder, and she came up to mine. I felt like an ogre around her. Hopefully, the kid will grow up and be averaged-sized, or at the most, as tall as my brother. I hope he’s not my height. That would SUCK for the poor babe.

I didn’t get any new pics of him, but I have some on my phone that Succubus sent over, so I’ll upload those when I can.

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[*okay, yes, the only thing i truly learned during that time was that if someone ever hit me, I'm going to hit them back. I watched her cower and heard her scream way too many times for me to just stand around and let someone beat me. so in a way, I do owe her for showing me what sort of person I can be.]

It has been exactly 60 days since I’ve had sex. Excuse me while I go kill myself.