I Like Butch Girls And I Cannot Lie

From the International Herald Tribune: This is Yvonne Buschbaum, a German track and field athlete who took sixth place in the women's pole vault at the 2000 Sydney Olympics. Buschbaum announced this week that she is retiring from track and field and that she will become a man.

"I feel as if I am a man and have to live my life in the body of a woman," Buschbaum said in a statement on her Web site. (The statement has been translated from German to English.) "I am aware of the fact that transsexuality is a fringe issue, and I do not want to be responsible for it remaining on the fringe." Although gender reassignment will likely involve Buschbaum taking hormones that are on the World Anti-Doping Agency's list of banned substances, Buschbaum says she has not taken any performance-enhancing drugs during her athletic career. "I do not dope," she said, adding that her "upcoming hormone treatment" contributed to her decision to quit, as did a persistent injury.

When I read the story above, I wondered, "Would I stay with my woman if she had gender reassignment surgery?"

Honestly, I would. She would still be her, just with different toys attached.

Does it turn me on a little bit? Yep.

Would I still be a lesbian? I'm not sure.

If She Only Had Hands

The Thursday before Christmas, I arrive home to a gigantic package on the front porch. My Ex the Redneck and I used to have a Dog Store and Doggy Day Care. I recognized the box as a Bowsers Dog Bed or probably just the insert since Trace already has all the covers that she needs.

I drag the big assed 6' tall box into the house where my girl and the doggies are relaxing. We unpack it and stuff it inside Trace's old cover that still looks brand new after 8 years. (Honestly, if you need a dog bed...I cannot recommend them highly enough!)

Trace is thrilled. I am not.

I have told her not to contact me. She insists on driving an HOUR from her new home to get her hair cut at the same place I do, to go to the same chiropractor, doctor, etc. in hopes of running into me.

She thinks that it's a shame that we are throwing away 10 years together.

Is there any hope of us ever getting back together? None. Hell freezing over scenario.

How about being friends? Never.

After being treated like a princess for the last 18 months, I just can't see the point. Why would I allow My Ex the Redneck back into my life after 10 years of being hit, screamed at, held at knifepoint and generally abused? Thank you, I think I've had enough. I'm slow, granted it took me ten years, but I've finally learned.

I'm sure she was hoping that I would call her and thank her for the thoughtful gift.

Did Trace need a new bed? Yes, she did. Is Trace grateful? Yes, and I'm sure she'd call if she only had hands.

Score One For Mom

My mother is the typical Cookie-Baking, Clean House, June Cleaver of a mom. She's sweet, tries to do good, doesn't fib, goes to church every Sunday.

She just told me that My Ex The Redneck called Christmas Day and wanted her to tell everyone that was at my mom's house hello for her. This would be my mom's two sisters, their children, etc. People that she knew for the 10 years we were together. My family. Not hers.

She looks at me sideways from her office and smiles. She didn't do it.

"That wasn't very nice of me was it?"

I just raised my eyebrows.

She lied. She told My Ex The Redneck that she would. She didn't do it.

I'll not be saving her a seat on the front row of Hell. She has no clue how to be bad.

I'm Needing Some Cold Meds...

Because I have a cold and wicked gas at the same time. Sneezing just isn't safe right now.

Happy Holidays Ya'll!

Today's my last day at the office until next Wednesday, so I wanted to leave you all with a little holiday cheer. I know that I neglect the ladies, so here. Drool all over your monitors! Poor ol' Santa looks tired doesn't he? Who wants a special delivery? ;)



I could never leave my menfolk out. They need a little eye candy, too! Personally, I think she looks a little warm. She should take off that satiny top.

And what's she blowing at? Anybody got a clue? Is she picking nits off of her skirt?

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas!

The Good Ol' Days

Sitting around doing nothing the other afternoon, the phone rings. It's the little girl that I know.

Me: Hi Sweetie, what's going on?

9 yr. old: Not much, just going to school and stuff.

*notice lack of segue here

9 yr. old: Remember when we went out for our girly day and you said you MIGHT give me a pedicure for my birthday (which was three weeks ago and I got her something else.)

Me: Mmm hmmm.

9 yr. old: When can we do that?

Wow, now there's a close. Did I just buy a time share?

Me: I'm not busy Wednesday, would you like to go with me then?

Of course, then I have to get on the phone with her Mom to work out the details. Apparently, the kid's schedule is too full to do it when I can.

When did 9 year olds get so busy?

At 9, my biggest worry was whether or not my red transistor radio battery was good or not. I'd ride my pink bike with the psychedelic banana seat from the time I got home until dark listening to 103.5 FM. Eat dinner. Do some homework. Scouts on Tuesday. That's about it. Of course, I had chores and we did stuff, but we weren't on the go every night of the week. And needles for the record player...THAT was important.

When did keeping kids constantly entertained/busy/amused become such a priority?


P.S. Yeah, I know, I'm bitchy lately. Deal with it. I've not gotten any this week! At least I gave you all a little eye candy up top. It's something.

Time to Bitch

I know it's easier for you. You say I'm "hard" to buy for. Screw that. If you don't know me well enough to pick out something that I'd like, just let it go. Let's stop the gift exchange that's gone on too long. Same for money in a little envelope.

I despise gift cards. It's like giving me money that I have to spend at the store YOU want me to go to. I usually just end up giving them away. There should be a swap meet for those cards. So you could trade 'em off for someplace you do like to shop.

If you don't know me well enough to give me a real gift, perhaps we should just go to dinner and drink some wine. Then you'll at least know I that like good wine.

P.S. Thanks to Dana, I did my research and found this site: http://certificateswap.com/

Dreams DO Come True

Last night, I'm in bed first and my girl is wandering around naked doing before bed butch stuff. She wanders in front of me.

Me: Why don't you do a little titty dance for me? You know, shake 'em for me a little bit? Put 'em in my face.

You already know this NEVER works. Doesn't work for most men. Doesn't work for me. I have no clue why I keep asking. Probably because she always just laughs, rolls her eyes and continues on doing what she's doing...naked.

She turns the lights out. I close my eyes and wait for her to snuggle into bed.

FLAP. FLAP-A-FLAPPA-FLAP. FLAP. FLAP-FLAP-FLAP. FLAP-FLAP.

I am BOMBARDED by boobs. They're everywhere! In my face, smacking me in the eye, whapping against my ears.

We both started laughing and that's the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep. Boobs and laughter.

What a great night! I'm still smiling!

Since I Am Wordless...

and it's not even Wednesday, I give you someone who makes me laugh damn near every time I read her, Crystal from Boobs, Injuries and Dr. Pepper and the antics of her dog, Dusty.

Check out Sneaking Around, her latest post.

Or if you're not yet in the holiday spirit...check out Biscuit in all of her splendor! You'll not even need any jelly for this one! ;)

I think it's the impending doom of a mammogram this afternoon at 2:45pm that's stolen my words. Anybody wanna come along and hold my hand?

G-man Is The Shit!

Yesterday, upon arriving home, a huge package was leaned against the wall on the porch. No attempt to hide it. Mr. FedEx obviously has no snowman magic.

I knew that I had some kind of photo coming from G-man. He didn't explain what it was...just said to keep an eye out for a package. This is my booty from the Pay It Forward Game we played a while back. He let me play since he only had four people take him up on the challenge.

Opening it, I find this lovely adornment for my walls:


First off, the photo is gorgeous! It's a cool, misty morning on a river with perfect reflections of the trees in the water. But that's not the coolest part. It's hard to tell from my crappy photo of it, but it's comprised of small squares and that give the photo a really cool dimensional look.

I saw it and I knew where it had to go. The guest bath is precisely THAT color of green in his photo. It looks AMAZING in there!

Thanks G-man! You are the shit! I'll play Reindeer Games with you ANYTIME!

Hiding Boxes 102: Grade D-

I'm not sure what goes on at the UPS Training Centers, but apparently there's a class called Hiding Boxes 101. I think my guy passed that one. Because sometimes, there's a thin package under my front door mat or it's slipped in between the front door and the screen door. But the advanced course either wasn't available or he didn't need it to graduate to UPS Dude with Truck.

Here's what I found upon arriving at my home yesterday:



Look more closely and you'll see the problem:


If he's trying to hide my box, apparently there are issues with people stealing boxes from front porches. Unless they are trying to find my box from an aerial view, Mr. UPS' plan isn't going to work.

Now perhaps I've watched too much David Blaine and Criss Angel, but for me, there is no magic here. Especially when it's containing about $100 worth of Tassimo Starbucks T-disks to use with my Cappucino Foaming Creamer. A little sugar/cinnamon on top and I've kicked my FourBucks habit.

Does anyone here have a problem seeing the huge box with a snowman rug covering the top. Or am I just incredibly clever?

Do You Want to Hear What I Try To Say?

Dana's Sunday Secret got me to thinking.

"I'd rather hear my husband say, "You are beautiful" than hear him say, "I love you," but he has never said those words ...

I tell my girl daily how fantastic she is. In bed, I scream, "Oh GOD!" even though she says I can just call her by her name. I tell her I love her. That she's the best girlfriend that I've ever had on every level. That she's phenomenal in bed. I rave over her cooking/grilling. I appreciate what she does around the house. I adore the flowers she brings home to me.

But are those the things that SHE wants to hear?

They are the things that I'd like to hear, so I assume that's what she wants. But Dana made me wonder.

Do you know what your husband/wife/partner/lover/girlfriend wants to hear?

Because I want her to know. I want her to be totally aware that I think she's the cats meow.

But what if she's secretly wanting to hear something that's never occurred to me to say?

Do you get to hear what you want to? Because, like Dana...I don't always.

Ocean's Depths Dichroic Bracelet in .925 Silver

Dichroic glass was developed by Nasa and transmits one color while reflecting another. Here's a little info from Kincaid Designs for the geeks:

A glass which contains ultra-thin layers of aluminum, chromium, silicon, zirconium or the metal alloy titanium. The colors are almost holographic in appearance. Metallic oxides are bonded to the glass using an electron bombarder inside a vacuum chamber under strict laboratory conditions. Once the coating has adhered to the glass, it is fired in a kiln to make it permanent. The angle of the glass within the vacuum chamber determines the color. In actuality, there is no color produced. What you are seeing is pure light manipulation at it's finest.The appearance will be different depending on whether the light is reflected or transmitted.

As requested by Doggy, here's a pic of the only Dichroic Bracelet I've ever made. I've never put this one up for sale, since I thought it was lovely and I might not make another. But time has come to get back to the kiln.

It's comprised of eleven dichroic cabachons (about the size of a woman's pinky print) on a .925 silver bracelet. Brand new, never worn...only admired from afar and going for half-price at $75.



Thank you all for your kind words. You'll never know how much you've inspired and motivated me. I actually WANT to get back to my big, hot kiln. This hasn't happened in a long time. I've associated it with a difficult time in my life. No need to avoid the kiln any longer. It's not the kiln's fault. And it does bring me such joy. I love working with glass!

I'll put up pics of the remainder of my inventory soon in case anyone is interested in getting their holiday shopping done without leaving their easy chair.

Honestly now folks....

What do you think of the art below?

It's a pic of one of my jewelry pieces...dichroic glass on a silver bail. The colors are blues, blacks and golds. It's been fired to over 1500 degrees in my kiln, shaped, refired, reshaped and annealed overnight.



Are you reading anything that I'm writing or are you just looking at my beautiful piece of jewelry?

It's pretty, huh?

Wondering about the model yet? It's my favorite jewelry model, Dana from Amid Life's Crises. She's also my only jewelry model! Head on over to her blog to find out just how tough her titties are!

Thanks, Dana!

Birth Control Glasses

My girl and I needed new glasses. My old ones were from 10ish years ago, since I only use them to watch TV at night. I tried on damn near every pair in the store. They all looked like hell. I guess I'm stuck in 1983, the year that I graduated high school. In 1983, I would not have been caught DEAD in these glasses. We would have called them Birth Control Glasses.

But nowadays, I see all the hip folks in them and since it's just going to be me and the TV mostly, what harm could come?

At the store, my girl thought they looked adequate. She made no big deal. The saleslady was easily 10 years older than me and stuck in 1973. I could tell she didn't really care for them. But I kinda liked them, so I ordered them.

As you may remember, I owed my girl a night on the town for the Christmas lights.

Friday night, I got all dolled up. Curled my hair. Deep kohl liner on the eyes. Glossed my lips. Big oval hoop earrings.

And put my new glasses.

My girl comes home. As she turns the corner, her eyebrows raise. She thinks they make me look like a school girl!

We had a fantastic dinner at Sperry's in Cool Springs. (Dana, the Maytag Stuffed Filet was wonderful!) They have a wonderfully fresh salad bar and we shared mushrooms and a twice baked potato with a lovely bottle of Cab/Merlot

I took her out to hear a little music and we got our groove on at The Lipstick Lounge.

When we got home, we played Professor and Naughty School Girl. I got extra credit.

She put up more Christmas lights over the weekend. Coincidence? I think not.

Under The Weather

Instead of under my girlfriend. Pisses me off that I've got the bad belly, but what's a girl to do?

I'll be back. Just wanted to say "Hi Ya'll" and if I haven't been by to say "Hey" it's because I've got the funk.

Here's a little somethin' to make ya'll smile....



___

In The Spirit

After 41 years of picking the shittiest butches in town, I got on the internet last year and found me a good one from Georgia. She came with a big boat. How this happened is only explained by saying that the good Lord looks after me. The chances of me finding a good woman vs. a serial killer on Myspace were damn slim.

I offer you proof of my good butch...

Night before last, I drive up to the house listening to the woes of a friend who isn't so lucky to find Candy Cane Lane! She had put out all of my candy cane lights AND bought me some little snowmen walkway lights. I hung up the phone and squealed with delight. I walked in the house to find the tree in the living room covered with lights. (Not decorated...THAT would be my part.) My heart swelled with love.

Guys, you have no idea how much stuff like this means to us girly types. Seriously. So to thank her, I'm taking her out on a date to Sperry's in Cool Springs. I'm considering putting out as well.

If you're not in the spirit just yet...click HERE to see how Santas are trained. Great fun! Or put up some lights and trees for your significant other and watch the sex roll in!

Note to Buffalo:
My girl decline benched 120 for 6 reps last night....twice! Looks like I need to lose a little weight before I do any face sitting if your advice is to be taken! But I might put out anyway.

Tag I'm It

I have been tagged by G-man from Man Overboard with a 7 odd facts meme.

THE RULES are as follows:

* Provide a link to the person who tagged you, and spell out the rules of the meme on your blog.

* Share 7 (seven) random and/or weird facts about yourself.

* Tag 7 (seven) random bloggers with this meme and post links to their blogs at the end of this post.

* Let those who have been tagged know so by leaving a comment on their blog, and telling them where to find information regarding the meme they are now obliged to do.



1. The world revolves around me. It's taken me entirely too long to realize that perhaps I am one of those high-maintenance bitches. I have been called spoiled and brat for well, always, but I thought they were kidding since I'm an only child. I'm coming to think that they weren't. That they appreciated not my princessness. The weird part is...I'm a spoiled brat and I KNOW it.

2. My thumbs are on backwards. Yep, God flubbed my digits and now I'm cursed with these backward thumbs. If I hold my right thumb up to my left hand...it looks normal. HOW does THAT happen?

3. I prefer to GIVE rather than RECEIVE (except during sex and then I like both). This is precisely why I ADORE the Christmas season. It's my reason to blow all my extra money on the ones that spoil me!

4. I taste like strawberries, or so I've been told.

5. My doghter, Trace is diabetic and I am her nurse giving her insulin shots twice daily for the last 2+ years. We also test her blood sugar at every meal just like people do.

6. I weight train with powerlifters and can decline bench 160 pounds (not bad for a girly girl) and leg press 610 pounds.

7. My mother never weaned me from the purse strings. Just last week I received a Thanksgiving card with $100 bill in it. It always happens. (see #1) I get cards/money for all holidays including the 4th of July! I love my Mom!


I'm not a tagger. I never could run fast enough to play (fat girl). And I never have been one to follow the rules. So, play if you wanna, just let me know in the comments and I'll come see!

Happy Thursday, Ya'll!

Oh hell...

"What is the difference between what you think you want to do...

and what you're doing?"



This question was in an inspirational email forwarded to me recently. Great. Now, I have a brain fuck.

I thought I wanted to lose weight. But I've basically maintainted my weight for the last two weeks.

I guess what I really wanted to do was eat.

Now back to our regularly scheduled diet.

Made In The USA

I admire folks that actually THINK about where the products that they buy are made. Sadly, it's not me. Don't get me wrong, I don't support child labor, nor do I think that it's fair that anyone works umpteen hours a day for damn near nothing, but it's not the deciding factor in whether I would buy Item A over Item B. I'm more of a style girl. Plus, I'm big. If it looks good and it fits...good enough for me.

I'm always confused about where to draw that line. Is it okay if some of the components are made in the USA...or even assembled? That's giving someone jobs, right? The people that sell it here in the USA make money and can have a store because of that item. That gives someone else a job. Maybe I over-think?

On Sunday, after our gluttonous brunch at The Opryland Hotel, we walked the in-laws around Bass Pro Shops. For hours and hours.

The Mom was SERIOUS about finding items that were made in the USA. She would pick up a shirt, look at it for style, check the tag for where it was made, then decide on whether or not to buy it.

I had no idea how few items were made here by us. Sri Lanka, the Phillipines, and China dominated the women's section.

My girl finally finished making her selections (aka her Christmas presents), her Mom paid and we dragged ourselves back to the parking lot.

We hopped in her Mom's Mercedes Station Wagon and made our way home. Maybe it was too big to turn over?

I Hate It When She's Not Drinking Martinis

Because frankly, there's not NEARLY as much to laugh about.

I can't remember when I've laughed so hard. Me, My Girl and Her Dad were on the couch. Her Mom was in the Big Leather Chair. Our tickle boxes got turned over. You know how when the harder you try NOT to laugh, the more you laugh, until you can barely keep YOUR martini in the glass.

After her Dad and I whipped their asses at Euchre, we retired to the living room. Her Mom asked me to turn it onto the weather channel at 8:30pm. Done.

For the next hour, she asked me every ten minutes why they weren't showing the weather in Destin, FL...their destination today. She's completely puzzled. We just kept telling her to wait, they'd eventually show it.

She didn't have all her teeth in. Itsch hard to keepsh them in whenshyoure drinkingsch.

It went something like this:

Swatsch thesh sweathsher goingsh to be in Deschtin tomorrow? Schwen are they goingshto schow it? (points 5th martini glass at the tv and shakes it) Drink. Repeat. Drink. Repeat. You get the picschure.

Trembles of laughter rock the couch. Her Father tells us not to laugh at Her Mother as tears roll down his cheeks.

Could it be because the Weather Channel isn't psychic? Damn Weather Channel.

Welcome to Nashville!

Thanksgiving Planning

The in-laws are arriving this afternoon.

You KNOW what that means....quiet sex, if any sex at all.

Last night I made sure that I had a little something to tide me over. (wink)

Rip roaring, down home, screaming like a banshee sex. Twice.

Who's dumb now?

Happy Thanksgiving Ya'll!

See you next Monday~

One Biscuit Hound, Jr.

One of my favorite reads, One Biscuit Hound gives a definition of how the term came to be:

"One of the games Dad and his siblings used to entertain themselves with involved throwing stale biscuits to the stray hounds loitering around, and then throwing a rock to see if the dog would eat it. The really smart dogs had to be given several pieces of biscuit before they would fall for the rock trick. The dumb ones would try to eat the rock after only one biscuit. And thus was born the term "one biscuit hound."

I never knew what *I* was until I read Biscuit's definition (FYI: I'm not blonde. So don't go there.)

To prove it and amaze you with my lack of deductive skills, I offer you the following:

As you know, last weekend I was on a trek to Jamestown, TN when I saw the sign and it all flooded back to me. I can be downright stupid. My current girl calls me "book smart." Whatever.

Back during my time with the ex, we were on the same trip up to JAMESTOWN. We saw the sign below and I wondered aloud where Estown might be.



She pointed out to me that the J was missing and so was the M. I think a "duh" would be appropriate here.

Go over to Biscuit's place and find one of my favorite posts her titled "On Being Me." It STILL cracks me up to think about it.

Do anything dumb lately? Please. Make me feel better.

The Booze Test

98%ALCOHOLIC

From Leighann this morning, I found this little test. I was confident, but not overly so.

I'm just really good at tests...yeah, that's it!

Someone Save Me

I have a problem. I need help. Around 2pm every damn day for the past few weeks, I find myself pulling into Starbucks.

What makes me think that I have the funds to spend $5-$10 (if I'm feeling generous and buy someone else in the office one, too) on coffee every day?

I'm not even close to looking like one of those ridiculously trendy girls that think they're cute holding a Starbucks' cup and starving themselves.

So WHAT is it? Is there any way to stop this madness? Why can't I stop? Just say no?

Currently, I'm on a Non-Fat, Sugar-Free Cinnamon Dolce Latte with no whip and no sprinkles (Ok, SOMETIMES I get crrraazzzyyy and have the sprinkles.) How fucking pretentious is THAT? I'll tell you...the guy on the speaker yesterday said, "Are you sure you don't want to go all the way and get that a decaf?"

Smartass Barista.

Here's a little something for the boys (and me). Happy Friday, ya'll!



(FYI: The barista at my Starbucks does not look like THAT!)

Seriously

A friend of mine recently mentioned on her blog that lesbian Suze Orman always has this huge smile on her face. Her boyfriend commented that maybe all that girl on girl action is why she always seems so happy.

Frankly, it kind of irked me. (Yes, I AM perimenopausal and my hormones rage on occasion and this was one of those times. Now back to my scheduled rant~) As if lesbians are some sort of privileged folks lying around eating peeled grapes, while being fanned with palm fronds until their next hot, sexual escapade.

It reminded me of a recent trip to the gay church that I frequent. We saw a snippet from a film titled Gods and Gays. One woman tells the story of when her daughter came out to her. She told her daughter that she would rather she be dead than gay. Sadly, her daughter did just that...she killed herself. Hearing this took my breath away. It amazes me that people will throw away their children/family/parents over this.

She killed herself. A very permanent solution to a temporary problem some folks say. But when you're in it, it is hellish.

No longer was this situation sad for the daughter and mother, but for the entire collection of folks who loved her. Her mother has gone on to become a gay advocate. Wonderful, but too late for her own daughter.

I'm lucky. My parents know that I'm gay and have always welcomed whomever I brought home.

My partner's father has been told, her mother hasn't. This WILL make for an interesting Thanksgiving. But both of our families are very accepting of our "friends." And that's how they consider us. Friends.

Think of all the times you have gone to your mother or father with questions about relationships, heartbreak, sex, etc and gotten advice. I have never gotten to do that. Not once. It makes my mother sick to think about it.

I don't get to hold my girl's hand in public or kiss her on the cheek at Christmas at the family's when she gives me JUST EXACTLY what I want. I can't marry her. She can't make decisions for my health unless we do an assload of paperwork. We risk hate crimes if we go to a bar in the South (or really anywhere) just so we can be ourselves.

We're happy anyway, but it makes me sad.

If you get the chance to watch the movie, please do so. It's very entertaining and will enlighten you even if you're already enlightened.

Greasing up

After two nights of "reaquainting ourselves" with each other, things took a different turn last night in the bedroom.

As my girl walks in the room last night, I am hit with a wave of menthol. She has greased up differently than the last two nights. This time it's with Icy Hot for the aches and pains of getting into our 40s.

I watch the nekkid parade past me to her side of the bed.

That's HOT (and cold)!

Mole on the Taco

My girl and I have a new favorite Mexican restaurant: Rosarios on Villa Place in Nashville. They have this fantastic Chocolate Mole sauce. Every time we even consider going out to eat...she wants to go there.

Today on her way back from Georgia we were talking on the phone and considering going there this weekend with friends. Of course, she brings up the chocolate mole.

Me: "That chocolate mole is all you ever think about anymore. I'm going to call in a to-go order and smother my hoo-haa in it."

Her: "We have avocados in the fridge. You could make guacamole to go with it."

Me: "I'm going to go wrap the bed in cling wrap. I'll be laid out with a naval full of guacamole surrounded by chips with a chocolate mole sauce on the taco for you!"

I think I heard her engine rev.



P.S. Check out the comments on the post below. G-man is a dirty, dirty man...and I love it!

Cummin' Home (at the request of Matt)

I spent the past weekend with my mother's redneck family at our big ol' lodge in Jamestown, TN. Most of them came up from Pulaski...with the exception of my City Mouse Cousin that lives in Atlanta.

It was interesting. My head still hurts from all of the redneck saturation.

But this story is about cummin' home, isn't it? (smile)

We spent TWO lonely nights apart.

She nary (see, I was with them for too long) got a phone call from me. I was too busy learning to make biscuits from scratch without a recipe (I'll make someone a good wife someday), making hot sausage gravy, pissing off my cousin Shirley, catering to and cleaning up after a buncha' lazy redneck men (again with the good wife shit) and driving a crowd up to Muddy Pond.

By last night we were ready to see each other. She began teasing me mercilessly on the couch after she cooked for me. I thought that I was too tired to feather the Lesbian Love Nest. I was wrong. (wink)

She threw me down on the big, fluffy red comforter and I slid sideways on the bed. As she lowered herself down, the cuts in her arms flexed. She pressed my breasts together and nuzzled her face between my monstrous breasts. Kissed back and forth between the nipples until I sighed, arched my back and closed my eyes...

Oh well, you folks are so creative....you come up with the rest.

What happened next?

Let's see what you've got! Give it to me.

Method Behind My Madness

Last week, my girl told me about some Ecco boots that she LOVED. Desperately wanted. ADORED THEM. But, they are expensive. Ridiculously expensive in my opinion. At least for a butch who will wear them to work.

Yesterday, she showed me the picture on the website. They're $180. For a pair of boots. Butch boots at that. Not some burgundy patent leather number that would make me 3 inches taller (i.e. thinner looking) and would look darling with any number of outfits that I have.

So I ordered them for her. Not for Christmas. There's no waiting here folks. Just 'cuz I love her.

When I expose her to the Coach store and the handbag that I'll eventually want or those damn fine burgundy patent leather Franco Sarto platform boots that I'm head over heels for....

What can she say, but yes?

P.S. AND... since she rocked my world in the Lesbian Love Nest last night...she can have anything she wants! Boy was I glad to cum home!!!!



GEEK ALERT: Thanks to my geeky friends who told me to download Camino so that I can insert links like everybody else!!! You guys rock!

It's Not A Cock...But It Is Made of Glass

Butterfly Girl likes my cock....AND wants to play games. So, who am I to say no???

There's a little blogger game that Butterfly is playing on her blog.

Here are her rules:

"The first 5 commenters here will get a small gift in the mail from me. All you have to do is post this on your own blog and promise to gift the first 5 commenters on your post if they promise to gift the first 5 commenters on their posts… you see how it goes. What do they call that? The domino effect. After you comment jot your address in an email and click it off to me. As soon as you participate in the game I will get your little something in the mail."

Now, it won't be a cock. Mine's too big to send. (wink) But I'm also a dichroic glass jewelry artist. You WILL be receiving something of that ilk. They're pretty, sparkly and make wonderful gifts. (Hello men out there!)

Let the games begin!!!

Feel free to comment even if you don't wanna play.

P.S. You won't be getting the pendant pictured....but something quite similar.

Wanna See My Cock?

Yesterday afternoon when I got home from work my girl had the house clean so that I could do a little painting. It's just something I do for fun...I have no delusions of grandeur.

This one took me all evening to finish. I hate to not finish. It feels so...well, unfinished.

When she got home late last night from work, I asked her, "Wanna see my cock?"

I'm so TAUNT

I work out with a truly odd mix of folks at a gym in the musty, dirty basement of a smallish house in Podunk, TN. One of the men is a high-falutin' lawyer that takes off his REAL Rolex and diamond jewelry when he walks in. He's quite the Big Fish in the Little Pond around these parts.

So the other night, Mr. I'm So Educated and Lofty says, "You're really getting taunt."

Me: Quizzical look.

Him: "You know...TAUNT (as if I'm the idiot)....you're body's tightening up."

Me: "Oh yeah?...Thanks."

Oh how I wanted to say something quick, smart-assed and clever! But quick and clever just wasn't happening. Plus, he really WAS trying to be complimentary.

I'm still at a loss for what I SHOULD have said.

Any ideas?

Crazy-Fucked-Up-In-The-Head

If I didn't tell you, you'd never know. But I'm going to, because I have been telling you every week.

Last night I went to Weight Watchers. I'm up .6 of a pound. I finally had to change from my shorts and t-shirt to my sweats and long sleeved shirt. It's an event for the entire crowd...which week do you do it? Suck it up and know that those clothes are going to weigh more.

It fucks with my head. I KNOW I haven't gained any weight. And yet, their scale says that I did. But I didn't. But I did...officially. Thank you, yes, I am crazy-fucked-up-in-the-head about the whole weight issue.

On the positive front, my girl told me this morning that my ass is looking smaller. YAY! And she was even behind me when she said it. Of course, I'm a tad hornyish, so her saying that prompted me to back into her and give her a little standing lap dance. Gotta reward the good behaviors!

On top of that, an old buddy just walked into the office and told me that I'm looking "slick" this morning. (I'm taking that as a compliment.)

Hmmm...perhaps I am? Could 8 pounds make that much of a difference in a big girl like me? Doubt it...but these little positives sure do help balance the downer of the Weight Watchers scale.

My Ex The Redneck

My last ex was from a redneck family. MORE redneck than mine, even. And we're pretty red.

Well, everyone except for her and her nuclear family. They seemed normalish. But the rest of 'em...daggum they were country.

One year at Thanksgiving, the ex's parents had the family over. Her mom's sister had just recently had a boob job.

(By now you know that I have a tendency to instigate when it amuses me. And it did....)

We'd been sitting at the Antique Farmhouse table that her mother had imported from England for about 2 minutes when I picked up my linen napkin and asked, "So Terry...how'd the boob job go?"

Her fork hit her plate and I knew it was coming.

In a move that I've only seen on Girls Gone Wild, she flipped up her bra with her shirt and flopped those puppies out.

~SPROING~

"Very nice, Terri, very nice."

What is the proper etiquette for seeing tits at the dinner table?

She then shimmied back into her top and we all gave thanks. Especially me. I was sitting directly across from her. (wink)

Fauxlex

This morning I tried on the fake Rolex that my mom got me for Christmas last year. It fit...finally! So, I decided to wear it today. I'm looking particularly cute for a big girl.

I'm in the kitchen this morning trying to get the damn thing set to the correct time and in walks my girl. I wonder to her if it needs a new battery since it's not working.

She says, "It doesn't have a battery. It works because of the movement of your body."

She's so smart...I LOVE that about her!

As I'm wondering if my body will move ENOUGH to support the mechanisms and thinking how smart she is, she says "My ex-Stephanie had a REAL Rolex. So I know how they work."

Not so smart.

I raise my eyebrows and mock her accordingly (in that high-pitched mocky voice that indicates that she just fucked up), "My EX-STEPHANIE had a REAL Rolex."

Smiling, I say, "Perhaps you should buy me a REAL one!"

Silence.

This just 24 hours after she asked me what I wanted for Christmas this year. Of course, I"ll want the solid gold one. I bet STEPHANIE had that one!

Pumpkin Porn

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Red on the Head

Cruel, Mother Nature is. During the whole Chiffon Margarine debacle, Mother Nature tried to tell me not to mess with her.

At first, I thought it was kinda flat looking because my thryoid is bad and that can affect the health of your hair. Then I got that semi-under control. And still, the hair looks eh.

Recently, my girlfriend told me that my hair is brown.

BROWN??? WTF???

Do not tell me that I suffered.....

• Red on the head, I'd rather be dead

• Red in the Head means Fire in the Bed!!! (not so cool when you're 11)

• The whole redheads have bad temper shit...it's just a buncha fuckin' horseshit!

• Never tanning, always burning (which is STILL a problem)

.....during my childhood to then grow up, be in my prime and suddenly I lose all the red color in my hair.

Yes, I've permed it since I was a teenager. I'm sorry Ma Nature, I didn't know I was doing wrong!

I didn't color it until just a couple of years ago. Never had to.

At a recent gathering of friends, I asked them, "What color is my hair?"

Brown. Strawberry Blonde. Blonde.

HUH?

So Mother Nature, I'm pissed.

Just when it's SEXY to be a redhead, you turn my hair brown. Where's the nearest salon? I a dose of fire!

Not ONLY do I rock...

but I FUCKIN' ROCK!!!!

Get ready for the Tuesday Total on my Weight Watchers week.....

Are ya ready?

ANOTHER 4.2 pounds for a total of 8.6 in two weeks. Yes, it is benefitting me that I'm a big girl and I work out.

(waits for applause and pats on the back)

Thank you very much!

I am proud of myself. I am finally making an effort to take care of me, not just those around me. I prep my breakfast and sit down almost every morning AT THE TABLE and focus on the meal. I'm making an effort to change things up and not eat the same old crap all the tiime. And this week, I'm going to add cardio into the mix.

I hope all of you guys are having a great week!!! I sure am!

The Key

From my last post:
We bought locally made Molasses, Wildflower honey, Lemon Cake, Gingerbread, Turbinado Sugar and Molasses candy. I ate some of all of it and still lost weight. Gotta love Weight Watchers!

And a Princess responded:
"That sounds so nice and the pictures are beautiful....eat some for me..I don't think I could eat all that and lose weight!!"

For me, the key to Weight Watchers is that I can eat whatever I want and still lose weight.

WHATEVER I want. If I want Lemon Cake..I can have Lemon Cake. Homemade Gingerbread? Yes, please.

Unfortunately, I cannot have ALL I want.

I think that's the problem with a lot of folks. We get a loaf of Lemon Cake and eat the whole damn thing. Linda had a slice. I had a slice. I counted my points. And the rest of it is in the freezer for the next time we want some.

I have honey every day for breakfast. It's only 1 point per tablespoon. That's a LOT of honey. I smear it on my 1 point English Muffin. That way I can have what I like. I just can't have a tub of it.

So yes, I did eat ALL of that. But I didn't eat ALL of IT!


P.S. Yes, Kelly...it's a gorgeous place to go. And we'll rent it out for any days you want. But you have to enjoy hiking, biking, four-wheeling, and outdoor stuff, because Jamestown is not a shopper's paradise (unless you like used shoes.)

Jamestown and Muddy Pond, TN

Last Saturday morning, we ventured out to the Minnonite Village of Muddy Pond, TN to do a little shopping and to have one of the fabulous sandwiches that those ladies make. Alas, when we got to the General Store there was a sign stating that they no longer made sandwiches. (hangs head sadly) They made the most wonderful creations. Even if it was only meat, cheese, bread, mayo, lettuce and tomato. It was as if their hands were touched by God's own.

So, being a former Girl Scout (and since they lady behind the counter suggested it)...I bought everything and made us one on the back of the car. Spread my little plastic baggie out and we had a car picnic!

Then we went to watch the molassses (or mole asses as my family calls them) being made. They have a huge room where they boil them down after the horses grind the sugar cane into juice.



These are the gorgeous boys doing their job at the Molasses Shop.
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One of the old Mennonite men taking a break outside the steamy molassses boiling room.
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Lovely red tree outside of the lodge.
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Pond down in the hollow by Muddy Pond. Not THE Muddy Pond...just a muddy pond. THE Muddy Pond has a little sign. I guess enough of the dumb city folk asked that they finally put up a sign. Looks more like a mud puddle, but hey...call it a pond if you wanna.
__________________

We bought locally made Molasses, Wildflower honey, Lemon Cake, Gingerbread, Turbinado Sugar and Molasses candy. I ate some of all of it and still lost weight. Gotta love Weight Watchers!

Unavailable

Or so I thought. Last weekend, my Love and I, along with our two dogs went to Jamestown, TN to our family's little cabin in the woods- Pointe View Lodge (www.pointeview.com) -for a little R&R. I told my mom and my best butch where we were going. Now this place is remote. Like 10 minutes off of the paved road remote and 30 minutes outside of a small town. Only one other house on the road and entirely too far to run to in case of horror movie type stuff happening.

We get up there. Jammie up. Watch movies. Eat dinner. Go to bed. Perfect.

My cell phone rings. It was LATE LATE LATE...1:45am. I was so deeply asleep that my Love had to wake me. I fumble in the complete blackness for my phone. Restricted number and I'm too late. Hmmm...probably a wrong number. We lie there for a few minutes trying to go back to dreaming.

The lodge phone rings. Now this number is hard to get. You pretty much have to be a member of the family or a past renter to have it. Hell, I don't even have it. Again, in the blackness I run to the phone all the way in the kitchen.

Hello. Hello? Hello???

Nobody there. Then an odd fast busy signal.

We go through all the possibilities. Nobody has both of these numbers. Must be my parents. Shit, they're old and it can't be good. I call their house. Wake my Daddy up. Nope, everything's fine.

Must be the Best Butch. Call her. Freak HER out since I'm never up past 10pm! Not her either.

No one else knew we were there and so few people have both my cell and the lodge phone number. It's hard for me to believe that there were two wrong numbers on both phones that I'm attached to.

That was Friday night. It's Thursday and no one has called yet to say, "Hey...tried to get ahold of you Saturday morning at 1:45am."

Damn ghosts.

"Gwen Will Have THAT Taken Care Of"

Last night, as we're dining on Pan Seared Tilapia over Rice and White Acorn Squash with Butter and Brown Sugar, the phone rang. It's her mother.

I invited them to come down from Michigan for Thanksgiving.

My Love said they wouldn't come. They are.

My Love said that they would probably stay a couple of days. They're staying from Tuesday until Monday.

During their conversation, I keep hearing over and over, "Gwen will have THAT taken care of."

I am afraid to ask.

Brought to you by the Number 4

Last night was my second Weight Watcher's meeting and my first week's weigh in.

Drum roll please.............

Down 4.4 pounds. YAY ME!!!

Please feel free to praise my will power and strength of character!

I'm waiting.....

:)

Killing Me Softly with Coffee

I'm sitting at the window waiting on our Treat Treats....a SF, NF Cinnamon Dolce (3 WW points, thank you very much) for me and Caramel Macchiato for my Mother. We passed up on the Homemade Pineapple Cake that someone brought to the office. Major victory. I wanted to surprise her (and me!) with a Treat Treat (that's what Trace calls her milk bones.)

Starbucks Girl: "I'm sorry, Did you say three or thirty?"

Lady in Line: "Thirty"

Me, in my head: WHAT???? Thirty? Seriously????

Starbucks Guy reading my mind: "Yeah, she likes almost a cup of sugar in her coffee."

I watch Starbucks Guy pour and pour and pour and pour sugar in to a cup.

Me, outloud to Starbucks Guy as he hands me my SF NF Treat Treat: "Can I stay and see the 30 sugars person?"

Starbucks Guy: "She comes here regularly and we have an 'Always say YES' policy."

Well, I reckon they do.

Drink This In Remembrance of Me

Recently, the little girl in my life was baptised. She's almost 7.

I saw her this week and she tells me that she's going to get to drink the grape juice and eat the cracker at church. But not everybody gets to drink it. You can't until you get baptised. Then you can. But her brother can't. Yet. He gets baptised on Sunday. Then he can eat the cracker, too. And have some grape juice with it. You have to go up front to do it. Then you get to go back to your seat. But not everybody gets too. It's special.

Her: It's supposed to help your blood or something.

Me: Oh really? (quizzical look)

Her: Um hmmm.

I'm glad to know she's got a handle on the whole communion thing. Because frankly, it confuses me.

There is a God

"The strongest muscle in the body is the TONGUE."

Thank you, Lord. He obviously knew what he was doing with THAT one! (wink)

A Dying Breed

Am I the only 42 year old woman on the planet that still calls her father "Daddy?"

Recently, some friends of mine were appalled. I was confused. Is there a point when you change what you call him?

FYI: there are over 200,000 images for Daddy on photobucket.com. So SOMEBODY's calling their father's Daddy!

Come on...tell me I'm NOT the only one. And of course, I'm in the South!

Back In The Herd

Last night I went to my first Weight Watchers meeting. All of us fat girls and a couple of guys sat around and talked about well, food mostly.

Kudos to my girl for curling up on the couch with me and looking at my Weight Watcher book when she could have been watching her favorite shows on the DVR. She paused the TV and we talked a little Weight Watcher. God, I am so lucky to have her by my side!

I am already feeling better. I have a plan. I can see myself at my goal. This should really be easy. Mwahaha-ha-ha. Yeah. Well, it's easy right now, and I'll take that.

Anybody got any supportive words? Say 'em now, say 'em later. I need all I can get!

P.S. It's Tuesday again, which means squats with the powerlifting coach. Prepare for the complaining to commence in approximately 48 hours.

No More Putting It Off

I'm joining Weight Watchers this afternoon. I have a dear friend who is super supportive and emails regularly from across the nation. A partner that ROCKS and loves me as I am or any other way. And a powerlifting trainer that's going to be there kicking my ass. He's big and he's expecting lots out of me. 'Bout time I gave it to him.

I finally feel like I'm ready.

More reasons to lose weight:

• To show the fatties in my life that I'm not kidding this time. I'm doing it. You can be fat. I don't want to anymore.

• To have some of that wild on top porn star sex!!!!

• I want to not worry about eating. I want to reach a level of comfort and WW will help with that. (ahem, not my first time around the old WW block)

• So I can snow ski with my girl in Banff, Canada when she whisks me away there. (Major hint dropage there! Sweetie, let me know if you need the phone number of the Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel. Oh hell, here: http://www.fairmont.com/banffsprings/)

• So my muscles that I've worked so hard on for the past year can show. I can lift some big girl plates at the gym...that's a 45 lb. plate on each side plus a couple of small ones!

• So that I can be proud of my character.

• To lessen the stress on my joints and the rest of the body

• So that I can buy some cute clothes

• So that I can wear my hair long and look sexy before I'm that strange woman on the park bench that's 80 years young with long, grey hair.

There. That about does it.

I'm ready and rockin' on go!

Day of the Dead

Or so I thought. I tried the talking to the ghost.

Problem: Where do you look?

I guess if they're around they'll just float into the right spot. It's the least they can do.

So here I am...talking to the ghost or lack thereof. Who knows. Could be either.

Fortunately, I have a dog and if someone happened to be looking in the window at least it wouldn't look like I was talking to well, nothing. Then, SHE walks to the other side of the room. She knew I wasn't talking to her. The complete lack of words like treat treat, ride, hungry and outside made that perfectly clear.

After a few minutes she stopped looking at me at all. She was giving me that odd sideways glance that you give the weird guy on the bus that smiles at you. (You wanna look. You know you do. But you're afraid that he'll start up a conversation with you the next time you make eye contact. Next thing you know you're dating the weird guy from the bus. Yes folks, I did (circa 1982) and it ended ugly with him crying at a Western Sizzler.)

You'd think since I was devoting my attention to it, it would materialize or something. Fling a book across the room. Blow a blustery gust of wind through the drapes. Slam the kitchen table against the floor a few times. Something.

Nada. Maybe I'm tryin' too hard.

Not A Mommie

I just spent the afternoon with a friend's little girl. Now I have a headache. She's so wonderful and so taxing and so everything all at the same time and she never stops talking!!!! Seriously, never.

The most precious thing she did was color me a picture. She hung it on the wall behind my desk at work. Then said, "You can just turn around anytime, look at this picture and know that I love you." See, right there. I would be one of those parents constantly in tears over sweet things like that. Buying her convertibles and high heels just because she asked for them.

She also asked me if I was a girly girl. Um, yeah....

What exactly do you mean?

Do you ALWAYS wear makeup?
Do you always dress up?
What do you wear when you're "playing?" (Hehehe...that depends on what Miss Linda wants to "play!")
Does Miss Linda live with you now?
Is she your friend like Miss Nikki was?
Why doesn't Miss Linda wear makeup?

(Miss Lynn starts wondering where she's going with all these questions....)

She goes on to tell me that sometimes she likes to be a tomboy. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I do not want to be in this conversation. I'm the only lesbian that this family knows and allow to be around their child! I can see her coming out to me at seven years old!

The problem is that although she's only seven...she's WAY smarter than me.

Change the subject. Fast. Find something girly to talk about. Anything.

Me: Do you like playing with Barbies?
Her: No, not anymore. I outgrew that. I don't like dolls anymore. Dolls are boring.

Me: Do you still like Disney princesses?
Her: Nah, I'd rather play out in the dirt with my brother.

Me: I think it's time to play Quiet As A Mouse. Gah, I'm lame!

Offering this 7 year old high heels may be our only hope if she starts wearing ball caps and bandanas.

How Does Fat FEEL?

I've been thinking about this lately because next year around this time, I'd like to not be. Change that...I will not be. I refuse to continue to be this way. Therefore, I'm making a list for posterity. So I can go back and say, "Ah yes, I remember now...."

As I spoke of in an earlier post, my friend Zammi is going in for a weight loss surgery. I need her. I need to be around people that are doing it. People who are doing the right things. Exercising. Eating right. Visibly losing weight. I feed off of their energy. Their drive. Their commitment. I fully intend to feed off of her. I'm hungry for being on a roll. I want the momentum. The way people will ask me how much I've lost. Tell me how pretty I am since I've moved down a size. I'm desperate for the attention after being invisible for so long.

Zammi's having surgery on the 7th of November. I think I'm finally ready. And yes, I realize that SHE should be the one getting ready and she is. But since I'm tagging along, I too need to be ready.

Ready to exercise. Check. Ready to eat less. Check. I'm slowly wheeling my carriage back upon the straight and narrow path of health.

Oh yeah, I was making a list, wasn't I?

How DOES fat feel?

• Tight
• Tired
• Full
• Yearning
• Sleepy
• Big
• Crowded
• Warm...sometimes hot
• Cuddly
• Wanting
• Soft

Nothing I'm gonna miss there.

Hot Legs

I am working on some beautiful legs. They will be lovely when I'm done with them in about a year. I work them out at the gym twice a week. Tuesday for squats and Saturdays for a general pumping workout.

Last Tuesday night, we squatted with the 55 pound bar. We did six sets of five reps with a moderate stance. I even asked for an extra set. Wasn't tired and apparently I was a bit cocky.

Today, I can barely move. Every time I have to get up, I'm planning it. What can I do this trip? Get a drink, pee, grab the faxes, check the back door, etc. Because GOD FORBID that I have to activate the quads one more time than absolutely necessary.

Either the girlfriend isn't sore or she's not as whiney as I am. Probably the latter, huh? I just sent her some dirty texts for her lunch hour. I may get to work some of that soreness out tonight! (wink wink)

Poorly Haunted

I'm wondering if my hauntings are even worthy to blog about. I think I have haunting envy. I want to be haunted like I read about in grammar school where things would go flying across the room, heads would spin, folks would speak in tongues.

I think I need a better ghost. This is probably my cousin Sheila. She was my best-cousin on my mom's side. We played together as kids and got in all sorts of mild trouble at my aunt's farm during the summer. Like the time that we SOOOO wanted to go swimming in the creek that ran beside my aunt's dairy farm. Any country folk see where this is going?

She forbade us to set foot in that creek. The summers were sweltering. There was NOTHING to do in Campbellsville, TN in the 70s besides walk the 1/4 mile to the store for an ice cream sandwich and look for pretty rocks in the driveway....both of which we had already done.

One day my aunt Ruth had to go to "town" aka Pulaski, TN. We had the time. We had the inclination.

We did it.

We waded.

All the way up to our thighs so that we wouldn't get our shorts wet and could get away with it. Except our shorts did get wet. Don't they always?

It was so peaceful wading in the pond watching the cows do the same upstream.

Filthy, I think, is the word she used when she returned. WTF?

Goal 1: Reward 1

This week my goal is to hit the dreadmill three times for at least 20 minutes. I know I can do that, so of course I've already planned my first reward.

Rub me all night long! Or at least for the hour I'm paying for. K?

I will have earned it by Saturday and since rewards are best utilized when administered quickly, I'm getting rubbed right away!

Update: Two sessions on the treadmill down, one to go. Both were for 30 minutes and I HATED. EVERY. MINUTE. OF. IT. It's gotta get easier!

Oddities Day 3

Last night upon returning from the gym, Linda and I walk in to find the TV on. The same TV that I had turned off when I left.

Anybody know a good exorcist?

Either the ghostie skipped Monday's fun or I missed it. Probably the latter.