Zoe ,'The Train Job'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
No one thinks I'm abused either, Cass. Unless they're hitting on me, and offering to defend me against my next attacker.
Which prompted no thought more than "If he gave me this black eye, just imagine what he'd do to you..."
Maybe most of the onlookers can sense that response brewing.
Still, it does bother me. Because I don't think knowing how to defend yourself ensures you won't be abused.
Yay! Burrell likes my Booby!
....ka-skip to the end.
(but I did see that link, ita. Thanks.)
We're back. We managed to go sledding without hurting Emmett. He did make me measure his bruise from the tree-root incident (3 inches long, 1 inch wide. I didn't tell him ita would be unimpressed with that size, as I didn't want him to think of her as a bruise size queen.)
So Tep's got a fuckbuddy, Spidra lost her job, Emeline's both cute and quite bemused looking.
What else did I miss? I'm 600 back in Natter, but I figure it's probably all GA whitefont.
Somebody should name their band that: GA Whitefont.
Somebody should name their band that: GA Whitefont.
Or T-shirts: "Got Whitefont?"
Hey folks. I'm in SF now. I'm actuallly staying at the hotel where we're having the F2F.
So you should have time to switch rooms if its a tiny little closet!
Well, the internet works. So that's good.
Took about 20 minutes to drive here from the Oakland airport.
The thing with going to bed super early? You wake up. And instead of it being 3 or 4 and obviously time to be asleep so you lie in bed awake for a while until hopefully going back to sleep? Well, I'm posting...
I'm afraid to say, my daughter would probably say the same thing about me, for I am your mother, Teppy. She despairs of me.This possibly describes mine as well. But I adore her far more than I despair of her.
There is a place in LA that has a bacon, peanut butter and swiss burger called the menage a trois.
I'm sorry, but peanut butter on a hamburger just sounds like ten kinds of wrong.I'd actually ordered it to be what I thought to be saucy (I was barely 18, what did I know?) but it was good. The peanut butter was served in a little container on the side, or maybe I had asked for it that way, like ranch or something and as I dabbed bits on it on the burger? Teh yum. And thus I converted from ordering something to seem "daring" to just having a damn good burger. Which is not to convert others.
Still, it does bother me. Because I don't think knowing how to defend yourself ensures you won't be abused.I don't think women, or men, that are abused are all unable to physically defend themselves. Which means that even strong people can be abused. So it would be nice if someone asked the, "You okay?" in a real way. Unless people like my doctor are looking for other signs than just the fearsome bruises and we just don't show one of those. It's certainly not shame cause sometimes I am loathe to admit how I managed to mangle myself so well.
In what is actually other news, the last round with the creepy stalker woman made me realize that some self-defense training is something I want to try. I just have to get over my fear that I am so badly coordinated that I will fail and actually try. Because even my fears realize that I can learn the self-defensey part. I am just not sure how well I would do if I then wanted to get into actually learning it as an art. A smarter person would just go to a class and find out.
A smarter person would also be asleep though. It is pretty well established that I am not that smarter person.
A smarter person would also be asleep though.
Just because its five o'clock in the morning? P'shaw.
My great "take a five day weekend and clean the fuck out of the house" plan worked -- I was just off by about half a day. Which I am doing now. OK, half a night. Or a whole night -- which is like half a day. No, I'm not getting punchy. I AM glad that Cabil is coming or I'd have given up and gone to bed. And then the house wouldn't be done. And that would be sad. So in another couple of hours I'm going to take a nice Lushy shower and go to work and make this a true blue all-nighter because that's just the gal I am (and its silly to get two hours sleep anyway and everybody knows that).
I'm watching this thing on Reconstruction. This one guy, Whatever Morston III is entirely too smug and proud of his ancestors' various crimes.