So sorry to hear about your uncle, Nora. All the best punctuation to you.
Spike's Bitches 38: Well, This Is Just...Neat.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Aimée, Hec says:
Those bangs are very flattering and forgiving on most faces. They're long and can be brushed or parted aside as needed. The only issue is that they might grow out too quickly and she'd be tempted to trim them herself and as we know from past such experiments, that is the path to Hell Bangs.
{{{Nora}}} - I'm very sorry to hear another tragedy playing out for your family.
The jazz renditions of classic Christmas songs by the Vince Guaraldi Trio from the Charlie Brown special always make me smile.Ditto Daniel. Love that soundtrack. Always high on the list for xmas play.
Nora, words can not do justice. Lots of comfort~ma for you and your family.
Last night I dreamt about a new kink. At least I think it was new. Now I'm scared to look it up and find out it's real though part of me would be surprised to find out it wasn't.Um, so? What was it?
Ditto Daniel. Love that soundtrack. Always high on the list for xmas play.Me too!!
Um, so? What was it?
It's funny, inside the dream the details were very specific. Now that I haven't thought about it for a while it's a lot fuzzier. The practice was called vending. Coins were involved.
Last night I dreamt about a new kink. At least I think it was new.
The Boy and I had the following conversation last night (we weren't doing anything prurient at the time):
Me: My feet are cold; maybe, since I just took off my boots, my socks are slightly sweaty and therefore damp.
The Boy: Uh-huh.
Me: I'll take off my socks! Because if they're damp, they would be getting cold in the ambient temperature.
The Boy: Uh-huh.
Me:
t takes off socks, checks to see if they're damp
Me:
t sniffs own socks, repeatedly
Me: Surely there's someone out there whose fetish is smelling his or her OWN socks!
The Boy: ....
Me: Well, there MUST be!
The Boy: Is it YOU?!?
(No, it isn't.)
Is it YOU?!?
I swear I have never looked upon a coin with lust in my heart
I'm suddenly flashing on Kevin Kline in A FISH CALLED WANDA smelling his own armpits.
The practice was called vending. Coins were involved.
this seems very realistic.