Resuscitation

I knew you couldn't stay away too long. Welcome back... here's your key.

Tool-Parabola

"Have we reached the end?"

"We have. It lies at the other end of the hallway, don't you see it?"

"I admit I see nothing, but I'm curious as to what's lies waiting for us in the darkness... you?"

"Absolutely."

"What if it ends in silence and we all fold up like paper?"

"Then I want to say now that it's been one hell of a ride, and thanks."

"We'll come back though, we have to... who will tell the story?"

"The messenger... we'll send the messenger...."

-- Godspeed to you, go quietly now

Inward dialogue

It only takes two seconds before almost immediately the stale mold on the breaded, crusty life force scrapes away and wafts into a summer evening breeze... Mingling with the fire flies.


Dances, teases and seeks to find something else to cling to.

My fingers feel nimble and overstimulated, my senses are alive with rapid and blunt strobes of juxtaposition.

Zero chance it would ever be brushed as easily as it's predecessor was so recently from my shoulders.

Though parts of this fungal armor have been missed and overlooked where the tainted areas are still adhering... unreachable from six different angles.

Those tidbits of repugnant irritations linger... But I hope not for long.

I am a child, I need to play. So the two heels click, they tap softly on a glossy floor.

I can see my reflection smiling back through the snapshots of color and music... Welcoming me to the happy warm comfort of something I forgot six lonely weeks ago.

And who is this woman? Does she remember?
It's an energy you know. A pulse and passion that five stallions couldn't drive for water if thirsty and emaciated.

It was only three hours later I was concealed in the music, touched by the others that had stayed, making their cardbox homes under the tables and in the restrooms, all suits are represented. Strange but vague they smile and kiss; they grow in their spiritual adolescence.... To find the four things.

Or was it three? Yet and still...

What makes them whole? Is it the same as me? Perhaps a piece is missing still... But no, it couldn't be. I feel quite together, and yet I think it's the staunchy mold that I cannot scratch off, festering....

It must come off. It must.... I could taste much better if only I could be completely free of it... But it's a task and my brow is weary. What to do?

I've scrubbed, antiscepted... prepared and treated.

I should go down the staircase again, only to return when I've fully bound myself in everything that is purely electric... But then, would you go two? And if you did, I know there would be no return.

So now if you choose, take my hand and let's walk... I'll attempt the first crooked faulty step downwards.

Promise to plant your hands firmly on either shoulder when you push.

Krafty start to the Weekend

We now bring you the marshmellow story, as it should be told:



Oh, sorry... That's not the marshmellow story. This is the Marshmellow story:

EN: Thanks for bringing up the marshmallow story. That's much appreciated. Remind me to jab your balls with my pencil the next time I see you... Just for fun.

ES: You're welcome. Thanks for mentioning that bottle. You have to admit the marshmello story is a classic and should be told. When was that, a couple years ago wasn't it? My god that was funny. How long did it take you to get all that stickiness off? If I remember it was a couple of days.

EN: Yes, but it took a week to get it completely out of my hair. I had to throw away that bra and panties too. Not to mention the price I paid to the rental shop for the damage to the costume.

I can laugh at it now yeah, but dammit there were mentors there. And you got marshmallow shit all over them. Now everytime they see goddamn marshmallows in their cocoa it's me they're going to think of. I honestly have no idea if we should tell that story, then I'll get the jokes all over again. Again, thanks.

ES: How much did you end up paying? I don't remember it getting in your hair. It did squirt out everywhere didn't it? LOL! Ohmygod stop, my side hurts from laughing. Next time they decide to do renaissance we should check the weather for overcast conditions maybe. Did Kraft ever contact you for a commercial spot after that one?

If you could tell the story, in a shortened version like almost a blurb, how would you present it? And TRY to do it without running off at the mouth... Advertise the story if you will. Impress me.

EN: I want to fucking hate you. I know this will end up cut and pasted on the blog page tonight. I see it happening I know what you're doing. Okay fine.

I paid $325.00 for the costume. Because if you remember correctly I had to buy it. Here's why
--- (cut and paste here fuckerface)----

Two years ago there was a festival here that local business owners and journalists in the alternative business community attend. That year the theme was medieval or something like that. Anyway.

I decided to not go as a deity but as a 'peasant' and the dress required an abundance of cleavage. I do not have an abundance, so I needed some help... I did not know this until shortly after picking up the dress at the shop and putting it on in the store room of this pub in the immediate area of the party.

As Shawn and I were changing for the event I realized that my breasts would not fill the top of the dress and instead gave me the 'bowl effect.'

I tried paper towels, I tried potatoes... even peanuts (try putting peanuts in your bra and setting your tit's on TOP of the peanuts... ummm NO. Shawn immediately spied the bags of marshmallows... tons of them.

This pub has a specialty drink whose specialty has marshmallows and 151... So LOTS of marshmallows in the store room.

I stuff two bags of marshmallows (large and still in the bags) into and under each cup of my bra, and in the back of my underwear to simulate my bustle(petticoat) to stick out more... Junk in my trunk style.

We go to party... My tits and ass look great and so does the costume. But it's August and 90 degrees outside and damn, the event is in the one park here that has NO trees... So I'm destined to get a little warm.

Soon my nether regions felt a little squishy... Something weird and kinda sticky was happening in my arm pit. Thank god I hadn't needed to sit down anytime soon, though it felt that perhaps my dress was more stuck to me then from just gentle perspiration.

Things get worse as time progresses and I tell Shawn of my plight. He points me in the direction of the bathroom (laughing) and on my way there I happen to run into a couple of local book authors I'm really in adoration of... I stop to chat for a moment. Another good friend of mine that owns a popular toy shop stopped to say hello to the five of us and a good conversation was brewing there.

Until... Shawn and MM decided it would be special to come up and slap me on the chest, thus having a hit-a-cream-puff-with-a-sledgehammer-effect when her hand hit my diaphram.

melted emma's breasts marshmallows went everywhere. Popped like a zit right out the top of my bustline and all over my peers... And me, and Shawn.. Who in turn smacked my ass and proceeded to burst the remaining two in tact (yet soupy) bags in my underwear. And creating the same effect down the inside of my legs.

Ever walk with your dress and thighs stuck to marshmallow fluff and all the time explaining WHY you had marshmallow bags in your bra and panties? Across a good 1.2 mile park until you reached a park bathroom with NO paper towels? Poor water supply?

(this is where you insert the distasteful ways you've teased me since.)

That's how I would tell the story. It's up to you of course how you're going to tell it, I'm sure in your case you will be sure and highlight the part where we're changing together and how you really enjoyed stuffing those marshmallows in my panties.

ES: Distasteful? Fluffy the marshmellow scout was not distasteful. If he would have made it through the mail he would have looked better. I did highlight those parts, and I don't have to add the comment about the panty stuffing. Because you just did that for me. Starfucker, I knew I kept you around for a reason.
You still ran off at the mouth though.

Gone to look for me HNT

While none of you were looking we made a pact not to expose either story (i.e. the Observation Deck or the Marshmellow story)... today.

I think we both learned that coming back to the journalism desk after an extended period of time off leaves little time to concentrate on laughing at each other. We will start off next week with those stories.

We agreed on Monday. Something tells me that Shawn will jump ahead of me and post tomorrow... we'll see.

BUTT
Today I got an assignment that got my blood boiling. I'm totally into it, like completely. So I think that I will prepare and pack my facts until around 10 and then go out (which also I have not done for almost over a month).


I have found that I am totally out of touch with the person I was six or so months ago. I've felt my libido decline and my stimulation for errr stimulation wane. I've had a lot of not-so-sexy personal issues to attend to... legalities and support for people that have needed me, family too has become a major hand-holder (which of course is never an issue)...

How do you non-freaky non-fetish people do it? The same thing day after day with no bizarro-fill? No mind altering sexual touchdown spike of the playfull senses?

*YAWN*

For me, I simply do not understand. But then, I've been called a muse so maybe it's not within me to understand but instead embrace myself.

I should be out being me lately, and I haven't been. There's a fifty percent missing in the equation. My friends have taken note as I have remained blind to it...


The club calls, and my other fifty percent is there.

For now, here's an oldie but a goodie... I will get around to posting new pictures very soon :)



Happy HNT Everybody, one more day til Friday.



If you want to learn more about HNT, click on the rolling box and talk to my big sweet HNT daddy, Osbasso!

Homeward Bound you sickwit

In honor of Editor Shawns return to his blog home here I promised to script a list of memories for him to tackle. I think I mentioned this the week before last but since work had been hectic I never had time to write the list.

Many of you were curious as to what the list might look like.

Well, since I clearly cannot post them all to protect the innocent and other's privacy issues I will post a handful which actually compliment the emailed list I sent to him. I have also included a piece of a picture at the end that may help to amplify any hidden spikes of synapse that are not aroused during the list.

He's a visual creature, I'm a bitch like that.... On we go:

1. The first time I met you I called you queer, not because I thought you were gay but because you complimented me on my wrists amd then broke down 24 ways to tie knots so they wouldn't budge. Then you told me I liked your shoes. Not that you liked mine, that I like YOURS... idiot :)

2. There's a black box in your lower left hand desk drawer, open it and check the ticket stub... Read what's written on the back. Try and ignore the other things in that black box please, we can get to that later.

3. You wanted to date that waitress at the little italian place a few doors down, you really liked the meatballs. I think she still likes you, you might wanna go check it out. (heh. the elusive meatball story people... heh!)

4. April 26th 2004 you competed in a bicycle race south of the city. We thought it'd be funny to loosen your bike seat... I'm sorry about the bruising, still.

5. Solstice Festival 2002, sun yellow leotard... wear underwear underneath that next time dork.

6. Red turtleneck draped across lampshade is there because you use it to warn your mother through the window that you're entertaining. It's so classy.

7. Bruce Lee's grave, you did the coniche wha! drunk on sake. MM was there and she spanked you, thus your love for punishment.

8. January 1st, year 2000... the party that started it all for real. You have to remember that, if anything that is where I first met Dr. K and that weird pavlovian thing occurred between the three of us. I think that truly the celebration wouldn't have been the same if you hadn't tried to piss in that bottle on the observation deck.

9. Charity AIDS Breakfast back in the early 02's a guy in leggings and a tank top that said "Spike's Meats" tried to make out with you for fun. I found his number in your pants pocket later while I was fishing out your keys.

10. "I think Starfucker has a bit of the lean to the bizarre, put a device in her way and watch her toothpick it to her advantage. Don't get me wrong, she's sweet as honey... but push her nubs and watch her tweak out like a herionhamster on hystemine.

I suppose I give her a lot of fuckshop on a regular basis, but the truth is I wouldn't ever want anybody else to have my back... or my front. "

EN: "Shawn, are you in love with me?"

"Hell no, I just want to fuck you... did that work? I figured all this time being nice is the only thing I haven't tried."

If none of those items work, reference your email... It will be like the twenty-hundredth one down in your email box.

And if you don't feel like doing that, perhaps this picture will be helpful to you in one way or another. I figure a good percentage of men derive the most memory from a visual aspect, it's the least I can do... I'm a giver.

Welcome back to your world good friend, good luck with your first day back at work.

Sure, we argue over stoopid shit like eggs.

So last night I'm laying in bed and I can't sleep. Nothing new for me except for feeling like I had too much tension and not enough release lately. My normal masturbatory/sexual habits have been stifled by pressure, stress, and responsibility.. the three biggest libido killers known to mankind and the only three things that can make mandatory masturbation a task instead of a healthy past-time.

Some of you know I was hugely absent from the blogosphere last week, and might be a bit into this week. My job required much attention and concentration on my part, so I had to try and stay focused. I worked 12 hour days, I worked through the weekends, I worked when I slept.

I'm never given as much responsibility as I was given at work last week. And though blogging can be a good way for me to be social when I work (since really I have no co-workers), I really felt like I had to prove something to my boss and myself.

I digress, last night...

My husband and I had worked in the yard all day. He was tired and ignoring my whims of sexual entertainment in exchange for sleep. Silly him. No matter though I didn't get pissy, I got i-egg like any sane woman would do given this situation.

A smart woman knows that if she gets out the vibrator while laying next to her partner in bed, one of two things will happen:

A) You'll get yourself off just like you wanted, only you'll know its good because it's you and you can't possible disappoint yourself.

B) He'll hear and feel you next to him writhing around and get excited thus exchanging his REM state for a little bam-bam.

I get out my bam-bam, close my eyes, and work that fucker til my knees got weak. Completely absorbed in the fascination of my vivid creative mind and the feeling of the vibrating orb against my clit, it was awesome.

Being in a place I hadn't really been in awhile it was no time before I brought myself to the brink of orgasm....

I could feel it, it was coming.. and I was, I was... oh my...

*BZZZT* -pause- *BZ..Bz...*
-silence-

I stop cold, my body twitching for completion, my chest heaving.. a bit perspirated and confused.

My i-egg halted mid orgasm... what the fuck?

WHAT A FUCKING SHITTY TIME TO STOP YOU DUMB MOTHER BASTARD!!! I calm myself and look frantically for my batteries. I hear my husband start to giggle from the other side of the bed:

"What's so fucking funny?" I asked, a little surprised since I thought he was asleep this whole time.
"I think it's great your batteries just died, hilarious even." he chortled at me without even rolling over to face me.

ASSHOLE.

So, I realize there's NO batteries in my night stand and throw a robe on to hustle out into the hallway for batteries. Grab my three AA's, trip on my son's fireman's helmet and fall into the door frame, thus allowing gravity to help me fall into the bedroom where my husband laughs at me once again.

"Fuck you!" I teased "I wouldn't be having any of this trouble if you'd just fucked me to begin with!"
"Don't get pissy with me!" He replied "You've got a whole fucking basket of toys next to the bed you can use instead of running to get your batteries!"

I sit on the bedroom floor, rubbing my head and cursing at my husband.... putting fresh batteries in my i-egg to finish my job, maybe fantasizing about grudge fucking my husband with a construction pylon while he's tied to a love swing upside down instead of my previous fantasy... eh.

Okay, and the new batteries? Don't work.
Take them out, check the positioning, try again... i-egg no workie.
Get another three batteries, try again... i-egg no workie.
Another three... nope... it's busted.

I realize that dammit, I think I overworked my vibrator and now it's broken. And I'm teetering somewhere between lala land and shitsville so my whole body is pissed and tingling at the same time.

Weird sensation, so much like S&M it's uncanny.

My husband laughs again. I withdraw the paddle from my basket and slap his naked ass with it. He doesn't think this is as cool as I do.

"You mean to tell me you broke your vibrator? AGAIN?"
"Everyone breaks vibrators dumbass."
"How many have you gone through in the last year though?"
"What does that tell you? Huh? Go to bed then."
"Yes, I think I'll do that... but you're not going to sit there on the floor and mourn your dead i-egg are you?"
"No. Not for long anyway."
"Pick something else from the basket, let's see if the next one dies."

Just to spite him, I did.
And it was LOUD.

"Holy shit that one's a screamer."
"Yeah, jesus I can't even concentrate it's so loud. It's like going from a Makita to a Black and Decker..."
*sigh* "Well, pretend it's an airplane and you're on the mile high club."

"Right. fuck you."

"You need my finger?"

"yes! can I have your dick after that?"

"Sure"

"Jesus it's sexy when you say sure"

Anyway, when all was said and done, I was a happy girl with my clitoral stimulation and my happy husband lending me some fingers and kisses... of course it was like a lease with an option to buy.. his dick... but I was convinced that if I woke him up enough that he'd put that missle resting against my thigh to some good use.

Can I just say that anyone could plainly see that I should have just jumped on that and rode it home, right? Well sure, with anybody elses husband maybe.... But not mine. He's athletic and selfish in the bedroom so if he's not up to par he will literally pick me up and set me somewhere else.

FLASH BACK: First time this ever happened we had just moved in together. It was our second night in the new place and since we moved furniture and fucked for 6 hours the first night, the second evening was critical for husband sleep time.

He was hard, I was anxious, I tried to take mine. He picked me up off of the top of him, got up still lifting me, and set me on the floor on the other side of the bedroom. Then he walked away and lied down back in bed, leaving me to sit and wonder what the hell that was all about.

It's happened at least 5 times since then. Every time he sets me farther away... I'm not about to be left in the living room naked and horny on a Sunday night. K?

But where were we? Oh yes, finger fucking and clitoral stimulation... right.
So 5 minutes later and I'm having one of the best orgasms I've had in a while... I turn to husband for thanks, kisses, and the rest of the bargain...

"....."
"Honey, honey... You can remove your fing-"
"....."
"Holy fuck, are you asleep?"


"Uhhh... honey?"

yup. he was snoring. motherbitch.

So I think that truly tonight before I go to sleep, I must find myself a worthy replacement via a visit to my toy store. I will most likely get another i-egg since I'm in love with the product...

But then I saw this advertised, It might be great to have for phone sex.

*shrug*

I just wish the display was color, and that it had downloadable ringtones, right now it only has the vibrate setting... though I would never complain about how many calls I was getting!

Umm, they need to work on their slogan for this product though, I find that unless it's a double sided dong there's no way this will be connecting people anytime soon.