May 27th

Oh, just another typically mixed weekend around Casa Throckmorton.

After diddlyfarting around Saturday morning, doing some website reviews, jerking off, and mouse-potatoing my way through the day, Kevin called and I ran him around on some errands for the afternoon. While hitting the highlights of Ballard for some marine battery terminals - for a Toyota, but that's Kevin's suspenders-and-a-belt way - I got him to stop in Archie McPhee's for a few minutes. What a treasure trove! I managed to hold myself down to a couple of stainless steel emesis basins and a double handful of sexy postcards to send to my dad. Kevin grumbled and thought I was silly, of course, but he spent as much time perusing the shelves as I did.

Saturday evening I'd been asked to help out with teaching a bit of play piercing to a few folks. The deal was that there was a class in the afternoon on half a dozen topics - bondage, electical play, fire play, and so forth - and in the evening the students could come in and there was one of us specializing in each topic to give them more 1:1 coaching. I only got two students from the eight originally in the class so I was able to give them each a good half hour or so. The coordinator for the event was nice enough to loan me her girlfriend as a crash test dummy, because none of the students brought their own stunt bottom. I got to poke her a whole bunch of times, spill blood, got her higher than a kite with essentially two similar sessions of piercings. I felt honored by the trust shown, to allow me to spill blood inside of a dyke relationship. The real pay off for me wasn't the fun I had, or the student's gratitude, and wasn't even the glazed expression on the bottom's face... it was the totally stunned and ravenous expression on her top's face when she stood there and watched me rip the blood out of her girlfriend's breasts. Gad - that girl so wanted to push the student out of the way and lap and suck at that scarlet ribbon coursing down her girlfriend's tits. Works for me.


...all of which led to me hitting the sack after 230am. That's pretty common for a Saturday night, but being back up and over to the east side by 8am to pick up Thea, Catsy's primary, to drive 2 hours north to Bellingham wasn't pleasant. Thea and I drove up to geek Dad's computer in his summer apartment enough to work. It was a nice and all too quick visit, and Thea - veteran of many years working a help desk - and I were able to get him set up, ICQ installed, and be back on the road by noonish to get her to work on time. She works at a large bookstore, so when I dropped her at work, I came in, found a new book by a favorite author, and lost the next 2 1/2 hours to a nap in one of their easy chairs. Catching up from sleep deprivation becomes much more of an imperative the older you get, ya know?

On home Sunday evening I lit up the Weber Grill and did up some mustard/honey brats and an ear of corn, and finished off my DVD rentals of the weekend - The Cream Fairwell Concert from 1968 at Prince Albert Hall. Gads - Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker. One of the peak musical experiences of my generation. The other DVD - from virtually the same time but lightyears in another direction - Peckinpah's director's cut of The Wild Bunch. Ernest Borgnine, William Holden, Strother Martin, Warren Oates, Edmond O'Brien, Robert Ryan. Breathtaking, 12,000 squibs fired in the final scene, and seminal work from which John Woo has ascended even further.


And now, joy of joys, to sleep in on Memorial Day Monday, until I wake up organically. May take all day, but that's fine. It's a good life.


  • The Usuals ==

  • Latest Book: Blood Money, a Jane Whitefield novel by Thomas Perry
  • Next Book: Dead Hand, by Harold Coyle
  • Last Tshirt Worn: I Won't Tell You How To Love God - You Don't Tell Me How To Love Myself

  • Current Entry - Previous - Next - Write the slut