Going to California, yes I am ... for the very first time. Only for four nights, to attend a conference - - man I wish it could be longer, and I wish I could do fun things instead of conference things. But I am so excited to be going.
I've always wanted to see California, but have never been. Until October that is. I just made all my flight and hotel reservations. Woo-hoo!
So, anyone out there live in San Diego? Know any good places to eat? Touristy stuff I just gotta do while I'm there? I'll be short on time, but hey, this might be the only time I ever get to go; if I have to skip out on some of my conference, well, shhh ... let's just don't tell anyone.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Who, me? Getouttahere.
One of the judges at the court I most often practice before has accepted a new position and will soon be leaving the bench.
Today I received a phone call from an attorney at another law firm who often represents clients in cases I'm involved in - sometimes on my side, sometimes on the other side. He asked me if I've considered running for the about-to-be-empty seat on this court. Ha, no, I said. But he was serious; and then he spent about 5 minutes trying to talk me into it, telling me reasons why he thinks I should apply for it.
Strangely, he's the second attorney to ask me that question; last week I was in deposition, and another attorney, with another firm, on the other side of another case, asked me the same thing; asked me if I had thought about running for a position on this particular court - - like it was a totally normal idea. Like I'd make a good judge.
What's weirder, that two different attorneys have asked me the same question in the past week, since we've found out this position will soon be open? Or that my automatic response to someone even suggesting that I'd make a good judge is to say "what the fuck man? Are you serious? Getouttahere." Either they have misplaced confidence in me, or I have very low confidence in myself.
I'm thinking it's both, actually.
Today I received a phone call from an attorney at another law firm who often represents clients in cases I'm involved in - sometimes on my side, sometimes on the other side. He asked me if I've considered running for the about-to-be-empty seat on this court. Ha, no, I said. But he was serious; and then he spent about 5 minutes trying to talk me into it, telling me reasons why he thinks I should apply for it.
Strangely, he's the second attorney to ask me that question; last week I was in deposition, and another attorney, with another firm, on the other side of another case, asked me the same thing; asked me if I had thought about running for a position on this particular court - - like it was a totally normal idea. Like I'd make a good judge.
What's weirder, that two different attorneys have asked me the same question in the past week, since we've found out this position will soon be open? Or that my automatic response to someone even suggesting that I'd make a good judge is to say "what the fuck man? Are you serious? Getouttahere." Either they have misplaced confidence in me, or I have very low confidence in myself.
I'm thinking it's both, actually.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Freudian Slip?
Work these days is terribly busy. I'm totally dividing my time between writing two appellate briefs that are due the second week of August and preparing for a trial slated for the last week of August.
The briefs are a pain in my ass, because I'm actually having to argue against what I believe to be the correct position. That is not fun. It's kind of like playing chess or something; very strategizing (can strategizing be used that way in a sentence? my god, my brain is going haywire, ballistic), trying to use moves that will win your client's position, but ones that will get you to that winning position without requiring you to make certain other moves, ones that would leave you open to having your ass taken since all the other players know you're vulnerable if you have to make those particular arguments.
That's probably a terrible example, btw. Yeah, I've been drinking a bit. (And by a bit I mean a lot.)
And the trial is an even bigger pain in my ass. Because my key witness admits that she totally screwed up. Oh boy! "Your honor, you must find in favor of my client. Even though one of our witnesses admits she fucked up, which really undermines all of my credibility arguing this case and leaves me with really no compelling evidence to back up my position, and I wish I could just drop this whole thing, but for complicated reasons I can't and instead have to appear here arguing and totally looking like an idiot for this week-long trial." Yeah, that's gonna be fun.
Oh, but didn't I say something at the start of this post about a Freudian slip? Yes, I did.
It's not all that big, but it's a little bit funny, to me anyway. You know how I've had, over the years, sex dreams about various people I work with, including attorneys from other firms who happen to be involved in cases I'm involved in? Well if you didn't know that before, now you do. I've had sex dreams about ... wait for it, while I count it up ... six male lawyers I know through work. (I think; I could totally be leaving someone out.) Well one of the most recent subjects of my erotic dreams is this lawyer who is very nice, but in kind of a vanilla way; you know, just a nice guy basically. A pretty good lawyer. And actually pretty funny too; he tends to crack me up more than other lawyers I work with, has a pretty good/distinctive sense of humor. But you know, married, father of two young kids, nice guy, nothing about him whatsoever makes you think anything but "nice guy." But for whatever reason, in my dreams this man has been all into me, and a pretty horny dog.
So last Thursday, I got a call from this lawyer. He was calling to talk to me about that case I have coming up for trial, the one scheduled for the end of August. And he mentioned that troublesome witness of mine; the one who now admits she was wrong about something. He's going to have to question her, on cross, at the trial, and considering the peculiar position my client and my witness and I are all in, he wanted to talk about ways we could potentially deal with this at trial ... even though he's on the other side. See, he knows I'm screwed; and basically, he's probing to see whether or not I might be going to change my client's position somewhat on this particular issue prior to trial, given this new position of my witness; because if I am going to change our position, then he could avoid basically eviscerating my witness on the stand. (That's not what he said, but I know that's what he meant.)
And my witness is a nice woman, a fairly sweet and fairly young woman, who just basically made a mistake, unintentionally, in this case, which unfortunately is fucking us up. So this lawyer, the one I've had the sex dreams about most recently, he said of my witness - - let's call her Annie - - he said ...
[him] "I just don't want to tear her up on cross, you know? I mean, I love Sadie."
Me: "... what?"
Him: "Uh ... I mean ... well, I love you too, Sadie, sure; I mean I love Annie; I mean, uh, I love all of you. He he."
Well I found a way to laugh it off w/o calling more attention to it and get us back on track, but then, strangely, for the rest of the conversation he kept calling my witness, Annie, by my name, Sadie. After the third time he apologized yet again and said he didn't know what his problem was; I assured him that it is pretty common to get people's names mixed up whom you know pretty well, I mean seriously my own sister will call me by her daughter's name and then her dog's name before she'll finally get my name right.
And I know that's true, that you can easily get people's names mixed up like that, especially people's names you know so well you're used to saying all the time ... mixing one familiar person's name for another familiar person's name (like my mom calling me by her sister's name instead of my name)(hmm, or maybe it's just a problem with the women in my family?) Anyway, but ... when I heard him say, that guy, that lawyer I've had the sex dreams about, by accident/slip of the tongue/mistake/whatever, nevertheless when he said, "I love Sadie," well ... it just sent a strange charge up through my body. Maybe because of all those sex dreams; maybe because I kind of wondered if there was a bit of hidden truth to his slip of the tongue; or maybe just because it's such a wonderful thing to hear another person say, one that I don't get the privilege of hearing much at all, if ever. But for whatever reason, damn, it made me smile.
Oh yeah, and I may or may not have had another really hot sex dream about him that night .... :D
The briefs are a pain in my ass, because I'm actually having to argue against what I believe to be the correct position. That is not fun. It's kind of like playing chess or something; very strategizing (can strategizing be used that way in a sentence? my god, my brain is going haywire, ballistic), trying to use moves that will win your client's position, but ones that will get you to that winning position without requiring you to make certain other moves, ones that would leave you open to having your ass taken since all the other players know you're vulnerable if you have to make those particular arguments.
That's probably a terrible example, btw. Yeah, I've been drinking a bit. (And by a bit I mean a lot.)
And the trial is an even bigger pain in my ass. Because my key witness admits that she totally screwed up. Oh boy! "Your honor, you must find in favor of my client. Even though one of our witnesses admits she fucked up, which really undermines all of my credibility arguing this case and leaves me with really no compelling evidence to back up my position, and I wish I could just drop this whole thing, but for complicated reasons I can't and instead have to appear here arguing and totally looking like an idiot for this week-long trial." Yeah, that's gonna be fun.
Oh, but didn't I say something at the start of this post about a Freudian slip? Yes, I did.
It's not all that big, but it's a little bit funny, to me anyway. You know how I've had, over the years, sex dreams about various people I work with, including attorneys from other firms who happen to be involved in cases I'm involved in? Well if you didn't know that before, now you do. I've had sex dreams about ... wait for it, while I count it up ... six male lawyers I know through work. (I think; I could totally be leaving someone out.) Well one of the most recent subjects of my erotic dreams is this lawyer who is very nice, but in kind of a vanilla way; you know, just a nice guy basically. A pretty good lawyer. And actually pretty funny too; he tends to crack me up more than other lawyers I work with, has a pretty good/distinctive sense of humor. But you know, married, father of two young kids, nice guy, nothing about him whatsoever makes you think anything but "nice guy." But for whatever reason, in my dreams this man has been all into me, and a pretty horny dog.
So last Thursday, I got a call from this lawyer. He was calling to talk to me about that case I have coming up for trial, the one scheduled for the end of August. And he mentioned that troublesome witness of mine; the one who now admits she was wrong about something. He's going to have to question her, on cross, at the trial, and considering the peculiar position my client and my witness and I are all in, he wanted to talk about ways we could potentially deal with this at trial ... even though he's on the other side. See, he knows I'm screwed; and basically, he's probing to see whether or not I might be going to change my client's position somewhat on this particular issue prior to trial, given this new position of my witness; because if I am going to change our position, then he could avoid basically eviscerating my witness on the stand. (That's not what he said, but I know that's what he meant.)
And my witness is a nice woman, a fairly sweet and fairly young woman, who just basically made a mistake, unintentionally, in this case, which unfortunately is fucking us up. So this lawyer, the one I've had the sex dreams about most recently, he said of my witness - - let's call her Annie - - he said ...
[him] "I just don't want to tear her up on cross, you know? I mean, I love Sadie."
Me: "... what?"
Him: "Uh ... I mean ... well, I love you too, Sadie, sure; I mean I love Annie; I mean, uh, I love all of you. He he."
Well I found a way to laugh it off w/o calling more attention to it and get us back on track, but then, strangely, for the rest of the conversation he kept calling my witness, Annie, by my name, Sadie. After the third time he apologized yet again and said he didn't know what his problem was; I assured him that it is pretty common to get people's names mixed up whom you know pretty well, I mean seriously my own sister will call me by her daughter's name and then her dog's name before she'll finally get my name right.
And I know that's true, that you can easily get people's names mixed up like that, especially people's names you know so well you're used to saying all the time ... mixing one familiar person's name for another familiar person's name (like my mom calling me by her sister's name instead of my name)(hmm, or maybe it's just a problem with the women in my family?) Anyway, but ... when I heard him say, that guy, that lawyer I've had the sex dreams about, by accident/slip of the tongue/mistake/whatever, nevertheless when he said, "I love Sadie," well ... it just sent a strange charge up through my body. Maybe because of all those sex dreams; maybe because I kind of wondered if there was a bit of hidden truth to his slip of the tongue; or maybe just because it's such a wonderful thing to hear another person say, one that I don't get the privilege of hearing much at all, if ever. But for whatever reason, damn, it made me smile.
Oh yeah, and I may or may not have had another really hot sex dream about him that night .... :D
Monday, July 7, 2008
Loser Among Losers
I admit, I am watching the finale of The Bachelorette tonight. I'm all sucked into the big question of who is it gonna be, Jesse or Jason? Oooh, the suspense.
I also admit that sometimes I lose patience watching tv shows that last a long time (like tonight's finale), but still feel compelled to find out how it ends. Which puts me in a hurry-up-and-be-over mood, where I can't sit still watching the whole thing, but can't walk away without knowing the ending either.
Which brings me to the internet, to the wonderful world of googling. Sitting here in the now second hour of the two hour finale (that's going to be followed up by a one hour "tell-all" episode; holy fuck, ABC is OVERLOADING us with this show), I have lost interest in watching any more, but still I want to find out what's going to happen nevertheless. So I turned to the online search engine giant, asking it to tell me if there are any web sites out there that have spoilers on them about this show; surely it can't be a total secret, somebody out there in cyberland must have leaked the ending.
And that's how I came to the discussion boards on "Fans of Reality TV." Oh. My. God. I am amazed at how seriously invested a lot of tv-watchers out there are in this show. People are freeze-framing the show and analyzing body language and background scenes and stuff, trying to figure out what the stills of the previews they've recorded can tell them about what the ending is going to be. Intense discussions, in-depth analysis. And they are all geared up about tonight's final episode.
One person said in the comments that she is so excited about tonight's finale that she left work early today, and is planning to not go in until lunchtime tomorrow, and has not been able to sleep for two weeks worried about what the outcome is going to be.
And that's when I thought, "holy fuck man, how sad is it that people out there are that into this show that they're taking off time from work and not able to sleep at night for thinking about these reality tv participants' lives?"
And then THAT'S when I thought, "holy fuck man, how sad is it that I've been reading comments on a message board for the Bachelorette on the Fans of Reality TV website for 15 minutes now, as I sit here and simultaneously watch the finale, looking for a give-away to the ending of the show?"
You know, I don't think I really needed to complete that entire sentence above ... I think I could've stopped at "how sad is it that I've been reading comments on a message board ..." ok, maybe throw in the "for the Bachelorette" too, and that would've been plenty enough to show the level of loserdome to which I've sunk tonight.
I think it's important that I turn my tv off now. And maybe my computer too.
I also admit that sometimes I lose patience watching tv shows that last a long time (like tonight's finale), but still feel compelled to find out how it ends. Which puts me in a hurry-up-and-be-over mood, where I can't sit still watching the whole thing, but can't walk away without knowing the ending either.
Which brings me to the internet, to the wonderful world of googling. Sitting here in the now second hour of the two hour finale (that's going to be followed up by a one hour "tell-all" episode; holy fuck, ABC is OVERLOADING us with this show), I have lost interest in watching any more, but still I want to find out what's going to happen nevertheless. So I turned to the online search engine giant, asking it to tell me if there are any web sites out there that have spoilers on them about this show; surely it can't be a total secret, somebody out there in cyberland must have leaked the ending.
And that's how I came to the discussion boards on "Fans of Reality TV." Oh. My. God. I am amazed at how seriously invested a lot of tv-watchers out there are in this show. People are freeze-framing the show and analyzing body language and background scenes and stuff, trying to figure out what the stills of the previews they've recorded can tell them about what the ending is going to be. Intense discussions, in-depth analysis. And they are all geared up about tonight's final episode.
One person said in the comments that she is so excited about tonight's finale that she left work early today, and is planning to not go in until lunchtime tomorrow, and has not been able to sleep for two weeks worried about what the outcome is going to be.
And that's when I thought, "holy fuck man, how sad is it that people out there are that into this show that they're taking off time from work and not able to sleep at night for thinking about these reality tv participants' lives?"
And then THAT'S when I thought, "holy fuck man, how sad is it that I've been reading comments on a message board for the Bachelorette on the Fans of Reality TV website for 15 minutes now, as I sit here and simultaneously watch the finale, looking for a give-away to the ending of the show?"
You know, I don't think I really needed to complete that entire sentence above ... I think I could've stopped at "how sad is it that I've been reading comments on a message board ..." ok, maybe throw in the "for the Bachelorette" too, and that would've been plenty enough to show the level of loserdome to which I've sunk tonight.
I think it's important that I turn my tv off now. And maybe my computer too.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Shit, I'm starting to feel bad
And not just about my lack of blogging.
Although yeah, I do feel bad about that. Chalk it up to the bad friend thing that happens whenever you start a new relationship; the new relationship is great, and fun, so much so that you start to kind of ignore your friends, for all the fun you're having. Or your blog, if you have no friends.
But actually, what I'm feeling bad about right now is the degree to which I am bruising my man's cock. His cock has been suffering bruises ever since we've started fucking. I was hoping that it was just a side effect of my long dry spell; I figured I must be pretty tight after all that time, despite the fun I have with my rabbit. I mean, after all, a rabbit is not a cock, you know? A cock just fills you up so, so, so much more than a rabbit can. So I was thinking that maybe I was experiencing some sort of re-virginization thing; that my pussy had been for so long without cock that it was tighter than a nun's cunt. (Was that too crude? Tighter than a duck's ass, then. Wait, which one do you think is tighter? God, what is WRONG with me, that I actually think about these things?)
So anyway, back to the story. Well before I started dating my hometown guy, I spent many many many many many long months getting my only sexual pleasure from my rabbit vibrator. Which I loved. And must have used way too much, because I finally wore it the fuck out. It just died on me a few weeks ago. And while having a sexual relationship can make the rabbit seem insignificant, having a long-distance relationship makes it nevertheless still necessary. So tonight I went to a sex toy store and bought a new rabbit. Hallelujah; I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it, on my non-hometown-boyfriend nights.
Now when I was in the sex toy store, browsing around and comparing the various options, these two girls who were working the store came over and helped me shop, telling me all the different features for all the different types of apparatuses out there for a single female's pleasure. I ended up just getting a replacement of the same Doc Johnson rabbit I'd had before; but they were so into telling me all about the features of it, how it's better than all the other ones out there, that I just listened to them talk, without telling them I've already experienced the Doc Johnson pleasure for myself and knew all about it.
What was interesting, though, was how they described the multiple functions of my rabbit. Particularly the shaft part of it. Yes, there are these pearl things in there; yes, they can rotate; yes, the head can rotate too; I knew these things from my last rabbit. And I hadn't been impressed by those features in my last rabbit, frankly; they didn't seem to do a whole lot for me. I mean I definitely liked them, but I didn't think they were as powerful as the clit stimulator part. I just liked having the combination of the two together. But these two women were all about the different motions that the shaft of the rabbit can make, and the pleasure that it can give you. And they told me how this particular rabbit has more power, as far as movement and vibration and such, than other versions that are out there.
So when I came back home from the store tonight with my new rabbit, as I was using it for the first time, I closed my eyes and specifically concentrated on, really thought about and tried to make myself aware of, all the movements just in the shaft part; focusing on the feelings of it, you know? And I realized that I wasn't really feeling it, still, the way those women had described.
That's when I remembered all that bruising I've been doing to my new man's dick; and that's when I forcibly made myself relax the muscles in my pussy, and felt more and more and more of the various movements of the pearls and the shaft and the head of my new rabbit. And that's when I realized, too, just how strong my vaginal muscles have become these past few years. Because once I realized I could feel more movement of the rabbit inside me when I really relaxed, I realized just how powerful that rabbit really is, I mean how much movement the shaft part actually has. But then when I got excited, and naturally contracted my muscles somewhat, my vaginal muscles all tensed up on it, grabbing hold of the shaft of that rabbit, holding it still, and then I could feel no movement at all. Even though it was turned up to the highest power. I pulled it out and looked at it, and saw how much the shaft really does move, when it's turned up full throttle, and I experimented again with it inside me, and felt it moving around in there again; but I had to totally relax my muscles, consciously, to feel that. My natural tendency was to clamp down on that shaft with my pussy, which made it stop moving.
So basically I'm left thinking to myself tonight: if my natural bodily reaction to something that's fucking my vagina is to squeeze it so tight that it can't even move even when it's a brand new toy powered by 4 brand new batteries, then no fucking wonder my boyfriend's dick gets bruised every time we fuck. If that rabbit can hardly even move around inside me even at full speed, then damn, but how much must I be hurting my man's thick fleshy cock? Which leaves me with a case of the guilts tonight.
Mostly though a case of the worries that I'm going to keep on bruising him so badly that he's one day going to decide it's just not worth it, pain-wise, to keep fucking me. Now THAT would be tragedy. I MUST NOT let that happen. I could never live with that kind of dry spell again, now that I'm so fully aware of what I'd been missing.
Although yeah, I do feel bad about that. Chalk it up to the bad friend thing that happens whenever you start a new relationship; the new relationship is great, and fun, so much so that you start to kind of ignore your friends, for all the fun you're having. Or your blog, if you have no friends.
But actually, what I'm feeling bad about right now is the degree to which I am bruising my man's cock. His cock has been suffering bruises ever since we've started fucking. I was hoping that it was just a side effect of my long dry spell; I figured I must be pretty tight after all that time, despite the fun I have with my rabbit. I mean, after all, a rabbit is not a cock, you know? A cock just fills you up so, so, so much more than a rabbit can. So I was thinking that maybe I was experiencing some sort of re-virginization thing; that my pussy had been for so long without cock that it was tighter than a nun's cunt. (Was that too crude? Tighter than a duck's ass, then. Wait, which one do you think is tighter? God, what is WRONG with me, that I actually think about these things?)
So anyway, back to the story. Well before I started dating my hometown guy, I spent many many many many many long months getting my only sexual pleasure from my rabbit vibrator. Which I loved. And must have used way too much, because I finally wore it the fuck out. It just died on me a few weeks ago. And while having a sexual relationship can make the rabbit seem insignificant, having a long-distance relationship makes it nevertheless still necessary. So tonight I went to a sex toy store and bought a new rabbit. Hallelujah; I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it, on my non-hometown-boyfriend nights.
Now when I was in the sex toy store, browsing around and comparing the various options, these two girls who were working the store came over and helped me shop, telling me all the different features for all the different types of apparatuses out there for a single female's pleasure. I ended up just getting a replacement of the same Doc Johnson rabbit I'd had before; but they were so into telling me all about the features of it, how it's better than all the other ones out there, that I just listened to them talk, without telling them I've already experienced the Doc Johnson pleasure for myself and knew all about it.
What was interesting, though, was how they described the multiple functions of my rabbit. Particularly the shaft part of it. Yes, there are these pearl things in there; yes, they can rotate; yes, the head can rotate too; I knew these things from my last rabbit. And I hadn't been impressed by those features in my last rabbit, frankly; they didn't seem to do a whole lot for me. I mean I definitely liked them, but I didn't think they were as powerful as the clit stimulator part. I just liked having the combination of the two together. But these two women were all about the different motions that the shaft of the rabbit can make, and the pleasure that it can give you. And they told me how this particular rabbit has more power, as far as movement and vibration and such, than other versions that are out there.
So when I came back home from the store tonight with my new rabbit, as I was using it for the first time, I closed my eyes and specifically concentrated on, really thought about and tried to make myself aware of, all the movements just in the shaft part; focusing on the feelings of it, you know? And I realized that I wasn't really feeling it, still, the way those women had described.
That's when I remembered all that bruising I've been doing to my new man's dick; and that's when I forcibly made myself relax the muscles in my pussy, and felt more and more and more of the various movements of the pearls and the shaft and the head of my new rabbit. And that's when I realized, too, just how strong my vaginal muscles have become these past few years. Because once I realized I could feel more movement of the rabbit inside me when I really relaxed, I realized just how powerful that rabbit really is, I mean how much movement the shaft part actually has. But then when I got excited, and naturally contracted my muscles somewhat, my vaginal muscles all tensed up on it, grabbing hold of the shaft of that rabbit, holding it still, and then I could feel no movement at all. Even though it was turned up to the highest power. I pulled it out and looked at it, and saw how much the shaft really does move, when it's turned up full throttle, and I experimented again with it inside me, and felt it moving around in there again; but I had to totally relax my muscles, consciously, to feel that. My natural tendency was to clamp down on that shaft with my pussy, which made it stop moving.
So basically I'm left thinking to myself tonight: if my natural bodily reaction to something that's fucking my vagina is to squeeze it so tight that it can't even move even when it's a brand new toy powered by 4 brand new batteries, then no fucking wonder my boyfriend's dick gets bruised every time we fuck. If that rabbit can hardly even move around inside me even at full speed, then damn, but how much must I be hurting my man's thick fleshy cock? Which leaves me with a case of the guilts tonight.
Mostly though a case of the worries that I'm going to keep on bruising him so badly that he's one day going to decide it's just not worth it, pain-wise, to keep fucking me. Now THAT would be tragedy. I MUST NOT let that happen. I could never live with that kind of dry spell again, now that I'm so fully aware of what I'd been missing.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Out with the old, in with the new
My rabbit died on me last night. Died! It's not the batteries; I put fresh batteries in, and the lights still come on when I turn it on. And I still hear a little noise, like it's trying to do something. But no matter how high I turn the power up, my beloved little rabbit is just not moving or vibrating at all on me anymore.
I think I wore the poor little thing out. Seriously, I've put it to a LOT of use since I've had it. It got me through a very long dry spell.
So maybe it's appropriate enough that it is finally dying on me now, now that I have a man in my life to take its place. And he's MUCH better and a thousand times more satisfying than the rabbit. I mean, seriously ... the rabbit gave me a lot of pleasure; but how the fuck did I survive this long without real, live fucking? I don't know, but I'll tell you what; I'm sure as fuck never going anywhere near that long without it again, no matter what. And considering how much of a sex freak as me my new man is, I don't think that'll be a problem anyway.
Still, I am already missing my sweet til-now-reliable bunny. It's provided me with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of orgasms and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of hours of fun over the past few years. I almost hate to throw it out, even if it's not vibrating for me anymore.
So I think this weekend, when my hometown guy comes up to visit, I'll take him to a sex store with me to do some new toy shopping. After all, he might have as much fun using it on me when we're together from time to time as I'll have using it on myself when I'm not with him. A new toy, to go with my new man; mmmm-hmmm, I think that is definitely a good thing. Oh, and hey, he did mention something one time about an idea he has, something to try, something to do with his electric drill and a dildo ... might be time to give that a try ... hmmmmm .......
So good-bye old rabbit, and old pathetically battery-dependent sex life; hello, new toy, and incredibly exciting and erotic sex-filled life with my hometown guy. Here's to all the orgasms the former provided me during my sad dry spell, and to all the fantastic ones I'm looking forward to having even more of with the latter in all the time to come.
I think I wore the poor little thing out. Seriously, I've put it to a LOT of use since I've had it. It got me through a very long dry spell.
So maybe it's appropriate enough that it is finally dying on me now, now that I have a man in my life to take its place. And he's MUCH better and a thousand times more satisfying than the rabbit. I mean, seriously ... the rabbit gave me a lot of pleasure; but how the fuck did I survive this long without real, live fucking? I don't know, but I'll tell you what; I'm sure as fuck never going anywhere near that long without it again, no matter what. And considering how much of a sex freak as me my new man is, I don't think that'll be a problem anyway.
Still, I am already missing my sweet til-now-reliable bunny. It's provided me with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of orgasms and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of hours of fun over the past few years. I almost hate to throw it out, even if it's not vibrating for me anymore.
So I think this weekend, when my hometown guy comes up to visit, I'll take him to a sex store with me to do some new toy shopping. After all, he might have as much fun using it on me when we're together from time to time as I'll have using it on myself when I'm not with him. A new toy, to go with my new man; mmmm-hmmm, I think that is definitely a good thing. Oh, and hey, he did mention something one time about an idea he has, something to try, something to do with his electric drill and a dildo ... might be time to give that a try ... hmmmmm .......
So good-bye old rabbit, and old pathetically battery-dependent sex life; hello, new toy, and incredibly exciting and erotic sex-filled life with my hometown guy. Here's to all the orgasms the former provided me during my sad dry spell, and to all the fantastic ones I'm looking forward to having even more of with the latter in all the time to come.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
It's been a shit day.
First I slept later than I meant to. I didn't oversleep so much that I was late for work; I just slept over enough that I was in a mad rush to shower and dress and drive to work. And I had a hearing at 10 am this morning, and needed to go by the office first to get my stuff together for it, so that made me feel all the more harried.
Then I got to my hearing. Everything seemed like it was going to go very smoothly. I was bringing an action on behalf of my client against someone for something that seemed kind of ordinary ... in the course of my particular job, that is. Like, it was an ordinary kind of case for me. I walked in, introduced myself to the lawyer on the other side, whom I'd talked to several times before but not yet met, and caught a glimpse of his client in profile from the corner of my eye. And then I sat down and pulled out my files, etc., and lined them up on the table. Said hello to my witnesses.
And then I looked back over at the client on the other side again. The party against whom I was bringing this action on behalf of my own client.
It was fucking one of the nice guys from College Mart. The store around the corner that is open 24/7 that I shop at all the fucking time. I mean; damn. Damn! I was pissed. Because right in that moment, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. And if not that, then I wanted to be able to stand up and say "nevermind; we withdraw our case." But of course that didn't happen either. Couldn't, or else I'd probably lose my job for doing that kind of shit.
For a very long minute he and I exchanged quick looks across the table from each other, each looking up real quick and then down again in turn w/o making actual eye contact. Then finally our eyes met. I smiled at him; he pointed his finger at me and said "College Mart. Right?" I said "I was just about to say the same thing." "Marlboro Lights," he said. "And cat food too," I replied. Everyone else laughed.
Just to give a little more info: this particular guy usually works the late night/early morning shift, and so I don't see him all that often. But I have seen him plenty enough, and made the nice quick little exchange of info often enough. He got to know me as a regular, so that we'd say hi whenever I did see him in there. And he actually did give me a free pack of Marlboro Lights one time. One time when I had gotten up super early for work b/c I had a big emergency hearing that I was stressed out about and trying to prepare for and couldn't sleep as a result of, I went to College Mart about 4:30 in the morning for a 20oz cup of coffee and a pack of cigs, and he only charged me for the coffee. I said something, and he said "don't worry about it." And I smiled and said "thanks." And meant it. So I'm sayin ... I felt like shit, seeing him there in this room. Knowing I was the bad guy to him in this particular situation. It sucked.
The hearing took about 4 hours. There was no ruling at the end of it, so I don't know yet which side won. I of course did what I had to do for my job ... but at the same time, I was not overly aggressive in any way; I conceded a few minor things to his lawyer, and I secretly internally in my head smiled whenever his lawyer scored a good point. Because really given how weak my case was compared to normal ones, and the fact that it was this guy, I wanted him to win. But not enough to not do my job. So it was quite the internal dilemma.
Well that was my morning. And that sucked. And it all put me in a bad mood.
And then I came home, and found another fucking headache waiting at my door.
See, today was trash pick-up day in my neighborhood. I have recently done quite a lot of spring cleaning, getting rid of old clothes that I haven't worn in years and that are too frayed/hole-y/etc. to even give away, getting rid basically of a lot of junk that I shouldn't be holding on to and that actually isn't even worth selling or giving away. And in the process, I had filled up a lot of Hefty Flex garbage bags with junk to be tossed. And those bags had been sitting just outside my back door, waiting for garbage pickup. A lot of them in my roll cart ... but a lot of them on the ground, too, b/c the roll car was full.
Well this morning, after I put my roll cart out by the curb, I saw my neighbor put his roll cart out. Actually, I should say his and his mother's, b/c he lives next door with his mother, a nice woman. But he's a little shit. A guy who is young but still too old to be living with his mother, in my opinion, kind of guy basically. And then the guy got in his car and left. Well since he'd left, and his mother had already left before that, and there was their garbage roll cart out by the curb waiting for collection, which occurs early in the morning in our part of the neighborhood, I decided that they definitely must have put out all the garbage they intended to put out today for collection, and so I went outside and looked in their roll cart to see whether it was full or not. It was only half full. So I put some of my bags in it; I managed to squeeze four more of my Heft Flex bags in their roll cart. And that left me with only three extra bags, which I put by the curb.
And a boring but important to this story side note is that I have found out from previous experience that our city's garbage collectors who empty our roll carts will pick up up to 4 additional garbage bags you leave by your curb that don't fit into your roll cart, but that if there are more than 4 extra bags then they leave all of those alone, and you're supposed to call the city department to ask them to send a special truck around your house to pick up all the extras. So you see, I knew that I would now have all my bags collected, because all but 3 were in roll carts now.
Well when my hearing was over today, around 2 pm, I swung by my house to grab a bite to eat for lunch. When I pulled up to the house, I noticed the neighbor son's shit car parked by the house, so I figured he was home. And then I noticed my roll carts at the curb, looking empty. And then I saw the garbage bags on the ground by the curb, still there .... seven of them.
Seven? Wtf?, I thought. I suspected, but I thought "surely not." But of course, when I looked, there were the three extras that I had put out that morning on the ground ... as well as the four that I had squeezed in to the neighbor's top half of their only half-filled roll cart.
Sonofabitch. That fucking little pipsqueak must have come home after I left but before the garbage pick up truck came by, saw that his rollcart was fuller than it had been (b/c the top wouldn't fully close after I put my bags in it), realized they were mine, and fucking took them out and put them on the ground. And then since that made 7 on the ground, the regular trash people of course did not collect them. Sonofabitch.
Now you may be wondering to yourself whether I should really be blaming this neighbor son guy. Who would do that, you might ask? Take garbage out and toss it aside. Maybe, you might be thinking, we should give him the benefit of the doubt, and say even though SOMEONE obviously took JUST MY bags out of that particular roll cart, maybe the neighbors came back home to put more garbage in their roll cart for collection, and couldn't fit it in b/c of my bags, and that's why they took my bags out. But, that's a stretch. Because seriously, our garbage gets picked up at around 9 to 10 am usually, and he'd already put their cart by the curb and left ... for what I thought was the day but was probably just a trip to the grocery store. Anyway, point is, I did not take up their cart with my shit beforehand or in any way such that I was keeping them from being able to use all their available garbage space; they clearly only had half a roll cart worth of garbage to empty. So why the fuck take my bags out? Why go to that trouble?
Well since you asked, I'll tell you why. It's because of the back gate. That's right ... the back gate, the one in the fence in our shared back yard. I know you're thinking I'm crazy and/or getting way off track of my story here, but just bear with me; I'll explain.
See, about a month ago I came home from a trip to the grocery store one afternoon, parked my car in our shared carport, and walked through our open gate to our fenced-in back yard, to go through my back door into my side of our duplex. And as I was walking through the gate, the neighbor son came out the back door of their half of the duplex and accosted me. He yelled at me ... for leaving the gate open.
Apparently after I had left for the store, he had let their two little (fucking annoying) lap dogs out their back door, to play and poop in our back yard. And he must not have been supervising them; he must have assumed the back gate was closed. Because one of them wandered outside our yard. And the neighbor boy was yelling at me, saying it was my fault that one of his dogs was missing, because I didn't close the gate. (The dogs were not outside when I left, I remind you.) "I have to come out here every damn day behind you and close this gate. And now one of my dogs is missing, all because of you." He was yelling this. It was not a pleasant moment for me. I sheepishly apologized (I do not like getting yelled at, and felt I was in the wrong at the moment because I HAD left the back gate open), and I quickly went inside my house.
And that's when I started getting irritated ... because I thought to myself, after I got inside my house, "they never asked me to keep that gate closed. I've lived here years longer than they have; I was already in the habit of leaving the gate open whenever I wanted. And when they moved in a year and a half ago, they didn't say anything to me about the gate, or the backyard, or their dogs ... they've had plenty of opportunity to ask me politely to keep the back gate closed if it was an issue with the dogs, but they never did. And now he's YELLING at me for not doing something that he never bothered to politely ask me to do in the first place? And isn't it HIS fucking responsibility anyway to make sure that the dogs don't run away, since they're his dogs ... I mean the dogs weren't outside when I left; so when he decided to let the dogs outside, why didn't he check first to make sure the gate was closed, if it was an issue, since they're his damn dogs and he'd never asked me to keep it closed? I mean, fuck!" So yeah, I got belatedly mad. And of course never said anything to him later about it, or his mother, though I wanted to, because I kept thinking to myself whenever I saw the neighbor boy (I started out this blog calling him neighbor son, and am now calling him neighbor boy, I just realized ... I think it's because I've gotten more annoyed at him yet again as I've been writing this, and neighbor boy just sounds slightly more demeaning) I think to myself looking at him, "you are a shithead for yelling at me over something that wasn't my fault ... and then never apologizing for it afterward. You little pipsqueak shithead." (Yeah, I'm not always very creative with my mental insults.)
(By the way, the annoying fuckass lapdog was quickly found by neighbor pipsqueak boy. And was soon safely back inside their side of the house. Barking like shit as always, traveling easily through the walls of the duplex, annoying the hell out of me. Not that I've ever complained to them about it, because I'm not that petty kind of neighbor that he apparently is.)
So I'm just sayin' ... I just KNOW that's totally why that neighbor pipsqueak boy took my bags out of his roll cart right before garbage collection time. Not because my bags were taking up space he needed; but just because he wanted to get back at me for leaving the damn back gate open that time. The little shit.
By the way, I vented about this earlier today to my Hometown Guy, and he said that neighbor boy no longer deserves for me to make the effort to always shut the gate behind me, after this little show of unjustified pettiness. In fact, he suggested that from now on, or at least until I get an apology, I make a concerted effort to make sure the gate stays open all the time. So if I'm at home, for instance, and I've left the gate open, and neighbor shitheadpipsqueak comes home and closes it, I should wait two minutes or so after he's gone inside, and then go out and open the gate. Even though I don't even want to walk through it to go anywhere. Just open it, and then go back inside. What do you all think? Would you do that, given this story I've just related?
One last shit moment about my day so far. See all that other stuff put me in a bad mood. But when I got home from work at the end of the day, I was ready to put my bad day behind me. Or try to anyway. And I decided to do some laundry, in particular to wash and change the sheets on my bed. So I was in my bedroom, and I pulled off the topsheet and threw it in the washing machine. And then I grabbed hold of the bottom fitted sheet, and pulled. And I guess the smart thing to do would've been to go around to each corner of the bed and untuck the fitted corners before I pulled it off. But I'm not always smart, so instead I just grabbed a handful and pulled. Hard. For a second nothing happened; there was no movement of the sheet. But then suddenly it pulled free. Like, fast. So fast and suddenly as I was pulling on it so mightily with my fists that one of my fists came right back at me and smacked me in my fucking nose. And I heard something in my nose snap, like in a sick way. Since I did not start bleeding from my nose, and since the pain, though sucking initially, soon went away, I'm assuming I didn't break anything. But I definitely bent some cartilage way the fuck out of its normal position. Because it was a sick sound, when my own fist punched my own nose. And frankly, that's just a fitting end to a sucky day.
But at least I do have a consolation, a great one: tonight, in just a couple hours actually, I am off to drive down to the Hometown Guy's home, to have a late-night date with him and spend the night ... and the weekend. Because I don't work tomorrow, and he doesn't have to work much tomorrow. So woohoo; I'm about to get three whole nights and days in a row's worth of fucking. And sweetness and romance and fantastic companionship too. And THAT is just AWESOME.
Have a great weekend, everyone!!!
Then I got to my hearing. Everything seemed like it was going to go very smoothly. I was bringing an action on behalf of my client against someone for something that seemed kind of ordinary ... in the course of my particular job, that is. Like, it was an ordinary kind of case for me. I walked in, introduced myself to the lawyer on the other side, whom I'd talked to several times before but not yet met, and caught a glimpse of his client in profile from the corner of my eye. And then I sat down and pulled out my files, etc., and lined them up on the table. Said hello to my witnesses.
And then I looked back over at the client on the other side again. The party against whom I was bringing this action on behalf of my own client.
It was fucking one of the nice guys from College Mart. The store around the corner that is open 24/7 that I shop at all the fucking time. I mean; damn. Damn! I was pissed. Because right in that moment, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. And if not that, then I wanted to be able to stand up and say "nevermind; we withdraw our case." But of course that didn't happen either. Couldn't, or else I'd probably lose my job for doing that kind of shit.
For a very long minute he and I exchanged quick looks across the table from each other, each looking up real quick and then down again in turn w/o making actual eye contact. Then finally our eyes met. I smiled at him; he pointed his finger at me and said "College Mart. Right?" I said "I was just about to say the same thing." "Marlboro Lights," he said. "And cat food too," I replied. Everyone else laughed.
Just to give a little more info: this particular guy usually works the late night/early morning shift, and so I don't see him all that often. But I have seen him plenty enough, and made the nice quick little exchange of info often enough. He got to know me as a regular, so that we'd say hi whenever I did see him in there. And he actually did give me a free pack of Marlboro Lights one time. One time when I had gotten up super early for work b/c I had a big emergency hearing that I was stressed out about and trying to prepare for and couldn't sleep as a result of, I went to College Mart about 4:30 in the morning for a 20oz cup of coffee and a pack of cigs, and he only charged me for the coffee. I said something, and he said "don't worry about it." And I smiled and said "thanks." And meant it. So I'm sayin ... I felt like shit, seeing him there in this room. Knowing I was the bad guy to him in this particular situation. It sucked.
The hearing took about 4 hours. There was no ruling at the end of it, so I don't know yet which side won. I of course did what I had to do for my job ... but at the same time, I was not overly aggressive in any way; I conceded a few minor things to his lawyer, and I secretly internally in my head smiled whenever his lawyer scored a good point. Because really given how weak my case was compared to normal ones, and the fact that it was this guy, I wanted him to win. But not enough to not do my job. So it was quite the internal dilemma.
Well that was my morning. And that sucked. And it all put me in a bad mood.
And then I came home, and found another fucking headache waiting at my door.
See, today was trash pick-up day in my neighborhood. I have recently done quite a lot of spring cleaning, getting rid of old clothes that I haven't worn in years and that are too frayed/hole-y/etc. to even give away, getting rid basically of a lot of junk that I shouldn't be holding on to and that actually isn't even worth selling or giving away. And in the process, I had filled up a lot of Hefty Flex garbage bags with junk to be tossed. And those bags had been sitting just outside my back door, waiting for garbage pickup. A lot of them in my roll cart ... but a lot of them on the ground, too, b/c the roll car was full.
Well this morning, after I put my roll cart out by the curb, I saw my neighbor put his roll cart out. Actually, I should say his and his mother's, b/c he lives next door with his mother, a nice woman. But he's a little shit. A guy who is young but still too old to be living with his mother, in my opinion, kind of guy basically. And then the guy got in his car and left. Well since he'd left, and his mother had already left before that, and there was their garbage roll cart out by the curb waiting for collection, which occurs early in the morning in our part of the neighborhood, I decided that they definitely must have put out all the garbage they intended to put out today for collection, and so I went outside and looked in their roll cart to see whether it was full or not. It was only half full. So I put some of my bags in it; I managed to squeeze four more of my Heft Flex bags in their roll cart. And that left me with only three extra bags, which I put by the curb.
And a boring but important to this story side note is that I have found out from previous experience that our city's garbage collectors who empty our roll carts will pick up up to 4 additional garbage bags you leave by your curb that don't fit into your roll cart, but that if there are more than 4 extra bags then they leave all of those alone, and you're supposed to call the city department to ask them to send a special truck around your house to pick up all the extras. So you see, I knew that I would now have all my bags collected, because all but 3 were in roll carts now.
Well when my hearing was over today, around 2 pm, I swung by my house to grab a bite to eat for lunch. When I pulled up to the house, I noticed the neighbor son's shit car parked by the house, so I figured he was home. And then I noticed my roll carts at the curb, looking empty. And then I saw the garbage bags on the ground by the curb, still there .... seven of them.
Seven? Wtf?, I thought. I suspected, but I thought "surely not." But of course, when I looked, there were the three extras that I had put out that morning on the ground ... as well as the four that I had squeezed in to the neighbor's top half of their only half-filled roll cart.
Sonofabitch. That fucking little pipsqueak must have come home after I left but before the garbage pick up truck came by, saw that his rollcart was fuller than it had been (b/c the top wouldn't fully close after I put my bags in it), realized they were mine, and fucking took them out and put them on the ground. And then since that made 7 on the ground, the regular trash people of course did not collect them. Sonofabitch.
Now you may be wondering to yourself whether I should really be blaming this neighbor son guy. Who would do that, you might ask? Take garbage out and toss it aside. Maybe, you might be thinking, we should give him the benefit of the doubt, and say even though SOMEONE obviously took JUST MY bags out of that particular roll cart, maybe the neighbors came back home to put more garbage in their roll cart for collection, and couldn't fit it in b/c of my bags, and that's why they took my bags out. But, that's a stretch. Because seriously, our garbage gets picked up at around 9 to 10 am usually, and he'd already put their cart by the curb and left ... for what I thought was the day but was probably just a trip to the grocery store. Anyway, point is, I did not take up their cart with my shit beforehand or in any way such that I was keeping them from being able to use all their available garbage space; they clearly only had half a roll cart worth of garbage to empty. So why the fuck take my bags out? Why go to that trouble?
Well since you asked, I'll tell you why. It's because of the back gate. That's right ... the back gate, the one in the fence in our shared back yard. I know you're thinking I'm crazy and/or getting way off track of my story here, but just bear with me; I'll explain.
See, about a month ago I came home from a trip to the grocery store one afternoon, parked my car in our shared carport, and walked through our open gate to our fenced-in back yard, to go through my back door into my side of our duplex. And as I was walking through the gate, the neighbor son came out the back door of their half of the duplex and accosted me. He yelled at me ... for leaving the gate open.
Apparently after I had left for the store, he had let their two little (fucking annoying) lap dogs out their back door, to play and poop in our back yard. And he must not have been supervising them; he must have assumed the back gate was closed. Because one of them wandered outside our yard. And the neighbor boy was yelling at me, saying it was my fault that one of his dogs was missing, because I didn't close the gate. (The dogs were not outside when I left, I remind you.) "I have to come out here every damn day behind you and close this gate. And now one of my dogs is missing, all because of you." He was yelling this. It was not a pleasant moment for me. I sheepishly apologized (I do not like getting yelled at, and felt I was in the wrong at the moment because I HAD left the back gate open), and I quickly went inside my house.
And that's when I started getting irritated ... because I thought to myself, after I got inside my house, "they never asked me to keep that gate closed. I've lived here years longer than they have; I was already in the habit of leaving the gate open whenever I wanted. And when they moved in a year and a half ago, they didn't say anything to me about the gate, or the backyard, or their dogs ... they've had plenty of opportunity to ask me politely to keep the back gate closed if it was an issue with the dogs, but they never did. And now he's YELLING at me for not doing something that he never bothered to politely ask me to do in the first place? And isn't it HIS fucking responsibility anyway to make sure that the dogs don't run away, since they're his dogs ... I mean the dogs weren't outside when I left; so when he decided to let the dogs outside, why didn't he check first to make sure the gate was closed, if it was an issue, since they're his damn dogs and he'd never asked me to keep it closed? I mean, fuck!" So yeah, I got belatedly mad. And of course never said anything to him later about it, or his mother, though I wanted to, because I kept thinking to myself whenever I saw the neighbor boy (I started out this blog calling him neighbor son, and am now calling him neighbor boy, I just realized ... I think it's because I've gotten more annoyed at him yet again as I've been writing this, and neighbor boy just sounds slightly more demeaning) I think to myself looking at him, "you are a shithead for yelling at me over something that wasn't my fault ... and then never apologizing for it afterward. You little pipsqueak shithead." (Yeah, I'm not always very creative with my mental insults.)
(By the way, the annoying fuckass lapdog was quickly found by neighbor pipsqueak boy. And was soon safely back inside their side of the house. Barking like shit as always, traveling easily through the walls of the duplex, annoying the hell out of me. Not that I've ever complained to them about it, because I'm not that petty kind of neighbor that he apparently is.)
So I'm just sayin' ... I just KNOW that's totally why that neighbor pipsqueak boy took my bags out of his roll cart right before garbage collection time. Not because my bags were taking up space he needed; but just because he wanted to get back at me for leaving the damn back gate open that time. The little shit.
By the way, I vented about this earlier today to my Hometown Guy, and he said that neighbor boy no longer deserves for me to make the effort to always shut the gate behind me, after this little show of unjustified pettiness. In fact, he suggested that from now on, or at least until I get an apology, I make a concerted effort to make sure the gate stays open all the time. So if I'm at home, for instance, and I've left the gate open, and neighbor shitheadpipsqueak comes home and closes it, I should wait two minutes or so after he's gone inside, and then go out and open the gate. Even though I don't even want to walk through it to go anywhere. Just open it, and then go back inside. What do you all think? Would you do that, given this story I've just related?
One last shit moment about my day so far. See all that other stuff put me in a bad mood. But when I got home from work at the end of the day, I was ready to put my bad day behind me. Or try to anyway. And I decided to do some laundry, in particular to wash and change the sheets on my bed. So I was in my bedroom, and I pulled off the topsheet and threw it in the washing machine. And then I grabbed hold of the bottom fitted sheet, and pulled. And I guess the smart thing to do would've been to go around to each corner of the bed and untuck the fitted corners before I pulled it off. But I'm not always smart, so instead I just grabbed a handful and pulled. Hard. For a second nothing happened; there was no movement of the sheet. But then suddenly it pulled free. Like, fast. So fast and suddenly as I was pulling on it so mightily with my fists that one of my fists came right back at me and smacked me in my fucking nose. And I heard something in my nose snap, like in a sick way. Since I did not start bleeding from my nose, and since the pain, though sucking initially, soon went away, I'm assuming I didn't break anything. But I definitely bent some cartilage way the fuck out of its normal position. Because it was a sick sound, when my own fist punched my own nose. And frankly, that's just a fitting end to a sucky day.
But at least I do have a consolation, a great one: tonight, in just a couple hours actually, I am off to drive down to the Hometown Guy's home, to have a late-night date with him and spend the night ... and the weekend. Because I don't work tomorrow, and he doesn't have to work much tomorrow. So woohoo; I'm about to get three whole nights and days in a row's worth of fucking. And sweetness and romance and fantastic companionship too. And THAT is just AWESOME.
Have a great weekend, everyone!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
