The Domme. Maybe?

Struggling to find a subject matter that would entice more viewers. Struggling to identify anything that would pique my own interest right now, let alone some one else.

My research has shown me that there are plenty of blogs about D/s, which is something new I am absolutely obsessed with...more in theory and less in practice. And being wildly inexperienced...meaning, not experienced whatsoever in any explicit way, I really have no right to write about it here. Besides saying, it's a compelling lifestyle. And that I don't know what I am. Interesting right?  To package all the things you are into a one or the other. I find it fascinating for a number of reasons...one of which is I have always been a proponent of recognizing and embracing our dynamism. We are like moving water, constantly changing, sometimes murky, sometimes pregnant with various forms of other life, sometimes crystal clear, sometimes churning, and sometimes sinking forever in the muddy shores. And that's a good thing. So, calling yourself a D or an s, and exploring that is NOT a bad thing, but it makes me confused. And I guess that's ok. I guess that's actually a really good thing. Confusion is flux. Motion. It's churning thoughts and rejecting the notion that things are what they are and taking them at face value.

But I digress. Or do I? So, am I "D" or am I "s?" Do we all fall into a category whether we act on the feelings or urges or needs or not? It's about perspective. And perspective is impossible to capture. So I say fuck it, I'm gonna drink some wine.

There's also a rat that lives in our apartment that has been ravaging all of our food. One room mate caught it in the act which prompted rat poison which has prompted me to question my own humanity. I immediately held my index finger to the side of nose and screamed not it. Not it in poisoning it and REALLY NOT IT in looking for and removing its decaying stinky carcass. But things would change if it touched one of my cute little chickens.

I'm exhausted. I have to write a media advisory (DON'T EVEN PRETEND YOU ARE NOT ENVIOUS MY LIFE) and eventually finish this beer and pass out on my couch in the most classy way possible.

Michael Buble sucks and keeps popping up on one of my pandora stations which leaves me outraged and angry that Canada is so close and that they allow so many douchebags to exist...and make a career around being a douchenozzle.

Blah.

Chicken Shit and Cougar Country

To indulge my white liberalism further, I bought chickens, not fior eating, but for the production of eggs. My dream...to walk into my backyard nude and gather eggs...cook said eggs in the buff, eat said eggs in the buff...then address my room mates who may or not at that time be balking at me in the kitchen.

It's cliche, but they grow up so fast. 3 weeks ago, they fit in the palm of my hand (chickens, not the roommates). Yesterday, they flew out of their box, shit all over the floor, then flew back in their box. For such dumb creatures, they sure are brilliant. Following the crapping catastrophe, after cleaning it up, I closed the door to relax on the couch to philosophize about life, love, and cougardom. I was aroused from my brain thoughts by their frantic chirping and finally after minutes of wishing it away, went to check on them. Somehow their heat lamp had gone out and the little poop machines were reacting to the darkness....my scientific assessment of the situation...they are afraid of the dark. I have a lot in common with chickens.

My online dating experiment has yielded many stories, a few worth mentioning. Earlier today, a gentleman asked me if he could "brutalize me." Out of morbid curiosity, I asked what that meant to which he responded (wait, I need to check and make sure this is accurate....) ok...he responded with "Slap you, spit on you, and fuck you." Hot. I responded, I cannot wait for you to meet my parents...and he said "you're lucky I don't pee on you." Sure am buddy...thanks.

There are more stories like that, but the one I want to focus on right now is the evolution of my cougar core. I met (ok, have been messaging) an adorable 23 year old. ADORABLE. Problem is, he's 23. I just turned 30. The question I am toying with is, am I cougar? When does a woman become a cougar? How does one know if she is a Cougar? Who determines Cougardom? Are there support groups for cougars? I'm most likely getting ahead of myself right now. Who knows if this delicious little morsel will want to touch my sagging lady parts, but it's something that's been occupying my mind for the past two days. It's more complicated than just aging (though that in and of itself is a sordid subject and I still haven't come to terms with my oldness), it's that he invigorated this part of me that's been dormant....NO, not like my sex drive or anything dirty like that...ewww...It's the me in my 20's...The girl that picked up and left when things got tired, or boring, or I wanted to see Crazy Horse's monument...just cause. I cannot really say anything here that hasn't been said before about aging, and the particular changes that occur (menopause and under arm flabbiness), but in experiencing it, I sure as hell feel like I have to talk about. There's an tradeoff, wisdom for ignorance/bliss, "stability" for abandonment and selfishness, and belly fat for....well ...not belly fat. Nonetheless it's made me nostalgic. Nostalgic for things that I can absolutely have and experience again...as long as I'm not willing to settle. 

I suppose there's that whole mess of cougarishness and confusion....and then there's the practical, "are you fucking kidding me?? you didn't grow up watching ALF?" But that could be a cultural divide too, not just a generational. So, here I go, justifying my way into dating younger men..much younger men. I anticipate that after having to change his diaper and get him home before 9pm, this will become a little tooooo awwwwkward, and I'll have to call it quits.

Then I'll have way more time to obsess over the chickens and write wildly boring blogs about them. So, there's that...I have that going for me.

To all ma PEEPS!

Hey Egypt! Thanks for the Pyramids and stuff

At a time when EVERYONE is writing, blogging, following, taping, and harboring desires to emulate Egypt....I would like to write about something else. But I can't.  What Egyptian citizens did over the course of the past 3 weeks, has been earth shattering. I cannot go through the laundry list of implications, globally, for the Arab world, and of course America's relationship to Arab world, Israel, Palestine. I cannot go through this, mostly because I lack the brain cells, and let's be honest, there are far more articulate, brilliant,  analytical and more trusted journalists and academics writing about this daily.

I suppose there's not a lot of humor that can be pulled out of the situation in Egypt. A repressive dictatorship has never been "funny," and not even I, someone who has made it their life goal to be wildly inappropriate and make people uncomfortable, cannot create any framework for the uprisings in Egypt...and yes you too Tunisia, that would be gigglable.  So I guess this post as most of these have been, is merely an opportunity to just write something because it's been so long. And to at least be able to tell people, I wrote about Egypt. 

In all actuality, I have a deep amount of admiration for the organic flow of the Tunisian, then Egyptian uprisings. I celebrated my 30th birthday in Acapulco a few weeks ago..I was actually in Mexico when all of this "started."  This is just to say  I WAS IN MEXICO WHILE EVERYONE ELSE HAD TO BE HERE IN BUFFALO..and I'm 30 and this is the first time I've seen a movement like this (not to say it hasn't happened, only that maybe this is the first time I've given a shit) The shared collective consciousness that launched them into action is something we could learn a lot from. The ability to say enough is enough...not just from the comfort of their living rooms, their arm chairs, their cafes or places of employment. I am not saying we live in a dictatorship, but I am saying that the banking industry rules our worlds and I am pretty sure that they are not necessarily doing to ensure that we collectively benefit.

Point is, I was in Mexico, you were not, we have an obligation to speak truth to power in oppressive situations, and I think that we can learn a few things from the individuals and communities in Egypt that finally said Ya Basta! It's an inspiration to watch people essentially defy gravity and in a few short weeks, shift the course of her/history.

So, Egypt thanks for your uprisings and thanks for those pyramids...I havent seen them yet in real life, but I saw the Mummy with Brendan Fraser.