Archive for November, 2005

A departure from my norm…

Posted in minx with tags on November 30, 2005 by evilminx

And I don’t mean Norm as in Norman. I mean ther (Copyright A. A. Milne) norm.

Well life is slowly but surely returning to its everyday pattern. CH and I are still in the throes of working shit out, and dealing with everything else in our hectic day-to-day lives. G and I are communicating as close friends. He happens to be on a business trip in a country not too far away from me this week, and for one insane hour it looked like I was going to be traveling to the same place for the same business-fuelled purpose. But no.

Don’t know whether to laugh or cry about that one.

I’m now off the Cloud of Sexual Fantasy (don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t last), brought back to earth with a bump by the devaluation of the TTLB ecosystem which has catapulted me back down from being a measly Slithering Reptile to an even more freakin’ measly Wiggly Worm.


And curse my need to be popular.

Oh well, shit happens. You might think that if I really wanted to, I’d do all the funky things that the Corporal and Crazy make the time to do, like Battle of the Blogs and BlogExplosion and what-have-you. Except, of course, I’m not *allowed* to play on BlogExplosion, or rent my blog or space to another much-deserving blog, because of “explicit sexual content” on this blog. Oh please. I write two fantasies in 6 months, and they get all puritanical on me. What a pile of steaming horse manure. Like the faces behind the code don’t troll the web for a literary piece of ass every once in a while. Ha!

Well fuck ’em and feed ’em to the fish. It’s their loss.

And it’s not just BlogExplosion. I could name and shame a bunch of lists and communities who are so fucking far up themselves that they wouldn’t know good writing if it jumped up and bit them on the balls.

And the funny thing is that the intelligent places (like Jane’s Guide) who might recommend my blog, ignore me because there’s not enough sexual content.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here i am, stuck in the middle…

Hey, I have other shit going on. I can’t do fantasy and perviness 24*7. Sue me, what are you gonna do?

Sometimes, a cup of tea is the preferred option. It just is.

But I digress….

Like Minerva and Jeff, I could always play the blog stock market.

If I wasn’t discalculic, that is.

Yes! I have finally discovered that there is a reason why it is that my head swims whenever numbers or deeply technical issues are explained to me. I am by no means stupid, in fact I’m a highly intelligent human being. But I just don’t get numbers, never have. And never knew why. Until a friend (a special needs teacher of many years experience) suggested that discalculia (like dyslexia, except pertaining to numbers and sometimes high-level technical information) could well be the reason.

So if anyone has any ideas I could use on self-promotion from non-puritanical and blinkered blog communities, please let me know. This isn’t high school, and I do control my destiny.

Normal services will be resumed shortly.



UPDATED: Thursday December 01
I’m now a Crunchy Crustacean. Link to me people! You know I’ll make it worth your while…!


Alone in a strange room…

Posted in minx with tags on November 28, 2005 by evilminx

The past few days have gone by in a flurry of activity and organisation. You’re exhausted, yet you can’t sleep. Your mind is whirling – millions of insignificant yet strangely memorable details spinning around your head. You need to calm down, relax, chill out… but you don’t know how.

But I do.

I know you don’t normally sleep well in hotels, but I promise you that tonight, after this, you’ll have no trouble whatsoever. Lay back on the bed, and put all thoughts of work out of your head. Get comfortable, maybe remove some of your more restrictive items of clothing… i.e. all of them…

Now close your eyes.

I’m there next to you, and I begin to slowly run one finger up and down your arm. Just to let you know I’m there. I don’t want you fainting from the shock. Keep your eyes closed. You’ll enjoy this part more if it’s a mystery.

My fingernails trails softly down your arm and continue onto your leg — first one, and then the other. It’s giving you goosebumps, but in a very exciting way. The trail continues up your inner calf, and then your inner thigh, and back down the thigh and calf of the opposite leg. This is only the beginning, baby, think of this as an aperitif.

The next time the trail reaches the top of your thigh, my nails graze your balls… so soft and warm and tender. The touch makes them rise slightly, and your cock stiffens more than it has already, indicating your interest in the proceedings. A pleased sigh escapes my lips… I can’t help it, I love to pleasure you, and now I know I’m having the desired effect.

Still only using my hands, I turn my attention to the soft, shaven skin around your cock and balls, stroking so, so gently, placing tiny amounts of pressure in the places that most cry out for it, until the pre-cum starts to flow, and I lick my lips in anticipation.

I bend towards you, my tongue out and ready to lap it up and I softly lick the head, encircling the rim with my lips and teeth, gently grazing, not to hurt, you understand. Rather to tease and tantalize. And I know I’m being successful from your reactions, and the desire and pleasure on your face.

And I know you love it from the sigh that escapes your lips.

“Oh god, yes, baby… ohhhh…”

At this point, I remove my mouth from your very hard cock, and trail it up your body, over your chest, up your neck until I reach your lips and brush them softly with mine. You respond with passion, and I kiss you back… until I remove my lips from yours and move them back down your body.

This time I don’t go as far down as I was before. I stop at your nipples, and begin to tongue and caress them, biting them softly but firmly, licking them as they harden in my mouth, nuzzling them and the area around them as your moans of delight grow more audible.

While occupied with this, the lower half of my body moves into action. I straddle you, and bring my hips up over yours, gently swaying lower and lower until the tip of your cock grazes the soft wetness between my thighs. Slowly I move to and fro, letting your head glide across the slit of my cunt, feeling how warm and wet and inviting I am, but not remaining still long enough for you to enter me. You gasp with pleasure and I bite your nipples again one more time, before I stop swaying my hips and allow you to slide all the way into me, my lips landing on yours and kissing you passionately as I do.

You come back to life all at once, as the warmth of me around you stimulates you into action. We move together as one, the muscles within me squeezing and massaging you, the friction driving you wild and only increasing your desire. Together we each complete the other, we become one, we meld… we move faster and faster, the passion and feeling intensifying as we spiral upwards into bliss and then explode simultaneously in a rush of orgasm and joy.

You finally open your eyes and I can see how happy I’ve made you. You are ecstatic and breathless, satisfied and fulfilled.

You close your eyes again momentarily, only to open them and see that I’m no longer there. You are alone in the room, and there is no-one with you.

Was I a dream, or just your perfect fantasy? Will you ever know for sure?

Sleep well.

9 million bicycles revisited

Posted in minx with tags on November 21, 2005 by evilminx

As some of you may have noticed, but are naturally far too polite and well-bred to have mentioned, when I write from my heart the results are far better. When I write because I’m in pain and the only thing of which I am mentally or physically capable of doing is writing, even more so than usual.

How bizarre that something so painful and yet cathartic can also be so artistically pleasing. Is it inappropriate? Who knows? Hell, who cares? I don’t think so, but you know what? You make up your own mind.

The other night, as I cried and wept and grieved for what might have been with G, I found myself writing a poem in my head. Distraught as I was, I managed to get it together enough to find pen and paper, and I wrote it down. This was how I felt then, that raw, searing pain that forces you to sob and wail aloud as you shiver and shake uncontrollably…

Nine million bicycles run through my head
Silently screaming I sit on my bed
The pain that rips through me cuts deep to my core
For I know that our paths will not cross any more
Alone and distraught as I weep bitter tears
How can I live all the rest of my years
No-one ever *got* me the way that you do
No touch can compare to when I’m touched by you
I don’t understand how I’m meant to go on
And I can’t stand the sound of her singing our song

Anyway, this is just to let you know that I’m healing. Slowly, but surely.

I spoke to G earlier. He’s going through — has gone through, actually, since he’s a bloke and therefore far more pragmatic than I — very, very similar feelings.

He still loves me.

He still thinks of me much of the time.

He and I both know that as an item, we have no future. On this point we are clear.

Despite this, the love between us still exists. And therefore, as “us”, we’ll always be unfinished business. The feelings will always be there, and we will never be out of each others lives, try as we might. Even if we decided to cut all contact, we’d exist in each others hearts and minds so strongly that it would be a completely ineffective and useless decision.

He profusely and contritely apologized for the distancing he put between us over the last few months, and has promised to make amends. I know why he did it, and to be honest, it was partly a help when re-starting things with CH. But from now on, he has assured me that he will no longer distance himself from me.

And he will keep his word. I know he will. I knew that we had to meet as there were events and issues that had been hanging over us for months. Now those are dealt with and out of the way, I can think and see clearly again. I am still committed to getting my marriage back on track, and trying hard to make it work. And with G as my friend — a real friend who cares for me deeply — it will be a lot easier now I know where he and I stand.

It was all a question of getting things back in proportion. I may well write again about G, and my love for him, but the difference now is that our love no longer has the effect on my future that it once did. Which is how it should be.

And if you don’t understand why this post is called 9 million bicycles revisited, go here, and all will be revealed.

It’s our song, you see.

And I’m glad to say that I can now hear that song (or at least, i would hear it, if i had a copy… thud, clang… like the one I was promised… nudge, nudge… yes, i’m talking to you!), despite what my poem above says to the contrary. It still brings a tear to my eye, because such a sentiment is rarely expressed in reality. I can cope with said tear… because the balance has been restored to my life. Which is all any of us can really hope for, don’t you think?

And did I mention that the feeling is mutual? I know in my heart, regardless of how events in either my or his life unfold, that he will always be my true love, my soulmate, and the husband I never had. Although I must now return to concentrate on the husband I do have. Which I am sincerely trying to do.

There are nine million bicycles in Beijing
That’s a fact,
It’s a thing we can’t deny
Like the fact that I will love you till I die…


The angst is back…

Posted in minx with tags on November 19, 2005 by evilminx

What can I tell you, people? Angst has returned to make yet another impact on my life. What a fucking chutzpah.

I am — slowly, to my distaste — coming to terms with the finality of me and G. Or maybe I should call it the finality of “not-me-and-G-any-more“. ‘Never’ is a very scary word, and an even scarier concept. Being an impatient Minx — and you all know I am — coping with waiting for things to happen is not my strongpoint. So how on earth am I supposed to get past this feeling of irreplaceable loss? Can I ever get past it? Do I really want to?

Truth be told, the part of the equation that I can understand is that G and I will never be the husband and wife that we wanted to be. At least, not to each other. That was a knife-through-the-gut realization, I can tell you. And this was weeks ago, I had just conveniently put the incident out of my mind. I was watching something daft on TV, which involved a wedding ceremony in a Registry Office. All of a sudden, the faces of the actors were transposed with G’s face and mine and I felt a stab of pain in my heart, so intense and fierce that I wondered whether there might actually be something medically wrong.

“That should have been us,” I remember thinking. “That was going to be us. G promising to love and cherish me until death parted us. Me promising to love and cherish G until death parted us. Oy…”

It still hurts, although currently that’s probably because of my recent re-opening of the old wounds. My request for you not to chastise me in my previous post was because of this, really. The fact that I knowingly and intentionally met with G, put myself in a situation where I could have made love with him again — there are those who would judge me for this and call me foolish. And to a certain extent, they might even be right. A part of me even feels that way (that asshole sitting on my shoulder probably put it up to it).

However, the reality is that I lived a significant part of my adult life in denial. And now, when I notice the warning signs that I’m doing it again, I make every effort to nip it in the bud. I knew that since I’d made the decision to try things again with CH, I had blocked G from my mind. It was easier than you’d expect, actually. At the time, I’d been extremely patient (yes, I know! amazing!) and made a huge point of giving him space as he was going through a very tough time, and needed me to not crowd him. I had complied with all instructions and requests, and yet I still got shat upon. To put it mildly, I wasn’t feeling very G-inclined at all. There was CH, trying so hard to prove to me how much he had changed, and how he only wanted to make me happy, and how he in no way wanted our marriage to end. And there was G, ignoring me, making no effort to contact me, leaving me out there on my own with no emotional support (physical support being a physical impossibility). As I said, I’m an impatient person. That means that invariably I will assess the situation in terms of its current make-up more than on an historical basis. At the time, it was easy to make the choice.

I’m not saying that it was the wrong choice to make. On so many levels, it was the correct, moral, logical and sensible choice.

It was just made in haste without me working through the reality.

Which is where you find me now. Post-partum, if you like. I have to rationalize and deal with the broken hopes, dreams and heart with which this situation has left me.

As a good friend said to me, at least how I feel today is the worst I will feel. Tomorrow will be marginally better. And so will the next day, and the day after that. Eventually, she surmised, I’d be able to look back at the love that G and I shared fondly, with only a bittersweet memory.

I have to be honest with you, it will be a very very very long time before that day comes. The way I currently feel, there is more likelihood of peace happening in the Middle East and a cure for AIDS being developed.

Just so you understand the scale of things.

I love him. I ache for him. Every fibre of my being is screaming for him. It’s not that I can’t be with him permanently. It’s that I can’t be with him ever. Both of us are highly aware that if we are in the same vicinity, it’s a very short matter of time before we are in each others arms.

And I just cannot bear the thought that it will never happen again.

I could cope with anything, renew my marriage, raise my children, be the perfect working wife and mother, if I knew that I’d be able to sneak away once in a while for a forbidden cuddle.

But I can’t even have that. Of the two of us the other night, he was the strong one, he was the one who kept reminding me of the boundaries to which we had to stick. I was the Evil, wanton, voluptuous and sexy Minx of old. That Circean creature that I become when i’m with him. Just being with him transforms me, it always has. Where is that creature supposed to live now? Or should i just bury her forever? And would life be worth living without her?

How do I do it, people? How do I gain that level of acceptance? How do I achieve that inner peace? My heart is broken, and part of my soul has died. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I just don’t. Nor how. Nor if i can.

Or should I just succumb to the madness, put my sexy lingerie on my head, stuff two pencils up my nose and say ‘wibble’?

Yes, even amidst all the angst, my sense of humour remains in tact. I use it as a defence mechanism; I always have.

Seriously, though. The night before last, when I was really in the depths of this despair, I sat on my bed and silently screamed with pain. I wailed, I keened, I howled. The sounds were almost animal-like in their intensity. I’m merely attempting to demonstrate to you how low I am.

And I have to go home tomorrow. I have only another 36 hours where I can express my true feelings, and then I have to re-don the mask and shift my focus back onto the reality of my life.

While deep down in the core of my soul, I deal with this damned angst.

As always, your minxxxxxx, but very very depressed.

And so it ends…

Posted in minx with tags on November 18, 2005 by evilminx

You know about whom I haven’t posted in a while? G. You know why? We haven’t been in touch much. It hadn’t been my highest priority, to be honest. There I was, concentrating intently on making my marriage work again — something that, despite what you may surmise about the contents of this post, I am still trying to do, and that is still a very high priority.

Of course, another reason that we hadn’t been in touch much is that he had been busy, not to mention on holiday for a week. Nor forgetting that age old reason – he’s a man and therefore genetically crap.

I don’t recall if I have spoken about the new relationship that exists between myself and G, post-rekindling of marriage situation. We both knew that the time had come when we could no longer deny the inevitable: that our love was not to be, despite all our wishes and hopes to the contrary. I owed it to myself, my children and my husband to make a go of my marriage, since CH (which stands for Current Husband, lest you forget) had made such an astounding effort to change in order to save our marriage.

To be quite frank, I was actually amazed at his change of heart and attitude. I sincerely believed that when presented with the opportunity to end what I thought was a dead marriage, he’d grasp it with both hands, and probably several other appendages. I truly thought that (a) he didn’t want to be married any more, and (b) that he couldn’t be the husband I needed or wanted. How wrong I turned out to be.

So it was with this in mind that I made the very difficult decision to cut G loose from my life. I knew I still loved him and that I probably always would. I have never loved CH in the way I do G, but unfortunately the harsh reality of life is that love does not conquer all. If you take my marital setting out of the equation, the reasons why it would never be right with G are:

– One of us would have to sacrifice the happiness of our children in some way in order for us to be together – by either moving countries, or leaving the children, or the children leaving their father – any of the above are possible outcomes.

– G would by necessity be more restricted in his self-expression as a cross-dresser, because of the tender age of my children. This would be self-imposed, as he believes that such forms of self-expression are inappropriate in front of non-adults. However, he would be denying his own freedom of expression, which would mean he would be effectively pushing himself back in the closet. Only a little way, I grant you, but still. This was not acceptable to me. I could not have borne the guilt.

– G’s parents are older, and he is an only child. He would have been deserting them at the latest stage in their lives. He wasn’t happy about doing this, but was prepared to. I, however, could not have that on my conscience.

Anyway, the decisions were taken, and the actions performed. We were both fairly distraught about it, but over time, and by shifting our respective focuses (sp, focii? or is that bread?) our wounds began to heal – at least peremptorily – and we got on with our lives.

I had booked for this trip within days of hearing about Minerva’s condition, absolutely distraught at the news, and determined to do whatever I could do as her friend to help her feel better. The irony of the plan was that in order for me to get the time off work, I had to guarantee that I’d do a couple of days work in the UK office. So I arranged that I would do so. Those of you with sharper memories will remember that G and I work for the same company. We arranged that we’d meet up, and that he would stay over near work, and I’d stay with him. At the time it seemed like a good idea. We were both still very hot for each other, openly so (to each other) despite our respective partners, and the thought of a final night of seriously hot loving appealed to both of us, immensely.

Then G made good on his promise that his wife (to whom I shall refer as BQ) would know that we were friends. As far as she was concerned, all contact had been severed way back when, immediately after TITW. We never reunited, never rediscovered our love, never made love to each other via the web and the phone, never met up when I was in the UK during the summer, never made sweet love in a horrible hotel room, and in the wilds of Bletchley Park, and everywhere else we could… When we first decided to call it off (a decision that didn’t last, needless to say. In fact his exact words were “I can’t give you up, babe, I just can’t”) I told him that if he wanted to have any kind of friendship with me, he had to inform BQ of my re-existence in his life — albeit as a friend and nothing more. He agreed, and we discussed methods and strategy of how and when to do this.

This actually only happened once we had finally split, two months later, when I reminded G of my promise to sever all ties with him unless he did this. The eventual aim is that he and I can have an open friendship with her knowing. I wasn’t naive enough to imagine that the BQ would automatically give her blessing to such a union, but I was hopeful. Anyway, he did tell her. He stressed that we had to work together (‘s true. We do) and that it was prudent that he maintain a good relationship with me. He also told her that he felt terrible about how things had “ended”, and how he wanted to make things right since I was one of the very few friends he still had, and the first person ever to voluntarily guess his transvestitism and be so comfortable with it, and how he felt secure with me and missed my friendship dreadfully.

The result was mixed. She agreed that he could contact me, via work email, but she insisted on perusing all our correspondence. She made it clear that his speaking to me over the phone was not acceptable to her, nor text messaging or anything similar. Naturally, she doesn’t know of the *other* email account he uses to communicate with me, so the deception continues. However, G was upset at causing her not to trust him, and couldn’t quite reconcile that with himself, so he told me that for the time being he’d rather I didn’t text him, or call. And I accepted this as a natural progression, and complied with his wishes, showing him, once again, that I can respect his requests of me. This tied in nicely with my reconciliation with CH, and it has only been friendship and nothing more since then. Mutually. No cybernookie, no pervy fantasy emails, no longing silences and deep sighs over the phone… Nothing.

By and large, it’s ok. Except, of course, when he doesn’t keep his end of the bargain. Doesn’t make the effort to invest in our friendship — fuck “I can’t give you up” and all that shit — doesn’t bother. Leaves all the running to me. Which, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, was exactly what he did recently. I was fed up. I had to confront him. And the only way to deal with that kind of mess with G is to talk to him face-to-face.

So I kept the appointment for us to stay the night together. I knew that he — like me — would be in two minds as to whether to go through with it. We had both reached a stage where we knew that while the attraction was still as strong as it ever was, there would also be guilt and remorse at the betrayal of our partners. So we spent two days together, working and talking. And that night we talked and joked and laughed and cried and reminisced. And I recriminated, and he apologized. And I insisted on his commitment to our friendship, and he was contrite.

And we hugged each other, and held each other close, and thought about what we’d had and how we could no longer have that, for all the right reasons. And we struggled with our deepest innermost feelings of the passionate love for each other that we both now have to bury.

And we didn’t make love.

It nearly killed me, I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But we set ourselves boundaries and stuck to them. We both wanted to, both still feel as attracted to the other as we ever did. But it would have been wrong of us. After reaffirming our commitment to our respective spouses (spice, surely?), we were obliged to keep that commitment. I knew this, and so did he. We both wanted more, but we contented ourselves with warm and loving hugs and cuddles (and plenty of them), and left it at that.

It was only when we parted company this afternoon that it finally sunk in.

As I write, I am weeping aloud as I attempt to assimilate the fact that I will never again be able to be together with him in the same room. I will never be able to hug him again so freely (unless BQ changes the way she is — not likely, huh?) . I will never kiss his soft sweet lips in the same way, I will never stroke the soft skin of his cheek, nor run my fingers through his glorious hair.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I made the right decision for all concerned, myself especially, to return to CH and make a real effort to rekindle and renew my marriage.

But my heart is still raw and bruised and bleeding over losing the one person whom I loved more than any other…

Don’t chastise me for my feelings. Just understand me.


Newsflash…es (plural)

Posted in minx with tags on November 9, 2005 by evilminx

Hey guys.

OK, it looks like moderation is back from its temporary exile. Fuck alone knows what happened there. How utterly bizarre.

Or, in the case of blogger, how utterly predictable. You choose.

Anyway, your Minx is taking off for about 10 days. I’m off to Blighty to (amongst other things) visit young Minerva and bring her lots of Minxy cheer. I won’t be able to be online as much as I would like, but I will make every effort to post while I’m gone.

But if I don’t, be nice, and keep visiting, my stat counter thrives on you…

While I’m away, I will be lurking and visiting y’all. And the lovely Lingling will be moderating my comments while my onlineness is so sporadic. So spammers, beware! You have been warned. She’ll send you away with a flea in your ear, and a boot up your ass.

Secondly, someone found my blog by searching for the phrase “Lick my pink vulva”. I’m speechless. I mean, it’s a good thing, I guess. But, I mean… Of all phrases. Honestly!

Thirdly – since while I’m away the Blog Thunderdome Judgment ban on the Corporal’s blog will be lifted, I am releasing the Corporal from his Minxiness. Much like an oversized and very bitey bunny, see him run off into the wild woods.

He has been a welcome and very well-behaved visitor, from his tidiness, to his cleanliness, to his adorable and highly pervy comments on the blog. We love him loads, and will have him anytime. Back, that is. Back here. To visit, to post, to cosy on up to the Minx – basically, he’s pretty much welcome to do whatever he wants…

So I’ll be seeing y’all soon. Take care, be well.

Always your


Apropos of nothing…

Posted in minx with tags on November 7, 2005 by evilminx

And the topics for today, people are….

(drum roll)

Word Verification and Ball Shaving.

Now, you may think that these two have nothing to do with each other. On the face of things, they don’t. But in reality… they still don’t but I wanted to post about them both and I didn’t really have enough on either to pad them out into full, standalone, don’t-need-no-other-subject posts.

So suck it up, and let’s get to it.

Blogger, bless ’em, have finally come up with an alternative to word verification. I am now moderating my comments. This means that if you comment and you’re not a blogger member, I get to moderate your comment and decide whether to post it or not.

Being a fan of debate, and just itching for some obnoxious asshole to pick a fight with me (I bitchslapped someone into a small pathetic pile of pigeon poo on my other blog the other day, and it felt goooooood), I hereby promise not to delete any controversial comments.

I will, however, not allow spam top be posted on my blog.

Hey, I have standards, you know. They may not be as high as certain PITA freakish (often but not always godsquad) bloggers, but they’re mine and I consider them sacrosanct.

OK, onto topic # 2.

Just wanted to let y’all know that CH, as part of his ongoing effort to rekindle our relationship, and bring it back to where it should have been all these years, voluntarily shaved his balls.

Now I realise that for the more broadminded among you, this may not seem like that big of a deal. (She said grammatically.) However, you have to understand that one of the biggest issues that I had with CH was the fact that not only had we not been having the sex, I’d also felt completely repressed and stunted with him. Yes, stunted. And nothing is worse than a stunted Minx. (Well, nearly nothing.)

Anyway, that was the whole beauty of being with G. If you take away the indecision, the physical difficulties (being on two separate continents is what I’m talking about here), the pain and humiliation that I went through over and over again while he *made up his mind*, the love that existed between us was very real and very deep. Even more real and more deep was the passion, the physical compatibility, the literal bolt of electric lightning that passed between us when any part of his body touched any part of mine. I mean, I know I’m not alone in feeling this. Her Fabulousness understands this. So does the almighty and inspiring O. And many others (please forgive me if I have not mentioned you and I should have. I’m a bit wazzed, and my memory isn’t the best even when I’m sober.) Being with G enabled me to explore my sexuality, and discover who I really am. Not the person I had become: dry, brittle, empty and faded. Instead I found that I am passionate, tiger-like, assertive, sexy, wanton, lusty, erotic… the list continues… (see posts passim).

I don’t have that yet with CH. But we’re working on it.

And this is one hell of a good start.

More to be posted shortly, people. Be well y’all.


UPDATE: Moderation currently seems to be completely fucked. It has disappeared as an option from Blogger homepage, and from my template settings. I’m still getting information about comments (thanks Rhoda!) but when i try and publish them, i don’t get nowhere. Grrr. So, it’s temporarily back to word verification (gah!) until Blogger gets pulls its finger out of its ass and fixes the fuckin’ thing. Sorry.