Update . . . in Bullets (and Thrown Beer Cans)

a brief update. . .

• I had an open, full beer can thrown at me (my car) at 7am on a highway in downtown Wichita by a man in a 350 Ford with American flags flying and Vietname war emblems on his rear window. . . apparently, it's NOT appropriate or polite to use a turn signal anymore. Okay, I won't.
• Baby Carrot is going to start dance lessons (tap and ballet--just like MOMMY did!) in early October. She was so excited about school "Tap and Tumble Time" that I signed her up right away!
• ExHubby "de-friended" me on Facebook.
• I am going to be accepted to the School of Social Work (at my university) and into the Big Brothers Big Sisters program here shortly.
• Shocker and I celebrated 6 months (well, our anniversary came and went-- we'll celebrate this weekend) and moved Carrot's bedroom furniture into his house. . .
• I have a craving for skittles.
• I have a huge deadline for work (due yesterday) and a 5-page paper for school (due tonight) . . . which should I complete???

Ahhh, I'm tired and lethargic today. . .

I need a glass of wine and a hug. Any takers?! Ah, nevermind. . . I'd better offer to Shocker first! :-)

Forgive Me, Father, For I Have Sinned. . .

Well *I* haven't. Per se. . .

I slept with a straight woman. It happens right?! I mean, I'm bi (leaning more toward the male side on 99% of days--- don't tell my boyfriend that; he might get pissed that it's not 100% although I'd remind him that some days he "acts like a girl" so I really, technically lean HIS WAY all the time . . . this whole train of thought is silly; I'm done) ---but at ONE point I was only thinking about men. It was a long time ago, but it still exists. At one point I called myself . . . gasp . . . straight.

Well, HOMEGIRL (let's call her . . . Cougar. [PS. She's 48]) and I went out for drinks. We hugged the minute she walked into the door, drank our drinks and left. All in less than 25 minutes.
We got to her house, poured more drinks . . . and . . .

Wait, did I mention that Cougar has never been with a woman?!
Well, she HADN'T.

I DO like to break 'em in . . . and that's a male AND female reference! I'm feeling predatory today; that Shocker better look out (I'm 'sleeping over' tonight!)

Anyway, she got me a drink, we barely flirted and then I showed her my tattoo (ANNND my matching bra and panty set; she shoots --she scores!) . . . and the woman got downright AGGRESSIVE. She pulled my skirt all the way down, touched my tattoo and then slid her hand around the front of me. 3 minutes later, I was naked. And 3 minutes after that, we were upstairs --- with sex toys, alcohol, and the lights on.

She was loud, very vocal about what she wanted done to her and what she wanted to do to me, very bossy . . . and about an hour later, I was walking down the stairs naked. We were both fully satisfied.
She leaned against her wall with her arms folded, watched me get dressed, and made me say that I would be back soon to do it again.

I got pulled over (a bit tipsy) on the way home with expired tags and an out of state driver's license (and I've lived here for over a year) . . . NO TICKET. That's another story though . . . I'll call it: "Handcuff Me Softly."


Cue: sweet music as the sun rises, then the *ding* of a text message.
She feels she crossed a moral boundary that she didn't know she had; she feels the need to confess; she says she isn't judging ME (and still loves the fantasy OF me), but feels like what SHE DID was wrong; she had the best orgasm of her life, etc. And she wants to know if we can still be friends-- and share sex stories over drinks.

Of course we can, sweet little straight girl . . . but I'm only going to share the sex-capades of Shocker and I. The girl on girl stuff . . . I'll be keeping for myself! :-)

"Pink Buzzy Thing"

On Sunday, I made Carrot lay down in my bed. . .
"You don't have to take a nap," I told her, "but you DO have to REST!"

She smiled (which I fully understood meant that I was going to have my hands full all afternoon) and agreed.
I went to get ready, washed my hair, etc.
I kept checking on her, but she was going exactly what she was supposed to be doing: laying in bed, quietly. She was singing to herself, but hadn't moved even an inch.

I went back to the bathroom.


I HEARD the buzzing before I even turned around. . . and my heart sunk.

"Mommy," she started (both hands clasped around my buzzing pink vibrator), "I don't like this pink buzzy thing on my back OR on my stomach; it tickles too much."

"Carrot! Don't play with that!"

"Why? It's just for Mommies?"



OMG. . . someone needs to find a better hiding spot.