Thank Goddess, but it was beautiful this weekend, Saturday and Sunday both. Warm, not too warm. Sunny, not too sunny. A breath of wind without a hint of nuisance.
All that said, I slept in Saturday til about 11, the cat snuggled up under my arm and waking up naturally, instead of by the clock. And my first order of business? CostCo, of course. The Hundred Dollar Store. It's damn hard to keep it under a hundred bucks when you go for groceries and tissue and stuff, but the first thing into the cart is an $89 scanner. Argh. Even worse than dropping the money is the project of clearing off desk space for it.
[ rant ]
Ya ever look around at the bloody fools driving on the road, and wonder how we created the Space Shuttle, zip lock baggies & downloadable MP3s? I mean, kids without seat belts, dogs standing up in the laps of the drivers, cell phone in one hand and latte in the other, slowing to 25mph on the Interstate because there's a cop around - and all of them are in my way! People in training for the Darwin award but not ambitious enough to truly get in the competition.
We need faster wolves. It's time to thin the herd.
[ /rant ]
A pleasant time was had at the Wet Spot Saturday night. A couple of lesbian friends of mine and I had negotiated a nice scene. Elizabeth is a scruptious young high femme, and Viand, her partner, is a mature woman who makes wearing workman's uniforms a grace. The deal we'd been throwing around for a while was Elizabeth & I co-topping on piercing Viand.
We all got to the Spot pretty early, 9ish or so, and before too long we were underway. Elizabeth on one side of the OB/GYN table in the bloodsports room and I on the other, with a full table of implements beside us to pick out. the needles we used ranged from 16ga to 30ga, from 1/2" long to 1", 1.5", 2", and 3.5" long. She was a great bottom to pierce, as she just about ejected from her cockpit every time a needle touched her skin, and we used a copious number of them. Elizabeth and I would alternate as much as possible, she placing needles in the right breast and I in the left. Our patterns were balanced, near symetrical, but not identical. Mandala patterns building endorphin buttons, some needles straight in, a nicely balanced design over the sternum, needles under the breast with the hubs resting on the chest wall with the pointy bits aimed straight up to the sky, whatever we could think of. The three and a half inchers went in at one side of the nipples and tunnelled behind them, to emerge on the other side. We slowed down on our momentum after a while, and so we varied our play a little, and Elizabeth sutured Viand's breasts together, turning her generous cleavage into a bud vase. By this time Viand was pretty gaga, even giggling when one of the 18ga 1" needles that went straight in hit a gusher, bubbling up crimson for a good while. Before she went too far, we turned the corner and began to remove the needles. Removing them, of course, in a manner to cause the maximum sensation and blood flow. Many of them came out most painfully, and one helluva lot of blood was spilled. Viand kept repeating "I've never bled this much; I've never bled this much!" Sutures are a strange and bizarre feeling, especially the feel of the pulling of the thread through a hole in the skin. Putting them in has the added pangs of the needle bites. Removal is just the strange feel of the thread, pulling through the tissue, but mixed with the other pinpricks, the scarlet trickle dripping down, the spray of alcohol spritzers and the slap of gloved hands fingerpainting in the blood - it is pretty overwhelming. She was, as I said, severely gaga after the needles went in, and when Elizabeth and I were done - two hours after we started - it was an exponential leap of that gaga.
Now, Viand is a thoughtful person, and had emailed me a week or so ago asking what they could do to balance things. She said, of course, that sex was not an option since they were in a monosexual girls only relationship, but mentioned massage and a few other things as possibility. I jumped on the massage idea, as my beaten down and broken down old body has so many adhesions and knots and stuff that any manual attention paid to my back is welcome. I had no idea. These two women laid me out on a large massage table and commenced to work on me. It was painful, it was wonderful, and they worked so well in coordination that it was as if scripted. I had no idea how powerful the energy work was until an hour or so later, when I attempted to sit up and accept a glass of water. I faceplanted back into the pillow and it took a good bit for me to recover from the pure pablum they had turned me into.
Such a good good evening. I just kept telling myself what a lucky boy I was.
Ain't it kinda sad when you walk into a party and you feel yourself biting your tongue to keep from saying, "...sorry I'm late... had to time my arrival for after my diuretic wore off...".TMI END
I was invited to a party this afternoon hosted by the nice folks from Sufferware. They were celebrating the fact that their house is 100 years old this summer. There were a small number of folks I knew there, but many more who were strangers. I threw meat I'd brought on the grill and spent a lot of time just chatting with folks. A lot of it - believe it or not, those of you who know me well - was not on kinky things, but on the sorts of topics that are more universal. Why anti-fat attitudes are one of the few 'acceptible prejudices'; cinema trivia; utilikilts of course. It was very pleasant again to get out and mix with people who aren't all the same as me. The simple truth, you see, is that although I'm in a small sexual minority, and by and large society relegates us to our own little piece of the ghetto, all too often we build walls within that chunk of ghetto. It's nice to break down those walls periodically.