Fame… it’s the name of the game

Hey! Guess what, people?

I got linked by Bloggers Blog. Exciting, huh?

Well, actually, the Corporal did.

Check it out here…

I almost feel famous… luvvies… mwah!

Fame… it’s the name of the game

Hey! Guess what, people?

I got linked by Bloggers Blog. Exciting, huh?

Well, actually, the Corporal did.

Check it out here…

I almost feel famous… luvvies… mwah!

Meme from the other husband

Not CH, DH!

I mean, i’m re-getting very fond of CH, don’t get me wrong. But DH has been a great blog friend, and the other day posted a very cool meme.

Which, naturally, i have pinched for here.

Since i am the Minx who walks by herself, i have altered it slightly (purists who wish to know what has been altered can always go visit DH and see it in its original form). I just thought it’d be more fun and more minx-appropriate this way.

Copy this entire list into your blog.
BOLD everything about you that is true.
Leave plain anything that is false about you.
Put an asterisk (*) at the end of false statements you would LIKE to be true.

Here goes…

I have had sex while wearing a blindfold.
I have blindfolded someone else during sex.
I have had sex while watching porn.
I have had sex while surfing porn on the Internet.
I sleep better after sex.
There are some nights I cannot sleep without sex or masturbating.
The bed is NOT my most favorite place to have sex.
I am turned on knowing someone is watching me masturbate.
I have masturbated for someone over a web cam.*
I have had sex over a web cam. *
I will have sex with someone I just met if they turn me on.
I have been tied up during sex.
I have had sex with someone who was tied up.
I have dripped wax onto a lover’s body.
I have had a lover drip wax onto my body.
I have a foot fetish.
I have a leather fetish.
I have a tickle fetish.
I like being choked during sex. (kinda… not choked, just enforced breath-holding)
I have had sex in a burning building.
I have erotic art on display somewhere in my residence.*
I enjoy nudie magazines.
Erotic toys are a regular part of my budget.*
I think PLAYBOY is tame, maybe even boring.
I have clicked on porn links in my email.
I know the difference between girl/girl and lesbian sex in porn.*
I have watched more than one gay/lesbian porn video. *
Much of what I know about sex comes from porn.
Interracial sex turns me on.
I think we should do more to understand the cultures of sex.
I would participate in sex research given the opportunity.
My current lover does not sufficiently meet my sexual needs.
I currently have a “crush” on someone of the same sex.
I have had sex at my place of employment.
I am often disappointed in my sexual relationships.
Some people might describe me as a nymphomaniac.
I am difficult to live with if I’m not having sex on a regular basis.
I sleep better with someone snuggled up next to me.
I have had sex under water.
I have had sex in the snow.*
I am in a polyamorous relationship.*
I have to have music playing while having sex.
I have had more than ten orgasms in one night.*
I have flashed strangers.
I have given sex as a gift.
I have set-up a three-way for my lover.*
I stopped during this list to have sex. (Admittedly, i did start writing my response to this meme yesterday, but i have had sex twice in between starting and finishing it. Cool, huh?)

Early morning profundity

Sometimes, we can be there for people and they appreciate it, and show their appreciation.

This, of course, is not the reason for our initial contribution. We only ever want to help. We don’t do it for reward. I mean, if we did, (a) it would be a pretty poor showing of reward, and (b) it wouldn’t make us very good friends. Or nice people come to that.

I had the chance to be there for a good blogfriend this week, and I was delighted to have the opportunity.

She wrote and thanked me. Bless her.

She also showed that she trusted and valued me enough to share certain details with me. And it felt really good.

And then the strange thing happened. I replied back to her letter of thanks, and from god-only-knows-where came all this deep and meaningful stuff.

I was quite impressed.

Especially as it was only 8.00 a.m. my time.

So I thought I’d share my profundity with y’all — probably because it’s stuff I would have written here eventually anyway:

Sweetie, I wouldn’t have [been there for you] if I didn’t mean [to be].

And you’re very welcome!

Seriously, you just have to focus on what you think, and what you feel, and what you believe. There will be people who don’t agree with you – that’s fine IMHO. But the moment it goes from “That’s not what *I* would do” to “You are bad because of what you’re doing”… that’s when it becomes judgmental, and that’s when you have to switch off and ignore.

That asshole who called your life a [horrible nasty thing, which if I were specific about here could compromise her identity], for example – who the fuck are they to have any influence over how you think? They don’t even have the balls to give a name or site where their own flaws can be read and exposed. These are the kind of people who mean nothing, and should be ignored. (Or should have been drowned at birth – your choice!)

I know you know all this already. This is just something that I thought you might like to keep for those low moments when all you can see are nasty words, and you need a hug. In fact, that’s it – think of this mail as a cyber hug.

As for me – it’s easy for me to be supportive because I COMPLETELY understand. I mean, when I first read [what you had written on] your site, I hollered “Girlfriend!”. It meant a very great deal to know that the love and passion and sexiness that I felt for the man who wasn’t my husband weren’t peculiar to me, that other people knew what I was going through. All my life I had been brought up to believe that anyone who “cheated” on their spouse was “bad”. No-one ever mentioned the myriad reasons why it might happen. No-one ever said that it was possible to fall out of love with the person whom once you’d felt would be your partner for ever and ever. No-one ever mentioned that the warmth and affection and love that we crave is a normal craving, and without it, we are practically obliged to seek it elsewhere.

Put it this way, it’s not a black-and-white situation, having an affair. And I think that you and I (as well as many others across this ever-shrinking globe of ours) know this now, understand this and ourselves far better, and are probably better people within ourselves for it.

Your personal journey, that you have recorded so eloquently, has been awe-inspiring to say the least. You should be very proud of yourself, and not give a flying crap what these judgmental idiots think. Give a flying crap what I think, though, by all means!!!

All love, Minxxx

Pussy

Just a note from The Corporal…

Now that I have your attention… Because we all know that the way to get anyone’s attention, is to flash some genitalia. Or, just a lazy fat bastard of a cat.

Anyway, I was invited to post over at LingLing’s, so I left a bomb over there. I got lots of invitations from people who were generous enough to want to host my crap. So, I’ll be bouncing around. The good news is that there’s only 16 days left in the ban.

From now on, when you go to Curbed Enthusiasm, you can find my newest post simply by clicking on the “Banned” image that is currently counting down the days until I can go back. The picture is a link! How goddamn crazy is that!?

I’ll be back to play with the Minx, but, I’ve got places to post and people to piss off.

Insomnia, backache and a coughing minxette

The above title is the reason that this post is being written.

Put it this way, it is hideous a.m. where I am, also known as the middle of the night. It’s a bit bloody much, quite frankly. But hey, what’s a Minx to do?

I mean, insomnia. Doncha just LOVE it? Ha. Not. I have suffered bouts of insomnia for years and years, since I were naught but a Minxette myself. Normally it’s not so bad, but if I am woken from a sleep, it will always take me at least 2 hours to feel sleepy again.

Which is a major pisser, especially at this time of night.

The Minxette has a cold, poor little thing. Which means she coughs and sniffles all night. And tonight she managed to cough herself awake, which led to howling, which then led to her mother braving the ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night (generally the young Manx’s power ranger motorcycle toy under my unslippered and delicate foot, grrrr) and getting up to comfort her.

Hey, I’m not *entirely* evil you know. Not 24*7 anyway…

To digress for a moment – funny thing. I ran into my cousin (with whom I’d recently visited, with the whole clan in tow — hey, she has a garden/back yard, and we live in an apartment, so it had to be done) when I was visiting the stiffs the other day.

(Stiffs: vernacular, North of England, slang and slightly derogatory term for one’s parents, circa 1988)

She watched the trolls as they gambolled merrily, running around and playing at a speed and frequency that nearly made my ears bleed, and smiled fondly.

“She’s such a cutie that one,” she said, indicating the young Minxette (young Manx having disappeared in search of adults with chocolate and an indulgent nature — he found one too! but I digress. Again.) “I wrote your Dad an email about what a little minx she was. That’s what I call her in my head, “the Minx”…”

Laugh? I nearly shat. How singularly appropriate. And how perceptive of my cousin.

Mind you, it doesn’t surprise me. She and I have always been in tune on that kind of level, and as cousins go, she’s the best.

I didn’t mention anything about my Minxion identity — anonymity here protects the innocent as well as myself — but I thought it was utterly hilarious, and worth sharing with y’all.

Back to the original story. I comfort the young Minxette, trying with all my many (ha!) powers to get some cough mixture down her (“drink, child, goddammit!”), and fail fairly dismally. i can tell by the head-shaking, ostentatiously closed mouth, and evil – and yes! minxy – glint of rebellion ever-present in her eye. I lift her onto the kitchen counter and feel my lower back wince in pain that would signal a week of horizontal, spasming Minx (and not in a good way) if that hadn’t already happened 10 days ago. Fortunately my body is still enjoying the after-effects of the pain medication that I ingested over said time period, so it’s only a small ache and nothing crippling. This time. But it was enough to trigger the insomnia… I just couldn’t get comfortable again.

What a pisser.

Still, you got a post out of me, so don’t complain. Share my woes and laugh with me.

Fuck it, if you don’t laugh, you cry.

Be well, y’all. Sleep tight.

Minxxxxxxx

For Sam…

Sam was a very good friend of mine, many many years ago when I was but a Minxette.

I met him at university, we were both involved in the student theatre stuff.

Sam was brilliant. Brilliant as in a brain I could only envy. So clever. So intelligent. Maybe too intelligent. He could never quite get to grips with the world around him. He could never really understand how things were *supposed* to happen, could never fall into step with the rest of the planet. At least, that was how he felt.

He was bisexual, but couldn’t accept it. The world was very different back then. Being gay or bi was fine within the confines of the right circles at university, but where Sam came from it certainly wasn’t, and this had influenced him to a very large degree. He was still very young, and very immature, and just couldn’t tally this with the view of the world with which he had been brought up.

Sam was incessantly pursued by a persistent and aggressive gay man who was oblivious to the fact that the pressure he heaped upon Sam terrified him. Terrified him far more than it convinced him of his homosexual tendencies.

13 years ago, Sam committed suicide. It was his second attempt.

I loved him. He was a very good friend and one-time lover. I miss him still. This is for him.

Thank you for the days,
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.

I’m thinking of the days,
I won’t forget a single day, believe me.

I bless the light,
I bless the light that lights on you believe me.
And though you’re gone,
You’re with me every single day, believe me.

Days I’ll remember all my life,
Days when you can’t see wrong from right.

You took my life,
But then I knew that very soon you’d leave me,
But it’s all right,
Now I’m not frightened of this world, believe me.

I wish today could be tomorrow,
The night is dark,
It just brings sorrow anyway.

Thank you for the days,
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I’m thinking of the days,
I won’t forget a single day, believe me.

Days I’ll remember all my life,
Days when you can’t see wrong from right.
You took my life,
But then I knew that very soon you’d leave me,
But it’s all right,
Now I’m not frightened of this world, believe me.

Days.
Thank you for the days,
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I’m thinking of the days, I won’t forget a single day, believe me.

I bless the light,
I bless the light that shines on you believe me.
And though you’re gone,
You’re with me every single day, believe me.

© The Kinks

Vacation from the holidays

Hello,

Outwardly you see before you your Minx, as you know her. Calm, cool, collected, blonde and sexy. Winking seductively and blowing you kisses.

On the inside — or what you don’t see — is the frustrated and exhausted shell of a woman who has just HAD IT with home lives.

Of any shape or size.

Thank god I’m getting out of here soon.

At this rate, I may just go postal while I’m in the UK and disappear. Leave my former life hanging in the balance. Search for some *inner peace* to soothe my soul.

I see the collective aghast and taken aback expressions on your faces.

“Er…. b-b-but… you… wha… whi… wh….”

By which you mean, clearly: What the fuck?

The emotional rollercoaster that is my life is spinning dangerously out of control. And you wanna know something funny? Writing here is the only release I have.

Seriously.

Woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

If my myriad emotional issues weren’t enough to be going on with – and god knows they are – there’s also the issue of the holidays. This month, here, is national holiday month. Ample time to be stuck at home with both trolls and CH, being driven insane. Parents arrived from o/s two days ago, just to add insult to injury. I love them but whenever they’re here, CH reverts Jekyll and Hyde-like, back to how he was before.

I have days that go by when I wonder to myself “what the fuck are you doing?”. Then other days are just idyllic. And other times I don’t know who I am any more.

I promised myself that I’d really give thyis reconciliation attempt a good go, and while I can’t put a time limit on that, I gave it a minimum of a year. I’ll give it that year. If I last that long. Oy…

I just have to remember that nothing is written in stone. I have committed to trying again, but I can’t commit to succeed. If I’m unhappy then I have to be the one who changes things.

No-one else can or will.

Sorry… This wallet is closed.

[Something Uncharacteristically Serious, and Non-Humourous]

If I get one more flyer, email, or person at my door wanting me to “open my heart” (by opening my wallet), I’ll puke. My heart, and my wallet are closed.

Seriously.

I understand that people need help. The earthquake, the hurricanes, the tsunami, the diarrhea – whatever the hell the problem is – I’m can’t give any more. I’m “disastered out”. There are posters in the bank, the mall, the post office. Fuck, there was even a poster in the bathroom of the doctor’s office. Give, Give, Give, Give.

When I paid for gas this morning, the guy at the counter asked if I wanted to donate my change to the earthquake relief.

[ME] Donate my change to what?
[HIM] The earthquake relief, for the earthquake in Pakistan.
[ME] My change is $25.00.
[HIM] Yeah, you could donate it to the earthquake fund. Or, even just a part of it.
[ME] No. I think I’m going to donate to the ME fund today. The government is sending $20 million anyway.

Then, he just gives me this look, like I’m some kind of heartless bastard. I’m not a heartless bastard – I’m just tired of sending money, or giving money to people who come banging on my door – or being harrassed everytime I go to buy something, and they ask me to donate more.

The $20 million that Canada is sending pretty much came out of my pocket anyway. Well, mine and everyone else’s. Couldn’t that $20 million be put to better use? It will make me sound like a prick, but – I can think of plenty of things they could do with $20 million – right here at home.

Winter is fast approaching. There is usually snow on the ground by Halloween, and if what those fucks at The Weather Network are saying, it’s going to be a long one. Anyone who lives in Ontario knows that temperatures often hover at -20 to -25 for the majority of the season. It’s hard to keep warm.

So, imagine how hard it is for families who have no way to pay for their heating fuel this winter. Or, what about the kids whose parents can’t afford snow suits, mittens or toques? Or worse, the people who live on the streets? People here are going to die this winter. Why send my money overseas?

The City of Toronto has trouble keeping shelters open. There never seems to be enough money to make sure that the homeless are taken care of. That they are warm and safe, out of the cold. And, every day, some poor homeless bastard has to be pried off the metal grate that his body has frozen to. Or, he has to be chiseled out of a snowdrift. Even worse than those that have died, are the ones whose hands or feet have frozen solid. Kids too. This happens here. In my country. Why send my money overseas?

There are kids with empty bellies, and mothers who can’t afford formula for their newborns. Dental work, prescription drugs, glasses, clothes. Needed here. And, if it wasn’t for the generosity of people here, they would have to do without. Our government doesn’t give two shits about the young, the homeless, or the hungry here at home, yet they send $20 million dollars overseas. I know that the earthquake killed nearly 30,000 people. But, they are dead. $20 million dollars won’t bring them back. That $20 million could build or fund a shelter or two, and there’d still be money left over to help Canadian families in need. Not by giving them a cheque – but by making sure they have what they need.

Donating money does nothing, because the first thing that happens, is some kind of bullshit “administrative fee” is taken off the top, and put neatly into some asswipe’s pocket. That $25 that I didn’t give to the guy at the gas station? I bought the guy sleeping on Front Street a sandwich and a hot coffee. And, when it gets colder, we’ll donate boots and a snowsuit or two to the Adopt-A-Child program. My wife and I will shop for food to donate to the food bank, and our kids will donate some of their toys. Like we do every year.

Pakistan is not a priority for me. And, neither will be the next country hit by disaster. The money that I save by not donating, can be used here. Helping to feed the people who live in the community where I live and work.

Call me a heartless bastard, but charity begins at home.

A Minx After My… Um… Heart

Before I start posting here regularly, I just wanted to pop in here and say a couple of little things.

The Minx has been an inspiration. Not just in life, but in spirit. A Queen. A mother. A Hero. A beautiful friend. She’s been through a lot of crap, and rose through it all. (I suppose if you lazy bastards read the banner, you’d know that already.)

In spite of everything she has going on, she still finds the time to be there for her friends. For support, a shoulder to cry on, and sometimes, even to pass you a Kleenex when you are crying so hard that a little booger is trying to drip out of your nose.

You HAVE to love a woman like that. I figured I’d married the only woman in the world who could be so caring and so damn special. But then, I met the Minx. And, she runs a very close second to Mrs. Kickyourass. (Mustn’t forget her, lest my ass be kicked.)

I Love You Minx. In fact, everyone who comes here loves you. (Or, they better…)

It is my absolute honour to have the privilege of posting here. So, readers of Curbed Enthusiasm, sit back and get your dose of anxiety and rage. Then, flip through the pages of Minxdom for romance, heartbreak, betrayal, and beauty.

(I can’t believe I just said all those mushy things. But, when you’re talking about The Minx, not much else comes to mind.) (Well, some impure thoughts. But, we won’t talk about those just now.)