"The mark of an immature man is that he would die knobly for a cause. The mark of a mature man is that he would live humbly for one" - Catcher in the Rye -WARNING WRITER SPELLING CHALLENGED! But Sometimes you have to say "what the fuck!"

Friday, September 24, 2004

Hans and Frans…. Pump Me the Fuck UP!

Reformation of the Tom Waits Drunk
Part of the battle with depression definitely lies in exercise and a healthy lifestyle. As much as I enjoy being the tragic Tom Waits drunk, creatively composing while chain smoking, I knew I needed change in order to heal. So, I quit drinking home alone, and I started exercising again.

Flying Tampons and Dodge Ball
Exercise and I have a checkered past and strange relationship. I loathed PE class growing up, see I was anorexic-like skinny teen, narrow as an ironing board, and hence never really saw the point of fitness. This was also the day of dodge ball and open gym torment, so I further hated every minute. Being forced to strip nekkid in the girl’s locker room while the Butch PE teacher watched further scarred me emotionally. There is nothing worse to do to a puberty-ridden teenager. Images of the tampon scene in the movie Carrie still haunt me. Locker rooms and gyms have never become completely comfortable places.

A Walk in the Park
For the last six months or so I have had a walking partner. We were doing great last spring, walking 2 miles daily. The problem is, we both suffer from depression. This can be a good thing, as we support and motivate each other, but on the flip side, we can easily blow it off when depressed. Recently, we decided to stop making excuses and start walking again. Our venue of choice is this beautiful park on the water. The park has a view of mountains on one side, and Mt Rainer on the other. It’s breathtaking. You can often spot eagles flying by hunting for prey. Yesterday was particularly gorgeous; all the fall colors illuminating the foliage. I think I saw every color of the rainbow. However, living in the Pacific Northwest, the weather is not always conducive for walking. Soon it will get dark early, and the weather will turn nasty. This means we must find another place to exercise….the gym.

Its fun to stay at the YMCA!
I belonged to our local YMCA for a stint. The gym weirds me out for various reasons. First of all, I feel out of place due to my clothing. I don’t have the money to buy special work out clothes, so I wear what I have. This includes an assortment of old rock concert, marijuana festival and Star Wars t-shirts, baggy sweat pants and an old skewl pair of Vans. My attire causes me to stand out from the other fashion statements; girls with tight spandex outfits, brand spankin new shoes, and matching headbands. The workout uniforms donned by most annoy the hell out of me. Especially considering I cant afford to dress that way, and even if I could, would probably chose to look weird anyway.

Motley Crew of Characters
The cast of characters you run into at the gym also amuse and sometimes annoy me. First you have the Barbie doll chicks, dressed to the nines, giggling and showing off their figures in tight and revealing clothes. You never want to work out on a machine next to them; one because you pale in comparison, and two, they typically wear too much perfume. Then there are the obese women, who also for some reason wear tight and revealing clothes. They are typically dripping with sweat, and either ride the bicycle for hours or do pelvic thrust type floor exercises. Like a train wreck you don’t want to see, its hard not to notice their sexual sounding grunts and obvious torturous state. You don’t want to exercise near them either, for fear of flying sweat. Then there are the guys…. Like the sweaty, hairy and balding work out freak. He is ALWAYS at the gym. Usually he wears tight spandex shorts, a back brace, and a wife beater. This guy hangs out in the weights section and grunts and moans like a dying horse. When he does move to the machines, he leaves them dripping in sweat, and doesn’t bother to whipe them off. YUCK! Then, at least in my small town, there is always a guy from high school, who looks great and fit, and keeps telling you “keep it up, it will pay off”. Gee, is this some sort of a hint?

Put Some Clothes on PLEASE?!?!?!?
Still not over my junior high neurosis of locker rooms, I always try to avoid them. Why is it that some women love to get all natural and naked there? It’s never the attractive ones either. No matter what, there is always a really hairy and heavyset woman in the open shower. She stands in there for hours, as if enjoying putting on a show. One time, I was using the bathroom in the locker rooms and I ran into a former employer. She is an older woman, and respectable member of the community. I stopped to say hi, and she immediately engaged me in a long and drawn out conversation. To my dismay, she was also changing into her swimsuit. I tried to end the conversation and quickly leave, but she kept me hostage and continued talking until she was stripped naked and into her suit. I was mortified. There are just some people you don’t want to see nude. Now, every time I see her, I get this horrible mental image. I still haven’t fully recovered.

Back in Black Baby!
Despite my reservations, I’m going back to the gym. I know once I get the hang of it I will feel comfortable. It’s just getting back in the habit. Working out in public is hard, and something I would rather do at home. The problem is, when I’m home its hard to get off my ass and exercise. Ah well, wish me luck.

One sweet reward is that I now fit into pants I haven’t been able to wear for a year. YIPEEE!


Happy Friday All!

Monday, September 20, 2004

Dead Ringers and Lumpy Rutherford

I am not afraid...well okay, I am afraid
I have always had a weird fear of dying,of cancer, and a subsequent phobia of doctors. I do not like stripping buck nekkid under some paper towel mini-sheet, and lying on a cold sterile bed to then be prodded and examined. This fear has haunted me since childhood, and I recall times I would refuse to disrobe for certain doctors. This could possibly result from unresolved molestation issues, who the hell knows with a neurotic mess like me? It’s just been a major phobia for as long as I can remember.

Dead Ringers Really FREAKED me out!
When I was barely 18, and became sexually active with my “first love”, we decided that I should go to the health department and get on birth control pills. This was right after I watched the movie Dead Ringers, where these two gynecologist twins use all sorts of medieval torture devises to abuse “patients”. I was so scared going in for that visit, the groovy feminist looking doctor made things a little less unbearable. Stripping down to nothing, putting my feet spread eagle in these cold metal stirrups, I felt so violated I cried for hours afterwards. This is something I have never gotten used to or may ever be comfortable with.

Women Know Women
For some reason, going to a female doctor is easier for me. I guess because they are women, and they know and understand how horrible that procedure feels. With crappy insurance that I have had, or none over the years, sometimes I have had no choice but to see a male doctor. This really freaks me out; first of all, I don’t understand why men want to become gynecologists. The psychology to it just weirds me out.

Thanks Doctor
With my last boyfriend we decided that I should get the IUD. This meant I had to go to a specialist who performed “the insertion”. The only one available was a male, some middle-eastern man with a funny accent. Though it was against policy, I made a stink so my boyfriend could be with me during the procedure. Again there I was nekkid from the waist down, legs spread eagle in stirrups for the world to see. Ahh the humiliation! At least my boyfriend had seen it before. The doctor was sweet and a bit of a character, and I guess he decided he was gonna liberate me there and then from my frigidity. After he sticks the metal rape-like instrument inside me, he grabs a mirror and asks in his thick accent “have you ever seen your uterus?”. I could have died. Speechless, he didn’t wait for a reply and holds up the mirror giving my boyfriend and I a medical beaver shot. “Gee thanks”, I thought.

Oh Its Just a Lump
Ahh the joys of womanhood. But the biggest thrill was yet to come. A couple of years ago while getting a breast exam, my female doctor says “oh… I found a lump…. Here feel.” Sure enough, there was a lump in my left breast. This then required a mammogram and ultrasound to determine whether or not the lump was cancerous. The fear of dying really overcame me then, I saw my life pass before my eyes, and realized how much I wanted to see my son’s graduation, marriage, my grandchildren.

YOWIE!!!!!
Getting a mammogram is another form of sadomasochist torture. Instead of stripping nekkid from the waist down, you strip from the waist up. Then a nurse feels you up and adjusts your breast into these cold metal slabs. I remember her saying “now this is gonna hurt” but hells bells, I had NO IDEA. She then leaves the room and turns on this torture machine that squeezes your boob so hard, it almost becomes a pancake. The machine then holds your boob, in this tight vice while it takes photos. This is the most excruciating pain; it took all my energy not to cry.

Call Me Lumpy Rutherford
The lump turned out to be nothing, and eventually went away. Maybe I’m just lumpy? Well, the other day, while giving myself a breast exam (an important thing for all women to do) I found another lump. This also happens to be in the same place where I was bitten really hard by my soldier friend, so it could just be swelling… but? This means going to my doctor and getting a referral for another mammogram. Yikes! Just what I need now. Lumps are fairly common in women, and usually nothing. But, it’s always scary, especially when you already have a major phobia of doctors.

Now Cough Boys
I know guys have to get nekkid and have a doctor hold their balls while they cough. I’m sure that is humiliating, but it just doesn’t seem like men go through the same kind of torture women do. Mammograms and pap smears just seem much more invasive and torturous.

Here is information for how to do a home breast exam.

Here is a link to support the fight against breast cancer.

Sunday, September 19, 2004

When I think about love I think about pure sex, deep sex, hard sex, rough sex

When I think about love
I don't think about a bright moon
Twinkling stars
Red wine
Silent whispers
Holding hands
Secret love letters
Candle lights
Red roses
Wedding bells
Moonlight serenades
Warm summer nights

I think about pure sex, deep sex, hard sex, rough sex
Go!


Rough SexLords of Acid

Mmmmm Spank me like a bad grrrl
Spankings, hair pulling, biting, choking, deep hard, rough sex. What is the attraction? Why does it feel so good to be submissive and out of control, and allow yourself to be bruised, reddened and hurt?

I admit, as much of a tough ass bitch that I am, I love to be roughed with. Is this a sickness or a fetish?

He sexed me up like a soldier going off to war
While sending my Stryker Brigade soldier friend off to Iraq, I became bitten up from head to toe. Bruised up, I look like I had been beat up, but I must admit, it was the best sex of my life. I will definitely be keeping in touch with him while he is away fighting for our freedom.

the Comfort Zone
I ask myself, why does this sort of abuse feel so good? Definitely there is a sort of comfort zone one must be in to engage in this sort of play. Obviously, if you bite someone and they scream “ouch” and “stop”, it isn’t a good idea. A couple has to know how to read each other’s body language or sexual sounds to know what feels good, and what does not. Obviously, there is a very fine line.

Rough Sex V. S/M
What is the difference between rough sex and S/M? I guess for me personally there really is no difference. However, when most people think of S/M they think of leather whips, gimps, dominatrix style submissive, and handcuffs. Rough sex on the other hand connotes memories of the Preppie Murderer Robert Chambers, and other sickos who like to be choked.

Whether rough sex is a fetish, sickness, or S/M subcategory, it’s definitely something that requires trust and mutual consent.

Now that being said, let the smooches and spanks commence!

From Good Vibrations
In reality, the sensual rituals and games that fall under the name "S/M" are for people who love, respect and trust one another. When a couple engages in S/M, they experience the thrill, rush and arousal that come from an agreed-upon exchange of power. One lover holds down her sweetheart's hands while she administers loving spanks to his naughty, gleefully wriggling behind; two lovers can dress in leather, lingerie or uniforms and play erotic games of dominance and submission with sexual rewards; one partner can enjoy surrendering to the feeling of restraint and allow herself to be sensually whipped into erotic bliss that can only come from surrender, fantasy fulfillment and intense physical stimulation. Sex and S/M in combination can make for the most unforgettable, mind-blowing, pivotal, emotional and even spiritual sexual experiences.


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